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“A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jewelled vision of a life started anew.”
— Aberjhani
[“Do you know what the difference is between a myth and a legend?”“Hmm…” The boat sways, rocking up and down like the powerful gallop of a horse. The shine off the water is painfully bright, forcing him to squint to see past the end of his nose. Jiang Cheng shrugs. “No. Don’t know, don’t care. They’re all the same. Nothing more than fairytales, the lot of them.”A soft sigh. “That’s a rather dull way of looking at things.” He lets out a bark of laughter and is answered with a small chuckle.“Myths are pure fantasy,” the other says finally, his voice lilting like a song. “Whereas legends have at least some basis in reality.”Jiang Cheng hums disinterestedly but manages not to roll his eyes by sheer chance. Salt spray clings to everything, drying in white streaks on their skin and rubbing their skin raw. It is obvious that they are not welcome here. The sky, wind, and sea are all against them remaining afloat.“I believe that what we are attempting to do will blur the line between both.”What does that even mean?He scoffs. “It’s not like it was my idea.” Jiang Cheng's mind flicks briefly to the sharp grin of an annoying trickster who is probably somewhere far in the other direction, busy dealing with his own part of their quest. He shrugs again. “Still, it’s worth a try.”“We are challenging the gods by doing this,” the other warns, twisting the rudder against a sudden jolting wave.Jiang Cheng watches the rudder snap off with a loud crack, and they both stare at the broken piece for a moment. Then it is promptly tossed into the sea. As if in offence to this, the waves slam upwards and for a moment Jiang Cheng is sure they're about to join the rudder. He smacks his hand on the deck in time with their hard landing, slamming his fist down and glaring at the sea. “So be it then,” he grits out through his teeth.His companion rises smoothly, somehow unbending against the buffeting winds and violent lurching of the boat. He stands with his back to the sun, an arm outstretched towards him. “Are you sure?” he asks, the slightest tremor in his voice.Jiang Cheng has learnt the danger in second-guessing things too much these past months. He grabs the hand offered to him without hesitation. Quickly he is pulled up up up onto his feet and then off them. He is lifted up above the water, and as the boat falls beneath them, two lashing waves snap up like the jaws of a giant sea monster. It's gone in the blink of an eye.“Hold onto me.”He does.Then he laughs, ignoring the burst of fear that curls in his belly at the sight of those unnatural black waves rising to meet them, clawing at their feet and churning dark with sea-foam. “This is impossible,” he says. “It can’t be real,” he laughs breathlessly, shaking his head before pressing it against the other’s neck. “It can’t be.”The arms around him tighten as they float up higher, up towards the clouds. A pair of warm lips brush against his ear. “Attempt the impossible, A-Cheng.”] It begins on a night like any other. Jiang Cheng kicks the door open to vent the tiniest bit of his frustration, though he is careful not to use too much force to break it. They’ve had to replace too many doors in the past month alone, and he is fed up of having to figure out which way the door panel slides open when they put it in the wrong way around. Stomping over to find that the tea left for him has gone cold, he pauses for a moment but then decides to chug it anyway.What a day. What a fucking day. It wasn’t that bad actually. The day, that is. The tea is fucking nasty. No, the day was nothing special. No drama. Nothing taxing. The usual sect business (though everything was wrapped up far later than what most other sect leaders would allow), the humdrum run-of-the-mill issues to deal with. And yet.
He feels like shit.
Honestly, he can’t say why he does. Sometimes these days come and there is an itch that gets trapped under his skin. A tightness that builds in his chest. 'The burdens of being a leader', he vaguely recalls his father droning to him once. No fucking kidding.He remembers more clearly the sudden brunt of responsibility thrust upon his young shoulders, the weight of it almost causing his legs to buckle at the time, because back then he’d been sorely underprepared for it. He knows the burdens. He's lived with them for a good portion of his life now.Years and years later, and he still had days where he wonders if things will ever get easier. Some things are easier nowadays. With experience, he at least has a better idea what the heck he is supposed to be doing (most of the time). Being widely respected and even more widely feared also helps to get things done. Really, compared to the whole nightmarish disaster they’d had to sort out (by which, he meant all the shit that had happened with that demon's ballsack, also known as Jin Guangyao), the load on his shoulders is practically nothing. But some days are just difficult for no good reason. He will wake up with a stone in his belly, and it will grow heavier as the day goes on. His mood will swing wildly between being dangerously quiet to raging around like a wounded bull. Zidian will spit sparks and hiss whenever someone gets too close. Jiang Cheng cannot understand it himself. Why his skin will feel too tight, why his hair-trigger temper will become incredibly even more volatile, why the suffocating normalcy of everyone around him will grind his teeth on these accursed days. The day will drag on, mindless to his suffering, and the tension in him will rise to its peak and then stay there. He will push on through sheer determination, ignoring the ache in his jaw and pounding headache building between his eyes. When he is finally released from his duties, he’ll drag himself to his room, kick the door shut, and try to lose some of that built up restlessness by drowning his sorrows in tea. Or wine, if the day calls for it.Jiang Cheng drops down at his desk with an explosive sigh, propping his elbows up so he can dig his thumbs into his temples. He sucks at the bitter aftertaste left on his tongue and counts up to ten slowly, then lets out a long exhale.When he finally cracks open his eyes, he swears very loudly.There is a letter.No. No, this is after-hours. Absolutely not.It’s a nice-looking letter though. Thick, creamy paper rolled without a crease. Official-looking. Important. Business. He prods it till the scroll rolls onto its back. Ah, wrapped in a blue ribbon. Lan Sect business then. “Fuck.”The scroll rolls back on its belly. Strapped to its back is a note wedged under the ribbon. Jiang Cheng huffs, and the paper moves with his breath. It almost looks like it’s waving at him.He rips it free and quickly scans the sheet.“Of fucking course,” he grunts, whilst scanning the familiar cramped, spiky lines that barely form legible script.
Jiang Cheng! You’d better reply quickly or I’ll come to get you myself!
“Better not,” he mutters to himself. “Stay out of my Pier, you squirrelly bastard.”
I mean it! No leaving this to collect dust. I need your answer by the end of the week latest!
“Who do you think you are—wait a second, answer…?”Answer to what?He has to lean back for a few seconds just to accommodate his mind being flooded by a million possibilities as to what he is being asked to answer for.Wei Wuxian's mischief has always been his biggest headache (well, at least until Jin Ling happened), and even after all these years, he remains one of the biggest reasons for Jiang Cheng’s perpetually elevated blood pressure. Even if he has now become Lan Wangji’s responsibility, there is no such thing as a shortage of shenanigans to deal with when it comes to managing Wei Wuxian.Don’t make that face. Be happy for me! The impossible has been achieved !“The impossible...?”Again, Jiang Cheng stares and contemplates. His entire being slowly fills with dread. It's like looking at a pile of screaming babies and being asked which one belongs to you. He’d like to say none of them and walk away, but in this instance, the babies are autonomous and relentless in wanting his attention.In this instance, the screaming babies are actually Wei Wuxian’s shenanigans, and there is never any escape from Wei Wuxian’s shenanigans. His excuse for stretching the metaphor for as long as he can is to delay having to face how bad this is going to be. His sanity can only handle so much added stress after such a tedious day, and when Wei Wuxian says the impossible, there is literally no way of quantifying that amount of damage.
Honestly, it didn’t even go as bad as I’d been expecting. Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you—WWX
With much trepidation and reluctance (and, to his chagrin, burning curiosity), he carefully peels open the scroll. Once again he rushes himself through reading it, but slowly his clenched fingers loosen midway through the text. By the end of it, he is half-smiling, half-considering cracking open a fresh jar of wine because by the gods. The fucker did it.Somehow (and with Jiang Cheng’s knowledge of Wei Wuxian and what he’s capable of, he can imagine how in rather alarming detail)—the retired Yiling Patriarch, scourge of the earth, self-proclaimed Grandmaster of demonic cultivation—has gotten Lan Qiren’s blessing to marry his nephew. Just picturing what may have led to that outcome is enough to give Jiang Cheng the beginnings of another conniption, and therefore he does not follow that trail any further.Poor Lan Qiren, is all he can think. The man must love his nephew very much. He’ll probably be spitting blood till the end of time, poor guy.This isn’t nearly as bad news as what he’d been expecting after reading that utterly ridiculous note. Trust Wei Wuxian to build him up like that for nothing. Reading over the letter again, he tries not to flinch at the warm softness that grows inside him.The feeling that comes to him whilst reading On behalf of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, Gusu Lan Sect invites you is somewhere between relieved and bitter. Like when spring comes and you are glad for it but also reluctant to leave the comfort of your hibernation. This is another step into a brand new future that he... he isn’t yet entirely sure he's ready for.But it feels right. It does. He cannot deny that this is good news, and even his own conflicted heart is glad to hear it. This letter, that note—beyond a wedding invitation and rather mediocre prank, they are also one in a large number of olive branches he and his estranged brother have been exchanging over the past months in an attempt to rebuild a new relationship. If you can call chucking each other random letters and sharing a few strained conversations 'rebuilding' much of anything.Progress is slow-going, but he has to say: it isn’t without heart.Ever since the truth of Jiang Cheng’s golden core was revealed to him and the world as he’d known it for thirteen long, miserable years was shattered… it is as though the wind that had been fanning the fiery rage in his heart died too. His pride wouldn’t allow him to go on the rest of his life without acknowledging the truth and hating the world for all the wrong reasons.It goes against everything he's been taught. Also, he simply doesn’t have any desire to keep holding onto those ill feelings, now that he knew the whole breadth of the story, and not only part of it. None of what had happened was simple. None of it can be put neatly into boxes—the grief, the despair, the betrayal, the guilt. They are a mess that was caused by their lives being torn apart. These toxic emotions have formed a pit that Jiang Cheng has finally decided to dig his way out of. The process is excruciating, but in the way that comes with purifying oneself.Coming to terms with what happened is a stab in the heart compared to the slow-acting poison of before. Swallowing the bitter truth whole was what his mother had taught him to do since practically in the womb.There is one thing you must put before family and love, she used to tell him quietly, in those rare times when she was not lashing him with her whip-like tongue, and that is the truth. The truth is that… he’s tired.Of hating everything and everyone, and clinging onto his sorrows for company. Of living with long-dead ghosts and counting every loss he’s suffered like a beggar with coin.He's tired of hating his brother with every fibre of his being. The scars that never form, that never heal because he doesn’t let them. He's carved over them a thousand times, a thousand reminders to never forget. Most of all, he’s tired of this thing he’s told himself to believe: that if he locked his heartache away, he’d be able to forget it and move on. That by doing so he’d never have to face it ever again. What a fool he was to believe that, because—here it is. Here it has always been. Not just in this letter. Not just from Wei Wuxian’s return to life.It’s here—in this house where he lives now, that he rebuilt with his own two hands, in every stone and floorboard covering blackened rock and bloodstained wood. Here—in the rich purple of his robes and the amethyst ring on his finger. Here and here and here.The way Jin Ling laughs, eyes crinkled like his mother. The taste of lotus and pork rib soup, never quite sweet enough. Every time a person throws their head back with a wild peal of laughter. When he sees two kids running after each other, their feet pounding hard enough to shake the ground. His golden core.His golden core. It comes to this, the final blow: that Jiang Cheng has been lied to, time and time again. That Wei Wuxian has been protecting Jiang Cheng all these years. It stings and hurts in the worst way, that he has hated his brother all this time. That the truth was kept from him because Wei Wuxian decided to put him first above all—above the truth.He feels guilty for having never known, despite the fact that their cores were cultivated so similarly that there is no way he could have told them apart. They burn with the same fire. Almost identical. True soul brothers. The Twin Heroes of Yunmeng. He would have never suspected it wasn’t his, had he not been told.(Surprise! That’s how it would go, back then. A toothy grin, a rich belly-laugh at his no-doubt horrified expression. Then the rage would come, and Wei Wuxian’s laugh would rise like a bird taking flight. Jiang Cheng, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles! Stop being such an old man about this! The best part of a prank, Wei Wuxian used to tell him, was always seeing his face afterwards. Without fail. Seeing that flash of temper and revelling in winning the game—nothing was better. Now he suspects it’s Lan Wangji’s face his brother draws most of his entertainment from.Not that his face gives much away in terms of being expressive. Maybe that in itself is where Wei Wuxian finds his fun.)Jiang Cheng bites back a sigh. Those two.He’ll never understand their choice to be together, but frankly, they deserve one another. Crazy fools, the both of them. Picking up the letter again, he rolls it up and tucks the note back where it was before.
Jiang Cheng! You better reply quickly or I’ll come get you myself!
The sigh escapes. A nod to himself.Tomorrow, then. The air he flies through is slick like water, clinging to his clothes and making them stick to him. It's only after a few minutes that Jiang Cheng realises it’s because he’s flying through a fucking cloud, and he scowls fiercely as he descends closer to the mountain slope to escape it. Great. Just great. His uninvited visit will already be met with disapproval, but to receive him like this—soaked through like a drowned rat.He shudders at the thought of Lan Qiren’s face when he steps through the Lan Sect gates. (Disgraceful!)He's pretty sure there are a dozen rules against presenting yourself in such a manner, but what can he do about it now? The cloud came upon him without warning. Admittedly that's because his mind had floated off elsewhere halfway through his journey. His head in the clouds, ironically enough. Jiang Cheng knows that charging into another sect’s territory like this is not the brightest idea he’s ever had. Especially on a sword and at the speeds he is going, he is bound to raise some eyebrows (if not swords) when he lands. But he is running on little to no sleep, and something in his mind is drawn to this swifter than an arrow to its target.There is something about coming here that demands he arrive with urgency, and it isn’t by Wei Wuxian’s words (pathetic threat) that he feels he must move. It's something he cannot pinpoint, less than a thought or a feeling.That itch from before. That strange, curdling sensation in his gut. It hasn’t left him all night, where usually his tea-or-wine-induced slumber would have freed him from it. It remains trapped inside him, urging him to move. It probably wasn’t the best idea to have set out on his sword with all of these things providing far too much distraction.But alas, he has arrived. He lands, and two patrolling disciples immediately appear at his sides. They recoil the moment they recognise him, hastily dropping their eyes. Their hands shake as they clasped their fists in greeting, moving perfectly in unison.“Sect Leader Jiang!” Jiang Cheng blows a stubborn strand of hair off his nose. “I’m here to speak with Wei Wuxian.”They take him without further explanation. Even without invitation, this is the sort of response his name tends to get—allowing him into places without a word. He isn’t bothered by it. Even though the way the disciples keep darting glances at his sorry state strongly suggests that this time, it might be less out of fear than curiosity. What poor judgement these young ones have, to choose to believe that he’s here for something important.He is led to the back of one of the Lans’ many pavilions that are set so they seem to float on the mountains’ mists. The ground is damp with morning dew, but this little patch of green is sheltered from cold breezes and the sun manages to curve around to hit it so the grass looks jewelled and lush.Wei Wuxian is sprawled inelegantly on said grass, his mouth hanging open in sleep and his donkey dozing under a nearby tree. The disciples leave him after hanging around awkwardly for a moment. Clearly, they want to know what he's here for, but one sharp glance has them scurrying for the hills. Then Jiang Cheng turns his attention to the lazy lump on the floor. He slaps his hands on his hips.“Oi.”Jiang Cheng deliberately prods the sleeping man. He doesn’t kick him like he so dearly wants to. Though Wei Wuxian may appear to be alone, he has a permanent white shadow attached to him who will attack if it appears he’s in any danger, and in that shadow’s opinion, 'any danger' even includes being glared at too fiercely. Jiang Cheng isn’t scared of Lan Wangji, but fighting him would ruin the purpose of his visit. To be friendly. To try and repair things between him and his brother.This is his turn for throwing the olive branch back at his brother (back and forth between them like playing catch with a ball) and he'll be damned if he's going to lose the toss.“Oi.” He’s losing patience now. The prod this time becomes more like a push. The idiot rolls over with a loud snore. Jiang Cheng can’t help but snort when Wei Wuxian spits out a mouthful of grass. “Serves you right.”“Ja' Chen’?” Wei Wuxian sputters, scrubbing at his face and grimacing at the taste in his mouth.“I had to stop you from coming to Yunmeng somehow,” he explains, to which Wei Wuxian becomes awake at once, and scrambles up into a sitting position. “What’s with that face?”“You got my letter!” He pauses. “What happened to your robes?”“None of your goddamn business.” It’s not spoken with any venom, and Wei Wuxian’s smile widens at this. “You look even more stupid than usual. Stop that. Stop smiling.”“You’re coming, aren’t you?”Jiang Cheng sighs. Half the time he feels like he breathes through constant sighs.“I’m here, aren’t I?”Wei Wuxian whoops, rolling around and then leaping up onto his feet. Jiang Cheng swerves backwards when he makes a lunge for him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when the idiot merely laughs in delight and tosses a handful of grass away. That grass was meant for his shirt collar. He’s not usually this complacent.Neither of them is as comfortable as they once were with the other, but this is a bright morning filled with promise and Jiang Cheng has come to confirm his attendance for his wedding in person. Apparently, even Wei Wuxian understands it would be a stupid idea to piss him off this early in the day and ruin what could be a pleasant meeting. This careful consideration... it's not ideal, but still. It's both a lot and very little, all at once. As Jiang Cheng said before: slow-going, but not without heart.“So tell me then, how was 'the impossible' achieved?”Wei Wuxian pauses. He widens his eyes and tilts his head, but Jiang Cheng isn’t buying it.“What did you do? How did you convince that poor old man to say yes?” he presses, already raising his hand. It's poised and ready to meet his forehead. The action is so ingrained in him that it brings with it countless memories of past exploits he'd been dragged into. Stealing chickens, flirting with anyone in a skirt, knocking market stalls over when in hot pursuit. What did he have to answer for this time? “Was it bribery? Torture? Was blackmail involved—”“No, no, no, of course not!” But Wei Wuxian is laughing, and Jiang Cheng holds his gaze. Eventually, he slumps in defeat. “He didn’t actually... technically he didn’t say yes.” At Jiang Cheng’s continued staring, he ducks his head. “Lan Zhan went to ask on our behalf and it seems that he was expecting it. He gave up pretty quickly with a signed confirmation.”All in all, Jiang Cheng is disappointed. He came here expecting to be entertained. Wanting to hear about how Wei Wuxian put on a big show, combining his many years of practice in troublemaking to pester their old teacher into submission—not this... this pathetic, borderline acceptable way to have asked permission.It's so... so... boring. He frowns to convey this.Wei Wuxian groans. “I know, but this is important to Lan Zhan! I thought it was best to let him handle it.”“Is it not important to you?”The man puffs out his cheeks. Then his mouth wavers into a smile. “Sort of? I mean. The thing is…”Jiang Cheng feels his eyebrow twitch. “Just spit it out.”“The thing is, we’re... technically we're already married?”Jiang Cheng blinks.Then, after allowing himself to imagine smacking the idiot over the head, he flops down onto the grass. After another moment Wei Wuxian joins him, though he remains perched on his knees, ready to flee at a moment's notice if Jiang Cheng decides to be angry with him. “Why,” he begins slowly, causing Wei Wuxian to tense up, “The fuck, do you need another wedding then? Is it purely to waste my time?”Wei Wuxian deflates with relief. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jiang Cheng.”Rolling his eyes, “So why then?”He shrugs. “Because we eloped? We got married before, just in case Old Man Lan said no. It was just the two of us, and if he weren’t a Lan it wouldn’t bother me, but… Lan Zhan has responsibilities, and a reputation too. If it were to get around that he'd eloped, it would shame him and his family.”Again, Jiang Cheng fixes his brother with a long look. “And you think him being officially married to a man, let alone to you, will help preserve his reputation?”That wipes the smile clean off his face. Immediately Jiang Cheng bites his cheek. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.A shadow forms in the distance. It’s amazing how Lan Wangji seems to sense whenever Wei Wuxian is in distress, even from miles away. Jiang Cheng feels a twinge at how Wei Wuxian eases at the sight of him, his smile returning like the sun from behind a cloud. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters quickly.That smile is redirected to him; it grows and softens, and for a split second, Jiang Cheng is ten years old again, apologising for tactlessly pointing out his new brother’s recently deceased parents during a tantrum. (The dogs were recently given away, and he didn't really hate his new brother, but he did hate that his dogs were gone. Jiang Yanli was the one whose smile gentled at his stuttering, as Wei Wuxian ruffled his hair.)“It just seems stupid. Pointless.”Wei Wuxian hums in agreement. “It does. It is.”Jiang Cheng jerks his chin in Lan Wangji's direction. “Like he’s ever cared about his reputation anyway.”“He hasn’t, but I cannot be the reason he shames his family.”He raises his brow. “You think you’re that important that they’ll cast him out with you?”Wei Wuxian returns the brow. “You think he’ll allow me to be thrown out and not come after me?”He’s got him there. Lan Wangji totally would. He’s not been around the two of them a whole lot, but he’d have to be blind not to see how sickeningly devoted to him Lan Wangji is. The man would obliterate a rock for being in Wei Wuxian’s shoe. That’s how over-the-top protective he is about him. He’s heard enough from the juniors to have learnt all about these ridiculous perceived threats to Wei Wuxian’s person Lan Wangji has taken to his blade.The list includes: a wayward tree branch that obstructed his path (slashed), the ice surface of a frozen lake that tried to topple him (stabbed it), and on one occasion, an equally-as-startled-to-be-stumbled-upon stray dog who made Wei Wuxian cry.(Thankfully, the last was not, in fact, killed in retribution. Merely pushed aside as Lan Wangji took Wei Wuxian in his arms and flew them away for his alleged “safety”.)Ridiculous, the two of them. “Anyway.” Wei Wuxian turns to watch his husband. “Lan Zhan deserves a nice wedding.”He partly agrees with that on the basis that the man has waited thirteen years for this. From what he's been told, during that time he held no expectations that his feelings would be returned, and yet he loved him all the same. Wei Wuxian doesn’t write much about their gushy romance (much to Jiang Cheng’s eternal relief) but has said that Lan Zhan didn’t even try to pursue him romantically when he returned. His only desire had been to stand between him and the rest of the world in a way he was not allowed to before.It was something only they could achieve. A love that only exists in fairytales.Even Jiang Cheng can agree that the man deserves a really nice wedding for remaining so dedicated to Wei Wuxian, of all people, and wanting so little in return.“I suppose he does.”Wei Wuxian brightens again, this time his warm gaze filling Jiang Cheng with sunshine.And also with dread. There is a glint in his eye that he does not care for.“You should feel flattered, you know?” He winks. “You were the first one we sent an invitation to.”The dread disappears, replaced with that instant sunshine again. He has to bite back a hushed ‘really?’ and tone it down to a forced scoff. “Why, for writing practice?”Jiang Cheng watches Lan Wangji’s approach falter, the man hanging back when he spots them together. Lan Wangji knows the brothers are trying to reconcile, but Jiang Cheng doesn't know (or care) what he thinks about it, so he waits to see what he does, only to realise that that is nothing. The man goes completely still. He sure can become like a fucking statue when he wants to be. It’s not only his face then. Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes, disturbed beyond belief. Is he really just going to stand there and watch them?He repeats his question aloud to his brother, who instead of laughing uproariously as he would have done in their youth, tips his to the side like a swooning maiden. “Probably,” he sighs, eyes turning slightly glassy.Jiang Cheng sneers.Disgusting.“What does he think I’m going to do?” Jiang Cheng exclaims, waving his hand around in gesture to Wei Wuxian’s person. The gesture is perhaps intentionally a little too close for comfort. So sue him. He and Lan Wangji have always rubbed each other the wrong way, and sometimes Jiang Cheng wants that friction to resemble rug-burn.Lan Wangji appears beside them in an instant. He eyes Jiang Cheng as though he’s holding a knife to Wei Wuxian’s neck.What an idiot. “Congratulations,” he quips, leaning back on his hands in a similar sprawl to his brother’s.This is so far below official business that Jiang Cheng doesn’t even care to throw up his in a hand-fist salute. The Second Young Master Lan dips his head in polite thanks, his eyes quickly moving over to where Wei Wuxian is beaming at him as if to check that he is still there. Then they stay there for a moment like that, just staring at each other, and he almost gags. How sickening.When he turns back to Jiang Cheng he becomes stone again. “You flew to Gusu.”Jiang Cheng’s brow furrows. From what little actually useful information Wei Wuxian sometimes includes in his letters, he has come to the understanding that to decipher Lan Wangji’s painfully economic use of words, you have to pretty much speak for him. Deduce what he says with things like, you know, context. Meaning. Emotion.Jiang Cheng deduces this statement is meant as some sort of question.“Really?” Wei Wuxian lights up again, eyes darting between them. He grins. “Is that why you look like someone dropped you in a lake?”Ah. Now he gets it. They want to know why he's all wet. “It was a cloud,” he mutters, before straightening his shoulders and tilting his chin up. He wants to mirror this blunt, clipped form of lazy speaking back at Lan Wangji. See how he likes it. “Takes a day to get to Gusu on foot.” Ah, he fucked up. That was too many words.Lan Wangji absorbs this, and amazingly enough, the message seems to have been received. His cold gaze flits over Jiang Cheng’s sorry state with less concern and more consideration. “Emergency?”They are allies, in a sense. His hasty visit might be seen as urgent. He shakes his head and opens his mouth, but then he wonders himself why he felt the need to fly to Gusu. A day really isn’t that long a journey, and this is hardly important business.How can he explain the odd skittering sensations that seem to crawl through his body? There is nothing dangerous about it, but the prickling on his skin and tightness of being wound up like a spring still feels somewhat threatening. He bites his lip. He's got no explanation, and it would just be embarrassing to admit that he's got no good reason for behaving so unreasonably, so he says nothing.“He came to tell us that he'll be attending,” Wei Wuxian chirps, leaning into Jiang Cheng's side. “In person.” Lan Wangji inclines his chin imperceptibly. In Jiang Cheng’s head, this is him bowing to him deeply in ardent and sincere gratitude.“So when exactly should I set aside time for this wedding?” He cuts a sharp glance at Wei Wuxian, stopping him moments before he starts going on about his schedule. Yes, he likes to keep a schedule. No, it’s not because he’s obsessive. He is a Sect Leader, which means that time to him is even more precious. He stands by this statement, even though Wei Wuxian knows he kept a mental schedule long before he became Sect Leader. The couple share a look filled with conversation and then turn to Jiang Cheng with identical blank faces.“You don’t know?” he balks.If it were up to him, say—if he were planning a wedding, he would have the date written down long before the proposal. Even before the engagement had been confirmed. That was how enthusiastic he was about keeping a schedule.Jiang Cheng lets out a long hissing breath and wonders how badly his brother has managed to corrupt the great Hanguang-Jun for him to have adopted the same carefree attitude. It's too nauseating to think about how much they mirror each other, moving together harmoniously and speaking through looks. “We didn’t even know if Teacher was going to say yes!” Wei Wuxian protests. He purses his lips thoughtfully. “But now that we do, I think a summer wedding would be nice…”“Hn.” Lan Wangji fixes on Wei Wuxian with laser-focus, his eyes tracing the man’s fingers which are stroking his chin in exaggerated thought. He turns to Jiang Cheng then, as if to say—here, take this useless approximation of an answer and stick it in your stupid diary. His eyes harden. Make sure it is underlined. Twice. So you do not miss it.Jiang Cheng wants to ask, who the fuck does he think he is? Does he really think he can reserve the whole of summer for their fucking wedding? Does neither of them have an inkling of how busy being Sect Leader’s makes him? The work is never done. He has already set himself back a week by spontaneously deciding to visit this morning—but Jiang Cheng reminds himself that this is his own fault.He came here because he's trying this new thing called 'socialising outside of work' slash 'spending time with his family'. Also, because he wanted to. Because sometimes he should be allowed to do what he wants just because he wants to. Also, because he deserved a break. He needed a break.The bad day got to him more than he'd like to admit, and if he hadn’t come… if he hadn’t left Lotus Pier, he’d probably have terrorised half his clan with the mother of all tantrums. Though, Jiang Cheng knew that if this was really the excuse he was going for—to spare his clan being made victim to his undeserved wrath... he should never return to Lotus Pier again.To spare anyone from his temper, he would have to restrict himself to a place where no one could come to bother him. A place all by himself, without distractions or, more importantly—irritations.Pondering this brings a person to mind.“I’ll wait until you have a more precise date then,” he says, mentally making a note to himself to at least try to lighten his load around the summer, “But don't take too long about it. Maybe you should think of asking Sect Leader Lan for his opinion—”“Why.”Jiang Cheng scowls. He's trying to be nice, and he's hit by this brick wall called Lan Wangji. The temptation to find a place far, far away from irritations is growing by the minute. Each second in Lan Wangji’s presence raises his hackles by an inch. If he thought Wei Wuxian was difficult to stand being around, he should have expected the person he’d choose to marry would be infinitely worse.“Why? Because he’s the one arranging it for you, isn’t he?” It's tradition that most important marriages will be overseen by the clan leader themselves, and with this being the clan leader’s brother’s wedding... Jiang Cheng can’t see where his assumption is lacking in logic. “He is going to be there, isn’t he?”His choice of wording could have been better, but since Lan Xichen announced he would be going into seclusion though, it isn’t his fault if there’s no good way to speak about it without stepping on someone's foot.Everyone who knows about it has their piece to say on why things happened, who is to blame for what, and why Lan Xichen has secluded himself. There are all sorts of rumours flying around, but Jiang Cheng is one of the people who knows what actually happened, and that though the secrecy is needed it's also causing those rumours to be blown hugely out of proportion. He's heard though, that Lan Xichen hardly leaves his room, and hasn't left the Cloud Recesses at all.He's heard from Wei Wuxian that whilst the official clan duties are still being carried out by him (a.k.a. the paperwork), the day-to-day running of matters that require person-to-person interaction has gone to Lan Wangji by proxy.All of this means that it’s not guaranteed that he'll make an appearance at social functions these days, but Jiang Cheng would have thought he would put in the effort for his precious baby brother's wedding. With all the uncertainty about everything though, there's no way of avoiding crushed toes. He has to ask to know.(Still, pointing a finger at the empty space where their clan leader should be, is in bad form, and Jiang Cheng knows this, but sometimes there is no other way to point out a problem than to, well... point it out.)“How does that concern you?” Lan Wangji’s voice is like hoarfrost, delicate enough to retain minimum politeness, but ice cold. Jiang Cheng bristles. There’s no reason to treat him like a criminal for asking a simple question!“We’re hoping that he will attend,” Wei Wuxian cuts in, showing an amazing amount of maturity by deciding to step in before Jiang Cheng starts yelling. Who’d have thought he’d turn out to be the peacemaker between the two? “Why do you ask?”“I'd assumed,” Jiang Cheng enunciates, “That he would be attending if he was going to be hosting your wedding.” This has Wei Wuxian returning to blank-faced confusion. Jiang Cheng falters. “Is he not?” he asks again. Where else are they planning to get married, if not in Gusu? “Did it not say that the letter that the invitation was from the Gusu Lan Sect?” That would require permission from the Sect Leader, and well, Jiang Cheng assumed that meant it came from the Sect Leader. From leader to leader, as it were. That’s how most official correspondence goes, even in less important matters such as these. “Was he not the one who wrote that letter?”“He was,” Wei Wuxian says, sounding genuinely surprised and rather baffled. “How did you know?”Even Lan Wangji is staring at him now. Wei Wuxian scratches his nose. “Lan Zhan and Brother Xichen shared writing out the invitations because well, you know what my handwriting is like, but… how did you know yours was written by Zewu-Jun?”Is he really that stupid?“Who do you think I write to about sect matters?” Jiang Cheng demands, his voice rising as he finds himself flustered for no reason. “Of course I can recognise his handwriting!”Before Wei Wuxian can latch onto Jiang Cheng’s discontent and wheedle him till he is truly red in the face, a Lan disciple shuffles into the clearing with his eyes lowered. “Second Young Master Lan. Sect Leader Jiang. Senior Wei,” he says, bowing. “Sect Leader Jin has arrived and wishes to speak with you.”Jin Ling?Jiang Cheng forgets himself and leaps to his feet, even though he is not the one his nephew came to speak with. Since the events with Jin Guangyao, Jin Ling has sought to put some of the lessons Jiang Cheng has ruthlessly drilled into his head into practice. The current one, the biggest one he’s decided on, being that he take up his place as Sect Leader. Right now. Now, as in on the heel of Jin Guangyao’s disgrace.Was he mad, Jiang Cheng had asked, or just as stupidly selfless as Wei Wuxian?Jiang Cheng was very vocal about his disapproval at first, thinking it was a poor decision discoloured by grief, but Jin Ling surprised him by replying that it was the right thing to do. That his sect (that part hurt, he had to confess) needed him to be strong because it was so vulnerable right now. And he was right, in many ways he was right, but Jiang Cheng didn't want to admit it. He tried to point out that with the way things had turned out, Lanling Jin was a writhing mass of very angry people right now, and Jin Ling wouldn't know how to handle being dragged into that political quagmire.There were so many trials coming up, so much hatred eating through everything, and countless demands for retribution for that bastard’s crimes. The people were looking for someone to blame, or at least to take his punishment. Others were digging deep to find how far the rotten root spread and power grabs were coming from each and every direction. Jin Ling didn’t deserve to be thrust into all of that. He was too young, and none of the blame belonged to him anyway. To have to pay for a dead man’s crimes whilst trying to learn the ropes was too much to ask of anyone.Jiang Cheng didn’t care that his own start as Sect Leader was questioned at every turn, and the relentless waves of criticisms thrown at him back when he was so young and sensitive only added to his insecurities, seeping into the darkness in his heart and forcing him to choose between pouring his every ounce of strength into fighting to be heard or letting himself be walked over. He was forced to make decisions when he was too young to understand what they were asking of him, and yet, despite being fully aware that no one really believed in him, he'd also noticed very quickly that no one was fighting him for his position, because the burdens that came with that responsibility were too many to count.He'd paid for his sect's renewed success with his childhood, his happiness, and his conscience. But that was by his own choice, he told Jin Ling. He should have added that it was because he had no other option because that was the foot Jin Ling chose to stand on—that it was his choice too, so either Jiang Cheng could support him or leave him to it.(You taught me to pull out weeds before they spread, Uncle. He’d crossed his arms and fixed a scowl upon his face, which mirrored the one on Jiang Cheng’s almost perfectly. If I don't do something now, those weeds will grow. Lanling Jin is weak right now. It will tear itself apart if someone doesn’t do something about it.But why must it be you? he’d asked, and then he held his tongue before he could add: why do you care about them anyway?)It terrifies him to think of Jin Ling amongst all those greedy wolves, each of them uncaring as to whether he floats or sinks, only if he can benefit them in any way. A child's life is like a piece of paper on which every person leaves a mark. He’s read that somewhere before, and cannot help but think: Jin Ling is only fifteen. He is on the cusp of becoming a man, but in the end, he is not quite there yet. He is still a child, and forever a child in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. Those Lanling wolves won’t mark the paper, but likely rip it to shreds. Jin Ling stalks into the small, and increasingly more crowded clearing with his head held high, looking exactly like the peacock his father used to resemble, dressed in gold like a king. To everyone’s relief, Jin Ling chose not to don the Sect Leader’s robes yet (most likely because he would drown in them, making him look even more a child amongst adults). The only distinction between the unburdened boy he was before and now is the fact that he does not run to Jiang Cheng with an imperious cry of “Uncle!” as a greeting.Instead, he makes his way over to him and clears his throat, raising a hand fist salute with a calm, “Uncle.”(At least he is still ‘Uncle’ and not ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ to him, Jiang Cheng thinks. Yet. In a more formal setting, he wouldn’t be. But here, he is.)He grunts a gruff reply in an attempt to mask his pleasure.Jin Ling turns to the others. “Hanguang-Jun. Senior Wei,” he says, bouncing on his heels once with a quick dip of his head. “Congratulations.”Jiang Cheng gapes and then elbows his brother. “First, you said?”Wei Wuxian shoots him a smirk, which he returns. “Only by a few seconds.” Then he leaps to his feet. “You’re definitely coming then?”Jin Ling puffs out a breath, his cheeks bulging briefly as he stiffly announces: “As Sect Leader, I accept your invitation.” (Jiang Cheng barely refrains from rolling his eyes at this. That looked almost painful.)“And?”“And what?”“As nephew?”Jin ling flushes red. “What nonsense. I’ve already given my answer!”Wei Wuxian scampers over and manages to sling an arm around their nephew. “Thank you for your congratulations, A-Ling! It means so much that you came to give it in person!”“Let go!" Jin Ling bellows, wrestling with the troublemaker for a bit, but it’s clear to everyone watching that he’s obviously enjoying the attention. Jiang Cheng allows this for no longer than a minute, and then he says in his deepest voice. “And why haven’t you come to reply to me in person?”Jin Ling freezes, then shrinks like cloth in hot water. He almost makes to hide behind Wei Wuxian, but then seems to remember that that isn't what a Sect Leader would do. It stops him from hiding, but he seems to wither under his uncle’s piercing gaze.“I wrote to you weeks ago.” You little brat. “And yet, no reply, no nothing.”“I’ve been busy!” Jin Ling exclaims, fighting fire with fire, though his is but a candle to Jiang Cheng’s well-stoked hearth. “There is a lot to do still, Uncle. I was going to answer! In fact, I sent a letter just a couple of days ago.”"Oh, did you?"What a coincidence it is that he is here at the same time as Jiang Cheng? Jiang Cheng smothers a laugh and thinks, mark your words, brat, though he is somewhat impressed with Jin Ling’s quick thinking. Even if Jiang Cheng goes home now and finds a letter on his desk, will it have been delivered after he left or moments before his return? There’ll be no way to tell.“I will read it then.”“What letter?” Wei Wuxian pipes up. “What’s happening?”“None of your business!” Jiang Cheng sputters but then rolls his eyes at the inevitable whining that follows. “Fine, fine! I’ve been trying to get Jin Ling to agree about him coming here to study before it’s too late for him to do so. He is young, so he has to take advantage of that.”Wei Wuxian seems to consider this with a serious hum, but then he squeezes Jin Ling to him, who responds with an offended squawk. “You sound like an old man speaking like that, Jiang Cheng!”“Uncle,” Jin Ling cuts in before he can even think to be angry. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”Jiang Cheng huffs. “What do you know?" Then adds, "And what is the point of me reading your letter if you’re telling me this?”“Sometimes it’s better to talk about these things in person,” Wei Wuxian says idly, offering his opinion where it's not asked for. He doesn’t seem at all miffed by the fact that his thunder has been effectively stolen by Jin Ling’s issue with Jiang Cheng trying to expand on his education.“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Jin Ling says, twisting his sleeve. “But I really am very busy! There’s a lot of work they want me to do…”Jiang Cheng’s heart twists at the expression on the boy’s face. You don't have to prove yourself to them, he wants to say. What they think doesn't matter. You're good, A-Ling, you're so good. To already have so many burdens… He only flickers a look towards his brother for the briefest of moments. It's apparently all that is needed to convey his thoughts.“What if,” Wei Wuxian says, spreading his hands out in the usual way he does before laying out a plan. “Your uncle arranges it all for you, so all you have to do is show up?”Jin Ling’s face scrunches. “What, you?”Wei Wuxian quickly wafts a hand, though his eyes twinkle with happiness at Jin Ling's slip. “No way! Your other uncle.”The only other uncle that is left. Jin Ling’s mouth thins into a hard line. Jiang Cheng can just imagine what he’s thinking. On the one hand, that would be really helpful. On the other, as Sect leader—“Let me do this, Jin Ling,” he hears himself say aloud. The boy’s head whips up, his face smoothing for a moment, then quickly reddening again. “As a favour, to you and your sect, this Sect Leader offers to support you in your studies. As a gift, from Yunmeng Jiang to Lanling Jin.”There is less and less Jin Ling allows him to do for him anymore. Even arranging his escort when he travels between their sects, or coaching him in his training, or lecturing him about his bad habits. Jiang Cheng knows he is slipping through his fingers, and soon their time together will dwindle down to nothing.At seventeen, he hadn’t known how much his life would change to fit around his sister’s son. How much of himself he would give to him, or how much he’d receive from him in return. For fifteen years he’s been writing on Jin Ling’s paper, all his hopes and dreams. The good wishes that would have come from his parents, laid out in Jiang Cheng’s inferior ink. He wrote him rules and reprimands, but also guidance to try to help him succeed in whatever battles came his way.In his softer moments, in the secret quiet of the night, with a baby in his arms, he wrote countless promises to always be there for him, and that he would put Jin Ling before everything. Always. Even the truth.Despite all his plans and preparations, Jiang Cheng never realised until years had passed that his written words were being read. That Jin Ling was listening to all he wasn’t saying, and reading into far more than what was actually written. It was with no small amount of horror that Jiang Cheng realised he’d written yards upon yards of words, and Jin Ling was built upon his words. Now, as Jin Ling has begun to pick up his own brush to write, Jiang Cheng asks himself: Have I done enough? It is a question he asked himself every time Jin Ling approaches a new milestone in his life, and the world begins to churn around him with interested, hungry eyes. Have I prepared him enough for what his future holds? Have I given him enough of myself? He cannot say. The only thing Jiang Cheng is certain of is that he would give him more if he would let him. He has so much more to write. But Jin Ling is almost a man now. They're right on the threshold of that great divide. And he has no right to keep him tied down to the limits of his poor imagination.“Well, I… I suppose so long as Uncle is willing to support me, then I accept.” Jin Ling barely holds back as Sect Leader, and a rush of fondness nearly bowls Jiang Cheng over as Jin Ling bites his lip and shuffles awkwardly on the spot. (A wisp of memory coils around Jin Ling then, rounding his face and shrinking his height till he is level with Jiang Cheng’s knees. He’d come to visit him at Koi Tower, and heard out from the maids that Jin Ling was refusing to let anyone pick him up, despite being tired from playing and sorely in need of a bath. The moment his eyes landed on Jiang Cheng though, his face lit up. Uncle, the dirty child had lisped, already tugging at Jiang Cheng’s sleeve, Uncle, I'm tired! Uncle, pick me up!)A dull pain comes with that memory, as Jiang Cheng starts to realise that this is possibly one of the last times he will be allowed to provide for Jin Ling in the way he would prefer to keep doing for the rest of his life. This is one last big thing he can do for Jiang YanLi and Jin Zixuan’s child. After these next few years, he will have to step back and… and let him go.And life will go on, somehow. As will he. After all, Lotus Pier will always need its Master. “A-Ling,” he says, with more warmth than he usually allows. “Leave it to me.”Jin Ling nods jerkily, finally managing to shake Wei Wuxian off his person. “Thank you, Uncle. I must… I'm going to head off now.”“Remember to say hello to A-Yuan and Jingyi before you go,” Wei Wuxian insists.Jin Ling huffs at the order but nods again before scurrying away.Watching him go leaves Jiang Cheng feeling oddly hollow. The flick of Jin Ling’s ponytail and his hair streaming out behind him muddles with memories of combing back that thick mane and tying it up himself. He cannot recall the last time he did that for him. Then again, he hadn’t known at the time it would be his last.“What’s wrong? Are you having more old man thoughts?”Jiang Cheng blinks, dispelling the memory. “Watch it,” he snaps automatically, though the tone he's using is all wrong. He feels like someone cut the string to his favourite kite, and now it’s floating far, far away whilst he is left rooted to the ground. “I… now that you’ve mentioned it, I guess I ought to go speak to the Old Man himself about this.” In as light a voice as he can muster, he adds, “Maybe talking about this will distract Lan Qiren from your wedding.”“Oh, how kind of you, Jiang Cheng! Make sure to give him a really good distraction then!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, shooting him a toothy smile. The one he uses whenever Jiang Cheng doesn't want to talk about what's really on his mind. "I have some ideas if you want?"“No thanks. This might just be enough to occupy his mind. Be grateful,” Jiang Cheng warns. “This counts as half of your wedding gift.”Before Wei Wuxian can open his mouth to protest about that, Jiang Cheng sweeps out of the clearing in a whirl of purple robes, his broken kite-string trailing the floor behind him. “Master Lan Qiren is not here at the moment,” he is told. “He’s away on important business and will return… soon.”How convenient.Is Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s wedding really enough to have scared off the Lan elder? Jiang Cheng snickers to himself. For all that Lan Qiren claims that their sect is calm and unmoved by strong emotion, he sure seems to lose it a lot around Wei Wuxian. Then again, as his one and only failure of a student, Wei Wuxian is a black mark on his otherwise pristine record. He can see how that would make it difficult to stomach him becoming 'one of the family'.He wonders if Lan Qiren will attend the wedding at all, or if his 'important business' will take him away again for the whole summer.It bothers him a bit, though. Couldn't Lan Wangji have told him his uncle was away before he left to speak with him?Jiang Cheng decides to go for a walk around the Cloud Recesses before looking for Lan Wangji, to stretch out his legs after all that lounging around. Isn’t it sad that he is so unused to relaxing that it makes his muscles ache more than if he’d been training? He bends his back until it cracks, and scowls at the thought of becoming an old man. The scowl melts away when he recalls how his sister used to call him a ‘little old man’.So serious, A-Cheng, she’d laugh, stroking the wrinkle between his brows. When he’d carefully count his pocket money coin by coin to put away for safekeeping, she’d brush a hand over his hair and smile. On days that local musicians would come to play for them in the square, she’d sit beside him and poke at his cheeks and say, you have an old soul, little brother, but it had never sounded like an insult. He pauses halfway down one of the many wandering paths. Why is he thinking so much about his family lately? These ghosts that follow him everywhere don’t tend to speak to him often, but today they are whispering things in his ears almost constantly. And the thing is—the thing that stops him in his tracks, is that none of it hurts like it used to. The fact that they are gone remains and sours everything he remembers about them, but somehow the memories endure past that cold sting. Past pain and stubbornness, they keep escaping from that locked up chest inside him, and he is left wanting to smile.Is this it? Is he finally healing? After all of this time, is this him moving on?He can hardly believe it, if it’s true. It’s not how he thought it would happen. With no huge revelation, with nothing in particular changed—he has changed, somehow. The ghosts are soft hands cupping his face, not angry tears streaming from his eyes. A-Jie, he thinks, testing the sound of her name in his mind, and then aloud in a whisper. A-Niang, A-Die. His heart doesn’t break. It aches still, to think of them gone, but a scene suddenly fills his mind of A-Die returning home after a long trip. Him running over and being swept up in his arms because he was so small, and A-Die was a giant to him back then. You missed me, A-Cheng? he’d asked, cooing when Jiang Cheng responded by bursting into tears. Good, good, he’d laughed, rocking him side-to-side. That must mean that you like me a lot. A-Cheng! He is packing for Gusu, but this is his first time properly leaving Yunmeng, so he has no idea how to fold all his clothes or what he should even bring with him. Come here, silly child. A-Niang snatches the crumpled shirt from him and clicks her tongue. You should have asked Jinzhu to help you. Just this once, your mother will help you. Now watch me.Jiang Cheng opens his eyes, and the world is a blur of green and grey. He scrubs a hand across his eyes and is glad to see no white robes around to see him cry. What was that? What’s happening to him?Is he going mad?No.He knows what it's like to lose your mind.He breathes slowly, in and out, and then follows the path around a bend. Somehow, this doesn’t feel like that at all. Jiang Cheng knows the feeling of madness. The hot haze of bloodlust on a battlefield, everything tinged in red and black, and his screams raw and burning in his throat. For a long time, any one of these memories would have shattered him—left him a broken mess on the ground, and his reputation in tatters if he were found by anyone like that. But when things changed so much in such a short space of time... he broke and he broke and he broke, and now he is the dust and cannot break down any further. All these memories he is rediscovering, he holds onto with gentle hands. He allows himself to remember with a softness he couldn’t find in himself before. The softness is alarming, if only because it feels alien to him, to look back and smile. He didn’t think he was capable of doing so anymore, and yet… a sweet voice whispers in his ear: did you know that we were once made from dust? (Four years old, and still small enough to sit on his sister’s lap. Her voice is the best at bringing stories to life, and he'll believe just about anything she'll tell him. He thumbs at the pages, tracing the shape of words and trying to guess what they say, but A-Jie is not even looking at them. It’s not the story written down here, but I like to believe what I believe, she explains, pulling his hands away and holding onto them, that we began as the smallest of the small. Eventually, we got bigger. The goddess Nüwa shaped us from clay, it says. Here, look.)Maybe he is losing his mind.Maybe this is all just nonsense, but inside Jiang Cheng there is a huge, swirling nonsense. A vast emptiness he has to do something with, or else it will swallow him up. Just like before the world was made, when everything was chaos and disorder, he needs to get himself in order, and fast.There was a Jiang Cheng that existed before Jin Ling, and even one who existed before Wei Wuxian came into the picture. Now that they are both leaving him (one to marry, the other growing up) he has to think of himself. He was somebody before, and he will be someone again. He just has to remember who that was before all of this began.Maybe that’s why his mind insists on remembering. Part of him is hoping to find something in the past. Some remnant of the boy he used to be, a glimpse of the man he’d hoped to become. Part of his reminiscing has roots right here—in the Cloud Recesses, where he came to study for a whole year.It was a simpler time back then, when Lan Qiren’s infamous closed-book-exams were their biggest fears, and things not so much loomed above them as lay before them, on countless roads with endless opportunities. That peaceful time didn't even last the full year, but it was the last light before things grew horribly dark—but he's not thinking about that. The good times... there are a couple of memories he can dig up of when he visited the Lan Sect with his father. He was very young then, and can only vaguely recall being bored to death of the meetings, and throwing a tantrum when he got too homesick to bother trying to behave properly anymore. Jiang Cheng pauses.There is suddenly more that he remembers. A wealth of memories he didn't even know he had.That time, the First Young Master Lan decided to distract his screaming guest by offering to take him off Jiang Fengmian’s hands. He told him he would take him to play with his brother, and Jiang Fengmian had smiled at the boy and handed him his son. Lan Xichen had carried him to the other side of the grounds, and they sat on the grass till he calmed down. They... what did they do after that?Okay, so that part he doesn't remember, but probably after crying so much he was... tired? Did he sleep? (That's how it used to go with Jin Ling. Crying himself to exhaustion.) Jiang Cheng scours his mind, but all he can recall is that when Lan Xichen tried to introduce him to his little brother—oh. Jiang Cheng hadn’t liked that at all, and neither had Lan Wangji. Poor Lan Xichen had to spend the rest of the time trying to stop the two from breaking out into an all-out brawl, as both of them had decided that the other was taking too much of his attention—He stumbles.He barely catches himself, but the path—the path is gone. He turns around, and yes. The path ended a couple of steps back.Ahead of him is a stretch of grass that slopes downwards and disappears underneath a film of thickening mist. There is what looks like a small cottage that sits before him, half-obscured by the white dancing mists. His eyes follow a scattering of royal blue flowers leading to where the cottage starts to disappear, and he considers exploring it a little further... But then, he almost slaps himself. What the hell is he doing, wandering around like a mournful ghost when he’s meant to be sorting out Jin Ling’s schooling?Jiang Cheng spins around and marches back the way he came. His footsteps sound like thunder surrounded by so much silence. The few disciples he comes across immediately veer out of his path, the fluttering of their white robes like the wings of doves startled off their roost.He decides he must speak to Lan Wangji about this. If he is in charge (the de facto leader right now, with both his brother and uncle unavailable), then he is the one he must speak to. When he has managed to track him down or to be correct—tracked Wei Wuxian down—who knows where he is, the answer he is given boils his blood.“Busy?” he blusters, “I am busy too, if you haven't noticed, and I cannot afford to wait around for the Old Man to turn up. Either I speak with Hanguang-Jun or else—or else…” "Or else what?" His brother purses his lips. "Jiang Cheng, you're being unreasonable."He’s out of options.Unless.“Zewu-Jun,” he says, latching onto the idea. “Or else I will speak with him.”“You will not.”What is it with Lan Wangji and turning up at exactly the right time to piss Jiang Cheng off? He glares at him, his frustration finally aimed at the right target. “You,” he growls. "Where have you been?"“Watch your tone, Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian frowns, stepping in front of his husband. “Why are you so angry anyway? Did something happen since you left us?” His eyes widen. "Oh! Was it the rabbits? Did they bite you? I keep telling Lan Zhan—"Jiang Cheng almost starts snarling, but above Wei Wuxian’s shoulder looms Lan Wangji, and he… he reminds himself that he didn’t come to fight with either of them. He doesn’t even want to. He is just tired and emotional, and—And lonely.Looking at both of them, watching Jin Ling walk away from him... That itch from before—he gets it now. What it is: loneliness.How pathetic.The inevitability of this adventure of theirs coming to an end: of Wei Wuxian officially leaving the Jiang Sect register for the Lans’, of Jin Ling moving to Koi Tower to inherit his rightful place as Sect leader... it leaves him alone.All he is left with are memories. He really is an old man.“I…”Jiang Cheng has nothing to stand on. Nothing to hold onto. No one to be with. He is alone. He is dust.“I’d like to sort this out before I leave. That way I won’t have to come back," he says. Wei Wuxian cocks his head in confusion. “What’s the rush? School doesn’t start till autumn. I don’t think Teacher will agree to start early, even for Jin Ling.”“I'm busy.” That sounded desperate, even to his ears. Jiang Cheng covers his embarrassment with a disdainful sniff. “It’s important.”Wei Wuxian’s eyes soften. To Jiang Cheng's humiliation, he sees right through him. “I understand that, but—”“Brother will not be disturbed.” Lan Wangji’s voice is hard. Cold. Daring. That does it. Without warning, without meaning to, little zips and purple sparks crackle around Zidian. Jiang Cheng’s pot has bubbled over, and he—Again, he cannot explain his reaction, or why he loses control so quickly when there is no cause for it. His anger is his alone, his exhaustion his, his loneliness his to deal with. It’s no concern of theirs that he is suffering, and he knows this (he knows this) but it’s as though his soul leaves has left his body, and all he can do is watch things unfold without being able to stop any of it. Wei Wuxian is trying to hold his husband back, but he’s fucking tiny compared to what he used to be, so all that is holding the enraged man back is his reluctance to shrug Wei Wuxian off.Zidian is half-transformed and Jiang Cheng is shrouded in purple light, but can they not see?Can no one see?Beyond the lightning, beneath the growl in his throat. He isn’t there. That isn’t him.Jiang Cheng watches as his anger catches aflame instantly, as though despite him having tried to bury his foul temper with the rest of his sorrows, he didn’t dig down deep enough. Years of feeding his anger have turned it into a beast—a literal raging monster that he can barely contain. Never mind what he truly wants or feels, it always fights to get to the surface to control what others see, and it always wins.It takes the reins, and... and does he really look like that all the time? His face twisted into an ugly snarl, his spiritual energy dark and menacing, toeing the line between being good or being resentful.That isn’t me, he wants to shout, but even Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to be able to see him anymore.Why is he acting like this? Why is this happening? Was it that stupid memory from before?But… surely he isn’t so out of control of himself that something like that would trigger something like this?His first time meeting the Lan brothers was, to put it plainly, an embarrassment.He’d projected his homesickness onto a poor boy who had just been trying to comfort him, thrusting him into the role of the older sibling he was missing, and latching onto him when he had only offered a helping hand out of politeness. Then, when he tried to get him to play with his actual little brother, Jiang Cheng had thrown the most spectacular fit you'd ever seen, and basically, the whole thing quickly spiralled into a disaster.He can only barely remember that he cried all the way home and his father couldn’t summon the will to try to scold him because he was too worried that Jiang Cheng would make himself sick if he didn’t calm down.But that was all that had happened, and those were fights between children. It shouldn't even warrant being remembered.Jiang Cheng wonders if Lan Wangji remembers it. Whether Lan Xichen remembers having to pull Jiang Cheng off his brother before he nearly bit his ear off.Why does he remember? Is he really so lonely that even that memory is one he looks to for comfort? Those simpler times. Things that aren't even anything special.If someone were to ask Jiang Cheng what he thinks of Lan Xichen, he would say that he thinks him a good man. A kind man. Steadfast and strong, and generous to a fault.He is someone who had always been there in his life, in some way or another. Whether that was distantly (through his parents, and basically everyone else, all of them talking about how incredible the heir to Gusu Lan was growing up to be) or directly, during the many times he’s had to interact with him in person, over sect business or otherwise. He would call him an ally, at most. A good ally, to be fair—one who has always come to Yunmeng Jiang's aid when it was needed. But although he admires him, he cannot call him a friend. They exist in different circles (they always have), and though he has worried about him from time to time over this past year, they aren’t close enough for him to have asked how he was doing outside of professional correspondence. Seclusion means being left alone, so Jiang Cheng has honoured that request.(If Jiang Cheng was going to linger for this long out of his body, he was going to have to try and figure this thing out. Stringing together the flimsiest connection between his mind and his heart, he could sort of see where his anger was coming from. If he twisted his head sideways and squinted, it almost made sense.)But that sort of detachment was alright because Lan Xichen was not a friend to him. It didn’t mean that he didn’t care about him, but that he wasn't one Lan Xichen would go to for comfort. There are plenty of others to fulfil that need, and that is where Jiang Cheng's anger has taken root.The man didn’t deserve what had happened to him, and to have felt the need to lock himself away has struck a chord with Jiang Cheng. He’s learnt through his own awful experiences that you can try to avoid things, or hide them away, or lock them up… but none of that will change the fact that they exist. They remain, and sometimes they fester. Grief can survive in isolation, but a body—a person cannot.And it has been a year, and yet Lan Xichen still hides from the world.The thing is, unlike Jiang Cheng who was left utterly alone when he was forced to shoulder his own grief, Lan Xichen has a brother to help him. A nephew, an uncle, and now a brother-in-law too. So why aren’t they helping him? Do they think that by letting him stay in seclusion for so long, he will get better? Jiang Cheng had no choice when it happened to him. There was no one to help him back then, so it’s no wonder his misery grew to become his most defining feature, moulding him into the harsh, angry, bitter old man he is now. There is no excuse here though, with all the people Lan Xichen has, that none of them has cared enough to try and pull him out of his self-imposed prison for a full year. It's shameful. It’s as if they’ve decided to leave him to rot—He comes back to himself and finds that the world has fallen utterly silent. Lan Wangji’s expression is one he can only compare to that 'dead-wife-look' he used to wear, but he looks shocked too, as though he's been slapped. The wild light in his golden eyes is glassy. Wet. Beside him, Wei Wuxian looks furious, so Jiang Cheng decides this is the thing he should be focusing on because it’s rare that the man to display a level of anger that borders on killing intent.He must have said or done something truly terrible to upset Lan Wangji. Something bad enough to warrant Wei Wuxian's reaction. To have penetrated that icy heart of his, he can only think that he must have voiced some of his thoughts regarding Lan Xichen.He's always brutally honest, but even more so in his head.
It’s as if they’ve decided to leave him to rot—
Please, please say he didn't say that out loud. Even for Jiang Cheng, that is cruel. “You have no idea,” Wei Wuxian grits out, voice shaking, “No idea what’s going on around here. You have no right to make such assumptions. To say such things.”
Words can hurt, A-Cheng. You must be careful how you use them.
He blinks, and shame lances through him. What has he done? What did he say? It says a lot that Lan Wangji makes no move to put himself between them, instead, standing behind his husband with his mouth set in a grim line. He looks haunted. He is shaking, and Jiang Cheng feels rotten for having done this to him, because even though he’s never liked the man, that doesn’t mean wants to hurt him. He came here to congratulate him on getting married to his brother, not thrash him apart.“I don’t…”Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to fix this. Leaving now would be cowardly. He should apologise, but he doesn't know how to without them knowing it's insincere, because deep down... he does stand by what he said.It’s been a year. He’s heard nothing about Lan Xichen at all, so what are they all doing? Leaving him to rot indeed. It dawns on him too, that after the wedding the married couple is planning to leave Gusu to continue their travels. Wei Wuxian told him himself: they’re going to leave, and then Lan Xichen will be even more alone.He's projecting. He knows he's projecting his own loneliness onto someone else. But is it not true?Jiang Cheng can imagine it clearly. Knowing the type of person Lan Xichen is, he will probably wave them off with a smile, and then go back to his lonely house, skirting past all the happy people around him. He will fade into the background to avoid drawing attention to himself. He is much quieter, much better at controlling his emotions than Jiang Cheng is. Jiang Cheng will do the same—return to Lotus Pier, to his empty house. The only difference for him is that he will also be preparing to help Jin Ling pack up his stuff, to leave him come the autumn.(Jiang Cheng isn’t worried for himself though. He has been preparing for this from the moment he brought Jin Ling home with him as a baby. He wouldn’t worry about Lan Xichen either if he were of sound mind, but after what happened... he was in no way prepared for any of it, and with what happened... added to a year of seclusion, it does not sound like he’s of sound mind.)You have no idea, no idea what’s going on around here. You have no right to make assumptions. To say such things.He imagines Lan Xichen locked in a darkened room, mourning in silence with no one who can understand his grief.But what does Jiang Cheng know?After all, Lan Xichen is not his friend. He’s not for him to care about.“I don't care,” he barks out, stunning himself by saying the total opposite of what he should be saying. But the truth, the truth is important. He hates lies. He fucking hates them so much, that even here, where it would be kinder (and smarter) to bow his head and apologise, he cannot do it. "I meant what I said." (What did he say?) "You... You should know better than to leave a grieving man alone."Oh, that wasn't what he meant to say at all.
"Jiang Cheng!"
That was the truth. Pure truth. Painfully honest.(In those years grieving alone, with only his anger as company, the wine looked good. The knife looked better—)Lan Wangji's eyes spill over, his mouth trembling, his shuddering breath tearing through the silence. Wei Wuxian leaps forwards, his teeth bared at him."Leave!"Jiang Cheng hates truth and lies and everything, but most of all he hates that he runs away from all of it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A man grows most tired while standing still.
The thing about quiet places is that it makes everything loud. Even a whisper can travel over a greater distance than you might expect. The disciples of today are not nearly as careful as they think either. Not nearly as cautious as they used to be about spreading rumours in their youth.Even without catching wind of the day's excitement, Lan Xichen would have heard of Jiang Cheng's arrival soon enough. Even without all the gossip, he swears he knew himself when Jiang Cheng arrived.The man is like personified thunder and rages like a storm when provoked. The roar of a sword piercing through the air. Lan Xichen hasn't flown with Jiang Cheng in years, but he remembers when they were fighting ghouls in Caiyi Town, and the whistle of all their swords streaking through the air was like a battle-song.It's truly amazing how far a sound can travel.And very useful for keeping up-to-date on current events.He hears about him through the rustle of hushed voices. Sect Leader Jiang—did you see? Soaked, from head to toe! Did he fall into a river?Then, later in the morning. He's just walking around in circles though. Who'd have thought Sandu Shengshou could look so philosophical? It's creeping me out!Moments ago. Ah, he'd better not go there! What do we do? What do we do? Should we call Hanguang-Jun?!Lan Xichen closes his eyes, leaning back against the wall and listening to the excited children clucking their tongues and chittering like a brood of hens fighting over grain. He wonders where Jiang Cheng has wandered to that is causing the disciples to panic so much.There are lots of places in the Cloud Recesses that are banned from the general public, but Jiang Cheng is one of their oldest allies. Even without using his name to open doors, a lot of those places are open to him simply due to the trust that is shared between their sects.That honour was also, at some point, unofficially granted to him (even agreed with by Lan Qiren) on the common knowledge that Jiang Cheng has no interest in sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Unlike his brother, he prefers to keep a distance from other people. In all the years he has known him, Lan Xichen has never spent more than a handful of minutes here and there, and each one of those times, he was doing most of the talking. Though perfectly polite and courteous, the words they exchanged were empty and perfunctory, and as soon as the quota was met, Jiang Cheng would take his leave. Once or twice, Lan Xichen has wanted to ask why the other man was so reserved, but he held his tongue. Was it due to the tragedies he'd faced or was that simply the type of person he was?Now, he's pretty sure it is the latter. After years of his acquaintance, from their darkest days to now, he's seen Jiang Cheng express a limited range of emotions. Well, that was not strictly true, but of those emotions, most could be interchangeable with the other, all of them versions of the same thing. Anger, most commonly. Impatience too. Disgust. Pain. Regret. And then, sadness. Grief, to be more precise.The last one was never intentional and far from obvious, but from time to time he'd seen him catch sight of something that would make his face go blank. His body would become heavy, like stone, his shoulders hitching up defensively and his hands would curl into loose fists. It wasn't harsh like the anger he so often displayed. This made his movements slow and weary. Jiang Cheng would blink a few times, and then his shoulders would spring back, and the grief would be pushed aside.How did he do it? How did he, someone younger than Lan Xichen by four years and known for being led by his emotions, cast off his grief so easily? How did it listen to him? Was it too afraid of him to object to being neglected?Here Lan Xichen was, ascribing emotions to emotions. Losing his direction over a host of questions that all asked the same question: why can't he do that? Why can't his grief be shrugged off? Is his really any greater?If you're counting people, Jiang Cheng has lost his mother, father, sister, and brother-in-law. At one time he'd even lost his brother too. In comparison, Lan Xichen has lost two sworn-brothers. He won't count his father. He won't count his mother. Those losses happened so long ago that his grief over losing them is far more obedient, and only really comes to him when he seeks it. Two sworn-brothers. Two, to Jiang Cheng's five. Less than him, and yet he can't stand it. He's fallen down, he can't get up.Quite literally: he's fallen down. He can't get up.Sat on the floor, his head pressed against the wall, he has no strength.What is the point of all the hand-stands they do? All the training? Years and years of work and his body refuses to move. It's not for lack of trying though, and it's not the phantom weight of his grief that is doing this. Lan Xichen stumbled after he stood up too quickly and the blood rushed to his head. It was as simple as that. He tripped and fell, and now he's on the floor and can't get up. The last time he fell was—Well, that was probably a couple of days ago, but what he means is: the last time he fell before seclusion was... when? As a child? When he was learning to walk? Lans were taught how to move gracefully as soon as they'd mastered walking, so tripping and falling was never a thing.(Apart from those few times he'd grabbed Wangji's hand and dragged him behind him, running into the forest. With a wild laugh trapped in his chest and his eyes so fixed on his brother's bewildered face, he'd forget to look ahead and—oh. Oops. Ouch.)This is a really bad day.It's not always like this. Some days he is perfectly capable of walking around without tripping, and he... he goes about his day just fine. Today was not like that. Today he became weak without warning. It hit him like that—bam. And he was down. Wangji won't be happy, he thinks. His brother is coming for lunch today.He can picture it: him opening the door, seeing him there and flying across the room. How long have you been here? Lan Xichen grimaces.It's embarrassing. It's inconceivable to explain what is happening to him. It makes no sense. It happened again, he'd have to say, and his brother would frown. No more would need to be said. It's happened before. How many times now?Lan Xichen quickly redirects his thoughts. The whispers come again, this time the two disciples who have volunteered to guard his door (guard it, as if he'd try to escape) are the ones who are muttering. "...we ask if he wants a guest room?""This is not a hotel. He shouldn't have come here so suddenly if he wanted to stay. What was he expecting?""Did you see Ouyang's face though? Poor guy had to tell him Teacher was out. He almost shit himself.""I heard Sandu Shengshou laughed, actually.""Obviously I wasn't talking about him..."Lan Xichen frowns a little. It hadn't occurred to him to question the reason why Jiang Cheng has come to visit, but the disciples are right—what is he doing here? And for him to arrive so suddenly too, unannounced...It must be important. Whatever it is, Jiang Cheng doesn't do social visits. But what... Lan Xichen can't think of what would warrant his presence. There's no business between their sects that cannot be resolved by letter.His thoughts are cut neatly in half." —ah, ah! A-Tao, why are you running!""H-Hanguang-Jun... Hanguang-Jun—""What about Hanguang-Jun?"Lan Xichen's blood freezes."Senior Wei had to take him to the jingshi! He was so—so upset! It was that guest’s fault!"There's no need to say who. What did he do?"What did he do? Did they fight??"The eagerness in their voices should really be punished. Lan Xichen holds his breath."They were, but he... Sect Leader Jiang, he said a terrible thing." The boy's voice halts and shrinks to half its size. "He accused Hanguang-Jun of... of abandoning Zewu-Jun. Of leaving him to rot."His eyes fly open.He did what?"...Did they fight?"A-Tao huffs. "Is that all you care about? How dare he say that to Hanguang-Jun! We should kick that ungrateful man out—""Do you want to die?" That stops him. The disciples shuffle around. Maybe they've realised how loud they were talking (or bickering, really). "Anyway." One of the guards—a tall boy called A-Shun—clears his throat. "Go see that some tea is sent to him. Whilst you're at it, get something for Zewu-Jun to eat.""That's a lot to carry! Come help me.""We cannot leave Zewu-Jun! Go on—argh. Fine, fine. I think he's resting anyway. Just be warned, you'll be the one telling him.""Telling him what?""That I don't think Hanguang-Jun will be joining him for lunch."But he will. He'll force himself to, because that's Wangji—he always puts others before himself.The guards' footsteps drum the wood in unison, like the hooves of a prancing horse. They leave, presumably to help A-Tao fetch the tea and food. Lan Xichen presses his hands to the floor and shakes violently as he pushes himself to his knees. The whole room seems to be shaking, but it's just him.Once he has his knees under him, he slowly levers himself into a crouch, and then claws his way over to the bed, using the wall to lean on. By the time he reaches the mattress, there is a sheen of sweat coating his skin.There is only one thing that Wangji has ever consistently fought his older brother for, and to this day he refuses to give it up. Three years, he'll say with a deep scowl. What he'll mean is: you aren't that much older than me, I can look after you too. After running smack into that tree that one (or two, or three) time, Lan Xichen had a hell of a time trying to convince his little brother to sit still so he could wrap up his scrapes, because the stubborn lout kept trying to clean his wounds at the same time.He'll come, he knows, even half-dead and bleeding he will come. Unlike Jiang Cheng, his brother doesn't care about hiding his pain. It's ironic how little he cares about his reputation, when that reputation is of such high repute. Aside from that detail, it's rather amusing how similarly yet also differently they approach certain things. Wangji will come to him, cut and bruised, and shrug as if to say, so what? Jiang Cheng on the other hand... well Jiang Cheng will go to no one, but if questioned about his wounds, he will probably shout, you—" —have no idea. No idea what you're talking about'. Argh. He's right. You really don't. You idiot." Smack. "You fool.”Exactly that. Well, maybe not that. He probably wouldn't blame himself for the slight, calling himself a fool—Oh, but that was Jiang Cheng. Really, actually him, and he sounded angry. He must be a lot closer than he'd thought, or was it... ah, the wind. A swirling gust snaps a branch somewhere and makes the trees around him shake and groan. Like a storm, he'd said, and he was right. "Stupid."
Thunk.
"Stupid."
Smack.
"Stupid!" Crack. Lan Xichen twists around, about to close the window above his bed. He has no desire to witness another man's breakdown when such a thing should have never been heard, but then he hears a small tap and looks down. A dragonfly.It must have been caught in the earlier downpour, and as he bends to examine it, it becomes obvious that two of its wings are damaged. One of them ripped clean off, the other torn badly. It won't live long, he thinks, gently touching it on its slender spine. It squirms and flips onto its belly. He smiles. Still got some fight in it left. Alright then. He pauses, caught midway between several things he'd meant to do. To think he was stopped in his tracks by a dying insect. How ridiculous.He should go look for his brother, to see that he is doing alright. With the guards gone, it will be a little more difficult having to walk around to find him, but that is not his concern. If Wangji has retreated to his jingshi with his husband, he wonders if there is really anything left for him to do? Though the troublemaker might not look it, he is surprisingly rather good at comforting people.Of course—his method is mostly to make such a fool of himself that the person in question will be provoked into laughter and forget their sadness. It works remarkably well, most of the time. He is also naturally better suited to comforting Wangji because, well, isn't it obvious? The man is comforted just by being in the same room as Wei Wuxian. Breathing the same air, sharing the same space. It is more than enough.(So that is sorted then. For now, at least. He'll check on him later.)He should confront Jiang Cheng for upsetting his little brother, but he... they're not close enough for him to bring up something personal like that without it being very awkward, especially since what he's heard was overheard. Gossip is not ever a reliable source, and he doesn't know the full story, so he has no right to take a side—then again, that's his little brother Jiang Cheng hurt. Is that not reason enough?(Then again, the two have never gotten on well, and Jiang Cheng may be volatile but he's not mindlessly cruel, so he has to consider that something must have happened to have caused him to lash out.)Lan Xichen looks at the facts, and all they are telling him is that he doesn't have enough information to make a sound decision. To sit back and do nothing, however, doesn't sound like the right thing to do either. And yet... hasn't this whole year been about learning this very lesson?
Don't get involved. Don't stick your nose in other people's business. Don't assume that you know what other people are thinking.
You don't know anything.
Nothing at all.
...He should really close the window and stop listening to things he shouldn't be listening to. But then how will the dragonfly leave once it's healed? Lan Xichen eyes his tiny patient, who hasn't moved since being prodded in the back. In his mind, he laughs at himself. The thing is going to die anyway. What is the point in trying to help the poor thing? Just a waste of his time.Lan Xichen twists the other way, turns to his night table and picks up the jug of water. He could drown it. Crush it. Put it out of its misery.Instead, he dips his hand in the jug. "I'll need to take you to the pond later," he says quietly to it. "Or... probably more likely, I'll get the others to do that. Otherwise you'll die in here. But for now, you can rest. Also, this is all I can give you so you'll just have to—sorry sorry sorry!" The tiny vibrating wings tickle, but he tries not to touch them. Tries not to get them wet whilst he wets the belly. "You breathe through your stomach, or so I've been told." The dragonfly seems to shudder, its wings fluttering and then stilling. It looks like taking in a huge breath."Better?" he smiles, placing the dragonfly back on the sill. Lan Xichen scoots around to reach for a cloth. He soaks it, folds it, then carefully puts the patient in its new bed. "There. I hope that feels better. I hope... I hope I'm doing the right thing!" he laughs.The dragonfly twitches, and then goes still. It's impossible to tell if it's alive or dead based on stillness because, well it's an insect, and Lan Xichen doesn't want to bother his guest if he's sleeping. The smile remains as he turns back to the window."Ah."The rain has returned, and it has become heavier than before."I'm sorry," he says softly, "But I'll have to close this. I don't think you'll be leaving anytime soon, anyway."He shuts the window. All the sounds of the outdoors which he hadn't even noticed before—the rustle of leaves, the murmuring of footsteps, the whistle of the wind—suddenly cut off. Lan Xichen presses a hand to the glass and lets the cold seep into his fingers. A puff of breath fogs up the glass. He turns away.It is the silence, more than the solitude, that he finds difficult to stand. His brother never lets him go more than a week without a visit, but when he comes his silence is not silence. There is a whole conversation in his glances, the cadence of his breaths, the flickering light in his eyes that moves like a candle flame. They can sit together for hours not talking, and Lan Xichen will still feel soothed by his brother's mere presence. He is not quiet, in the way that so many others like to think and criticise. You just have to listen, and you will hear what he is saying. Not everyone understands that. He finds it baffling sometimes because something as simple as that, how difficult is it to understand? Listen, and you will hear."If you were a rabbit, I would know how to heal you." Lan Xichen leans his head against the wall again. He's breaking two rules: slouching, and adopting a pet. But this is between them, and it feels good to talk to someone. "Wangji has so many rabbits, and they like to get into all sorts of places. If you were a duck too, I would know what to do. If only people knew how many injured creatures we've taken in—me, and my brother—why, they would think the Cloud Recesses was a sanctuary for animals!"Both of them, from being very young—whenever they came across a creature crying for help, they would scoop them up and run for their mother's house. All manner of creatures were accepted as an honoured guest, and they would watch as she'd take their new friend and set them up in an old jewellery box, a broken shoe, a cutlery drawer.Get the ointment, A-Huan, she'd say, her voice nothing but professional as she'd send her sons into a flurry. The rice. Mash it up fine, A-Zhan. They'd flutter around her, hearts in their throats. Once the patient was tucked in 'bed' and resting, she'd turn to them and put her hands on their heads. Well done, my sons. It was never laughed at, and each lost life was solemnly laid to rest in her garden. If only others knew that beside every gentian patch were the bones of one of their old friends. If only they knew how bitterly they'd wept at the loss of so many small, dying creatures. This is nostalgic. Bittersweet. Lan Xichen gazes down at his new little friend and sighs."I hope you get better. It will be wonderful if you do."The patter of raindrops cuts in as the wind finally sweeps it across towards him. The rhythm of it is soothing, loud and steady. Even the howl of the wind is nice. If he could, he'd walk out into the rain right now and stand there, smiling. He used to love doing that, as a child. Even when Uncle would scold him, or even drag him back indoors by his ear to be punished, he would risk it—all for the joy of every droplet hitting his skin.The smell of things turned sweeter in the rain, and to his musician's ears, the world would become one single voice. The thrill of listening to that soothing melody, of hearing the world sing to him, was too wondrous and special to avoid. Punishment was worth being amongst it (or so he would tell himself, and Wangji, later).I'm meditating, Uncle! he'd protested once, though the giggles that kept escaping him didn't exactly help his case. The world becomes quiet in the rain! It empties the mind!
Nonsense! You are enjoying yourself too much to be meditating!
He'd dug in his heels, pinwheeling madly and twisting around like a slippery eel, and then he broke free and legged it back to the garden. (That garden—his mother's garden—that stands in-between two houses. Two tiny cottages. Describing it like that makes it sound like they stand close together, but the 'in-between' is a large stretch of sodden grass. The in-between is a graveyard of many fallen friends. It is a place where he and Wangji would play together as children, because it was a place where their parents could see them as they did.)He'd laughed loud enough to be heard over the rain, and called out to both his parents in his joy. The curtains had fluttered, and two faces had appeared immediately. Look at me! he'd yelled, I'm meditating! Their laughter poured out from either side, and it was... it was only when Wangji turned up, all of four years old and already utterly committed to the rules, and came and stood by him that Lan Xichen decided to go inside.(Not all the times were bad. Not everything about their family was tragic. Sure, the separation, the isolation, none of that was ideal, but Wangji and he were the distance between. They were what connected their parents, no matter how far they were pulled apart. Him in the rain, with his baby brother's hands clutched in his, twirling around and laughing at his bewildered face... )Lan Xichen sighs."I'm meditating, Uncle," he mutters under his breath, closing his eyes and emptying his mind. The problem he always finds, the most difficult part about meditation is that when you empty your mind, it invites all sorts of other things in. One by one they come, and then by the thousand. It is the first step, the overwhelming moment when you must face all that you are, and let yourself acknowledge it.Every time Lan Xichen has done this, (from the age of three to, well, now) he always has to stop here, because it's like having someone pour a river into your hands and tell you to not spill any of it. The first time he tried meditating, he squirmed away from this sudden realisation, whining that it's a lot, it's too much, and then Uncle held him still and said this is you. Don't be scared. Face yourself, A-Huan. This is important. His way is not the ‘Lan way’, but no one can see what goes on in his head, so he does it like this: the niggling thoughts, the lingering ones—he sorts those out first, so they are out of the way. Then, his body and every point that it touches, he focuses on that next.Sit down, Xichen. His Uncle's stern voice always checks him here, and he is grateful for it. Sit down. That's already a lot to ask—to sit, and know that you are sitting. That the world is sitting with you too. Once that is achieved, everything else is easy. The world spills open, his heart opens and receives. It's simple and good.First—the thoughts. Lan Xichen's first thought is of his brother.(He accused Hanguang-Jun of abandoning Zewu-Jun. Of leaving him to rot!) A knife lances into his side, forcing a wet gasp from him. Tears spill over. Ah, just settling in for meditation always gets him sensitive, but it's not only that: Wangji's pain is his pain. They are brothers, through and through. They will never abandon another. (Wangji, Wangji please don't cry. Please. Let me hold you, brother's here—) But Wangji has Wei Wuxian now. His husband. Lan Xichen sucks in a long (painful) grateful breath that the wait is over. That his brother's suffering is finally over. Though he can never settle on his opinion of the man his brother married, he knows he is a good man at heart, and that he loves him. He is safe with him, and they are together at last.Deep breath in and out. They're together. Looking after each other. All good—check.Second—Jiang Cheng.A flare of anger this time, that catches him off-guard. But of course, he's feeling protective. That man... why would he say such a thing? Why does he care whether Wangji has abandoned him or not, or whether he is really rotting in seclusion? They aren't close. They've never been close. Why would he... the only thing Lan Xichen can think of that can justify his behaviour is if he pities him. But no. That can't be it. Jiang Cheng wouldn't. Would he?Is he so pitiable that a man like Jiang Cheng would speak up in his defence? That he would assume he needs looking after—But he does. He has. He is. This whole year he's been in seclusion and yet, he is no better for it. They'd all hoped that seclusion would provide a safe place for him, and that a year would settle his heart, but it's his mind that is the problem. There is so much that he cannot run away from, and cannot afford to ignore anymore. Everything he should have seen but wouldn't.That's the problem in itself: not that he couldn't see the truth, but that he wouldn't. He's traced as far back as he can remember, to his very first meeting with both of his sworn brothers, trying to find the root. His first moment of weakness. That critical, first mistake.But there are so many. So many things and so many times. Was it a mistake to have accepted the helping hand offered to him when he was starving and half-dead on the streets? Was it a mistake to have approached the feared heir to the savage Nie Sect and offer to spar with him because no one else would?The answer is: yes. Yes to all of it. Yes to everything. That is a simple truth. None that happened would have happened if he'd stuck with his Uncle, that first time when he accompanied him to the Discussion Conference, instead of venturing out to explore the Nie Sect compound.If he'd kept his head down instead of meeting the eye of that freakishly large (and troubled) boy. If he'd kept his face a blank mask instead of offering him a smile. They wouldn't have become friends that way. The mighty Nie MingJue wouldn't have become dage to him then, and he wouldn't have seen him smile in return—None of what followed would have happened too, if he'd rolled onto his face and let himself drown in the puddle he'd landed in. But it did, because he... because he..."T-This year..." A branch crashes into the window, a scream of angry wind. Then all goes silent apart from his shuddering breaths."This year is wasted." Lan Xichen, the revered First Jade of Gusu Lan, bows his head and weeps. It happens every time. He is sitting. He is meditating and the world is sitting with him, and then it cracks open and he can see everything. All the things he didn't want to see. All his mistakes, all his sorrows. The thing that lingers though is a feeling he cannot describe. A hollow ache that swells inside his chest, and makes it hard to breathe. This is him—this empty, seething void.
Face yourself, A-Huan. This is important.
This weak, broken man. This is him.Lan Xichen claws his hair back and squeezes his skull. Is he going mad? Is this what happens to bad people who try to meditate—the lost souls who are desperate to receive guidance from the universe? Do they go mad when they learn that there is nothing that can be done for them? Or is this what drives them mad?There is something dragging him down. Something that has its hands on him, that is pulling him down into a cold, dark pit. It pulls and pulls, and Lan Xichen just isn't strong enough to pull away anymore. He cannot resist, he cannot escape. The universe whispers to him a warning. A secret he has told to no one yet.Not even Wangji.That if he doesn't find out how to overcome this somehow, he will be joining his sworn brothers soon enough. The gales are strong and heavy with rain. Enough to drown a man, by the looks of things. Jiang Cheng squints at the dark grey sky and scowls. It was blue and clear this morning. Luck is just not on his side today.(Or any day, if he's being honest.)He huffs, folding his arms and considering his options.After that whole disaster before, he stormed off in any direction that would take him far away from them, and he managed to scare some disciples into telling him which parts of the Cloud Recesses were unoccupied. So, now he's here—in a storage room towards the back of the nested buildings. Jiang Cheng is sitting on a stack of storage crates, his leg propped on an opposite shelf.In hindsight, it hadn't been the best idea to kick a tree that hard. Trees are a lot less forgiving than doors. Less likely to be broken. More likely to break you instead. "There you are!"The door was left open because according to those simpering disciples, it had a tendency to jam, and they didn't want him to get stuck in there. He would have scoffed and told them he'd be able to free himself, but then—that would require breaking down another door. And it's not that he can't do it, or that he wouldn't (he doesn't give a fuck about the Lan sect's rules). It’s that he's only got one good foot left, and it would be stupid to bust it on something like a door.Jiang Cheng sighs but his nephew strides in, and the moment that he gathers what has happened (or at least, sees the aftermath of it) he tosses his head back and cackles."Watch it," he growls, but Jin Ling keeps on laughing merrily. "What are you going to do? 'Break my leg?' I'd be more worried about you breaking yours!" The boy is no longer afraid of him (not that he ever was, once he realised Jiang Cheng was not, in any way, serious about breaking his limbs), and merely raises a brow when Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. Then he folds his arms and tips his head. "What did you do then?"This makes Jiang Cheng growl again, and this time Jin Ling sobers up. "Come here," he snaps. The boy scurries over. Together, they manage to get Jiang Cheng upright. He tests the foot and hisses as he puts more and more weight on it—"Alright, enough!" Jin Ling clicks his tongue and grabs him around the waist. "Stop. You're just hurting yourself. Come, lean on me."Jiang Cheng is still tall enough that the boy cannot see him without craning his head back. Had he done so, he would have found his uncle staring at him with the oddest expression. Luckily for both of them, nothing is revealed. The uncle and nephew hobble out of the storage room and for a while, Jin Ling supports him as they cross several buildings. But when they are about to reach the end of another walkway though—The one that leads to the main hall, which leads to the main gate..."Where are we going?"They stall, and with Jin Ling's arm tightly wrapped around him, Jiang Cheng cannot move."Home.""You're leaving?"Another sting. To Yunmeng, he wants to say, to Lotus Pier, where else? Jiang Cheng straightens his back, taking some weight off Jin Ling's shoulders. The boy makes a grab for him."You can't leave!""Of course I can."Curse this kid, he's strong. Those string-bean arms are actually much stronger than they appear. Jiang Cheng wheezes when Jin Ling tightens his grip, and then finds himself being swung around. "Are you crazy?" Jin Ling demands, waving a hand towards the deluge outside. "You want to go out in that? Either you'll catch your death or fall off your sword and then die.""How morbid." Jiang Cheng scoffs. "I've flown through far worse rains than that and I'm still here, aren't I?"Jin Ling's eyes widen, but not out of any admiration. In fact, perhaps the opposite of admiration. He stares at Jiang Cheng like he's really lost his mind, and then presses a hand to his mouth. The reaction is a bit too exaggerated, in Jiang Cheng's opinion. His scowl deepens when Jin Ling shakes his head, feeling very much like their roles have been reversed."So what they're saying is true," he says, and that tone... is he—surely not. "You had a fight with Hanguang-Jun."Again, Jiang Cheng scoffs, but doing so almost chokes him. "That wasn't a fight—""What was it then?"Oh-ho. That tone again, and everything has changed.Suddenly the boy who had been holding him up has become a man holding him there. Jin Ling's lips press together in a tight line, his jaw clenching with the movement. It takes a few moments for him to connect with what is happening, but then it slams into Jiang Cheng with the force of a solid punch to the gut. He's being scolded. By Jin Ling.He opens his mouth, but the boy cuts him off."Weren't you meant to be talking to him about my lessons?" The look Jin Ling gives him sends a shudder down his spine. That is A-Jie all over, down to the exact angle of his downturned lips. "Then how did you manage to end up so far off-script?""Oi, watch it," Jiang Cheng snaps, but it's weak. His retort is swallowed up, overshadowed by guilt."No. This is what always happens. Didn't you come here to congratulate them on their wedding?" He did. He had. "Then why on earth would you bring up Zewu-Jun?""I had no idea it was forbidden to speak his name." Didn't it make sense to ask about their Sect Leader when they were talking about a wedding?"Uncle, listen to me," Jin Ling says, leaning closer. "Even Sizhui and Jingyi don't know what is wrong with him. They aren't being told anything. You know that Sizhui is his nephew too. If they're not telling him what's happening, it must be serious—""If I don't even know that something was 'wrong' in the first place, how could I have known the topic was so off-limits? All I did was ask a simple question!""Well, maybe you shouldn't have!""Watch your tone—""No, I won't!" Jin Ling yells, slamming him back against the wall. "I won't, Uncle. Not until you start listening to me. These are things you taught me to do and not do. First thing: always try to leave others on good terms, and if you can't manage that, at least don't let it be on bad terms. If you came here to congratulate them, why is it that you ended up fighting with them?"When his own words are being used against him like this, Jiang Cheng finds there is nothing he can say. He stares at his nephew, stunned that his lessons have stuck. Horrified that Jin Ling is using them against him now. Mortified that it has come to this, because this... this is another milestone, isn't it? He's under no illusions that Jin Ling thinks he is perfect, but here is the tipping point where the student surpasses the master when he finally sees him for all his faults. Soon, Jin Ling is going to realise exactly how many faults Jiang Cheng has, and when he does... when he realises just how pathetic his uncle is..."Uncle—""Shut up. Just shut up!" He shoves Jin Ling off. He rocks back, almost tumbling off the wooden platform, but then Jiang Cheng grabs him by the collar. Jin Ling lets out a shriek as rain starts to pelt him on his exposed neck, and Jiang Cheng immediately hauls him back under the roof, sputtering and gasping. Without pausing for a second, he peels off his outer robe and wraps it around his shivering nephew, shoving him further away from the edge. For a while they both focus on staying away from the rain, which has started to angle sideways, reaching further into the sheltered walkway. His efforts to escape have all been for nothing because Jin Ling leads them both back to the main courtyard, which is better protected from the elements."Who chooses to build their sect on a fucking mountain?" he grumbles, dragging a reluctant snigger from his nephew. It makes his mouth twitch to hear it.Then they reach a long stretch of corridor that is thankfully dry. Before Jin Ling can pull away to confront him again, Jiang Cheng wedges him under his arm, forcing him to stay. The boy (a boy, once more) resists a bit but then snuggles close to his warmth. Even though they're close together, Jiang Cheng knows they can still fight like this."Uncle," Jin Ling tries again, quieter this time though. Softer. Annoyingly enough, it manages to quell Jiang Cheng's immediate response (which would have been to yell shut up! again), and he grunts to let him know he's listening."I worry about you, Uncle. I hope you know that."That... was not what he was expecting. Perhaps his confusion (shock) shows, because Jin Ling presses into his side and cants his head back to meet his eyes. "I mean it. I worry about you. That you... that other people misunderstand you." He shakes his head ruefully. "But I think I get it now. It's the same for me in a way. I try to talk to the people in my sect, but they don't know me. They don't care about me. They don't listen to me, because they think I'm just a child. It would help if they would only try to listen."Jiang Cheng listens. The words pierce through something he was not aware of. Something he has been using to shield himself ever since he was seventeen, and the world demanded that he inherit his father's place, but no one really believed he could do it. He nudges his nephew."You are a child, though."The boy snorts. Thank god that humour wasn't lost in all this heavy conversation."Jin Ling," he says, thoughtful and slow (and calm, he thinks, amazed that yes—he is in control of himself right now). "I'm listening. What do you mean when you say that I'm like you?"A deep sigh is released, and Jiang Cheng wonders if the two of them are two old men in disguise. How can such a sigh belong to a fifteen-year-old boy?(He hears his sister laugh at his habits and hobbies, his grouchiness, and odd moments of wisdom.)"I just mean that people don't take the time to listen to you. They're too scared that you're about to gut them if they don't say or do the right thing.""Or break their legs."A smile. "Or break their legs. I just wish... I wonder if it will be like that for me. Is it because I'm young, or is it just that people like us aren't listened to?"Cold. A sharp spike of fear. People like us? Jiang Cheng's mind blanks. What does Jin Ling mean by 'people like us'? He has heard, of course, the things people say. He's seen how some people marvel (or pity) how closely Jin Ling resembles him, in the way he speaks and acts. In his temperament, which is always moments away from exploding with emotion. He's passionate, some kind souls have said. Spirited. Others have warned that there will be another Sandu Shengshou someday. One equally as ruthless as the original, but with added riches. Think what type of havoc he'll bring to the earth, with that temper and all that money. What a terrifying thought—God, no.This is never what he wanted.When he took Jin Ling in, it was to keep him away from his other (living) uncle so he wouldn't turn out so—so... so despicable. It wasn't so that Jin Ling would turn out to be like him though. It was never for that. If Wei Wuxian had been alive (and not a disreputable, murderous demon cultivator, of course), he would have probably thrust Jin Ling at him to look after, if he'd known how much the child would mirror the person caring for him—Even Wei Wuxian, with all his faults and bad habits, is a better person to take after than him. Even he can admit that. "-ncle? Uncle!" The shaking drags him back to the present, where Jin Ling is looking rather panicked."Ah." Jiang Cheng pauses, trying to remember the question. "No. It's just because you're young. You'll grow up and they'll learn to listen.""But you—""You're not like me!" The wind whines and a spattering of raindrops hit them on the face. Jiang Cheng doesn't so much as blink. "Jin Ling, you are your mother's child. Your father's son. You aren't like me, understand?"It's clear that he disagrees. With a frown, "But everyone says—""Don't listen to them! Listen to me!" A crack of lightning. Jin Ling shivers again, this time hard enough that his teeth rattle. The thunder comes barely five seconds later. "Come on. We need to go inside. Where the fuck is the way back, anyway?" Jin Ling grins, unable to resist preening. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up and get us inside!"As they stumble back towards the dormitories (did Jin Ling get them rooms?), Jiang Cheng makes sure to stay on the outer side. The rain batters them during the whole part of the exposed length of the walkway, but Jiang Cheng never got properly dry since arriving in the Cloud Recesses, so he shoves Jin Ling back inwards when he tries to switch them around.Silly boy thinks he can throw his weight around, but even though he mightbe stronger than he looks, Jiang Cheng has at least thirty pounds on him. A couple of rounds of wrestling and the boy gives up with a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle."A-Ling," he huffs, and signals for rest. They pause in an empty corridor again, leaning heavily against the wall. Jiang Cheng tests his foot gingerly and finds that it is numb, hopefully from the cold. Jin Ling tuts loudly and forces his way under his arm before he can swat him away.With them, it was never as simple as reaching for a hand to hold. There always had to be a reason for it first. You cut your hand? Give it here. Let me look. He'd clean the cut, but then he'd tell Jin Ling this was a good opportunity to learn how to fight with both hands. But you're too inexperienced for that right now. You'll probably end up cutting off your other hand. Let's do something else. Have you done any studying today? Then they'd head to his study, and that lesson would involve a story, and that story would require that Jin Ling curl up in his lap, because—how else are you going to learn? You thought this was going to be done in an hour? Ha! Get comfortable. This is a long story, and you'd better remember all of it.Or it would go like this:Uncle, you're going to end up a hunchback. Sit down. He'd sit, and Jin Ling would clamber onto a chair behind him and start pounding at his back. His tiny baby hands were always too sharp, pinching at his muscles, and instead of loosening his knots, they'd just end up tickling him.Eventually, Jin Ling would get annoyed at his sniggering, and he would drape himself over his shoulders. If you sleep, you'll get better, he would insist, and would refuse to move until Jiang Cheng gave him a few good, loud snores. There you go. I fixed it.It's never as simple as going for a hug. But this time, with Jin Ling propping him up like a crutch—He's taller, by at least an inch, if not two. Immediately, he wraps his arms around him, and it's that simple. It's all it is."A-Ling," he says, holding him tightly. "You are your parents' child. Not mine. Understand?"There is no answer, but that silence speaks for him."Your father was called a princess too," he says, to which Jin Ling lets out an offended gasp. He adds, "But that was because he was surprisingly brave and noble, and princesses tend to be the better ones in stories, as you know. Princes are a bunch of spineless dicks.""Dicks don't have spines though, Uncle—""Watch your mouth. Anyway, as I was saying, I didn't expect him to be as righteous as he was, but he proved himself to us, time and time again. He was a good man, you know. His men would never question an order, and were quick to draw their swords when he'd draw his."Jin Ling lets out a happier noise, already tipping his nose up. Truly his father's son."Your mother," he says, "Would always try to speak for me. 'That's not what he meant,' she'd say, and she'd be right, because she was the one who knew me best. Your idiot uncle too, would know exactly what I meant, but he's an idiot so he doesn't count." Jin Ling grins. "But your mother told me once that it's the people who love you who will always try to listen. She had the amazing ability to reach people's hearts. To let them know that they mattered. She..."His voice is wrecked. Hoarse, and jagged like broken glass. It usually goes that he will end up losing his voice after talking to Jin Ling about his parents. Not because he talks for hours, but because the memories claw themselves out of his throat. Jin Ling knows what it costs him to reach into the past, so he never complains. "She always knew how to calm me down," Jiang Cheng finishes. His face is already wet, so he isn't too worried about being seen. "I miss that. I need that.""Uncle—""Thank you, Jin Ling," he whispers, resting his chin against the side of his head. "Thank you." When Lan Xichen woke, the rains had gotten worse. It was an earsplitting boom which woke him, in fact. The thunder, come to rouse him from his sleep."Ugh," he'd groaned, rubbing his sticky face.He'd found a bowl of food and a cold pot of tea on the table beside him, and promptly chose to forego it. After that disastrous meditation session, he wouldn't be able to hold anything down. He felt too jittery. Strangely energised by his impromptu nap. Or perhaps he was just too pent up from all the imbalanced qi in his body? Whatever it was, he was going to ride the energy boost and take full advantage of this rare opportunity to do something.The thing to do, he quickly decided, was to write a letter to fix this.Sect Leader Jiang, he'd written, and proceeded to hash out, in the most passive-aggressive voice known to man, exactly what he thought about what he'd said to his little brother.In the most beautiful, sweeping calligraphy he could muster, he wrote something to the effect of: if you so much as harm a hair on Wangji's head, I will come out of seclusion just to whip you with your own Zidian. Am I clear? After a moment he scratched that out. There was no need to be so aggressive.Though, if the whole point of the letter was to put Jiang Cheng in his place...Some threatening was needed. Even so, was it necessary to be rude as well? Please do not do it again, sounded much more like him. He still believed that somewhere, there had to be a reason why Jiang Cheng had felt it necessary to lash out like that. The man cared too much about the reputation (and security) of his sect to risk losing face.Lan Xichen started again. Please don't say such things to my brother. You must understand, he isn't to blame for what has happened to me... The ink dripped on the paper, ruining it in thick splotches that spread open like blooming flowers. He gave up. It wasn't like this was a formal letter anyway. He'll hand it to his guard to deliver, and leave it at that. If Jiang Cheng felt the need to come knocking on his door later, then he'll deal with him then. After this long, bad, god-awful day, Lan Xichen was done with trying to think any more deeply about things. This was the furthest he'd allow himself to meddle: enough to show that speaking to Wangji like that was not acceptable, but not so much as to get properly involved. With all the trouble it was bringing him to think up what should have been a simple letter, he'd had to bite his lip to resist adding a little bit of profanity in it. You'd better fucking not, wasn't something he thought he could find a polite way to pass off though, and as he deliberated over this, a little voice in the back of his head piped up: it's not like he cares! Maybe he might even prefer less flowery words! Sometimes to be understood, you have to speak the local language! It sounded like his drunk voice, so he tried not to pay it much attention. He couldn't help but pause for a moment though, because Jiang Cheng did swear quite often, and maybe it would help—He sealed the envelope before he could overthink it.And now, standing at the door, he blinks at the empty porch. "A-Tao?" he calls, but his voice is whipped away by the wind. Of course.They must have come to deliver his food and then... and then left? Apparently so. It seems they left while he was sleeping, and the bad weather had kept them from returning. No matter. He can wait. ...Or he could go himself?It's not like it's far—Lan Xichen squints.The main house is barely visible through the thick sleet, and yet he knows it's right there. He's lived here all his life. He has counted there being thirty feet at most to the main house, and yet the courtyard is impassible like this. Even at full strength, if he were to fly across the space in a split second he'd still end up soaked. As his mother used to say, you're less likely to get wet swimming than in a rain like this. Well then.He turns around, considering his options. The walkway that connects the hanshi to the rest of the main house is really, really long. Even with the energy he's got right now, it's unlikely he'll be able to make it. Ideally, he'd cut across the courtyard to save himself the trouble, but the rain is too heavy. If that's the only way... unless.Ah-ha. Although the Cloud Recesses is built to the effect of floating houses hidden amongst the lofty clouds above, the Recesses part refers to the way the Lan ancestors must have used their immense arm strength to hack at the mountain, carving their homes into the rock so they could withstand being blown away by all the horrible weather.There is a wall that circles the length of the back of the compound. It emerges from the mountain and reaches out either side, as if with two immensely long stone arms, to embrace and shelter the rest of the houses. Following one of those arms will take him to the heart of the Cloud Recesses in half the walkway's distance. The direction the rain is coming means he'd also be protected by the wall if he makes sure to stick close to it.Lan Xichen tucks the letter in his sleeve, presses one hand to the cold stone, and shuffles along. The air is frigid, and mud splashes everywhere, but he is determined to at least reach the main house. Then he can give the letter to someone else to pass on, and tell them to make sure Jiang Cheng knows that... that what? He should leave? That he's not welcome here? No, no, that won't do. He's got to be welcome. He's a guest. Tell Jiang Cheng that he must apologise?
(Do you want to die?)
Lan Xichen snorts. He can't imagine scolding the man without picturing his face turning red in fury. Then that would make two Lan brothers Jiang Cheng will have on his black-list, except it would be Lan Xichen's fault for having given his opinion where it definitely wasn't wanted.He'll tell whoever will deliver the letter for him to say nothing. He will wait, and then see what comes from sending it—"Well, now that you've calmed down, I tell you what I really came to say—""Oh, here it comes."Fuck. Why is he always walking in on Jiang Cheng's private conversations? Last time, it must have been him talking to himself. Now it's—"Uncle, it isn't good to leave things like this. You taught me that an apology is a good way to have the last word. Do you want Hanguang-Jun to have the last word? Or Wei Wuxian?"A sigh."I'm beginning to regret teaching you things."He hears them scuffle. A squawk, and then Jin Ling cries uncle again (in a different way), but he simmers down after a loud grunt. What are they doing? Lan Xichen frowns, his head cocked as he trudges forwards. They are on the other side of the wall it seems, making their own way back to the main house just like him. What are they doing out here in this rain though? Surely they aren't trying to leave. It's not safe. He opens his mouth to say so—"Do you think it will change anything? Lan Wangji and I, we don't get along. He probably doesn't even care what I said.""That's not true! Jingyi told me he went straight to the jingshi and wasn't seen at dinner. He's very upset!"He tries very hard to focus on walking, and not tripping in the mud, but... the two are right beside him. He can hear the slosh of their footsteps on the other side.There's no way of ignoring what they're saying, and as Lan Xichen listens, he can't help but feel a sense of wonder. To hear Jiang Cheng talking like this: so openly, and admitting that he agrees what he said was wrong... now he really wonders what made him say that in the first place. He sounds like he really didn't mean to cause offence. "A-Ling, when you grow up you'll come to realise that us adults... we're very bad at following our own advice. Even when we do, things rarely go the way we want them to. My apology won't matter to him anyway.""But as Sect Leader you have to! It's important to keep good relations with your fellow sects.""I wouldn't worry about it too much. It's not like there's anything to ruin between me and him.""But what about Uncle? I mean other Uncle?""Oh, so you're calling him 'Uncle' now too?""You've been doing so well with him lately. Don't go ruining it now over someone like Lan Wangji, especially if you care for him so little. Didn't you tell me that you want things to get better between you? How can that happen if you've offended his husband?" Squelch. Probably a foot being stomped. "You're standing in the way of your own success, you know!"Lan Xichen almost bites through his cheek. That boy has guts!"S-Stop remembering everything I say! And don't address that man so disrespectfully! He has a reputation, you know? You have to watch out for—oi, stop laughing. Jin Ling. I mean it!""Haha! Uncle is such an old man—!""This is what happens when I let you talk to Wei Wuxian too much. Filling your head with nonsense. You think you're so clever. Do you want your legs broken? Stop laughing!"A branch snaps underfoot. Lan Xichen freezes, but the rain is too loud. After another few cautious seconds, he continues. It's only after a few steps that he realises he is smiling, simply from listening to them talk. The three of them walk for a bit, the rain abruptly switching its bearing a few times as the wind whips around in the storm. His plans to keep sheltered are moot, now that the rain is coming from every direction.Lan Xichen slows to a halt. There is still a long way to go. Can he make it? He doesn't feel too tired yet. Just listening to the others' conversation has kept him too distracted to really notice how he feels."I'll give it a go."He staggers forwards, hurrying to catch up. He has to hear this."But don't blame me if nothing happens. Lan Wangji has chosen who is part of his family, and he's not the sort of man who cares to make friends.""So... you mean he's like you?""Brat!" Squelch. "Stop moving. Come here! You're going to get sick if you keep jumping in puddles. How old are you? Five?""I'm already wet. It's not like it matters anymore."Lan Xichen agrees. By now he's pretty sure even his undergarments are wet. There's no escaping a rain like this."Maybe you should care."Lan Xichen rubs his arms together. He's starting to feel the cold too, now that he's acknowledged how truly soaked he is. It seeps into his bones. Still, he cocks his head, wondering if he's missed Jiang Cheng's reply, or if he hasn't answered yet. "About making friends, Uncle." That whiny tone is said to be found in all teenagers all over the world. Nearly identical, in every situation. "Maybe you should think about making some.""I'm really getting tired of this attitude of yours. Who told you it was okay to speak like this? Not me, that's for sure. Maybe that's the lesson you should be listening to, for once!""I mean, I know the Lans are sort of strange with all their weird rules and stuff, but I made friends with two of them. They aren't that bad, you know? And you've been allied with them for so long as well. Practically forever. What's one more step towards friendship?""...You want me to make friends with Lan Wangji?"It hurts to hold in the snort. He's pretty sure one of his nostrils almost collapses from how sharply he inhales.If only Jin Ling (bless his heart) knew how futile it effort was, trying to get those two to make friends. Purely for the sake of their sect's close ties, they have managed to remain somewhat civil in each other's company, but beyond that... thirty years, and no progress towards that endeavour. Sometimes you have to recognise a lost cause and call it a day. "He's not as scary as he looks."Scoff. "I'm not scared of him.""When we go on night-hunts, he and Uncle Wei tend to tag along a lot. They're pretty annoying, actually. Acting like we need babysitters! It's another way he's like you, Uncle—he's far too overprotective. When I figured that out, I told Sizhui he has to tell him to leave us alone. I mean, how else will we learn?""Apparently, by only retaining the stupid things I say and forgetting the important parts.""That being said, they're rather handy to have around when things go bad. I've been thinking I should try learning the flute, or maybe the guqin? What do you think? Uncle Wei says if I'm anything like you, I'll have better luck pinning a ribbon on Little Apple's tail than getting a tune out of anything... Hey, how would he even know—""Try singing.""Mm?""Your mother sang well, as did mine. It may be in your blood.""Do you sing?""Ha."Lan Xichen tries to imagine Jiang Cheng's voice. What it would sound like in song. He can't. It's too cold, and he hasn't heard enough of it to be able to render anything in his head that would resemble the real thing. Perhaps he'd sound like the rumbling thunder all around them? His voice is deep, but not too gravelly. It could sound rather nice, he supposes. Though he has to consider that Jin Guangyao's voice had been lovely too, and yet he could not sing to save his life....Poor choice of words."What about Zewu-Jun then? He's nice."The mention of his name is enough to properly halt him in his tracks. Oh, not good. Not good at all. This was bad forty steps ago, but now he has walked too far into it. It's never good to listen to gossip about yourself, but it was barely alright when he was listening to them talk about everything else. This is a private conversation.Lan Xichen pants quietly and turns to face the other way. He isn't even halfway to the main house yet, but he has to head back. There's no way he'll make it."I can't imagine it's difficult being friends with someone like him. Unless you're already friends? Is that why you got so angry?"...Damn it. He can't walk away now that he's gone and said something like that. This will answer the questions he'd been chewing on all day. Why would Jiang Cheng say such a thing? Does he really care about him that much? Does he consider him a friend?"I just hate the fact that he's... it's been a year. He needs help, not to be locked away by himself.""Then why don't you help him?""We're not friends, Jin Ling."Ah.There is his answer then."Maybe he needs a friend."Oh child, he wants to say at that moment, the last thing I need is friends. Look where friends got me? I do not deserve friends. Leave your Uncle alone."If he does, he should look for someone better."Lan Xichen freezes again. He is freezing and he is frozen, because that almost sounded like—"Even if I wanted to help he's in seclusion now, and no matter how much I disagree with the whole situation, we must respect his decision."Oh.Yes, that's right. Out here in the rain, but still in seclusion. When he returns, he'll be back where he's supposed to be. This was his decision. Lan Xichen blinks. How strange, that he didn't even think—that for a moment he forgot where he was, or what he was doing. He's not meant to be out here. He's not meant to have heard any of this conversation. But it was so nice to have listened to them talk. Almost like he was walking right there between them, warmed by their camaraderie and buoyed by their humour. It was a rare peek into the lives of two people he is familiar with but not close to, and how fascinating it is to have heard them interact in a way that few people could say they'd ever seen.That Jiang Cheng doted on his nephew was a well-known fact to the whole cultivation world, but that he loved him like this? Was unknown. That he talked beyond snapping at him, that he played around with him.Lan Xichen had found himself slipping into that same setting (one that he liked to mentally call 'Uncle-mode') and unintentionally comparing their interactions with a set of snapshot memories from his own experience. They may be much louder compared to him and his nephew, but just the way they talk and laugh is almost uncanny.The few times when Sizhui has come to him instead of his brother are rare, but precious.Sometimes when he was younger they were tinged with guilt, because the reason for him coming would be due to Wangji struggling with a moment of intense grief. He would be incapable of caring for Sizhui like that, and so Lan Xichen would wake at an odd time of night or early morning, to a quiet knock-knock on the door to the hanshi.The boy would come to him or try to bring him to his brother, and there was this warmth that would grow inside him that came from Sizhui's concerned little pout and small hands clutching his sleeve. Depending on how bad Wangji was doing, he'd either take Sizhui away for a walk around the grounds, or to go play with the rabbits. Anything to get him to smile again. Anything to distract him from his worries.In more recent years, Sizhui has come to him for teaching, but also for tea. For reading in silence and for voicing his concerns. Sometimes, he has come to the hanshi to describe in elaborate detail exactly what ridiculous thing Jingyi has done to deserve copying the Lan sect rules three full times, and by the end of it Lan Xichen will be wheezing for breath and Sizhui will be wearing a long-suffering smile.It's not all his fault. Remember that you chose him to be your friend, he'd try to point out, in defence of poor Jingyi (who was probably sneezing hysterically from all their talk). Be good to him. It's good that you're so close. Sizhui would throw him a rather dry look. Oh yes, so good. If I stay close to him, I'll end up having to copy the rules out too! Another peal of laughter at his expression, which would be so much like Wangji's that it'd be a crime to ignore. He'd poke Sizhui's cheek and click his tongue. But that's how it must be, when you're as close as brothers—Mm.Maybe don't go there, he cautions himself, far too late. That thing. That thing, he shouldn't think about. He thought about it."Didn't you just say you don't want him to stay in seclusion?"A grunt. "He doesn't deserve it."
Oh, but I do.
"But I suppose it's his choice. Only he can choose to leave it."
I can't, I can't.
"Come now. We both need baths and bed before we get si—achoo! Oh, fuck! Come on!"The two trudge away, picking up the pace until they are far away from him. Lan Xichen hasn't moved since Jin Ling started talking about friends. Chilled to the bone, but unfeeling to any of it. He waits till he no longer hears the slosh of footsteps fading into the distance. Then he turns and slowly makes his way back. When he arrives, peeling his robes off feels like skinning himself. The cloth has melded so tightly to his body that it rubs him raw to take it off. What feels like hours of agonising torture later, he slips into a steaming bath. This time it stings a different way, but Lan Xichen embraces the burn. His flesh softens, but the red rawness of that sting remains long after he's done bathing. His muscles scream for all the walking he's been doing, but he ignores it.He collects his sodden clothes, and as he sorts them for cleaning, he comes across the letter again.It's so sopping wet that it has basically disintegrated, the ink staining everything it touched. Lan Xichen sighs at the mess but scoops up what he can to throw away. He'll leave it to the laundry woman to decide whether his robes can be saved since he's no expert there. It's only the inner sleeve, but well... it's a white inner sleeve. Lan Xichen tosses it to the side and hobbles to the bed. After all that walking and writing and listening, the energy he'd had when he'd woken up has disappeared almost completely. Back to the sore, weak, tired mess of a man he was before, he guesses. He drops face-first onto his pillow, careless to how inelegant that might have looked. No one is here to see him, anyway.Is it all in his mind, he wonders. This lethargy, this pain, this weakness. To have had that spontaneous burst of energy before, and to lose it so soon after. It would make sense to blame it on his emotions. Qi is linked to emotions. They're all taught that from very young. Could it be, then...?"Qi... deviation."Once, Nie MingJue described it to him as being a black fire that consumes all in its path, only the path is you. It crawls into your veins and twists everything you hear. A madness follows that corrupts your heart. Like a poison, it spreads into the bloodstream and further into your soul. Soon you lose all sense of being, and then the descent begins. Nothing can stop the black fire when it wants to burn. Those words haunt him now, and he fears them, because to the Lans, Qi deviation isn't a common ailment. They have no predisposition to it, but that doesn't mean they're immune. If he has it, they won't know how long it might take, or how badly it might affect him. In the privacy of his bed, Lan Xichen cries into his pillow, his shoulders quaking with every breath. Young Master Jin was correct in thinking that a friend—oh, to have a friend right now would be a blessing right now. Someone who can comfort him, but feel no obligation to stay, as family would.Remember that you chose him to be your friend, he'd said, but who would choose to be his friend now? Who would choose to burden themselves with someone as damned as him?"It's just you and me now," he finally croaks, after his pillow is wet and his nose clogged up. Levering himself up in slow, jerky movements like he'd done earlier in the day, he props himself up on the windowsill and sighs heavily. "Little dragon, are you awake?"Gently, he brushes his fingers against a glassy wing.The dragonfly doesn't move.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.
"You're sick.""You're sick."They glare at each other. At the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng notices that the other boys are trying not to laugh. These kids have grown too bold, he grumbles, redirecting his glare to the other side of the room. Immediately, Lan Sizhui straightens up and slaps on a diplomatic face."Sect Leader Jiang," he bows. "Though I understand that you want to go home, you have been out in the rain, and need to rest.""Oh I do, do I?""If you do not want to share your nephew's room, we will prepare a room for you as soon as we can.""That's not the problem here," he croaks, wrestling with the sheets.He should have known he was being led into a trap.
First, when Jin Ling brought him to his friends; second, when he was shown to a small tub, and the hot water was drawn just right; third, when he was given freshly brewed tea and hot food, and in the state that he was in, even Gusu Lan's bland diet tasted heavenly… and after that?
Somewhere between finishing his meal and announcing his intention to leave, the juniors tackled him three-on-one and in seconds he was tucked in for the night. Jiang Cheng really hates that his plans to escape have been thwarted twice now. A big reason for this is due to the bad weather, but this?
This isn't. This is a betrayal. This has Jin Ling written all over it. This is humiliating.Or it would be if these boys were ones seeking to ruin his name. Luckily, Jin Ling's friends are (nice boys) Lans, so spreading rumours is strictly against the rules. Jiang Cheng pins Jingyi with a rheumy eye, having recognised the boy's tendency to blab his mouth as a potential weak point. But the boy isn't looking at him. Too focused on tending to Sandu to notice that he's been made a target. Jiang Cheng's stomach clenches with each pass of the cloth, white light catching off the oil he is using to polish the blade. He doesn't allow anyone to touch his sword if at all possible.(Though he did allow Jin Ling to play with the tassel when he was a baby because the brat wouldn't shut up otherwise.)But the Lan disciples are fully trained in weapon-care, and he wouldn't want the blade to rust. Jingyi, for all his un-Lan qualities, is careful with every movement. In fact, he's movements are almost comically slow. It had to be either him or Sizhui who would do this since Jin Ling and he are swaddled in too many blankets to move.Sizhui is preparing the medicine because between him and Jingyi, he trusts him more to not poison them accidentally. Sandu will at least be able to survive a little rough handling, but they? They probably won't survive if Jingyi botches up the ingredients."This will help warm you up," Sizhui says, pouring them both a cup and carefully freeing one of each of their arms. He is especially careful to dart back out of range, once Jiang Cheng is free. "Please drink all of it. Tomorrow you will feel better.""Your friends are very generous," Jiang Cheng sneers, though Sizhui's smile only widens when he gulps down the bitter brew. "I'm surprised that you're treating me so well. After all, you've probably heard what I said to your Hanguang-Jun."The smile dims for a moment, but then Sizhui shrugs. "You didn't know."Know what? What exactly did he say? Jiang Cheng wants to know. "Well... thank you anyway."He peers at the world through blurry, tired eyes, scanning the room out of mild interest. Something becomes immediately obvious to him then. The bed. The bed where he's lying."You say you prepared this room for Jin Ling?""Yes, Sect Leader Jia—""Then why does it have two beds?"The Lans share a glance. A totally bemused, rather annoying glance. "Because... he asked for them?"Jiang Cheng turns to his nephew, who seems to be wriggling madly in a poor attempt to face the other direction. "Jin Ling.""Who comes all the way to Gusu for just a day?" the boy demands, huffing and puffing from all his exertion. "No one travels that far without needing a rest! Of course I got you a bed!""That wasn't for you to decide!" "Sect Leader Jiang, it really isn't a problem," Sizhui cuts in, his hands springing up the moment Jiang Cheng turns his flaming eyes on him. "We're really glad to have you as our guest! Honest!"No one is ever glad to have him as their guest. Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes to slits, hoping it will focus his vision well enough so he can see better through the bullshit. "You're glad."There is always a bunch of diplomatic nonsense that goes hand-in-hand with hosting and visiting other sects, as Jiang Cheng is painfully aware of this every time that he travels.It's why he tries to keep his journeys short, if at all possible, and when he needs to stop he'd rather camp in the wilderness than risk civilisation. Dirt and trees are far more civilised than politics. His presence at one of the more minor sects would demand a lot of fussing over making his stay comfortable, because to get in the good graces of Sandu Shengshou could possibly set up a sect for life.As for Gusu Lan... they wouldn't benefit from being overly friendly to him anymore, since their loyalty was pledged to each other on the battlefield, and was one of the few things to have survived the Sunshot Campaign without having deteriorated since it ended. If this is being done for Jin Ling, as a way to win over the new young Leader of Lanling, it might make sense. Then again, these boys made friends at Dafan Mountain. Long before any of them knew how soon Jin Ling was going to inherit his uncle's place.As he thinks over all of this at a grinding, glacier-pace, Sizhui starts to fidget on the spot. A-ha."We are, S-Senior Jiang. Really. We mean it." He darts a glance at Jin Ling (who has studiously returned to imitating sleep), and at Jingyi, who has abandoned all attempts at pretending he's not watching him intently. "As Jin Ling's uncle, w-we look up to you too. So as long he is welcome here as a friend, so are you."Jiang Cheng absorbs this equally as slowly, and mulls over the rather bizarre reasoning before he smirks. "Shouldn't it be the other way around? As Jin Ling has pointed out to me rather recently," which he finds a strange coincidence again. Here: the topic of friends returning from the mouth of one of his friends, "I've been a friend to Gusu Lan for longer than he's been alive.""O-Of course!" Sizhui snaps to attention so violently that Jiang Cheng winces in sympathy for his back. "I just meant that you... you haven't come for social visits before, but now that you have, we are very—""Glad," he says, dry as a desert. He watches Sizhui lick his lips, and decides that he's too tired to keep torturing the poor boy, and he's too sincere for it to be any fun to play with him. "Alright. Enough. I'm going to sleep."The dismissal prompts the boys to say their goodnights to Jin Ling (who stupidly replies, and then remembers to let out a ridiculous snore), and then Jiang Cheng waits to fall asleep....He waits and waits.The incense fizzles out, and long white ribbons of smoke hang suspended over the bed and then whip out sideways towards the window. He watches each strand make its way out, tracing the sweeping line with his eyes. Surely the hypnotic motion will send him off soon enough.But no.It doesn't.Jin Ling lets out a real snore this time, swatting at the air and muttering to himself about fairy-boats eating his nose, and Jiang Cheng growls to himself.Typical. Why is it that whenever he wants to sleep and is bone-weary tired enough to need it, sleep never comes?A long time ago, he'd be unable to relax enough, with too many tasks and obligations hanging over his head. The pressure was too much for him to slip into a blissful sleep, so often the only sleep he got was from passing out of sheer exhaustion. Today is different—it's something else. His brain won't turn off, and he won't be able to sleep until he finds out why.Part of it must be that same fluttering feeling from before, the very thing which prompted him to rush to Gusu as if it were under attack. Another must be guilt, and he's aware of that—regret at having messed up what should have been a short, pleasant visit, by opening his stupid mouth and losing control.What did he even say? Was it the full thing? 'You're leaving your brother to rot', or something along those lines? The Jades are so close that they are called Twins by everyone. To target one is to target both. How on earth is he going to earn Lan Wangji's forgiveness when the man hates his guts on principle?How is he going to ask for forgiveness, when a good part of him refuses to budge on the fact that he still believes that what he said was sort of right? Maybe it's a culture thing, but he finds even the thought of going into seclusion a bizarre concept. There are plenty of cultivators who seek isolation to further their training, but they set out on that path with that goal in mind, so whatever befalls them (whether they succeed or fail) is their chosen fate.This sort of seclusion though? Out of grief? It's not the same. It's not realistic. You can't cut yourself after a certain point and say—that's it. Enough. I will grieve no more. It takes years, sometimes even a lifetime to get over losing someone. Do the Lans not understand that? Do they think that you can condense the healing into one year, allotting that time to get over yourself, and it will all work out fine in the long-run? Do they think that it's healthy to rush through the process now, just for the sake of freeing yourself up for the future?That is such a naive way of thinking that Jiang Cheng can't help but think, yes. They probably do. That's probably exactly what they think.The way Lans are raised and taught is geared towards becoming in full control of your emotions. They are told that: emotions are not allowed to command you. If you say you will grieve for a year and no more, that is what you must accomplish, or else risk shaming yourself. But Lan Xichen... the way that they talk about him doesn't suggest that they are ashamed of him.He has the feeling there is something else going on here. Something that is so troubling that shame doesn't even come into it. What he said, was it the truth? Is Lan Xichen really dying in there?But why him, and why over this?They have all suffered so many losses over the years, and Jiang Cheng has seen what grief has done to Lan Wangji. He can see now, how he used the memory of Wei Wuxian to guide his actions—always flying to the aid of those in danger, and earning the reputation of 'being where the chaos is' for doing so. Jin Ling told him that through Sizhui, he's heard that Lan Wangji would play Inquiry every night. Every night for thirteen years. It's unthinkable.And yet, he didn't go into seclusion. Sure, he did for a few years after being whipped halfway to death, but then he came out and continued with his life.Was it for Sizhui's sake that he did this? Is that the difference between them (he and Lan Wangji) and Lan Xichen? The obligation to care for a child, that forces them to put that child above their own grief, never mind how agonising it is to carry on?For a brief moment, Jiang Cheng entertains the idea of telling Lan Qiren to find Lan Xichen a wife. If that is too hard, find him a child. There are plenty of orphans around, and as Leader he will need an heir at some point. If that will get him out of seclusion, why not do it?But it's a terrible burden to put on a child, to bring them into your life for your own sake, using them like a candle against the dark. Jiang Cheng will never, ever tell Jin Ling how much he owes his life to him. It would only terrify the boy to hear how close he came to the edge, and that it was because he needed him that Jiang Cheng never took that final step.It was especially hard, that first year when the Jins were fighting for custody over him, and Jiang Cheng had no one standing by him, but he wouldn't give up because that's my sister's son, I promised her— When they took Jin Ling away, he... he can't remember what happened after that. There are whole months that he has lost between the day he was taken and when he reappeared in his life, where he has no idea what happened. His next moment of clarity was when someone shook him awake and told him to go to Koi Tower. Young Master Jin has made himself sick from crying. He won't calm down, and they're asking that you come. He went in a daze, and when Jin Ling was passed to him, the crying stopped, the boy hiccupped pitifully and curled a fist in his collar.That was that. He left that day with his life in his arms, and never looked back.He saved him many times after that. Sometimes in ways that Jiang Cheng himself didn't realise until later.
[You tell me to eat rice but you don't eat rice.
Why are you always working? I don't want to be Sect Leader if it means I have to do all that!
Your eyes are so red. You look scary, like a ghost! Go to sleep!]
Jiang Cheng swivels his head and watches Jin Ling purse his lips. If it was as simple as lending him to Lan Xichen and asking him to hope, he'd do it. He was safe now. It's not that he didn't need Jin Ling anymore, but that he needs him differently. He wants to keep on living now so that he can watch him grow. Provided Jin Ling is willing... well, either Jin Ling, or maybe the other two juniors—provided any of them are willing to become Lan Xichen's hope—Ah, what is he thinking? It's all nonsense anyway. Mushy gushy nonsense that worked out for him. What would he say to Lan Xichen to convince him to get Lan Xichen to try it? Kids are the future. Hold onto that future. Let it pull you along. Bah. Nonsense.He follows the curve of Jin Ling's cheek and pictures it rounder and flushed pink. He sleeps the same way he did as a baby. The thought makes him smile.
"Uncle, do you know about Madame Lan and Qingheng-Jun?"
When asked that one time, he'd frowned at Jin Ling and told him not to speak about them.It was assumed by everyone that something really bad must have happened to the previous Leader of Gusu Lan and his wife to cause them to go into seclusion, but Jiang Cheng didn't know the full story himself. Something along the lines of the wife having killed someone, but then she married Qingheng-Jun anyway?? It didn't make sense to him then, and it still doesn't now.All he knows is that they ended up in separate houses, and that their seclusion lasted for the rest of their lives. Madame Lan didn't survive that long, as far as he's aware, and Qingheng-Jun died after the Cloud Recesses were burnt down.His jaw clenches, as it suddenly dawns on him why his subconscious has thrown that thought at him. If the only thing that freed these Lans from self-imposed imprisonment was by their death, or in Lan Wangji's rather special case, after thirteen years and by the return of a long-dead loved one, what hope did Lan Xichen have?The situation was at a dead-end. Literally, at a dead-end.As he stares at the problem, his mind is far too tired to be able to discern any possible way to fix it. It is a tangled knot of string with both ends lost in the middle. His thoughts drift towards the easier side of his brain, where instinct governs everything and pettiness is king.Regret. Envy. Two automatic emotions that never stop cycling throughout the human psyche. Two constant modes of thinking that are far too easy to fall back into: you look and compare, and regret and envy.Jiang Cheng tries to compare himself with Lan Xichen, but he doesn't feel any better for doing so, because there is too much he can empathise with. Whilst he feels lucky to not be in the pit with him—he has been there. He knows what it's like. Out of their generation, he considers himself, Lan Xichen, and possibly Nie Huaisang the biggest losers out of everyone.Left without parents, a sister, a brother, and without friends—they are alone. They will be left behind by all of this, as everyone moves on.Even though they have won, they have also lost. He groans internally. That sucks. So much. It really, really sucks.And it's impossible to look across the water at someone else in the same situation as yourself and feel any better for comparing yourself to them. When he looks at Lan Xichen right now, all he can think is—
Maybe he needs a friend.
...not that, but—Well, maybe that.Jin Ling makes a good point, much to his chagrin—that the loyalty is already there, their alliance and duties have forged enough trust between them that Jiang Cheng isn't immediately suspicious of everything that comes out of Lan Xichen's mouth. What is lacking is... urgh, what exactly?When was the last time he made any friends? He can't even remember how to. Ah, what do you even do to make friends? Wei Wuxian would be losing his shit right now if he heard all of Jiang Cheng's panicked thoughts. Rolling around on the floor laughing his ass off. How do you make friends, Jiang Cheng? he'd cackle, but what could he say?It's never been a priority of his to assemble a large cohort of people to hang out with, and people don't tend to flock to him anyway like they do with Wei Wuxian. None of any of this comes naturally to him. He struggles with even the most basic of social interactions, and just trying to imagine reaching out to someone—Ugh.Ugh, no. It'll never work.
Didn't you just say you don't want him to stay in seclusion?
Jiang Cheng glares at the back of Jin Ling's head.Sleeping so peacefully, yet his words are keeping him awake! He grumbles to himself that he does, of course he does, that's why he's even entertaining the idea of befriending Lan Xichen. Then he turns to pick up where his mind's previous meanderings left off, and it leads him back to his own brother: Wei Wuxian. That fool, who could probably befriend the god of death, if it came to it.Jiang Cheng cringes at the thought of asking him for advice. Nope. Not going to happen. He'd rather give back his golden core than lose that much face—Well maybe not. That's a bit of an exaggeration.But when he considers what Wei Wuxian might tell him to do, and how likely it is that what he'll be telling him will be a load of nonsense... Of course it's normal for friends to write each other poetry! The more flowery the better! Also, you should try to dress exactly like them! Wearing the same things is a compliment. Do you not trust me, A-Cheng? Your bestest ever big brother? Too many times he's bought into his bullshit, and ended up walking three-quarters of the way in the wrong direction till he realises that he's lost.In this case, the potential for disaster is large enough to convince him to stow this whole friendship-idea into the 'never let Wei Wuxian catch wind of this so help me god' box he keeps in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind, and pray that he doesn't develop telepathy as his next magic trick. He'll be damned if he's going to actually give Wei Wuxian the idea for his next greatest prank. So, if he's going to do this himself, that begs the question: how?...The friends he made in his youth, back at Lotus Pier, were a result of being in the same crowd as Wei Wuxian. A side-effect of being Wei Wuxian's friend meant you also got to become his little brother's. That's how it went. Maybe... maybe he should ask himself, how did he make friends with Wei Wuxian then?When his father first brought him home, the whole thing with his dogs being sent away made him hate him on principle, but somehow... somehow after that, that hate turned into love. The transition must have happened without him noticing, which means—Which means it was probably Wei Wuxian who pursued him in friendship, not the other way around. Damn.Oh, that's right. He remembers now. He was forced to share his room with him, and all that hate was whittled down over time through simply sharing space.As soon as he saw how little Wei Wuxian had to bring with him, yet how much he smiled despite his tragic past, he... he was baffled by how such an unlucky person could be so hopeful. The mischief hadn't started yet, with Wei Wuxian still so careful around his new family, too anxious to step a toe out of line. Seeing this, Jiang Cheng poked at him, needling him with questions and shoving things in his hands.You need to do something, he'd said, thrusting a wooden puzzle at the skittish boy, you can't just sit there doing nothing. That's creepy. He found himself amazed that he was answered with smiles and laughs. Shidi, you are too blunt! Aw, don't make that face though... I like it! You speak your mind! Back then, he hardly spoke to anyone outside of his parents and sister, so to have someone boldly say I like you! was a huge shock to Jiang Cheng. After that, Wei Wuxian opened up to him like a blossoming flower, and he reached for Jiang Cheng first, every single time. Come with me, A-Cheng! I found the coolest thing! Being asked, being dragged along, he found himself soon becoming the unwitting accomplice to Wei Wuxian's plans. The first time they were punished was a very confusing moment for both of them, but mostly him.Wei Wuxian receded back into his shell, disappearing like a hermit crab into the trembling skin of a terrified child. Jiang Cheng had simply been confused because until then his punishments were a sharp word or sometimes a smack from his mother (which usually made him cry), and a softer word from his father (which would make him sulk), and that would be it.Being punished with Wei Wuxian though... the stakes were always higher, though he was unaware of it at the time. They would be made to kneel on the rocky ground by the river, or made to clean all the pots in the kitchen, or made to train till their limbs resembled overcooked noodles.The punishments were harsher, and he didn't understand why. Shixiong, we're just having fun aren't we? Why is A-Niang so angry? Did Wei Wuxian know back then, the reason why his mother hated him so much? He would either curl an arm around his shoulders, or bandage his knees, or wipe his dirty face, and then pinch Jiang Cheng's nose until he squeaked. Don't worry. Big brother will take care of it. That was really cool though, right?It was.It was always fun. It had been a glorious, golden time, when there was nothing he wanted more than to continue basking in Wei Wuxian's light and run all over Lotus Pier with him, leaving mayhem in their wake. ...Well, that went majorly off-track.So, he didn't really do anything then, did he? They just sort of... grew close due to the circumstances, he supposes. They never would have been friends otherwise (or become brothers) in any other situation. When Jiang Cheng pushed, Wei Wuxian pushed back. Then, for whatever reason, Wei Wuxian saw something in him and proceeded to come after him like a dog after a bone.How ironic.How can he replicate this with Lan Xichen, who is neither a child nor bound to him through circumstance?He has to somehow... make the first move. Make an effort this time, to reach out to Lan Xichen and try to tell him—It's so much better to not be alone anymore, a young Wei Wuxian had whispered to him the night after a stray dog had scared him half to death. Mid-way through their mischief-of-the-day, the dog came and Wei Wuxian turned into a rock. Paralysed with fear, it was left to Jiang Cheng (all sixty pounds and four foot two of him) to yell at the mangy pup go away! Stay away from him! I'll beat you up! Don't touch him! and drag his brother, and then carry him (semi-conscious) all the way back home. Sharing a room was an advantage then, because it took him crawling into Wei Wuxian's bed and babbling on about anything that flew into his head, for the ice around him to finally crack. I'll keep them away from you, he'd promised him, half-crushed in his brother's suffocating embrace. You're no use to me like this, all scared. Climb a tree next time and I'll scare them off. Wei Wuxian had cried and clung to him. I was all alone, he'd sobbed. So lonely until you came. Thank you, A-Cheng.That's what he's got to do. Somehow.Jiang Cheng glares at the ceiling with itchy eyes. Sleep hates him. The feeling is entirely mutual.He kicks off the blankets and crawls over to the writing desk, only half-aware of what he's about to do. The room is too dark to see properly, and he doesn't want to wake Jin Ling. The kid has a nasty habit of throwing the worst, screeching tantrums when his sleep is disturbed. Jiang Cheng casts his eyes around, and then grumbles to himself as he stumbles over to the window. Luckily for him, the moon is bright enough to see by, so he puts brush to paper and begins to write.Tomorrow, he'll give this to a disciple to pass on. It's the only way he can think of right now, to work around the seclusion. A pathetic attempt really, but what else can he do? As he writes, his thoughts seep into the page and the words spin around his head. As the line between writing and thinking blurs, he abruptly recalls Wei Wuxian's face when he asked about Lan Xichen, and his wedding invitation. How did you know yours was written by Brother?
Who do you think I write to about sect matters? Of course I can recognise his handwriting!
The words don't take too long.It is a short note rather than a letter, but Jiang Cheng signs his name and blows on the ink to dry.As the black lines seep into the paper, he turns a critical eye on his penmanship, and wonders to himself: would Lan Xichen recognise him from the way he writes? Bold lines. The brush dragged quickly around the page, the ink too dry in some places, and lingering too long in others. He writes as he thinks, the words coming to him in fits and bursts. This is not like the carefully planned documents he usually writes, and it shows.Nothing like the elegant, swirling script of Lan Xichen either.But hopefully, it will do. He must have passed out. Sometime after folding up the note he must have made his way to the bed because he wakes up in it and it is already noon. "Fuck.""Good morning to you too.""Morning?" He exclaims, pointing at the window. "That isn't morning! Why didn't you wake me?"The brat scoffs, and passes him a tray. As he watches him shovel the bowl of (far-less-tasty-now-he's-fully-awake) food into his mouth and swig tea in between each bite, he clicks his tongue. "Slow down. You're going to choke."Jiang Cheng gulps a few times, then levels his nephew with his best glower. "I shouldn't even be here right now—""Uncle," Jin Ling says, once again calling on the spirit of his mother in that especially dry tone. No one would expect it, for a young, sweet lady like Jian Yanli to be just as capable of cutting someone down with her voice, but god. That voice is what Jiang Cheng aspires to be. Jiang Cheng's mouth snaps shut. It was a mistake to make him aware of that. See what happens when you give a child all the power?"Uncle, the dead could have risen, and you'd be still fast asleep. We tried everything. Water, pinching your nose, Jingyi even tried playing some music but you wouldn't wake up! We had to get Uncle Wei to make sure that your spirit hadn't left your body in the night—""Alright, alright. I get it—wait, you what?""You have a broken foot, he said. So how—how exactly do you propose you'll be able to get home when you're like this?"Jiang Cheng huffs, but reluctantly admits defeat before the scolding can drag on any longer. Seeing this as a sound victory, Jin Ling tips his nose up and nods proudly. He quietly finishes the food, ignoring the glow around Jin Ling. The brat can preen all he likes. Just makes him look stupid.Once he's done eating, he lifts his leg to test out the bandaged foot—"Stop that!"A glare. "Try to remember who is the uncle and who is the nephew here.""I'll try," Jin Ling agrees cheekily, but grabs Jiang Cheng's ankle and sets it back on the bed. "As long as you try to remember who has two good feet and who has only one.""Watch it!""By the way, your message has been sent to Zewu-Jun." Jin Ling's smile lessens, but his eyes remain warm and bright. "Sorry Uncle, but at first we didn't know who it was for. I had a check to make sure you didn't want it to be sent to Yunmeng. You... You did well. Good job.""You read the note?!""I had to! Weren't you listening? We didn't know who it was for. If you had remembered to address it—"Jiang Cheng scrapes through his cottony head, trying to remember what he wrote. What's with his poor memory lately?First, he cannot remember what he said to Lan Wangji. Now, he only vaguely remembers what he wanted to write. Something along the lines of: sorry you're stuck in seclusion, that really sucks, also sorry I shouted at your brother, I was hoping to speak to you instead of him anyways—fuck.Knowing him, he probably made it seem like he was blaming the Lan brothers for not being accommodating to him. He probably even made it sound like he was pissed at Lan Xichen for not coming to see him. Because writing letters when you're brain is barely functioning is never a good idea. No brain filters. Nothing.Fuck fuck fuck, what a mess—But did Jin Ling say he did well? "What did it say?""...you don't remember?""What did it say?" "You wrote it!" Jin Ling frowns, but crosses his arms to think. "I don't know. You just, sort of... apologised, but not really?" His frown deepens. Clearly did well doesn't mean wrote coherently. "It was really short, but you basically said you'd like to speak to him, I think. It sounded nice."When, in all of Jiang Cheng's time living on the Earth, has he ever, ever sounded 'nice'?What does that even mean?!"I think he sent you a reply," Jin Ling says, snapping Jiang Cheng out of his mounting panic. He hands him a small folded piece of paper. "Here. I didn't read it this time. Honest."Jiang Cheng flips it open and holds his breath as he reads.
[Sect Leader Jiang,
It's a pleasure to hear from you. I sincerely apologise for not coming to meet with you in person.
Your concern for my well-being is appreciated, though unnecessary. I am doing well in the care of my family. I am aware that you have come to ask about something important. Should you have any need of any assistance during your stay, my uncle will be returning soon and will be able to speak with you.
If you cannot wait for him and must leave before he returns, please do not hesitate to reach me via letter. I will try my best to see to it that your needs are met.
Please enjoy your stay at Cloud Recesses. Kind regards,
Lan Xichen.]
He stares at the words. Reads them twice. Then a third time. He isn't sure what to make of it. When politeness and manners take up so much of the page, there's not much else left to read from the rest. From what he can see, and what he can discern... Lan Xichen is probably somewhat aware of what went down between him and his brother. He's emphasised that he's 'doing well in the care of [his] family', which basically sounds like he's taking Lan Wangji's side in telling him to fuck off.The rest just means that... that he doesn't want to speak to him. Reach me via letter. Well... Jiang Cheng sighs.Small steps. As they say: the person who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones. Maybe all hope is not lost. If Jin Ling thinks he did well, surely that means... eh, Jin Ling has friends. He can probably see something here that Jiang Cheng cannot. Though he doesn't know what Lan Xichen's letter says... and he never will. "Well?" his nephew chirps, cocking his head like a bird. "Is he okay?"He lets out another long breath. "He is, but...""But?"Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng asks to be brought another sheet of paper and some ink. This time, he gives himself all the time he needs to plan out what he wants to say (which ends up being no more than five minutes). Jin Ling watches him at the start, but soon loses interest and goes to gather the plates. He watches him from time to time, then turns to the page and writes.This time it's longer. He clumsily starts with making clear that the letter is not urgent, nor is his reason for being in Gusu for anything 'important'. He just came to congratulate their brothers' wedding. Jiang Cheng hesitates, but adds second wedding, and wonders if Lan Xichen knows. Should he have revealed this to him? Surely if he's been told, then Lan Xichen would know that they're married as well?It's sometimes little details like this in Jin Ling's letters to him that reminds him that he trusts him implicitly. Secrets, or half-secrets that have not been explicitly stated as being off-limits, so Jin Ling will let slip them in writing to him, unconcerned with the information being spread, knowing those secrets will be safe with him. Though they are not friends (yet), and even if he had no intentions of befriending him, Jiang Cheng isn't worried about sharing details with Lan Xichen, because, well, because he's Lan Xichen—But regarding his brother... regarding their brothers, it is different. If this is a mistake he's making, there will be no way of taking it back later. The stakes are high, but Jiang Cheng realised a long time ago, he's a stick-in-the-mud for most things, but at heart, he's a gambler. His pulse has ratcheted up to a galloping pace.Jiang Cheng twists the brush in the ink till it is fully saturated. He leaves in the detail and carries on. He skirts around the thing between him and Lan Wangji, and adds that since he's in no rush, he will wait for Lan Qiren then—but it would be helpful to get your opinion on the matter too, so if you don't mind talking about it through letters, that would be appreciated. Regards, Jiang Wanyin. Fuck. Kind regards. Why couldn't he have written kind regards. Idiot.Jiang Cheng hisses, which makes Jin Ling spin around in alarm. "Uncle?""Nothing," he snarls, pressing another piece of paper to the letter and folding it. He has no patience to wait for it to dry this time. "Here. Take it."Jin Ling hums, and nods. "I'm not your messenger though.""Fine," Jiang Cheng growls, twisting around to get off the bed—"No! I'm going, I'm going!" Jin Ling exclaims, diving across the room in a whirl of gold and white. "Don't get out of bed! I'll be back soon!" He spins around at the door, pointing at him. "Rest that foot!"Jiang Cheng smirks as he watches him go.But then lies back on the bed, folds his hands on his stomach....And panics. Seclusion isn't all about the place or the company (or lack, thereof) you keep, as people tend to think. It is more your frame of mind that matters. Confining your world to a smaller space is just a way of physically narrowing your view to a needlepoint, to then be able to unstitch yourself from the fabric of the world and be liberated from it. That is the theory behind it, at least. Some people swear by it. They say that no other method has been found to be better for attaining enlightenment.But Lan Wangji disagrees.Because he has watched his brother meditate, and knows that behind those closed eyes is a mind awhirl with colours. The world opens at his touch, and the conversation that follows between them falls upon him like summer rain. That's the way he described it to him before.It felt like home, he'd laughed, spreading out his hands, all that rain, only warmer! It came so easily to him, almost instinctively—the way he'd slip so easily through the barriers most people would struggle with for years.When Lan Wangji was younger (and he hadn't yet memorised all three-thousand of the rules), he'd clap his hands around his brother's head, or press his fingers to his eyelids, or even stretch his mouth into a smile. Nothing he did would be able to call him back before he was ready, and when he returned he'd turn to him with a real smile, and tell him that it wasn't nice to distract someone when they're trying to meditate.It became a game between them at one point (before Lan Wangji decided he wanted to try it for himself). He would clap a rhythm, or sometimes hum a tune. When Lan Huan returned he'd tap the same beat on his chest or whistle the song back at him (sometimes with embellishments). I was here and there, he'd tell him, pulling him onto his lap. I was all around you, A-Zhan. I was your breath and thought. Come. Let me show you. Put your hands on mine. The first time he coached him through it, Lan Zhan followed him step-for-step (though a little voice in his head warned him, this isn't how Uncle does it), and initially he was terrified when the walls of his mind came crashing down. But then he saw, for the first time ever, an endless sea of golden opportunity. When he bathed in the glittering waters, his core also took the time to drink deeply from it.Cultivation, which had mostly been reading textbooks and learning sword techniques to him, quickly became exploring the universe sat by his brother's side.Uncle was initially skeptical when they showed him what they'd discovered, but even he couldn't deny that their cores had improved significantly from using it. Lan Huan was adamant that it was an easier way, and maybe those who are having trouble with meditation can be taught it, he'd suggested, drumming his finger on the desk-top. If I develop it enough, it could even become an option for those struggling to find peace. He'd smiled then, when Lan Zhan drummed an answer back to him. I'm sure A-Zhan will be able to help me.That was where Uncle put his foot down. Do you think cultivation methods fall from the skies? (This one did though, A-Zhan mentioned to his brother later, who laughed at him and poked his nose.)It's not meant to be easy. If it was easy, then heaven would be open to all kinds of unscrupulous characters. Unacceptable! He'd eyed his nephews' disappointment faces and sighed, stroking his beard. If you really want to work on this method, you must be willing to pledge your life to its success. You must perfect it until it is foolproof. Otherwise, if some poor fool were to attempt your path and found themselves lost, that would be on you. You would be responsible for their suffering. Do you understand? Yes Uncle, Lan Huan had said, eyes lighting up. I do.The brothers worked on it together whenever they were able to, and it was one of the secrets behind why their cores were so radiant compared to their peers. When they sometimes met with other students of an equally high level, Lan Zhan would wonder what path they were using to advance their cultivation. There are probably countless different paths, Lan Huan had admitted to him, but the trick is in finding one that works. He'd paused, and then added, a map would probably help.(There are maps that exist, if those maps are called scriptures, and those scriptures were written so long ago, that no one can really confirm whether they are correct or not.)Lan Zhan knew back then, that their way was not the Lan way (or at least it wasn't the Lan way yet), but Lan Zhan... after thinking about maps and paths and methods, he began to wonder about the special place they'd found. When he compared from method to method, he began to realise that their path led to a brighter place than all the rest. When he tried the traditional methods, there was no sparkling sea. There was no summer rain. Theirs was a secret pocket of the universe that no one seemed to know about.That can't be right, his brother had argued with a frown. They must all lead to the same place. That's how cultivation works. Like rivers flowing to the sea. If not... where do we go each time, then? Where is it leading us to?It only occurred to him then, that Lan Huan's way was his only way he knew. He'd assumed his brother had learnt, like him, from the textbooks and their Uncle how to meditate, and then found this secret path.When his brother explained that he had the same lessons as him, but this was always where his meditation led him... Lan Wangji couldn't understand it. How could someone as well-read as his brother not know what he was doing? Wasn't it dangerous then? Uncle's words rang in his ears: if some poor fool were to attempt your path and found themselves lost, that would be on you. Was he that fool? But A-Huan wouldn't risk his safety. He asked his brother.Does it feel dangerous to you? he'd asked jokingly, but he sobered up when Lan Wangji stopped to consider it. I'm not scared, A-Zhan. If this is the path that I have found, then it's the path meant for me.For years they forgot about it, and life continued, and things happened. From time to time he thought about it though, and of all those times the one that stood out as the most memorable, was when he met the love of his life. Wei Ying—who was well-known for his talent for cultivation. Whose golden core blazed from his eyes and rang in his laugh and shone in his smile. Who was never constrained to one single path, but enjoyed hopping from one to another, sometimes tripping but always running. Lan Zhan was so shocked to come across such a person, that he didn't know what to make of him, but his brother seemed charmed (and intrigued) by his eccentric ways. If it works, it works, he'd shrugged, laughing when Lan Wangji pulled a face (which really meant he only sort-of frowned). His brother always seemed to find his confusion about people endlessly amusing. Do you really not like him? he'd asked, though the question was purely rhetorical.In hindsight, Lan Wangji is pretty sure his brother knew how much he didn't 'not like' him, even back then. His ways are unorthodox, but he is like me, I suppose. Do you not like me, Wangji? he'd teased. He'd retreated to sulk, recognising a solid defeat.Again, he forgot about the path for years and years, but then more things happened. Bad things. The worst things. His heart was broken, his back lashed to ribbons. Thirteen long years, where he rarely bothered to meditate. Instead, he searched for a lost soul. The fool who he'd loved, who had lost his way.Then he came back. He came back. He wore a different skin, but Lan Wangji didn't care. Him being back was all that mattered, and that he radiated with the same light as he'd had before.And he married the fool, and now he's going to marry him again, and when it comes out, the whole world may shun them and he won't care.Because his brother will stand by him, even if he disagrees (which he doesn't think he does, anymore? Lan Xichen seems to have returned to being charmed by Wei Ying, which Lan Wangji isn't surprised by in the slightest). All is good in his life, except—Except, of course, that...Now his brother is the one who is suffering. His heart broken, his body failing. His spirit is wandering, and Lan Wangji is determined to find it.It isn't lost, that much he knows. In the end though, bringing it back isn't something he can achieve. That will depend on whether Lan Xichen is strong enough to retrieve it himself, and also on whatever fate has been decided for him.When he spoke to their uncle in a fit of desperation, again—he shut him down. You are not to go there, Wangji, he'd snapped, his face as pale as bone. At that moment, his uncle looked so old and tired that he couldn't argue. If he is to return to us, he will have to do it himself. Harsh and cruel, but unfortunately true. The soul must return by its own will. Lan Xichen alone must choose his own salvation.A year ago, the three of them stood on the doorstep to the hanshi. You must do this properly if you are to attempt it at all, Uncle had said, his usual stern voice reduced to a hoarse whisper. A-Huan, please. You mustn't go too far. Just find yourself and then come home, he'd begged.Then the hanshi shut its door, and all fell quiet.He has never stopped in all this time. He continues to meditate the way his brother has taught him: reaching up towards the clouded heavens to pluck wisdom from the stars.Because everything good he has ever learnt, he has learnt from him. How to read and write and wield a sword, yes, but also how to think and feel and make a choice. To say that he adores his brother would be a disservice, because it is so much more than that. He believes in him, in everything. He trusts him and looks to him for courage in his heart.If there is one thing Lan Wangji knows, it is that the world is a better place with his brother in it, and if it were to lose him—If they were to—His eyes fly open, a gasp caught in his throat. His hand hovers before him, stretched outwards. The air is so thick with the smell of incense that his throat almost burns to breathe it in. The jingshi isn't as empty as it would have been a year ago. He is not alone anymore.His husband (and it is still thrilling to say that—his husband, his husband) is sprawled out on the floor, various books and scraps of paper littered around him. He is inventing something, intent on improving some sort of detection device, he thinks. He is drawing something too. A diagram which seems to involve a lot of stick figures crowding around a... a donkey (oh no, he thinks, not the donkey again).The room is quiet, save for the scratch of bamboo nib on paper, and the hums and hahs that Wei Ying lets every now and again (though he is trying to be quiet, really). Lan Wangji watches him work, not breathing until his lungs start to protest. Then he blows the smoke away and sucks in a breath of fresh air. He waits until Wei Ying raises his head, and those twinkling eyes flick up over him a few times. Slowly, his lips part in a smile."You look like you've been on quite the adventure, Lan Zhan," he says, voice hushed but shivery with excitement. He's not even trying to hide his curiosity. He flips onto his stomach, then his side, then his back. The smile widens. "Have you returned yet?"He has, but he's returned empty-handed. Lan Zhan swallows, something clicking in his dry throat. Wei Ying lifts his head, concern filling his gaze. Lan Zhan's hand snaps out again, but the motion gentles as he traces those lips with his thumb, urging that smile to stay. The way he presses into the touch soothes his heart, and Lan Zhan lets out a shuddering breath."Did it not help?"He shakes his head sadly. The smile is gone now, and Lan Zhan feels so cold. He's been thinking about it again: the path. Going back to that question that they asked themselves so long ago. Where do we go each time, then? Where is it leading us to? Once, when he went to visit his brother and asked him about his progress, he told him that he was trying to do as Uncle told him. Sticking to the safer routes. Lan Zhan then pointed out that if what he told him was true (about there being no other way for him), then no matter how he tries, he has always and therefore will always use his own path by default. He hadn't needed to ask to know the reason for Lan Xichen's lack of progress was because he simply wasn't used to the old methods—which therefore confirmed what he'd said.He told him to ignore Uncle, do it his own way. Whatever way made sense to him. If it works, it works. Just get better. But then Lan Xichen confessed that the path was lost to him entirely—beyond his reach, what seemed to be an imperishable thought.I need to try this, Wangji, Lan Xichen had replied. Even if it's difficult for me, it's all I've got. The only option I have left. His voice was nothing like the vibrant song it used to be. Soft, but rather from exhaustion, than kindness. I must be careful now. Maybe... maybe my way wasn't the right way after all. Maybe Uncle was right. He'd taken his hands then, just like he had the first time when he showed his little brother his way. You must be careful too. No more wandering. Wide eyes implored him, glassy and bloodshot. Promise me.Wei Ying rolls back onto his knees and knee-walks over to sit by him. He looks ridiculous doing so, but Lan Zhan immediately moves to make space for him.He claps his hands on his knees, eyes bright. "So, what happened?"Of course, he has told Wei Ying all about it.In return, he has been told by that Wei Ying that he would show him his own methods if they were worth showing, but (unsurprisingly) they aren't very impressive because to be quite honest, he finds meditation boring as fuck and rarely bothered much time working on it. He knew the basic forms enough to cultivate his mind, but once it was tended to, he left it be. To learn that Wei Ying's path was one that formed itself beneath his feet was a revelation. He told Lan Zhan that it was like wherever he walked, there was a path (and this suited him well because he hated staying still).Like the buddha! he'd exclaimed, as Lan Zhan muttered blasphemy under his breath, but that was how he cultivated. It was as simple as that for him.Lan Zhan closes his eyes but opens them quickly. The darkness is too much to bear right now. The answers too far from his reach. He wants to ask his brother what it means. Where he's gone wrong. But asking him will reveal that he's broken his promise.(He'll break all the rules and forget his promises if it'll keep his loved ones safe. None of it matters. He knows what is important now.)"Would it help to talk about it?"He would if he could, but sometimes... it's not that words are difficult, but that he cannot find the right ones to satisfy himself. He's been told that when he learnt to talk, it was much later than other children, but he spoke perfectly. It was as if he needed his first words to be the exact right ones, and that's how he's continued in life: precise about everything. His words must match his meaning, so if he were to try and describe his thoughts right now, he knows he would only frustrate himself.Though Wei Ying is almost as good as his brother at reading him, they aren't quite there yet (but they will be, eventually).Annoyed, he casts his eyes around, hoping to find a solution somewhere. Anywhere."It's okay! Not to worry, not to worry," Wei Ying babbles, generous as ever. He tilts his head the other way. "We can work through this. Maybe... hm, maybe I can think of something else..."There is nothing.Lan Zhan doesn't say this, of course. He watches his husband purse his lips and stare into the middle-distance, no doubt mapping out a dozen options for their next move.It is hopeless, he wants to say. There is nothing. I've searched everywhere. Maybe it's me. Instead, he reaches for Wei Ying's hand, and receives it immediately. Wei Ying lets him pull him closer, his lips twitching as he's moved around, but his focus still on trying a way to help him. The fact that he chose to stay in the jingshi with him instead of gallivanting outdoors with the juniors is... Lan Zhan clenches his jaw against a sudden wave of emotion. Sometimes the strength of his feelings is too much. How he came to deserve this man, to be worthy of his love, he'll never know.He came back, he tells himself constantly, he's here with me. If he doesn't, he's scared that he'll start to think that he's imagined everything.Finally, after it seems that he has exhausted all options, Wei Ying turns to him with wide, desperate eyes."Isn't there anything I can do to help?"Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, unable to refuse him. How can Wei Ying think he is not enough? Wei Ying squeezes his hand, then moves up to hold onto his shoulder. This is enough, he tries to say, by letting him cup his cheek. You are helping. Just by being here, with me. "You were gone a long time," Wei Ying says softly, stroking the side of his face. "I was worried."They have been here since yesterday, since Wei Ying took him by the hand and led him back to the jingshi, using his knowledge of the emptier back-passages to get them there as fast as possible. I know this place now almost as well as I used to know Lotus Pier! he'd laughed, pulling a nearly catatonic Lan Zhan along behind him. When the weather's better we should go there. I'll show you all the best ways to get around without being seen! He'd been in too much in a daze to understand what Wei Ying was saying but clung nevertheless to the sound of his voice. The moment they were inside, Wei Ying pushed him down onto the floor and went to light the incense.This was not something they did a lot (especially after that time with the incense, now they're much more careful with it). As mentioned before, meditation was probably one of Wei Ying's least favourite methods of cultivation, and he often whined to Lan Zhan there were so many more interesting pastimes, but yesterday he pressed his hands to Lan Zhan's shoulders and held him still. Lan Zhan, close your eyes. Breathe. That's right. You're alright, I'm here. The smoke filled his lungs, and then Lan Zhan lost himself to time and space.And now he's back, and no wiser for all his efforts."I'm here," he announces, drawing a smile from his Wei Ying. "Yes you are," he replies, grinning. "I'm here too."The relief is heady. His mind spins with it. Wei Ying watches him, leaning into his space even further till his face is all that he can see. "What do you need?" he asks, but Lan Zhan doesn't know. Wei Ying hums and tugs him down. "Come here then. Let me hold you."Lan Zhan does, but as he buries his face in his husband's chest, those awful words stab deep into his heart.It's as if they’ve decided to leave him to rot—Have they? Has he? Wei Ying scoffed when he asked the last time, replying that Jiang Cheng didn't know anything. He's not seen the hours (which probably add up to days, if not weeks) Lan Zhan has spent trying to reach his brother. He has no idea of the magnitude of what they're facing (neither do they, but at least they know it's serious), so his words are meaningless (or bullshit, to be more precise). Even as Lan Zhan soaked this in, and comforted himself by telling himself Wei Ying was right, he couldn't ignore the fact that—He can't ignore Wei Ying. He's never been able to ignore Wei Ying. It's as if it's physically impossible for him to exist and Lan Zhan to not notice that he's there.And the thing is, ever since they started this long, crazy adventure of theirs, they have been together.Lan Zhan can't ignore the fact that as a result of it, he has changed. Because loving Wei Ying has changed everything. Has split the world open and given him a second home. He used to belong only to Gusu Lan, with all its thousands of rules and steadfastness. To the uncle he honours, the son he cherishes and the brother he adores. But now he also belongs to this whirlwind of a man too, and... everything has changed.The order of things. The way he counts his blessings, the way he spends his days, the things he reaches for when he is feeling lost. It is not always his brother now, he looks to for inspiration or courage. When Wei Ying came back—His priorities changed instantly to factor him in.And, could it be... is it possible that... no, no. Surely the simple act of loving Wei Ying cannot diminish the love he holds for the rest of his family. It cannot be an either-or situation. Surely he hasn't prioritised him over everyone else either. That cannot be true. Absolutely not. He searches himself and comes to the conclusion that no, that's not what he's done. That's not even how love works. The more people you love, the more love you have to give, A-Zhan, his mother once told him once, and so it goes round and round. He'd been asking why she and his father had chosen to have a second son. After years of being compared to his esteemed elder brother, he'd begun to wonder what the point was of him being there when their sect was already blessed to have Lan Xichen. Not jealous—never jealous, just sincerely baffled by his own existence.Two blessings, his father had said in answer, his raspy voice like a whisper on the wind, our love grows greater still. "What are you thinking about?" Wei Ying asks, stroking a line exactly where a whip-mark lies. By now he knows all his scars by heart. Lan Zhan hums, turning to be able to breathe a little. The incense lingers but is not as suffocating as before. He wonders how Wei Ying has been able to stand to breathe it in all this time when he's often said the smell was far too strong for him (or his new body, at least).As his eyes move slowly around the room, it occurs to him that with the two of them often travelling, they have gathered a lot of knick-knacks. Useless things that do nothing but gather dust. They will have to go through them at some point and sift out what can be put into storage. Nothing will be thrown away, he swears to himself, even as he catches sight of an ugly, misshapen clay figure that Wei Ying wanted just because. Even that hideous creature will remain. "Tidy up," he mutters, slowly dragging himself up off his husband's lap. "Ah?" Wei Ying goes, springing up like a daisy. "You want to tidy—""Not now, but..." he gestures around at the clutter. "Later."Wei Ying nods enthusiastically. He's never liked tidying up. Lan Zhan gazes fondly at him as he yawns, then stretches, then yawns again. "Tired?"Wei Ying shakes his head. "I've only been up for an hour!" The sun is high in the sky. Lan Zhan raises his brows at the window. "I know, I know, it's late! But I wanted to stay up with you, so I ended up not going to sleep until very late!"His heart melts instantly, but then—concern. "No, no! Don't worry about me, Lan Zhan. I plan on doing a lot of napping today," he says, flapping a hand at him. Leaning back on his hands, another yawn escapes him. "Though a walk would be nice first. What do you say?"Lan Zhan grunts in agreement. He has been walking long distances across the spiritual plane, but now his actual feet and legs are aching to move. They sweep up the burnt incense ashes and Wei Ying 'carefully' shoves his pile of research into a corner."What?" he demands when Lan Zhan eyes the pile with interest. "Oh no. No, no, no you don't. Don't touch this, Lan Zhan! I mean it. I need everything exactly as it is. Do. Not. Move. It."He grunts again, but allows it. However much he itches to at least stack the papers so their edges are neatly aligned (not rearranging the order of them or anything), he will respect his husband's wishes, because the pleasure he gets from watching Wei Ying filling his home with his things is far too precious.Again, he looks around the jingshi, this time admiring the clutter everywhere and remembering how it all got there.But after a while, after the warmth of those memories has passed, it dawns on Lan Zhan how small the room is.The jingshi and the hanshi were built exactly the same size. Twin rooms for the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan.While Lan Zhan has never been a hoarder (until recently), Lan Xichen collects a lot of things.Oh no, this is staying, he'd insisted when Lan Zhan dug up one of his first-ever ink paintings. An unidentifiable shape. Hideous. Hugging the faded, yellowed, tattered thing to his chest, he'd planted his feet apart and waited till Lan Zhan stopped trying to grab it. These are precious to me, he said, carefully tucking it back with a couple of other scribbles, between the pages of an old book. Frowning at the overstuffed shelf, he'd sighed. I only wish I had more room to keep them—Room. The room is so small. Too small, now that he thinks about it.Looking around, he doesn't know how he's never seen it before. Though Gusu Lan loves their Jades, they aren't treated like princes. Out of nowhere, Lan Zhan tries to picture himself stuck in here for a year. He fails. He cannot imagine it. Even though he always used to be most comfortable at home, that also changed when Wei Ying returned, and now he enjoys travelling the world with him. The freedom of going everywhere, but never having to leave home.He cannot imagine being confined to such a small space."Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying appears at his elbow, and something—his expression must be frightful to warrant Wei Ying clutching his arm. "Lan Zhan? What's wrong?"Some people seclude themselves to the wilderness for years, so to think that imprisonment is a requirement for seclusion is wrong. Seclusion isn't all about the place. It's not about being alone. People think that those two things are what matters, but the heart of what matters is...Oh. Have they been doing this all wrong?But Lan Xichen said—He told them it was what he wanted. That he needed solitude to find himself. And he... Lan Zhan believed him, and believes in him still, but—
You should know better than to leave a grieving man alone.
A flare of fire bursts across his vision. A cloud of smoke, then he is lost to the smell of burning paper, scorched flesh and blood.
[The library is aflame, and everyone is trying to drag him away from it but he can't, he can't leave. The library is the Lans' only treasure. Their knowledge is more than ancient texts, but also family accounts. Years and years of precious works, the lives of people held between their pages. This holds everything their sect is built on. He will not move aside. He will not.
"A-Zhan!"
He turns, then stumbles on his only good leg. The other screams, and pain shoots all the way up his spine.
A blur of white flashes across the room.
"Leave it!" Lan Xichen shouts, tossing a qiankun pouch over his shoulder. "I have them. Let's go!"
He doesn't stop running. He grabs Lan Zhan by the collar and drags him out, moments before two beams split from the ceiling. With the support gone, the ceiling tears off in pieces and then collapses all at once. They don't stop to look. Even when his leg crumples beneath him, his brother hauls him over his shoulder and runs.
Then suddenly he is being thrown at Uncle and Lan Xichen keeps on running.
"Brother!"
"Don't," Uncle says, holding him back. "He must go. He will take them somewhere safe. A-Zhan—"
"Shifu!"
They turn. A couple of disciples are dragging a body behind them. He doesn't recognise who it is at first, but Uncle staggers back. Then a terrible sound comes from him, one that he has never heard before, and suddenly Lan Zhan knows.]
That was the last time he saw his father.Already they knew what the outcome would be, but Uncle insisted that they do all that they could for him. The clan was stunned to see him. They didn't know what to do.Qingheng-Jun had almost become a mythical figure to them by then, never being seen by anyone but his sons and brother. To see him in the flesh was horrifying, and even more devastating was when he refused his medicine after days of treatment, sending his portion to Lan Zhan instead. The bitterness of it was worse than the pain in his leg, and when the news came to him that his father had passed, Lan Zhan had wished—He'd wished—
Our love grows greater still.
"-an Zhan!" His head whips to the side. Wei Ying pulls him back around and swipes his thumbs under his eyes—oh, he's crying. Why is he crying? Why was he even remembering that horrible time? Lan Zhan claws his way back to his previous thought before that cursed memory stole him from the present.Brother—his brother, alone in the hanshi. Have they done the right thing, leaving him there?Uncle wept when father died. He almost did again when Lan Xichen announced he was going into seclusion. But for all the tears he's wept, Uncle is content with their choices. Both of them: father and son, forsaking the world. He believes seclusion will bring them back.But Uncle also believes that Wei Ying has stolen him off the path of righteousness because he doesn't understand that loving Wei Ying is his righteous path, and Lan Zhan—
—doesn't agree with anything he believes.
The world comes screeching to a halt.Oh, he thinks. That thought is shocking, but it's also... true. He doesn't, because... yes, Lan Zhan is his father's son through-and-through.He fell in love tragically, but his story has ended differently to his father's. His love is returned, and Wei Ying will always live freely and never be imprisoned in a house.That has to mean that Lan Huan is also not bound to the same fate as their father, but... maybe that can only be guaranteed if they try a different route. Uncle's definition of righteousness meant his own brother was left in seclusion for the rest of his days. His faith in that being the only solution for him meant that they never tried any other options, and thus Qingheng-Jun never managed to return.He never made it home. Lan Zhan wants his brother to come home. He doesn't want to have to visit him to see him. He doesn't want to wait for this to pass, only to find that he's waited too long, and end up having to see him carried out of the hanshi, lifeless and cold.This has to end. This has to stop, now.A year is long enough. A year is in fact, probably too much. But how was he to know? He trusted in the old ways, he trusted that his brother knew best, but this isn't working. It isn't working. Lan Zhan wants to stab himself because, in a way, Jiang Cheng was the slap in the face they all needed. It's so easy to keep telling yourself, just another year, just another year ——but then thirteen years pass and nothing's changed. He knows this."Wei Ying," he gasps, leaning into his hands, his sweet embrace. "Wei Ying.""Yes?" The man bounces on his toes, bracing himself on Lan Zhan's shoulders as he nearly vibrates with energy. "Yes? What is it? What is it?"When Wei Ying stops bouncing, his eyes are bright and clear, and that light—that inner light. They need to find it again. To give it back to his brother."Yes! Yes!" Wei Ying punches the air. Did he say that aloud? "It's about goddamn time! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, listen," he says, grabbing him suddenly. "I promise you. We're going to save your brother. Between you and me, we can do it! I know we can!"His heart pounds, and yet it's hope that fills him now. Even as he cries, he's relieved.Warm, wet tears, falling on his cheeks. Like summer rain.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.
Lan Xichen doesn't know how to read this. (Well, he knows how to read it, obviously. But he doesn't know how to read it, if that makes any sense.)'It' being another letter from Jiang Cheng, albeit this one is quite different from the last. The thing is, it's so different from their formal correspondence that he doesn't know what to think. Learning that the Jiang Cheng he knows is also like this on paper: clumsy and awkward, his thoughts tumbling one after the other... it's like discovering he wears false teeth!The funny thing is that despite his bumbling, the lines of his normal printed brushwork have been replaced with bold swirls of semi-cursive, and... it's fascinating.Studying his movements, he can deduce that he writes more with his arm than his wrist (which is rather unusual) as if his arm is hanging in the air with the brush held far away from the body. Despite this, his strokes show not a hint of shaking. For all the hesitance in tone, the level of control he has in the brush never wavers. Remarkable.Had he not known any better, he would have said this was someone else entirely. A daydreamer, whose mind has a tendency to run ahead of their brush. Nothing like the man he knows, who is strict in every manner of the word. Firm and unbending about nearly everything he does.It makes no sense.The casual mastery of this... this is something professional calligraphers could take years to attain, and it's been revealed to him in a scribbled note!(Wangji would spit blood if he saw this.)Pulling out a sheet of his brother's work to compare, Lan Xichen blinks, and yes—this is the same feeling he got when he heard Sizhui trying to play Wangji's guqin for the first time. That same trembling realisation that he is a witness to something truly special. Sizhui could barely see over a tabletop at the time. Tiny baby fingers stroked along the instrument with a reverence (a yearning), squeaking along the wood.When he plucked the string though, Wangji's head snapped up and the brothers' eyes met. In that instant, they both knew: this boy is gifted, just like that. It was the same for Lan Xichen on his first time trying the xiao, after which Uncle had leapt on him with an enthusiasm he'd never seen before. And when Wangji tried the guqin for himself, he was immediately put into lessons to try to polish that shining potential into a glittering gem.Even though Sizhui wasn't theirs by blood, even before he touched the guqin his hands were already those of a master because there are some things that exist that even years of diligent study cannot beat. An innate genius that lays dormant in a person, sometimes waiting for years to be discovered. Now he is filled with that same fluttering sensation, and it dawns on him that he has been reading this man's letters for years. Over a decade, in fact. To discover that this level of artistry was hiding inside him all this time is... is probably not something Jiang Cheng meant for him to know.(And yet, he cannot help but want to know more.)Lan Xichen spreads the paper out between his elbows and props his chin atop his hands. It's obvious that this was written without much thought beyond replying to Lan Xichen. The context itself is nothing special, and yet it's almost vibrant with that same absentmindedness. It's as if with each line he reads, he can see the patterns of Jiang Cheng's ideas blossoming into thought. As if Jiang Cheng has split open his skull and poured straight from the source, and— (It feels strangely invasive.Lan Xichen has only one other recipient whose sporadic notes read like a transcript caught mid-conversation: Wei Wuxian, brother to Jiang Cheng. He will scrawl down all manner of things, like and that's what I meant the other day, you see. If Teacher were to try lightening up once in a blue moon. He'd go on and on like that, ink flowing as fast as his mouth. Literally, a voice captured on paper. Is it a Yunmeng custom to write so literally, or is it only these two who do it, he wonders?)—and he finds it, well... he finds it baffling, to be honest.Whilst he's no stranger to Sect Leader Jiang's rigid to-the-point(-of-boring-him-to-death) way of thinking, this person has signed his name Jiang Wanyin, and the way he stumbles over himself is completely unfamiliar to him. He splits off on tangents constantly, the ink running dry in his haste to add in a gossipy passage about their brothers' (second) wedding, which according to him is 'totally unnecessary, but I already said I'll come, so I guess I'll have to now'. Then he goes on about the fact that he's in no hurry to leave, mostly because he's broken his foot (broken his foot? What on earth has he been up to? It's only been a day!) so the juniors refuse to let him leave, which he thinks is really embarrassing...It takes a moment for Lan Xichen to realise that he's smiling. Smiling at this man, whose mind is a mess, but whose writing is so lively. At the way he sees things, described with such artless sincerity. It's oddly charming.Then he scrubs his mouth, wiping the smile away. This is clearly not something he was supposed to see. It's certainly nothing like what he usually gets from trying to talk to Jiang Cheng. It's too honest, like getting a glimpse into the man's head. Less than half a page of rambling nonsense, and yet—And yet, Lan Xichen thinks, if it were half a page more, it's possible he'd have learnt far too much. He would have read all of it, he realises, and immediately feels ashamed.Was he drunk when he wrote this? Was he half-asleep when he decided to put brush to paper?Jiang Cheng only came to the Cloud Recesses yesterday, and yet he feels like he's learnt so much more about him in the past day than he has from ten years of knowing him, but none of it was intentional. Isn't it strange that from two short letters and a conversation he wasn't even supposed to overhear (which he still feels guilty for), his entire perception of Jiang Cheng has been changed so drastically?
[—would be helpful to get your opinion on the matter too, so if you don't mind talking about it through letters, that would be appreciated. Regards, Jiang Wanyin.]
There, see?Jiang Wanyin, not Sect Leader Jiang. He pauses for a moment, thinks back to his own letter, but he signed his Lan Xichen like he always does (much to Uncle's annoyance). He always signs his name instead of his title when writing to his peers. As he stares at the paper, the conversation he'd overheard comes back to him, followed by a patter of rain.
Maybe he needs a friend.
Is that what this is? Is Jiang Cheng trying to make friends with him? But that is so... bizarre. Jiang Cheng doesn't want or need friends. Often seems unreachable to anyone. Distinctly separate from others. Fiercely independent, with no interest in socialising more than he needs to.Jin Ling made a good point though. They have known each other for half their lives already, if not more than that. When put like that, a friendship between them doesn't sound unreasonable. And it's not that he doesn't want to be Jiang Cheng's friend, it's just that he... he wasn't expecting him to be the one to make the first step. (In fact, he wasn't expecting him to take any step, at all!) He should have known from the way he and Jin Ling were talking before, that the boy's suggestion wouldn't be so carelessly brushed aside.Before this though, there was no way to tell what sort of uncle Jiang Cheng was to Jin Ling. He was so private about his family that it was a surprise to learn that he could joke around with his nephew and rough-house with him, and compare him to his dearly beloved sister (and his less-beloved-but-grudgingly-respected brother-in-law) with a tenderness one might not expect.His commitment to raising Young Master Jin was well-known, but the fact that he actually enjoyed his company? That he listened to him, despite him being all of fifteen years old? It was...Well, it was something.Lan Xichen sighs, but his breath catches and throws him into another coughing fit.In hindsight, walking in the rain yesterday had not been his best idea. But the whole reason he did so was to deliver a... a note.A note in which he would have told Jiang Cheng (in his sweetest, most polite tone) that he basically better fucking not talk to his brother like that ever again, please and thank you....Lan Xichen turns to bow quickly towards the window, sending a silent thank you to the heavens for preventing him from doing something so immensely stupid. Clearly his time in seclusion has impaired his ability to think. He was never that impulsive before all of this. Running out into the rain to send something so stupid! As if Wangji needed him to speak on his behalf... More water sluices down the pane, distorting the world outside until it is a grey blur. For a moment he can almost imagine being out there immersed in all that water. The coldness sinking into his bones, his hand dragging across a rough stone wall. He'd gone out there wanting to defend his little brother from Jiang Cheng, and now he wants them to be friends. Both of them. All of them.Is it naive of him, to want everyone to get along?A little voice inside him says yes, but...But Lan Xichen has always liked making friends.Compared to Wangji, his warm, easy-going personality drew others to him like moths to a flame. It wasn't a Lan sect rule that you had to be overly friendly to anyone, but he just liked being around other people. Helping others, making them smile—it didn't make sense to him not to. Part of it, he accepted, was self-gratification, but the rest was the simple joy of sharing in someone else's happiness, or helping them where they couldn't succeed in something alone.Three years he'd lived before Wangji was born, and in that time he had to find other people to spend his time with. The thing is, he became good at it too. Charming others and making them feel at ease became part of how he was. He was overjoyed of course, when he finally got his baby brother, but even then the habit of reaching out to others never diminished. And when others reached out to him, he was even weaker to that.When he was introduced to Nie Mingjue and saw that the boy stood alone most of the time, set apart not only by his status but also his intimidating presence, all it took was smiling at him once for the boy to reach for him instantly. When Meng Yao was serving them tea at Hejian, his hands shaking as he passed it around, how could he do anything but accept the cup and smile? The looks he got for it were nothing compared to the way he felt when Meng Yao's eyes widened, and his smile finally became a little less forced—He trusts too easily. That's what Uncle has always said. Do you care nothing about your reputation? he'd bellowed one time, when he'd been drawn to a younger child who had been crying. He'd stupidly followed them to where they said they'd lost their parents, away from the crowds and eventually out of the village walls. That had been his first and last experience with attempted kidnapping, during which he learnt very quickly that not every cry for help was genuine.As the child ran away with their bag of sweets, they came at him ten-to-one. At the time he was not even ten years old, and though his skill in weapons was good for his age, his training was far from complete.The clan had descended on the marketplace to find him, causing such havoc that to this day, the event was still talked about by some of the elders in Caiyi Town (who also liked to embellish on the story with all sorts of absurd details). On the way back home, his uncle kept saying to him you need to harden your heart, A-Huan. Otherwise, others will take advantage of you, and one day you'll find yourself in trouble, with no one but yourself to blame.Harden your heart.Lan Xichen closes his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, but there is nothing to find beyond his eyelids. No response when he knocks on heaven's door. Nothing.He opens them again. Uncle was right. He chose the wrong path such a long time ago (both in this, and in his meditation), that now he has no idea how to find his way back. I am the fool who is lost, he thinks, shaking his head. I brought this on myself. The candle-flame shudders, dancing wildly at his elbow. Lan Xichen moves it further from the draught seeping in from the window, but the wind gusts harder against the glass, as if trying to claw its way in. He staggers in his hurry to close it more firmly, and the glass rattles violently in the frame as he slams it shut. On his way returning to the desk, his eyes land on the dragonfly in passing, and his stomach clenches.Every time he passes by it, he gets distracted by the shimmer of its iridescent wings. I'm sorry, he thinks each time, pausing to check that the poor thing really is dead. It's hard to tell with insects. He regrets not taking it with him when he went outside. It would have died there too, but at least it would have been outdoors where it belonged, not trapped indoors with him.This time he crawls over the bed to examine his little friend a bit closer. It seems rather morbid to be admiring the dead, but the dragonfly is exquisite. Even in death, it's long body jewelled in rich blue armour, and with wings so delicately crafted, like the finest needle-lace spun from spiders' webs.It was so easy to befriend such a beautiful creature. He took it in, gave it a place to rest, made sure it was nice and comfortable. And then did nothing but watch, as it slowly died—No.Stop thinking about it.Stop.
Get a hold of yourself, Xichen!
"Think of Uncle. Imagine him glaring at you," he mutters to himself, "Imagine if he were to see you right now, how disappointed he'd be."Lan Xichen's hand tightens on the windowsill, fingernails biting into the old wood.What is he even doing? Projecting onto a dead insect? Ridiculous! And what good does it do him anyway, to dwell on things best left in the past? Dirtying the memory of this innocent life, just because he can't help but see— See the two of them everywhere, in everything.Lan Xichen shifts sideways to lie on the bed. Three fingernails have broken. He idly picks at them till the cuticles bleed. It was so easy to befriend the dragonfly, because he was the only one who considered it a friend. It's easy to believe something when no one is around or willing to refute it.Harden your heart.Was that why?Was that the reason why he found it so easy to make friends? Was he actually making friends, or was it all imagined? Was any of what they'd had ever real?Sometimes the weight of all his doubts immobilises him, and the ghosts of his friends call out to him from all sides. Sometimes they take turns listing all the mistakes he's made that have led him to this point. One time Nie Mingjue declared, in a tone so cutting it almost made him weep, you were born, and that urge to weep instantly became laughter. Peals of hysterical giggles poured out from him as he laughed in agreement. Rightly so: he was born, how true.Whilst that was not when all of this started, in that moment he'd truly agreed with him—that had he never existed, none of this would have ever happened. Had he not been born... the thing is, he could only vaguely predict how his life might have turned out without him in it, because there were too many variables to consider. In the grand scheme of things, he knew that there was very little to support his existence, or rather the importance of him existing.In all likelihood, even without him in the picture, Jin Guangyao would have found another person to use. Someone equally as blind and trusting. Someone who couldn't see the wood for the trees when the forest was already burning.But Meng Yao... Meng Yao wouldn't have. He'd been different.(He wants to believe he'd been true. He needs to.)Why did he choose him though? Why did they become friends?He cannot say, and what's worse is he cannot bring himself to regret it, despite everything. Even now, looking back at all that happened, he knows that there was no way he'd have refused him. And the fact that he trusted him—that he even helped Jin Guangyao at times, if unknowingly... he doesn't regret that either.It's as they say, that: it is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them. He stands by that statement.Because they were his friends, his sworn brothers.That's the reason why even after a year, he cannot put them down. Cannot put away the memory of them, choosing instead to carry them around with him wherever he goes. Whether his qi is failing him now as it did Nie Mingjue, whether the weight of their ghosts clinging to his soul is what is dragging him down, he was as much a part of it as either of them. He could have stopped him. He should have. If this is his punishment for putting his trust in the wrong people, then he must take it.How did he say it to Sizhui? That's how it must be, when you're as close as brothers— Is he really supposed to never trust anyone ever again though? To harden his heart to a world where kindness is in short supply, and people are suffering?That sounds so lonely.That's not fair, Uncle, he wants to shout. I don't want to live like that. I want—The candle snuffs out.Lan Xichen blinks, but everything is darkness. What does he want?A chill breeze seeps cold air into the room through the crack in the window that years of wear have grown. It is a gentle touch, leaving goosebumps in its wake. As it flows across the room, there is a rustling and then—ah, the note. Lan Xichen slowly pulls it off his face. It's impossible to see right now, but he doesn't need to read the words to remember them.
[I said something terrible to your brother. I swear I will make it right.]
He wants to be like Jiang Cheng yesterday. To be able to shrug off his grief like an ill-fitting robe. Now he wants to be like him again. To be able to not only face his mistakes, but swear to rectify them.But how can he fix something that is over with? It's not like Lan Xichen can bring either of them back, and say—"I'm sorry."Do you think it will change anything? Lan Xichen flinches, but it is only a memory. Jiang Cheng's voice terse, his footsteps barely faltering. My apology won't matter to him anyway.
What about Zewu-Jun then? He's nice.
I can't imagine it's difficult being friends with someone like him.
Should he push Jiang Cheng away if he comes to him asking to be friends? But the man hardly ever... in fact, he never looks to anyone for companionship. If Lan Xichen were to refuse him, what would that do to him? (And if he accepts, and Jiang Cheng turns out to be another poor choice on his account, what will that do to him?) It's always a matter of choice, everything in life. Whether to take that step or not. Whether to risk getting hurt again or not. What does he want? Lan Xichen's throat aches and his eyelids are sore, but he swears that the only one crying today will be the heavens, not him.Suddenly he can only think—he clutches at the letter till the paper crumples in his hand. It is a simple thing he wants. To tell Jiang Cheng that he... that he, what? Thinks his handwriting is nice? Thinks he has potential? He tries to picture saying that to him, but cannot imagine what his response would be. A snort, perhaps? A scoff? Would he think he's mocking him? You write nice. Let's be friends. It might come off that way, but all Lan Xichen wants is to let him know that he has a gift. That he's seen something in him, and it is special. Sometimes if you don't point something out to someone, they'll never know. He never knew that—The footsteps only register to him when they are right outside the door. With the ground softened underfoot and the rain hammering the roof, he barely heard his approach at all."Brother?"Lan Wangji knocks but then lets himself inside. The umbrella is set against the door, and then he turns to face him. Even in the darkness, Lan Xichen can tell he is upset. His shoulders are stiff, and when he goes to light the fire he doesn't make a sound."How are you today, Wangji?" Lan Xichen asks, having to cough to clear his throat midway when speaking hurts. His brother hums, bending over to stoke the crumbling coals. It's cold in the hanshi, as befitting its name. He hadn't noticed it until now. A spurt of fire catches and limns the right side of his face in gold. Lan Xichen watches him stab the coals till they crack open, the red heart of them glowing and spitting embers up into the air. The studious way he is working means he's feeling anxious. Annoyed. He watches him until he remembers—ah, the letter. Jiang Cheng.There is another side to this story that he hasn't heard yet: his brother's."I heard what happened." Oh. He hadn't meant to say it like that. Wangji pauses, then turns to look at him directly. How did you hear? is written all over his face, swiftly followed by how much did you hear? Lan Xichen cringes internally. "Are you alright?" he asks, again unable to stop himself. Slowly, he pushes himself up to sitting. "What he said, you know it's not true, right?"His heart cracks when his little brother's eyes flick down. No, no, no, Wangji can't think that. Even Jiang Cheng doesn't believe what he said. Fuck misery and lethargy and all the weakness in his limbs, Lan Xichen refuses to sit by whilst his brother is blaming himself. Said brother turns at his movements, eyes widening when he sees what he's trying to do. It's not like he's attempting gymnastics, but his joints scream as he wrestles for control of his body."Brother, don't—""I'm fine."He's really not. It hurts to breathe, but he forces himself to sit up anyway.Wangji is already there, catching him around the shoulders to steady him as he starts coughing. He smiles when he remains holding him, even after he's stopped coughing. It's been a while since he buried the hatchet with Wei Wuxian for having indirectly caused his brother's suffering, so he can honestly say that he's grateful to him, if only for this—for the fact that his brother is far more affectionate with him now.Even though he's always been gentle with Sizhui, and has never pushed Lan Xichen away when he has tried holding him, sometimes it's also nice to be held. After their mother's passing, he became so... he retreated deep into himself for such a long time, that Lan Xichen almost forgot what his brother looked like smiling, laughing, pressing his hands to his dage's face and asking him so many questions. As he rests against his brother, the letter falls to the pillow. Wangji lets him catch his breath and then brushes back his sweaty hair."Tired?"He nods, but the motion—oh, why does everything make him cough? It burns in his chest, and there is a rattling sound when he breathes. Immediately, Wangji's hand presses against his forehead, then his cheeks. He flips over his hand and takes his pulse."Sick."Lan Xichen doesn't nod this time. Swallowing hurts, but his throat is so dry. He scrambles for purchase when Wangji moves to set him down, but he is as weak as a kitten. The blankets are pulled over him, and he turns to watch his brother walk to the cabinet on the other side of the room, forlorn. They keep medicine there now. A whole chest of herbs and spices set aside for him.He watches him for as long as he can, but then he blinks and the next thing he knows, Wangji is holding a mug of freshly brewed tea out to him. Did he fall asleep?"Ah, thank you." The silence is heavy whilst he drinks, but Lan Xichen is too thirsty to be bothered by it right then. The heat from the ginger soothes his chest, and when he is finished he feels distinctly awake. But also sleepy. The heat makes him sleepy too. He frowns, and eyes the empty mug suspiciously. Did his brother add something else to it?"Why are you sick?" Anyone else might think he was angry, but all he can hear is worry. He is worried and rather distressed. He shakes his head. "You're not going to like what I tell you.""..."Lan Xichen sighs but is careful to mind his breathing. "I went outside."Wangji stalks over to the window, then spins to face him as if to say outside? Outside where we're currently experiencing the heaviest rain in five years? That outside?"Yesterday, brother. Not today," he tries to soothe, but it's hardly reassuring. He grimaces at his brother's accusing look, lowering his eyes—but then hears Wangji walking back towards him, and stopping halfway. When he looks up... he's just staring at him, face pinched. Shoulders hunched. He drops his gaze abruptly, hands curling into fists. "Wan—""It's my fault." Lan Xichen gapes. "What?"Then his brother, his sweet baby brother, turns to face the other way. Oh, he really means it. Wangji walks over to the far side of the window, standing at the foot of the bed. Lan Xichen just stares at the distance between them, because what? "A-Zhan," he eventually calls, though it gets mangled into a croak. "Dìdì, what do you mean by that?"He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. "I didn't... I should have come. Yesterday."Oh, no—"That wasn't your fault. You were upset."Wangji's eyebrows pinch together, and he continues to glare at the wall.Lan Xichen twists around, looking desperately for something—anything to convince his brother not to fall into his usual habits of mental self-flagellation whenever he thinks he's failed him.This happens so often. Too often. And it's causing a rift to grow between them. Lan Xichen gets sick, or he feels weak, or he becomes melancholy, and for some reason or other it's always Wangji's fault, never his. He should have felt the imbalance in him, he should have done more of Lan Xichen's paperwork, he should have spent more time with him in the day. He should have he should have he should have. It's my fault, he'd said to him all those years ago when Lan Xichen was trying (and failing) to bandage his grazed knee. Little hands kept getting in the way as A-Zhan refused to hold still. Brother, I was looking ahead when we were running. I should have said about the tree. Even then, those small shoulders sought to ease his burdens.Suddenly, his eyes fall upon the windowsill, and to the left of where Wangji is standing—ha."It wasn't because of that anyway," he says quickly, waiting till his brother is listening to continue. "I made a friend yesterday. Look beside you," he adds when Wangji raises his eyebrows. "Right there. No. Left, I mean." As he looks around, those brows lower and lower till he is eventually frowning, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Further left. On the windowsill."Again, the brows fly up. "Ah.""Yes," he agrees. "My little friend must have gotten caught in the storm. He was there when I found him."Wangji leans over to examine the broken wings. His breath mists the glass. "Dead?""That's why I went outside," Lan Xichen lies smoothly, smiling sadly at the poor thing. "I wanted to take him to, you know, the garden. But then I got caught in the rain."Over the course of his explanation (lie, lie, big fat lie), Wangji's expression has softened, and when he turns to Lan Xichen, he suddenly finds it a whole lot easier to breathe. (And a whole lot harder too. That look is one he hardly deserves, but one gets far too often from him.)"I can take him.""No, no, I should do it. Actually, I was thinking... it's rather morbid, but sometimes people collect insects, don't they? Would it be, do you think it'd be..." his eyes are fixed on that tiny dot of blue, and the more he rambles, the more he wonders at himself. "It'd be wrong to keep him, wouldn't it?""Hm." Wangji has always had impeccable morals compared to him. He takes his judgement as law, these days."I know. I don't... I don't even know why I was considering it. He is rather beautiful though.""Mm." Wangji agrees. Eventually, he returns to the bed. He tries to feel Lan Xichen's forehead again, even though it's barely been two minutes. "Speaking of wandering about in the rain," he says. "It's nice to see you, but I wasn't expecting you to brave the weather to visit me. Is there a reason...?"He raises his head. "Wei Ying.""...Ah." That could mean anything, with Wangji. Everything is Wei Ying this, Wei Ying that. Lan Xichen isn't jealous or worried, he's just frustrated that when his little brother uses his husband's name so often in the place of actual words, that it becomes difficult (even for him) to understand what he means. It's like all the cues he knows how to read fly out of the window because Wangji has adopted a new type of language whenever his beloved comes into the picture.He bites back a sigh. "What about Wei Ying?""I've been talking to Wei Ying," he says, and pauses. Is he expecting Lan Xichen to get what he means by that?(Is this what others mean when they say his brother is difficult to understand??)He tries to extrapolate, drawing on what he knows about what topics his brother and his husband discuss, but if they are talking that usually means— "Ah." Wangji's eyes light up, and he... he cannot fault him for being happy. He's wanted this for so long. It would be cruel to deny him. "Of course, of course. So, when do you leave?"The light blows out. "Leave?" he demands.Lan Xichen freezes. Was that not what he'd been implying?They've been talking about what their plans are with Lan Xichen, and after the wedding, they said that they wanted to travel. Even after the honeymoon, Wangji said, he wants to go wherever Wei Ying goes.As soon as he said that, he knew that meant that his brother's place would no longer be in Gusu, or at least not on a permanent basis. With Wei Ying, the place to be is wherever the wind blows. He has no roots, but Wangji... see that's why he worries about Wangji. He knows he will be happy with Wei Ying, but what if he misses home? Will he come back for himself, or will he bear it for the sake of not confining Wei Ying to a place he cannot stand?Even worse—what if he doesn't miss it? In that case, will he ever come back at all?He'd been expecting them to leave as soon as the wedding was over, but if they want to leave before then... well, he won't be the one to tell them no. If Uncle has a problem with it, well, he should have made more of an effort to actually be here to forbid them from leaving then. Lan Xichen won't stand in the way of their happiness. Even if it means them leaving. It's not like he deserves to keep Wangji here anyway, looking after him when it's not as if—It's not as if he can't take care of himself."Yes," he rasps, and tentatively clears his throat. It's less painful now, thanks to the tea. "You want to travel, don't you?"Wangji blinks. "That's not what I meant.""No?""We've been talking about you," he clarifies."Oh."That still explains nothing.Wangji huffs, but then all traces of humour leave his face at once. He shivers, seeing his expression change like that. Again, when he's like this, he doesn't know what to expect. "What we're doing right now," Wangji says, his voice surprisingly soft. "It's not working."Oh.Lan Xichen sits for a while, then lies back to contemplate the ceiling. He's not wrong. None of it is working. "We need to start looking at other options."That startles him enough to meet his brother's gaze. "Options?""Treatments. Medicine. Spells." Anything, basically, that wasn't sitting around waiting and hoping that his qi would magically revert to its normal path. "We... we will have to travel, to find a cure."A cure. So they think he's sick?Maybe he is. Lan Xichen returns to the ceiling. It's easier to face than his brother's hopeful expression. He doesn't want to risk revealing what he truly thinks about those options and their chances of success. People always marvel at how well he can read his brother, but they forget that it goes the same the other way. There is no one who knows him better than A-Zhan. "With your permission," Wangji says, "We will go to the Nie Sect to ask for their advice."Qi deviation. They dare not say it in front of him, but it hangs in the air. If anyone will know how to treat it, their best bet would be the Qinghe Nie. Their clan, with their predisposition towards deviation, must have a large base of knowledge about the condition. Even so, Lan Xichen remembers Nie MingJue, and how he divulged to him that no cure had yet been discovered.In all their centuries of cultivation, the Nie had come to the conclusion that deviation was simply a risk they all had to take to use their clan's techniques, and that to accept that risk was part of the training. Death comes to us all, Brother Xichen. It's nothing to be afraid of. A clap on the back, and off he'd go, swinging Baxia around with great waves of dark-tinged qi trailing behind him. Time passed. The better he got at using his blade, the more the black fire feasted on his soul.Eventually, when he came to visit the Cloud Recesses, he would drop at Lan Xichen's side, shattering any rocks on the ground beneath him. Play for me, brother, he'd request in a gruff, tired voice, and Lan Xichen would play for hours. Even though the darkness in his soul would linger, Nie MingJue would lie by his side with a smile on his face.Lan Xichen is so, so tired.Tired of smiling all the time, or of trying to smile. For others. Always for others.Bone-weary just from thinking of those times, and hollow with the ache of longing. How long has it been since he played his xiao? Sometimes the bolder disciples will deliberately wander into range of the hanshi and practice their instruments for him. Their music will fill his core with warmth and well-wishes. Zewu-Jun, return to us! Zewu-Jun, feel better! A thousand voices singing to him carried to him on the breeze. Songs of clarity and cleansing. Songs that he wrote for himself, or that he wrote for him—"Brother?"Wangji only played for him a few times with the same intention of healing him. When it became obvious that it was having no effect on him, they were disturbed by the thought that... was he so far gone that even their clan's best guqin-player couldn't help him? Wangji offered to tell the disciples to stop, but Lan Xichen declined. Even if it doesn't help him, at least it helps them to think that they are helping—"Huan-ge."Oh, he's not been called that for a while. His brother is holding his hand. When did he do that?"Do you really think it will help, A-Zhan?" he murmurs, closing his eyes. "Is it worth the trouble, when we know—""We don't know anything." Wangji's voice is cutting, hand tightening around his. "That is why we must look for answers."Wei Ying thought it was a curse a few months back, and set to the task: researching all that he could, looking for protective seals and so-called elixirs he could try to brew. The two of them—even Wei Ying, with his barely formed core—poured spiritual energy into his meridians daily, but nothing would take. It was like pouring water onto a thin cloth. He could hold the donated energy for a while, but eventually it would dry up."What if there are no answers?"Wangji releases him, standing up from the bed. The crackle of his energy tingles in his hand. He's pacing again. Each time he passes the windowsill, he can hear his footsteps slow, and then pick up again when he spins around. "We should be focusing on more important things."The footsteps halt. Like what?"Your quarrel with Sect Leader Jiang," he says. Sect Leader Jiang, not Jiang Wanyin. Not Jiang Cheng either, he assumes. "Do you think it will affect your working relationship?"
(Lan Wangji and I, we don't get along. He probably doesn't even care what I said.)
A snort. Wangji comes over to look down at him, his mouth slightly quirked, as if to say do you think I'd let something so trivial affect me? Oh. That's good. Lan Xichen smiles back. "Ah, I'm worrying over nothing then."Wangji drops down to kneel at his side. "Don't worry." He takes his hand again, rubbing it between both of his. "Let me worry about it."All of a sudden, he wants to cry. His brother is too good to him. He never gives up, not even now when there is nothing—nothing... Lan Xichen's sob catches him by surprise.Instantly, Wangji pulls him onto his lap.He tucks himself against him, pressing his face to his shoulder. Whatever is happening to him, it's not the fact that he is getting worse that scares him, or the fact that it is likely that there is no cure for this that is breaking his spirit. It's this. His family, trying to support him through it, and most of all his brother, who refuses to give up on him. In all those years he waited, both for Wei Ying and for their mother, he never gave up.They were dead, but all he did was wait as if waiting would bring them back. As if his patience and devotion would pay out eventually. As if their return was always guaranteed.You cannot wait forever, dìdì, he tried to say one time, but he said nothing in reply. They knelt at mother's door until long after the sunset. Then Wangji turned to him with reddened eyes. I can, he'd declared fiercely, staring straight ahead. I will. The urge to kick open that door to show him that no one lived there anymore swelled up in him. She's gone, he'd wanted to scream, why can't you accept that? Instead, he swallowed his grief, and continued to kneel with him every month for a full year, until his little brother finally saw that it was hurting him to hold on to that hope. It hurt him in a way it never did with Wangji. To him, hope wasn't a burden. It didn't eat at him when nothing changed.Only when he'd been left waiting for Wei Wuxian for half a decade did his heart start to waver, but then Lan Xichen (surprising himself) took up the slack, and he dropped a young Sizhui into his lap. Teach him, he'd urged, carrying over their matching guqins. Show him how you play to the spirits. He came to regret pointing him in that direction, because Wangji took off running with it. When he learnt from Lan Qiren that Sizhui was too tired to pay attention to his lessons, due to him playing Inquiry with his father every night, he put his foot down but Wangji didn't care. He played and he played until his fingers were bloody. Until the ghosts around Gusu came to expect his company. Lan Xichen doesn't want a repeat of that. Not again. Not for him. "Wangji," he breathes, squeezing his fingers. The damage of repeatedly cutting his fingers open again and again on the guqin strings meant that they lacked feeling at the tips. Nerve damage, the doctor had declared, the cost of overusing a magical tool. It's not likely they'll grow back. "Will you... will you let your older brother help you?"The arms around him squeeze tight, because while Wangji is hopeful, he is also stubborn.Lan Xichen sighs. "You never do. You never have. For once in your life let me help ease your burdens, A-Zhan. Stop taking responsibility for things that aren't even your fault—"Hm. That wasn't clever.Wangji is looking at him now, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. One arm departs, moving to press a hand to his mouth. He exhales slowly, fingers drumming against Lan Xichen's side, and eyes boring into the wall. Finally, he grunts. "Jiang Cheng."Lan Xichen stares. He'd never noticed before that Wangji didn't even call the man by his courtesy name. They weren't close, they weren't enemies. But they were familiar.Then he realises that Wangji is asking him... asking him to...?Oh no. "What do you want me to do?" he asks warily.Even if Wangji has brushed off the fact that he was hurt by Jiang Cheng's statement, it never takes much to provoke ill feelings between the two. They've always butted heads, but this time Jiang Cheng struck at the heart of things with his acid words, and Wangji wasn't expecting that. It would be in his rights to ask Lan Xichen to tell him to leave, but... he doesn't know, he didn't hear him, he hasn't read the letter—The letter says it all.
[I said something terrible to your brother. I swear I will make it right.]
It says how Jiang Cheng really feels about the incident, and he... he's not good at apologising, as Wei Wuxian has said before. He doesn't like to admit when he's done wrong, and due to his privileged upbringing, he has never had to beg favours.This year though, Wei Wuxian has gushed over every letter or parcel received from his brother.Look! he'd exclaim, babbling over the treats, and unrolling the scrolls with careful hands. Once or twice, when he'd been keeping Lan Xichen company, he'd mention he's asking me what I think about them increasing the price of fish. What does he think I am? A fishmonger?? What an old man, hahaha! Then he'd smile softly to himself, and tuck the scroll in his sleeve and pick up his own brush and ink. He's trying though. He's really trying.Lan Xichen doesn't know what to do. On the one hand, he can't ignore his brother's feelings, on the other—Jiang Cheng is trying.Don't ask me to send him away, he thinks frantically. He's never reached out to me, or anyone before. He's sorry. He wants to be friends."I don't think he will leave," Wangji says slowly, feeling out the words. "Without speaking to someone. He wanted to see you. Not Uncle. He seemed... determined."Lan Xichen stares. This is news to him. He'd been asking himself all this time: since when has Jiang Cheng cared enough to ask about me? Is it a pity, or actual concern? But if he wanted this before the argument—"He can't leave," he blurts randomly. "He broke his foot."Wangji pulls back. You know? How do you know? Lan Xichen could show him the letter, but then he'd see Jiang Cheng's brushwork, and—and... whilst he doesn't think that Wangji will fly into a blind rage if he were to discover that Jiang Cheng shares something in common with him (something he could possibly become better at than him, with a little practice), until now they've never had any reason to compete for anything.They have different interests. Their lives barely intersect. Even with Wei Ying connecting them now, and all the other ways they are connected, they have maintained a careful distance over the years.
I wouldn't worry about it too much. It's not like there's anything to ruin between me and him.
Oh, but he worries.He worries because even if things aren't bad, they can always get worse. You never think something will become a problem until it does, and then there is no way to go back in time to fix it.Maybe he's overthinking things. Expecting that calligraphy will become a thing between Jiang Cheng and his brother sounds ridiculous, but they've had no problem squabbling over lesser things with surprising ferocity. They fought over him when they were little, for goodness' sake. That's how petty they can be around one another.What he worries about isn't even about the letter. It's something else that was waiting patiently to be acknowledged, festering for years unspoken between them. The two have different interests, but they want the same things. It doesn't make sense, but then it doesn't have to.Sometimes, it can take so little for things to spiral out of control. A careless word. A scribbled note. A childhood grudge. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian have been trying to mend their relationship for a whole year now, and whilst it's going well, it's such a delicate situation that anything can tip the scales.
You've been doing so well with him lately. Don't go ruining it now over someone like Lan Wangji, especially if you care for him so little. Didn't you tell me that you want things to get better between you? How can that happen if you've offended his husband?
Lan Xichen can see it.Jiang Cheng has never done well with competition. Anyone with eyes can see how badly the rivalry with his brother has soured their relationship. Wangji, on the other hand, is an unknown. Will he be jealous? Will he not care? Jiang Cheng claimed that he wouldn't, but looking at how badly his words affected him, that makes it seem like he does care a lot more than he lets on. They're both more sensitive to each other than they would like to think. They just cannot see it themselves.It dawns on him: this could become a thing."Let me speak to him."Wangji blinks. "No.""You said he won't leave without speaking to me. He can't leave anyway until he is healed. The least I can do is—""No.""—Uncle won't be back for a week, by my estimate. You're busy to do this. Let me—""You are sick.""When am I not sick?" he shouts, and watches as his brother's expression darkens. It's true though. As a child he never got sick, but now illness is a constant in his life. Sometimes he wakes up and feels awful for no reason. If this is something he has to live with, he cannot let it control his life. "When am I not, anymore?" he snaps. His brother flinches. When he realises how that sounded, he softens his voice. "A-Zhan, let me do this for you. Don't leave me here to do nothing when I can help. Please.""This is not your problem to fix.""Am I not still Sect Leader?"Wangji freezes. This is something that has come into conversation before, between him and Uncle. How long can they wait before they need to look for someone to take his place? Their father lived the rest of his life in seclusion with their uncle acting in his place, but Uncle won't be alive forever, and that is not the type of life he wants for Wangji. If there is anything that will motivate him to hold a little tighter onto life, it's this: the fact that if he dies, Wangji will be forced to take his place.Day-to-day, he's already doing more than his part, which the elders have taken notice of. The elders have been talking to him too, Lan Xichen knows. Asking him to consider what it will mean for him if he is to become Sect Leader. You will need to take a wife, was one of the first things they said to Wangji, as if it had already been decided. That man you have... attached yourself to, he cannot give you heirs. He'd stood unflinching amidst all their comments. Of course he had. What could furtive looks and clicking tongues do to him, when he has already faced them all before in far worse circumstances, and suffered thirty-three lashes from the Discipline Whip for daring to do so? He's not afraid. But Lan Xichen is. He clings onto his position, not for the honour of leading his clan, but out of fear for what it might mean if he were to step aside. Never will he forget carrying his brother back to his jingshi, and the blood that stained his hands for years after that. Never again."It's my responsibility to look after our interests, and that includes—"
(—as Sect Leader you have to! It's important to keep good relations with your fellow sects—)
"—dealing with guests, but also," he adds, shooting his brother a look, "Looking after our own, which includes you. It is not my problem, but it is my duty."Wangji's mouth snaps shut. He cannot argue with that. He doesn't dare.Lan Xichen closes his eyes. A clear dismissal. He releases a long breath, and slowly Wangji lifts him onto the bed and tucks him in again. He is long past being embarrassed for needing this—for leaning into his brother's touch when he smoothes the blankets over him and opening his eyes when Wangji makes to leave.There is no dignity in dying, he's come to realise. Despite all efforts, he cares little for the fact that he has become so dependent. It is a lonely thing, to realise that he is counting every time he does these things for him as if he feels the need to memorise every touch."I will arrange a meeting for you." Wangji finally pulls away. The fire is too far away, and suddenly he feels cold. When Wangji makes it half-way across the room, he spins around. "When you're better.""Tomorrow, then," Lan Xichen replies cheekily. His brother's mouth twists. "Tomorrow.""If you rest," he insists, his hand pressed to the door. "Maybe.""I will write a letter for you to take to Nie Huaisang." Technically they don't need permission to visit Qinghe Nie since Lan Xichen's frequent visits to the Sect opened a gateway between their territories, but it's always good to be prepared. "I will bring it tomorrow with me then."Their eyes remain locked for a good few minutes before Lan Xichen breaks off with a yawn. When he opens his eyes, Wangji is looking at something. He turns to give him a nod. "Tomorrow then, but for now..."The door swings closed."...rest."He hums in agreement, absolutely ready for sleep, but just before he closes his eyes, Lan Xichen spots something leaning against the wall. Wangji's umbrella? "Ah! Lan Zhan, why are you all wet?!"Rustle, rustle."Did you get caught in the rain?""Hm.""Where is your umbrella?""...""You're so strange, Lan Zhan." He said 'tomorrow', but was he really ready for it?No. No, he was not.The next day, he wakes feeling like... like a walking corpse. He is sorely tempted to roll over and continue sleeping. But he has things to do. People to meet.(A friendship to pursue.)When Lan Xichen pushes open the door, the two boys standing there trip over themselves in their hurry to greet him. "Zewu-Jun!" they exclaim, fluttering around him until they realise that they're being disruptive, and also who exactly they're speaking to. Lan Xichen smiles at their enthusiasm and greets them both by name. "Do you need us to fetch you something?" A-Tao pipes up, practically vibrating with eagerness. "Are you hungry? We can—""No, no," he laughs lightly. "It's not that. I am to attend a meeting." He pauses. "Knowing Wangji, it'll probably be held in the Library Pavilion.""A meeting, Zewu-Jun?""Let us take you there!""No need," he says, moving past them. They match him step-for-step. "Really. It's fine.""We insist!"Well then, if they insist. He finds himself able to walk without assistance, but their company is appreciated nevertheless. They're so young. So full of life and energy.And curiosity too, it seems."Zewu-Jun," one of them starts, already hesitating to speak out of turn. "Are we... is it really okay for you to be out here?" He hastens to add, "I mean, I mean are you—does this mean you've left seclusion then?""A-Ming!"Lan Xichen grins at both of them, barely containing another laugh when the boys start miming at each other, hands flying about and eyes bulging every now and again. They're so expressive! Once again, he wonders if these two are from Jingyi's branch of the family or if their vivacity is merely a product of their youth. Watching them is entertaining but he really must leave, so he answers. "I suppose I have, at least for today." He winks.Both of them pause, exchange a glance, and then sneak glances at him. They look confused. He can read it on their faces: is that how seclusion works??? In a flurry of movements and gestures, their silent conversation continues, and he watches as they seem to be arguing over... ah, they are conflicted. A-Tao pretends to stroke his chin, which seems to be a way of referring to Uncle, in this strange sign language of theirs. When A-Ming pauses, looking like he is being asked to choose between drinking two different types of poison, he decides to step in."It's alright," he says gently, drawing their attention back to him. "Really, I promise you won't be in any trouble. It's not as if Uncle has banned me from leaving the hanshi, you know.""O-Of course not!" Clearly they thought he had. "Let's go then," he beckons with a jerk of his head. They leap back into excited-mode immediately, hurrying to sandwich him either side. What good boys, he thinks, as he opens Wangji's umbrella. He was worried this morning when he realised that Wangji must have walked back to his room in the rain. Worried and touched."Let me hold your umbrella for you!"He pauses. "But how will you hold one for yourself?""It's fine!"It is not fine, but seeing how weak he felt waking up, it's likely that today his arms will tire rather quickly. A-Ming beams at him when he relinquishes the umbrella. These aren't the disciples who play music for him, but they fetch his meals and clothes and, for whatever reason, they feel the need to guard him. When he'd asked Wangji what exactly he'd told them they need to protect him from, he'd replied that no such orders had been issued. It dawned on him then, that they were doing it simply because they didn't want him to be alone. These boys... whatever he's done to deserve their kindness, the least he can do is let them fuss over him, if that's what they want."Zewu-Jun," A-Tao tries now, their elbows bumping together. "Who are you meeting with? Do we need to bring refreshments?"It's late morning. He wonders whether Jiang Cheng has eaten breakfast. Better to be safe than sorry. "If it's not too much trouble—""Not at all. Ouyang!" A-Ming hollers, and then stiffens again.Lan Xichen says nothing. Up ahead Ouyang swivels around, and when he spots them his eyes bulge, and then he runs over. Are all three of them usually this rambunctious, or are they just new to the rules? (Or is it perhaps, the influence of a certain lively Young Master, who the juniors all refer to as 'Senior' now, and whose take on the Sect rules is that they should be 'open to interpretation'?) "Ouyang," A-Ming says more calmly, once he's within range, "Go bring some tea and snacks to the library. Be quick. Zewu-Jun is having a meeting.""Why do I always have to fetch the tea..." Ouyang whines, but then his head catches up with his mouth, and his eyes widen. "Not that it's a problem, Zewu-Jun! Do you have any preference?"He hums thoughtfully. Jiang Cheng, from what he knows, isn't picky. "I'm not sure. Anything will do, I suppose."Ouyang makes a face. "The kitchens hate when I give them vague answers like that." A-Ming shoots him a warning look, but he seems to be rather immune to it. "Maybe if I told them who you were meeting, then they'd know what they'd like?""Oh, well if you think so, by all means."If that will do to help, it's never a bad idea to get on the good side of the kitchen staff— Suddenly, it's almost like killing intent focused on him, but instead of wanting him dead, these boys want answers. Their eyes shine with curiosity, and Lan Xichen wonders what they'll do if he decides not to tell them. He continues walking towards the library, the three of them scrambling after him like a gaggle of baby ducks. When they reach the Library Pavilion, the table is already set with tea and fruit, and Wangji is sitting there waiting for him.The juniors immediately straighten up, scurrying to take the umbrellas to be stacked against the wall. Wangji makes as if to stand, but Lan Xichen holds up his hand, and carefully lowers himself to the floor. He is no old man yet."It seems you won't be having to fetch the tea this time, Ouyang," he calls, making the boy's ears turn red. Smiling, he nods towards his brother, pushing a sealed scroll across the table. "Your permission letter."Wangji's lips press into a thin line as he takes it. He bows his head, then rises to stand."When might I be expecting him to arrive?"His brother shifts the scroll to his other hand. "Doesn't know.""What was that?""Didn't tell him," Wangji informs him, looking not the slightest bit bothered by this admission. In fact, he looks smug.Lan Xichen stares for a long moment. "Then how on earth is he supposed to know to come here?"Wangji shifts again, this time appearing slightly uncomfortable. He obviously hadn't wanted to make it easy for Jiang Cheng, but if it becomes known that he's the reason for Jiang Cheng losing face in front of Lan Xichen for being 'late' to a meeting he'd requested... hm, that won't look good at all. Lan Xichen drums his fingers on the table twice, but then he turns to the three boys who are clearly unsure whether they are meant to leave or not, and suddenly has an idea."Ouyang!" he calls again and watches as the boy is pushed to the front by his friends. "I have a very important favour to ask of you. Will you help me by going to collect my guest?"He brightens instantly, puffing out his chest. "Of course, Zewu-Jun! Who might I be collecting?" "Since when did you become the resident healer? Ow, ow, ow! Stop that!""You sound just like A-Ling after a night-hunt. Or does he sound like you?" Wei Wuxian tuts as he pulls the bandage around his foot till it is tightly bound. "Whiny. Bossy. Shouty."Jiang Cheng kicks his other foot towards his face but he dodges, cackling madly as he tumbles right off the bed. Lying on the floor with his legs propped on the edge of the mattress, Wei Wuxian tangles his legs with Jiang Cheng's, quickly instigating a furious foot-battle. It's hardly fair with Jiang Cheng having to fend him off with only one foot. "Oi!" he growls, landing a blow to his brother's hip, who immediately starts whining. "What are you crying for? And you say I'm acting like a baby.""It's just a broken foot," Wei Wuxian whinges, "It'll heal in a couple of days. You hit me in my weak spot! Just for that, I'm telling A-Ling you called him a baby!""How is your hip your weak spot?" Jiang Cheng scoffs. "Why would you be weak there?"Wei Wuxian rolls over and peeks cautiously over the edge. Only his eyes are visible. Jiang Cheng peers down at him, already suspicious about why he's drawing this out. "The last time I told you why, you told me not to come whining to you about what Lan Zhan does to me—" Oh god. "—and that it was my own damn fault for being so shameless. But this body isn't as strong as my old one used to be, you know—""Enough!"Wei Wuxian's eyes dart between his red face and clenched fists a couple of times before he seems to decide it's safe to come out. He plops back on the bed with a bounce, jarring the foot and making Jiang Cheng hiss like a snake. He sniggers at him, grabbing his ankle to massage the joint. Unfortunately, it feels really good, so Jiang Cheng finds himself closing his eyes to soak in the sensation. He ignores it even when Wei Wuxian giggles at the noises he makes.Even if he has a rotten bedside manner, at least he's good for something he supposes."To answer your question, who do you think patches up the juniors after a night-hunt, hm?" He squeezes Jiang Cheng's calves, forcing a reluctant groan out of him. "They're kids. Always falling over, getting scabby knees and bruises everywhere. Well, not my A-Yuan, obviously—""Hanguang-Jun, of course," Jiang Cheng says without thinking. "Not you. You're just as bad as them."There is a long pause then, during which Wei Wuxian's hands don't stop rubbing out his sore muscles, but his silence speaks for him. Jiang Cheng doesn't have to open his eyes to read the atmosphere. He could hardly believe it when his brother turned up this morning with a bundle of bandages wedged under one arm. He careened into the room like a tornado, whisking Jin Ling out of his bed and shoving the juniors out to get breakfast, and then he descended on Jiang Cheng like a first-time mother fussing over their sick child.He'd felt his forehead, then his cheeks, then got him to stick out his tongue. It's my foot that's hurt, you idiot! he'd roared, once he snapped out of his daze and it occurred to him he was being messed with. At the time, Wei Wuxian was diligently checking his pulse, and humming and hahing about how the stress was clearly ageing him prematurely.The whole experience was a step back in time, and while Jiang Cheng struggled with his emotions, Wei Wuxian properly buckled down to the task. The careful way he held Jiang Cheng's ankle was something he'd learned from A-Jie, as was all of the rest of it: the massage, to stimulate the blood; the humour, to lighten the mood; the talking, to distract from the pain.He almost forgot completely about the previous day, so lulled by the comfort of his brother taking care of him, but it came to him now.
You have no right to make assumptions. To say such things.
Leave!
His broken foot was the result of self-punishment. As soon as he'd walked far enough away from the 'scene of the crime', he found himself sinking into despair.That was it, he'd thought. He'd blown it. Talking to Lan Wangji like that was never something he should have allowed himself to do. Not only did it reflect badly on his clan, but what hurt Lan Wangji also hurt Wei Wuxian these days. Now that they are married, they come as one unit.Jiang Cheng had let loose against the poor, defenceless tree with all his strength, but resisted from lashing it with Zidian. This needed to hurt. This needed to remind him in days to come, of what his lack of control had cost him. His knuckles were bloody by the end of it, but it wasn't enough. Hence the kicking and the broken foot.He hadn't expected to see Wei Wuxian again before leaving the Cloud Recesses.In his mind, Jiang Cheng was sure that by the time the juniors let him go, the rift between them would have grown too great to pass, and he would have to leave knowing that... knowing that this was on him. He'd go back to Lotus Pier and have to face the fact that everything they have done to make it this far—him and his brother—would be finished. There is a bundle of candied lotus root on his desk, waiting to be sent here to Gusu. He was thinking about what he might have to do with the gift. Send it to Jin Ling, perhaps? The thought soured his mood even further.But now... now there is a glimmer of hope. There might be a possibility he can send it here, and it might still be well-received.Maybe, maybe. Depending on what this silence brings."A-Cheng," Wei Wuxian finally says, forcing him to open his eyes, because of that... that tone right there. That is the way his father used to speak to him. (A-Cheng, try not to let your emotions control you. A-Cheng, some words cannot be spoken frivolously.) He doesn't want to listen to this. Anything but this. If he hears him say the same thing, he's going to lose it— "A-Cheng! What are you doing? Get back in the bed!"His foot doesn't even brush the floor before Wei Wuxian is upon him, shoving him back until he is pinned to the bed. "You—!" "No," his brother commands, with a sternness that stuns Jiang Cheng into silence. He clasps his shoulders, squeezing until he meets his eyes. Again, it's like he's been thrown back in time. "Jiang Cheng. Listen carefully," Wei Wuxian says, those borrowed eyes shining with the same determination. "I don't believe you meant any of what you said."What?But—he told him to leave. He didn't see him when he was trapped outside his body. He told him you have no idea what's going on around here, and he was right. Wei Wuxian stays atop him for a moment but then flops to the side with a heavy sigh. In an even more bizarre turn of events, he slaps both hands to his forehead and drags them down his face.This is usually Jiang Cheng's part, not his. Seeing his brother actually behave like the weary older brother he pretends he is... Jiang Cheng doesn't know what to do or say. For the first time in over twenty years, he feels like a little child waiting to see what comes next. Wei Wuxian has taken on the spirit of their father and sister in this show of compassion, and—and Jiang Cheng wished he'd been expecting it, but he hadn't. He doesn't deserve to be understood. To be listened to.A lump forms in his throat. "I just don't get why," Wei Wuxian grumbles, "Why oh why did you have to say it then? What the hell was going on in your head, hm? I know you aren't aware of all the details about what's happening here, but where is that tact you so like to lecture me with each time I open my mouth? It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. Isn't it obvious that Xichen-ge isn't doing well?"Jiang Cheng grunts. Of course it is. He's not stupid. "So, pointing that out to Lan Zhan when you know how close those two are, and then blaming the situation on him—""I know... I..."He's ashamed. Losing his temper over something like this. What even was the reason why he got so mad? Jiang Cheng searches for the exact moment he lost it, trying to pinpoint exactly where he lost control. There is nothing he can defend himself with though. No real excuse. He just thought about Lan Xichen alone in seclusion, and projected his own feelings onto that completely unrelated situation, and found himself unable to control his reaction. He really was no better than a child.Jiang Cheng sits up, and Wei Wuxian reacts—tensing up but keeping his body loose. He's ready to jump on him at a moment's notice, but he won't need to. Jiang Cheng is done with running. He's done with it. Everything. He's done. "I don't blame you if you don't want me at the wedding," he hears himself say, as he plucks at the edge of the blanket. "I... I'll try to apologise, but if he doesn't accept it, I understand that too."Wei Wuxian slaps him.He whirls around, only to find his brother glaring at him. That fury is nothing like the Yiling Patriarch, so his skin doesn't crawl to see it. It's pure thirteen-year-old-Wei-Wuxian yelling at him for training till he collapsed. You idiot! he'd screamed, dragging him back to their room. Do you even think before you do these things? Forget what your mother said! It means nothing!"Are you stupid?" Wei Wuxian growls, looming over him. In spite of this, Jiang Cheng doesn't feel even a hint of fear. He stares in awe as his brother's anger peters out, his body flopping half on top of his. This close, Wei Wuxian leans that bit further to knock their foreheads together. "That was a stupid question. Of course you're stupid, thinking I don't want you at my wedding... stupid!" Smack. "How dare you? You already said yes. No take-backs!""But Lan Wangji—""But nothing. You'll apologise to him, he'll get over it. Deep down he knows you didn't mean it either, and anyway," Wei Wuxian shifts to turn over, sprawling out on his side. "I don't know if I should be telling you this—""Then don't?""But you got yourself involved, so it's really your fault. Not telling you now would only put you at a disadvantage, and if you were to tread on any more toes accidentally then that would be my fault for not letting you know.""How does that even make sense?!""So me telling you is really doing us all a favour, even if it is very, very likely going to bite me in the ass when someone inevitably finds out. That person will probably be Lan Zhan though, so biting isn't a problem." He blows out his cheeks, folds his arms behind his head, and exhales loudly as he cracks his back. "Okay, so about Lan Zhan — ""Wei Wuxian," Jiang Cheng pleads. "Look, I don't want to get into any more hot water with him, alright? You don't need to tell me anything. I'll apologise and I'll leave, and then I'll come for the wedding and that will be it, okay?"Wei Wuxian shakes his head, and Jiang Cheng deflates. The jut of his jaw means that there'll be no swaying him. Jiang Cheng considers plugging his ears, but... but in a way, if he tilts his head sideways and squints, Wei Wuxian may have a point. If he really wants to be a part of his brother's life, that means getting along with his husband, and if he continues to 'tread on any more toes' as Wei Wuxian puts it, by walking into this situation blind... that would be stupid. That would only be creating problems for himself later on.While he's mulling over all of this, weighing his options to the best of his ability, his brother decides to slide down to rest his head on his shoulder, and... this is why I'm doing this, Jiang Cheng thinks. Not just for Wei Wuxian back in his life, but for Jin Ling too. For all of them to bury this decades-long hatchet and move on with their lives.He has never been affectionate, but Wei Wuxian is about as tactile as they get. Jiang Cheng fidgets but finally moves to stiffly put an arm around his shoulders.Wei Wuxian snuggles up to him and then lets out a sigh. "As I was saying, Lan Zhan is really struggling right now, you know? Almost the same way you and I are, but not quite. He and his brother... when I say that Xichen-ge isn't doing very well right now, I really mean it. He's been getting worse, in fact. We've been trying all sorts of things to help him, but everything we've tried is the Lan way. You know. Seclusion, meditation, songs of cleansing. The usual bullshit."Jiang Cheng snorts, but Wei Wuxian doesn't so much as smirk.It must be really serious then."Really though, it's not all bullshit. It should technically be working if it is what we think it is. But if you ask me, this is like nothing we've ever seen before. It doesn't fit the symptoms of any disease we can find."Jiang Cheng considers it for a moment. The answer is obvious to him. "Qi deviation?" he asks quietly.Even whispering that aloud sends a shudder up his spine. It's the only disease that no cultivator can survive. A feast upon the soul, it's been called.Suddenly he pictures Lan Xichen: that gentle soul, that smiling figure—and imagines him frothing at the mouth, no longer to recognise himself or tell friend from foe. If he's been like that for a whole year, it's no wonder they aren't talking about it. The situation is really dire. To be consumed by qi deviation is to lose all sense of self. Jiang Cheng has himself questioned whether he had it at one point, and was an outlier: a rare case of qi deviation in continuation, where the person only managed to survive hell by becoming a demon. "No, weren't you listening to me?" Wei Wuxian cuts in, twisting around till they are facing each other. "When I say it's like nothing we've ever seen before, I mean it's like nothing we've ever seen before. There are some similarities to qi deviation but it doesn't fit quite right, and nothing is helping him. Not even Lan Zhan can reach him."Jiang Cheng gapes in silent horror. Not even Lan Wangji? But they are the Twin Jades. How can that be...? Without meaning to, he flips the images in his head. In Lan Wangji's place is Wei Wuxian, in Lan Xichen is him. Would his brother even realise if he was lost to madness?With a personality like his, the line between anger and madness is always so thin that he could be mistaken for having deviated. And before—Jiang Cheng can't let go of the fact that Wei Wuxian didn't see him before, when he was lost to anger. Would Wei Wuxian even try to reach out to him if he were affected? Probably not. He wouldn't even know. In all likelihood, if he were to succumb to qi deviation, he would just die and no one would think anything of it. A fitting end for one like Sandu Shengshou. His rage finally ate him up. Good riddance!That's fine. Really, that's fine. He knows the decisions he's made and what they look like to others.But Lan Xichen? Not even Lan Zhan can reach him."Oh god," he gasps. In an instant, he is hanging over the side of the bed retching. What has he done? How could he say that to Lan Wangji? That was too cruel, even for him. He knows what it's like to not be able to reach your brother. To lose him to madness and not be able to reach him. God. To think that he threw that in Lan Wangji's face— "Hey, hey! Breathe, A-Cheng! Come on!"He can't breathe. He can't. He really can't. It's all too much.
[They're already marching back to that cursed mountain. Back to the home of the demon. They're calling for blood. With eyes so wide the pupils are circled in white, they call him the madman. Frothing at the mouth, they scream his name.
Yiling Patriarch! You will pay! We swear it! You will never rest peacefully!
That isn't his name, he wants to say. Call him by his name if you are going to swear anything at all. Let him know you don't fear him.
"Wei Wuxian," he hisses, fingers curling around Sandu. The men behind him cheer, shouting to raise their spirits. The cowards. His blood boils all the time now. There is nothing but anger. Nothing but rage.
When he turns his face to the mountain, he recalls walking past the barrier of corpses guarding it. Passing by them untouched. The Yiling Patriarch didn't exist yet back then. He'd walked through his soon-to-be domain and... and that was really the turning point, wasn't it? When they chose different sides, even if it was all a farce back then. When Wei Wuxian chose his people to defend, everything changed and—
What else could he do?
Do you really need me to say it out loud? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.
There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.
He inhales as far as his lungs will stretch, the rotten stench of blood and dust.
"S-Sect Leader Jiang, we are ready at your mark."
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jiang Cheng summons the image of his parents, bloodied and broken amongst all the other mangled bodies who piled atop one another. The news that Jin Zixuan was dead, killed by the Ghost General himself under Wei Wuxian's command. And then, when he came to the Pledge Conference, and shijie... his blood boils. It feels like acid in his veins. He is panting like a bull through his nose, red-eyed and shaking. The men have fallen quiet. Fallen far behind.
They fear him now. He can sense it on them.
And they call him a madman. Who are they even talking about anymore?
The dreaded Yiling Patriarch of the Burial Mounds, or the coldblooded Master of Lotus Pier?
The world has been split into so many pieces over the course of his short life. He cannot hold it together anymore. He cannot reach Wei Wuxian. Cannot convince him to change his mind. Each time he comes to him there is always an excuse he gives him, and it always makes sense in a horrible, twisted way. You said it already. I wouldn’t be in the right even if I am.
He's wrong and he's right. They're mad. They're all mad.
He cannot reach for him again, now that their shijie is dead. Now that there is no one but the two of them. The only way he can end this is to end him. It's the only way. Please, find me another way. Mother, father, I don't want to do this. Please, I don't want to do this—
The blood boils, the heart quickens. He gives the signal, and then they are all running and all he can think is this is wrong wrong wrong. It was never supposed to come to this. But he is lost. They both are. There is no other solution. He has thought this over and over and it has no end, this thing of theirs. Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. As if that would mark him less his brother. As if that would cut things clean.
Will this cut things clean? Will the world become right again if he does this? Jiang Cheng wants revenge, but this is too much. It's really too much—
Can someone tell me, please… what else am I supposed to do?]
"—Cheng! Will you please! Goddamn it, what is with you and Lan Zhan lately?"
Slap.
Jiang Cheng's other cheek is left glowing. He sputters, choking on the lump in his throat. "You—""Yes! Me!" Wei Wuxian exclaims, but he's not laughing. Grabbing him by the shoulders, they're in that position again. Wei Wuxian in this new body of his is far too small to be holding a person like Jiang Cheng down, but at this moment he seems giant compared to him. Jiang Cheng blinks, and there is the Yiling Patriarch. He blinks, and he is gone. "Stop that! You keep zoning out. Are you with me? Hellooo?"He stares at his brother for a long while. Finally, "Yes. I'm with you. You were saying?"Wei Wuxian leans back."Right, what was I saying... ah yes, I was saying that Lan Zhan has been trying a lot of things. Most of them involve meditation or music naturally, but I've come to the conclusion that... if none of that is working, and if he's not responsive to cultivation treatments, what if that means he can no longer use spiritual energy? That would suggest that he has lost the ability to cultivate at all, which doesn't seem right."The Lans are such a high-breed that their spiritual roots are strong, and Lan Xichen—well you know his cultivation base is exemplary. All of this points to one last possibility..."Jiang Cheng knows where he's going with this. "His core.""If his core is affected, it would explain his descent. I thought so too.""You thought?""But he's been examined many times and his core is still there. Perfectly intact. His meridians are also in good condition. It doesn't make sense at all."Jiang Cheng has to take a moment to absorb all of this. The mention of something affecting Lan Xichen's core and his inability to cultivate... they aren't easy things for him to think about.It rattles him every time he thinks about the core he now harbours, and how he's been carrying it with him all this time. Even Wei Wuxian has a sombre expression on his face which means he's also thinking about it. Before he can stop him, Wei Wuxian has placed a hand on his stomach. He doesn't dare breathe. It's not a place he likes being touched, even after all this time.But Wei Wuxian surely has a right to touch him there. After all, it's his core that resides now in Jiang Cheng's dantian.How must it have felt giving it up? He's considered it many times since learning about what happened, but after each time left him a trembling mess on the floor he stopped trying to picture it. The Core Melting Hand was Jiang Cheng's only experience with core removal, and though Wen Qing extracted it from Wei Wuxian without damaging it (or him), he can't imagine it was a painless process."You have something else you want to say."This close together, Wei Wuxian looks almost the same and yet entirely different from how he was before. His blurry face almost matches the one he used to have, but Jiang Cheng stops himself there—there's no use comparing them, over and over. Trying to look for his brother in the little details of his appearance will drive him mad. What matters more is what's going on in Wei Wuxian's head, not what his face looks like."I do!" The man brightens, though somehow he still remains unsmiling. "Think about it, Jiang Cheng. What else could affect someone high-level like Zewu-Jun, that would drain him of energy and resist the effects of any treatment."Jiang Cheng curses loudly. "Precisely that! A curse!"A curse? Someone has cursed Lan Xichen? Who would dare? Does someone blame him so much for his mistakes that they would curse him?"But what happened, surely they don't blame him for it! Who would—""It's just a suggestion, A-Cheng," Wei Wuxian interrupts. He feels like he's been slapped again. Exactly how many times is Wei Wuxian going to change the direction of this conversation? "Don't look at me like that. It's not proven yet. We need to find evidence first because even now it's only a thought. It could be many things. Presuming that there is something sinister behind this too quickly will blind us to what the real answer might be."That is a good point. A sore point. Jiang Cheng steadies himself. "So, what then?""Lan Zhan and I are going to investigate, of course. We've not been doing nothing all year! There are already a lot of things we've crossed out.""You say that but then you say it could be many things!""Jiang Cheng." This time his hushed voice brings no comfort. "Will you calm down, please—""How much time does he have?"Wei Wuxian opens his mouth."How will you know where to start?"That mouth snaps shut."What will happen to him while you are gone?"Wei Wuxian makes to slap him again, but Jiang Cheng catches his wrist. He struggles, but for now, it has distracted him from continuing his relentless outpouring of questions."You need to calm down! All these questions, you think we haven't thought about them too? A lot of the answers are the same: we don't know. There's simply no way of telling. The important thing is that we start at all. Lan Zhan probably won't want me telling you this (so don't tell me then, Jiang Cheng yells internally), but... even though your words were hurtful, rude, and really not very nice, in a way they were also sort-of... needed."The truth is, we've been sitting on this for so long because of both of them. Both Lan Xichen and Lan Zhan are quite in denial about the whole thing. It's difficult to face a situation like this and have to accept that hoping things will get better isn't good enough."Hoping is never good enough. By now, after everything they have been through, each of them should know that very well. Jiang Cheng turns to lie down again. Talking about this has given him far too much to think about, and whilst on the one hand, he is glad to be trusted with the information, on the other, it is a burden to finally know what's going on.At least one thing he can comfort himself with is the fact that his words weren't only needed—if what Wei Wuxian says is true, without him saying something it's quite possible they'd have sat on this even longer! Jiang Cheng still believes that this year could have been used much more effectively, and cannot help but sneer at the fact that they've wasted their precious time on hoping. But, he has to think—even if they set out a year ago, would they have found anything?He doesn't doubt Wei Wuxian when they say they have been trying everything, and the Lans have one of the biggest knowledge bases in the whole cultivation world... is there anything in the Jiang library that might be able to help? Aside from their silver bells, the Jiangs don't use many magical tools that help clear the mind..."Anyway, I just thought it was important for you to understand what's going on before things go too far and we end up having a huge falling out. Then I'd have to fight you."Jiang Cheng spins around. "You're not mad at me?""Ohhhh, I'm mad. I'm really mad. Actually, you better not say anything like that to Lan Zhan again or I'll gut you like a fish. But I can't blame you for speaking so thoughtlessly either, because you really didn't know anything." Wei Wuxian hangs back for a moment, but then he adds, "I do want you to apologise to him, but I'm not sure how that would work out for both of you."Jiang Cheng exhales. "Neither do I, but I guess I have to at least try somehow, don't I? If I'm coming to your wedding."Wei Wuxian beams. "That's right!""What a pity. I would have been able to save my money on a gift—"Bam! They're wrestling again. Jiang Cheng doesn't even care about his foot anymore. He'll be happy to break the other one on this smug idiot's face!"You better get me the best gift ever, A-Cheng! And make sure to Lan Zhan an even better one!""Part of the thing about getting married is sharing things! You'll get what I give you and be happy about it—""U-Uhm, S-Sect Leader Jiang??"Both of their heads swivel around. Standing at the door is a little mouse, as far as Jiang Cheng can see. He can't be older than thirteen. Quivering like a leaf, the boy is twisting his sleeves and his eyes are blown wide open.Wei Wuxian makes a noise of surprise but quickly clambers off the bed. "Ouyang-er, we've talked about this! You need to knock before you enter. You're lucky it's only me and not Hanguang-Jun this time. Actually, you're even luckier it's not me and Hanguang-Jun, haha—urk!""Disgusting." Jiang Cheng raps him on the head and turns to the little mouse, whose eyes grow wider when his attention falls on him. This is Jin Ling's room, he thinks. Is he one of his friends? Since when did he get so many? "What did you come here for? Did you have a message for me, or did you come for Jin Ling?""...you?""Was that a question or an answer?""Be nice, A-Cheng," Wei Wuxian chides, grinning sunnily at the boy, who latches onto his smile with trembling hands. "Ouyang, what are you here for?"His eyes dart between both of them nervously before landing briefly on Zidian. (What does he think he's going to do? Whip him? Ridiculous!) "It's Zewu-Jun. He has requested your presence at the Library Pavilion."The brothers spring up, exchanging sharp glances. Lan Xichen did— "Both of us?""Zewu-Jun said?" The boy presses himself against the wall. "Ah, Hanguang-Jun arranged the meeting, but Zewu-Jun asked m-me to fetch Sect Leader Jiang—""And why wasn't I told about this earlier?!" Jiang Cheng surges off the bed, shoving Wei Wuxian aside as he hobbles over to the mirror. He looks like shit but he didn't bring any clothes with him, and if Lan Xichen is already waiting— "Goddamn it. Seriously though, shouldn't I have been told about this sooner?""Jiang Cheng, you can't speak to him like that! Look, he's already shaking. Hmm, they really should have sent A-Tao... oh well. It's okay. There there," Wei Wuxian coos, scooting closer to the poor boy and not helping whatsoever. "Ouyaaang, don't be scared! Sect Leader Jiang isn't scary at all. Look at him! He's all bark no bite. Ah—don't cry, don't cry!"Jiang Cheng watches him bully the boy into a hug, though he doesn't seem to mind, allowing himself to be swallowed up by Wei Wuxian's arms as he hides from him.His brother's head snaps up, grinning toothily. "How mean! Scaring our poor little baby Ouyang like that!"He spreads out his arms. "I didn't do anything.""...'m not a baby.""He's the junior's junior," Wei Wuxian explains to Jiang Cheng as if he had asked. "One of our newest disciples. Oh dear, oh dear, we have to make sure you grow up braver than this, Ouyang-er! How else are you going to fight fierce corpses and ghosts if you're scared by someone so harmless?""...scarier."Jiang Cheng isn't sure who he's supposed to be more offended by.After shooting them both a glare, he turns to focus back on sorting out his appearance but sighs at the sorry state of his clothes. Muddied and wrinkled, and stiffened oddly by the dried rainwater. It's definitely good that Lan Qiren won't be the one to see him, but he isn't exactly thrilled that he's going to have to see Lan Xichen like this either. Even dressed in his best clothes, he always feels like a dirty smudge standing next to the Gusu Lan."This will have to do, I guess," he mutters."Why are you primping? It's not like Xichen-ge cares.""...""Ahhh, your reputation, right? Should I come? Then no one will care what you look like."He pauses at the door but shakes his head. "No, it's alrig—""They'll be too stunned by my beauty to pay attention to anything else then! Isn't that right, Lan Zha—oh. I forgot he wasn't here. Wait, wait! Jiang Cheng, why are you—"Slam! He heads out towards the Library Pavilion, fighting a smile himself with each step. It must be masochistic of him to be able to enjoy Wei Wuxian's ridiculous antics, but slipping back into these old rhythms is comforting. Especially after that... troubling conversation. Jiang Cheng halts mid-stride. Oh. He's going to see Lan Xichen. That's right. After learning all of this about him, he's going to actually see him in person, and for whatever reason, Lan Wangji agreed to arrange this meeting for them. He hadn't thought about that.
(Lan Zhan probably won't want me telling you this—)
How is he supposed to face him and Lan Xichen after hearing all of that?!The door cracks open. "Huh? You're still here? You're going to be late you—whoa." Wei Wuxian stares at the man practically running away from him, arms pumping madly as he carves a path through, scattering dozens of frazzled disciples either side. "Would you look at that? Hey, A-Cheng! Why don't you just fly if you're going to run like that? Hahaha!"The distant figure merely shakes a fist at him, not stopping once. Wei Wuxian cackles."S-Senior Wei?""Ah, Ouyang! I'd forgotten you were here. You're so quiet. Come, come, let's go feed the rabbits okay?"It's only when Jiang Cheng is halfway there when he realises he didn't take an umbrella, and of course—of course. It's then that it begins to rain.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come.
If you were to ask Lan Xichen, does his brother ever smile? he'd say: of course he does, but only when he's really happy. It wouldn't be lying to say that Lan Wangji saves his smiles for his happiest moments, sharing them only with the people he holds closest to his heart.There is one other occasion where he might possibly smirk. Possibly even snort. His overall expression might not change much, but his eyes will be dancing. Lan Xichen tries his best not to fidget. This is his first time meeting with someone outside their clan in over a year though. It hadn't occurred to him how badly out of practice he was, but now he feels almost nervous with anticipation.Before, he would rarely need to set time aside to prepare for meetings. As long as he knew what was on the agenda, he'd be able to carry on a full discussion with the other party right off the bat, and everything would go so smoothly that his guest would be none the wiser to any of it. This time though? He doesn't even know why Jiang Cheng has asked to meet with him in the first place, but the most concerning thing is that his brother looks oddly excited to meet with him too.Which he finds mighty suspicious.What not many people tend to ask Lan Xichen, is whether or not his brother has a sense of humour. His answer to that would be: more than you'd expect. As a child, Lan Wangji was never rebellious, but ever since he met a certain someone who apparently infected him with a certain taste for adventure... a monster was born.In all the most subtle ways, Wangji has become just as bad (if not worse) than Wei Wuxian in the art of mischief-making. He doesn't break the rules, no—he works around them, which makes it that much harder to stop him. It must help that he knows all the rules inside and out, Lan Xichen muses, which allows his brother to know exactly how to go about entertaining himself without incurring punishment. Perform acts of chivalry, he'd informed everyone one day, whilst carrying the retired Yiling Patriarch around the courtyard. Wei Wuxian had been of no help—happily allowing himself to be carried around, and giggling at everyone's dumbstruck expressions when they saw them. They aren't pets, he'd said when Uncle came to complain to him about the Cloud Recesses' rabbit population (which was rapidly growing out of control). They live outside. They're wild animals, he'd insisted, stroking one of these 'wild animal's' ears till its eyes slid blissfully shut. Usually, Lan Xichen sees no harm in his brother having a little fun every now and again. In fact, he thinks it's good that he's able to loosen up a little bit.But right now, as they sit waiting for Jiang Cheng to turn up, Lan Xichen wonders if he's been too lenient with Wangji, for him to think messing with Jiang Cheng is acceptable behaviour.He runs through the Lan Sect rules in his head with a fine-toothed comb, trying to find anything he can shake at Wangji disapprovingly, but there is literally nothing. Surely what Wangji has done must be against the rules. It has to be. Potentially embarrassing a guest, no less another Sect's Leader? That's a big no-no.Then again, he didn't outwardly set out to embarrass Jiang Cheng, and it's not as though he could have sent the summons any earlier than this morning, since it was agreed only last night (though that twinkle in Wangji's eyes makes Lan Xichen wonder if he could have). Lan Xichen reaches rule two-thousand-and-forty-nine when there is a sharp knock at the door."Enter!"
Shhlk shllllk shhhlllk...
Lan Xichen's jaw drops.The rich purple of those striking Yunmeng Jiang Sect robes has been darkened almost to black. Half of Jiang Cheng's hair has come loose from his bun and is plastered to his face. He is... he's shaking! At first, Lan Xichen panics, thinking that it's from the cold, but then Jiang Cheng lifts his head and—ah. No. He's just angry. Very angry. His face is like a thunderstorm, eyes so dark, lips so tightly pressed together they've gone white. His gaze sweeps over Lan Xichen, then goes straight for his brother like an arrow seeking its target. Jiang Cheng's lips pull back into a snarl. "You.""Sect Leader Jiang!" Lan Xichen exclaims, staggering sideways in his hurry to stand up. He ends up tripping on his robe and slamming back into the table. "What happened? Are you alright? Wangji!" Slapping Wangji's shoulder, he tugs at his sleeve till he slowly stands. "Quick, go get some towels! My goodness, you're soaked. Did you... did you get caught in the rain?"Jiang Cheng spits out a mouthful of hair. "What gave you that idea?""Didn't you have an umbrella? Did you walk? I thought you said you broke your foot??" Lan Xichen notices that Wangji hasn't moved. He nudges him. "The towels, Wangji.""Oh no, please. Don't bother," Jiang Cheng sneers, dropping to his knees on the other side of the table. The squelching sound makes Lan Xichen wince. "Really, I wouldn't want to trouble you."Wangji tilts his head. "Not a bother."Jiang Cheng smiles, but it's hardly pleasant. More like a dog baring its teeth.The two remain locked in a fierce staring contest for a full minute, after which Wangji turns heel and struts out of the Library Pavilion. Struts. Lan Xichen watches after him, utterly baffled. What on earth is going on?! When Jiang Cheng finally turns to face him, he hurries to pour him some tea. "Here drink this. It'll warm you up.""Thank you." Jiang Cheng mutters. When the mug is handed to him, their fingers brush and his hands are like ice. "You're freezing." Lan Xichen frowns. Jiang Cheng grunts, more interested in warming his hands than acknowledging the other Sect Leader. Lan Xichen considers this, then shuffles backwards to roll onto his feet. He stands slowly, then starts peeling off his outer robe—"What the hell are you doing?!""You need to warm up," Lan Xichen explains reasonably, unfastening the ties with nimble fingers. "Here," he says, walking around to drape the robe over Jiang Cheng's shoulders."I'm wet.""I can see that.""I'll get it wet!""That doesn't matter. You're probably really uncomfortable," Lan Xichen muses, drumming a finger on his lip thoughtfully.The way he is looking at Jiang Cheng makes him squirm with embarrassment. "I've almost been drowned by your blasted Gusu rains twice now. Of course I'm uncomfortable!""I meant your clothes. You'll need something else to wear during your stay. I suppose you didn't bring anything with you." "I wasn't planning on staying for long."As Lan Xichen continues to stare at him, looking more contemplative by the second, Jiang Cheng's red face darkens to a plum colour. "If it's alright with you, we have plenty of spare clothes.""That's really not necessary. It makes no difference to m—tsch!" Lan Xichen blinks. Jiang Cheng wipes his nose on his sleeve (much to Lan Xichen's despair). He opens his mouth again, but two more sneezes follow. Lan Xichen tries his best not to laugh, but he sounds exactly like a wheezing kitten! Jiang Cheng doesn't seem to notice his amusement, too focused on pinching his nostrils shut to pay attention to him."I must insist," Lan Xichen finally manages to say, biting his cheek. "You should change into something—""Would you stop? I'm from Yunmeng! Do you really think a little water is a big deal to me? Sit down and stop fussing!" Jiang Cheng's mouth snaps shut, and it's as though his brain catches up two seconds too slow. Scolding the esteemed Zewu-Jun like a child! He drops his gaze, anticipating some backlash.Lan Xichen merely sighs though, his smile dimming slightly. "It's not just 'a little water' though. You look like you were swam here from Biling Lake. I'm worried you'll get sick."That makes him scoff. "Sick? Why would I get sick from something like this?"Lan Xichen doesn't answer.It's then that Jiang Cheng takes the time to properly look him over. Had he not been so preoccupied with his epic disaster of an entrance he would have done so earlier, but now that it's just the two of them in the room, he has time to take in Lan Xichen's appearance. At first, he thinks: Wei Wuxian was exaggerating. There's nothing wrong with him whatsoever. He looks exactly the same. But then he looks a little more closely, and—ah. He can see it now.He tries not to stare."Fine," Jiang Cheng forces himself to say. "If it'd really make you feel better about it, I'd be grateful to borrow some clothes." He feels distinctly self-conscious, even just wearing Lan Xichen's outer robe. Even though it's nice to be warm again, it's still another person's clothes, which is weird. "Later though. For now let's just," he wafts a hand, "Get on with it.""Right," Lan Xichen agrees, sitting up. "You wanted to speak with me about something?"Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to answer.The door slides open with force.Lan Wangji strides into the room with a tall stack of fluffy white towels. He drops them on the table in front of Jiang Cheng and then stands there expectantly. When no response comes, other than Jiang Cheng wordlessly snatching two towels off the top, he finally turns to Jiang Cheng—and does a double-take. Wangji spins around to face his brother next, eyes widened as if to go: he's wearing your robe. Why is he wearing your robe?!Lan Xichen merely replies with a sharp look, which seems to take his brother even more by surprise. "Wangji," he says evenly. "We cannot allow Sect Leader Jiang to remain in wet clothes for the rest of his stay. Would you mind finding him some clean clothes to wear?"Lan Wangji stiffens.It seems like he would mind. Very much."Thank you for your kindness, Zewu-Jun," Jiang Cheng chimes in, speaking with an overly sweet tone, and not bothering to grace Lan Wangji so much as a glance. Even the frosty feeling of Lan Wangji's full-glare directed at him does little to provoke him. Eventually, they hear the door sliding shut, knocking gently into the jamb. He exhales with a puff of amusement. "I thought he'd insist on staying. I have to admit, I was rather surprised to hear he'd actually agreed to arrange a meeting for us."Lan Xichen smiles softly. "Wangji wasn't initially willing to do so, but I managed to convince him that you wouldn't ask to see me without good reason."Jiang Cheng pauses mid-sip, before carefully lowering his mug to the table. "It isn't for anything urgent.""I know. You said so in your letter, but Gusu Lan has promised that any call from Yunmeng Jiang, no matter how important, will always be answered," Lan Xichen answers. He raises his gaze to settle on Jiang Cheng, lips curving at the sides. "That promise extends to every instance, even if the only thing that is required is some advice."Of course, Jiang Cheng knows the terms of their alliance, having written a good portion of the treaty himself. Knowing as much as he does about it, he knows that personal affairs are not included in the list of agreements, and... doesn't this count as a personal matter since it involves Jin Ling? That almost makes it sound like something the type of advice he wants from Lan Xichen is the sort one might ask from a friend, rather than a fellow Sect Leader.He isn't sure what to think about that."I wanted to talk to you about Jin Ling coming to study at the Cloud Recesses," he admits, feeling rather foolish for demanding a meeting for something as trivial as this. (But this matters to him, a little voice argues. This is one of the last things he can do for Jin Ling before he leaves him for good. It has to be perfect.) Lan Xichen hums, gesturing for him to continue. "I'm expecting that he'll be part of this year's autumn intake, and whilst I already have a good idea of what your uncle will have planned, along with that I think..."They continue to talk for some time, with Jiang Cheng mostly explaining (in great detail) what he wants Jin Ling to learn, how he wants him to be treated, and the such. Lan Xichen only interrupts here and there with offered suggestions, sometimes giving his opinion when Jiang Cheng finds himself talking through several options and needing some input.All in all, it is oddly comforting to slip back into the normal rhythms formed from the many previous discussions they've had together.Whilst yesterday Lan Xichen found himself confronted (and bewildered) by the sudden revelation that Jiang Cheng, away from his formal duties, was a completely different person than he'd expected—this here, it's comfortable. It's familiar, and in a way, he finds himself surprisingly glad that the first person he's met since going into seclusion is Jiang Wanyin, if only for the fact that it's reassuring to know what to expect from him.Because for all the ways he is different on paper (and when talking to his nephew), this person here, the one he's talking to, is someone Lan Xichen knows very well.They have worked together for long enough that it's easy to follow Jiang Cheng's thought process, and he often finds himself able to guess where Jiang Cheng is going with this, or why he's fretting over that. Lan Xichen finds himself relaxing slowly but surely, as he watches the man across from him running through a comprehensive list of what he thinks his nephew needs off the top of his head.It hits him that he does know Jiang Cheng.Beyond being Sect Leaders and formal acquaintances, they have fought as allies too, and seen each other through various hardships. He knows how to read him on the battlefield, what formations he prefers his men to use for a strategic attack, when he's likely to use Sandu over Zidian (or vice versa), and how likely it is that he's hiding worse injuries than he claims to have gotten from the medics.He also knows the pattern of his thoughts, the cadence of his words—how Jiang Cheng looks and sounds when he's stressed, angry, or sad. How he will react to certain people or situations, how he will refuse to budge on certain topics and will avoid others completely. He knows him, Lan Xichen realises, like the dawn cresting over a mountain, and even after a full year of not being around him, it's gratifying to find that he can still read Jiang Cheng as well as previously. He is as forthright yet self-conscious as ever, but what Lan Xichen finds himself most grateful for is the fact that this brusque, harsh man he is talking to, is treating him just the same way as he had before.Even though he's pretty sure Jiang Cheng can quite obviously see that he's... he's changed. He's different. He's not—"—your brother will be coming back anytime soon? Sect Leader Lan? Hello?"Jiang Cheng clicks his fingers, snapping Lan Xichen out of his daze."What?" he blurts, eyes widening when Jiang Cheng's narrow at him. "Pardon me, I meant to say—what was it you were asking?""I asked if your brother will be returning anytime soon," Jiang Cheng repeats, twisting the ring on his finger. "He's been gone for a while now.""I don't know," he replies, checking the door as if expecting by doing so his brother will appear like magic. He turns back to the table, lifts the lid of the teapot and finds it empty. How long have they been talking for? It's only now that he realises that the stack of towels has been cut down.Jiang Cheng seems to have taken a few more to wrap himself up with, swaddling himself in them like a cocoon. So he is cold, Lan Xichen thinks, eyeing Jiang Cheng's clenched jaw. That simply won't do. He makes to stand. "Come with me. I can find you something to wear."Jiang Cheng doesn't move. "That's not what I meant. I was just asking because I—I was hoping that, I thought I might..." His mouth twists into a grimace. "There's something I need to discuss with him too."Ah.Lan Xichen threads his fingers together. So the situation isn't as hopeless as he'd thought! Even now, just watching the way the two were interacting before, he was relieved. Some might think it was a sign that they were working up towards a proper fight, but all Lan Xichen could see was two children stomping around each other, peeking at each other from behind their hands to see who would give in first.It almost makes him want to smile to think of the two of them that way because it's clear to him that Jiang Cheng is genuinely sorry about his offence, and Wangji doesn't know how to behave around him either. "I'm sure you'll get the chance to talk to him later," he says, "But for now, maybe... give it some time. I think he's simply trying to give both of you a little breathing room."The younger man leans away from the table, clearly taken aback. Lan Xichen doesn't understand his confusion. In his letter, he'd clearly stated that he was planning to 'make things right' between himself and Wangji. Perhaps he forgot that he'd told him though? Jiang Cheng indeed looks oddly stricken, and when Lan Xichen makes a little questioning noise to enquire, he ducks his head to avoid his gaze. Oh, is he ashamed? Or embarrassed?Lan Xichen cannot really tell."You heard about it then?" Jiang Cheng clears his throat when his voice wavers. "You know what I did?""You did mention it in your letter," Lan Xichen says, somehow managing to avoid sounding accusing. The two men fix their gazes in opposite directions for a while, before Lan Xichen decides to bridge the gap by confessing to something that has been weighing on his mind for a while now. "Actually, I... I was taking a walk outside that day. Around the same time as you and Young Master Jin went on a walk too, I believe. I may have accidentally overheard a few things you were talking about."Jiang Cheng's eyebrows fly up. "You were eavesdropping on us? You?""I repeat—I accidentally," Lan Xichen stresses, "Overheard you talking. By accident." He studiously ignores Jiang Cheng's incredulous stare. "Anyway, I don't think you have anything to worry about. If what you wrote in the letter is true, then I... I think you'll both be fine. It was, after all, a simple misunderstanding."A simple misunderstanding? Jiang Cheng sputters in disbelief. "I accused your brother of something to the effect of 'leaving you to rot', and you think that he's going to forgive me that easily? Do you have any idea how angry he was with me? How angry he probably still is—?""I can imagine, and clearly you've been thinking about him a lot too." Lan Xichen quirks his own brow. "You wouldn't be thinking about him so much if you didn't care."Jiang Cheng's mouth snaps shut. He can't deny that he has been, or that he... he... yes. Lan Xichen smiles triumphantly, but then he softens. "If you were to ask me what I thought about the situation, I'd tell you that the most important part of any apology is the feeling behind it. If you aren't sincerely sorry for what you have done, then what is the point of apologising at all? It is meaningless then."Something that so many people tend to forget is that what you feel in here," he taps his chest, "Matters just as much as the apology itself. Reaching out it is the next step, and finally—apologising.""And if I don't apologise?""Hm." Lan Xichen props his elbows on the tabletop. "As adults, we like to think that after a certain amount of time things don't matter anymore. We depend so much on others forgetting that they've been wronged than seeking their forgiveness, that ill feelings are not dealt with at the source, and over time they tend to fester. I would say that that is where we go wrong—by relying on others to forget when we ourselves cannot. By ignoring others' pain to protect ourselves."In my opinion, apologies do matter, and it's always worth giving them a shot, even if you don't think they will be accepted. After all, what is there to lose by trying? At least then, you can say that you've tried."They both do not speak for a while as Lan Xichen's words seep into everything. As whole decades worth of regrets being stowed away rise to the surface, and forgiveness that has been shoved aside in favour of moving on, latches onto them with both hands.It's true what he's said: that leaving it to time to soothe old wounds is always the easier option, but is it the best option? Minimal effort is required, and you don't make yourself vulnerable by waiting on someone else to decide whether to liberate you (or alternatively burden you with more guilt), but the guilt you already had remains and grows heavier over the years.As Jiang Cheng mulls over this, Lan Xichen shifts on his knees and then slides sideways to sit, his restless fidgeting absently drawing his attention back to him.He's still trying hard not to stare at him, but this time it's more difficult. They've been talking for a while now, and whilst Jiang Cheng is fine with continuing with their discussion (even if he is uncomfortably wet), Lan Xichen looks tired by it. He's not quite listing to the side, but his shoulders have drooped and he's leaning heavily on the table for support."Isn't it worrying when the children are the ones giving the adults advice?" Lan Xichen says, shaking his head ruefully. "When they try to tell you that the meaning of life is going on the ultimate adventure, or searching for your one true love—Jingyi," he explains, when Jiang Cheng pulls a face. He snickers then, and Lan Xichen smiles. "When they say such things, I do despair, but sometimes—sometimes they are remarkably good at reminding us what is important in life. Your nephew, Young Master Jin is... he has a good heart."Jiang Cheng doesn't follow at first, but then he remembers that he overheard him and Jin Ling. On the one hand, he hadn't exactly enjoyed being scolded. On the other, he's glad that Jin Ling feels comfortable enough with him to even try doing so. Not many would dare to confront the feared Sandu Shengshou about his behaviour problems, but Jin Ling is... he has a surprisingly strong sense of justice (despite being a spoilt brat), and whilst his boldness verges on recklessness at times, Jiang Cheng will never berate him for doing what he feels is right (even if he's the one Jin Ling is accusing of being wrong).All he's ever wanted Jin Ling to be are the simple things: good, honest, and true. But this humility? This sense of righteousness? Where did Jin Ling learn it from, he wants to ask. Is it from his mother's blood flowing through his veins? Is it from his Lan friends rubbing off on him? Or is it just him?Wherever it comes from, he wants to nurture it. Wants Jin Ling to grow up to be just as kind and considerate of others as his mother was. To inherit her resilience would also be a blessing. Maybe it came from Jin Zixuan? He was righteous too, even if he hadn't seemed it at first.Both of them would be so proud of him (but no one is as proud as Jiang Cheng)."I learn so much from him, every single day," he hears himself saying quietly. When he hears Lan Xichen murmuring in agreement, his head snaps us—only to find him smiling fondly at him. Jiang Cheng flushes, and he twists the hem of his robe between his hands, squeezing a few drops of water out. "You know, I think I'm blowing this way out of proportion. Overcomplicating something that shouldn't be that complicated."Lan Xichen shrugs noncommittally. "Maybe.""I'll try it then. Even if it changes nothing. At least then I can say I've tried.""That's the spirit," Lan Xichen beams. Jiang Cheng's face instantly pales. He swallows a couple of times and then his eyes begin to glaze over, startling Lan Xichen. Did he do something? Why does he look like he's seen a ghost? "Sect Leader Jiang?"He's seen this shell-shocked expression many times before, on those who have survived a terrible battle, and on himself whenever he catches sight of his own grief in the mirror.Reaching across the table, Lan Xichen catches him gently by the wrist. "Jiang Wanyin?"That snaps him out of it. Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, looking rather dazed. When he realises what has happened, he yanks his wrist from Lan Xichen's grip. Lan Xichen makes not a sound, not a single movement. He merely averts his gaze to the side until Jiang Cheng has regained his composure. "About Jin Ling," Jiang Cheng says in a thin voice, redirecting them back to the topic at hand. "Talking to you about him has made me realise that... I would really prefer he learns some things from you instead of from your uncle.""What things?"“Well, what we were talking about earlier, but also,” his expression becomes grave, prompting Lan Xichen to pay more attention, "Certain things that cannot be learnt from books, or at least not learned best from them. He's growing up but he's still young. Not yet a man but getting there. He needs someone to teach him how to handle the sudden changes in his life, and how to deal with the expectations others have of him. “People will be pressuring him to do certain things, and I don't want him to be so unprepared when they do that he doesn't know what to do in that situation. When you're young and inexperienced, there is always the temptation to give in just so that you can fit in. I want him to know it's not worth bowing down to those sorts of instincts.”“Wouldn't you prefer to be the one to teach him how to handle these things?” Lan Xichen asks, feeling rather flustered by the request. “Isn't that the type of thing an uncle would want to teach his nephew?”Jiang Cheng scoffs. "You think he'll want to learn about these type of things from me? Jin Ling barely listens to me, and even then—only when he wants to. No, it's better he learns from someone who is known to be better at controlling themselves than me."And that someone is supposed to be him?Lan Xichen must be pulling a very strange expression because Jiang Cheng looks rather concerned. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I was just wondering if you'd be open to the idea. "He shakes his head numbly. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't want to. I would be honoured to help him learn how to deal with these... changes. But the thing is, we have a really large, extremely comprehensive collection of reading material here at Cloud Recesses that he can always use to satisfy his interest... at his own leisure. “We don't tend to bring those sorts of topics into the classroom, or even into private lessons—actually, especially not private lessons. It would be improper to do so, you see. Children get so easily embarrassed when talking about these kinds of things—""Improper? Embarrassed??""Well, yes? And considering who Young Master Jin is, it would be especially unwise to single him out for something like this. Please try to understand, the reason why we don't want to include these sorts of lessons in the curriculum is that, well... when you're trying to teach teenage boys how to focus their minds on cultivation, giving them such things to think about is just asking for disaster. Those temptations you talk about have the tendency to get in the way of their progress. It becomes difficult then, for them to concentrate fully on everything else we want them to learn. You don't have to worry about it becoming a problem though. As you are aware, we have a zero-tolerance policy regarding any type of bullying, so if Jin Ling feels pressured... why are you looking at me like that?"Jiang Cheng is frowning. "What are you talking about?"Lan Xichen blinks. "What are you talking about?"Jiang Cheng waves an arm around. "About teaching him how to be a good leader of course, and how Jin Ling would do well to learn how to handle the pressures associated with it from someone like you.""Oh.""What were you talking about?" Jiang Cheng repeats, narrowing his eyes. It's horrible. Lan Xichen can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He figures it out far too quickly for Lan Xichen to be able to do anything other than stare at him in mounting horror. "You... you thought—""You were talking about him growing up and handling 'changes in his life'!" Lan Xichen exclaims in self-defence. "And temptations, on top of that! What else was I supposed to think?!"To both their surprise, Jiang Cheng lets out a snigger, and soon is shaking from the force of his laughter. "You thought—!""W-Well I..." Lan Xichen would be annoyed that he was being laughed at, he would be... if it weren't for the fact that this is possibly the first time he's ever seen Jiang Cheng laugh at something he said, and it's nice to hear him laugh so freely. He chuckles a little, not so embarrassed that he cannot laugh at himself.Once Jiang Cheng has calmed down, he returns to sitting upright though his lips are still quivering a bit."I've not had that talk with Jin Ling yet, but as you said, he's a teenage boy. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon enough." He pauses, eyes going slightly wide and unfocused. "Actually, now that I'm thinking about it... maybe I should talk to him, just to be safe. After all, much though I'd prefer to not think about it, he does have that bastard Jin Guangshan's blood flowing through his veins..."It's Lan Xichen's turn to laugh. "Well then, I have to say I am relieved that that wasn't what you were asking. However, do you really think it wise to have him learn how to be a good leader from 'someone like me'? After all, I'm hardly a good role model for anyone, considering..."Jiang Cheng watches as Lan Xichen trails off, all traces of humour gone from his face.All of a sudden he looks washed out in all his white and blue, the blood washed out of his skin making him seem even more jade-like than usual. He is caught now, unable to stop himself from noticing all the little changes in Lan Xichen that he'd noticed before, and cataloguing them in his mind. Though he is still the epitome of masculine beauty, he is somehow lacking compared to what he used to be. It isn't so much a physical change, but the sense that something vital about him has been lost. He looks thinner, but not to the point of becoming a concern.The most surprising thing is how he looks like he's aged—not enough to look like an old man, but enough that Jiang Cheng can notice it. But the most worrying thing, by far? His spiritual energy, which Jiang Cheng notes, is barely half what it should be. It's as if it has receded deep inside of Lan Xichen, fading to the extent that barely a glimmer of it is visible on the outside. Qi deviation, he hears a voice whisper in his head, but Wei Wuxian was right. This doesn't look like what the books describe. The energy inside Lan Xichen isn't coiled tightly, lashing out of him like a beast trying to break free. On the contrary, it's shrunk and dimmed.Weak, Jiang Cheng thinks. He looks so weak."Forgive me," he says suddenly, "I hadn't even considered whether it was against the rules of seclusion to ask this of you, and yet I still asked it. Please, forget my request."To his surprise, Lan Xichen snorts. "Rules? Am I not here already, meeting you?"Jiang Cheng hadn't considered that either. It must show on his face because Lan Xichen laughs lowly."You know, I think we should really make it clear what seclusion is actually about because everyone seems to be under the impression that I am bound in isolation. For now, let me explain it to you: there are no rules confining me to any space. There is nothing I am not allowed to do. Seclusion is merely when someone withdraws from society. That's all it is."Jiang Cheng frowns. "If that's all it is, then why have you not been seen out of Gusu for over a year? If you are free to come and go as you please, why haven't you?"He can understand his confusion—his reputation of being a sociable person seems at odds with his choices if what he claims is true and seclusion is his choice. Lan Xichen stops to consider what his reasons are. There are too many that he is not willing to admit to, but some that he can name without feeling too much like he's bearing his soul."Look at me, Jiang Wanyin," he says, holding out his arms to display himself.He's expecting Jiang Cheng to flinch and look away, but the man continues to surprise him by simply gazing at him, seemingly indifferent to his appearance. Lan Xichen isn't bothered by it either, which is why he doesn't mind using it as an excuse, but he can tell that whilst Jiang Cheng doesn't look disgusted by him, he is curious. What with him being from the purple house[1], he must be able to see what's going on better than anyone else.Lan Xichen wonders whether he can understand what is happening to him, because as of yet, no one else can. He drops his arms but holds Jiang Cheng's gaze as he continues: "Think what will happen if I go out like this. Think of what people will say. With the way I look right now, I'll be seen as weak. Whilst that isn't such a problem in of itself, it will reflect badly on my clan."His face slackens in instant comprehension. If there is one topic that Jiang Cheng will always be able to grasp instantly, it's the importance of face[2] and what effect a person as distinguished as Lan Xichen losing face may have on his clan. As soon as Lan Xichen realised how bad his condition was getting, it became clear to him that his seclusion (which, up till that point, had been his choice) was now the only option he had. He would be revealing his weakness to the world if he were to go out in public looking the way he did, which would be asking for trouble. On the other hand, as more time passed, he began to realise that there was no winning by hiding away either.It looked bad from every angle.With Lan Xichen remaining in seclusion for so long, those looking for any opportunity to target his clan were beginning to see his continued absence as a sign that the Cloud Recesses was ripe for the picking. If Lan Xichen were to abdicate (like the elders kept pressuring him to do), that wouldn't look good either because it would imply that there were some internal struggles going on within his clan, meaning it was unstable and again—vulnerable to those wanting to attack. If he were to die, that would be no better. The outcome would be the same.There's no way to win that he can see, but Lan Xichen waits to hear what Jiang Cheng has to say.But of course, what can he say? He looks like he's struggling to find anything at all. Denial. Dismay. He doesn't look like he wants to accept what Lan Xichen is saying, but then he notices that Jiang Cheng also doesn't offer empty platitudes to console him. "That may be so," Jiang Cheng finally says, scraping his hair off to one side of his neck. "But if you're concerned about what people think, you must also consider that those who don't know what actually happened at the temple are starting to form certain opinions about you." Does he really think Lan Xichen isn't aware of this? He's about to speak, but then Jiang Cheng rubs a hand over his face, slumping wearily."That is one of the things I hate most about people. The less they know, the more they talk." Raising his head slowly, he meets Lan Xichen's gaze. "The longer you stay out of the picture, the bigger these things grow."He knows this too, but Jiang Cheng is warning him out of concern. Oddly touched by this, Lan Xichen bows his head. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness," he says, but does not say anything else.They lapse into another silence, during which Lan Xichen wonders why they keep wandering so far off-topic.As if reading his thoughts, Jiang Cheng drags them back to what they were talking about before. "Whether you decide to teach Jin Ling or not, can I at least tell you what additional things I would like him to learn, so that you may pass them onto whoever will be teaching him?" Additional things? Lan Xichen thinks. Already he has had to memorise no less than thirty extra lessons (in such detail that it boggles his mind to think about it) Jiang Cheng wants to be added to Jin Ling's schedule, and now he wants more? Does he intend for Jin Ling to sleep at all, during his time at the Cloud Recesses? How many more things do you intend this boy to learn?! He nods though, gesturing again for Jiang Cheng to speak.It becomes clear that the type of things he wants Jin Ling to learn 'leader-to-leader' is nothing like what Lan Xichen was expecting, and the more he listens to him, the more he leans in with interest, because a lot of what Jiang Cheng is asking for resonates deeply with him.He starts by stating that whilst Lan Qiren is an excellent teacher in cultivation and has done a fine job of helping lead the clan in his brother's stead, he still doesn't know what it's like to actually be a leader, because the types of things his clan expects from him are so different to what is required of a leader.One example of a difference between him and them is that—where Lan Qiren is thanked for his contributions towards the clan at the end of the day, for those like Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen? They aren't thanked. It's expected of them to put their clans ahead of everything, and regardless of what they might want, their desires must always come last.Jiang Cheng claims that whilst he has always known there would be intrusions to his personal life when he first became Sect Leader, he was unprepared for how much his people would demand from him.That, in particular, strikes a chord with Lan Xichen. His decision to go into seclusion was met with fierce disapproval. Some even called him selfish for doing so, citing him as the perfect example of a son following his father's footsteps. He hadn't cared at the time and still doesn't care, but the damage done was irreversible.Even if he were to recover from this, his fall from grace is likely to sully his name for the rest of his days. Some say that for a leader to shirk or abandon their responsibilities, even in the direst of circumstances, is unacceptable. The loss of face is enough to make death seem preferable—for some. But not for Lan Xichen. He still doesn't care. Seclusion was what he'd needed, so it was what he'd done. If it was really so selfish to want to take some time to heal after the blow he'd been dealt, then he was selfish. He was, he is... he—"So, if I'm understanding you right, you want me to show Young Master Jin how to... how to cope with the pressure of leadership?""Yes," Jiang Cheng nods, looking pleased. "And before you ask, why you and not me, I am not the best example of someone who knows how to deal with people.""And you think I am?"Jiang Cheng glares. "Until now, yes. I think you are. Because even despite this," he gestures around, "And everything that's happened to you, you're still much better at understanding people than me."Lan Xichen stands from the floor. "Why would you even say that?"Jiang Cheng's scowl deepens, and he leaps to his feet to match him in height. "Because it's true? You think that just because Jin GuangYao pulled the wool over your eyes for so long that you're the only one he deceived? He did that to all of us, Zewu-Jun—""Please, don't call me that.""—Lan Xichen," he corrects seamlessly, "You are not to blame for what happened. He was just far too good at manipulating people.""Please, don't talk about him."Jiang Cheng exhales loudly. His fingers twitch, his thumb tucking inwards to rub against Zidian. "Will you please just listen to me, then? What I'm trying to say is—why you and not me?" He barks out a laugh. "Because you may have made one mistake, but I've made too many to even count. I came into leadership thinking that I'd know how to handle myself. “Little was I to know that the people whispering in my ear didn't always have my best interests at heart. I listened to them though, because I didn't know better. I let their words colour my thoughts until I couldn't tell what I felt from what they told me to feel, and it ruined so much, and I..."Eyes growing wider by the minute, Lan Xichen feels as though his feet have grown roots. Why is Jiang Cheng telling him this? Something which, by the sound of it, he hasn't told many people (if anyone) before? The answer comes to him: because he's that desperate. Because he cares so much about Jin Ling that he doesn't care if he's losing face to Lan Xichen, so long as Jin Ling benefits from it.(Maybe because there's no one else he can tell?)Fair enough. He can respect that.But why is he—does he need to dig so deep? To bear his soul to him like this? It's too much. Lan Xichen doesn't know what to do to make him stop."They told me things, and I believed them," Jiang Cheng rasps, his voice like shattered glass. "They knew—everyone knew how I felt about him, and they used it against me."There is no doubt who 'he' is.Lan Xichen shifts uncertainly on his feet. What they'd used was Jiang Cheng's well-known inferiority complex. You didn't need to be from Yunmeng to have heard of Madame Yu's legendary temper, and the fact that the reason for her jealousy was her husband favouring Wei Wuxian over his own son (and Wei Wuxian's mother over her).What must it have been like growing up in that house? Young ears hearing all of their arguments, listening to each comparison between himself and Wei Wuxian laid out in the most unflattering of ways.Was it any wonder that Jiang Cheng suffered from it? The insecurities any child faces growing up, compounded by his brother's growing success, and his father lavishing praise onto him. His own words fed back to him: we depend so much on people forgetting that they've been wronged than seeking their forgiveness, that ill feelings are not dealt with at the source, and over time they tend to fester.That's what happened to those two, wasn't it? Those ill feelings Jiang Cheng kept inside were never confronted, and Wei Wuxian—the carefree soul that he is—did his best to pretend they didn't even exist. Lan Xichen's heart aches because he knows what it's like to have a brother, and he has no doubt that these two love each other as much as he loves Wangji. As good as he is at guessing, he cannot begin to imagine beyond the bare bones of their relationship how it must have felt to have a brother he loved but couldn't compete with. Wanting desperately to forget that divide, but knowing that he couldn't so long as a thousand things remained unspoken between them."You know what the worst part is? Not what they did. What's worse is that I let them do it. I let them turn me against him. I was so glad that there were people on my side for once, asking me to put him down, that I didn't even realise that they were just using me because they wanted him dead.""Jiang Wanyin—""Or did I realise?" The sound he makes is pure anguish. "Was I just so selfish that I didn't care?"Lan Xichen stares helplessly as the man battles with himself. What is he supposed to do? What can he say?Finally, Jiang Cheng seems to snap out of it (he hopes)."I don't want Jin Ling to ever lose sight of what matters. Or to forget which are the people he should trust."Two towels slip to the ground, but Jiang Cheng doesn't seem to notice. His fists are curled so tightly that a trickle of red curves around his knuckles, but his eyes are strangely soft and sad. More filled with remorse than burning anger. This is an old pain that he must be familiar with, to be able to command it so easily.Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, his jaw clenching. "Lanling is a den of wolves, but the rest of the world is just as bad. He is so young and unsure of himself. They will use that against him at every opportunity."Lan Xichen takes a step towards him, coming close enough that his foot brushes against the discarded towels. "I understand your concerns, but how exactly do you expect me to teach him what to do? As you said: the world is full of bad people, but they come with many different faces. There's no way of protecting him from everyone, and as you know, there are some lessons you can only learn from bitter experience."Jiang Cheng pulls at the towel over his shoulders, smearing it red with his fingers."I know that, and I agree that he will have to learn from his own mistakes, but teaching him where to bend, and where to stand tall. Teaching him how to look out for people's true intentions, and how to recognise when he is being pushed into a corner. These are things I wish I'd been taught, or at least been made aware of. “He is already facing so much, that anything—anything that will help him, I want to give to him. When people say I'm being overprotective or that I should allow him to make mistakes 'just so he can learn' from them, they don't understand..."They don't understand that when people say that making mistakes should be allowed, they are talking about small, insignificant things. Cutting your feet to know not to run without shoes—that sort of thing.The mistakes a leader makes are never small, and what those people will never understand is that the consequences of making them can last a lifetime. That is the burden of leadership: having to take responsibility for everything, and for everyone. Being the figurehead of your people, having to bear the brunt of everything and never be praised for your efforts...How do you teach someone how to know who to trust? It's an impossible lesson to learn, and yet without any guidance, you are essentially in the lion's den. Is he really the best choice to guide Jin Ling? It's not as though Lan Xichen wasn't given advice at one point during his life. He simply chose to ignore it.Harden your heart, Uncle had said, and he should have, he should have, and the consequence of having not done so, the weight of it all is... it's agony. "They say Jin Ling is just like me." Jiang Cheng lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "I don't want him to be like me. I don't want him to repeat my mistakes."Seeing a proud man like Jiang Cheng practically quaking at the thought of his beloved nephew walking in his footsteps... it's certainly a wake-up call.Lan Xichen takes the last few steps to bring him toe-to-toe with Jiang Cheng, and carefully untangles his bloody fingers from the towel. He's mildly surprised when he's allowed to take him by the wrist, and lead them back to the table to sit down. Again, another awkward silence falls, but Lan Xichen needs a moment just to think.As Jiang Cheng wipes his hands on the ruined towel, Lan Xichen wishes there was a good way of refusing him, but... Jiang Cheng adores his nephew. He wouldn't choose something like this without being at least ninety per cent sure it was the right decision to make. If he really thinks that Lan Xichen is the right person to teach him, he must have his reasons for that. For the life of him, he cannot think what that might be, especially considering recent events, but..."I will consider it," he hears himself saying, prompting Jiang Cheng to look at him expectantly. "But I make no promises. I still do not think it is a good idea."Jiang Cheng looks like he is about to protest again, but he halts midway. The way he's looking at him, Lan Xichen wonders why he stopped. Then he finds himself fighting back a yawn. He flushes when the yawn escapes him anyway, and immediately apologises."No, I think we should probably finish here. We've been talking for quite a while now," Jiang Cheng says, still looking at Lan Xichen strangely. "Shall I go find your brother, or will you be alright?"Find Wangji? Lan Xichen doesn't understand at first, but then—ah, he must think that with the way Lan Xichen looks right now (weak weak weak), he needs assistance. He would be right in thinking that, but Lan Xichen doesn't want to admit to it."I'll be fine, thank you.""Are you sure? I don't mind—""Remember what I said before?" Lan Xichen reminds him gently. "A little space for now. Later, you will have more success talking to him.""I don't need to talk to him to bring him to you."Lan Xichen bites back another sigh, but doing this coaxes another yawn out of him. It's barely noon! He cannot bear to look at Jiang Cheng right now, far too embarrassed. The thud of him landing on his knees beside him catches him off-guard, and then Jiang Cheng is peering up at him from his side. He stifles the urge to shove him away, mortified by what he must see."It really isn't a problem." Jiang Cheng lifts a hand, but he leaves it hovering mid-air just before the red-smeared tips touch Lan Xichen's pristine robes. From here, he can see that the palm of Jiang Cheng's hand is cut open and Zidian is glowing faintly purple.His hand hanging there in front of his face reminds Lan Xichen of something, and suddenly he blurts out randomly, "How long have you been practising calligraphy?"Jiang Cheng's arm retracts. "What?""You... the letter you wrote." Oh god, is he really doing this? Lan Xichen internally smacks himself several times. Outwardly, he slaps on his best smile. "I couldn't help noticing that your brushwork is exceptional.""I beg your pardon?"Why does he sound so offended?"You—you write good?"This time Jiang Cheng's whole body shifts backwards, his expression twisting into one of—oh no. Is that anger or annoyance? Lan Xichen panics inside. He may know Jiang Cheng better than he thought, but he doesn't know him well enough to know what that expression means! It could be anything!"Are you serious?" Jiang Cheng demands, his voice laced with something."I am!" he insists, leaning forwards for emphasis. He pulls the letter out of his sleeve. "See? This is just—it shows you have excellent control of the brush, yet your movements are so carefree..."Jiang Cheng stares at the letter, appearing rather stunned to see it. He takes it from Lan Xichen, but when he looks at the paper it's painfully obvious he doesn't have a clue what Lan Xichen is going on about."Tell me, how did you write it?" Lan Xichen presses. He frowns. "How do you mean? Like—""Like how were you holding the brush? Were you at the desk, or...?"The confusion remains, but Jiang Cheng humours him. "Well, since Jin Ling was refusing to let me leave the bed, I asked him to bring me the writing equipment and I sort of... put it on the floor and hung over, you know? Like this." He tries to demonstrate on the table, but then must realise how ridiculous he looks doing so, and scrambles off. "Okay, not like that. I was basically lying on my front on the bed and hung over the side so I could write on the floor. Make sense?"Lan Xichen laughs at his description, but not unkindly. "I see. Well, that's precisely what I meant by you being talented.""Talented?" Jiang Cheng says the word as if it is foreign to him—and then it dawns on Lan Xichen that he hadn't actually said that. Damn."Well yes," he babbles. "To be able to control the brush in such a position with your arm unsupported. It's a difficult skill to master. Very impressive.""It's just writing.""It's calligraphy. It's art. You might consider practising it."Jiang Cheng looks like he doesn't know what to say so Lan Xichen decides to end it there. He tells him to not worry—that Wangji will have left clothes for you in your room. He's not so cruel as to leave you with nothing to wear. Jiang Cheng seems even more sceptical of this, but agrees, and thanks him when he reminds him to take an umbrella with him this time.As soon as Jiang Cheng has left the Library Pavilion, Lan Xichen properly slaps himself on the forehead.What a stupid, stumbling, bumbling fool he has made of himself. You write good? Jiang Cheng must think he's lost his mind. Then he remembers Jiang Cheng clambering over the table to try and show him how he'd written the letter, and he—he giggles. The letter flutters to the floor, but he catches it before it lands.Maybe they're both idiots?He tucks it back into his sleeve and slowly droops forwards till his forehead knocks gently into the table. What happened to him being good at making friends?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"...a-ah Zewu-Jun?"Lan Xichen springs up so fast his head feels like it's been thrown at the ceiling. Dizzily, he turns around to where his three little ducklings are peeking at him from around the door. Are there three of them, or six, or six-and-a-half? "Yes?""We saw Sandu Shengshou leaving," A-Tao explains, shoving the other two ahead of him. "So we were wondering if you might like us to accompany you back?"What sweet, sweet children!Lan Xichen smiles and its effect is like sunshine on a patch of flowers. The three relax instantly and scurry over. On the way over, A-Ming nudges Ouyang aside, uttering lowly, "Not you. Go grab the tea-things to take back. Don't give me that look. Shoo." Ouyang wilts, but obediently goes to collect the mugs. The other two boys fetch the umbrellas, giving Lan Xichen time to gather his bearings."Zewu-Jun," A-Tao says, once they are leaving the Library Pavilion. "How did the meeting go? Did it go well?"How did it go? Overall, it went well, but all Lan Xichen can think about is the last two minutes. You write good. Jiang Cheng's bewilderment and scepticism. It's art. You might consider practising it."...Zewu-Jun?""Ah, yes. It was... yes."Yes? That isn't an answer. The juniors shoot each other confused looks, but Lan Xichen merely shakes his head. Their curiosity is palpable, but even more tangible than that is the horrible feeling Lan Xichen gets, that he's really messed up. Calligraphy? Talented? Him?Ha!Jiang Cheng scoffs, angling the umbrella to better protect him from the slanted rain.
You might consider practising it.
Is Lan Xichen serious? As if he has the time to be practising calligraphy. He's far too busy, Jiang Cheng tells himself. Too much to do to waste his time on... on—
It's art.
Your brushwork is exceptional.
He almost trips over a flagstone.Exceptional? When has anyone ever called someone like him exceptional? Jiang Cheng has always thought that if he were to be praised, he'd soak it up and feel empowered by it, but this... this is just confusing. It doesn't sound right, and no one has complimented him for his brushwork before, of all things.Lan Xichen looked sincere (and eager about it?), and for some reason, Jiang Cheng almost wants to believe him. What reason would he have for lying to Jiang Cheng over something like this? If he has seen something in him worth pursuing... maybe it's like what he said about apologies. If it's worth pursuing, why not try? What is there to lose by trying?Wei Wuxian has often pointed out to him before, that (before he becomes even more of an old man, he should really consider that) with him being unmarried, childless, and with Jin Ling planning to move out soon, he should find something to do to fill his days.At the time Jiang Cheng had replied by telling him to kindly fuck off, and then adding that he'd just fill his days with catching up on all the sleep he's missed over the years. Wei Wuxian said he might as well swim with the fishes then because that amount of sleep would take a lifetime to recover. Old man, Wei Wuxian had written to him, there's more to life than work and more work. Do something you enjoy! Find a new hobby! Having fun keeps you young! Then he'd drawn a picture of Jiang Cheng hobbling around waving a walking stick at two running youths, and he'd also labelled the youths as me and Lan Zhan. Nonsense aside, Wei Wuxian did have a good point. With Jin Ling leaving, it freed up a lot of Jiang Cheng's schedule, and aside from work he... it would be nice to find something he liked to do. But calligraphy?(Why not calligraphy?)Jiang Cheng is fully aware that his bachelorhood has become a running gag amongst the Cultivation Sects, with many female cultivators having (allegedly) blacklisted him.His Council has never lost hope though, and have continued to issue requests on his behalf over the years (to no avail).All throughout Jin Ling's life, there have been fierce debates between the elders of both Lanling Jin and Yunmeng Jiang over whether he was qualified to inherit either clan through blood. Yunmeng argued that he spent so much of his life in Lotus Pier that he owed it to them to inherit Jiang Cheng's place, but Lanling argued that he was technically theirs through his father's bloodline (which trumped Jiang Yanli's, according to the system of inheritance).Now that Jin Ling is leaving though, and with his position secured as the Sect Leader of Lanling Jin, that leaves Jiang Cheng heirless. That puts the pressure on him and his Council to find a solution, and... ah. Maybe he does need some sort of hobby to deal with this. The thought of having to go through another load of matchmaking interviews, ugh... Jiang Cheng kicks open the door to his shared room. It's empty. Jin Ling must be out with his friends.He looks around, and lo and behold: no clothes. Turns out Lan Wangji is cruel enough to leave him with nothing to wear. What a fucking surprise.Jiang Cheng stomps over to sit on the bench under the window and sulk.Marriages. He hates the thought of marriage. He hates being pressured to look for a 'suitable partner' from a list of people he's never met, knowing that in all likelihood each meeting will end with him being firmly rejected. It's not as though he puts his heart into each attempted matchmaking, but it is still a blow to his self-esteem to be given a flat no every single time.The Council retracted his statement fairly early on (once it received such a negative response), but most of the women who agree to meet with him still come purely out of interest, wanting to see who this man really thinks he is, asking for this ridiculous list of requirements from his wife-to-be.He remembers the night when he wrote out that list.At the age of twenty-two, half-asleep after a full day of trying to get baby Jin Ling to fucking stop grabbing everything and yanking it down. (He wasn't sure whether it was worse than when he was younger and would shove everything into his mouth, because: choking-hazards versus being crushed to death by bookshelves? What a choice!) He’d been trying to train the newest lot of disciples only to find out that most of them were too afraid of him to actually pay attention to his instructions. He was given the form to fill in late in the night, and by that time he wrote down whatever came into his head, and what he came into his head was A-Jie.Get him someone like A-Jie. Someone good and kind, and capable of handling him at his worst. Get him someone who will be able to help him, please god please. Get him someone who will be kind to Jin Ling.That's what he wrote, in short. All his requirements based on the woman he missed most of all. He'd scribbled it down and shoved it at them, and—Why was it so badly received? Why was it so hard to find someone like that? Was he really asking for the impossible?[Attempt the impossible, though. That's their motto. That's what the woman would be marrying into.]Jiang Cheng realised pretty soon: it was because no one was as good as his A-Jie.Because what he wanted wasn't a wife, but someone to help him with Jin Ling. Forget about producing an heir. He wanted Jin Ling taken care of. And he wanted... he wanted...The Council is going to come after him again, with renewed vigour now that he is—now that there is nothing and no one to take up his time.Jiang Cheng drops his head into his hands. He still doesn't want a wife.What woman would be stupid enough to look at him and think yes, that broken man over there, the one who never smiles and has a rotten temper, I want him.All he can picture is himself getting angrier and angrier with each rejection, and it becoming less a running gag and more an actual problem when his clan realises their Leader is really that undesirable. Maybe they'll kick him out, figuring that preserving the bloodline of someone as unpleasant as him is asking for trouble. Maybe they'll be so desperate that they throw any woman at him, maybe even pay them to do the deed, and then abandon him when he's done his duty—when he's produced an heir. It's all they want from him anymore. He knows they can't wait to get rid of him.(Maybe at this rate Jin Ling will be inheriting another Sect to lead. The poor boy.)Does Lan Xichen face the same pressures as him, he wonders? But the man ranks first on the list of eligible bachelors in the cultivational world. Surely his situation is opposite to Jiang Cheng's, with hoards of women begging to become his wife....come to think of it, that actually sounds worse to Jiang Cheng. Nightmarish!If that's the case though, why then has Lan Xichen never made any moves towards marriage? Or if he has, why Jiang Cheng hasn't heard about it? What does that mean? Were those attempts unsuccessful? Were the women he was offered not the right one for him? It could be that whole situation with the Lans wanting to be with their 'fated person', or whatever that was. Maybe it's because with cultivators having long lives, and with the Gusu Lan Sect practically inundated with promising young disciples, there was no shortage of potential heirs for Lan Xichen to choose from in the meantime. Lan Sizhui, for example, would be a definite possibility. Now he is thinking about it, in every way, there is less a need for Lan Xichen to hurry up about securing his line compared to Jiang Cheng. He has time to find whatever person is 'fated' for him, meanwhile Jiang Cheng—
Bam.
Jin Ling squelches into the room, kicks off his shoes and wrings out his ponytail with a grimace. He raises his eyebrows at his uncle's no-doubt exceedingly sorry appearance but stalks past him to root through his bags, because of course, he had the foresight to actually bring clothes with him.(It seemed that he had been planning on staying over at the Cloud Recesses for a while, so what was all this about Jin Ling being 'too busy with Sect Leader duties' then? Was he really just slacking and coming to visit his friends whenever??)Jiang Cheng's mood sours even further just thinking about that. This day cannot possibly get any worse—"S-Senior Jiang!"Still not used to them calling him by a new name, Jiang Cheng turns slowly to the equally-as-ruffled boys standing at the door. Lan Sizhui smiles weakly as he carries a small pile of towels into the room and puts them onto the bed. "How did the meeting go, Senior Jiang?"Lan Jingyi follows him, but instead of going to the bed, brings his pile of things straight to Jiang Cheng and awkwardly stands in front of him waiting.Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at his offerings and then bristles. "What is the meaning of this?""They're clothes, Uncle?" Jin Ling drawls, ignoring Jiang Cheng's cutting glare. "You know. Things you put on your body—""Shut up. Whose clothes are those?" Jingyi winces but steadies himself. "Mine?"Jiang Cheng feels a vein bulge in his forehead. "Senior Jiang," Lan Sizhui interrupts, echoing the soothing tone his uncle likes to use (he must have picked it up from him). "Hanguang-Jun asked if we would bring you some clothes. Hopefully, they are alright for you to use for the meantime whilst we will take your clothes to be cleaned—""No, I get that. Why his clothes?" he demands, pointing at Jingyi, who instantly withers. "Why not yours?"Sizhui blinks. "Mine?" "You're the tallest out of you three," Jiang Cheng points out. Whilst Jingyi has managed to grow a couple of centimetres, bringing him almost to the same height as his friends, Sizhui and Jin Ling then continued to grow as well, meaning that Jingyi has remained the shortest of the bunch. Jingyi sputters and looks an inch away from spitting out some very un-Lan-like words. "Ah, Jingyi... Jingyi has a lot more spare clothes than me," Sizhui explains, shooting his friend an apologetic look. "He tends to... need them more.""Ha!" Jin Ling chortles, making Jingyi turn an even darker red. "Spare clothes! What a baby!""Ignore him," Jiang Cheng cuts in, reluctantly taking the clothes from Jingyi to distract him from retaliating. "Jin Ling has more clothes than most women. Take that as you will."He leaves the three bickering to go change in the adjoining washroom, but immediately realises that whilst the many layers of robes the Gusu Lan wear aren't as difficult to put on as one might think, they don't have much give, and Jingyi is short. It looks ridiculous, and it's so tight—"Uncle, let's see—ahahaha! Oh my god, oh my god! Where is Uncle Wei? He needs to see this!""Jin Ling," he grits out, a crackle of lightning bursting from Zidian. "You better shut up right now!"His nephew is too busy rolling about laughing to care how dangerously close he is to losing both his legs. The Lans are no better, with Jingyi's face gone purple from having to hold in his laughter, and Sizhui biting his lip so hard it's gone white. "All of you, scram," Jiang Cheng hisses, pointing at the door. "I mean it. I have things to do, and if you lot are going to be so distracting you'd better get lost—for god's sake, A-Ling, will you shut up? It's not that funny! Oi, you!" he clicks a finger at Sizhui, "Take this idiot somewhere far away from me, understand? A-Ling, I don't want to see you until you've remembered what it means to respect your elders!""But I'm leaving tomorrow." Jin Ling plants his hands on his hips. "Are you sure you don't want to see me before I go?""Remember faster then," Jiang Cheng snaps automatically, though it's obvious he wasn't expecting this news. He quickly changes his track. "Come find me in the morning with a better understanding of what filial piety means!""We'll see you tomorrow, Senior Jiang," Sizhui promises, saluting him quickly and hurrying to tow away the other boys before Jin Ling can put his foot in his mouth.He's a good one, that Lan Sizhui, Jiang Cheng thinks, as he flops onto the bed in defeat. So much for face. So much for pride. The juniors are starting to catch onto the fact that Jiang Cheng rarely acts on the threats he tends to throw around, and it... it fucking sucks! "Fuck," Jiang Cheng mutters, squirming when the seam of his pants pulls at his groin, and he hears the sound of a thread snapping somewhere around the shoulders. "Fuck this, I need a nap."He closes his eyes to the unsightly, uncomfortable world he is confined to and draws his mind to a point. He pictures himself to be a continuous stream, a tiny trickle of water feeding into a larger river, then journeying downwards towards the sea. Sliding like a snake across the land, cutting through hard rock and soft green pastures.With each stretch of the distance he covers, little bits of himself are taken into the soil, the roots of plants, the bellies of animals. He feels his mind dissipate, spreading out to encompass everything that the river feeds, becoming a part of all the living and non-living things he comes across. By this point, Jiang Cheng has sunk deep into the mattress, and even deeper into meditation, and as he seeks inner peace, he—The thought comes to him again: cultivators live long lives.Cultivation methods like meditation strengthen the spirit, prolonging their vitality. Just like his brother, Jiang Cheng doesn't dedicate much time towards meditation or the less combative cultivation methods, but even with the techniques he uses he will likely manage to live a long life.
But what if that means he can no longer use spiritual energy?
Lan Xichen... can he even meditate? Can he even cultivate anymore?When the river meets the sea, Jiang Cheng feels like there is little of him left in the current by now, with so much of him scattered across the universe. He really needs to practise meditation more, because this... he doesn't know what to do here. It's rare that he ever reaches this point of detachment from his sense of self, and now... the little of him that remains is like a handful of fine sand caught in the tide, and it finds itself being tossed around by wave upon wave of doubt, worry, and distress.Just moments ago, he thought to himself: Lan Xichen has time. He has more time than me. But is that really true? He remembers how he looked, how much he's deteriorated. Does he really—?Outside he is unaware of how much tossing and turning he's doing, but inside it is this motion that spins him every direction, his core sinking like a pebble to the bottom of the sea. He wakes when a very familiar cackle startles him out of the sea. Out of the sucking tide, the swirling currents, the churning, dark waters. He's already disorientated, but when he opens his eyes only to find Wei Wuxian practically coughing up a lung with how hard he's laughing, Jiang Cheng feels even more lost."Wha—?""Oh my god, A-Ling was right! You look like — like... ahahaha!"Jiang Cheng's mind returns at once at the mention of Jin Ling. So he actually went to get his 'Uncle Wei' then? Leaping half off the bed, he grits his teeth when his foot throbs in protest. "I'm going to kill that brat.""Break his legs?""Break them. All of them.""Hahaha, oh my god, how many legs do you think Jin Ling has, Jiang Cheng? Please stop! I can't breathe!"Muttering under his breath, "I will break his legs first, then Jingyi's, then Sizhui's—""Oh no, not my A-Yuan! What did he do?""Nothing. Not a damn thing." Pause. "Actually, he didn't give me his clothes, so he won't be walking either."Wei Wuxian continues chortling as he wipes his eyes. "My, my, how terrible! Before you go about crippling the next generation though, would you mind telling your good shixiong why you're wearing Jingyi's clothes?" He cocks his head, expression switching towards being more considering than mocking. "Also, would you mind telling me why you also... don't look so bad in those colours?! Are you telling me that the secret behind Gusu Lan producing the most handsome men is their clothes?" "I've literally said nothing of the sort."Wei Wuxian hums, shaking his head. "Can't be. Lan Zhan looks just as good out of them—"
"Urgh!"
"—if not better. And what about me, then? Already this gorgeous in black and red—"Jiang Cheng makes a lunge for his throat but almost topples over when the robes restrict his movement and he overbalances. Wei Wuxian catches on immediately and starts the second round of raucous laughter. "Oh my god! How are you breathing? Can you even move at all? Hahaha!" He rolls around on the floor, legs kicking everywhere.Jiang Cheng feels as though the too-small-robes are choking him, exactly the way he wants to choke this goddamn fool laughing at him! Veins bulging in his throat, he roars, "Come a little closer, I'll show you how far I can move!"He scoots off the edge of the mattress, landing hard enough on his brother to knock his head into the floor. Wei Wuxian immediately lifts his hands in surrender, but Jiang Cheng jabs two of his lesser meridians which prevent his abdomen from expanding fully. He coughs instantly and the laughter cuts off. Thank fuck. Jiang Cheng rolls off him and ignores his sputtering, feeling no guilt whatsoever. He'll be fine within an hour, the big baby."A-Cheng," Wei Wuxian wheezes, rubbing his stomach. "How mean! When I came all the way here to check on your foot—""Bullshit. You came here to laugh at me. Asshole.""No, really. Let me see." The idiot wriggles across the floor like a worm to reach Jiang Cheng's ankle. Watching him, it's no wonder that even Lan Wangji (who would probably love to see the idiot in Gusu Lan whites) hasn't pressured him to wear his clan's robes. They'd be ruined so fast, he'd put Jingyi to shame with how many robes he would need! Wei Wuxian hums, prodding his foot and bending the ankle. "Looks good.""It's fine," Jiang Cheng dismisses. An injury as small as this will probably heal by tomorrow. "Get off me.""How did the meeting go?"Jiang Cheng sighs. "Why does everyone seem to know about the fucking meeting? It wasn't even anything important. Anyway, I thought it was against the Lan Sect rules to gossip?"Wei Wuxian widens his eyes dramatically. "Jiang Cheng," he says.He waits, but when his brother continues to stare at him, he rolls his eyes. "What?""You are the first person Zewu-Jun has seen or spoken to outside of the clan since he went into seclusion. Of course, everyone is talking about it!" Wei Wuxian barks out a laugh at Jiang Cheng's unimpressed expression but returns to his previous question. "So how did it go? Don't tell me you went to see him wearing that!" he grins, clearly wanting the answer to be yes. "Don't be stupid. This is all your dear husband's fault."Wei Wuxian beams, clasping his hands together. "What did he do?"Kick. "Ask him yourself!""Okay, okay, but really—how did it go?"Jiang Cheng shrugs. "Fine, I guess? Just talked to him about Jin Ling's studies, and what I want them to include in his lessons.""Oh no. Please tell me Zewu-Jun's first meeting after going into seclusion wasn't spent discussing lesson plans. Please, Jiang Cheng. That's too depressing!""That's what the meeting was for.""How did you not bore him to death? Who knows? Maybe he'll seek seclusion again," Wei Wuxian laments. "Did you whip out your schedule too? Oh my god.""I did not!" Had Jiang Cheng known he was coming to the Cloud Recesses for longer than a day visit, he would have known to bring more than the clothes on his back, and he most certainly would have brought his schedule if he was planning to meet with Zewu-Jun, but there's no way he's going to admit that to Wei Wuxian. "And he wasn't bored. It was fine.""And how was he?" Wei Wuxian asks, sobering up a bit. He places a hand on Jiang Cheng's arm. "What did you think?"Jiang Cheng tries to keep a blank face as he thinks back to the moment he saw what his brother had warned him about. His spiritual energy far below the range a high-level cultivator like him should have, and just... everything about Lan Xichen seemed less than before. As if he was fading right before their eyes."Mm," Wei Wuxian nods, squeezing his arm gently. "You get it now.""He..."Jiang Cheng doesn't know what to say. Seeing Lan Xichen like that—the main reason he stopped the meeting (apart from the fact that they'd basically covered what he wanted to talk about) was because he'd been yawning like a child who'd missed nap-time. If Lan Xichen had been tired before, by then he must have been exhausted. It was disturbing to think that one of the best cultivators in the world has been brought so low, and by what?"He got tired easily. Is it grief?"Wei Wuxian hums. "Maybe it is, but how much of it is grief, we don't know. Whatever is happening to him seems to be acting too fast to be—""Grief can make you tired. All the time," Jiang Cheng interrupts, his mind flying back to the first few months where he was utterly alone.How he got through that period in his life remains a mystery to him. So lost he was to any emotion beyond anger and abject loneliness, that he could barely sleep. Even when he did sleep, he felt as though he was an incense stick on its last inch. Tired just from living, and so sick—so tired of life, and being alone."If the grief of losing two sworn brothers is as bad as losing real ones, then I can't imagine... it may take longer than any of us think, to get over something like that.""But even at your worst, A-Cheng, were you ever like he is right now?"All of a sudden he feels like his brother has crossed a line.They don't speak (or haven't spoken) about the thirteen years when Wei Wuxian was dead. Though he's sure his brother has talked to his husband all about how he spent those years grieving, Jiang Cheng cannot stomach thinking about those dark times, even in the privacy of his own mind. If he were to tell his brother how far he fell, what would he think?All the faceless people Jiang Cheng dragged back to Lotus Pier and whipped with Zidian till the walls were streaked in blood. All those lapses where he cannot remember what he did, sometimes for whole months at a time, so detached from life he was that he became numb and lost to everything—"No," he lies, and thinks no more on it, shutting the lid on the festering past, and meeting his brother's worried gaze with a bland stare. "Never.""So... what do you think is causing this then?" his brother asks quietly, leaning back against the bed. "I mean, from what you can see, do you think—""Not qi deviation," Jiang Cheng says immediately. If there's anything he is sure of, it's that Lan Xichen's symptoms do not fit that diagnosis. "His spiritual energy... it's nothing like the texts say.""What did it look like?""Faded. Weak, like a candle fighting a strong breeze. And it... it looked like it was leaking out of him. Not from the core," Jiang Cheng adds quickly. A jolt of pain hits him in the chest, just from mentioning a core, and the thought of it being drained away. Melted, he hears instead, ripped out, destroyed. He swallows thickly. "Not from the core.""Jiang Cheng," his brother mutters, pulling him till he is tucked under his arm. Ridiculous. Wei Wuxian is far too small to be the one holding him. Jiang Cheng allows it. It's not as if he can escape him. The man is so clingy, he doesn't know how Lan Wangji can stand it. "Even if it doesn't fit the symptoms of qi deviation, isn't it possible that it's another form of it that we have not seen yet?"Tonelessly, "What do you mean?""The texts say that there are several ways to reach the point of qi deviation. Obviously," he holds up one finger, "Cultivating the wrong path, but also," another. He continues counting fingers, "Getting cursed. Being exposed to dark magic. Being poisoned by a demonic creature. There are more, but do you see what I mean? There are so many ways that have been documented, but who's to say that those are the only ones that exist? Could it not be grief that has created a new form of deviation?"Jiang Cheng shakes his head. "It isn't qi deviation," he repeats firmly, the pain in his sternum spreading down his torso, radiating in waves that end in numbness. "Do you not believe what I said I saw? Even though I agree that there are possibly other ways to deviate—the symptoms, Wei Wuxian. They don't fit. Deviation is always a build-up of spiritual energy to the point of self-destruction. This is literally the opposite."Wei Wuxian purses his lips but seems to be considering Jiang Cheng's assessment, rather than outwardly rejecting it. He mulls over it for a few minutes but then moves on. "So if it's leaking from the dantian... where is it going to? How does that even work?""How would I know?"He'll have to take a closer look to see where the qi is flowing to, but for now, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes.For once, Wei Wuxian seems to know to back off, but merely loosens around his brother's shoulders and doesn't let go. It's sort of... nice, to be held. Grounding. He inhales slowly and exhales even more slowly. In and out, in and out. The ache in his chest eases, slowly but surely, and when Jiang Cheng next opens his eyes, he finds himself lying on the bed. His brother is scrubbing the blood from his fingertips, and his palms are already bandaged up. "Hey, how are you doing?"He hums, blinking twice. He feels like shit, to be honest, but that's what tends to happen after you've narrowly avoided a panic attack. He kept his head above water this time, but just barely. "How long was I out?""Not long." He pours Jiang Cheng a cup of water, and then stands there watching him drink.Jiang Cheng drains the cup, then shoots him a glare. "What are you still doing here? My foot's been bound." Holding up his hands. "And it seems you've also taken the liberty of wrapping my hands. Just because I'm unconscious—""I was waiting to ask you something.""Was it for my explicit permission before touching me?"Wei Wuxian huffs. "No. Is it okay if I tell Lan Zhan about what you saw? About Xichen-ge's dantian losing energy I mean." Jiang Cheng frowns. Why wouldn't it be? Wei Wuxian bites his lip. "I think it might really help with the investigation."The investigation? "You're actually going?""Yes? Why wouldn't we? We literally talked about this just yesterday, remember? I mean, the first part of the plan was to consult the Nie Sect about qi deviation, but if what you say is true then maybe we can skip that. Although, it's always better to gather as much information as possible before crossing anything out, and we already got a letter to take—"Jiang Cheng barely hears him rambling on and on. He doesn't know what to say, stuck on the thought that they... that he... You're actually listening to me? he wants to ask. You're telling me that your Hanguang-Jun has also agreed to listen, and is going on my word? Lan Wangji—the man who resents my very existence? "I thought...""Mm? What did you think?"He shakes his head, unable to explain the strange fluttering in his chest.When was the last time something good came from literally anything Jiang Cheng has ever said or done? He can't be sure if there has ever been a time when that happened. More often than not, his ideas have been cast aside in favour of others, and even more often than that, his suggestions have gone completely ignored.Early on in life, Jiang Cheng learnt that his opinions simply did not matter and what came out of his mouth was never what people wanted to hear. Compared to his brother, his parents, and even his gentle sister—he was always forgotten. Seen as the angry one. The ill-tempered one. The one who you shouldn't ask for help from even if you were on death's door because he was clearly a man ruled by his emotions. Unstable. Unwise.But this time, by some trick of fate, the same route did not lead to the same destination.Even though he'd raged at Lan Wangji and hurled blind accusations at him like a handful of daggers to the heart, despite all that, the man still... chose to respond to Jiang Cheng's cruelty by (sort of actually) agreeing with Jiang Cheng. Even Wei Wuxian (who has never once heeded Jiang Cheng's warnings since the time they were boys running around Lotus Pier) has admitted to him now that: even though your words were hurtful, rude, and really not very nice, in a way they were also sort-of... needed.He really doesn't know what to say.I didn't think you meant it. I thought you were only telling me what I wanted to hear. I didn't know you were actually going to listen to me.He hadn't thought they were at that point yet, where Wei Wuxian would care enough to tell him things and ask his opinions on them too. But that's what they're doing right now, aren't they? Discussing things, talking. Without realising it, these small steps were actually getting them somewhere. But their relationship was still so new that he really hadn't expected... he didn't know... and Lan Wangji, what about him?
If you were to ask me what I thought about the situation, I'd tell you that the most important part of any apology is the feeling behind it.
Is this another olive branch?Lan Wangji is a man of few words, but could it be... that the pissing contest from earlier was his own shitty way of 'reaching out to him'?At this point, Jiang Cheng cannot tell up from down. Hanguang-Jun isn't known for being childish or messing with people for his own entertainment, but that reputation of his is passed from mouth to mouth between people who have never met him in person. In all truth, what if he is capable of being petty? Jiang Cheng already knows he is capable of holding grudges, so it isn't that far of a stretch.What if... with the man that Wei Wuxian is, he's managed to corrupt the great Hanguang-Jun with his influence, and him taunting Jiang Cheng like that was—Actually, the more he thinks about it, the more it seems that... what Lan Wangji did earlier was pretty similar to what Wei Wuxian would have done (minus the incessant snarking, of course).When Jiang Cheng thinks back to their childhood and the times when their squabbling grew into actual fights, the aftermath would be a stalemate that sometimes lasted for weeks due to neither of them wanting to back down. Eventually, it would be Wei Wuxian who would break, deciding that he needed his right hand man to help execute his pranks and couldn't do without him a second longer. He'd drag Jiang Cheng back in by pestering him until he cracked. By this point, Jiang Cheng would already know they were on the mend, but he would resist it. It would start with Wei Wuxian teasing him until he was red in the face, and then he would back off and wait until he came to find him.Is that what this is? Is that what's happening, but with Lan Wangji using Wei Wuxian's tactics instead?Was Wei Wuxian the one who had suggested it?
You wouldn't be thinking about him so much if you didn't care.
"You know, I'm getting pretty sick of people zoning out on me. And what's worse is you left me hanging, Jiang Cheng. Finish what you were going to say!"Jiang Cheng snaps back to the present and finds his brother pouting at him. He clears his throat. "I thought you said the Lan brothers were in denial about this. I'm just surprised that they've decided to try and face it. That's... good."Wei Wuxian nods, smiling. "Well it's the Yunmeng way, isn't it? I've been trying to teach them as much as I can, but it's something you have to grow up with to really understand. To fight to the bitter end, right?" Immediately he balks. "Not that this end will be bitter. I didn't mean it like that! It's just that we're not giving up on Brother Xichen, and I think—I really think we can do this, don't you? Especially if the Master of Lotus Pier says so!""I think the worst thing we can do is not try."Jiang Cheng swallows dryly, his mind flashing back to his conversation with Lan Xichen. That's the spirit! Lan Xichen had said, but what Jiang Cheng had heard was his sister Jiang Yanli praising him and their new brother, still a child herself but determined to carry them both all the way home after their first-ever fight. He closes his eyes, sinking into the sweet warmth of that memory. Her words, her smile—both mirrored in Lan Xichen. All the encouragement and advice, and the infamous gentleness of the man had given Jiang Cheng something he's not had for so long: hope.(Hope for all the broken things he was trying to repair. Hope for the man himself, who Jiang Cheng had thought had been abandoned.Hope for himself too, who he'd also thought had been forsaken.)"Go on, then. Say it, Master of Lotus Pier."He doesn't need to see him to know Wei Wuxian is grinning, and leaning against him shoulder-to-shoulder, he can almost imagine they're of the same height and age. Two boys planning their next greatest adventure and pledging themselves to brotherhood... In the future, you'll be the Sect Leader. I'll be your subordinate and support you for the rest of our lives. Just as Gusu Lan has its Twin Jades, our Yunmeng Jiang also has its Twin Heroes! That fluttering feeling returns full-force, and this time Jiang Cheng thinks he can name it."Say it, A-Cheng!"Jiang Cheng opens his eyes. "We can do this."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.
Well, last night he did say to go "ask him yourself", so naturally that's what he's going to do.After he's had his fun, of course.Wei Ying lopes over the sodden landscape, delighting in every squelch and the explosive splash that comes every time he crashes into a puddle.Now that he's cultivated enough, it's a joy to play around in abysmal weather like this without having to worry about getting sick! Lan Zhan isn't going to be happy at all when he sees him: covered head to toe in muddy water, chilled to the bone and eyes bright with amusement—well, no. That's not right. Lan Zhan is always happy to see him happy, but as for the rest of it...Wei Ying, Lan Zhan will say sternly, that faint line creasing his forehead. Next, he will either drag or carry Wei Ying back to the jingshi to get him cleaned up, rushing (always rushing) to get him back somewhere he will be safe. It's only a bit of rain! he will whine, trekking mud and grass all over the place. Then Lan Zhan will draw him a bath—Wei Ying can go on and on imagining, but he wants to be there.He also wants to change things up a little.Every time something bad happens, it's always Lan Zhan who tries to do things for him to make it better.Whether it be comforting him, bandaging him, helping him research, playing him music, listening to him ramble, or simply being there with him, Lan Zhan will do it. Wei Ying loves that, don't get him wrong, but whilst he loves being pampered by his husband he also wants to pamper him. To give something back to Lan Zhan, even if nothing is owed between them. He wants to. He loves to.Seeing that spark in Lan Zhan when he is surprised, or the way his mouth curves into a shy smile... it's the best. And being the one to give it to him? Even better. It's hardly a chore to care for a man like him anyway, who wants so little and asks for even less. This past year has been difficult and having to watch his husband and brother-in-law struggling was even more difficult.Despite being married to Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is very aware that at least until after the wedding, he has to remain on the periphery of the family circle due to propriety. It would not be respectable for him to encroach on "family affairs", especially since most of the Lan Elders preside over such matters (and they are enough to make Lan Qiren seem pretty easygoing!).This wouldn't have stopped him before, but with Lan Zhan's reputation on the line... he can't. It means that there is a distance that he cannot cross, no matter how much he wants to. The Lan brothers stand at the centre, far away from everyone's reach.Whilst he tries to offer support where he can, the actual 'doing' part of the fixing?Not your responsibility, Wei Ying, Lan Zhan had uttered lowly, turning away from him to hang his robe on the chair. Did I not marry you? he'd replied, ducking under his arm to meet him face-to-face. Are you not my responsibility? He'd stumped him there, but even though Lan Zhan agreed, the rules did not permit it. Not the rules of seclusion (of which he was surprised to learn that there weren't any??) nor the Lan Sect rules, but some unwritten rules Lan Zhan had made for himself a long time ago. It was an area of his life that Lan Zhan refused to share with not just him, but everybody.He is my brother, he said in that same, impassioned tone he dipped into occasionally, and that was the point at which Wei Ying knew to back off. (Because he understood that some things, like the bonds between siblings, are sacrosanct. Doesn't the same rule apply to what is happening between him and Jiang Cheng? This thing that they are building together—Wei Ying would never allow another person to become a part of it. It is theirs.)He gets it, he really does, but it is torturous to watch the Lan brothers suffering and not be allowed to help. All he has been allowed to do (by both brothers' agreement) is try and find a solution, since it is (apparently) his speciality to solve impossible puzzles, finding out the unlikeliest ways to solve a problem.Embarking on this quest wholeheartedly, he has managed to read the library's entire collection of books and scrolls, covering everything from physical illnesses to blood-bound arrays to (four-page long, double-sided) magical incantations. He has tried his hand at a number of strange elixirs and potions (that no one can verify), spending hours poring over the properties of each ingredient, and tearing his hair out at the sheer complexity of it all. Despite all the work he's done, all he's managed to do was waste a lot of expensive materials and lose a lot of nights to dead-ended research. The answers aren't to be found in the library, he thinks, or if they are they're not to be found by him.When he came to tell Lan Zhan of this, his heart sank to his boots when Lan Zhan merely held him tight and murmured that he should go to sleep, you've done enough, A-Ying.But now they're trying something new, and Wei Ying is so relieved he almost wants to dance, because the reason for the change? Jiang Cheng sticking his foot in his mouth! Who could have thought?(If he'd known what effect his brother's tactlessness would have, he would have dragged him here sooner!)Ever since Jiang Cheng arrived at the Cloud Recesses, things got stirred up in a way that made Wei Ying question how long they've been standing still.It wasn't like him to have allowed things to settle as much as they had, but with the amount of work they've been doing and the stress of it all... he was overwhelmed just by the sheer amount of work that needed to be done. Hitting a wall over and over, he lost sight of everything, not even seeing that there was a wall in the first place. He'd forgotten what it was like to stand up and say no, this is not working, we need to try something else—and wasn't that the kicker?He, the Yiling Patriarch, famous for never failing to speak his mind (even at the worst possible times), forgot how to speak. Forgot that he even could. He was so focused on trying to be good for once, on not making waves by sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, that he let an entire year go by without putting his foot down!All it took was Jiang Cheng flying in on his sword at ninety-miles-an-hour for things to change, and thank god they did.(Wei Ying laughed to himself, barely heard over the splash of water. What an awesome puddle that was. Right above the ankle!)Ever since Jiang Cheng came, he almost felt like he could play around again, laughing and running about like he is meant to do. It was as if by his very presence Jiang Cheng allowed Wei Ying the freedom to regress back into childhood. Not that Lan Zhan was stopping him having fun, and not that he isn't himself with him either, but the way things are in the Cloud Recesses? It feels wrong to make light of any situation, in the same way cracking a joke during a funeral would be wrong.Lan Zhan's heart is heavy right now, which was understandable. He is too busy to run around with Wei Ying as much as he would like to, which was understandable. And he doesn't hold it against him, because if at the very least he gets to see him at the end of each day? That is good enough. So long as Wei Ying gets to see him every day, that's all he wants.Who would have thought that he, the wild child of Yunmeng, would be able to stand sitting for hours by his husband's side as he traversed the universe in his mind, and not completely hate the experience? He certainly hadn't, and yet... everyday means everyday. (Wei Ying sputters, choking on a mouthful of rain. That's what you get for laughing in the rain, he guesses. Bending with his hands on his knees, he hacks and hacks till his throat is clear, little giggles escaping despite the rawness of his throat.)Humour aside, those were his vows though. The ones he took, and the ones he holds onto most tightly. More than any of the other promises he made to Lan Zhan. Everyday means everyday—means every way, means everything.(Of course, it also means that too, but that goes without saying!)Even if it means sitting for hours watching his husband meditate. That's part of it too. Even if it means keeping his silence when he wants so badly to speak. Even if it means simply taking Lan Zhan into his arms at the end of a long day when he returns from the hanshi with bloodshot eyes and not even a word of hello.
(If you're going to always stand by my side, doesn't that mean I'll always stand by yours?)
Wei Ying eventually manages to bring himself upright again, rubbing his neck and grimacing at the prickle. Nothing is worse than accidentally inhaling water, and he's from Yunmeng. For shame!As he returns to gallivanting about he hears two very familiar voices over near the gate, and when he turns—sure enough, there is a tall figure standing next to a shorter one. He raises a hand to wave, but the two are... oh, that's right. Jin Ling is leaving today. He said his goodbyes last night, not expecting he would be up in time to see him off (but unfortunately, sometimes despite Lan Zhan taking great care to not wake him up when he leaves, he'll find himself unable to fall asleep afterwards).Wei Ying watches the two, smirking at the fact that Jiang Cheng is still wearing Jingyi's Gusu Lan whites. The man seems intent on lecturing Jin Ling about something, and Jin Ling is—oh dear, he's crossed his arms. He probably has his hips cocked too, with his nose in the air for good measure.Wei Ying narrates for his own pleasure since the rain is too loud to hear what they are saying. A-Ling, you better listen or I'll break your legs! Jiang Cheng's arm shoots out, perfectly in time with the threat. Jin Ling flips his ponytail. I'll believe that when I see it, Uncle. Jiang Cheng shifts the umbrella to his other hand. Wei Ying can't help smiling when his brother awkwardly goes to pat Jin Ling on the head, but the princess goes for a hug instead. For a moment his hands flutter above Jin Ling's shoulders, but then he reaches down to return the embrace.Soon Jin Ling is flying away on his sword, the sound of it cutting through the air akin to that of a sharp-blown whistle.Jiang Cheng stands there for a long time, even after the glint of gold has left the sky. Watching him, Wei Ying gets the feeling he probably shouldn't be doing so, but he can't look away either. Something about the moment has him caught.The dreary grey scenery surrounding him overcast with the buttery light of early morning, and standing there limned in that incandescent glow, Jiang Cheng almost looks like he's about to catch fire. He casts a long shadow over the gate, a dark wick to the flame of his tall, shining form. Even from behind, he can picture the expression on his brother's face. Mouth a firm line, but eyes soft and bright, even after all this time. Eventually, Jiang Cheng turns to leave. He spots Wei Ying immediately and lifts his hand in greeting. Nothing more is said, and Wei Ying doesn't approach him.After his brother has left, he returns to the path. As he's passing the meeting hall, he spots another lone figure seated at the edge of the room. An old man with an unfamiliar face, who looks like he's—his legs are sticking out! He's sat right at the edge with his legs out in the rain. What on earth...?Wei Ying stares, and probably sensing this, the man lifts his head and smiles at him. He must be waiting for a meeting or something, but... he thought all meetings were cancelled today due to the bad weather.That was one of the reasons why Lan Zhan was so busy, having to reschedule meetings and training activities for the disciples because the rain was so bad that no one (apart from Wei Ying, and this man's legs, it seems) wanted to be outdoors. Wei Ying continues to stare at the man, trying to mimic his husband's cold stare to the best of his ability (but probably failing miserably at it), hoping to... to what?If this is a guest, then being rude to him isn't going to win him any points with the elders. But what if he's an intruder?He looks suspicious.He waits to see what he'll do, but the man simply continues to sit there drinking his tea. He doesn't know how long he stands there waiting, but eventually, he realises that the man isn't going to do anything just because he wants him to. Finally, he huffs and decides to go tell somebody instead of bothering the man, because if he does end up being a guest and he's accidentally insulted him, his arms won't recover from the number of handstands he will be forced to do! On his way towards the Library Pavilion, he hears another lot of voices squabbling over something. Juniors! Wei Ying grins, picking up the pace to meet them as they come around the corner. Better yet, junior juniors!"—not even that scary. AaaAH! SENIOR WEI!"Snagging one junior under each arm, Wei Ying lets out a bark of laughter at their warbling shrieks. "C-C-Cold, Senior Wei!" A-Tao squeaks, gasping when the water starts seeping into his clothes. He stares at him in horror. "Why... you're wet!""Indeed I am, Tao-Tao." They both stagger away from him, trembling and wide-eyed like startled rabbits. "Where are you two off to this fine morning?" A thought occurs to him. "You're not with Zewu-Jun?"A-Ming wedges his hands under his armpits. "He told us to go get some breakfast and go study." The boy plucks at his cold, damp clothing, and does his best to not show it, but it's obvious that he's sulking. "Was there something you needed, Senior Wei?""Nope. Just looking for Hanguang-Jun, is all." Then he remembers what he needed to do! "Ah, by the way, were you aware that there is a guest waiting in the meeting hall? He looks like he may have been there for a while.""A guest?" Both boys exchange a look. "But meetings are cancelled for today..."He leaps at them, pointing. "That's what I thought!""Even if they weren't, Teacher wouldn't allow him to be left unattended in the rain."Wei Ying nods. The boys are right! Clapping his hands, "Not to worry, not to worry! This senior will go sort it out. Now, go be good boys and go eat like Zewu-Jun told you to."Before they can reply, he's already off running. This time every step is accompanied by a loud wet slapping sound and water kicks up everywhere.On his way back to the meeting hall he almost slips several times, and when he skids to a stop he actually does. There is no grip on such slippery floor, so he goes backwards and lands on his back. He flips back onto his feet immediately, legs planted wide to have better balance this time. With a flick of his wrists, he arms himself with a few talismans, and as he approaches the meeting hall from the back, he crouches low to the ground.If the man is an intruder, he has to be prepared. Even if the man is old, looks can be deceiving. In his head, he starts a countdown. Three... two... one!
Jump!
"A-ha... aaah?"The meeting hall is empty. Not good, not good. Wei Ying spins around, but the man is nowhere to be found. Where did he go? He almost goes in to investigate, but then that would track mud into the meeting hall, and then Lan Qiren will scold him to a second death. Where could the man have gone to, though? If he's an intruder, maybe he decided to skedaddle when he was seen by Wei Ying, thinking he'd be reported. Or maybe if he's still around, he's gone off to do whatever he came to do."Senior Wei!"Turning around, he huffs. "Didn't I tell you to go eat like Zewu-Jun said? Why aren't you at breakfast?"A-Ming has the umbrella both juniors are crammed under, forcing A-Tao to huddle closer. "You said there was a man? An intruder?""There was," he grunts, gesturing to the empty hall behind him. "But as you can see, he's no longer here.""Should we get Hanguang-Jun?!""No, he's busy, go... go get Jiang Cheng.""Sect Leader Jiang?!!"Waving a hand, "He won't mind. Just tell him what's happening and he'll come. Now, go!" Nodding, they scurry off down the corridor. "Oi!" They both turn around. "Where are you going? His rooms are that way!"A-Ming shakes his head, "Sect Leader Jiang was in the kitchens.""Hah?""When we went to get food, he was already there," A-Tao explains, cheeks reddening. "He... he cooked for us."
"Hah?"
The way things are run at Gusu Lan, disciples aren't allowed to go grab food at any time of day. It is part of the training (and one of the many rules) that you eat at meal times only. These boys must have skipped breakfast to go to the hanshi in the first place, but even with this as an excuse and Zewu-Jun's explicit permission to visit the kitchens, they must have been nervous to break the rules. When was Jiang Cheng there though?Was it—how is it that Wei Ying spent so much time looking for the old man, enough time passed for Jiang Cheng to cook the boys breakfast?! "He did," A-Tao nods, licking his lips. "It was pretty good."Wei Ying eyes him licking his lips. Of course it was good. He knows how well Jiang Cheng can cook when he wants to. The Jiang siblings have always had a knack for kitchen sorcery[1]."Alright, alright, go get him then!""Yes, Senior Wei!"After they have run off, he feels a little bit more at ease. It surprised him how quickly he has grown to like looking after the juniors (and their junior juniors), but he really does enjoy it. Though he would have never thought himself the type of person (adult?) to enjoy looking after children, they've grown on him just as much as he's grown on them. Wei Ying really does love the life he has right now, even if it's nothing like the plans he'd dreamed up in his youth. The excitement of the previous two years was plenty enough to satisfy his sense of adventure, and after all of this is over he and Lan Zhan have plans to travel the world together. This is just for now.He tells himself this: this is just for now, but part of him is... sad at the thought? Doubtful of it, perhaps?Not because Lan Zhan is against the plan, but maybe because he sort of is?At least, in a small way, he knows he's going to miss this. Though the Cloud Recesses can be dull, and the rules never cease to grow in number the longer he breathes, the people though... the people are good. Having somewhere to set roots down is good. The juniors—he likes seeing them progress, he likes helping them and guiding them in their cultivation. It's satisfying in a way he never thought it could be.What's important, he's come to realise, is that wherever they are and whatever they're doing, he and Lan Zhan are together. His place in the world is to be by his side, wherever that may be.So if that place is the Cloud Recesses (for now), that's... good? He's content with it?He is, Wei Ying realises. He really is.As long as being here doesn't suck out his zest for life, he's good. Wei Ying can't help but wonder though, has he changed because of all this? He wonders, not because he's worried, but just because. Over the decades he has changed a lot, he knows, but at the heart of him, is he still the same?If he loves this peaceful albeit rather boring life, does that mean that the fun-loving Wei Ying-of-yesteryear is gone forever? Grown up? The trickster he used to be rarely comes out now (unless he's teaching some tricks to the juniors), and his days of running around wild are... he still does what he wants, but he's not nearly as reckless as he used to be. Knowing that his safety is paramount to Lan Zhan, he doesn't seek trouble out on his own terms. Does that mean he's changed? Is he still him?Turning back to the task at hand, he tries to push those thoughts aside and focus on the problem at hand: the intruder.Scanning his surroundings, Wei Ying wracks his brain trying to recall what the man looked like. The only thing notable about him was that he was old and that he had a long beard. Not much to go on. Turning around in a full circle, he tries to think logically, asking questions like: why would an intruder come to Cloud Recesses? To have come during such bad weather means he must have had important business. Turning again, Wei Ying freezes.The man left something behind.He approaches the meeting hall, hands poised to throw talismans, but... it's just the tea things he was using.Ugh.Still, it might be something?Oh, who's he kidding. What's he going to find out from a tea set? Is there something to be read from the tea leaves? Wei Ying snorts, but after a little deliberation, he hops up onto the raised wooden floor and gingerly squeaks his way across. The cup is empty. No tea leaves. He crouches, lifts the teapot lid, and—oh. That's not tea. Sniff, sniff. "Wine? In the Cloud Recesses?"The man must have brought it with him. Where else would he get it? Wei Ying inhales the rich perfume, his eyes falling shut. Ah. That smells good! Like, really good. He barely pauses to think before pouring it out into the cup, and ahhh the colour is really nice too. What beauty! He sniffs it again, dips his finger in and swirls it. He should test it for poison... but that might ruin the taste. What he's about to do is incredibly stupid, and he knows it, but... but... "Just a sip," he tells himself, tipping the whole thing back. Eyes bulging, Wei Ying stares at the cup like it's grown eyes to stare back at him with. That is the best tasting wine he's ever had! "Even better than Emperor's Smile!"It can't be! But it is? It only takes moments for him to pour another, but as he's about to tip his head back—"Why am I not surprised?"
Pfffff—
"T-Teacher! You're back!" Wei Ying hastily wipes his mouth and swerves around. The man doesn't look happy to see him at all, as per usual. He peers down his nose at Wei Ying, face darkening as he takes in the mess. "What are you doing—I mean, what brings you here on this... this fine day?""The juniors were running in the corridor. I had to stop them."(Wei Ying winces. How many handstands is that worth?)"They told me that you'd spotted an intruder." Lan Qiren sends his steely gaze around, bringing it back down on Wei Ying when he's done. "What a surprise. There's no one around but you.""I did see him!" he exclaims, leaping onto his feet. The squelch that sounds makes Lan Qiren's eye twitch. "Teacher, I'm not lying, I swear! There was an old man sitting right here not a moment ago! He was drinking this, you see?" He points at the wine. "And he smiled at me. That means he saw me too!""Is that so," Lan Qiren wrinkles his nose at the smell. "And where is he now?""How should I know? When I came back he was already gone—" Wei Ying pauses, frowning. "You don't believe me, do you?""Of course I don't. This is exactly the type of nonsense you like to make up! Claiming an intruder came in, and on a day like this too? Preposterous!" Lan Qiren shakes his head. "For a while, I started to think you were actually trying to finally outgrow your childish ways, but clearly I was wrong.""Wait a second, Teacher, I'm being serious! He was right there—""Nonsense! You think I will believe you after what you did this morning?""What I did?" Wait, what? "What did I do??"Lan Qiren scoffs again, crossing his arms. "I arrived earlier this morning, and went to breakfast to meet with Wangji, only to find that the porridge had been tampered with by a certain person!"Tampered with? Spicy? Wei Ying stamps out the urge to grin at the thought of Lan Qiren sputtering over spicy porridge, but it's a very near thing.He... oh, he's definitely 'still him' if he finds even this type of low-grade prank funny. Maybe all this responsibility hasn't changed who he is then. Maybe he's still himself, but also discovering more of himself than he knew existed before. After all, he's missed out on thirteen years of growth and development.Perhaps the changes only seem like they are coming so suddenly right now, one after another because... because Lan Zhan has always known exactly who Wei Ying is and what he really wants. Maybe he's just been waiting like he always does, for Wei Ying to realise it for himself.But this isn't the time to reminisce."Not me!" He blurts out. "It wasn't me!" He wasn't even awake in time for breakfast. He'd rolled out of bed and headed out straight away to find Lan Zhan. "How do you expect me to believe that when I come here, only to find you muddying the meeting hall and drinking alcohol?"Wei Ying opens his mouth, but what can he say?Lan Qiren decided he was untrustworthy twenty years ago, and his opinion of him hasn't changed one bit. Not even Lan Zhan marrying him has changed his mind. His shoulders slump. He's been trying so hard for ages now, biting his tongue whenever he wants to say something he shouldn't, following the rules (or at least those of them he cares to remember), being as good to Lan Zhan as he can—"It was me."Both of them turn. Jiang Cheng is carefully folding the umbrella up but glances up at them both. He purses his lips. "Apologies, Teacher. I made the late-breakfast porridge this morning."Lan Qiren stares. "You?""The juniors were late and missed breakfast. I was already making some for myself at the time."Wei Ying looks between the two of them, stomach twisting anxiously (and with delight).Since Jiang Cheng is a guest (and a Sect Leader, to boot), Lan Qiren is less likely to be able to punish him for breaking (two!) rules to avoid either of them losing face, but there's no guarantee that that will protect him from the likes of Lan Qiren (knowing what he's like). The Lan elder seems to be at a loss for words, probably thinking along the same lines. Seeing this, Wei Ying scoots over to his brother, who shoots him an exasperated look."What's this about an intruder?"He leaps into an explanation, and this time even Lan Qiren is listening to him properly. He lifts the half-emptied cup to show his brother. "See?"Jiang Cheng sniffs the wine. "You drank this?" Wei Ying nods. He immediately gets slapped over the head. "You idiot! Did you even check it for poison?" He scoffs though, and after briefly hesitating under Lan Qiren's close scrutiny, takes a small sip. Smacking his lips, he nods. "That's not Emperor's Smile."Wei Ying grins, leaning closer. "It's good though, doesn't it?"Jiang Cheng licks his lips in answer. "If there is an intruder, he must be dealt with immediately." Lan Qiren eyes both of them, but decides on Jiang Cheng. "Sect Leader Jiang, would you mind going to collect the juniors from their classes? I will go find Sizhui and ask him to assemble a search party." He pauses, then sighs. "Wei Wuxian, if you can go find your husband, that would be... appreciated."Recognising that to be as much of an apology as he'll likely get, Wei Ying salutes him and immediately drags his brother away from the meeting hall. Jiang Cheng resists only because he's dripping wet, but he shifts closer till he's brushing elbows with his brother, finding it suddenly too cold to be out of the rain and walking at such a brisk pace.To his annoyance, Wei Ying finds himself having to lengthen his strides to match Jiang Cheng's pace. Oh, the woes of coming back to life in a shorter body!"Oi, Jiang Cheng." Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng sidesteps his elbow, leaving him to stagger in the left-behind space. "Thanks for vouching for me."Jiang Cheng shrugs. "Was the truth.""Still." He winks at him, tempted to drag him into a hug, but not wanting to be smacked again. "Did you really feed the junior juniors spicy porridge?""Stop calling them that. It sounds stupid.""Too much spice is dangerous for baby Lan disciples, you know—""They're so noisy. Are they related to Jingyi, by any chance?" Wei Ying shrugs. Jiang Cheng sighs. "Well anyway, what was I supposed to do? Let them starve?""But how did the old man end up getting your porridge?""Beats me. I left them the whole pot. They must have given some to him too.""Did they cry when they ate it?"Jiang Cheng shakes his head. "Mine isn't able to melt a sword like yours is.""You have no taste.""You have no taste-buds."They shove at each other, but just as they're about to reach the main house, Wei Ying stops in his tracks, and Jiang Cheng stumbles back towards him."What is it?""The... the junior juniors." Wei Ying turns to him. "A-Ming and A-Tao. Lan Xichen sent them out to have breakfast."Jiang Cheng waits. "And?""That means they... that means he's alone right now." He grabs Jiang Cheng's arm. "Lan Xichen is alone right now, and there's an intruder in the Cloud Recesses. We don't know what he's here for. We don't know what he wants."Eyes widening, Jiang Cheng gasps. "The—the curse!"Both of them dart forwards, but Wei Ying hauls him back. "You go check that the juniors are okay. I'll check on him.""Wei Wu—""They're important too! Go, A-Cheng! I've got this!"He legs it all the way across the Cloud Recesses, cursing under his breath that he should have brought Suibian with him.Could that old man really be the one behind Lan Xichen's strange affliction? If he was going by gut feeling, he'd say yes. If he was going by his heart, he'd say no. He hadn't sensed any bad feeling or resentful energy coming from him that would indicate he had bad intentions towards Lan Xichen, but until they've interrogated him to see what he wants, they need to treat him like a suspect.Wei Ying tears across the last stretch of land, but comes to a halt in front of the hanshi—Where the two junior juniors are already stationed. A-Ming has his sword out at the ready, and A-Tao... is slipping something under the door? When A-Ming lets out a cry of alarm they both spin around, but he calls out before they can charge at him. "Senior Wei!" A-Tao exclaims. "Has the intruder been found?""When did you get here?" He rushes over to check them. No injuries, nothing. Good. "Is Zewu-Jun alright?""We came here straight after telling Sect Leader Jiang where to find you," he answers, straightening up. "We realised that we couldn't let a suspicious character make their way towards Zewu-Jun!""Excellent. Good thinking. I'm so proud," Wei Ying pats them both on the head. "Is he alright?""He's fine," a voice says, and the door is slid open slowly. Lan Xichen pokes his head out, looking rather bleary-eyed. "Though he is also wondering what on earth is going on this morning.""Zewu-Jun!" A-Ming squeaks, scurrying over and moving as if to shield Lan Xichen from the rainy outdoors. "Please, go back inside. We will take care of it.""It? What is 'it'?"Lan Xichen squints. He looks at Wei Ying when the two boys refuse to answer. "Wei Wuxi—"
Whoosh. Thump.
All turn around at the sound of hurried footsteps. "Taken care of," Lan Zhan informs everyone, heading straight for his brother. He almost stops at the sight of Wei Ying, who is probably more mud than a person right now, but carries on till he is on the hanshi doorstep. "Everything is sorted."Lan Xichen blinks. "Wangji, I still don't know what 'everything' is." When Lan Zhan moves to stand by his side, very clearly hovering over him, he sighs. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?""There's been an intruder," Wei Ying explains, taking pity on the poor man who is looking at all of them as though they've lost their minds. "I saw him in the meeting hall. Then he disappeared.""An intruder?" Lan Xichen frowns. "Why would—""Everyone! It's been handled, it's been handled!"Lan Jingyi bursts onto the scene with Lan Sizhui in tow. How has everything been sorted so quickly? Perhaps it is down to the typical Lan-efficiency, that the clean-up was probably executed and completed in minutes. Wei Ying wouldn't be surprised.Jingyi shoots his junior juniors an assessing look, then turns to report to the seniors. "Hanguang-Jun, he's been apprehended. From Teacher's assessment, he appears to be harmless.""A harmless intruder?" Wei Ying muses doubtfully. "Are you suggesting that someone who has trespassed this far into the Cloud Recesses can be innocent?""He was found sitting on Little Apple, Senior Wei," Sizhui responds, fidgeting slightly when the adults turn towards him. "When we found him he was... admiring the donkey."Wei Ying coughs."Admiring? As in—""Looking at." Lan Zhan shoots him a warning look. "Talking to, and looking at. Nothing more.""But Little Apple??""Teacher thinks he's drunk." Sizhui scratches his wrist. "It does seem pretty likely—""That's what tends to happen when you've been drinking." Once again, they all turn in unison at Jiang Cheng's arrival. The man doesn't stop, rushing over to wedge himself under the eaves of the hanshi roof. At Wei Ying's questioning look, he sighs. "The juniors are fine. I... forgot my umbrella.""You have bad luck with umbrellas, it seems," Lan Xichen muses, smiling at the man half-sheltered by his roof. "You can come further inside if you want — ""No."Everyone startles at the sharpness of that tone.Lan Zhan shifts himself to stand between the two of them, and when his brother opens his mouth, he shakes his head firmly. "Brother needs to rest. No visitors." Ignoring their looks, he lifts his head to the side. "Uncle."Lan Qiren's heavy steps draw to a halt, head spinning from side to side. "Why are so many people gathered here? Have you nowhere else to be?!""Uncle," Lan Zhan says again. "The intruder has been taken care of?"Nodding, "I sent some disciples to take him back to Caiyi Town after questioning him. It seemed likely that he was from there. They returned saying he was indeed from Caiyi Town, and that his daughter had been looking for him." Suddenly he turns on the disciples, changing in the blink of an eye from a calm uncle to an eagle-eyed interrogator. "Which one of you was on patrol duty last night?" It becomes apparent that he isn't really asking when his eyes go straight to one of them, and that person's face goes bone-white."Me?" Jingyi cannot help turning to his friend, looking confused. "It was me and Sizhui last night.""Who was in charge of the main gate?"Sizhui swallows thickly."He told us the gate was wide open when he arrived. That he was essentially able to walk right in."But Sizhui wouldn't... Wei Ying meets his husband's gaze, both of them stunned.If a disciple was ever disruptive, incapable or irresponsible, it was never their Sizhui. Looking at him now, at first Wei Ying cannot understand what would cause him to be so lax about patrol, but then, ah. It is something that they've been trying to talk to Sizhui about for a while now: that nowadays he barely ever smiles. That his eyes are often red-rimmed with dark shadows underneath them, and his expression is always so stern it borders on being unfriendly. He is not himself.(I don't think he's been sleeping well, Lan Zhan, he'd confessed to his husband one night, after telling him how Sizhui only killed a handful of corpses that night-hunt instead of his usual number, and he was almost caught by one of Jin Ling's arrows when he wasn't paying attention.Lack of sleep can be dangerous for even the most seasoned of cultivators. All it takes is being a fraction of a second too slow, and then... He'd fretted over it in a way that he'd never fretted over anything before in his life, but the mere thought of Sizhui losing his life to something so stupid as being sleep deprived? It turned his stomach. It made him feel cold and terrified, and yet all he could bring himself to say was we need to talk to him, and Lan Zhan understood.)As the clan's eldest disciple, a lot of responsibilities have fallen onto his shoulders in recent days. Sizhui has taken it all silently and without complaint, but it's plain to see that even with Jingyi sticking to his side like a burr, he is becoming incredibly overwhelmed by it all. He almost didn't allow himself to take the time to enjoy Jin Ling's visit, and it was only with Jingyi's insistence that the little mistress is probably not going to leave without seeing us, that Sizhui even agreed to do so."We're lucky that man was nothing more than a drunk—""Who was this man?" Lan Xichen interrupts, pushing the door open wider. Lan Zhan immediately moves to... oh, to stand in the way of the breeze? Wei Ying can't help but gaze at him lovingly. (His Lan Zhan is such a sweetheart.) "Was he a beggar? Should we not have helped him?"Lan Qiren, "His daughter claims he was a skilled cultivator in his youth who has become a drunk in his retirement. He tends to wander around when he is inebriated, often running away to do mischief. Other than that he is harmless."All through this, Wei Ying feels like Lan Qiren's words are directed right at him. When he checks, the man is indeed glaring at him, but soon he moves his glare back to Sizhui, and Wei Ying wishes he would bring it back to him."Even so, this oversight in security is not something we can dismiss. What if it had been a corpse walking through that gate, or something even worse than that? You are the eldest disciple, Sizhui. You're meant to set an example for your juniors. This carelessness is unacceptable! As punishment, you will— ""Uncle," Lan Zhan cuts in smoothly. "I will handle punishment."Lan Qiren nods approvingly. "Rightly so. Sizhui, after classes you will report to Hanguang-Jun every day for a month.""Yes, Teacher." For any other child, it would be no hardship to report to their fathers for punishment, but even after all this time, it's difficult to judge whether Lan Zhan will be lenient or strict about a punishment. Sizhui tries to catch his father's gaze to gauge this, but when Lan Qiren orders him and the other disciples to return to lessons before striding away, his shoulders droop and his eyes fall to the ground. Jingyi nudges him, but when he gets no response, he throws the seniors a beseeching look. "Tch. What a ridiculous start to the morning."Again, Jiang Cheng startles everyone by interrupting, especially with such a dry tone. Most of them are looking at him as though he is about to spit fire, and indeed the glower on his face is rather terrifying, but Wei Ying beams. Though very similar to his pissed-off-face, this is, in fact, his 'that was hilarious but I'm not going to say that it was' face. A face he used to wear in the aftermath of some of Wei Ying's more successful (and troublesome) pranks.Jiang Cheng snorts. "Chasing a drunkard out of the Cloud Recesses? How ironic—no, how typical, that the one who found him had to be you, Wei Wuxian." Wei Ying lets out a quiet hey, but then his brother turns to the eldest of the group.Lan Xichen dips his head solemnly. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for the disturbance, Sect Leader Jiang.""No need." Jiang Cheng shoots Lan Xichen a strange look. "I'm not blaming you. I was just saying that it's been an... eventful morning." His eyes flick downwards briefly before returning to Lan Xichen's face. "Your brother is right though, Zewu-Jun. I am in no rush for a meeting, so I would not want to trouble you. I would like to finish sorting out Jin Ling's lessons in time for me to return to Lotus Pier by the end of the week, but as I said: there's no rush. If you would prefer it, I can speak to your uncle instead—""No!" Lan Xichen's exclamation makes them all jump. He flushes, but continues, "I'd prefer to be the one to help you, Sect Leader Jiang."Jiang Cheng frowns but recovers smoothly. "Alright, just... whenever you are ready to see me, let me know."Lan Xichen inclines his head stiffly. "Of course."Jiang Cheng continues to eye him for a moment but then turns to plant both hands on his hips, glaring at the downpour which hasn't stopped once this whole morning (or for the past few days). "Now, about this rain...""Senior Jiang doesn't have an umbrella?" A-Tong pipes up, cocking his head. "He can take mine if he wants?""Won't you be needing it?" Lan Xichen asks. The two junior juniors shake their heads. "After what happened this morning, it will be better if we stay—""Absolutely not." The First Jade levels them both with a surprisingly stern look. "You'll both be returning to the main house, getting warm, and doing some studying. I will be fine.""But, Zewu-Jun—""As he said," Lan Zhan intones firmly. "Go study."They shuffle uncertainly, darting looks around for help from anyone, even their senior disciples.Jingyi lets out an abrupt laugh, taking a couple of steps forwards to shoo them off. "Don't worry about Zewu-Jun. If he said it's okay, then it's okay! Leave it to your seniors to take care of it. Now, Senior Jiang," he turns to said man, his grin not dimming one bit. "If you are amenable to it, Sizhui and I are willing to escort you back to the main house."Even though he's grown up a lot compared to what he used to be, sometimes Jingyi's displays of maturity still take them all by surprise. Him taking command of the situation fills Wei Ying with pride, and watching him talk to the infamous Sandu Shengshou without a hint of fear, and instruct the younger disciples on how to behave... he's definitely learnt a lot from Sizhui.His usual brash personality remains, but it has been somewhat tempered by him trying to set a good example for the junior juniors. He really is a good fit for Sizhui, with each of them balancing the other out. Both of them are really living up to their new monikers of 'the Mini Twin Jades of Gusu Lan', which he still finds utterly delightful. "Since you're already wearing his clothes, you may as well share his umbrella," Wei Ying points out, immediately dodging a swipe from his brother. "Thank you, Jingyi, Sizhui," Jiang Cheng says, glancing at Lan Zhan out of the corner of his eye. "I'd be grateful for the help. As for my business with Zewu-Jun, if Hanguang-Jun is willing to keep me informed about when the next meeting will be...""Yes.""...then I look forward to seeing you at your next convenience, Zewu-Jun."With a polite bow, Jiang Cheng excuses himself. Wei Ying finds himself having to bite his lip not to laugh at the sight of his brother stooping to fit under Jingyi's umbrella, even with Jingyi's arm stretched as high as he can reach. The wind and rain whip away their voices, but even then he can hear snatches of the conversation that make him snigger.If you'd just give me the fucking umbrella is met with I get it, I'm short, alright? What do you want me to do about it? Jiang Cheng's hand shoots out and Jingyi ducks but still finds himself being cuffed around the ear. Swearing and violence are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses! At one point Wei Ying might have worried about Jiang Cheng's reaction to Jingyi's bold remarks, but now Jiang Cheng merely hunches his back to accommodate himself, and never actually tries to take the umbrella from Jingyi. All bark and no bite, indeed. His eyes flit towards Sizhui, finding him walking several paces ahead of the other two and not saying a word. Again his heart aches and Wei Ying wants to call out to him, but he cannot bring himself to do so. Because Sizhui is the oldest of the juniors, already considered a man by so many others.(The child? His mind and heart were settled back then. Mine, he'd said jokingly, and has continued to joke about it many times since, but his mind and heart were right. They knew before he knew, what he'd felt. Now, whenever Wei Ying looks at Sizhui, he sees A-Yuan. Mine, he thinks every time, his heart fluttering at the thought that behind every smile Lan Sizhui gives him, sweet little A-Yuan is calling for his Xian-gege.He is so proud of him, even though there is nothing he has contributed towards Sizhui's talent and kind heart. He is proud of him even now—despite him looking defeated and sad and over-wrung. Were it not for the fact that he doesn't want to embarrass Sizhui, he would point at him and shout out: but isn't that the best-looking radish you've ever seen? even though no one but the two of them would understand what that meant.)"Both of you should go get cleaned up."Ah, blinking away memories of butterflies and radishes, he turns to Lan Xichen, who is leaning against the door jamb. It takes him a moment to figure out what is wrong about him, but then he realises he isn't smiling. He smiles less these days too, but right now he isn't even putting any effort into pretending that he is alright. "Brother—""You should go with him." He smiles then, but it's such a fragile thing. What happened? Wei Ying wonders, looking him over and finding nothing. Why is he upset? "I'll be fine. The man has been dealt with. Nothing to worry about."Lan Zhan frowns, opening his mouth to protest."You said I needed to rest." He almost snaps the words at them, startling both himself and Lan Zhan rather badly. Seeing this, Lan Xichen sighs, but the smile is completely gone now, and he looks so tired. "Please Wangji, I just... I want to be alone." For a while, the two of them linger outside the hanshi, even after Lan Xichen has shut the door.This is definitely not what Wei Ying was expecting when he left the jingshi this morning, and he has no idea how to feel about all that has happened since. The question he came to ask hangs on his tongue, inappropriate as ever, but desperate to lighten the mood. So, what did you do to piss Jiang Cheng off yesterday? he wants to ask. Anything to distract Lan Zhan from his brother. Anything to stop him from blaming himself for whatever that Lan Xichen was upset for.He bites his tongue. Looking at Lan Zhan's face right now, it's not the time for it.Back to the jingshi it is. "It's too suspicious.""Mm," he grunts, pouring water over long tangled tresses and gently rinsing the soap out. Ever since they reached their room, Wei Ying has been trying to coax Lan Zhan out of his bad mood, but he can't... he just —
Please Wangji, I just... I want to be alone.
What happened? Why was it that when he looked at his brother right then, he couldn't for the life of him tell what he was feeling. He was too shocked to be able to protest, and then the door was shut, and he couldn't... he didn't—"What I'm trying to say is that it's too unlikely that he simply wandered in," Wei Ying insists, pulling away to look at him. "This is the Cloud Recesses. It's on the top of a fucking mountain. How the hell can someone find their way here drunk?"Lan Zhan says nothing. Merely sits and waits for him to continue thinking aloud."And he claims that he is drunk, but it's easy to say that you're drunk and be mistaken for it—just as it's easy to be mistaken for a lunatic, isn't that right?" Wei Ying winks and then turns to lean against him again. "All it takes is a little suggestion, a little fooling around, and suddenly everyone thinks that you're harmless.""It's not unusual.""Hmm?""People wandering into the Cloud Recesses. It happens from time to time."Wei Ying twists around to properly face him.Lan Zhan sighs but forces himself to speak. "Rogue cultivators seeking enlightenment, or those wanting to train in seclusion," he explains. "People seek remote places to distance themselves from worldly distractions. Sometimes they are not prepared. Their cores aren't strong enough. They wander too far. They haven't practised inedia enough. They become lost.""So they come to the Cloud Recesses?""If they can find their way here, yes, or if we find them we bring them back. We have had such visitors before. Usually, they are treated before being brought back to society.""Is that why Big Brother was upset?"Lan Zhan had thought so at first, but his brother wouldn't get upset at something like that. No... the more he thinks about it, the less he understands."Didn't he say we should have helped him instead of sending him off?" Wei Ying muses, lifting a cupped hand to pour the water off his fingers. "I guess we could have. Could've certainly been a little less aggressive, I suppose, what with Teacher assembling a whole search party to look for one man..."That's it. That's exactly it. Why didn't Lan Zhan think of it before?"We overreacted."Wei Ying blinks at him. "No, we didn't."But they did, they had. Before—had this had happened, they would have thought nothing of it. As he'd said just now: random people wandering into the Cloud Recesses is nothing new. Their lands aren't fully walled in because the landscape provides enough of a challenge to keep most people out, that those who trespass are few and far between. The fact that one old drunkard sent the whole clan into a flurry like this... "Oh." Wei Ying tilts his head as he no-doubt follows the same thought. "I suppose we did overreact a bit, but I mean... isn't that to be expected?"Lan Zhan nods, but the realisation spears through him. His brother wasn't upset.He was embarrassed. Because his family had panicked so much, not over the fact that there was an intruder, but because there was an unknown person hanging around and he was vulnerable. They immediately went on the defensive, rushing to deal with the man as though he'd come in waving a sword about and screaming bloody murder.Instead of acting rationally, they were so easily provoked into thinking he was a danger to Lan Xichen that they—but isn't it understandable? The way he is right now, if that man had been seeking to harm him, their actions would have been justified.But he hadn't. And instead of treating the man in the way his brother would have liked—with kindness, and hospitality... they turfed him out.And even now, they were still having doubts about his character.This is not the way Lan Xichen likes the Cloud Recesses to be run."Lan Zhan," Wei Ying calls softly. He turns to him, desperate to be reassured. Even though he knows it is not forever, what his brother said terrifies him.
I just... I want to be alone.
He's never said that before. Despite having spent a whole year in seclusion, Lan Zhan has always been welcome in the hanshi. His brother has never turned him away.He embarrassed him. He knows he has a tendency to be overprotective to the point of overbearing, but when Jingyi came running to the Library Pavilion yelling about an intruder, Lan Zhan had acted on instinct: flying all over the Cloud Recesses, finding Sizhui with the man, scanning him thoroughly for malicious intent. Racing back to the hanshi to check on his brother—"Lan Zhan, it wasn't overreacting," his husband says firmly. "We really didn't know. It's better to be safe than sorry. Your brother understands that."Of course his brother understands. That doesn't mean he likes being fussed over. What a lot of people don't understand is that whilst the Lans are known for their modesty, that doesn't mean they are incapable of being embarrassed. Humility is not the absence of pride. Whilst Lan Xichen is the least pretentious person he knows, though he may lack pride—that doesn't mean he doesn't have any."That being said, that man... I didn't sense anything hostile about him, even though I only saw him briefly." Wei Ying scratches his chin. "No resentful energy, no malicious intent. I think it turns out... he really was just a harmless drunkard.""Better to be safe than sorry," Lan Zhan blurts out, surprising even himself. The half-formed idea grows in his mind. Part of him cannot trust that the circumstances are as straightforward as they seem. Call him paranoid, but Wei Ying was right on his first remark: it's too suspicious. Even if there was nothing sinister about the intruder, that doesn't mean he's not to be taken seriously. "Can you ask Wen Ning?""Wen Ning?" A pause, then: "Ah, you want him to keep an eye on the old man?"Lan Zhan nods. Better to be safe than sorry, he repeats to himself. What if the man is a spy?"Well, I don't know... I'm not his master anymore, remember? I suppose we can ask A-Yuan to ask him, but I'd feel kind of bad—""Don't have to.""No, no, no, I will." Wei Ying reaches across to cup his face, and Lan Zhan leans into the touch. "I'm sure he'll say yes."Something eases in his chest. Even if this turns out being pointless, even if his brother finds out... he needs him safe. He will do everything in his power to protect him.Wei Ying strokes his jaw, leaning in to pepper it with kisses until his eyes fall shut. He is reluctant every morning he has to leave him behind, but coming back to this... having this to return to is such a blessing. Lan Zhan seeks his husband's mouth blindly and is rewarded with more ticklish kisses on his jaw, and bell-like laughter as he chases him to the other side of the tub."By the way, Lan Zhan. Do you know why I was looking for you earlier?"He hums absently. Covered head-to-toe in mud, it was obvious that he'd been out in the rain for a long time. If he'd been looking for him, knowing Wei Ying, he must have gotten distracted by the puddles."Actually, Jiang Cheng told me I should ask you something." This has him freezing mid-kiss. Why does Wei Ying have to mention his brother when they are both naked in the bath?? "He said that the reason he has to wear Jingyi's clothes is because of you. What does that even mean, Lan-er-gege?" he asks teasingly. "Did you—""Wasn't my fault," he says, turning to look away. Wei Ying's laughter draws his eye again though. It's too lovely to ignore. "From what he said today, it sounds like it was something to do with his meeting with Brother Xichen...?"Lan Zhan sighs. Wei Ying won't let this go of this until he is satisfied. "I... I didn't tell him.""You... didn't tell him about the meeting?" Wei Ying blinks but connects the dots alarmingly fast. "So he—oh! That's right. He had to rush out. Is that what Brother Xichen meant about the umbrellas?"Lan Zhan doesn't answer."He got caught in the rain? What's with Jiang Cheng and the weather lately? So his clothes got ruined, and then—but why is he wearing Jingyi's clothes? You and I have spares too. Surely you could have—" Wei Ying stares at Lan Zhan for a long moment. His cheeks turn red, and a glint sparkles in his eye. "You could have... Lan Zhan!""...Mm?""Lan Zhan, you... hahaha—oh, the elders are right! I'm such a bad influence on you!""Shouldn't have done it," Lan Zhan says tonelessly, glowering at the water. "Brother was not pleased with my... behaviour."Wei Ying cackles so hard, he has to slap him on the arm. "Don't be sad, Lan Zhaaan! When I saw Jiang Cheng, he wasn't bothered. No harm was done, as far as I can see!""Was childish.""Yes. Was also hilarious!""Brother was already stressed about the meeting. I made it worse for him.""Lan Zhan," he says, using that firm tone again from before. "I think you are overreacting now. Nothing bad happened. Jiang Cheng isn't as thin-faced as everyone thinks. He can handle a joke! I mean, just look at who the person he grew up with is!" When Lan Zhan doesn't respond, he groans. "Do you trust me?""I do.""Then believe me when I say that this thing between you and Jiang Cheng, it doesn't have to be as difficult as you're making it seem. He's sorry, you know? He didn't mean what he said." Wei Ying pauses and then decides to go for it. "Am I right in thinking you want to apologise to him too?"Honestly, he isn't sure. The thought of apologising to Jiang Cheng is hardly appealing, but if it will ease his brother's worries... "Mm.""Oh my god. You're both acting like little kids. Just suck it up and do it then. Be the bigger man.""I am bigger.""Pfft! Oh my god, Lan Zhan!"Sliding around the edge of the tub, he moves them around till his husband is sat in his lap again. They will be making a mess of themselves again shortly, but for now, he just wants to hold him. "Am I taking it too seriously?""You mean what Jiang Cheng said?" Wei Ying scoffs. "You take everything too seriously, but no. In that instance, what he said wasn't very nice.""I don't understand why it bothers me." Curling his arms around him, he presses his face to Wei Ying's shoulder. "Or why he would say that.""Neither do I, but A-Cheng is... he's like the waters of Yunmeng, you know? Muddy waters, murky and deep. Anything can stir him up, and sometimes even I cannot predict what will set him off. This is not your fault and it's not his either, it's just the way you both are. You weren't to know, and neither was he." They sit for a couple of minutes, but Wei Ying is unable to not speak for longer than that. "Do you want to know something though, Lan Zhan?"He does if it will help."There's a trick to handling him. As I said—imagine those waters, murky but deep. Most of the time you can't see what's under there, but that mud is where the lotus chooses to grow. Knowing where to swim safely takes experience, and to master it you cannot be afraid of drowning." But what is the point of risking himself to learn how to 'handle' Jiang Cheng? Why should Jiang Cheng matter to him, beyond being a reluctant acquaintance? They're brothers-in-law now, but as long as they can tolerate each other, is that not enough?"Speaking of Jiang Cheng, he told me something about your brother." This has Lan Zhan tensing up again. "He looked at him during the meeting, you know? With those clear Jiang eyes of his. He said that his qi is behaving quite oddly. Like it's leaking from his dantian. There's no damage to the core, but it's weaker than it should be."This is not news to him. It only confirms his worst fears: that whatever is hurting his brother is affecting his spiritual energy.He's fading.Lan Zhan has known this for months now, and yet he doesn't know what to do with what he knows. This isn't the same as waiting at his mother's door, taking comfort in the place she used to live. It isn't the same as taking thirty-three whips to the back, knowing that the scar of each wound was his by choice. This is searching for an answer that might not even exist. There is no hope to hold onto this time, no devotion that can give him peace. Knowing that his brother is suffering, but not knowing how to help him—
I'm not scared, A-Zhan. If this is the path that I have found, then it's the path meant for me.
It can't be. It won't be. Please don't let it be. Where the path leads to has never been found, but what if that end-destination is coming for his brother? The path folding up to meet him, seeking revenge for his sudden desertion, or payment for all the times it has been used before, only to now be abandoned.What if there was a price to pay for all of their otherworldly wanderings, and all this time they didn't know it?What if the price was him? He knocks on the door, listening carefully for a response. Enough disciples have been scarred from not waiting long enough before barging into the jingshi, and faced the consequences of their untimeliness by seeing far too much skin for anyone's peace of mind. These days he's learnt to be extra careful when visiting his parents. After having been unfortunate enough to have caught them during their more intimate moments more often than he would like to admit, it pays to be cautious. When his father pulls open the door only seconds after he's knocked, and Sizhui blinks up at him in surprise."Hanguang-Jun?" Quickly, he dips into a semi-bow, "Good afternoon, Hanguang-Jun. I'm here for my punishment."Nodding, Lan Wangji leads him inside, leaving Sizhui to close the door. As he does so, he sucks in a deep breath to steady himself. "Hanguang-Jun, I'm... I am really sorry. I promise you that what happened last night, it won't happen again—"He turns around, only to find his father is already halfway across the room. Sizhui lets out a little noise of confusion, to which he is given an inscrutable look."Aren't we...?" Sizhui gestures towards the writing desk, where he'd been expecting to be led.Before he can answer, another voice calls from behind the screen. "Is that you, A-Yuan?" A clatter of things. Then rustling. "A-Yuan! Come over here!"He hesitates. "Go," Lan Zhan instructs, forcing him to move.He lifts one hand to his face, just to be ready—just in case.Whilst this father seems mostly unbothered whenever Sizhui accidentally walks in on them, his other father seems to delight in watching him turn into a red, sputtering mess. (You used to be such a crybaby, A-Yuan! he's told him before. Crying at everything. I miss that face! This is the closest I can get to recreating those memories...) Sizhui darts a look behind him, wondering if this is to be Hanguang-Jun's punishment. Cruel and unfair. He'd rather write the rules ten times over.What he finds behind the screen though is—surprisingly safe. Just Wei Wuxian sprawled out on the bed, but most importantly: fully dressed. He shoots Sizhui a lazy grin, scooting around to make space on the bed.Wait, to make space on the bed?What. "Father—""Go," his father says again, pushing him forwards. He stumbles, turning to look at him in confusion. What?Wei Wuxian pats the bed, and Sizhui dithers for so long that eventually his father picks him up and dumps him on the bed. (What??!)Before he can escape, he finds himself trapped in his father's arms. Lan Wangji moves to the other side of the room, but when Sizhui opens his mouth to ask, he is shushed. His father returns holding his guqin, and that's when Sizhui starts to get it. "B-But I... I—the punishment—""Shh, lie down. Close your eyes." A hand presses his face against a warm chest, and when he tilts his head, the heart beating below his ear is so soothing to listen to. He closes his eyes.The last thing he hears is the first few notes of that sweet tune his parents are so fond of. Then the cool sensation of the Song of Tranquility[2] flows over his mind, and he sinks deep into slumber.This time it isn't filled with frenzied thoughts. This time there is no burning tree. He finds himself coasting on the gentle wave of a song, an outpouring of warmth and affection flooding him inside. There is a swaying red tassel he likes to play with, a long white ribbon he likes to hold onto...
[A-Yuan, it's okay.
It's not okay. Nothing is okay. He wants Father, but Father's back is hurting. Father needs to rest.
A warm hand grasps his, engulfing it completely.
This man is Uncle, and he looks a lot like Father, but they are very different. When Father rests, he always comes to take him away. They go for long walks or sometimes Uncle reads to him. They do this often enough that he almost looks forward to it, because despite desperately wanting to stay with Father, Uncle is a really good storyteller.
The best times are when he takes him for music lessons though, because it opens up a whole new world to him, full of bright softness that lightens his soul. It makes this new place seem less frightening to him, colouring the plain white with dazzling colours that spread across his vision like a dream. They tell him he is a genius, but that doesn't give credit to all the hours of practice he's put in, all the days he's sat and listened humbly by his Uncle's knee.
It's no wonder he's learning fast. Between Father and Uncle, he has the best teachers.
Every song he hears sounds familiar. There are lullabies he cannot quite place, but that are locked inside him somewhere, sung by a woman with a quaking, weathered voice...
Come, sit with me, Uncle says, taking A-Yuan to a room that is the mirror-image of Father's. He carries a small guqin over to him, and crouches so he can position his tiny fingers on the strings. Do you remember the tune I taught you last time?
He does. His fingers tremble on the strings with anticipation.
Laughing, Uncle reaches out to steady them. Show me then. A-Yuan nods, and bends his head to the task. He plucks—
Nothing. Not a sound. Frowning, he tries again. Uncle, why isn't it working? He lifts his head. Uncle?
There is no one there. There is—]
Nothing?
"Uncle!"He jerks awake, gasping for breath. Hands reach for him. Hands hold him. It isn't enough. There is someone missing. Sizhui sobs bitterly, and A-Yuan searches and searches, but there is nothing. There is no one—What is he doing? It was just a—a nightmare. He shouldn't even be sleeping. There is work to do. There are things that need to get done—a punishment he has yet to receive. He failed. He needs to fix it. He's meant to set an example for your juniors. This carelessness is unacceptable—"A-Yuan." The liquid notes sink into his bones. He hears a drum. No, a heartbeat. A voice.(There is a song in your heart, A-Yuan. This gentle man has done this so many times for him, that now his fingers fall into position naturally. He could do this blind, by touch, or by his father's side in the dark of night. One day, will you play it for me?)"Enough, A-Yuan." A hand strokes through his hair. "Close your eyes."He is so tired.Father, please. You must find him, he thinks, feeling them both either side of him, Uncle is lost.By his next breath, he is asleep. How can one man cause so much chaos in such a short time?Why is he even asking himself this, when the past two decades have taught them all not underestimate what an individual is capable of. There are names that will go down in history, never to be forgotten—people that he knows and has known, whose actions have been like rocks thrown in a pond. The ripples spread everywhere, changing everything, and shaping the lives of thousands. But this man, this bringer of chaos, was no one important. An old drunkard, a retired cultivator.Lan Xichen hasn't been able to move from the door since he shut it.
Is Zewu-Jun alright?
Zewu-Jun! Please, go back inside. We will take care of it.
Tch. What a ridiculous start to the morning—
Ugh.The last time he felt this useless was... a cold spring day, over twenty years ago.Beneath the prickle of irritation, there had been real anger. They would not let him through. The doors were barred by the older disciples, but it was the procession of elders sweeping in and out of the room that had made Lan Xichen nervous. Why can't we see her? They would not answer him and Uncle would not meet his eye. The house across from mother's was utterly silent and still. He kept his brother close to him all day, tucking him in at night and staying with him till morning.He must have figured out what happened sometime in the night, because the next day when no one came to get them for their monthly visit, he wasn't surprised. What he resented was that no one would say it to his face: your mother is dead. It wouldn't have given him closure, but what he'd wanted—what he needed to know was if their silence meant he was allowed to tell Wangji or not. He knew he could take care of his brother, and of them both, but no one else believed that he could.The way he felt then is how he feels now. Frustrated that the people trying to protect him mean well, because he has no need for their protection. Even if the old man had been dangerous, he would have preferred to meet him and face the consequences whatever came from it, rather than stay in his room where he was safe.Safe. Is he really safe in here? Is there any sense in trying to protect him from outside dangers, when the real threat to him has buried itself somewhere deep inside him? It is a type of rot, he thinks, or something capable of draining away at his confidence, if nothing else. Lan Xichen grits his teeth and finally pushes away from the door. His fingers itch to play his Liebing. It has been too long, but now his breath cannot sustain a good enough note. It wavers, rattling like sand in a pipe. He will only grow frustrated if he tries and fails. It has happened before, too many times to count.Something crinkles underfoot. A scrap of paper? When he unfolds the note, a snort of laughter catches him by surprise.Thick, aggressive lines dart across the page, demanding in an almost vicious manner: YOU REALLY THINK I SHOULD CONSIDER PRACTISING THIS? Even with the brushstrokes slashing the page, disconnected and splattering where he'd slapped ink down too heavily... it's so lively. Full of character. Lan Xichen thinks he will have to tell him next time: absolutely. This only proves it.Just admiring the bold lettering gives Lan Xichen the sudden desire to... to pick up a brush himself.It's been a while since he's done any artwork for fun. He can't remember the last time he used a brush for something that wasn't an official document. Calligraphy is more Wangji's area (and clearly Jiang Cheng's too, despite what he thinks), not his. He does not have the talent for it, but loves to paint instead—anything and everything, from people to places, from buildings to wild landscapes.It has been mentioned to him before, the irony of his and his brother's hobbies, contrasting starkly with their personalities. Where Wangji rarely speaks at length, he can write for days. Where he can talk for others, he paints for himself.He fetches the brushes, the coloured pigments, the lacquer soot inksticks, the inkstone, the paper, and some water. He sets them all out neatly, and then... ...Hm. Didn't think about what he was planning to paint, did he?Drumming his fingers on the table. What to paint, what to paint.Lan Xichen resists the urge to scratch his head, but only barely.Why oh why is it so difficult to find any inspiration when he needs to paint something? He needs it. There is so little else he can do. If he cannot play Liebing, and he cannot meditate, Heavenly Mother, please allow him to paint. Idly, he strokes the carvings on the inkstone, tracing the deep grooves of that depict the dragon's scaly hide, its body curling like a ribbon around the edge—Ah-ha.Dragons. He's painted dragons before. But what about... the thing he's been obsessed with for a couple of days now? What about a dragon-fly? Oh, but surely it's morbid to want to use his deceased little friend as a model. He doesn't plan to keep him though. He will take him outside to be buried, but before he is gone forever he would like something to remember him by... he really is very beautiful.Lan Xichen hems and haws for a bit, but then decides what the hell, and goes to bring the little dragon over. There is a bit of adjusting, which he does carefully now that the body is brittle, and then he picks up his brush and—ah. He's rusty. Oh, this is bad. It really has been a while. There is too much pigment, not enough water. Then there is too much water, not enough pigment.Oh dear, oh dear... Lan Xichen forgets what proportions are. What foreshortening is. How to vary line-weights. Everything about colour theory, it seems. (It ends up looking like a cartoony mess.)But he sticks with it because that is what his mother taught him to do. Don't stop, A-Huan. With practice, you will become better. What was it that he'd told Wangji to do?
(First, picture what you want to draw in your mind. Then, trace it from that image.
He'd hovered over his brother's shoulder, careful to keep the edge of his sleeve rolled up and his elbow away from the water.
What are you painting, A-Zhan?
A thick swipe of azure, undiluted. It was swirled in a wonky circle. Two dots of muddy ochre.
Brother,
is all he'd said, dragging charcoal paste down both sides, then a line down the bottom, wait a second
—
That's not your brother, A-Zhan.
Big golden eyes had turned to stare at him. He'd pointed at the chin,
that's Uncle.
A-Zhan frowned at the page, then tries to rip it apart
—
)
Ah. He'd kept that. He knows he has it somewhere. Lan Xichen is aware that he is a hoarder, but all of these things are precious to him. His whole bookshelf contains more of his brother's (and later, Sizhui's) artwork, than actual books.Lan Xichen stands and goes towards it (now that the painting is done, now that his mother's voice isn't scolding him for leaving it unfinished), his feet falling into a familiar rhythm and his hands blindly seeking the bottom shelf. These are Wangji's earlier works. Dragging out a large old book (that he actually re-bound himself, just to fit in these extra pages), he flips to the back and smiles.There it is—the very first one, completely brown and unrecognisable, curling and wrinkled where the water spilt.Brother, it says at the top, with a little tear at the side. He flicks through, smile widening and heart filling with pride at how quickly Wangji improves, but how more and more of the paper is taken up with words than drawings. The lettering quickly develops into perfectly printed, straightly aligned, equally spaced lines of text. Enough reproductions of the Lan Sect rules to create ten new copies, each of them more beautiful than the last.It is whilst he is admiring these carefully written, precisely copied texts, that Lan Xichen forgives his brother. This is Wangji—this is how he is, this is who he is. A man of rules and principles, who breaks each and every one of them for those he loves. Someone whose thoughts follow a strict routine, but whose heart rages underneath, panicking at the vastness of the world and how disordered it is. He knows what his brother must have been thinking. Man: intruder, danger, unknown. Get to Brother. Make sure he's safe. Forgiven.The anger released, Lan Xichen moves on, leisurely flicking through the book as a sense of peace washes over him. Each page of calligraphy has subtle improvements, tiny variations that show that Wangji is thinking, or that his mind is wandering. Around his teenage years, the lines become uneven. Lan Xichen grins. He is very distracted at that age. Then the number draws to an abrupt stop.There is no time for painting or calligraphy during a war. The next pages are few, and almost a return to his childhood days. Shaky, weak, and faltering.Reject the crooked road. Lan Xichen's breath catches. There are streaks of dark brown sometimes, fingerprints of old stained blood.
Have a strong will and anything can be achieved.
Slowly, he regains speed and firmness, if not vigour. There are less than ten pages that span those thirteen years, compared to the entire books that overflowed from his youth. Here and there, there are little slips of another's clumsy attempts at writing, written with a smaller hand. A-Yuan, sitting right next to his taciturn father, swirling ink across his own sheet of paper in a crude imitation.Do others know how much of Sizhui's excellent posture and graceful movements came from Wangji? In their first few years of life, a child is most impressionable. From watching his father move he'd learnt to move, unaware that he kept his back straight to prevent his wounds from opening, that he ceased all unnecessary movements because his life had been made free from distractions.Back then, Lan Xichen made even more of an effort to smile at that child, to show him that he could. He smiles now, fingers brushing over one of A-Yuan's doodles, this one a pair of clumsy butterflies.He stops at the next page. This one... he cannot recognise, and it has remained a mystery for years, but this one... If it isn't Wangji's, and it isn't A-Yuan's...Thirty years ago, a child came to the Cloud Recesses, clinging to his father's robes and scowling at everything he saw. It was very clear that he had no desire to be there at all. After throwing a tantrum (that echoes in Lan Xichen's memory to this day), A-Huan's heart had hurt when he heard who the little boy was crying for. A-Jie! I want my A-Jie! He hadn't been able to stop himself then, and took the inconsolable young master somewhere to be calmed down, even though he had no idea how to handle such a rowdy child.Luckily for him, the little master had tired himself out from crying and had quickly fallen asleep. (There is a picture right before the one he's staring at. A painting of an unfamiliar child, round-cheeked and frowning as he dreams.) When he'd woken up, he'd been considerably calmer, but he still needed to find him something to do. That was when A-Huan brought out the paints.The picture Lan Xichen is looking at is even worse than his brother's first attempt. Torn and water-logged, with tiny handprints smudging the edges. There is no way of telling what he was trying to draw. The colours are so faded, the paper so yellowed... he wonders if he were to show it to Jiang Cheng now, he would know what it was meant to be. For the life of him, he cannot recall what that little master had wanted to paint, only vaguely remembering him slapping inks everywhere in his excitement, pointing at things and trying to take the brush out of his hand—Oh. So was this his drawing then? A laugh escapes him. This messy, ugly thing...He wishes he could recognise what it was meant to be. He wishes he could remember.He cannot imagine Jiang Cheng reacting well to being reminded of this rather embarrassing memory, but maybe if he were to... he looks at the desk. The dragonfly stares back at him, both off the page and from a shiny, bead-like head. It is such a bad painting, but maybe it could serve as an example? Jiang Cheng, this is where we all start, he pictures himself saying, we're never good in the beginning. Over time and with practice, we become better. It could work in answer to his previous question.Should he consider practising calligraphy? Why, of course. On impulse, Lan Xichen folds up the drawing and addresses the back to: Jiang Wanyin. There's no going back now. Ink of this quality cannot be scrubbed out.Out of nowhere, Lan Xichen remembers his father's rooms, and how the house he lived was not as cluttered as his mother's, but just as packed with things.There was one time he visited him and asked about their (as in his and his father's) strange hobby of collecting things because by then he was already amassing a rather large number of his brother's creations (and was rapidly running out of space). The problem was that they, as Lans, were taught not to be materialistic, but these things were more than things, he'd argued. His question was met with a rare laugh, his father smiling at him and even patting him on the head. Then he'd gestured around to all the things he'd kept. He told Lan Huan that it was alright to treasure such things, because regardless of whether or not they were on his shelf, they would always remain in his heart. Take care with the things you hold onto, his father warned him though, his smile becoming a bitter thing, and also with whose things you choose to keep. Somewhere in this room, there is the invitation to Jin Guangyao's wedding. It's neatly folded around a stack of Meng Yao's limericks, all of them sarcastic and a good number of them dirty enough to make one unable to look at fruit without feeling downright filthy (and also curious).
(Xichen-ge, why are you blushing? I'm just describing the sweetness of peaches. What are you thinking about?)
In another corner of the room, there is a collection of diagrams and notes elaborating on how proper sword form can only be achieved when one's mind is clear. Around those carefully measured drawings are smaller sketches of prototype hilts and blades, some functional but most of them surprisingly ornate.One is annotated with: Brother Xichen, it's a known fact that bigger is better, and this here only proves it. The following illustration hypothesises how the swing of a sabre could cleave a mountain in two and behead armies of demons at the same time.He has always known exactly where these things are located, where Wangji's writing is kept, where Sizhui's outgrown clothes have been stored, but somehow... he forgot about this—this little piece of Jiang Cheng. For years it's been here, gathering dust. He didn't take care of it properly, it was neglected (well, maybe not neglected, but...).This is the same as Jiang Cheng's skill with a brush. It's something that has been staring him in the face all these years as he's been reading his letters. It was always there but somehow overlooked. Like a pearl in a shell, hidden at the bottom of the sea.Something Uncle told him before his first time attending the Discussion Conference as Sect Leader, was: the faintest ink is more powerful than the strongest memory. He'd meant to remind him to write everything down—to commit verbal promises and agreements to indelible ink so that in the future he would not have to depend on a person's easily forgotten word.Here, the wisdom whispers to him, but he disagrees. Here... the memory is strong, but the ink is weak, and there are answers he wants to find.There is a better phrase he has been told, that he clings to in this instance.Mother combed his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. Pearls don't lie on the seashore, my son, she'd said softly, eyes downcast. If you want to find one, you must dive for it.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
If you always give, you will always have.
To everyone's surprise, the next meeting between Sect Leaders was scheduled for no later than the next day.Indeed, the promptness of this was mostly due to Lan Xichen taking the initiative to send a missive to Jiang Cheng, informing him when and where they would meet. Thanks to the good timing of this, he was able to prepare himself well in advance this time, and ended up not having to rush out into the rain. Lan Zhan was told about this arrangement just this morning, the message he'd just written himself and been about to send off clutched in his hand. Jingyi was the one who informed him about his brother's meeting. Tomorrow, in the Library Pavilion, he'd announced brightly, only lowering his voice when Sizhui stirred. Lan Zhan had held the paper aloft for a moment, then neatly folded it into quarters. Into the “discard” pile it went.Jingyi was always a good source of information in the Cloud Recesses, and was quick to reply to Lan Zhan's long stare with: he didn't say I couldn't tell you, Hanguang-Jun. And I thought you might want to know. Please don't punish me for gossiping! Shuffling over to the bed, by the way, why is Sizhui sleeping? Does that mean I can sleep-in too?That was how he'd come to know about it. That was how he knew what to prepare himself for when he approached the library later that afternoon.It's only when Lan Zhan is ascending the steps leading to the door that he hesitates. If his brother took it upon himself to arrange the meeting, bypassing him as the middle-man, it probably means he's still not happy with him. Understandable, but does that mean he'd be willing to see him now?
Please Wangji, I just... I want to be alone.
He stands for a long time, hand poised to knock.The door swings open.Lan Xichen frowns at him, but his expression is soft. Concerned. Forgiven. Wordlessly, he turns to walk back inside. Lan Zhan follows.Jiang Cheng must have left just recently. Not too long ago, if the dirty teacups are any indication.Lan Xichen hums idly to himself, sinking to kneel at the table which is covered by a scattering of papers, books and... colour pigments? Those are indeed Lan Xichen's pigments, usually stored in a little wooden box their father gifted to him. A few stained palettes are arranged around it, an assortment of brushes resting on the side."Painting?"Lan Xichen blinks, then smiles up at him. "Yes. I've decided to try practising again."That's good.Lan Zhan lowers himself to the floor as well, eyes trailing over the assortment of blue, green and yellow. There are sketches in charcoal too. Delicate veins etched in translucent wings, and smudged lines that whisper of a creature caught in flight. He studies the progression of each drawing, the details intricate, yet the composition of each rather messy.It's been a while since his brother last drew anything, but years of hard work has meant that remembering his abilities comes quickly to him, evident by the steady improvement between each sketch.When he lifts his head, his brother is stacking some papers together, lips faintly curved and eyes distant."Tired?"
The smile widens, and Lan Xichen shakes his head. "Not at all. It was a good meeting." The papers are set aside, and he gestures to the piles of books. "Sect Leader Jiang went through all of these books to find what he wants to be included in Jin Ling's lessons. I think that a lot of this might even be added to the classroom curriculum.
“Regarding Jin Ling, I also think that there is really very little that needs to be changed regarding his private lessons plans, but his uncle insists on checking everything twice if not thrice. The detail that he's gone to means that what we've covered is already rather... comprehensive."
Lan Zhan grunts, glancing to the side when his brother's eyes twinkle. He can't exactly criticise Jiang Cheng's attention to detail without being a hypocrite.When Sizhui started lessons, he had been just as particular about his studies, but that was only because Sizhui was so bright, and the lessons he'd been taking were clearly not challenging enough for him. What else should he have done? Let Sizhui's potential be wasted? It ended up that the boy spent most of his childhood hours in lessons, either from attending Lan Qiren's classes, or from being taught privately on the side by his uncle and father.Sizhui never complained about this though. He was so eager to learn.When Jingyi attached himself to him, not long after the extra tuition began, well... Lan Zhan soon found himself polishing the two young jades, tempering Jingyi's impatience by rewarding him for good behaviour with stories (usually told to him by Lan Xichen), and coaching Sizhui on strategy and leadership when it became clear that the other disciples were already looking towards him for guidance (even in the earlier years).Though he does not know Jin Ling well, and from what he's seen of him, he seems just as short-tempered and disagreeable as Jiang Cheng, he has become a friend to Sizhui, which means there must be a good heart beneath that churlish exterior. Also, he is a child, with plenty of years to grow and change. He has already proven to be brave and hardworking, he'll give him that. With a little Lan discipline hammered into him, he'll probably turn out a pretty decent leader."I believe Sect Leader Jiang will be staying for a few more days. Despite managing to get through a lot, somehow we were still not able to get through everything..."Lan Xichen widens his eyes slightly at this, his head tipping to the side in consideration. He appears baffled by this assessment, but looking at him, Lan Zhan is oddly reminded of him hugging his scrappy childhood drawings that he's kept. There is a fondness there that is startling in this context."I wonder what else he could possibly want him to learn.""Is it too much?""Well, I would certainly say so. I'm not sure how Young Master Jin will manage to fit everything in. It'll be a miracle if he manages to sleep. As for him having any free time—""Not that. Is this too much work, are you... you're not overdoing it?"Lan Zhan is already sifting through his errands for the day, sorting out which need to be prioritised and which can wait, thinking about how he will have to settle business with Jiang Cheng when this task is handed over to him, but Lan Xichen's laugh cuts across his thoughts like a sword strike. It is such a harsh sound. Bitter and sharp, like vinegar."Overdoing it? How could I be overdoing it? It was just a meeting."Yes, but a meeting with Jiang Cheng, he's almost tempted to say.Every conversation he's ever had with the man has been about as pleasant as chewing on gravel. He cannot imagine that enduring an hours-long meeting with the man one-on-one is something someone can come out of without feeling as though they'd been wrung dry. How can he convey this concern without it being taken the wrong way though? Especially after the mess of what happened yesterday.Too late. Apparently he takes too long to find an answer. Lan Xichen's eyes darken, his breath coming out in a sigh. "Wangji," he says slowly, and instantly Lan Zhan cringes inwardly. "Do you think that this brother of yours... you think me so helpless that I cannot handle a simple meeting?""That's not what I meant—""I think it is."Silence falls like an ax.Lan Zhan doesn't—he cannot stand moments like this.The brothers do not fight often and disagree even less, but when they do... it always becomes a deadlocked situation. As if they have fallen out of sync, as if they are speaking two different languages. It is this disjointed edge to their interactions which breaks Lan Zhan down every time, because Lan Xichen was the first person who was able to be able to understand him at a glance.If his brother cannot read him and he cannot read his brother... it is such a loss, that he cannot bear it. The ache to put it right—"I'm sorry."Lan Zhan blinks. "What?""I'm sorry," his brother repeats, pouring water out into a bowl. He swirls the brushes in the bowl to wet them, leaving behind a swirl of bleeding colours and sucking black void. Each brush is rinsed one by one, the water changed in between. Lan Zhan watches this and is hit by the nostalgia of so many afternoons spent painting with his brother, that he almost forgets about the apology.Then his brother lays each brush out on a towel to dry, and with a jolt, he returns to reality. "Sorry?""Do I really need to specify what for?"Lan Xichen tilts his head in a depreciative manner. Wiping his hands on another towel, again—the silence between them stretches out in a way it never normally does. Fingers dried, he exhales heavily once more."Everything I do or say seems to make things more difficult for you. I'd have to be blind not to notice how much you've been doing for me. Not just the actual work, but also thinking about me, worrying over me... it's a lot, Wangji. And whenever you try to help me, I keep fighting you each step of the way. It's more than most others would be able to handle from me, but of course, you never complain. All of this, and yet I have been ungrateful."Say something, a little voice screams in his head, tell him he's wrong. But Lan Zhan's tongue is tied. He can do nothing but stare helplessly."Please forgive me, brother. I know I am taking far too long to recover. It is hardly fair on... on everyone, but most of all, on you.""There is nothing to forgive."Lan Xichen smiles grimly, but it is nothing more than a grudging acceptance. Lan Zhan wilts. Though it doesn't show on his face, he feels utterly defeated.Why would Brother apologise to him? Why would he feel the need to?Surely he must know that Lan Zhan understands. He knows the slow process of trying to mend your own heart, and how it slows even further when you realise you haven't the means or power to do so by yourself. Forgiveness lives in the hands of something greater. Sometimes it lies out of reach. It is not simple. It is not easy. It is never guaranteed.For him, the guilt he feels for failing Wei Ying remains. It is carved into his back, but even more-so, it is engraved into his heart. In his fingers, which no longer feel anything. In his dreams, where he constantly questions his reality and this new life he's living, again and again. Whilst Lan Zhan cannot say that he knows exactly how his brother is feeling, it cannot be too different from what he suffered. Grief is darkness in different shades. It is different though, because of all the friends Lan Zhan has ever made in his life, those who he truly counts as friends could be counted on one hand, and none of them have ever been dear enough to him to call a 'brother'.He has one brother, and one brother is all he needs (and wants).It was different for Lan Xichen though, which he is fine with, but the loss of these sworn brothers of his... if it's like losing true family, then naturally it will take time to get over. It may not ever pass, the grief. He cannot imagine losing his brother and recovering in a year, let alone even a hundred—But this isn't about him.This is about Lan Xichen—who loved his sworn brothers dearly, despite all their deceptions and strife.This is about... the reason why Lan Zhan is so dedicated to protecting his brother. The reason: he puts so much of his trust into others, thinking the best of them, believing that everyone is either as well-meaning and selfless as himself or misunderstood, and then when they aren't, he ends up paying for it. As a bird may find itself killed by an arrow winged with his own feather[1], so his brother found his misplaced trust left him heartbroken and mourning.It is because he gives, and gives, and gives. What is left of himself then? That is what Lan Zhan worries about constantly, because both his brother and his husband are cut from the same cloth in this instance. They're such relentless givers that they leave themselves with nothing. Defenceless and toothless against the takers of the world, and he wants—He wants to keep them safe. He just wants them safe, and happy, and well. Is that too much to ask?He tries his best, but there is only so much he can do. They won't let him shield them from everything, and it is through these little chinks in the armour where dangers creep in. It is in the most innocuous yet vital of times where he does not pay attention. He wastes his time and energy on lesser problems, and then when they need him to be there—He isn't. But this isn't about him, Lan Zhan repeats, even as the thoughts swirl in his head and guilt rises in his throat. This is his fault. He fails every time. Why is he always... why can he never—"I heard Sizhui was unwell?"Lan Zhan stops mid-lash. He puts down the mental whip for a second. The sudden turn in direction leaves his head spinning, but he nods wearily. "He's tired.""Sick?""No."Sizhui has been sleeping in the jingshi since he dropped by. Lan Zhan left him tucked in bed with Wei Ying, his husband surprisingly eager to stay with their son, despite him being completely knocked out (and therefore unavailable for teasing). Doesn't he look cute like this? Wei Ying had cooed, poking Sizhui's cheek till Lan Zhan grabbed his wrist. The man simply shuffled closer to get a better look at Sizhui's sleeping face, grinning when the boy's nose twitched. Then, when Sizhui rolled over to tuck himself against him, he'd squealed out Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan, look! and whilst it had been very sweet, Lan Zhan had to remind him to keep his voice down if he was planning on staying. Lan Xichen looks rather worried now. "And he's still sleeping, this late in the day?" "We haven't woken him. He needs rest."Exhaustion was a legitimate reason to take the day off in his opinion. Lan Zhan hadn't even bothered finding his uncle to give him the excuse. If he really wanted to chase Sizhui down, he'd have to come to him to ask where he was, and in that case, he'd have to find him himself first. That ought to buy Sizhui the rest of the day to sleep. When Lan Zhan wanted to be, he could become as difficult to catch as smoke."He is like you," his brother murmurs, mouth twisting sideways. "Works himself too hard. It's a miracle he hasn't gotten sick." His tone implies: it's a miracle you haven't been taken down too. Please take care of yourself, brother. Lan Zhan hums. "He is more like you."That makes Lan Xichen laugh for real, cheeks flushing with pleasure. It is indeed a compliment to credit Sizhui's likeness to him. It's true though.Lan Zhan sees more of his brother in Sizhui than anyone else. In his gentleness, his fairness. In the way Sizhui cherishes people, but not in the way Lan Zhan does. He has Wei Ying's love of life, and Lan Zhan's dedication towards virtue, but that smile is all Lan Xichen's. Wei Ying has told him before that he also resembles Wen Ning in terms of his sense of humour and temperament, and so he is the best of all of them. But he is mostly his uncles. He is really a lot like them.That is another thing he worries about: what are the chances of Sizhui suffering the same fates as his uncles? Just because he is like them doesn't mean that future is for him, and he tells himself this every day, but the counterargument is equally as convincing: who's to say that he won't? The world is so big and full of danger. Sizhui is young and tenderhearted. In his mind, it's only a matter of time—"He is staying in your rooms then?"Again, he jolts. "Yes," he blurts automatically. "With Wei Ying."Lan Xichen squints. "And he's still asleep?""Song of Tranquility.""Ah.""He will be leading today's night-hunt."That is another reason why they needed him to sleep. The hunt was already arranged, and even though Jingyi offered to head the hunt himself, the two were stronger and better together. Both he and Wei Ying felt that Sizhui needed some time away from the Cloud Recesses too. Jin Ling would be meeting them, and Wen Ning too.Sizhui would be given the message to pass onto his uncle there, asking him to watch out for the old drunkard. Whether he'd agree or not was still unknown, but Lan Zhan was betting on a yes. If for nothing else, Wen Ning cared about Sizhui and was weak for anything the boy asked."Is that wise?"He nods. "After some rest, some time away... he will return feeling refreshed."Lan Xichen hums thoughtfully but concedes to his judgement. With a wry twist of his lips, "I suppose you're right. I miss night-hunting too. Aside from its main purpose, it's also great for stress relief."Lan Zhan's eyes slide to the corner of the room where Shuoyue has been gathering dust. As far as he knows, his brother hasn't touched it since that day in the temple. He'd cleaned it for him, scraping blood off and oiling the blade. The tassel had to be replaced, so stained it was with red that the fibres were glued together. He would do anything to see his brother with a sword in his hand again. He would hammer a new blade for him himself if he could. Ideally, his brother would never have a need to wield a sword again, but in this big, dangerous world, the bond between cultivator and sword was crucial. Forged during the smelting of the iron, the spiritual energy poured into the blade tied the sword to the life of its owner forever.He wouldn't be able to create anything to match Shuoyue that could please his brother the same way it would. Lan Xichen was renowned for his sword-skill. He would only embarrass his brother by trying to help him again—
I know I am taking far too long to recover.
Would that they could—that the world had no need for them to fight. If Lan Zhan could keep the blood off his brother's hands, he'd do it. He'd fight for him, just as he fights for Wei Ying. Even if that meant bathing in the blood of monsters and demons, he would...This is what it always comes to with him. That fine line between protecting and becoming overbearing is something he struggles to define. It's been said to Lan Zhan that it is in his blood to love too strongly. Just like his father, they say, observing his mask of indifference with clouded eyes. Cold outside, hot inside, but the tighter he holds onto them, the more his loved ones burn. They stripped him down like that and shoved him into his father's clothes, then clicked their tongues at how well they fit him, and how easily he wore them. That Zewu-Jun though is more like the mother, in his smile and bearing at the very least. (How can they say so when they have never seen her smile? How can they claim to have known her at all?) Which parent's footsteps does he follow in then? Both locked away for the rest of their days. It really is such a shame—
Do you even care? It’s as if you’re all fine with leaving him to rot—
He can do nothing right, it seems. Do something, he does too much. Do nothing, he comes off as uncaring. Protect him, he becomes overbearing. Leave him, he... he cannot risk that either."Did you need something?"Lan Xichen has packed the pigments away now, stacked the papers up, wrapped the brushes into a bundle, and is standing by his side, waiting. Lan Zhan quickly rises to meet him and holds his hands out. After a moment he is given the box to carry. That which used to take all of his child self's concentration and strength to lift, he now holds in one hand.The two clear up the rest of the books in perfect silence and then head out. Step by step, their footsteps eventually merge, then fall as one.By the time they are leaving the Library Pavilion, Lan Zhan feels like something has been settled between them. He watches his brother tilt his head back, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the smell of dusty stone after a rainfall. It has stopped finally, after what seems like weeks of never-ending rain.The walk back to the hanshi is quiet, but it works like a soothing balm that smoothes the turmoil inside him till Lan Zhan feels peace in his heart again. It is a fair distance though, and he can sense his brother flagging midway through. He would volunteer to carry him back if it weren't for the heads of various disciples spinning around as they passed by, eyes sparkling with soft wonder and mouths curving in delight.It must be exciting to see the First Jade out and about after not seeing him for so long. Lan Xichen keeps his gaze straight ahead, his expression as calm and welcoming as ever. Already, Lan Zhan has decided to ignore the fact that the disciples are probably gossiping about them, figuring that trying to issue a widespread punishment will be more trouble than it's worth.As they approach the end of their walk, Lan Xichen stops abruptly with his face turned to the side. Immediately, Lan Zhan swerves around to see where he is looking, but it's just a patch of grass. He waits for his brother to explain."I've been thinking recently," he murmurs as if talking to himself, "That I might want to change something.""Change something?""Mm. The hanshi is... it's small, and I grow tired of seeing the same four walls, day after day."Could this be... Lan Zhan's chest goes tight. "You want—""To change the place where I spend my days, yes." Lan Xichen continues to stare off in that direction, his mind a million miles away. There is nothing there though. Unless... "I think I would like to move into our mother's house."His blood runs cold. Their mother's house? Lan Zhan's mind blanks. Of course, he knew that was there beyond that point, but... but—"I need a change of scenery." A change of scenery. Exactly what type of scenery is he thinking of? A prison? A view from an empty house that looks onto the burnt remains of another?Their mother's house hadn't been too badly ruined by the Wens because as soon as they realised that the place lay uninhabited, the Wens decided to turn their efforts more towards humiliating the living than wasting time on an empty room. The hanshi and jingshi hadn't been damaged too badly either because the main focus of the Wens' mission had been to subjugate the clan proper, and so it essentially became a manhunt for the Sect Leader.The rest of the clan were helpless to watch as they dragged him out, torches held in trembling hands as they were forced to burn their own homes. Their father's house was never properly rebuilt afterwards and remains, to this day, in a dilapidated state.By the time Lan Xichen returned to the Cloud Recesses and found it that way, he'd put in a good amount of effort to get it repaired but the resources were needed elsewhere, so he stopped work. It didn't make sense to waste them on an abandoned house. They let nature reclaim it, spilling over the broken walls and crumbling wood with green vines and moss. (The hanshi used to be the room located closest to their parents, but when he'd been younger Lan Zhan hadn't been happy to learn that the jingshi was so far away from the rest of his family, so Lan Xichen offered to swap with him, and he'd accepted.Even so, he'd insisted on sleeping in his brother's room for a while. Lan Xichen hadn't minded at all. They were both so young back then. Lan Zhan hadn't quite grasped why their family was so segregated: with mother and father in different houses, and he and A-Huan left alone.The gift of the hanshi and jingshi were meant to instil a sense of independence in them, but Lan Zhan had struggled to understand why they were being separated even further. It had frightened him to think that he might be only able to see A-Huan once a month like his parents.Seeing this, his brother swore to him that would never happen. He dragged sheets down, hooking them over the ends of the bookshelves and backs of chairs, and built a nest of blankets underneath for them to lie on.If you close your eyes, he would say to him softly, every night they spent curled up under that warm canopy, it's almost like we're all under the same roof. Stroking his hair till his eyes fell shut, he'd whisper, can you sleep now, little brother?)Lan Zhan doesn't know what to say, except, "Why?""It'll help with my painting," Lan Xichen says, "And even though it is even further away from most other places, that will only force me to walk more. I find sometimes that the more I keep moving, the less things ache in my joints. The daily exercise might even help me build my strength back up, don't you think?"He could walk anywhere else though. He could 'get a change of scenery' from literally anywhere else. Why there? Lan Zhan wants to ask. Do you not understand? If you go there, I will have to come to see you every day. To do that, I will have to visit that house every day. To wait outside that door every day.He will do it, of course, even if it means digging up memories long-buried and revisiting old pains that he'd rather leave behind.(A-Zhan! Have you been waiting long, my son? she'd laugh when she opened the door only to find him already there. What a patient child I have!Then the door was shut, the house locked. No one came for them anymore, and Father wouldn't see them for a long time after. Still, Lan Zhan came, but he was never alone. You cannot wait forever, dìdì. The words were said as a kindness meant to free him, but he didn't want to leave her. He couldn't, he didn't want to—)"A-Zhan?"The chill seeps into his bones. He still brings flowers sometimes. There are clan members who are responsible for the upkeep of her house. He hasn't actually stepped foot in the place for thirty years. "Brother really wants this?" He hears the words float out of his mouth as if disembodied and tries to picture himself under that warm, soft canopy again.He can't.His brother, A-Huan, turns to him with eyes that read him, that know him like the back of his hand. "Only if it's okay with you. If it's easier, I could always spend the daytime there and return to the hanshi at night."But the distance between the hanshi and their mother's house is too big. If he were to travel back and forth in the day, he'll get so worn out. If his brother really wants this, then he must make it easier for him.Lan Zhan considers offering to swap the jingshi for the hanshi again, but it'll be rather awkward to do that, with all the things they have gathered in their rooms. He wouldn't mind, but Lan Xichen might. He has a large collection of belongings in his hanshi, and they are both used to their own spaces now. "It's alright, dìdì," Lan Xichen says, patting his arm. "It was just a thought.""If we move some of your things to... to mother's house," Lan Zhan's breath stutters, but he continues: "Then if you are tired, you won't have to walk so far at the end of each day."Did he not just say that he would do anything for his brother? If that is the case, then how can his own comfort compare to his brother's? If he wants it, Lan Zhan will give it, just as his brother has given him countless other things.Lan Xichen stares at him, then slowly smiles like the sun rising. "That is an even better idea. I—thank you, brother." Squeezing his hand gently, "You are really too good to me."Gritting his teeth, he smiles back, imagining the warmth of that touch that he cannot feel. Anything, he tells himself. Anything for him. (A-Zhan can have the hanshi if he wants. Or we can swap if that's easier, the young master had announced, pulling his shy younger brother till he was tucked close by his side. It's really not a problem! I don't mind at all. What do you say, dìdì?) "Why is it," he asks, "That it seems I cannot take three steps in any direction without somehow walking into you?"The other blinks. "Isn't that how it's always been between us?"A pause. "I suppose you're right. I guess I am just that unlucky.""Hey!"The scuffle that ensues ends with Wei Wuxian resenting his new height (once again) and Jiang Cheng wondering whether sticky fingers come with every incarnation of his brother. "Give it back."Wei Wuxian dances away, ducking under Jiang Cheng's arm to his displeasure, and opening the neatly folded paper with two flicks of his thumbs. "Oo—ohh?" The drawing is held up to the light, allowing Jiang Cheng to reach it, but Wei Wuxian tightens his hold so he cannot snatch it away without it tearing. "A dragonfly?""Mm.""Brother Xichen did this?""Yes.""Ah, he's very talented.""Yes, now will you give it back?"Sensing Jiang Cheng's pot about to boil over, Wei Wuxian relinquishes the drawing and watches the water simmer down again as his brother folds it back up carefully. Disaster averted, Wei Wuxian can't help but sidle closer again, the phrase 'once bitten, twice shy' being something that has never applied to him."A-Cheng," he grins, latching onto his brother's arm. "Are you and Brother Xichen making friends?""Why does everything coming out of your mouth always have to sound so stupid?" The man shrugs him off, marching away in long, echoing strides. Halfway down the corridor, "So what if we are?""Careful, your foot!""It's fine."It's fine in the sense that the break has been fixed, though the flesh is still tender and with each step, the bones grind uncomfortably. Jiang Cheng doesn't care about the pain though. He has learnt that if you work through it, you become so accustomed to the pain that you can convince yourself you no longer feel it.Wei Wuxian follows after him, and of course the two bicker all the way along. Their walk leads to nowhere in particular, meandering through the still-mostly-vacant walkways. Despite the rains having stopped, the air remains cold and thick in the throat, and many have decided to stay indoors. For two Yunmeng men though, humidity like this is actually rather comfortable to walk around in, despite the chill."Oh, look."Jiang Cheng trips as his brother pivots them around to face a watercolour that stretches over a large expanse of wall. The painting is unmistakably that of a Gusu landscape, and that broken tree looks identical to the one that Wei Wuxian used to like lounging around on when they were students, its snake-like trunk hanging low and reflecting in the limpid waters.The detail is stunningly realistic, with the contrast between sharp focus and hazy mist really capturing the essence of the mountains. Jiang Cheng finds himself most drawn to the waters though; their glistening surfaces that almost seem to ripple off the paper—Wei Wuxian plucks the dragonfly drawing out of Jiang Cheng's limp fingers, holding it up against the painting. "Hm."He's right, Jiang Cheng thinks, eyes going wide as he immediately spots the similarities in technique.His brother shoots him a sharp, toothy grin. "Looks like you have a Zewu-Jun original. Lucky, lucky!"Jiang Cheng is aware that there are more paintings scattered around the place, but he never realised... the exterior walls to the Cloud Recesses are generally very open on the lower floors, the delicate lattice screens and slender columns giving the effect of a floating palace in the sky. It means that there is little wall-space available for decoration though, so it's only in the more enclosed areas where artwork can be displayed.Even then, most decorations are left in the background, to allow the dramatic scenery outdoors that seeps in from every side to take centre-stage. What a shame. Jiang Cheng realises he has been caught in the same spell as intended by whoever designed these interiors—so used to looking out at the mountains, the serene waterfalls, the elegant trees, that he's never spent any time admiring these masterpieces."He painted all of these?""How should I know? Maybe you should ask him yourself."Jiang Cheng walks from one end to the other, finally taking in the splendour of this new discovery. The corridor leads to a sky well that slices a long gash through the roof above. The slanted afternoon sun shoots a harsh strip of light diagonally across the room. The deeply recessed sides are mostly unadorned, but again—there is another painting hung on the other side.Wei Wuxian follows him over, but as he wanders around to admire it from different angles, Jiang Cheng finds himself rooted to the spot."This must have been painted quite a while ago," Wei Wuxian muses, playing detective. "The paper is yellowed, see? Still in excellent condition though—""That tree." Jiang Cheng falters, his fingers hovering right above the paper. He can feel it there. A glimmer of qi imbued in the ink that has long since dried, energy floating on every brushstroke. "That tree isn't... it's not there anymore."The tree he is referring to is the one that marks the halfway point to the Library Pavilion, perched atop a slope on the mountainside with a waterfall beside it.As far as Jiang Cheng knows, the Wens' invasion had scorched a trail of destruction straight through the main house and laid waste to the ancestral hall, but their main goal had been to find Qingheng-Jun. Everyone knows that the easiest way to subdue an entire Sect is to treat it like a snake. Cut off the head, and the body will die.They'd stormed through to the Library Pavilion to find him. They'd also tried to destroy the Lans' precious collection of records, but Lan WangJi infamously stood guard and refused to let them pass. On the way, he figures the Wens must have taken a torch to the poor tree as well, for no other reason than to see it burn.Wei Wuxian tilts his head. "Huh, you're right.""Must have been painted before they... before the Cloud Recesses were burnt down."The brothers stare at the painting as a heavy shroud falls upon their shoulders, the ghost of those accursed days dimming their eyes. "It could've been done afterwards," Wei Wuxian suggests weakly. "Painted from memory."Jiang Cheng doesn't think so, even though it would make sense if it had been (because how else would it have survived the fire?). The emotion this painting evokes is too innocent in his mind, with such clean soothing colours and a sense of peace radiating from it... it is untouched by pain. He feels in his heart that this was something Lan Xichen created before their lives were touched by darkness. Before the storm came.For some reason, he finds it hard to admire the beauty of the past without feeling—without wanting to stand there for the rest of the day, gazing upon it with an aching longing for those days again.Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Wuxian by the elbow, dragging him back to the (safer) outer edges of the main house. He gulps in lungfuls of fresh air, going to lean on one of those rain-beaten balustrades. The stone is a different kind of smooth under his hand, worn down by relentless rains instead of being eroded by a lapping tide."Jiang Cheng, I can't help wondering..."He jerks, shaken out of his brooding by his brother's oddly hesitant voice. "Hm?""Is the reason you spoke on Brother Xichen's behalf the other day because you are friends? I don't... I can't remember if you were before, and I don't know what may have passed between you two when I was gone, but..." It's a genuine question. No teasing, no-frills. Jiang Cheng knows about Wei Wuxian's poor memory, but he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't that. I can't explain myself why I—I don't have a reason why I said those things." Huffing aloud, he cannot prevent a bitterness seeping into his tone. "To be honest, I can't even remember what I said, let alone why I said it."Wei Wuxian hums, but not dismissively. He shrugs at him, lips quirking slightly. "I actually came looking for you to tell you that this morning, Lan Zhan was quite shocked to learn about your meeting with his brother. He seemed rather upset by that—why are you looking at me like that?""Why was he shocked? Didn't he arrange it himself?"He blinks twice. "No?""But last night Jingyi came with a message for me," Jiang Cheng protests. "Jingyi was the one who came to tell us about it this morning," Wei Wuxian replies. Then he breaks out grinning. "Do you think it was Brother Xichen who sent for you then?" Pointing at the painting, "I mean, if he's that good a painter, surely a forgery can't be too difficult.""But why would he—not everyone's like you, you know. Honestly. Forgery?" Jiang Cheng pulls out the note from last night, and both of them crowd together to study it. "Well damn. That's... that's his handwriting. I guess I didn't notice before.""So he did arrange the meeting himself. Hm." Wei Wuxian plucks at his lip. "Another thing I probably shouldn't be telling you (Jiang Cheng's eyes widen at this, but he ignores it) is that Lan Zhan was upset because he had been about to send his own message to you. Look," he pulls out a crumpled note to show him, similar to the one Lan Xichen wrote, detailing a meeting that would commence this afternoon."Huh."It... it isn't something he should consider too deeply, but Jiang Cheng has become an expert at recognising olive branches being thrown in his direction. This is some sort of... of goodwill gesture he cannot help but acknowledge. It's not forgiveness, because there hasn't even been an apology yet, but it's something."I would have waited for this, had I known." Wei Wuxian smiles gently but then turns to face him fully. Despite their height difference, Jiang Cheng suddenly feels alarmingly small from the way he's squinting at him. "What?"He shakes his head. "You two. You're both so stubborn. This thing between you doesn't have to be as big of a deal as you're making it.""Is it my fault then? I know that," Jiang Cheng snaps. He quickly reigns it in when his brother stiffens. "I know that, but I—""But you what?" Wei Wuxian purses his lips. "I don't understand what's going on between you two. This thing, whatever it is, seems to be more than it looks. Can you at least try to explain to me what's going on in your head? Because Lan Zhan isn't telling me anything. I'll tell you what it looks like to me though: two kids fighting over something."Do you have any idea what that 'something' is?"Jiang Cheng can only stare at his brother, who literally is that something, and wonder how he cannot see it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what or who is the only thing connecting Lan Wangji to him: Wei Wuxian, of course.That something that continues to eat at him like acid rain is the fact that his brother came back to life after thirteen years, only to be whisked off on a whirlwind adventure and end up falling in love along the way. He was not really a part of any of it. The parts Jiang Cheng played in their story were so minimal, in his opinion, that he barely featured at all; but that was not what stings.What stings is that from death to life again, Wei Wuxian did not once look back and think, oh that's right, I have a brother too. A brother who was also waiting for me all these years. I should probably go let him know he's not been forgotten.In fact, if Jiang Cheng really wants to go to the start of everything—to the moment Wei Wuxian actually became that 'something', it began long before his untimely death.From the moment they walked into the Cloud Recesses he was lost. Maybe it was after the incident with the Waterborne Abyss, when Jiang Cheng began to realise that he couldn't hold a candle to Lan Wangji. He failed to stop him from falling into the water, that was the moment he stopped being his, because if he couldn't save his brother what good was he to him?Lan Wangji became Wei Wuxian's knight in shining armour—his weakness and strength. He became a wedge between the brothers without him even being there. Everything that followed from that moment in time, from what happened in the Xuanwu's cave to the devastation of Lotus Pier, it all...For so long, Jiang Cheng has just wanted for them to go back. For his brother to come back to him—to be able to take Wei Wuxian home with him, and live together in peace, as they'd sworn to do.But then his brother broke that promise he'd been holding onto for all these years.Whilst he was weeping in front of a crowd, with no chance of saving a scrap of face left, pierced through the chest, and begging on his knees, hearing I’m sorry, I broke my promise, was what had hurt him the most. Realising how low on the list he ranked in his brother's life, whilst Wei Wuxian had always been at the top—it hurt.The irony was that for all his griping about his brother always being the person he was measured against, he used him to measure the value of his own life's worth too, at every turn.And did he blame Wei Wuxian for all of this? For being the person who has haunted him for years? Is he not supposed to hate him? How can he when he wants him by his side?It's you, he wants to say. You're the something. You, my brother, who he took away from me."I don't," he chokes out, clearing his throat when his brother frowns. "There is nothing at all between us. It's just the way we have always been.""Hmm." Wei Wuxian wrinkles his nose. "I'm not sure I believe you. This reeks of something.""Not as much as you reek."It is better to fall into these simpler barbs and taunts, than to think about all the things he wants and cannot have. The Yiling Patriarch gasps as though he's been whipped, flips his hair over his shoulder dramatically, and stomps away as though mortally offended. Jiang Cheng trails after him, treading heavily on his swollen foot. Wei Wuxian whirls around again, almost smashing head-first into him. Jiang Cheng opens his mouth, but Wei Wuxian gets there first."You and me though," he says, grabbing Jiang Cheng by the shoulders. "We're okay though, aren't we? We at least know what our 'something' is?"Jiang Cheng considers this.Their volley of olive branches began from his first toss at the temple incident, when he returned Chenqing to Wei Wuxian. Then a month later, when Jin Ling went on another night-hunt with the other juniors, he sent a small package of sweets to give to him. Bit by bit, with packages first and letters later, things became easier between them.It was Jiang Cheng who reached out first, because it had to be him who would decide whether they should step over their past or not, and he... their 'something' was a giant, tangled mess of things that they were both incredibly aware of, and wanted to be rid of.There was the water under their bridge which was red with blood, fed by countless tears, and carved so deep that at one point it had been impossible to cross. There was the core that beat in both their hearts, that gave Jiang Cheng life at the cost of his everything. Despite all this, Jiang Cheng chose to meet him over a bridge of bones, with each solid step crushing the past underfoot.Because this thing they're building together is something he can have, even if it isn't what he wanted."I suppose we are," he replies quietly. "Good." Wei Wuxian's eyes brighten. His fingers tighten on him for a moment, and then he smiles. "Good. I think... I think something about you has changed, A-Cheng.""Not changed, is changing.""Right, right. But you're less—you're more..." He pulls a face, struggling to find the right words. Unable to resist teasing him, "So which is it? Am I less or more?""More," Wei Wuxian declares, after leaning back exaggeratedly to assess him. "Definitely more."Jiang Cheng shrugs. "Then I guess I'm learning." Just as Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to ask learning what? he continues, "Anyway, I meant to ask: when will you and Lan Wangji be leaving?" Wei Wuxian shrugs back at him. "I don't know. Soon?""Hopeless." Rolling his eyes, "Well, if it's—if it's alright with him, I'd like to offer to help in whatever way I can. If you want, I am willing to accompany you—""Actually, Lan Zhan and I prefer to use a certain strategy when we do investigative work that tends to be more effective with just the two of us."Of course it does. Jiang Cheng barely resists the urge to clench his fists, clenching his jaw instead. "I see.""Yeah, but you're going to be staying here for a while longer anyway, aren't you?" "Till the end of the week.""Right, but maybe you could—that is, if you aren't too busy, maybe you could keep an eye out for Brother Xichen for us?" Wei Wuxian carefully lets go of him, stepping backwards to put some space between them. Jiang Cheng watches this with not a hint of emotion on his face. "It's just an idea, but...""Fine," Jiang Cheng says dully. Babysitting duties, how flattering. Despite this, he finds himself already planning out the next few months to fit in some visits to Gusu. "I can do that.""You sure?" Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. It's not like Wei Wuxian to be like this, but maybe he can sense his disappointment. He huffs. "If I said I'll do it, that means I'll do it!""Okay, okay, I was just trying to be considerate. You don't need to snap." Even so, he dithers for a bit. "You're sure it won't become a problem for you?""As I said, I'm already staying until the end of the week. I might as well keep an eye on him, and I suppose." Scrunching up his nose, "I can examine his qi more closely whilst I'm here and let you know what I find. After that... we'll see.""You're not worried about spending too much time away from Lotus Pier, then?" Wei Wuxian asks, squinting. "Not going to get in trouble for it?""I'm the Sect Leader. Who's going to put me over their knee, eh? Idiot!" Jiang Cheng scoffs.His brother continues to eye him, leaning closer and closer till they are almost nose-to-nose. "You sound like you're avoiding something, Jiang Cheng." Face lighting up, "Oh! Is it the Council again? Are they still on you about the—""No, it's not that." Since the arranged marriage issue is an ongoing problem, it's not something the Council bother trying to leash him with (otherwise he'd never be allowed to leave Lotus Pier). Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again. "Look, it's not like they're counting the days till I get back, so don't worry about it.""What do you mean?"What he means is that the faces that greet him every time he returns to Lotus Pier are never smiling, never pleased to see him. It's no secret that his sect members much prefer it when he is away, and the moment he steps one foot back in the Pier a whole network of whispers follows him all the way home, warning people that the Master is coming as if he were a pack of fierce corpses heading for the Pier instead of a very tired man returning to his home.It's not the best feeling, but after years of this kind of treatment, he is resigned to receiving this type of reception. It is just the way things are."Jiang Cheng..."When he raises his head again, Wei Wuxian is gawking at him. Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why for a moment, but then—did he say that aloud? "It's nothing," he barks, shoving his brother away. His face heats up immediately. Did he really say that? How pathetic. What does it matter to him what his clan thinks of him? It's not like he needs them to like him.
What a fragile person I am.
"I'll tell you what really pisses me off: coming back to find them all slacking off because I'm not around, staring at me with such dumb faces. Psh!" He crosses his arms, tucking trembling fingers under his elbows. "It's not like I..."It's not like he cares that their faces aren't the ones he sees in his dreams every night. It's not like he cares that these people aren't the ones he remembers, that he grew up with... that watched him grow...Though enough time has passed for him to have learnt their names, and he knows them reasonably well enough to be up-to-date with most clan affairs... sometimes he will hear them reminiscing about the life they had back where they grew up out on the borders of Yunmeng, farming rice on stacked paddy fields where their cultured lakes were stacked up high to the heavens. He'll hear them reflecting on this rural life, blissful in its simplicity, with wistful tones and sad smiles.Most days he'll be talking oranges and they'll be talking apples. Well, maybe the differences aren't really that stark, but in a way, it's worse to spot them in the smaller details.That the food isn't cooked the same way he remembers, even if they are made using the same ingredients. That it's only the younger generations who are able to run around the Pier knowing every corner of it like the back of their hands. That dialects have come from all over Yunmeng, coalescing to form the current patchwork that is the new local accent, making his crisp consonants stick out like a sore thumb.Jiang Cheng is fine with all of this because it's to be expected, and so long as Lotus Pier is flourishing and the people are happy then all is good.The problem is that Jiang Cheng cannot know for certain that they are happy, even after all this time, because he knows that he stole them from their homes, summoning them with the power of his name, and using the war to force them to come... but the war is over now. It's been years. There is nothing keeping them there, only the fear that the Master might chase after them if they were to leave.Even if they think he might, he'd never actually do anything to them if they decided to leave. The door has always been wide open, and it's this uncertainty that keeps him up at night. He has to face it every time he returns from a trip, half-expecting to find that his home has become a ghost town in his absence.What really gets to him though, is that... whilst he has slowly gotten to know these people over the years, none of them really know him. It's hard to love Lotus Pier the way he used to anymore. He misses home, but he misses it even more when he's there. It haunts him to live in a place so bustling yet so empty. Wandering the streets like a ghost, searching for the places and people he used to know—"A-Cheng." This time, Wei Wuxian has him by the arms again and is gazing up at him with a pained grimace. "Why didn't you tell me?"Oh god no. Did he fucking do it again—"What the fuck," he blurts. What the fuck is he doing? Since when did he lose his brain-to-mouth filter? "Forget it. Forget what I said! It's not—I didn't mean it.""Yes, you did." His brother tries to pull him closer, but Jiang Cheng twists out of his grip. His eyes are burning, bright with tears. "A-Cheng, you... why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"The laugh is ripped out of him. "What could you have done about it?"He shoves Wei Wuxian again, hard enough that he falls back into the balustrade. The breath is knocked out of him, but even with his head bowed and turned away from him, he can hear the plop of Wei Wuxian's tears hitting the stone. What the fuck? Tears? The Wei Wuxian he used to know never used to cry this easily. What is he even crying for? Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. "What could you have done? You were dead, and then you were—you don't even live there anymore. What does it matter to you? Why do you even care?" Unable to bear that pitying expression any longer, Jiang Cheng spins on his heel. "Forget it," he snarls, and finally turns to leave. Clutching his armful of things close to him, Lan Xichen wonders whether it has become his fate to always end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, overhearing things that he really shouldn't. The Cloud Recesses isn't small by any means, so how does this keep happening??He presses himself against the column when Jiang Cheng storms past. After a moment, he hears Wei Wuxian mutter "fuck" under his breath and stagger off in the opposite direction. For the first time ever, he is glad that his spiritual energy has been depleted. That was too close. If they'd sensed him there... Lan Xichen closes his eyes, lifting a quivering hand to his mouth. That poor man. I miss home, but I miss it even more when I am there, so... What does it matter to you? Why do you even care? When he opens his eyes, they land on the opposite wall that used to be embellished with their clan emblem. That wall used to be bare, not painted white, but the wood was blackened too badly to leave uncovered. He never considered what it must be like to be the last member of your sect, living in a place that was your home—that was destroyed, where no one else remembers what home is supposed to be like. He's been to Lotus Pier since its burning, and as far as he knew it was rebuilt to be almost identical to how it was, but Lan Xichen knows—He knows that the initial steps of rebuilding aren't the difficult parts. It's what comes later that is difficult: adding on the parts that seem unnecessary, but are in fact crucial to the whole. He knows the difficulty of describing how things must be done to someone else. How important it is to get everything right, down to the exact dimensions of a wall carving or the way the floor sounds when you walk upon it. When rubble is all that is left of your home you build the essential parts first, but after that you try your best to make it look right, and it is a labour of love that can take years. Even then it might never be the same, and you know that, but still—you try. In Lan Xichen's case, he'd had a clan of other people who remembered things where he forgot. What type of fabric they favoured for curtains, what type of wood they tended to use, how the rooms should be laid out, what tools were needed for carving those decorative screens. These were the details which made the Cloud Recesses a home again, that made it easier to pretend that the Wens' attack never happened.It gave them the strength to live there again, to be willing to make new memories in the ashes of the old and forgotten. It was from the hearts of all the people who had lived there that the Cloud Recesses was reborn. But what about Jiang Cheng? He'd been left all alone. During the Sunshot Campaign, the Jiang siblings managed to build what was needed, but the fine details were not started until years afterwards when the family of three were reduced to one. He'd been the sole survivor, and so it fell on him to remember. It came down to one person who could restore Lotus Pier to its former glory. Who could build it back the way it used to be. And he'd done it. Somehow, he'd managed it.But clearly it was still not right. Clearly it hadn't managed to give him peace. Because you can rebuild the walls, floors, and furnishings of a home, but you cannot replace the people who used to live there. The sounds of their voices no more than whispers in the wind. Their faces a blurry shadow in your heart. Lan Xichen finds the books in his arms have grown heavy, or maybe it's the ache that he feels deep inside him, that has him feeling like the lightest touch might make him shatter. With a heavy sigh, he makes to leave. He regrets it moments later when he steps out onto the same walkway Wei Wuxian used, only to find him sitting on the deck, his head bent and shoulders shaking.He almost considers approaching him, offering his shoulder to cry on. He is (after all) his brother-in-law now, and even if he weren't, Lan Xichen cannot stand it when people cry—But he was never meant to be here. He was never meant to hear any of this. This is none of his business.Wei Wuxian shudders, wiping his nose. "Shijie," he croaks, tipping his head back. Lan Xichen watches him, eyes stinging. "Shijie, he's hurting. What do I do?"No. He can't do this.And so, he leaves. The room is empty when he returns, and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to remember why.Then he drops onto the bed like a rock and stares at the floor between his knees for... minutes. Maybe hours. No, it's not that long. He doesn't allow himself more than half an hour to get himself sorted.Slowly, the urge to break something drains out of him. The clawing hollowness remains, but he asks himself, what good will it do to pay it any mind? From his experience, he knows that to pay that darkness inside him any attention is to feed it, and so it grows—and so he doesn't. He slams a lid on the abyss. He bites his lips bloody to abate the hunger.Jiang Cheng ponders whether meditation might help soothe his mind, or even going outside (whilst the weather is reasonably good) to lose himself in some sword training, but then he opens his eyes and finds—Two letters on the table, waiting for him. Ah, that's right. One has been there since this morning but he had no time to read it before the meeting. The second is from—he frowns, snatching it up. Lan Xichen? But when did he...?Jiang Cheng grabs the first one, his heart picking up when he realises who it's from.The contents are not what he'd been expecting though. Instead of the usual updates about exciting night-hunts, instead of queries relating to official business (signed proudly by Sect Leader Jin of Lanling), this is a mess of a letter, scrawled haphazardly and signed by A-Ling of Yunmeng. Uncle, it starts, and goes on to describe... something. A really bizarre something. According to Jin Ling, one of Jiang Cheng's sect members has been harassing him, and he wants Jiang Cheng to deal with them. This person is a woman, Jin Ling emphasises, underlining this twice before going on to say that she is being a pest, and that she refuses to leave him alone. Jin Ling pauses here, to stress that she is not dangerous, and not to worry, he has everything under control, really. He just wants some advice on what to do about her, because she's really annoying.After reading a whole paragraph where Jin Ling states, in as many different ways he can, the fact that he absolutely has this handled, Uncle, please don't freak out— Jiang Cheng finds himself freaking out.(Why else would Jin Ling write to him if he didn't want his help? Though he is a spoiled brat, he's also got an independent streak a mile wide and wouldn't come running to Jiang Cheng if the situation weren't dire, as in 'this thing is getting seriously out of control, but I've tried everything, so send me some help please, Uncle' urgent.)Jiang Cheng takes in a deep breath and then forces himself to read on, as Zidian begins to glow on his finger, the stone humming warningly.In the next paragraph, Jin Ling goes back to the very beginning, describing when and where he actually met this woman, which was on his way back to Lanling as he was passing through Caiyi Town. She stuck out immediately to him because she was wearing Yunmeng Jiang's colours and handing out leaflets.At first, he'd thought she was a beggar, but then she told him she was trying to find her grandfather who was lost. Jin Ling tried to help her for a while, but apparently, she lost interest in searching for him after only a few hours, and instead began to insist that Jin Ling take her back to Lanling with him instead. She followed him out of Gusu, and after that, he really didn't know what to do because even though he tried to leave her behind in a passing town, when he arrived at Koi Tower she was already there.Ghost? Jiang Cheng considers, but Jin Ling writes that he has had his men perform all the different exorcism tests on her. She's not a ghost, spirit, fierce corpse, or demon.
Personally, I think she's mentally ill,
Jin Ling writes (confirming Jiang Cheng's own thoughts),
I know this cannot be proven, but she keeps doing really weird things, and nothing she says makes sense, so I'm pretty sure that I'm right.
He finishes by saying that the girl (oh, so it's a
girl
now?) is currently fixated on joining the Jin Sect and isn't taking no for an answer.
What did you do, Uncle? he writes accusingly. He can picture Jin Ling grinning at him, seconds away from throwing his head back in a laugh. How badly are you scaring off your followers to have them come running to me for help? He's joking, and yet Jiang Cheng can't find it in himself to smile. For something like this to be said to him so soon after... well. It's hitting a little too close to home.Jiang Cheng shakes his head. No more thinking about that.Reading the letter over again, all he can think is: this is fucking disturbing. This woman (or girl) sounds like trouble, but if Jin Ling insists that she's no danger to him, then what the fuck does he want Jiang Cheng to do? Give him advice? What advice? Jin Ling must know what Jiang Cheng's answer would be to this: tell the bitch to fuck off, would be it.Despite her seeming to be from his clan, Jiang Cheng cannot recognise the woman Jin Ling has described. Of course, he doesn't know everyone in his clan well enough to be able to identify them from a vaguely written account, but this behaviour would be impossible to forget if she is truly as strange as Jin Ling claims.Yunmeng Jiang takes care of its own number of handicapped, mentally impaired and disabled people, so she would be logged onto the register if she was from their clan. Also, Jiang Cheng is generally aware of who is on that list.Aside from deducing that this woman is not from his clan, all he can tell from Jin Ling's report is that this woman needs help and that it sounds like she might be homeless.That draws him to a halt.
(Was he a beggar? Should we not have helped him?)
Could this be another coincidence, or could this woman and the man from yesterday be connected?Half of Jiang Cheng considers the possibility of this, whilst the other half falls into a weird state of—of looking back at recent events and... hm. He's not quite sure how to explain why he's doing what he's doing, but when he looks back on yesterday and then this morning, Jiang Cheng can't help thinking about Lan Xichen. What would he think about this situation? What type of advice would he give?Yesterday, in spite of the fact that none of them knew whether the old man had come intending to harm anyone or not, he'd immediately spoken up in his defence. (Once again, Jiang Cheng is struck by the thought that Lan Xichen would have gotten on very well with his A-Jie. They might have even become friends, had they got the chance to, with both of them being the same type of person—kind to a fault, and always looking out for others' wellbeing. Always giving others the benefit of the doubt.)He, on the other hand, is not so gentle, and not by any means kind. And his priority is Jin Ling, first and foremost. Jiang Cheng picks up his brush and very quickly lays out what must happen. You need to make sure this woman leaves. You have enough on your plate. Tell her that if she does not comply, you will have no option but to use force to remove her. His brush runs dry here, and he... as he stirs up some more ink, he cannot stop his mind from going back to the morning's meeting.The memory of it stills his hand.
[When he'd entered the Library Pavilion, and the first thing Lan Xichen said was: "Oh. Back in your own clothes again, I see."
Jiang Cheng had raised his brows at that. What, was he expecting him to stay in Jingyi's ill-fitting Gusu Lan whites for the entirety of his stay? Not fucking likely. Lan Xichen had smiled agreeably, almost as if he'd heard him speak, and gestured to the seat across from him.
The second thing he'd said was: "My answer is yes, by the way," pulling out Jiang Cheng's letter and waving it at him, "To this."
"You're kidding."
"I'm really not. Look here." He spread the letter out on the table between them, then brought out another sheet of paper to place beside it, this one a drawing of a dragonfly. "This is what I managed to paint after over a year of not practising once."
Jiang Cheng nodded. "It's good."
"It's awful. But these things take practice. These things take time. They never look good at first. What I see here," he tapped Jiang Cheng's scribble, "Is raw talent. So much potential, waiting to be developed. It's a seed that's waiting to be grown, Jiang Wanyin." Lan Xichen had looked up at him right then, as his name rolled off his tongue. "All it needs is a little time and patience, and it could bloom into something truly spectacular."
He hadn't known what to say to that, shifting uncomfortably because this was not what the meeting was supposed to be about. He had no idea how to divert the conversation back towards the actual agenda. "I thank you for your... encouragement," he'd begun, words stilted and formal. "But really, I have no interest in calligraphy, nor the time for it."
Lan Xichen had frowned at that. "I know you must be busy, but you have a talent here. Don't you think... do you really have no desire to refine it? Not even in your spare time, as a hobby?"
"Spare time? Hobby?" He'd managed to keep a straight face when Lan Xichen had gaped at him, but when he started to look concerned, he'd grinned. Then dropped that grin just as easily. "Joking aside, I'm really not interested."
Nodding slowly at this, "Is there any particular reason as to why?"
"I tend to care more about what words say than what they look like," Jiang Cheng found himself saying, folding his arms against Lan Xichen's piercing gaze. "That's basically it. Also, the spare time is an actual issue."
"You could practice it in your day-to-day letters."
He'd scoffed at that. "Formal correspondence written in—written like this?" He jabbed a finger at his scribbled note, "As if! They'd never be taken seriously!"
Lan Xichen raised his chin. "They will by me."
Stumped, he'd dropped his arms and scowled at the other man, abandoning any attempt to pretend he wasn't annoyed. "Why are you so persistent about this? What does it matter to you?"
"Because it's special," was his answer. "Because I hate to see something good left forgotten. Why are you so against it?" When Jiang Cheng refused to answer, he smiled. "You know, I still can't believe how many years we've known each other, yet I never knew you were capable of something like this. It seems to me that either you have also been completely unaware of your talent all this time, or you knew, but were determined not to acknowledge it. Which one was it?"
Jiang Cheng had flung out an arm at this. "Look," he'd said desperately, "So long as something is legible and coherent, that's good enough for me. You think I didn't have writing lessons? What young master isn't raised with a brush in their hand? I've done enough to learn what is needed, so what else do I have to gain from wasting my time on—on something like this?"
"You studied calligraphy?" Lan Xichen asked, sounding intrigued.
"Enough to pass the grade." At the look that gets him, Jiang Cheng pulled a face. "What? Like everyone else I have studied the Six Arts, but ask yourself this: out of sword skills or good brushwork, which do you think is more likely to save you from a bunch of fierce corpses? Which is most necessary to improve your cultivation? Which is a more worthwhile pursuit towards becoming a strong leader?"
"That depends on the situation."
This earned him a laugh, but Lan Xichen had only sighed.
"Creating talismans with this level of skill could be a 'worthwhile pursuit'. Practising calligraphy has been proven to improve vital energy stores, because when you channel energy to the dantian region and concentrate all your forces onto the tip of the brush, the ink becomes imbued with qi. It could therefore be considered a form of cultivation.
“Whether it is better to cultivate with a sword or a brush is unknown, but I believe you can cultivate with anything—or even nothing at all," he'd smiled again, "After all, what else is needed for meditation, other than a steady heart and open mind?"
Reluctantly, "You have me there."
The smile became brighter, spreading till he was radiating excitement. "But my friend, haven't you ever considered doing something purely for the pleasure of doing it? This could be it for you—something to do for no other reason than your own entertainment. Something that gives you joy."]
He has no idea why that conversation has stuck with him.Though he'd not entertained Lan Xichen's grand ideas any further than that, dismissing the idea of him becoming some sort of expert calligrapher in his free time with a twist of his lips, he'd dragged the writing equipment over during their talk and dutifully taken down notes under Lan Xichen's approving eye. Whilst they'd talked, Lan Xichen had brought out his own set of brushes and inks and sketched out things totally unrelated to their conversation.By the end of the meeting, the stack of papers was carefully gathered by the man, and he'd hummed happily as he looked them over. Jiang Cheng left them for him to keep, barely refraining from rolling his eyes as the man thanked him profoundly for this, handing him one painting in exchange. (Something that gives him joy. Sure thing.)My friend, he'd called him. Huh... well. Alright then. Perhaps it was this very part which is the reason all of this has lingered in his mind.The meeting had been so informal, with both of them basically doodling throughout, tossing ideas at each other as they idled about what might be useful for Jin Ling to learn. It had been nice in a way Jiang Cheng hadn't been expecting. Almost what he'd imagine it must be like when friends hang out.Is that what they are now? Friends? How... unexpected. Well, whether the advice he'd given was in itself, worth listening to or not, Lan Xichen was certainly very good at being convincing. Jiang Cheng was almost sold on the hobby idea. The friendship on the other hand... As Jiang Cheng turns back to his reply letter to Jin Ling, the words he wrote glare back at him. This woman needs to leave. Tell her that if she does not comply, you will have no option but to use force to remove her. Hm.Maybe Lan Xichen might have a better way of resolving this issue. Jiang Cheng picks up Lan Xichen's unopened envelope, which he still has no idea when he found time to write (lunchtime, probably?), and when he peels it open... ah. Each sentence has his eyebrows rising higher on his face.
Jiang Wanyin, I enjoyed our discussion this morning. I admire your dedication to Young Master Jin's education and find your commitment to him truly inspiring. Rest assured that I will make every effort to ensure that your requirements are met. We can verify the details at our next meeting. Until then, please enjoy your time at the Cloud Recesses—Lan Xichen.
His eyes stick to two words in particular. Admire. Inspiring. Lan Xichen finds him inspiring?He laughs aloud, wondering how a person like Lan Xichen could look at someone like him with admiration when so many others look at him in disgust. He knows what he's like and what he's done.They call him the man with no heart. Torturer of demonic cultivators and even innocents. Cruel to the point of making people cower at the mere mention of his name. Sandu Shengshou, the three poisons. Greed, anger, ignorance. He had been a slave to all of these things, to the point of madness. Not at all popular in his hometown (or anywhere, in fact), due to his terrible, raging temper.How can anyone look at him and admire him? They must be a fool.Lan Xichen must be a fool, Jiang Cheng thinks, shaking his head. My friend. The poor man. And how ironic, for him to admire him for being supposedly virtuous when he's been telling Jin Ling to... to...Jiang Cheng scrunches up the unfinished letter, pulls out a fresh piece of paper, and writes: I don't recognise this woman, but she sounds strong-willed. If she isn't a threat, then find somewhere for her to work. He pauses, thinking about the scarred woman he took into his sect after the whole fiasco of the previous year. She works in the kitchens now. What was her name? Ah yes, Sisi, that's right. Mentally unstable or not, if she's so hellbent on joining your sect, she might end up becoming useful to you. Give her something to do and keep an eye on her. Sisi makes really nice (the best) seed buns in Lotus Pier now, something which has earned her a lot of teasing from her fellow cooks, thanks to her previous occupation (which Jiang Cheng wasn't able to hide since her face told her story quite plainly). She seems relatively content with her new job though, all things considered.Mercy is an important attribute of a leader, not only for the sake of being righteous but also because it can benefit you in the long-run, even if you cannot see how at first. This is something Jiang Cheng wished he'd known earlier. There have been years where Gusu has asked for supplementary produce from Yunmeng due to landslides on the mountains destroying the majority of their crops. Food was sent to them, charged at a pittance, because... well, because he couldn't exactly let them starve, could he?There were times when Yunmeng was short on medical supplies or needed to use their libraries for research, and even considering the number of disciples they sent to the Cloud Recesses yearly... it worked out well between them. But those weren't proper examples of how merciful actions can bear fruit, because the act of mercy itself demands no reward. Those were merely the results of years of good relations between them, and thus they were to be expected.It only takes a moment of thought for him to find a better example.In the weeks after he was found by Lan WangJi and his men, after descending the mountain Wei Wuxian had sent him to climb to have his core (supposedly) restored, he ended up being picked up by the other Jade whilst Lan WangJi continued his search for Wei Wuxian.That had really been the start of his dealings with Gusu Lan as the new Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang, as Lan Xichen offered to take him to attend the clan head meeting held at the Cloud Recesses. All along the way, as Lan Xichen walked beside him he'd talked to him, promising him that they (Gusu Lan) would help him rally together those living under Yunmeng Jiang's protection, recruit new members for training, and establish a safe base for his clan.That was not his merciful act though. At the time, Jiang Cheng had been so consumed with his desire for revenge, that he'd barely listened to the other boy speak, but he stuck to him all the while. It sank somewhere deep inside him, and now he remembers. His one-sided conversation was like a trickle of rain on a dying flower.Even so, Jiang Cheng remembers how his calm voice held him steady throughout his turmoil. The few times Lan Xichen had left his side, he'd returned with blood on his blade and a tenseness around his eyes, but he'd smile at Jiang Cheng afterwards and ask what he'd missed. What Jiang Cheng had missed at the time, and had not known about until they reached the Cloud Recesses, was that all those times Lan Xichen was running off—he was running to the aid of whatever person needed it.Every cry for help he heard along their journey, he responded to. Jiang Cheng only saw the evidence of this when hundreds of men joined with them at the foot of the mountains. It was the combined effort of the Twin Jades that had accumulated an enormous number of followers. A cacophony of praise and pledges to the two brothers. Thanks to Young Master Lan, my clan has survived. Thanks to Second Young Master Lan, my family was saved. Only now, can Jiang Cheng appreciate the extent their merciful actions had on these people. They lent their help for one moment and gained their gratitude forever. Decades later and those clans who survived remain loyal to the brothers, often being the first to back the Gusu Lan during inter-clan debates. He can see how the way they have held their silence during Lan Xichen's seclusion, instead of slandering his name (as several others have), is in its own way a show of support.That is the difference between justice and mercy, he has come to realise. Where he sought justice for his family and clan, the vengeance that came from that yearning was a fire that burnt itself out after the war. The Lans' mercy, on the other hand, was given to any and all who asked for it, whether they deserved it or not. And so, to this day they continue to move mountains with the hands of thousands, all from having touched the hearts of those they had saved along the way. Jin Ling could do with having that sort of support, and developing that sort of attitude towards people will surely set him up well in life if Jiang Cheng is going by the Lans' example.Well... maybe not to the extent of Lan Xichen's recent blunder.Maybe the advice should be to: be merciful, but not too trusting. Is that what he should say? Drumming his fingers on the table, he wonders how such a small issue as this has grown into a poorly structured life lesson. He picks up the brush again, soaks it in ink. Give her a chance, A-Ling, he writes, his heart fluttering as the ink shines and then sinks into the page (What I see here is raw talent). He reads over his rather short reply one last time, his eye twitching when he wonders whether his wording might be interpreted wrongly. 'Give her a chance?' This is a woman—a girl, who is harassing his nephew... Jiang Cheng quickly adds: give her a chance, but not like that. You're far too young for that. He nods. That'll do.Then he stares at the careless swirl of his ink, the aggressiveness of his usual voice muted to a fluid line. This is addressed to A-Ling, not Sect Leader Jin (never that, so long as Jin Ling allows it). The things he's written are so unlike him. Give her a chance, instead of tell her to fuck off.He wonders what Jin Ling will think. The letter is barely half a page long, but the boy knows how to read between the lines with him. Even so, with this sort of advice, he's given he'll probably think it's a forgery.Who the hell wrote this? he can imagine Jin Ling growling, ripping up the letter and glowing with rage. This cannot be my uncle! Imposter!But maybe Lan Xichen is right about him. Maybe this is the truth that Jiang Cheng really meant to write—both in the words he chose, and the way they look. His true self shown in a loose, flowing script. His true feelings patched together in awkward, clumsy sentences. Will Jin Ling understand that? Will he recognise that it's him?Because all he wants is for this to be understood—for Jin Ling to learn from his mistakes, and become a leader respected by his people, at the very least. He wants him to be loved. Be gentle, A-Ling. Be kind, be merciful. Jiang Cheng wants him to know this. Don't be like your uncle. Have no regrets. Be happy. Again, his mind flicks to Lan Xichen. You know, I still can't believe how many years we have known each other, and yet I never knew you were capable of something like this. What does that even mean? Capable of what?Jiang Cheng's eyes land on the sentence that makes his soul tremble with want.
Something that gives you joy.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.
Truth be told, there isn't much for them to do.The biggest task is rearranging the stacks of books Zewu-Jun keeps adding to, only to have him go back to his bookcase to switch them around or return them all together, and have to start all over again. (Somehow, Jingyi doesn't think that this is what Hanguang-Jun meant when he told them to help Zewu-Jun 'pack some essentials to take with him to the Gentian House', but oh well).Clearly there is some sort of logic to his process. He mutters to himself a lot but eventually sags onto the bed and gestures to let them know that he's done (for now).The final number is nine towering stacks of ten books each. Rolling up his sleeves and flexing his back, Jingyi looks like he's readying himself for an intense workout.Then he cups his hands around his mouth."Ouyang'er!" Clapping his hands twice then and grinning brightly, "Tao Tao, A-Ming! Work for you!""Ahhh, but Jingyi-xiong—""Ah-ah!" Jingyi jerks his thumb over his shoulder, eyebrows arching.Zewu-Jun doesn't stir, but the three younger boys squirm around nevertheless. They don't dare to complain too much after that, though the dark looks they shoot Jingyi speak volumes as they lug the books out in a sullen silence. Jingyi turns to his usual partner-in-everything, ready to wink at him and receive an exasperated roll of his eyes, but... ah. He's busy draping a blanket over Zewu-Jun, patting the wrinkles out and...Hmm.Jingyi approaches then, watching the older teen brush a strand of hair out of his uncle's face and pull the blanket up to his chin. Zewu-Jun is out. As in: so deep in the land of dreams that Jingyi clicking his fingers doesn't so much as make him twitch, nor does him hissing loudly when Sizhui slaps that hand away.Leaning against the headboard, Jingyi can't help feeling like a creep for watching Zewu-Jun sleep. Though he's been around the man enough to know that he doesn't snore, he still finds it kind of disturbing how quietly he breathes."We should tidy up," Sizhui whispers, though his hands remain on his uncle's shoulders, and he doesn't seem in any hurry to leave. "That way when he wakes, we can take him straight to the Gentian House with no delay."Jingyi nods and politely waits for Sizhui to detach himself. They pack away the rest of the scattered books that have been rejected by Zewu-Jun. There is more than just books to put away because it seems that Zewu-Jun is something of a hoarder, and he went through a whole bunch of other things too before he tired himself out.They flutter around for a bit, uncertain whether they should be touching his personal belongings or not (even if they look, in all honesty, like a pile of crap to Jingyi), but then Sizhui decides they can move them to the table at the very least so it'll be easier for Zewu-Jun to sort them out later. Anything to make life easier for him is done these days.Jingyi peeks over his shoulder at the slumbering man, frowning when he considers how he is faring now compared to yesterday. Yesterday, when Jingyi brought him his breakfast tea he'd been quite lively, praising Jingyi's diligence and neatness. Today he'd smiled, but it wasn't a smile. He'd talked, but it was mostly orders and greetings. Whatever energy Zewu-Jun had unexpectedly gained in the past couple days seemingly vanished today, and it... it's worrying to think what may have caused this. Because he's not the only one acting oddly. Hanguang-Jun, when he gave them the order to assist Zewu-Jun, had looked alarmingly stressed too (by which, Jingyi means: stressed enough that he could see it). When he'd confirmed this with Sizhui, he only felt a tiny jolt of satisfaction at being able to read him, but then came the worry (because if Hanguang-Jun was stressed, that meant there must be something to be stressed about).At breakfast, Senior Wei had been behaving strangely too. Far from his usual talkative self, with a swollen face and red-rimmed eyes. It could be that whatever has upset Senior Wei is the reason for Hanguang-Jun's stress. But then again, Hanguang-Jun was acting so out of it that it couldn't be. Whenever Senior Wei gets upset, he drops everything (literally everything, sometimes even his dear disciples' Very Important cultivation lessons) to fix the problem, in which case that can't be it... Jingyi wonders about this for a while, puzzling over what could be the reason for everyone becoming like this. The only thing of note to happen yesterday was the Sect Leaders' meeting, of which Jingyi had served as a messenger. Was that the reason? But it couldn't be. If the meeting had gone badly, why then were Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei so upset? It hadn't involved them, so that wouldn't make any sense either. Well, at least no one was shooting the messenger in a fit of rage. Though that would be more something—Oh. That's something Sect Leader Jiang would do. Senior Jiang, they're calling him now. Huh.If there was ever a person capable of throwing everyone's emotions around like a tornado, Senior Jiang would be it. Of course, Senior Wei is just as capable of doing so too, but these days he seems to prefer maintaining the peace, only tossing a pebble into the water if the situation was 'really asking for it' (whatever that means). What on earth has Senior Jiang done to make everyone like this?? Because at breakfast—well, that was another thing. He'd cooked breakfast for them (again, according to the junior juniors) after A-Ming grumbled to himself that breakfast the day before had been so much nicer. (Ten years of eating bland porridge and now the boy decided to complain about it. Incredible.)When this happened, Jingyi had been so sure Senior Jiang was going to wring A-Ming's stupid neck. (And they called him reckless. That boy has no sense.) But instead of blowing up, to the shock of everyone, Senior Jiang had merely rolled his eyes (then his sleeves) and marched straight into the kitchen.
As they'd thanked him profusely afterwards, and A-Ming blushed red throughout the meal, that sharp tongue of his hadn't said a word about it (which made the food taste all the sweeter). Breakfast was
delicious.
(Jingyi is really going to miss that man when he leaves.)
So Senior Jiang made them breakfast, and then... and then, what? They ate. They left. The meeting happened. There was no delicious breakfast this morning, so something must have happened in between.Something which Jingyi cannot understand. "Jingyi."
Sizhui goes to wet some rags and Jingyi automatically clears the table. When he comes back and throws him a dry cloth, he catches it over his shoulder. This between them is effortless, the same way everything he does with Sizhui is.
If there was ever a place Jingyi could feel totally himself, it is here: following Sizhui's lead, echoing his movements, knowing exactly where he should be and what he should do. They are like two notes played as a chord, or two strings strummed in succession. Even as the strings of a guqin are alone, so do they quiver with the same music.
(When he described this to Zewu-Jun one time, he'd raised a brow at him and placed a hand on the top of his head. Is that so? Pat-pat-patting the top of his crown, he murmured: there is music in everything. Our blood, most of all, but this... this sounds fascinating. Tell me what else you hear. He'd listed everything he could pick out, but even then there were things beyond description that still vibrated in his soul. There were so many voices, so many songs. All of them different, all of them distracting. Zewu-Jun's eyes lit up then.So you can hear the music of the world? He'd cupped his cheek softly and laughed when it had reddened under his touch, Jingyi bouncing on his toes in excitement. Good child, he'd smiled, making Jingyi's soul shiver with delight as he brushed his fringe out of his eyes, what a blessing you are. Just remember that whilst hearing is good, listening is better. Also, that they are not the same thing, A-Yi. Always remember that.)Now as Jingyi follows Sizhui around the table, he cannot help but notice how quiet things have become. It is something that has been happening a lot recently. It's not quiet in the sense of there being no sound, but quiet in the sense of there being no music. Usually he hears Sizhui in the wingbeat whispers of his lashes as he blinks, the subtle tightening of his jaw that creaks when he's biting back inappropriate laughter (or angry words), the way his voice hitches on the uptick when he's trying his best to stay calm. Everything sings to him in the smallest of details, painting a vivid picture of everything happening underneath that placid smile at every given moment.But with things having fallen all quiet around them, Jingyi is utterly lost. (Behave, Sizhui had warned him when Jingyi had decided to invite himself to one of his evening trips to the river to practise the guqin. The notes of Inquiry hung in the air, but louder than that were the voices of a thousand spirits rushing forth, none of them saying anything important but all of them desperate to be heard. Jingyi had lost his mind at that, immediately yelling at the crowd to shut up, seriously you're so loud!, to which Sizhui had frowned and asked what on earth he was talking about.Instead of answering, Jingyi had been dragged into a full-on argument with a woman who was complaining that Jingyi's manners were not befitting of a Lan disciple and that the dead really deserved to be spoken to with more respect.Jingyi had snapped back that loud noises are prohibited in the Cloud Recesses, so maybe she should try heeding her own advice. Sizhui had almost tumbled into the river from his mirth, laughing at Jingyi's reddening face. How typical that of all of us, you don't even need an instrument to commune with the dead! Can she actually understand what you're saying though? Confused, but much preferring Sizhui's questions to the woman's nagging, Jingyi had answered that yes, unfortunately she could, and she had a lot to say about what he was saying—But seriously Jingyi, that's incredible. Just imagine, if you keep practising this, you might be able to speak to the whole world! Face lighting up, he'd added: you should try singing!, which had only made Jingyi laugh hysterically. How ridiculous.)He doesn't know if he wants to speak with the whole world though. He gets in enough trouble for speaking to the people he already knows, giving his opinion where it isn't asked for, and generally putting his foot into his mouth more often than not. He's not sure what he thinks about using singing as a fighting technique, because he can't really see himself using his voice in a battle for much other than to scream what the fuck's happening? whenever things go south.Talking is easy, but singing? Not so much.(When he is alone though, in the quiet of the night, when he isn't in a battle to the death against their latest monster, Jingyi hums to himself sometimes. Little bits here and there. Without thinking about it too much, he lets it happen. Whilst his voice is certainly nothing special, the rabbits seem to like it well enough.)
Hearing is good, but listening is better.
He lives by those words, clinging onto them when all else fails to make sense, and all he can taste is the bitterness of regret. When what he has said has put him in trouble, he remembers Zewu-Jun's advice. And so he listens, and as he listens, sometimes what he learns can be useful. Sometimes he can fix mistakes with that knowledge. Sometimes he can even do things to make it better.But he can't do anything when it is this quiet. Jingyi eyes the rigid line of Sizhui's shoulders, his own hands clenching around the cloth.Slowly he hums, throwing out a lilting song, weaving together whatever comes into his head. He watches as those shoulders melt like candle-wax and Sizhui sucks in a breath, his movements loosening and ah... music again. The susurration of Sizhui's hair sliding over his back, the hesitation between each rotation of his wet cloth. He has relaxed but is still unwilling to talk.Well, if that's how it's going to be—lucky for Sizhui, his best friend is always up for a challenge."Zewu-Jun seems pretty tired today," Jingyi comments idly, polishing the wood till it squeaks in protest. "Do you think he overdid it yesterday? He had that meeting with Senior Jiang, and afterwards, he was seen walking around a lot with Hanguang-Jun. Maybe it was too much?"Sizhui hums but moves swiftly on to the next task. Grabbing the broom, Jingyi automatically goes to clear a path for him. As he watches him, he can't help but sigh. Normally it's easy to get through to Sizhui, but lately, it's been nearly impossible to drag him out of his own mind. He's so stubborn! Still, Jingyi is just as stubborn and determined to give it another try. "Isn't it good to see him out and about though? It's good, right?" No answer. Silence falls again, but Jingyi clamps his lips together and hums like his life depends on it. A mix of that song Senior Wei likes so much, an old childhood favourite of Jingyi's coupled with... coupled with the simple question: are you alright? Sizhui throws him a surprisingly cutting glare, his expression screaming do you think I don't know what you're up to? Then he blinks and Jingyi blinks, and they point at each other."You...?""You heard me!"Sizhui gapes. "I—"A groan from behind them almost has Jingyi's soul flying out of his body. Ghost! Ah, but it's only Zewu-Jun rolling over. Jingyi slams a hand over his mouth, but even that was loud. They watch the sleeping man's eyebrows twitch together, Jingyi not even daring to breathe.When he settles, Sizhui grabs him by the arm and drags him out of the hanshi, stuffing the last few stacks of books under each arm on the way. What good timing. The junior juniors scowl fiercely at Jingyi upon their return, but take the next lot of books from Sizhui's arms with little protest. (Favouritism! He will surely remember this, mark his words!)Sizhui waits till they are gone, then turns to Jingyi, and—oh. That's the first smile he's seen in a long time. Jingyi grins back. "You heard me!""How long have you been able to do that?" Sizhui asks, laughing when Jingyi pumps his fist. Then his smile wavers. "Why didn't you tell me?"Jingyi's arm freezes mid-punch. "It's nothing, really. I just—I've been experimenting a little. Nothing much.""Nothing much, he says, and yet I felt it here," he says, tapping a finger on his chest, "Like... like something wrapping around me, and stopping me from—and slowing my heartbeat. Slowing my breaths." Sizhui closes his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Like you told me to calm down, and my body obeyed."Jingyi's eyes bulge. "No way.""The Song of Clarity. The Song of Cleansing." He opens his eyes again. "It's not impossible, Jingyi."But those are—but he hasn't. Those are proper songs! Jingyi bites his lips, eyes darting around Sizhui's face, ears ringing with his voice. "Well... huh.""So you've been...?" "Yup."
(Just imagine, if you keep practising this, you might be able to speak to the whole world!)
They don't need to reference anything else. The music is bouncing between them again, a volley of thought and feelings, and—oh. Now Jingyi can understand. What's been preying on Sizhui's mind all this time. He flinches at the strength of that emotion.Because that's the thing about this connection they have. Emotions pass like a yawn between them and can travel from one to the other to the other to the other ad infinitum.They can get caught in a loop sometimes, when Jingyi finds himself lost in a whirl of sound, and Sizhui's voice rumbles from his throat, and his breath whistles through Sizhui's lungs. More than once, Hanguang-Jun has had to separate them with a firm pluck of his guqin. A single note to remind them of themselves.
"You're, but you're—why?" Jingyi stammers, wincing when Sizhui spins around and his hair slaps him in the face.
Why the panic? Isn't it too soon for that? Sure, Zewu-Jun isn't doing so well, but—oh
come on.
He chases after Sizhui when he hurries back into the hanshi, determined not to let him run away again. Even if the rest of this conversation must be held in a whisper, Jingyi is prepared to lose his voice for the rest of the day if necessary.
"Sizhui! Oi, don't you dare ignore me!"Sizhui drags out a chest of medicine, unhinging the lock and pulling open a few of the drawers."What the... are you feeling unwell?" Jingyi suddenly remembers that Sizhui slept through all of yesterday. He watches him shake out herbs into a dish and fill the pot with water. "If you're sick, go sit down. I'll do it—""It's not for me." Sizhui starts a fire, eyes flicking to Zewu-Jun when the embers spit too loudly. "He will need this when he wakes if he is to make the journey." Sighing loudly. "We'll have to restock the medicines again soon."He speaks as though the trip to the Gentian House were across the sea. The drawers rattle with emptiness when he locks them. Jingyi stares uncomprehendingly but then goes to fetch the teacups. (And the honey. Medicine always deserves honey.)Once the water is boiling, Sizhui pulls it off the heat and they wait for it to calm down. These herbs will burn in too high a heat. Jingyi spoons honey out and waits for Sizhui to be whittled down by his own silence. He's said to him before that it's when Jingyi is not looking at him that he feels nervous, because that's when he thinks that Jingyi is planning something.Confessing this to him was Sizhui's biggest mistake, because as Jingyi waits with his eyes downcast, from the thump he hears when Sizhui sits down, he knows he won't have to wait long. Even without words, the melody of life awakens in his heart. He heard me, Jingyi thinks, marvelling over this like a baby with a new rattle. For days—no, for weeks, Sizhui has been all but unreachable to him. Now he drums a rhythm on the table that lifts Sizhui's eyes. Now he hums again, this time urging Sizhui to share his burdens with him, and finally, he does."Alright, so... I'm scared," he confesses, folding his hands together. "It's just.... I can't help thinking that if it were me, if I were to lose you or even Jin Ling to something as terrible... tell me, would I be able to face the world again? Would I be able to live with that pain in my heart?" He shakes his head. "Tell me how would I go on, Jingyi? Tell me, what would I do?"Silence falls again, sweet with sorrow. There is a pain that rises and falls with each stuttering breath. Firelight catches on a streak of gold on Sizhui's cheek which glistens when he turns away, the misery dripping off his chin. It's impossible not to feel that same fear. To look at Zewu-Jun (no, at Uncle), and not wonder at his suffering. Just like each of them (he, Sizhui and Jin Ling), he chose his friends and made them his brothers, and yet...(Huh. Is Sizhui saying that—well, he sort of is.)It's as good a declaration of brotherhood as Jingyi has ever heard, and whilst he knows that he and Sizhui have always been destined for a life intertwined, it's humbling to hear it spoken aloud. Well. Not really spoken aloud, but spoken in the ping of Sizhui's sadness hitting the floor, the splash of it falling like ink on a canvas."You don't need to worry about that," Jingyi says, lowering his voice before Sizhui can warn him to. "We're young, and if the three of us were to become brothers, we'd be good to each other. I know it."With the way Sizhui has been overseeing the friendship growing between them and the Young Mistress, moderating Jin Ling's bad temper and curbing Jingyi's tactless outbursts, they've already forged a strong bond. More than that, the experiences they've had together have tied the Young Mistress to them irreversibly (in Jingyi's opinion).He'd be just as comfortable with Jin Ling's arrow aimed at his back as he is of Sizhui's sword pressed to his throat. He would fear for nothing with them by his side."We'd never betray each other," he insists, reaching across to grab Sizhui's arm. "You and I both, but Jin Ling too. You know that.""That's not what I worry about. It's... the world that scares me. It demands so much from each of us, and what we are forced to do... it's not always easy to make promises and keep them." The smile he gives is so sad, that Jingyi can almost feel his own face wet with tears. "Uncle's friends were good to him. At least at the beginning. But then circumstances changed. Nothing ever lasts, A-Yi, but I... I want them to. I don't want to lose him. Or you. Or anyone. Ever again."What can he do but take his hands and hold onto them tight? Jin Ling isn't here to snap Sizhui's doubts in half, with his haughty sniffs and sneering (yet hilarious) taunts. Hanguang-Jun isn't here to lend them his silent strength. Senior Wei isn't here to distract them with a colourful tale. Wen Ning isn't here to mumble at them that he is still here, despite everything. "I'm here," he whispers instead, lying half across the table to reach him. Stretching to wipe Sizhui's cheeks dry (almost poking his eyes out with his thumbs), he forces a smile onto his face and hums. The song blends with the soothing crackle of the fire, rising with the steam that curls up towards the ceiling, softening with the hope that fills Sizhui's eyes. Better?"Better," Sizhui replies, smiling shyly.It's then that Jingyi notices, or rather hears the subtle change—the sound of careful breathing, of something pressing firmly into the floorboards, of weight shifting in increments on the bed. He spins around, spotting Zewu-Jun slowly levering himself up onto his feet.Immediately he leaps up, almost knocking the teapot over. Zewu-Jun halts him with a raised hand, taking his time to rise before turning to walk towards the window. They both watch, hearts in their throats, as he says nothing.How much did he hear, Jingyi wonders, his mind scrambling over the conversation and cringing at every stupid thing he'd said. We'd never betray each other. We'd be good to each other. I know it. "Uncle," Sizhui croaks, rushing to pour some water only to realise they forgot to add the medicine. Honeyed water is all they have to offer. Sizhui stares horrified, as though the sweetened water was blood. His hands shake violently. "Uncle, I...""Put it down before you scald yourself, A-Yuan," Zewu-Jun says calmly, turning to send him a comforting smile. "I'm not thirsty anyway, but thank you for your kindness."Jingyi takes the cup for himself. Honeyed water is the best. Zewu-Jun's smile lasts a bit longer than it did earlier this morning, but it is still a pale imitation of the real thing. Hearing is good, but listening is better. They are not the same thing, A-Yi. Always remember that. Neither listening nor hearing will reveal anything in his heart right now. So empty he is of all things at this moment, that Jingyi is afraid of listening and finding nothing. Not even the hollow beat of a drum, but literally nothing. "Have you two been working hard this morning?" Zewu-Jun asks, leaning against the window and playing with a piece of cloth by his elbow. Did they leave that there? Jingyi frowns. He doesn't remember doing so."Only a bit of dusting and sweeping," he answers, giving Sizhui time to recover. "Nothing too taxing.""You didn't have to. I was planning on doing some cleaning myself. Did your juniors do anything to help?""They helped with the books. A bit." Jingyi pauses, then adds, "Whined a lot about it though."Zewu-Jun drags a finger over the windowsill, frowning slightly. "Was that all? You're sure?"Does the window need dusting? Jingyi shrugs. "As I said, they were already whining about that. God forbid we ask them to do anything else—""That's not what I meant." Jingyi blinks.It's not often that Zewu-Jun will interrupt someone. Even with him (and Senior Wei), he's usually content to wait out their incessant blabbering and then say what he wants to say. Zewu-Jun doesn't seem to notice his surprise, mumbling something under his breath. ("How strange," Jingyi thinks he says, but cannot be sure.)Finally, he lifts his head, giving them a little face, much to their relief. "Never mind. I apologise for keeping you both. If it's not too much to ask though, would you mind taking a couple more things over for me?"He leads them over to his writing desk, where he tucks a few sketchbooks and rolls of thick paper into Jingyi's arms, then hands Sizhui a bundle of cloth and a beautiful little wooden box. For his painting, he thinks, remembering Hanguang-Jun mentioning this. "Sizhui, a word," Zewu-Jun calls, just as they're about to leave. Without thinking, Jingyi turns around as well. It's how it goes: they come as one. You call for Jingyi, and Sizhui answers. You call for Sizhui, and JingYi is there.Zewu-Jun's reaches for him anyway, at the same time that he reaches for Sizhui, perching one hand atop each of their shoulders with a smile that says he meant both of them. He bends a little, pulling them close to his side as they automatically wrap their arms around his waist.(All of a sudden, Jingyi feels five years old again, at any of the many times in his life where this uncle came over to see what trouble he'd dragged Sizhui into. His eyes would twinkle with laughter at the little boys trying to balance on their hands, almost braining themselves in the process.)"You mustn't worry about me," he says softly, hands feather-light atop their heads. "I will be alright."Pat-pat-pat. Jingyi closes his eyes. "If it's you, we will always worry," Sizhui replies for them, equally as gentle. They leave with the promise that they will return. Even as they walk and their footsteps fall in time, Jingyi finds the sound of it dull to his ears. He glances over his shoulder again and again, until the hanshi is no longer in view. Behind him is an echo, inside him a voice. Beside him is a reason, and though Jingyi knows how to listen, more than that he knows to speak his mind."Come with me," he says, coming to walk shoulder-to-shoulder in the place of grabbing Sizhui's hand. "I need to show you something."The plip-plip of another two tears go unmentioned, and they deliver their cargo to the Gentian House without talking. Then he takes his hand and leads him, and it is Sizhui's turn to follow. Jingyi tells him with the pace of his step, with the swing of their fingers intertwined: let's go to the Library Pavilion. It might not be the place one would expect someone like Jingyi to hang around in as much as he does, but in spite of those rooms being his prison for punishment, they are also filled with the most amazing storybooks.Thousands (okay, maybe hundreds) of beautiful worlds held in dusty pages, treasures to be found and enjoyed by one with a special love for the drama of star-crossed lovers and heartbreaking romance.Jingyi may love to listen to music, but imagination is the music of the mind. He leaves Sizhui at his favourite table but then goes to a less used section of the library, bringing back an armful of books he's been investigating. Not his usual stuff. Slips of scrap paper are wedged in the places he has marked, and Sizhui flips through them, his dull stare growing wider and wider with each page he turns.
Jingyi drops into the seat across from him.
Yesterday, whilst Sizhui had been sleeping, he'd come across these books. Instead of messing about with the juniors, instead of humming to himself, instead of lounging around reading love stories, with nothing to do he went to the library, and... there is a shelf set aside for Senior Wei's research, these days. Not to be disturbed, but Jingyi was too curious not to poke around a
little
. Though the shelf was mostly cleared out by the time he decided to snoop around, a few books were left.
When he went through them, what he'd found had shocked him to his core. He'd meant to save telling Sizhui about it for a better time, but there is no such thing as a good time with something like this. Sizhui turns to look at him despairingly, but when Jingyi says nothing, his eyes spill over again and much though he wants to, Jingyi cannot comfort him if this is the truth. If this is what they have to worry about. To fear. It carves a pain deep inside of him, the sound of Sizhui weeping. His soul rising to meet his, trembling with the same sorrow. "Ah, you're back—oh." Lan Xichen blinks. "Pardon me, I thought you were Sizhui." And Jingyi, he mentally adds. The boy scampers onto the hanshi porch, reminding him again of a duckling, but this time... perhaps a lost duckling? Ouyang certainly looks like he doesn't know what he's doing. He smiles at him as kindly as he can.Ouyang straightens his shoulders. "Is there anything I can help you with, Zewu-Jun?"Well, he has four more books he's picked out, but it's not like they're heavy to carry... Ouyang fidgets. "If you're not too busy, I suppose you could take these to Sect Leader Jiang for me.""No need."Ouyang shrieks.Jiang Cheng sighs but nudges aside the flailing boy. He'd come from the other side, it seems. Gesturing at the books, "So those are the ones?"Lan Xichen nods, recalling their conversation from earlier that morning. He'd dropped by coincidentally at the same time as they'd started packing and immediately backed off, not wanting to interrupt them, but they'd talked for a bit whilst the boys sorted themselves out. Jiang Cheng had come with an odd request, asking what types of texts he should use to practise his calligraphy with, and Lan Xichen had been delighted when he realised this meant he was serious about pursuing it.He'd said anything: poems, stories, rule-books, copy-books. He'd told him that traditionally when one trains under a master, one will study from a collection of their works, but in Jiang Cheng's case... well, Lan Xichen told him that no master was needed.Jiang Cheng had complained that that answer was too broad, to which Lan Xichen said he would send him some books to get him started then.Which brought them to here. He smiles at Jiang Cheng, then turns to the little duck who is clutching his chest. "Ouyang'er, it's alright. Sect Leader Jiang and I have some cultivation business to discuss."Nodding vigorously, the boy takes the dismissal gratefully.Jiang Cheng raises his brow. "Cultivation business?"Lan Xichen stands, going over to open the door for him. "Perhaps you'd like some tea?"As he heads to the kitchen area to prepare a pot, Jiang Cheng's footsteps echo behind him. He can hear him wandering around the space that encompasses pretty much everything, including a small living room and study. That is all there is, with the addition of a sleeping area and wash-room hidden behind a paper screen, but naturally, Jiang Cheng doesn't go there.Lan Xichen listens to his movements slowing and turns to see him making his way around the perimeter, footsteps faltering as his eyes move across the walls—or what is on the walls, rather. "Do you like them?"Jiang Cheng hums, reaching towards one of the paintings. "I recognise that place."It's a view towards the east from the entrance gate to the Cloud Recesses. "I'd be surprised if you didn't. That way leads to Yunmeng."The man walks, turning a corner at the north, the west, and finally ending at the south-facing window. Briefly, he glances at the patch of beaten grass outside, unaware that that was where Lan Xichen's mother used to watch him and Wangji playing.Jiang Cheng's fingers twitch, rubbing together. "I can feel that your qi remains alive in this ink, but these are old paintings." Leaning against the window, he folds his arms and dips his chin. The action makes Lan Xichen wonder what he's thinking, but when he asks, "Who lived here?" he almost drops the teapot. Jiang Cheng returns to the first painting, which he seems most drawn to, completing the circle.Lan Xichen scrambles to sort out his thoughts, but one thing stands out to him:What an astute mind he has.Lan Xichen walks over to stand by him, gazing at the depiction of far off mountains and a glittering sea. "This was my mother's house," he says. "These were her windows to the outside world. I tried my best to be as accurate as I could.""I can almost taste the salt on the breeze." Jiang Cheng murmurs, mouth twitching at the corners. "Though I don't tend to enjoy the seaside. The coast is open to a greater sea, but my waters are the lakes and the rivers." He smiles then—a soft thing, which Lan Xichen has rarely ever seen. They eventually drink the tea, settling at the low table where Lan Xichen has put his selection of books. With business clearly not on the agenda, it comes as a surprise to him that Jiang Cheng is willing to indulge him. He could have just taken the books and left, but he looks quite comfortable there, thumbing through one of the books and sipping his tea. It occurs to him then, that this is a social visit.Jiang Cheng grunts, gesturing towards the paper and inkstone he'd left on the table earlier. He passes some over, and as Jiang Cheng stirs up some ink, Lan Xichen pulls out his pigments and pours some water into a bowl. He picks up a charcoal stick and an image comes to mind, revived from this morning's strange discovery. A pair of blue eyes watch intently as he sketches out the dimensions of a slender body, the mystery revealing itself when Lan Xichen adds a pair of wings and then another below them. He picks up his brush then, dusting some azure pigment into a dish and wetting it.Jiang Cheng huffs. "The dragonfly again?" Lan Xichen raises a brow distractedly, his attention held at the end of his brush. Once the colour is consistent, he glances at the book Jiang Cheng has chosen, and... huh. Who would have thought? Jiang Cheng lays the book down, but Lan Xichen already saw it. He clears his throat when nothing else is said.(Jiang Cheng hasn't asked about Lan Xichen's mother though, not asking about why she would need 'windows to the outside world', or this tiny house to live in, so why would Lan Xichen make fun of his tastes? That would just be rude.)"It's not like there's much choice," Jiang Cheng grumbles, defensive despite Lan Xichen's silence. An attitude like that is not conducive to creativity, so Lan Xichen stands. "Can I show you something?" Jiang Cheng grunts again, waiting for Lan Xichen to return from the shelf he has stocked with his own books, and bring over one of the thicker ones to hand to him. His brother's collection is his biggest by far, and as Jiang Cheng flicks through uncomprehendingly, Lan Xichen explains whose they are. Immediately, Jiang Cheng snorts. "Why am I not surprised?" The Gusu Lan Sect rules spill over pages and pages, stretching cover to cover. He pulls a face. "You want me to copy these? I thought this was supposed to be fun.""It is. I don't, but... don't you think they are beautiful though?" The perfectly printed characters are soothing to look at, and Lan Xichen likes to recall afternoons spent with his brother, listening to the swish of a brush and watching him write. When Jiang Cheng's brow furrows, he sighs. "Please, don't—they are rules, yes, but don't... don't mock him. Wangji, he... the rules have helped him a lot. So much, in fact.""Helped him?" Jiang Cheng asks. "With what?"How can he explain this to him? It is a thing that not many know, nor care to learn about his brother, and it took time for him to understand it himself.Jiang Cheng hands the book back to Lan Xichen, who strokes the crisp black lines and looks back at a blurry time when he and Wangji were in danger of becoming unmoored from reality. When this house became empty, so did their hearts. When their father abandoned them to grieve alone, their lives shrank down to just the two of them. Their tears ran out over time, but... the world was never the same after that."With making sense of the world," he answers quietly. Uncle took them with him everywhere he went after Mother died, giving others the impression that he was striking whilst the iron was hot, trying to enforce strictness upon his nephews, when in reality he had only been trying to protect them. Yes, he'd been strict, but more importantly—he had recognised in Wangji, a need, that could not be fulfilled by Lan Xichen alone.The rules were a kindness for him, used in the guise of austerity to give him some stability. Be good, and you will be alright, they'd said, and that wisdom carried him through the darkest of days. It's part of the reason Lan Qiren hates Wei Wuxian so much—he fears him, and what loving this rule-breaker might do to his youngest nephew.Lan Xichen is grateful for the rules too, but he also believes that... had their mother lived and their childhood been happier, Wangji would have still needed them. They help him even now, when he has fallen in love with someone who breaks them constantly, because they prove to him that righteousness can be achieved in so many different ways. Rules or no rules, heedless of what hardships or what joy—one who stands straight will never fear a crooked shadow.Whilst he cannot justify this belief beyond the beauty of Wangji's calligraphy, it speaks to him, telling him the depths of his gratitude."Maybe Yunmeng Jiang should think about making some rules." Startled, Lan Xichen turns to him and Jiang Cheng shrugs. "To help make sense of things, if it really works."Smiling widely, "Isn't it the Sect Leader's job to decide on what rules should be made then?"Jiang Cheng stares, hand slowing mid-rotation. Thick ink seeps into the water, dark and lustrous. "I—I suppose... yes, it is."Lan Xichen hums. "Then tell me, does Yunmeng Jiang not have any rules?"A bitter laugh. (He cringes at the sound, but Jiang Cheng doesn't notice.) "We have one," he says, meeting Lan Xichen's gaze briefly. "You probably know of it already," he mutters, returning to mixing the ink, which is now thicker than it should be.Indeed he does. Lan Xichen has always admired the Yunmeng Jiang family motto. In his opinion, it sounds rather inspiring."Why don't you like it?""Because it results in far more failures than successes, setting an unattainable goal," Jiang Cheng says, wetting his brush. "An unreasonable expectation, that rewards with nothing but disappointment."(Oh, this will be interesting to watch. What flowery words will survive under his hand? Ah well, Lan Xichen is pretty sure that whatever poem he chooses, Jiang Cheng will make a masterpiece out of it.)"I disagree," Lan Xichen says, drawing Jiang Cheng's attention away just as he begins to write. His hand moves swiftly, though he barely glances at the paper. (Remarkable.) "I mean, if you think about it, doesn't 'attempt the impossible' itself mean that failure is impossible, so long as you are attempting it?"Jiang Cheng blinks. The brush is held aloft as he ponders this. Lan Xichen itches to snatch it away from the page before it drips, ruining everything. Then the man shuffles around, scratching his cheek. "I've never thought of it like that," he admits after a while."I think it depends on how you read it, but to me," Lan Xichen hesitates. Surely he's being too forward, saying all this? But Jiang Cheng is looking at him. Waiting for him to continue. "To me," he says, "Your motto can be summed up in fewer words, actually.""Oh?""'Be courageous'," he says. Then falters, and decides to amend this: "'Try to be courageous'."Jiang Cheng smirks. "That's one extra word.""I—yes, but the point I'm trying to make is that I interpret the meaning to be an encouragement. Trying is key. So long as you try, you cannot fail.""I wouldn't agree with that.""You will always fail by not trying though. Trying at least allows you a chance," Lan Xichen insists. "And what is life about, but taking chances?"Jiang Cheng slumps, but his smirk softens around the edges. "Picking my family motto apart like this. Why am I not surprised?" His tone is sarcastic but not unkind, a teasing edge hidden behind sharpened words. Jiang Cheng clucks his tongue. "Getting a bit too philosophical for my liking though. Let's stop before I get a headache.""Stop writing?""No. Stop talking nonsense," he says curtly, resuming his writing. A hint of a smile lingers on his face though, even as he shakes his head. Lan Xichen finds himself following the movements of his hand. His elbow hovers over the table, arm held perfectly steady despite the lack of support. "Honestly, what am I supposed to think now? I should have known you'd be like this."Something about this is mesmerising, evoking a memory of... of a sunny afternoon. Wet grass damp through his clothes, ink staining his hands, splashing and staining everything. A little boy curled up by his side, scowling at the burning sun, but twisting around constantly to smile back at him... "Like what?" he asks, wondering to himself what Jiang Cheng would do if he asked him about their first meeting. Would he reminisce with him? Most likely he would deny remembering anything. The thought brings a tinge of sadness and longing with it, because embarrassing or no—he looks on that memory fondly. If only he could remember more about it. "Here," Jiang Cheng says instead, holding up what he's been working on. "What do you think?"Beside my bed a pool of light. Is it hoarfrost on the ground? I lift my eyes and see the moon, I bend my head and think of home. Lan Xichen takes the paper, feeling the weight of it in his hands. What does he think? It embodies the poet's emotions clearly, even if it wasn't composed by Jiang Cheng himself, perfectly timed with his own blurry nostalgia. I miss home, but I miss it, even more, when I am there. That same feeling, a trapped joy that cannot grow. That has nowhere it can survive but in the past. Grief for the lost places of childhood. Something anyone can relate to, a yearning. With spiritual energy buzzing at his fingertips, Lan Xichen hears a puff of air and glances up to find his companion's eyes twinkling, though his expression looks almost uncomfortable. Has he been silent for so long? But he cannot find it in himself to be embarrassed, though he knows he must look peculiar staring at the poem with misty eyes. It's just that it's... remarkable, how much can be said with so little. How carelessly Jiang Cheng created it, yet with so much heart."You're a natural," he declares, nodding decisively. "There's no doubt in my mind now. This is art.""Flattery will get you nowhere," Jiang Cheng smiles disparagingly, shaking his head at Lan Xichen's enthusiasm. "Seriously. What are you seeing? Are we even looking at the same thing? Are your eyes damaged? I have never—according to Wei Wuxian, I'm not a natural at anything but sneering at people." Here, he curls his lip to demonstrate, dragging a chuckle out of Lan Xichen. Jiang Cheng frowns. "Not the response I usually get, but... do you see?"Smiling sweetly, "How can I, with these damaged eyes?""Ha-ha. Very funny. I just want you to know that the only way I have gotten anywhere in life is by working for it."For some reason, he seems self-conscious for admitting so, but why should he be when perseverance is a quality that should be admired in a person? Maybe because although Lotus Pier is a triumph, it will never be the home Jiang Cheng wants. Setting an unattainable goal indeed. How cruel that the golden days of youth are so hard to recapture.Lan Xichen looks at the man across from him who is here now. Who he should be paying more attention to than a little boy he can hardly remember."You must work very hard then.""You bet I do," Jiang Cheng laughs, cheeks pinking slightly. Twiddling the brush between his fingers, he reaches for the paper in Lan Xichen's hands. "Alrighty then.""You don't do anything by halves, do you?" he says lightly, eyes falling to the last line again. I bend my head and think of home. "You never do.""Of course not," Jiang Cheng says, voice oddly tight as he decides to snatch the paper back from him. "What would that achieve?" Dipping his brush back in the ink, he flips through the book one-handed, searching for something else to write. Watching him, it takes some time for Lan Xichen to pick up his own brush, his mind drifting back again and again to that sunlit afternoon. "Wait a moment! Don't you think—shouldn't we—" Slam! Jingyi stares at the broken door, wincing when it topples over and skids a few feet. "Oh.""...never mind."Jingyi tries to prop it to stay upright. It stands for a few seconds, then keels over and smashes into the ground, snapping in half. "Ah."Sizhui sighs, rubbing his forehead. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, two sets of footsteps are heard approaching, and Jingyi pales. This? This is exactly what Sizhui had been hoping to avoid. Well, maybe not exactly. He'd predicted Jingyi slamming open the door would reveal his parents mid-coitus, not his (fully-dressed) parents arriving moments later to find them standing around the broken jingshi door.Surprisingly, instead of bursting out laughing, Senior Wei waves an arm at the both of them and turns to his husband."See?" he demands, gesticulating wildly. "This is what happens when you make kids do too many handstands! They become monstrously strong! Too much arm strength which results in our front door being broken! Aiyah!" He shakes his head ruefully, clicking his tongue. "Jingyi, Jingyi, Jingyi...""Han-Hanguang-Jun..." Jingyi stammers, wringing his sleeve. The man's eyes flick between the door and Jingyi's guilty expression a couple of times, before he pinches the skin between his eyebrows and lets out a weary sigh.Sizhui can only imagine the number of calculations he's doing in his mind, trying to figure out how to punish Jingyi when there is no set precedent for this. Jingyi has never broken a door before. Plates yes, clothes yes, Lan Qiren's patience yes. There was also that one time he broke a tree...Ironically, there are no rules for how to deal with someone like Jingyi, who seems to find a new way to break the rules every day. This is, therefore, a common problem for Hanguang-Jun, and thus he stares blankly at Jingyi for a couple of seconds before deciding on his fate.Just as he opens his mouth, Senior Wei tugs on his sleeve. "Remember," he whispers, eyes widened in mock-terror, "Handstands only make them stronger."Hanguang-Jun sighs again. "The rules... two times." Jingyi lets out a relieved sigh, thanking him from the bottom of his heart, and then turns to Sizhui expectantly. Swallowing thickly, Sizhui pulls the books Jingyi showed him out of his sleeve, handing them to his fathers in the hopes that they can... explain. Senior Wei's mirth disappears the moment he sees them, eyes cutting across to his husband instantly. Hanguang-Jun merely takes the books and holds them, waiting for the boys to explain.It becomes a test of wills between them."Well?" Jingyi finally bursts, completely forgetting the hot water he's only recently escaped. He meets that golden stare unflinchingly and even frowns when no answer comes. Turning to Senior Wei, "This is what you've been researching, isn't it?" He nods, face unnervingly grim. Frown deepening, "And...?"Senior Wei crosses his arms. "And, what? Tell me what you think."Jingyi glances briefly at Sizhui before speaking. "I think it looks a lot like... qi deviation." Sizhui stares vacantly ahead, so he continues, "But the symptoms don't fit."The man hums, looking impressed with his deduction. Sizhui can't understand why. In hindsight, it doesn't exactly take a genius to connect the dots. From what they've seen, sure: the symptoms don't match perfectly, but there is enough for it to be a major concern.For those in the cultivation world, qi deviation is the monster-under-the-bed children are warned about. Any cultivator worth their salt knows to take any monster seriously, even in the least likely of circumstances. Even when pretending otherwise is easier. His nails cut into his palms from how tightly his fists are clenched.He can feel his father's gaze resting heavily on him, as Senior Wei says, "That's precisely the conclusion we've come to—""Then why didn't you tell us?" Any trace of hesitation from before has fled from him. "How long have you known?"The anger he feels makes no sense. It is not right for him to blame them. Denial may have blinded him to the truth for this long—so much so that Jingyi had to be the one to tell him, going through book after book to make his point—but Sizhui knows that in his heart, had either of his fathers told him he would have believed them instantly. No books needed, no evidence required.He looks to each of them for an explanation, wanting a reason for the way he feels. Beside him, Jingyi shifts anxiously, but Sizhui doesn't... he is just so angry, and he doesn't know why. Is it from his heart-to-heart with Jingyi this morning? True, he feels a little off-balance after the whole exchange, but it hadn't been a fight. More like a comfort to rest the fears he's been holding onto for so long. JingYi's sincerity left him feeling raw but whole, confused but consoled. It could be what has left him this sensitive...But at the root of it, isn't it because he feels left out? To be treated like an adult by everyone, to be given so much responsibility all the time, but not be told this? How does that make any sense? "A-Yuan—""Don't call me that—please, just don't." Squeezing his eyes shut, Sizhui forces himself to breathe deeply, fighting the urge to run into Senior Wei's arms (You are Brother Xian. Brother Poor.) and just... cling onto him (his legs, for some reason). Or to go to Hanguang-Jun (Father, can you teach me?) to fold himself in his robes, hiding from the world. Ever since his memories started coming back, the child in Sizhui's heart wants so badly to be free of his responsibilities, but he knows he can't anymore. The clan needs him to grow up. To do that he needs to be Lan Sizhui, not A-Yuan. "Why didn't you tell us?" The hoarseness of his voice takes them all by surprise—Sizhui, most of all. His eyes fly open and finds all of them hovering around him. His face heats, but the anger boils over again. "You should have told us.""There is no cure."Not a single inflection in that sentence. Hanguang-Jun, in his usual way, appears unmoved by Sizhui's displeasure. Usually, he doesn't mind. He knows his father, and that his emotions are written in so many other places than his tone and expression, but this time... this time it hurts. He cares. He knows he does, but it doesn't look like it— "And what does that matter?" Sizhui bites out, voice rising. Jingyi flaps his hand in the corner of his eye, but he ignores the warning. This is a rare event, him losing his temper, but it's—what do they want from him? A son or a disciple? A child or an adult? Can't they make that clear for him, so he is not lost in the grey in-between? "We could have helped you. All this time and you've said nothing!""What good would it do," Hanguang-Jun says slowly, "To tell you when there is nothing that can be done about it?"Absolute silence, yet thunder in his heart. "Nothing?" He cannot comprehend it. "How can there be nothing?"Senior Wei steps in, "We're working on something, but really—it's more important to have the people around him remain as calm as possible—""If this is qi deviation," Hanguang-Jun interrupts again, "Then this is a battle your uncle must fight alone."So which is it? If, he said. If meaning that it might not be. Senior Wei said they're working on something, but why the secrecy then? Why not tell them? What good does it do any of them to keep secrets from the other? Is he not to be included in this, as an adult? Or do they mean to keep him a child forever? (Is that not what he wants? a little voice inside him dares to ask.)
You mustn't worry about me. I will be alright.
If it's you, we will always worry.
"Remain calm," Sizhui says flatly. Jingyi flinches, hand retracting where it was about to make contact with his shoulder. "Very well. If that's what you require of me, then that's what I'll do. Please, excuse me." And he's off.Jingyi stares after him, aghast. "Sizhui? Hey, wait!""You should go after him," Senior Wei says wearily, running a hand over his face. "Ugh. That... didn't go well at all. Lan Zhan, he's right. We should have said something sooner.""Hm.""I should go after him?" Jingyi sputters, head spinning. "But I—what the hell do you expect me to do?""Language," Hanguang-Jun interjects.That seems to be the tipping point for him—because the maelstrom of Sizhui's jumbled emotions had torn through him like a riptide. There was no warning before, not a hint of any of this whilst he was showing Sizhui the books.Jingyi feels blindsided again. Bereft, because he'd been so convinced—so certain, that he'd managed to click with Sizhui again earlier this morning. The humming, the talk. How could he have not seen this coming? He thought he knew what they were coming here for: to ask questions, sure, but also to seek guidance. All of this to be done in a peaceful manner, as expected of two exemplary senior disciples. Not this—this explosion of who-even-knows-what. The remnants of Sizhui's rage echo in his ears and Jingyi subconsciously carries that with him.
"Hanguang-Jun," he grits out, struggling to understand. "Do you... do you know what the reason for it could be?"
It takes everything not to start shouting—to force himself to ask rational questions instead. This is what Sizhui would want him to do, right? These are the questions they'd wanted to ask. Jingyi's legs vibrate with the effort it takes not to go running after his friend.
"I mean to say that," he adds, forcing himself to focus, "Qi deviation without proper evidence is not good enough. If there is a known cause for it—"
Hanguang-Jun hands him the pile of books. "Read then," he says, making to enter the jingshi. "There you will find your answers."What the—"Hanguang-Jun!" Jingyi bellows, stomping his foot.Everything inside him is screaming wrong, wrong, you don't get to shout at Hanguang-Jun, but Jingyi is suddenly angry. Just like Sizhui was, he—he cannot abide with this. Slowly, the man turns. Those gold eyes burn, but Jingyi has lost all patience. You don't get to speak to Sizhui like that, he holds inside himself, biting his tongue. You don't get to treat me like this either. The questions. He needs answers. He needs to focus.Jingyi raises his chin. "Hanguang-Jun, I have read everything I can about it, and there are no answers."The man stares back at him in silence, waiting for Jingyi to get it.When he does, he balks. "There are no answers."He simply repeats, "There is no cure.""But... but..." Turning desperately to Senior Wei, who has stood aside for most of this, Jingyi shakes his head when he sees the resignation in his face. "No, there has to be. I don't believe you." He sighs. "Jingyi, don't you think we've been looking too? I've turned the whole library upside down. Why do you think we're trying something else?""So you think... you can fix it, then?" Brightening a little at this, Jingyi says, "That's good! What are you thinking of?""Jingyi, that's not it," Senior Wei says gently, coming closer to him. "We're going to the Nie Sect to look for answers there. If there is a way to 'fix it', they'll know of it."Nodding, Jingyi tries not to think too hard about the fact that—the Lan Sect library is the largest collection of resources in the cultivation world, and if an answer can't be found here, the chances of it being found elsewhere are very slim. Instead, he decides to continue questioning Senior Wei (since he seems to be the most helpful of the two right now)."Sounds like a plan. While you are gone, is there anything we should be looking out for then, regarding his spiritual energy? Like, I was wondering if there might be other things that can affect it that we might want to keep an eye on?" Senior Wei's hands land on his shoulders and Jingyi lets out a loud exhale at the weight of them, which oddly makes him feel lighter. "I've been thinking about that myself. As a cause of deviation, it could be that the emotional toll of recent events have proven too much for him, though it seems unlikely. We've all suffered plenty of losses in our lives, and every loss is still a loss, but," he grimaces, "I'm doubtful that after all we've been through, this would be it.""But as you said, every loss is a loss," Jingyi argues."Yes, but grief is... of course it's bad, and like a stain, it never washes away. But it doesn't kill people, Jingyi. People cannot die from it. It's been long enough that now, Zewu-Jun is willing to speak about his sworn brothers with others. That implies that he has healed to be able to speak of them." Seeing the doubt on his face, Senior Wei wraps an arm around his shoulders, "Jingyi, tell me—how many bones have you broken in your lifetime? How many wounds have you sustained? You scar, do you not? But do you not also heal?"Nodding again, Jingyi shifts uneasily, as it becomes apparent that Senior Wei is angling towards something he doesn't want to hear, but he is trapped under that arm."Grief is sort of like that. We never forget it, but even so we live with it. For those with strong wills—like our Zewu-Jun—grief cannot steal us from this Earth, otherwise none of the seniors you know would be around, for all the grief we have ever felt. We are stronger than that, you see—""You're wrong." Senior Wei releases him, but somehow, despite the suddenness of that motion, Jingyi feels a little steadier now. Again, he says, "You're wrong. Strength has nothing to do with it." Turning to Hanguang-Jun, "And you, how can you stand there and say nothing? How can you let him say such things?"Hanguang-Jun's eyes darken, "Jingyi—""Grief cannot harm people?" Jingyi demands, turning to Senior Wei again. "You have no idea what grief can do. How dare you say such things when you don't know."For all the years he's stood by Sizhui's side, both of them helpless to do anything to comfort their grieving guardian, Jingyi speaks for their childhood selves, who were so scared for him (even though he can barely stand to look at Hanguang-Jun right now)."He was a walking corpse for years," he snaps, pointing at Hanguang-Jun. "And people cannot die from it?" Eyes burning, he laughs bitterly. "What do you know?""What are you talking about, Jingyi?" Senior Wei asks weakly. "Grief can kill," he hears himself say, as if from far away. It was years ago, the last time he thought about this. The shadow of those two people rarely visit him in his dreams anymore. He cannot even say when the last time was. "It can," he mutters, barely feeling it when Hanguang-Jun grabs his arm, "It can."Desperate, "What is he talking about? Lan Zhan?" "Enough," Hanguang-Jun murmurs, pulling him closer. Jingyi allows it, sinking into the embrace that saved him, all those years ago. These arms held him once, with Sizhui wedged beside him. The two of them felt safest clinging onto their Hanguang-Jun or tucked up against their Zewu-Jun's heart. "A-Yi, that's enough," he says, stroking his hair.It's this gentle touch that breaks the spell, because—this is not what he wants. What he wants is for Senior Wei to know. To understand how desperate those years were. Two little boys, they were, but even at that young age, they could sense that something was amiss.Something had their guardian at its mercy, held in its clutches. A gaping emptiness that threatened to swallow him up. The comfort he gave them came at his own expense. When he'd looked at A-Yuan, his eyes were always so sad, and when he'd looked at him, his expression would shutter (which Jingyi later came to learn, was from guilt).They were so close to losing him every single day. How can he brush that off so easily? How can he stand there and think nothing of it?Jingyi jerks. Recoils. Shaking off the comforting haze, pulling away from the safety of those arms.Hanguang-Jun frowns, grabbing onto his wrist. "Jingyi, stop.""No, you stop!"Despite all the years spent under his tutelage, nothing has managed to pacify his temper. They used to let Jingyi cry himself dry, and only then attempt to hush him. He is crying now. He can feel his face cold from being wet, his lips slick with salt."I can't stand this! Okay, so you don't want to tell Senior Wei the truth, but—but how... how can you be so cold about something like this? Is that not your brother we're talking about? Is it not his life hanging in the balance? How could you speak like that to Sizhui? Is he not your son?"Hanguang-Jun's face has gone pale, but Jingyi cannot stop. All self-control has fled. There must be ten thousand rules waiting to be written by him by now, but he doesn't care. "And what am I to you?" he demands, yanking at his arm. "To stand there saying nothing. Don't you care at all? Just—stop it! Let me go!" He lets him go, and Jingyi runs.There is only one place he wants to be right now.Like two notes played in the same chord, this feeling inside him resonates in the air, and he hears its answer calling in the distance. Jingyi's voice calls out to itself, Sizhui's beats the ground beneath his feet, and both their lungs burn for breath as one cries and the other runs—runs to the hanshi, where he will find him.Where he will be waiting. There is nothing to hold up the door. Not that they care much for privacy, now that Jingyi has shouted to the high heavens all his grievances with them.And Sizhui had shouted too. Wei Ying stares blankly at the pieces of wood that Lan Zhan is sweeping into a pile.He feels numb. Shocked by how the two children who are hardly ever angry with anyone, have both decided to explode like that, one after the other. And at him. At them. They came back to the jingshi, not expecting any of this. Not at all aware of how delicate the situation was when the boys handed them those books and looked to them for answers. What on earth brought all of that on, he cannot say. Everyone has been on tenterhooks lately, but to be that hair-trigger sensitive—and what had they done to set them off anyhow?He can take hatred from thousands—can stand to hear them cry for retribution, scream his name as a curse, and hate him all they want. But these boys...He waits for his husband to finish clearing up, then beckons him over. Lan Zhan's face has not regained much colour. They both sit for a while, neither knowing where to start. Eventually, Wei Ying exhales loudly, flopping back onto the bed and draping his arms over his eyes."What did Jingyi mean by that?" he asks quietly. Nothing. Not a breath, not a murmur. He presses his eyeballs till black spots appear. "Do I even want to know?"He never wants to know, but he swore when he came back, that he would take responsibility for all the wrongs he has committed in his life. But how is he meant to do that if he doesn't know about them?Still nothing. Nothing, which means everything. He doesn't need a script. He has a good enough imagination, and—he was a walking corpse for years. Wei Ying swallows, but the lump stays lodged in his throat. It is the least of his pains.A hand comes to rest on one of his, gently curling around his fingers, easing them away from digging out his own eyeballs. His throat aches, even though it was the boys who did all the screaming. How Lan Qiren hasn't come after them for causing such a ruckus is a miracle and a mystery, all in one. Wei Ying squeezes his eyes shut tighter, but there are no tears that will wash away this guilt. This grief, which as Jingyi so rightly pointed out, can harm.
Grief cannot harm people? What do you know?
Can it be that he has been ignorant to others' suffering simply because he was not around for thirteen years to bear it as they had? After all, once he came back, there was no context for him to understand what he'd missed in his absence. No 'before and after' to reference the new Lan Zhan with the old, except for the changes he'd noticed in his personality, which he had put down to other reasons.So he grew up. So he lived through thirteen years of other experiences—what man wouldn't change after that length of time? It made sense for him to be different. That's what Wei Ying kept telling himself, at least. But then when he learnt that Lan Zhan had loved him all this time... he's thought about the consequences of that—he has, but what can he do about the time lost? How do you comfort someone for something you were not there for? Something that was literally caused by you not being there? Do you apologise? Do you just accept it?He and Lan Zhan have that arrangement. No thank you's and no sorry's between them. The past left in the past.Or so he thought, or so he told himself. But life is a constant repetition of the past. 'Do you remember?' is something humanity cannot stop asking itself, because life is so short that everything is recent to the memory. To be human is to live your life half in memories. Is it any wonder then, that he is barely a person—with decades lost, of life and memories, what is there left?"If you won't tell me that, then tell me this," he says, tugging his husband's hand till he lies down beside him. "Jingyi," he says softly. "Who was it that he lost?"He can answer with silence again and Wei Ying will still understand him. Who else could it be, for a child to weep for years in their heart? If someone were to ask A-Yuan, who cannot remember his birth parents, to describe them, he would no doubt speak of them with fondness.According to Lan Zhan, despite the fever which stole the memory of him from A-Yuan, he'd cried for him in the night for years. Even Wei Ying himself (after decades of many other losses) recalls the hollowness of a childhood where he knew he was the last of his blood, and no one would tell them what his parents had been like, or why they were gone."His mother," Lan Zhan says, jagged voice heavy with regret, "Was one of my father's attendants. On the night the Wens attacked, she was on duty and..." Each word sounds dragged out of him, but they draw to a stop as he struggles to breathe. Wei Ying squeezes his hand, and he continues. "And she was found the next morning, with her sword still in hand. She defended him until her last breath."(With her sword still in hand. Lotus Pier is burning, and Madame Yu topples over with a thump. Jiang Cheng is sagging beside him, eyes streaming as Uncle Jiang's sword is wrenched out.) "Father spoke of her bravery often, but it was of no comfort to her husband. He lived for some time afterwards. He held on for Jingyi with all he had, but still... it was not enough."
Grief can kill. It can, it can.
"He died suddenly, in his sleep. No known cause," Lan Zhan says, as though this is something he has had to recite many times."But you were there," he says, unable to shake the thought of an orphaned Jingyi from his mind. "Tell me how he was. Tell me what you think the cause was. Just a guess, if you have to."After a moment, he says, "I do not need to guess."A sob escapes him then, and Lan Zhan pulls into his arms. Oh, how it hurts to hear that. He's been so blind to everything, and hearing of it now... Wei Ying weeps, clinging to his husband—his living, breathing husband, who has survived despite everything. "Tell me," he rasps. He needs to know, if knowing is to be his punishment. Reluctantly, "We assumed it was from his injuries, but there was nothing he'd sustained that was serious enough to explain how. He was... a shell, after his wife's death. As I said, it happened suddenly.""And Jingyi?""Cared for." Lan Zhan's arms tighten around him. "Brother and I felt responsible, as did Uncle. Had his mother not been on duty, he would not have been left alone.""So you took him into your care.""After the Sunshot Campaign ended, we did. It... it made sense, when I brought A-Yuan back, to raise them together." He sighs. "When he asked us about his parents, we told him what we could. From what we told him, he came to believe that the cause was—""Grief," Wei Ying whispers, trembling all over. "A broken heart." He feels like an icy hand has wrapped itself around his heart, chilling his blood. "You can't deny that it does make sense," he chuckles bitterly. If he could go back half an hour, or however long it has been, he'd shut his mouth and dare not argue with Jingyi over this.
You're wrong. Strength has nothing to do with it.
"God, Lan Zhan. I really fucked up this time.""You weren't to know." A thumb rubs a circle over his knuckle. Rough callouses dragging over his smooth borrowed skin. "And he spoke out of anger, for what reason we do not know—""He spoke the truth though, didn't he?" Finally daring to open his eyes, Wei Ying blinks at the blurry ceiling. "Didn't he?"Only the sharp profile of his jaw and cheekbone are visible at this angle, but Wei Ying can picture the rest of his face. Nothing shown in any part of his expression but his eyes, which for him are truly the windows to his soul. Lan Zhan will usually try to avoid eye-contact when he doesn't want to answer a question. It's useless here, where Wei Ying's imagination mercilessly supplies what those years were like.Lan Zhan wandering the world like a—a walking corpse. A shell. Suffering the same way he does with everything: in silence. "How did you do it?" He huffs a laugh. "I can barely stand you being in a different room to me for longer than five seconds—""Me too.""You lasted over a decade, Lan Zhan. How? How did you survive?" It haunts him, the thought that Lan Zhan was walking through life for thirteen years with a noose around his neck. If grief was such a force to be reckoned with, maybe Jingyi is right, and it's enough to be the reason for Lan Xichen's deterioration. If it killed his father, who's to say it wasn't? It goes against everything Wei Ying is, to dwell on the past. To agonise over it. It goes against his promises to Lan Zhan, and demeans his suffering for him to pretend he understands, but—"Wei Ying, it was not a burden." His husband tilts his head back, gazing down at him with loving eyes. "Not for me.""How can you say that?" It hurts just to think about. Just imagining a year of carrying around his feelings for Lan Zhan is bad enough, and if he were gone... "It would have killed me. A third death, or second, depending on what you define as—""It shouldn't."Though it isn't as rare as it once was, Lan Zhan's smile catches him off-guard, mostly due to the timing of it, and also because... this one tugs at his heart, instead of filling it with joy. He says it shouldn't hurt, that it shouldn't kill him, but this hurts. Having to see the man who loved him despite everything smiling at him, holding him, comforting him."Grief could never have taken me," he says softly, cupping his cheek. "Not when love is what saved me.""Love?" he breathes. The smile grows, though a glimmer of sadness remains like the burnt wick of that happiness. "The love of two little boys, and the uncle who forgave me, and the... the brother, who stood by me, and bandaged my wounds. Love for you, which gave me strength throughout." Clasping their hands, he pulls them to his chest, letting Wei Ying feel his living, beating heart. "Love, Wei Ying. That is how."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow.
Years ago, carrying a jug of water and two mugs would have required three separate trips, and half the water would have fed the plants along the way.Jingyi knows this from experience, but now he carries everything in one go, determined not to leave Sizhui for longer than necessary. After all the crying they've been doing, they both need to rehydrate! The jug is full to the brim, but as Senior Wei correctly assessed, such a thing was no challenge for his arm strength.What is challenging is navigating over the uneven ground without spilling a drop. So focused on this task he is that it takes a moment for him to hear the tremulous sound of music playing over the slosh of water. But the moment it does, Jingyi freezes. The jug slips from his arms, water spraying everywhere—but he runs, dropping the mugs. Dropping everything. Ignoring the paved footpaths, he bursts through a copse of trees that shrouds the hanshi from view, branches snapping and tearing but most importantly—heart almost stopping at the sight of Sizhui with his guqin laid across his lap (when did he get that??), strumming the... the strangest melody Jingyi has ever heard. Sat beneath the window, head bowed and deep in concentration, Sizhui hasn't noticed him yet.For a split second, Jingyi is convinced that what he's hearing is Inquiry, but no... it's different. Something entirely new. Something that...(He cannot—)The rhythm aligns with his pulse. Latching onto his breath, and dragging it down, till it becomes slower and slower—His eyes leak with bitter tears, and something pierces his chest. Like claws sinking deep into his flesh. No, but—this is what they rid themselves of. They've finished with all of that. Jingyi was sure of it. He'd held Sizhui till his tears ran dry, till he'd smiled and waved him off...Why can't he call out to him? Why can't he... it's like something has cut the strings holding him up, and Jingyi hits the ground, his knees smack hard into the earth. He'd thought he was done with crying, but the sobs overwhelm him, even as he tries his best to stifle them. Jingyi chokes on a stuttering breath, whimpering when he folds in two, unable to bear it any longer—"A-Yuan!"The music cuts off so suddenly that he doesn't notice it at first. Then, flopping onto his side, Jingyi blinks his eyes clear, only to gape at the sight of their unexpected guest. Finally able to move, he scrambles upright, just in time to see Sizhui almost drop the guqin in shock."Uncle Ning??"Indeed, it is Wen Ning who has appeared from the other side, and... the fact that he is in the Cloud Recesses slaps Jingyi sideways. He's—is he even allowed to be here? Has he ever been here before? What do they do? Why has he come? Jingyi forces himself onto his feet and staggers the rest of the way over to them, finally drawing Sizhui's attention to him as well.The boy's head spins, whipping from side to side several times, before he blurts out, "Jingyi, why are you wet? Uncle Ning, why are you here?!"To his credit, Jingyi thinks the wet clothes are the least of their problems. He sends the best smile he can manage to Wen Ning, knowing it is hardly a smile at all. The General nods back, unable to return his smile (of course), but clearly pleased to see him. Jingyi walks the final distance to Sizhui then, and is unable to stop himself from snatching the guqin away. "Hey—!""A-Yuan," Wen Ning intones, his stern voice halting the two in their tracks. He gestures to Jingyi, who warily hands him the instrument. Wen Ning brings the guqin to eye-level, slowly turning it over in his hands, and even pressing his ear to the back of it. Then he hands it back. Too weirded out by this, Jingyi quickly gives the guqin back to Sizhui, who clears his throat."Uncle?"Wen Ning murmurs, before tilting his head stiffly. "The music you were playing. What was it?""Ah, that's right!" Jingyi exclaims, finally finding his voice. He jabs a finger at Sizhui. "What the hell was that?!""What do you mean?" Sizhui frowns, stroking the strings. Even that tiny vibration has Jingyi's mouth trembling, and he makes an aborted motion to take the instrument away again. "It was... I was just experimenting with something...""But that isn't a written piece," Jingyi says, partially explaining this to Wen Ning, who hums in acknowledgement. "So, you wrote it?""I haven't written anything. I was just... you know. Playing around. Like you always do." Sizhui shifts uncomfortably, idly plucking at a string, and—"Stop!" Jingyi yelps, slapping his hand off the fingerboard and holding the string still. Sizhui stares at him wide-eyed, which is when Jingyi realises his eyes are freaking leaking again. "Ugh.""A-Yuan," Wen Ning says as gently as he can, dropping to kneel on Sizhui's other side. He gazes up at his nephew's confused face and places a hand atop his knee. "Why do you think I came?"Sizhui shakes his head. "I don't know," he replies at first, but then his eyes fly open. "Oh—oh! Is it about the intruder? Have you found him?"Intruder? Jingyi wasn't aware Wen Ning was on the case about the intruder. He'd been under the assumption that all of that had been dealt with. He harrumphs a little, annoyed at once again being left in the dark (even Sizhui seems to have known about this!), but bites his tongue. The last thing they need right now is to fight with each other.Wen Ning shakes his head, "No, it wasn't about that." Carefully, he takes the guqin again and resumes his previous examination (to both boys' bewilderment). "I came because... I heard the music."It takes a minute for the boys to make the connection, but then... if Wen Ning was able to hear the music from wherever he'd been previously, could it be that he was summoned by it?As far as they know, only Senior Wei's Chenqing can summon the Ghost General. But wasn't he 'retired' now? In which case... Jingyi thinks about the way the music had made him feel. Panicked. Frantic. Mournful. Aching. He'd found it disturbing, plain and simple, despite the tune itself being rather sweet.Wen Ning again hands the instrument back to its owner, though he holds the fingerboard just as Jingyi had, never taking his eyes off Sizhui. "You mustn't play it again," he says softly. "Not like that."Sizhui stares. "Like what?"Jingyi grabs onto Wen Ning's sleeve, nearly tearing it off in his haste. "What did it sound like?" Resentful? he wants to ask, but Sizhui seems so shaken already that he can't bring himself to say it (although he is pretty much certain now, that from how he'd felt, it has to be)."With... sorrow," the Ghost General says, stilted.(Jingyi vaguely recalls one night-hunt, where he'd sprained his ankle and Wen Ning had carried him back. Along the way, he'd admitted that pain was the only thing he could actually feel anymore, in terms of physical sensation, but this is not the same. This is an emotion he is talking about. Something Jingyi is sure that, the gentle man that Wen Ning is, he can feel in every nuance, the same as any other living person.)Wen Ning's eyes skitter to the side before returning to Sizhui. "There is pain in your heart, A-Yuan. I could feel it."Jingyi nods emphatically, gripping Sizhui's other leg. "He's right, he's right! I felt it too!" "A mourning song," Wen Ning says quietly, making Sizhui's throat bob. Wen Ning hesitates, but then asks, "Who was it for?"Does he think Sizhui played it for him? But Sizhui... now that Jingyi knows who Wen Ning really is to Sizhui, he knows that with him having only recently discovered their connection, it might make sense to assume it was for him, but... the fact that Wen Ning is, well, dead, has never bothered Sizhui in the sense of feeling the need to mourn him.Sizhui admitted to him that whilst he feels ashamed by this, it's mostly because Wen Ning is still here, that that urge is abated.Him being here is all that matters to him. Of the few impressions of him left in his infant mind, those that were lost to the fever have been returning slowly but surely, and have become little treasures discovered joyfully whenever they come to him. To Sizhui, the time in-between that they'd lost was irrelevant, because he hadn't known what was missing until now.All of this confirms what Jingyi knows already—that the song wasn't for Wen Ning. He seems to know it too.Sizhui shrinks back, his skin turning almost grey. He shakes his head violently, and Wen Ning takes his hand, holding him still. "Did you sense any resentful energy?" Jingyi asks, needing to know now. Sizhui doesn't react. If that was the reason for Wen Ning's appearance, they need to tell someone. Wen Ning hums. "Not really. It was mostly pain. Sorrow.""A mourning song," Sizhui repeats dully. He opens his mouth, but then—the sound of footsteps.They are far away enough and slow enough for Jingyi to properly realise the situation, but by then Wen Ning has already slipped away. Jingyi blinks, and there are only the bushes across from them rustling briefly, and then all traces of him are gone. He quickly scrubs his face dry, turning to see Sizhui doing the same.Sizhui tries to pull his lips into a smile, but it's like watching Wen Ning try to make any type of facial expression—everything he tries comes out uncomfortably strained. After a few minutes, A-Shun arrives from the direction Jingyi came. The younger boy falters upon spotting both of them. Then he shuffles closer, eyes darting to the guqin once, and then to Sizhui's colourless face."Sizhui-xiong," he says, gaze falling to the guqin again. "You were—you were playing just now?"Sizhui stiffens. Jingyi speaks for him. "What of it?"A-Shun stares. Then shuffles on his feet. "Oh. Well, it was... it sounded a little strange, to be honest."As far as Jingyi knows, A-Shun is not particularly musically talented (by which he means, by some miracle or curse, the gifted blood of the Lans has totally passed him by, and he is one step away from tone-deaf). Had it been A-Ming here, he might have worried more. Luckily for A-Shun, it seems that whatever hold the song had had on Wen Ning and Jingyi, totally passed over his head."He's just trying out something new," Jingyi says breezily, shrugging when A-Shun frowns. "Can Sizhui-xiong not speak for himself?" Touchy touchy. The taller boy has always been rather grouchy. Then again, A-Shun has never enjoyed being made to do grunt-work, so the other junior juniors roping him into helping this morning probably put him in a foul mood. "Watch your tongue," Jingyi warns, to which A-Shun's frown becomes a scowl. "Anyway, this does not concern you."The boy scowls. "What is 'this'?""None of your business.""Jingyi-xiong!" A-Shun stomps his foot. "It is my business if it is something that concerns the surrounding area! As this is within the bounds of the hanshi, that means that it is part of my job to maintain the area for Zewu-Jun."No one has given A-Shun or any of the junior juniors any official orders to do so, but since the adults seem to have decided to look on their actions favourably, Jingyi cannot refute this. He pauses at the mention of Zewu-Jun though. (Zewu-Jun, who they'd promised they would return for. Zewu-Jun, who they left at the Gentian House!)Jingyi gulps, sneaking a glance at Sizhui at the corner of his eye to see if he has realised this too. Sizhui is staring at the floor though. The mention of Zewu-Jun has probably sent him down another path entirely, by his guess.
Who was it for?
Who indeed.Jingyi stands, knees cracking at the sudden movement. As he pushes up, using Sizhui's leg to steady himself, his eyes flit over at the bushes again. Nothing. Not hide nor hair of him. Good. He turns back to the younger (but taller) boy, crossing his arms. "If you're so dedicated to attending Zewu-Jun, why are you not with him now?"A-Shun's face scrunches up. "He's at the Gentian House. Xiao Ouyang says he's in a meeting with Sect Leader Jiang."Jingyi blinks. "Another meeting?""Official cultivation business. Not to be disturbed, apparently."Well, if A-Shun is a grump, he's also very keen to let others know how well-informed he is. Cultivation business? What business could he have to discuss with Senior Jiang that is so urgent to be happening again so soon?Jingyi sighs, sensing the other boy's eagerness to continue the conversation. There's no choice but to shut that down. Smirking, "Then maybe you should go make sure he isn't disturbed.""Maybe I will." As the boy practically flounces away, Jingyi barely withholds from rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath. Well. At least it was A-Shun and not the other (far more inquisitive) three.He counts up to thirty in his head, then goes to fetch Wen Ning back, but the man appears as if summoned by his thought, emerging from the bushes like smoke peeling off a darker shadow.It's surprising how smooth and quiet he can be, considering his body is partially petrified in rigor mortis. Perhaps it is this which actually makes Wen Ning seem more like a supernatural creature nowadays: him moving about without sound, without the need to breathe or fidget. Even though he trusts Wen Ning implicitly, the hairs on the back of his neck also seem to rise in warning. Wen Ning sinks back to the ground by Sizhui's feet, returning to its former place and taking his nephew's hand once again. Sizhui seems to be in shock. Jingyi waves a hand in front of his face, to which there is little response. He shrugs at Wen Ning, who probably would have sighed right then.After a few moments, Sizhui sighs in his stead. Turning to him, "Can you explain what you mean by a mourning song? I wasn't... there wasn't that intention in my mind, when I was playing.""There was anguish, buried deep." Wen Ning reaches up to brush Sizhui's bangs out of his face. "I am sensitive to such things now. More-so than I was before.""And did you sense... you promise there wasn't resentful energy?"Jingyi watches him closely. Why would Sizhui be resentful? What dark thoughts could he even be harbouring? How is it that Jingyi has known nothing of this, yet it has been brewing inside him all this time? Are they not the Twin Jades? Does he not know Sizhui best?"Not quite. It wasn't... A-Yuan," he murmurs, scooting around to face him directly. Taking both his hands off the guqin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "It was a mistake. You mustn't worry about this. This uncle has already checked, and nothing was disturbed by your music.""Except for A-Shun," Jingyi mutters under his breath.And me, he thinks, remembering phantom hands curling in his chest, his breath almost flickering out like a flame. Borrowing a little of Senior Wei's temperament, he bounces on his toes in faux cheerfulness."But anyway, that sourpuss had some surprising yet good news, don't you think?" At their blank stares, he huffs. "We don't have to worry about us leaving Zewu-Jun at the Gentian House if he's having a meeting with Senior Jiang. And isn't it good that he's been working so hard lately? That must mean he's feeling better, especially with him leaving the hanshi more often than he used to..." He waits, losing momentum when all he receives is heavy silence from one, and polite curiosity from the other. Wen Ning isn't very up-to-date about Zewu-Jun's condition, mostly because the two haven't had much interaction at all, oh—but if he's been looking for the intruder, which means he must be a little more aware of this than Jingyi had thought.He turns to Wen Ning, hoping for more of a response. "It's good, isn't it?"Wen Ning grunts, nodding slowly. He squeezes Sizhui's hands. "A-Yuan?""It's good," Sizhui agrees, then bows his head as tears drip onto his lap, some of them hitting the guqin strings and fingerboard.Jingyi really starts bouncing then. No, Sizhui, he wants to say, shaking him until he stops, we're done with crying! We did all our crying! Why are you still crying?? Unsure whether he should try to comfort Sizhui or not, whether he should apologise or not (what would he even be apologising for??), what the hell he should do—Wen Ning tugs Sizhui till he topples onto his lap, awkwardly sprawled to avoid crushing the guqin between them. Unfortunately, his arms are rather stiff and clumsy, as he tries his best to wrap his nephew in a hug. Watching this, Jingyi decides to lend him his own arms and joins them on the floor, taking over the main part of the hugging as Sizhui cries quietly to himself.It takes all of Jingyi's arm-strength to rock the three of them side-to-side, humming to bridge the silence with something. It might be his imagination, but he swears he can even feel Wen Ning's muscles loosening at the sound, as he pours all of his calmest thoughts into song.With his concentration mostly on keeping the song going, an idle thought passes over him like a drifting cloud. If Zewu-Jun were to succumb to whatever this thing is, if he were to pass away... he wonders if they can bring him back as something like Wen Ning.A fierce corpse who remembers, and knows, and cares, and loves. The same uncle, in all but beating heart and warm, soft flesh. If he were to become like Wen Ning, at least then he wouldn't have to leave them completely. And would he not still be their Zewu-Jun?Just as he brushes this thought aside, the bushes rustle and a flash of gold precedes the shrill sound of an all-too-familiar voice. "—and I swear if they don't do it, I'll do it myself—ah. There you are. Oh. All of you?" Jin Ling cocks his head. "Yes, all of you... well. Huh." Planting his hands on his hips in a near-perfect imitation of his uncle, he scoffs, "Well, well. What on earth is this all about then?"Since neither uncle nor nephew reply, Jingyi decides to answer. "We're just hugging."One eyebrow slides upwards. "'Just hugging', he says."Jingyi gapes. "He does!""Says the person with no concept of personal space.""Says the person who just barged in!"Jin Ling's other eyebrow springs up. "Was I interrupting something?" He opens his mouth to continue in this vein, but then must have seen Sizhui—oh, wiping his face, sniffling into his sleeve. Jin Ling darts over, immediately bristling with concern. "What happened?" he demands, circling Sizhui as if trying to work out where he's hurt. His eyes cut across, narrowing. "What did you do?""Me?" Jingyi sputters, pointing at himself. "I had nothing to do with it!" Then he turns the finger towards Jin Ling, as though wielding a sword. "Don't you think you should tell us what you have done to come marching in here like that?""I've done nothing. I'm simply... getting fed up of staying at Koi Tower. That's all.""Oh yeah. That's all, right—""Did I not just say that—""Young Master Jin."That cuts cut off immediately, both cowering a little when they realise Sizhui is still sniffling wetly, wedged under Wen Ning's arm. He stares at them, somehow managing to emote disapproval without actually moving his face. (Incredible. What skill. He's like what Hanguang-Jun would be if he were less difficult to read, Jingyi thinks.)"Young Master Jin," he says cordially, "Was there something you needed?""I was looking for my uncle," Jin Ling sniffs, though he can't turn his nose up properly, without losing the ability to glare at him (and peek at Sizhui nervously). "Where is he? Shouldn't he be back at Lotus Pier by now?""He's with Zewu-Jun.""Zewu-Jun?" Jin Ling again seems like he's about to say something, but then his mouth snaps shut. There's a strange twinkle in his eyes, which has Jingyi frowning. He smiles too. "Huh, that's... interesting."Jingyi scowls. "Why do you say that?""No reason.""Is there anything we can help you with?" Wen Ning asks before Jingyi can reply. Jin Ling looks like he's about to say no, casting Jingyi a disgruntled look (his gaze skittering over Sizhui again), but then his eyes catch on Wen Ning. And he stares. After a moment, he flops down onto the ground, kicking Jingyi until he makes some room for him. Jin Ling hesitates before scooting close enough to be leaning against Sizhui's knee, and then he twists around to face Wen Ning again, seemingly ignoring the other two boys."Well... maybe you could," he considers aloud.(Jingyi huffs at this, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.)Wen Ning blinks. It's his way of trying to appear welcoming.Jin Ling smiles. "Senior Wen, do you know anything about how to deal with women?" This is perhaps the most relaxed he's been for a long time.They haven't been talking about anything too important, but that is sort of nice in itself. Idle chit-chat, but not meaningless platitudes.With Jiang Cheng asking for opinions on this poem or that (Lan Xichen always votes for the one he least expects, even when he's expecting to not expect it, much to his exasperation), and giving his verdict on Lan Xichen's artwork in return (enough with the dragonflies, he'd growled, rolling his eyes when Lan Xichen clutched his heart over-dramatically, and then proceeded to paint a freaking butterfly), it's an effortless back-and-forth. It's fun. He's actually having fun. Relaxing, and doing something he would never consider in a million years, because...Jiang Cheng cannot recall what his mother's opinion on calligraphy was, nor if she ever had one. His family has (had?) never been one for the arts. In hindsight, he actually thinks that they might have outdone the Gusu Lan in terms of austerity, with the focus always towards developing more practical skills. Praise was given for a good hunt, a decisive sword, a swift answer.Never for the softer things.Never for wasting time nor breath on leisure. Theirs was a clan whose solid belief was that a person's success is measured in how useful they are and that everything must serve a purpose.Why do you think our lotuses are so special, A-Cheng? That had been a rare moment when he caught his mother gazing out with clear approval. (Not at the disciples she was training, of course, but at the season's flowers in full bloom.) Not only are they beautiful, but also good for purifying water, she'd said, catching one swaying flower to cup in her palm.The rosy petals were lowered to Jiang Cheng's height and brushed softly against his nose. Her chuckle had taken him by surprise, and then it was his cheek she was holding, and him she was smiling at. Not only are they delicious, but also nutritious, she'd said, pinching his cheek before letting him go.The more he thinks on it, the more Jiang Cheng wonders whether there is anything he can remember doing just for sake of it (without getting in trouble for doing so, that is, thanks a lot, Wei Wuxian—). Well, there was one thing he used to do, but... he got in trouble for that too. So no. There isn't.The children of Yunmeng still fly kites though, don't they? (They do, but they don't shoot them down. He sees them whenever there is a strong enough breeze to blow every cloud out of the sky. These new children with their bright, upturned faces. A hundred kites swarming the skies. They fly them, and he watches from the window, listening to the musicians playing in the streets outdoors.) His hand cramps, spasming like a secondary heartbeat. How many poems has he written by now? Lan Xichen's stack of paintings is growing as well.Jiang Cheng leans back with a sigh, stretching his arms to feel the blood rush back into his fingers. The way his back cracks makes him groan and stretch, twisting from side to side, but... then he realises he is not alone at his desk in Yunmeng, but in Madame Lan's old cottage with Lan Xichen watching him, amusement shining in his eyes.He opens his mouth, but Lan Xichen only smiles. "Perhaps we should stop here."Jiang Cheng puts a slip of paper to mark his page, then interlocks his fingers and bends them outwards. A series of deafening popping noises follow. "Goodness," Lan Xichen laughs and tries his own joints. No luck. "Huh.""Don't push too hard. You'll break your fingers."He half expects him to ignore his scolding, but Lan Xichen gives up after a few more tries. "It seems my body is better suited to this than yours."Sitting around for hours on end? He's probably right. His body always feels like it should be moving, doing something useful instead of resting. And whilst Jiang Cheng has gotten used to having to complete towering piles of paperwork, he's never found it easy to sit for hours at a time. A full day of strength training would tire him less than having to stay still for half that time. He much prefers the burn of overworked muscles over the ache of stiffened joints. But Lan Xichen doesn't really have a choice now, does he? After all, sitting is easier than standing. As Jiang Cheng watches him gathering his things together, it occurs to him that: no, he really doesn't.(He's been assessing his spiritual energy like he'd promised Wei Wuxian he would, and Lan Xichen's qi is there, but it's just so weak. He's honestly impressed that Lan Xichen's been able to act as normal, where if it had been him he'd be... a mess. Is he that good an actor, or does he really not feel anything? Or does he feel something, but is he so used to feeling it that it doesn't bother him anymore? None of these answers would be good news. If he's hiding his pain, then that is worrying. If he doesn't feel anything, that's even more worrying. And if he feels it but doesn't care? That's... that's not good either.)"Are you alright?" Lan Xichen has cleared the table by the time Jiang Cheng has returned to himself. He pushes two more drawings across the table, which Jiang Cheng dutifully folds up and tucks into his sleeve. Keep them, Lan Xichen had said. If you track my progress, I'll track yours. "Are you still thinking about Young Master Jin?"Naturally, Jin Ling had become part of the conversation, since he is the only subject which Jiang Cheng can talk about at length. But... he hadn't thought the man was actually listening to him prattle on and on, so this question catches him off-guard.He'd talked about Jin Ling having no head for numbers, as befitting a rich young master who has never had to count his pennies. He'd talked about Jin Ling being a brat, but also a hard worker. How he was so eager to assume all the responsibilities of a Leader that Jiang Cheng worried he would forget to take care of himself. He'd talked about Jin Ling flitting around from sect to sect, always busy with something. Always on the move these days. Always trying to please everyone.
(I worry about you, Uncle. I hope you know that.)
"But you've said yourself, he is a very capable young man," Lan Xichen says reasonably, waiting for Jiang Cheng to agree. He remains silent though. No more blabbering, now that this thing is coming to an end. Watching Lan Xichen pack away the brushes, patting the inkstick dry and wiping the table down, it makes him feel... it makes Jiang Cheng roll his shoulders back, straighten his spine, and exhale slowly. As he does so, something inside him clicks into place (like shackles over his wrists), and he sees Lan Xichen's smile waver, his hands hovering uncertainly over the box of pigments."Jiang Wanyin?"Something has been building up inside him. For the past few days or weeks, or maybe even longer. Without him realising it, slowly it's been growing and growing, and he doesn't know what to do about it."It's nothing." The moment he says so, he immediately wishes he hadn't. That's what people say when there is definitely something. Of all people, Lan Xichen would probably know that best. Indeed, something flits across his face which makes Jiang Cheng want to drop everything and leave, because now he's going to ask, and this isn't something he wants to talk about.(What more can he ask him though? What has Jiang Cheng not already said? Has he not been muttering to himself the past few hours like a madman?So dedicated to his writing, that it was without conscious thought that he had done so, and without intending to reveal anything that he accidentally exposed himself. Within the vulnerable pleasure of discovering this new hobby, Jiang Cheng talked about Jin Ling, but it was his own fears speaking in disguise.What if, despite all Lan Xichen's assurances, his skill in calligraphy ends up being mediocre? Will that take from his pleasure? What is the point in doing something that has no purpose to it if he is not even good at it? Is he wasting time that could be better spent elsewhere?How is it that can never just enjoy doing something without judging himself? How is it that he doesn't know how to be happy? How can that be? Is Jin Ling really going to follow in his footsteps? Will he be doomed to the same fate of reaching for the unreachable?And now, as he reminds himself that this is not Lan Xichen's problem, he really wishes that he'd never spoken at all. He wishes his aching joints were throbbing muscles, bruised and bloody from hard work.)"If it's about his lessons, I assure you that I have them all memorised, and whatever advice I can give him, I most definitely will, but... oh." Lan Xichen cuts off abruptly, dragging Jiang Cheng's attention back, just in time to catch him looking rather wide-eyed. "You... please tell me you're not considering adding more to his curriculum?"He barks out a laugh, but inside he thinks that... yes. He is considering it. Everything he wants Jin Ling to learn is another piece of armour in the form of advice. The more he knows, the less he'll falter, the less people will be able to hurt him, or take advantage of his inexperience.If Jin Ling will not take these things from his hands, or rather—if he will not allow Jiang Cheng to help him anymore, what other choice does he have but to hope that Lan Xichen's instructions will be better received? And the thing is that...This is not about Jin Ling. It's about him. It's his selfish desire, to want to be important to somebody. But he has run out of time, and Jin Ling's childhood is coming to an end, and—He can't help but how it will all end. Things will inevitably change between them, but will that mean... but what will that mean? Will Jin Ling eventually stop caring about what Jiang Cheng thinks anymore? Will he take the time to listen to him, or will he find himself too busy to? Will the only time they see each other be at Discussion Conferences, as two Sect Leaders separated by their duties?The longer he stays at the Cloud Recesses, the more he talks about all the things he wants for Jin Ling, the more he can convince himself that he can put this off for just a bit longer.It's a thought that he cannot make sense of: the fact that he wants to stay, if only because there's an irrational belief in his head that the moment he steps foot out of Gusu, he and Jin Ling will never cross paths again. He knows that when he brings Jin Ling here in the autumn, by the time he leaves next year he won't be returning to Yunmeng with him.He'll be all set then, ready to start his own life in Lanling. (But will Jiang Cheng be ready?)"Tell me," Lan Xichen urges gently, in the same tone Jiang Cheng hopes he will use with Jin Ling. "What's troubling you?"Jiang Cheng curls his hand into a fist, feeling the cool bite of metal, and under it the colder sting of lightning. A-Niang, why are you giving Zidian to me? He can almost feel her hands on his shoulders, straightening his collar, as though he weren't already covered in dirt and blood. I'm giving this to you so that it's yours hereafter. Jiang Cheng waits for the agony of that memory to pass, and Lan Xichen holds perfectly still, as though he is aware that Jiang Cheng needs a moment. He marvels at how despite his current infirmity, Lan Xichen's eyes are as sharp as ever. He remains observant in a way that he can admire and sensitive in a way Jiang Cheng could never hope to be.Then he wonders how he can wrap up everything that is going on in the chaos of his mind. The answer is startlingly simple."I want to protect him."
I want to give him everything I never had. I want to keep him safe. I don't want him to grow up.
(I don't want him to leave me.)
"But I can't," Jiang Cheng chokes out, feeling the weight of this pressing down on him. "I'm not enough.""Protect him?" Lan Xichen echoes, but it seems he isn't really asking Jiang Cheng.He twists his fingers together, the ring of metal grinding against the bone. "Even I—it's not that... there's nothing I really want to protect him from. It's just... everything, you know? So much has been happening lately, and all at once too.""Life certainly does seem that way sometimes," Lan Xichen muses.Jiang Cheng ignores the tightening in his gut, the little voice warning him to shut up, and for the love of God, stop giving Zewu-Jun more things to stress over, it's not as if he hasn't got enough to worry about. "You say you have... advice to give him. But do you have any you can give me?" Jiang Cheng tries to smile, but only manages to earn a sobering look from the other man as he seriously considers his request. "If you really want my advice, it would be... to tell him." He hesitates, seeming to be looking for a better way to put it. Jiang Cheng waits, intrigued. Tell him? Tell him what? "Talk to him," Lan Xichen clarifies, "Because if you want to protect him, you must try to make him understand.""Understand?"Lan Xichen's lips thin, his brows creasing. Jiang Cheng says nothing, holding his breath. "Forgive me," he begins, "But I... I believe that what you fear is him having to face the same troubles we did. Am I correct in that assumption?"Jiang Cheng feels something splitting inside him. An easing of pressure. (He gets it. He understands.)"Yes."Lan Xichen looks relieved. "Then I would suggest talking to him about what you went through—""Why?"They both stare for a few moments, the confluence of their thoughts breaking apart suddenly, diverging onto different waters. "Well," Lan Xichen says, "So that he can understand your concerns, to appreciate what it is you fear—""What I went through?" Jiang Cheng demands, latching onto that point. "Why would he need to know about that?"Lan Xichen continues, his voice steady, if careful. "If we can prevent future generations from repeating our mistakes, then we spare them the pain—""Do we, or do we only burden them with knowing?" We spare them the pain? Does he truly believe that? Is it not painful to have to bear the guilt of blood spilt not by your own hands, but taken in your name nevertheless? It is a stain that doesn't wash out. Not from tears, nor from begging forgiveness. Jiang Cheng knows his fearsome reputation is marked by the crimes he has committed, but he would prefer to at least keep Jin Ling from knowing all of what he's done.And as for what he has been through... he'd like to at least save himself some face, at least in his nephew's eyes. "The mistakes I have made are mine to remember," he says, "And mine to bear. Alone."Lan Xichen's eyes narrow. "Be that as it may—""No, listen, Jin Ling gains nothing from learning about it, and don't you think," he grits out, "That given recent events, he has enough to deal with already? Or have you forgotten whose crimes he has to answer for? Whose responsibilities he is having to take on?"Surprisingly, Lan Xichen doesn't rise to the bait. He waits for Jiang Cheng to calm down, and after a few deep breaths when he actually manages to, his face flushes with shame.Lan Xichen doesn't call him out on it though (doesn't call him out on anything, in fact). It's this that takes the wind out of Jiang Cheng's sails, and he sags in both defeat and utter bafflement, because how was he able to calm down so quickly? That he was able to argue with someone without losing himself to the hot haze of anger that usually clouds his vision is... almost unheard of.Maybe it is because Lan Xichen knows where he's coming from, that he can bear his harsh words without flinching. Maybe it's because Lan Xichen has been around Jiang Cheng long enough to have been expecting this kind of reaction from him. (Or maybe it's due to the papers tucked in his sleeves, the reason why Jiang Cheng can come back to his senses. Maybe it's because they have spent hours painting together, that Lan Xichen is just as able to handle Jiang Cheng's temper as he is to face his harsh criticisms.)"I haven't," he eventually says, dousing the last of Jiang Cheng's anger. (Of course, he hasn't. How could he, of all people, forget?) "But if you want to protect him, don't you think that that means preparing him for the unknown?"Jiang Cheng stares. "What do you think all these freaking meetings about his lessons have been for?""To prepare him for leadership, but not for heartbreak." Lan Xichen says softly. His eyes flick downwards, finally taking the pressure off Jiang Cheng for long enough for him to regain his breath. He desperately wants to know—heartbreak, is that what this is? But, if that's the case... "How do I prepare him for that?" The answer comes immediately: "You don't." Lan Xichen's fingertips come to rest on the edge of the table. "You can't."Jiang Cheng's face twists."You said so yourself that you can't, and you're right. That is the hardest part of raising children," Lan Xichen says quietly. "Knowing that you cannot protect them forever."He can accept that surprisingly easily. He has known all his life, that children grow up, but leaders must grow up faster. That is not the problem here.What Jiang Cheng cannot understand is what good it will do for Jin Ling to learn about his past. What he's been through? It's not what he'd wish on his worst enemy.(Well, maybe that's wrong. He totally would.) He remembers how his mother would raise her voice to a shrill pitch as she marched up and down the lines of sweating disciples. Do none of you understand that if you want to succeed in life, you must work for it? Later when he and Wei Wuxian were still training in the dark, she'd come by again, if just to narrow her eyes at them and click her tongue. If you children want to have a peaceful life, you must know a little hunger and coldness first. You will understand that, one day. Once she'd left, Wei Wuxian would turn to him, as though he had any idea what she'd meant.But now he does, and he disagrees—at least in this. Because it is more than the Wens and the tragedies of war that Jiang Cheng dreads telling Jin Ling about. It's the little things. The parts which he is afraid Jin Ling will mock him for. Things that hadn't threatened his life, but things... the shame of which, is something he doesn't know if he can convey. If he were to tell Jin Ling 'what he's been through', it would have to include every part of it for him to really understand.And what Lan Xichen doesn't seem to understand (or know) is that Jiang Cheng is a pitiful creature.Selfish. Jealous. Cowardly. Prideful.He has always been these things and more, and he is also observant, for how else would he have found his reasons to be so?He heard it from the people around him. From the whisperings of others, things his parents wouldn't tell him, but things that came together to paint an ugly picture. It was a puzzle he hadn't been able to comprehend fully at the time, but there was enough there for him to understand...(There is only one time Jiang Cheng can recall, where his mother spoke to him about her marriage.He'd understood by then that it was all business between them, and he hadn't minded it until that afternoon, where his mother told him out of the blue that he must be good to whatever wife they choose for him. That when the time comes, even if you don't like her, you must be considerate of her feelings, she'd said, eyes dull and mouth stern, or else both of you will suffer for your unkindness. Alarmed by this, unable to fathom his ungovernable mother sounding so defeated, he'd asked what Father was doing to make her suffer. She hadn't answered, but it had stuck with him ever since, and so he took on that second-hand pain. Every time afterwards, when his mother threw out the same old lines, do you even remember which one of them is your son? he'd think to himself, she's suffering, they both are, and his stomach would churn with regret, for things he'd had no part in.)It had ruined him, knowing, and what's worse—having to keep quiet about what he knew, because the shame of speaking of it... he always knew exactly how far he fell short in his father's eyes, and the reason why he would never be able to measure up against his brother. That his mother's anger was a product of him failing to be anything special. That Wei Wuxian's mischief and smiles were his own form of coping with being put in an impossible situation.It ruined the way he looked at the world. So much so, that he could no longer tell the good from the bad. He'd been fed so much of his parents' bitterness that it had become a part of him, as much as the blood in his veins. He'd taken on all the resentment of an entire clan wiped out, that he was left facing the world alone, hate festering in his heart and anger in his gut.All of this and Lan Xichen can hardly see the smoke of Jiang Cheng's fire. He has no idea how close he is to getting burnt, and so he marches blindly onwards. "Don't you think that Young Master Jin is old enough to learn about what happened? Doesn't he deserve to know the truth?"Ironically enough, it seems he was lied to. (He doesn't get it. He doesn't understand.) That fleeting hope in Jiang Cheng's heart has been extinguished, as has any hope he had that this conversation would end pleasantly. "What would he need to know?""In the event that something like what we went through was to happen again," Lan Xichen's jaw ticks, eyes falling shut. So he isn't unaffected by all of this. "If history were to repeat itself—""You would have me draw him a map then, as the one who has the most experience making mistakes?" Jiang Cheng is satisfied to see those eyes fly open. Unlike Lan Wangji's sharp, cat-like yellow, his are darker and more doe-like. They make him appear almost painfully young at this moment as he looks at Jiang Cheng, confused but sweetly trusting. He grits his teeth. "You would have me tell him exactly how it can be done?"Lan Xichen stares for a long moment. "How what can be done?""Don't pretend you don't know," Jiang Cheng growls. "That what I tell him will lead him on anything other than a ruinous path."The silence that falls is the opposite of comfortable. Things are crumbling around them, but Jiang Cheng refuses to back down. He is aware of the blood staining his hands, as is Lan Xichen. That Zidian crackles in response to his feelings has him stroking the metal band as if to soothe it. Lan Xichen observes this without flinching (this, being a warning to his disciples take, to run for the hills whilst they still can), and calmly waits until the ring has stopped glowing."Jiang Wanyin, you asked for my advice," he says evenly. Jiang Cheng grunts. "Then please understand, I only want to help the younger generation know where to place their feet, so that they may walk a further distance than we have reached. That is what I meant about history repeating itself. Would you have your nephew cut his feet on the same rocks as you have?""How poetic." Jiang Cheng cracks his knuckles. "And is there no option for him to walk his own path, thereby avoiding those rocks completely?""It is very unlikely that there is. With the world we live in, there will always be rocks." "But you're trying to say that the only way I can protect him is to hurt him?""The truth always hurts," Lan Xichen answers instead, "But of the few accounts of the war that I have read, none of them come close to telling it like it actually was.""History is written by the victors," Jiang Cheng says hollowly. "But you would have him hear it from our mouths too? What difference would it make?" He drags out another laugh, this one cracking halfway through. "Really, what is there to be learnt from my past?"(How to lose everything and everyone you hold dear? How to forget what happiness is? How to become a monster?)"Your story deserves to be told, Jiang Wanyin," Lan Xichen says, sincere as ever. "I know it can be difficult to recount those dark days, but the past cannot hurt us now."Again, Jiang Cheng wants to demand—can't it? Then why does it hurt me still? (Is it because he deserves to suffer? Or is he just a coward? Is he weak? Is he crying over nothing? But is he, if he is still afraid? If he is still alone? Is it not nothing, that he is still hurting?)"How can you say that? Speak for yourself, but don't you dare presume to know anything about me." Rage surges through him, his voice dripping with scorn. "You really think you can stop things from happening again, don't you? How arrogant, to believe that you alone can stand in the way of fate!" (Oh god. He's losing it again, but even this time there is no red haze to obscure Lan Xichen's face. He can see through the anger, even as it speaks and moves for him. Searching for the most vulnerable flesh, aiming to injure, to maim. It's like watching a beast tracking its kill, but seeing it through the eyes of the predator—and he knows the moment it spots what Lan Xichen is still healing from. A weakness. A betrayal.)Jiang Cheng is on his feet. He has no idea when he got there, but he is standing above Lan Xichen, his blood burning like acid and pulse ticking in his temple. "Tell me, is your mind really so steady and your conscience so clear, that you can see through every deception?"To his horror, he moves closer till he is looming above Lan Xichen, literally looking down on him. He can feel the muscles in his face moving, but in spite of whatever expression he is making, Lan Xichen only stares up at him blandly. He doesn't seem to have any idea how far Jiang Cheng can go with this. He knows how horrifying he must look, familiar with the sensation of his lips stretched into a sneer."Why don't you look at your mistakes and tell me, why is it that they happened? Take a look at your past and tell me, does it not hurt you still?""Of course it does," Lan Xichen says. "But I didn't... I'm not—" "You speak of the truth, but who are you to speak of it? What do you know of it? Have you no shame?"It's a nightmare, watching this. Watching and helpless to stop it. That thing that was building inside him has outgrown him. Overwhelmed him. Exploded like a burst dam.Finally, Lan Xichen's composure breaks. Or more like it shatters.Just like the inkstone Jiang Cheng hurls at the ground. There was only a little ink left in the well, but it splatters everywhere. Over Lan Xichen's robes, on a few of Jiang Cheng's poems he hadn't yet put away, seeping into the floorboards.Jiang Cheng swears loudly because it seems that this is what it takes for him to snap out of it. Now, with his hands and sleeves covered in ink, with his throat raw and eyes burning... he cannot bear to look at Lan Xichen, but the tiny noise he makes forces him to.And what he finds reminds him of every person he has ever whipped with Zidian, their startled expressions permanently etched into his mind. Zidian always stings, but never in the way you expect it to. It is both ice-cold and burning, a sharp fire that freezes your blood. Sometimes his victims don't even realise they're dying until they can't move, blood pouring from their wounds and frothing from their lips.Right now, on Lan Xichen's face is that same look. Stunned beyond belief, and bleeding... only, his injuries are invisible where Jiang Cheng struck him, at the very heart of his grief. His face is pale, drained of all colour. If Lan Xichen had looked sickly before, now he looks—now he...He swallows thickly, rising slowly to his feet. He is taller than Jiang Cheng (and has always been), but with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched in, he doesn't look it.(He did this to him. He, Jiang Cheng, has made him like this.)"I... I'm..." Lan Xichen shivers and flinches when Jiang Cheng inhales sharply, nauseated with guilt and shame. What type of depraved person would hurt a man like Lan Xichen? (He would. Of course, it would be him.) "...please, excuse me," he mumbles, ducking in a quick bow. Jiang Cheng can only bow in return, heart sinking when he hears Lan Xichen staggering his way out of the cottage.Only when the door has shut does he risk lifting his head, his eyes landing on the broken inkstone, stomach clenching at the ruined papers. He counts four large pieces and collects them one by one. Fitted together, they form what would have been a rather beautiful dragon, expertly carved out of what he recognises to be a rare type of dark green riverstone. Smooth and jade-like, he figures it must have been rather expensive.Jiang Cheng fights the urge to smack himself repeatedly in the face. Maybe he should, given that his hands are black with ink. It would be humiliating to leave the cottage with his face marked as such, but maybe that humiliation is what he deserves.Jiang Cheng hesitates, but then goes to fetch some water and rags, and gets to scrubbing the floor. He takes his time to mop up every bit of ink he can. Considering how slowly Lan Xichen was walking, he hopes to give him enough time to leave in peace. He doesn't think either of them would want to bump into the other so soon after... after all of that. By the time he is done, his sleeves are saturated and clinging to his arms. They were already stained by the ink, but... oh no, the drawings. He quickly pulls out the sodden pieces of paper, but—they're ruined. Completely soaked through. Jiang Cheng exhales shakily.If you track my progress, I'll track yours.What is there to track anymore? It's all ruined. It's all...After a moment, he rips off the ruined ends of his sleeves and folds the broken pieces of stone into the cloth.Then, after casting one last look around at the empty space, he leaves. As for where he goes, he lets his feet wander as his mind does. And so it is a slow, meandering route that he takes.It's darker now, the afternoon passed swiftly into the evening. Jiang Cheng finds himself quickly forgoing the path that leads back to the main house, circling around the cottage instead, and going in the opposite direction to be further out of reach. He hopes that no one will come looking for him. Whether the place is forbidden from visitors or not, he figures it won't matter anymore. In all likelihood, he's expecting to be kicked out by the morning. Sucking in lungfuls of cold, wet air, he cannot understand it. What is it about the Cloud Recesses that gets him so emotional?Being sensitive and nostalgic is a dangerous combination for him, like leaving a child near an open flame. Reflecting on the disaster of his conversation with Lan Xichen, he cannot pinpoint what was it that set him off so badly.As far as he can tell, it was a bit of everything. Being told to face his past, and to tell Jin Ling about it too. Being told that it was the only way he could protect him, but that despite all his efforts he won't be able to protect him from everything. Out of everything the reason for his loss of face has to be himself, his inability to let go of anything regarding the past, and his fear of losing Jin Ling fuelling that sense of panic.The fact is that he can't seem to let go of his grudges, no matter how big or small, and his worries that Jin Ling will be the same.Because he is (in many ways) a lot like him. Every time Jiang Cheng tells Jin Ling about his parents, he knows he is encouraging him to ask more, to long for more, to grieve for more. If the boy can barely handle their losses, Jiang Cheng can only imagine what learning about the rest of it would do to him. (There is some hope though, that Jin Ling won't end up so much like him. He has told Jiang Cheng that when he goes on night-hunts with the Two Mini Jades, Wen Ning is almost always there too. The first time he told Jiang Cheng that, he was shocked speechless. Mainly because he's been told that Jin Ling had (understandably) attacked the Ghost General upon their first meeting, so for them to have become so close... he hadn't known how to feel about it. He still doesn't.Even though he cannot completely blame Wen Ning for what happened, now he knows the truth, he still cannot stomach the thought of Wen Ning himself. He cannot let go of his hatred for the Wens, because how can he justify any of his past actions if he were to sympathise with them now?)That's the thing he keeps coming back to—his main issue with the past. If he were to let any of it go, what would that mean? Where would that leave him? What is he, without his anger?(How does he have so little of an idea of what it takes to make a person? For all his years spent cultivating his spirit and building himself, he has learned nothing of what he is made of.)As Jiang Cheng walks, he searches himself again, for answers. For why it's been impossible not to think of the past lately when he usually keeps it at a distance. He still cannot agree with Lan Xichen on one thing: I know it can be difficult to recount those dark days, but the past cannot hurt us now. If that is true, why then does every memory he owns ache to remember? If it isn't blood and wrath, it is the melancholy of days long past. The yearning for times that he wishes he could return to.What has knowing of the past ever done but give Jiang Cheng an endless supply of pain?Take Wei Wuxian for example—whenever he tries or dares to look back on their past with fondness, the memories he scrapes together are so meagre that it always ends with him left wanting. So few, so mundane, and half of them lost to time.It may seem effortless, the way the two of them fall into step together these days, but that is nothing more than muscle memory. It is jarring to turn to him and see a different face. To hear him laugh, and find himself searching for that spark of his brother in Mo XuanYu's unfamiliar eyes. To go back at the end of the day to different homes. To fall asleep to dreams filled with green fire, shrill flute music, and a brother who is always so far out of reach.Things he usually keeps buried deep have come to the surface, and for whatever reason, they remain there. The past is always close everywhere he looks in the Cloud Recesses, because in a way—it is the birthplace where so many things in his life began.From the moment he and Wei Wuxian stepped foot here, so many years ago. From that day onwards their lives changed forever. Every memory of those days bursts with emotion, the vibrancy of youth colouring things so brightly.This isn't the place which holds everything dear to him, but... he cannot risk wandering around Lotus Pier, hoping to find those old places and finding nothing. He has tried to before, but his failure to find anything sent him on such a rampage, that he didn't dare try it again. The only memories he has here, in the Cloud Recesses, are relatively safe ones to remember.Jiang Cheng crosses a stretch of knee-high grass dotted with purple swaying flowers barely visible in the dimness of evening.When everything around him is beckoning to him, urging him to recall those better days... he cannot understand it, but he always feels like he is searching for something. Whenever he wanders aimlessly like this, it's as if he is being tugged along by an invisible hand. As if he is being led towards something, and he gets the feeling that whatever it is, it's something... important.(Something that matters.) Not everything began here, but as Jiang Cheng passes through a thick, billowing mist, and finds a pond on the far side of the cottage—he stops in his tracks. There are lotuses here. Small ones, fewer and (in his opinion) far less impressive than the ones of Yunmeng, but seeing them, he... there is something niggling in the back of his mind.Standing there, he gets the feeling he's been here before.There are dragonflies everywhere. A crowd of them hovering above the water's surface and darting about in zigzag lines. It isn't their season yet, so he's a little surprised to see that there are so many.Bugs. Ugh. Jiang Cheng cringes as one comes near his face, batting it aside. Then he spots something on the other side of the water. A pair of butterflies fluttering past. Those, he likes. Watching them dancing up into the tree-line brings a smile to his face. Of all insects, butterflies aren't so bad. Jiang Cheng sighs, and after a moment of indecision, decides what the hell. His clothes are beyond saving, he might as well sit on the wet grass. He scoots as close to the pond's edge as he can, feeling the water call to him like it always does and pulls off his boots to dip his toes in. Something about this place is so soothing.Maybe it's being among the lotuses, or the glow of the setting sun casting everything in shades of pink and buttery gold, the red sky darkening to deep indigo in the west. By his guess, Yunmeng will have a few more hours of light left. It's this paradox that he exists in: where places and moments like this fill him with a longing for home, but when he returns there, that hunger is never satisfied.Right now, this feeling of homesickness—and this is where Jiang Cheng halts.Because he'd thought that this wasn't where everything began. Oh, but it is. Because this is where they'd first met. Suddenly he remembers.Feeling homesick. Crying so much that he could barely breathe, he was... it was Lan Xichen who brought him here. This is where he brought him to calm him down when he was little, because the lotuses... I heard the ones you have in Yunmeng are much prettier, but these will have to do for now. Do you like them? The older boy had carried him to the water, keeping a hand on his collar when he made to dive right in. Ah-ah, Young Master! I don't think your father will be very happy if I let you drown. He'd thrashed in his hold, insisting that he was a good swimmer. That he wanted to go home. That these lotuses weren't good enough—I want to go home. Patient and kind, Lan Xichen had held him steady and then turned him around to face the... Jiang Cheng spins around. To face the cottage. The Gentian House.My mother lives over there, he'd said, pointing out the little house. Can you wave to her with me? She'll be really happy if you do. Angry, but distracted by this, he joined Lan Xichen in waving at the house, and gasped when the curtain had fluttered. From that distance, he'd not been able to see her, but Lan Xichen had praised him nevertheless, thanking him for joining in.And then... then what? Jiang Cheng digs his fingers in the grass, struggling to remember what had happened next. A dragonfly comes to hover right in front of his face, startling him with its speed, and—that's right!Dragonflies. Painting. Exhausted from all the crying, he'd fallen asleep, and when he'd woken, Lan Xichen had brought out paper and inks—and he'd made a right mess of them. Splashing ink everywhere, much to the older boy's dismay. Even as he'd tried to stop Jiang Cheng's little hands from grabbing everything, he'd eventually realised it was a lost cause. Then Jiang Cheng had demanded that Lan Xichen paint for him, because his little fingers were too clumsy to hold the brush.
What do you want me to draw?
The memory surges forth, shockingly clear, less trickling and more pouring out of everything he sees. The pond. Draw a duck! Lan Xichen had complied. Anything to placate this unruly child. Draw another one. He needs a friend! He'd been so pleased with the results that he'd grabbed the paper and—Torn it in his excitement. Knocked the pot of ink over and spilt it on everything.
It's okay, it's okay! Don't cry!
He'd been whisked away from the mess, scooped up and carried over to the... the cottage to be cleaned up. (Madame Lan, so he'd actually met her! Jiang Cheng cannot recall her face, but he vaguely recalls hearing her laughing in the background.) Please don't cry, Lan Xichen had begged, wiping his face. I'm not angry. It was an accident. Do you want me to paint you something else? No, he hadn't. He'd gone back to wanting nothing more than to go home, and seeing that it was pointless trying to comfort him any further, Lan Xichen had agreed.After dressing him in... in the Gusu Lan whites (oh god, so he's worn them twice then? Once back then, and once now as well??), he took him to see his little brother first, since he'd been meaning to play with him earlier (until Jiang Cheng had turned up and messed up his plans, that is), and hoped that maybe he and Jiang Cheng might become friends... Was that why Lan WangJi had reacted so badly to meeting him? Seeing him dressed in his sect's robes, being carried by his big brother. Maybe he'd thought he was being replaced?Jiang Cheng can't help but laugh now, at all of it.The ridiculousness of every part of that experience, fully restored by this unexpected trip down memory lane. His laugh tapers off as he realises... how kind Lan Xichen is, and has always been to him, even back then.During the Sunshot Campaign, though their interactions were few, he'd always made sure to ask about his sister, his clan, and himself. And now? After a year of seclusion, Lan Xichen is still as kindhearted as ever and seems (for whatever reason) determined to convince Jiang Cheng to take up calligraphy.Something to do for no other reason than his own entertainment. Something that gives him joy.He rips up a handful of grass, sprinkling it into the water. It had given him joy, to sit with Lan Xichen and paint for a while.The only other time he can recall feeling such peace and contentment was sitting in his sister's lap, with her reading to him in her calm, steady voice.She used to have a tendency to ad-lib during this, mainly because (surprisingly enough) she'd had rather strong opinions on what constituted good storytelling, and often disagreed with the morals the authors were trying to preach. She preferred to draw her own conclusions, or simply tell him about her thoughts on the world, with him as her only captive audience. But there is something Jiang Cheng remembers now, because it had been a rare occurrence—something that she'd read, that had caused her to stop midway, so taken by it that she told him so. She'd agreed with it so passionately, that she made a point of reading it to him often, and it quickly became a favourite of theirs: the strangest of bedtime stories.A-Cheng, she'd say, pulling him close, see here, what it says. Pleasure... is a freedom-song, but not freedom itself. It is the blossoming of your desires, but not their fruit. Jiang Cheng murmurs the words to himself now, remembering them word-for-word, and finally (after all these years) he understands.
I would have you sing it with the fullness of your heart, my love, but...
"I would not have you lose your heart in singing," he recites in a whisper, hugging his knees to his chest. Eyes shut, he draws upon the voice that had soothed him, the arms that had held him. The hands which had wiped his hands of ink, and his face of tears. The kindness of these two, which he had taken for granted. "Some would remember their pleasures with... regret. Like wrongs committed in drunkenness, but regret is the beclouding of the mind—"(What does that mean? he'd asked. She'd hummed, brushing hair off his forehead. Read on, she'd urged, and maybe you will understand.)"They should remember their pleasures with gratitude, as they would the harvest of summer."
Yet if it comforts them to regret, let them be comforted. There are those who are neither young to seek, nor old to remember, but in their fear of seeking and remembering they shun all pleasures, lest they neglect the spirit or offend against it.
"...even in their forgoing, is their pleasure. And thus they find treasure, though they dig for roots with quivering hands." His hands are steady now but stained with ink and mud. Stiff from too much writing. Jiang Cheng pulls out a bundle of cloth, the contents of it clinking together. "In denying yourself, you do but store the desire in the recesses of your being."
And who knows but that which was omitted today, simply waits for tomorrow?
Here, she would end it, with those last words ringing in the silence, as she'd tucked him up in bed.Here, Jiang Cheng bends till his forehead meets his kneecaps, and huddled in this quiet corner of the Cloud Recesses, he aches for yesterday.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
To understand your parents love you must raise children yourself.
The best thing about being on top of a mountain is undeniably the view.Standing on the tall peaks of the Cloud Recesses gives the most breathtaking panoramas across the land, and on clearer days you can even see all the way out to the coast. Some nights it feels as though the starry skies are within reach—as though all it would take is stretching your hand upwards, and you'd be able to touch the moon. The problem with being on top of a mountain, though, is that it is also fucking cold. The floating mists do fuck all to trap in any daytime heat, so when the sun sets the temperature drops to resemble that of deep midwinter.By moonrise, Jiang Cheng is shivering uncontrollably, but he remains exactly where he has been since evening. For a while he sat there just because there was nowhere else he could go where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. After a while though, in his mind at least, it became a form of self-punishment. Toes burning in the frigid water, arms locked around his knees.Now, almost blue from cold, but with a beautiful view to admire… it's hardly the worst punishment he’s ever had. He knows that if he’d gone back to the main house, he would have had to face being attended by all these people who would have no idea what he had done to their precious Zewu-Jun. He couldn’t stomach the thought of it, because they wouldn't know, and by his guess, Lan Xichen wouldn't tell them either. It would only cause both of them to lose face if he did, and Lan Xichen isn’t a vengeful person (like him). He won't drag Jiang Cheng down, even though he has every right to bring him down to size.No, in all likelihood, he won't tell a soul about it. But Jiang Cheng will know, and he will know too, and so... if no one will punish him, the only choice is for him to punish himself.Hence him freezing his balls off outdoors, like a moron. The only thing preventing him dying from exposure is the warmth in his core, which he channels out to his extremities in a steady stream. It wouldn't do to lose his toes or fingers to frostbite. He would have to explain himself, and probably end up looking really, really stupid.As Jiang Cheng closes his eyes to the sparkling heavens, it takes all his concentration not to succumb to the cold, his teeth rattling together so violently that the sound bounces around in his skull. He wishes he could go back in time.(He always does.)He wishes he could take it all back, what he’d said. Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut, throat clicking as he swallows dryly. The image of the First Jade has been burnt into the back of his eyelids, his stunned expression causing Jiang Cheng’s stomach to churn with guilt. The way his eyes flew open and he became as pale as paper… he hadn’t deserved Jiang Cheng’s anger.
(Have you no shame?)
The ink on his hands is dry now and leaves no mark. His cheek is too numb to feel the slap, but the whip-like crack echoes for miles.Jiang Cheng fiddles with the sharp edge the broken inkstone, fingers pressing against it till he... well he can't really tell if he's cut himself or not. He cannot feel much of anything anymore, and there isn't enough light to see by. The head of the dragon is distinct though, easy enough to make out in the dark. He traces the scaly indentations, following the winding snake-like shape of it till it ends abruptly under his thumb. Often, when he is turning something over in his mind, his hands will wander to the wooden bannisters found all over Lotus Pier, or fall to the solid arms of his favourite chair. He’ll lightly stroke the carved petals of the lotuses at each post or squeeze the vine-like grooves lining his armrests. For some reason, he finds it comforting to physically hold something. To know it by touch. To feel it in his hands. His mind drifts, hands also drifting to the bell hanging from his belt. Fingers stroking the engraved lines of nine petals, heart seeking the day he was gifted it. The day itself had been nothing special. An occasion which only marked him being old enough to wield a sword, and hence being deemed old enough to serve Yunmeng Jiang. It was no 'coming of age' ceremony, nor anything requiring any official witnesses, but Wei Wuxian had insisted on coming regardless (with his bell already tied at his hip).Once he'd bowed after pledging an oath to the Sect Leaders, his mother had dismissed him. Just like that—it was over.Wei Wuxian had slapped him on the shoulder and dragged him out to 'celebrate', but he'd kept turning back to gaze at his parents longingly as they shrank into the distance, ears straining to pick out their voices over the din of squabbling street vendors and Wei Wuxian babbling in his ear. They’d fought so often that it shouldn't have struck him as anything different to hear it that day, but never before had he felt such a trembling in his soul. The moment he touched his bell, it had rung so loudly that the sound almost felt like it would shatter him.It can help calm the mind, his father had (ironically) told him, not bothering to explain the bell's other important functions before sending Jiang Cheng off. From what he knew though, it was also able to warn its wearer of dangerous situations, the spells engraved into it specially designed to detect and repel resentful energy. For a while, he'd wondered if his bell was broken.Because after that day it never stopped ringing. A little while later he even started to notice a pattern.It chimed whenever his parents were in a room together, which was almost daily. Even when they weren't speaking, it would make itself known. When they were passing by each other, even if they refused to acknowledge each other, he’d feel it humming quietly in his ears. He'd mentioned it once to his brother, who’d told him that the bell would only respond to its master, because once given it became connected to their spirit. He'd turned the question on him then, fascinated to know what it was he was hearing, to which Jiang Cheng... well, he couldn't explain it himself. On days when he'd hide in his room, unable to bear being around them any longer, he would still hear it chime every now and again, so... maybe it wasn't them that was the problem, but him? His heart in turmoil, his resentment about... everything. Maybe the reason it rang for him was because he’d needed extra calming as a child. Especially in those moments (which happened all the time) when he didn't know what to think, or how to feel about being his parents' son.After a while, he grew so accustomed to the sound that he learned to tune it out. The irony of this was not lost on him, but... it was what it was. Life was dangerous, he was resentful. It didn't come as much of a surprise. But after losing Lotus Pier, after losing everything… after that, it fell abruptly silent.Jiang Cheng hadn't thought much of it at the time. Hadn't asked himself why. Couldn't have cared less to question it.Only after a few years did he notice its absence.On a chilly autumn night, after finally getting Jin Ling to go to sleep, he'd stood at his crib with every hair on his body standing on end. Then he'd grabbed the bell and had shaken it. He shook it again. Took it outside and shook it next to the ear of every servant he passed by until most of the household were awake, and asking him if he was feeling unwell. The silence held tight, and he’d wondered for a while, whether he was going mad again. Was this another symptom? Another part of his sanity gone? But how could he afford to lose his sanity again when Jin Ling needed him alive and well? He'd considered chopping the bell off and throwing it away... but what good would that do? What it came down to, was one question: was it the bell that was broken, or was he?After his panic had passed, the change became just another thing he forced himself to ignore. It was just another thing to remind him that he was alone.The silence was deafening at first, and the implications of it suffocating, but then… he’d lost the will to care anymore. He hated whenever the lack of sound would get to him—always in his unguarded moments when he was too tired to control his wandering mind. The doubts would swirl around in his head, wreaking havoc as the bell remained utterly silent.Are you happy now? it seemed to ask, glinting with the pendulum swing of his strides. After so many years of me ring-ring-ringing in your ear. Was this not what you wanted? Peace and quiet, at long last.(But he’d never wanted it to be quiet. He had only wanted peace. Why was that so difficult to understand?)Jiang Cheng holds the bell in his hand now, rolling it about in his palm. What would the people think if it became known that the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang couldn't use one of his own clan's revered magical tools? Shameful. Unworthy.His parents would spit blood (thank god they’d died not knowing), and he... despite each of his parents’ fights marking him like scars, would give anything to go back to those times. To listen to the bell ring as they shouted at him, or at each other. To hear it scream and scream where he remained silent. To be caught in that hellish in-between, stood between his parents and hating being there, not knowing how lucky he’d been—(To have them there with him, alive. To have had the honour of being their son.)He rolls it around for a while, then lets it tumble back onto his robes.Then—ding. Jiang Cheng freezes. Hands stiff, fingers swollen, he fumbles for the bell. Lifts it to his ear. Ding. He struggles to see it in the darkness, turning it over to look for anything different. He leaps to his feet or tries to, but then his frozen limbs betray him, and topple him onto the ground. It’s… but it's been silent for years now, so… what is it? Is there something out there? Resentful energy?He casts his senses out but can sense nothing nearby himself. Or… could it be sensing resentful energy aimed towards Lan Xichen? After all, there had been that intruder. What if... but during their conversation he hadn’t noticed anything, and Lan Xichen isn't within range now for the bell to detect anything. And it only started just now. None of this makes any sense. Jiang Cheng squeezes the bell as if hoping to muffle the sound... but then its sweet chime is not really a sound, is it?And so it passes through his fingers, ringing out into the night.
It can help calm the mind.
If that is true, then he should not listen. Calming his mind right now would be the easy way out. A calm mind is not what he deserves. Not after what he's done. He needs to reflect on his mistakes. To repent. (Why else would he be sitting in the cold for hours? Does he not deserve to be punished?)Please don't cry. Jiang Cheng halts at the memory of a young Lan Xichen tenderly wiping his red, snotty face. I'm not angry. It was an accident.This was not an accident though. He'd meant to hurt Lan Xichen. With deadly accuracy, he'd found his weak points and went for them.Even with Lan Wangji, his anger had been aimed deliberately, like arrows to the kill. He'd been a clumsy child back then, but now there is no excuse for his poor behaviour. And he has always been like this. Irascible. Violent. Difficult to get along with. Barbed with thorns on every inch of his being. He isn’t gentle. He isn’t kind.(But if those parts of him haven't changed, why has this changed then? Why does the bell ring again after all this time? If it is a warning to calm his mind, then it has come too late. Where was its guidance earlier this day? Or during the war, when he could barely see past the desire to kill? Where has it been whenever he has lost his temper ever since? Why has it returned to him now of all times?)Jiang Cheng can't help thinking that a bell like this (or maybe one that, you know, actually works) would be more useful to someone like Lan Xichen. To warn him away from those who would seek to take advantage of his kind nature, or people like him whose very existence is a threat to his happiness.He shudders, remembering how Lan Xichen's robes were splattered by ink. How closely it echoed other times, when Zidian would slice too deep, and arcs of blood would spray across the room. Ink of that quality won't wash out clean, especially with clothes that pristine white. How is Lan Xichen going to explain it to others?It was an accident, he’ll probably say (breaking yet another rule), my hand slipped. He has to fix this somehow. Or at the very least, he has to... to apologise to him properly (and to Lan Wangji as well), and then leave Gusu as soon as possible. Before he can do anything else to mess things up (and embarrass himself) in front of the Lans. Before he can... before he—How did it end up like this? He only came here to answer his brother’s goddamn wedding invitation. He’d stayed to organise his nephew's education. And then he… for some reason, he got it into his head that he could become a friend to Lan Xichen.So how did it come to this? How has he... why is it that he can do nothing right? What if what he’s done has ruined everything? What's wrong with him—"Uncle?"Jiang Cheng drops the bell and the bundle of stones with it.Jin Ling tumbles out of the bushes, scraping something green off his cheek. He stops immediately. A dark shape bursts out behind him, zooming straight for Jiang Cheng without stopping. He flails, clawing at the grass to anchor himself when the damn dog barrels into his back. Jin Ling approaches slowly, eyes growing bigger and bigger.He must be quite a sight."Uncle," he says, eyes flitting all over Jiang Cheng. He bears this with a grim smile, waiting for Jin Ling to process what he is seeing. "Uncle, what the hell?" Jiang Cheng's elbows creak as he folds his arms stiffly. "Lan... language."Jin Ling brushes him off, nudging Fairy aside as he crouches to examine him more closely. His mouth opens and closes a few times without sound. Then he seems to gather himself. “Where were you? You missed dinner."“…I’m aware."“But… but then, what are you doing sitting in the dark?"He has no idea what to say to this, so for a while he says nothing. Then an idea springs to mind. “H-Have you h-heard of the Lans' c-cold springs c-cultivation?""I... I have." The boy's eyebrow twitches several times. "Jingyi mentioned it to me once. The asshole said I was too dainty to handle the freezing temperatures, so I beat him up."Jiang Cheng would have smirked right here, but his face literally cannot move.“But what does that have to do with this?” Jin Ling shuffles closer, peering at him as though he's grown a third eye. Then his lips stretch into a crooked smile, eyes sparkling as he looks Jiang Cheng up and down. "I see, I see, so is that what you’re doing then? Are you trying to cultivate your toes?"“...!!”“Hahaha!”“B-Brat! You th-think you're so funny, huh? C-Come here!" He lunges but is far too slow to catch him. Jin Ling (the coward) substitutes his dog in his place. Glaring, Jiang Cheng seethes as his nephew giggles to himself and sinks one hand into Fairy’s thick, messy, blessedly warm fur. He reaches out to prod his nephew’s cheek with the other.Jin Ling flinches at his touch. “Aiyah! Cold!”"No, really? Are you sure?”“Hey now, stop, stop stop! Hold on a minute, Uncle—your sleeves," Jin Ling says, grabbing one and plucking at the torn ends. "They've been cut by something… what happened? Were you attacked?"Jiang Cheng scoffs, "As if.""Then what the… what happened? Explain yourself!”He has no idea what to say, nor how to explain this. When Jin Ling scoffs back at him (mockingly) and takes both his hands in his, it takes all Jiang Cheng's effort not to latch onto that warmth. Then he feels something passing into him, heat spilling from his fingertips and swimming up his veins.Instantly he shoves Jin Ling away, but the boy is determined to keep a hold on him. Jiang Cheng manages to twist around, dragging his ice-block feet out of the water, which startles Jin Ling away enough to stay out of range of the splash. Fairy pants with excitement, tail wagging at the thought of getting to play with both masters.“D-Don’t do that," Jiang Cheng grits out though, hissing through his teeth when fiery prickles erupt everywhere when his feet become exposed to the air. Fairy’s tail droops, recognising that his tone means no play. Jin Ling darts forwards but he bats him away. “S-Stop it. Don’t be s-stupid.”“Who are you calling stupid when you're acting like this? Are you trying to catch your death?!”Jin Ling clicks his tongue, half the buttons on his cloak already undone. After draping as much of it as he can over Jiang Cheng, he rubs vigorously through the thick cloth and it is agonising, the warmth that suddenly bursts through his blood. Sensation itches and burns at every nerve ending, spreading like a wildfire. Though the pain is unbearable, his core breathes a sigh of relief.“You're too short,” Jiang Cheng complains as soon as he is able to, the hem of the cloak pooling at his waist.Jin Ling clicks his tongue again, and suddenly his boots have been tugged off and his legs squashed under Fairy’s fat belly. Jin Ling is massaging (and grimacing at) the slabs of frozen flesh his feet have become. He spares his uncle a withering look, slapping him on the ankle.“Can't feel that,” he says, to which Jin Ling huffs and pours more spiritual energy into his skin till he can see the golden glow of his qi shining off his chin. "What were you doing out here anyway? This is so stupid.”Jiang Cheng watches him work, head bent to task as he struggles to get him warm again. His hand seeks out the bell again, but Fairy intercepts him. Jostling it with her snout, his ears strain to hear anything from it, but there is nothing. It has fallen quiet again. (Rightfully so, he thinks to himself.) Even though it's horribly embarrassing being scolded by his nephew, part of him is relieved that it’s him here. Not Wei Wuxian. Not another junior (or junior junior).Just hearing Jin Ling muttering to himself is comforting in itself, the cadence of his voice calming Jiang Cheng in the same way that listening to his baby snores used to. But even in his comfort, he cannot help but notice that Jin Ling is not the same boy he used to be. He can see that in how he stops whining without prompting, his focus turning inwards, and his efforts put towards getting his uncle warm instead of complaining about having to do so.(Two years ago, Jin Ling would have balked at the thought of having to sacrifice his cloak to the mud, or finding his uncle in this sort of state, or having to—to rub warmth back into his uncle's feet. But now he is silent, aside from his initial complaints. He really has matured, and in a way, he wouldn't have expected of him, for a good few years yet. Whether that is down to him being forced to grow up due to pressures from his sect or not, either way, Jiang Cheng is— Don't you think that Young Master Jin is old enough to learn about what happened? He’s proud of him, of course, but he also... But you've said yourself, he is a very capable young man. He also—)“Are you okay?” Jin Ling asks, forehead creasing when Jiang Cheng doesn't answer at first. He waves a hand. “Hello? Uncle? You there?"Jiang Cheng yelps when Fairy licks him. Wiping the grass only makes his hands even stickier. “What? Yes, yes, it’s… it's nothing.”Poking his calf, “Can you feel that?” Jiang Cheng shakes his head. Pinching it, “How about that? Does that hurt?”
It can be difficult to recount those dark days, but the past cannot hurt us now—
“Yes,” he lies smoothly, pulling his feet away and stuffing them into his boots. He gives up on tying the laces when his fingers prove useless and is about to get up, but then Jin Ling grabs his shoulders and holds him there."Will you… ugh, sit down. Let me do it.”“I'm fine, just leave it—”“Fairy, sit!”Jiang Cheng wheezes under her considerable weight dropping on top of him.At the same time, Jin Ling grabs one boot and starts attacking the laces. Looking down at him, Jiang Cheng is thrown by a sudden sense of deja vu, only with the roles reversed: with him battling with Jin Ling's tiny baby shoes, which had been much more fiddly to put on, and an impatient baby Jin Ling nearly kicking him in the mouth. With his laces slippery wet, Jin Ling mutters curses under his breath just like Jiang Cheng had back then. The memory flips again, and suddenly he remembers being very young himself, and his A-Jie kneeling to show him how to tie his shoes. He’d held tightly onto the top of her head to steady himself, nearly ripping out her hair when he’d lost his balance.“…so much for calling me short. Serves you right. You’ll probably need to borrow some more of Jingyi's clothes tomorrow, you know, and… hello? Uncle? Urgh, not again.”Jiang Cheng blinks, but he cannot dispel all the faces his tired mind has conjured up from the depths of his longing. All he can see is this: a younger Jin Ling, then his A-Jie, then Jin Zixuan, then himself. The last one is the one that frightens him the most. It’s like looking into a mirror. A window to a past, which should be locked up and kept far away from where others can see—“Uncle!”Jiang Cheng blinks again, this time finding himself staring at his nephew’s worried face. It’s like being doused by a bucket of ice water to suddenly see him again. Him, and just him, here and now. He throws on his best scowl. “What, are you freaking out again? I told you before, it’s noth—""Don't you dare tell me it’s nothing. It can't be nothing,” Jin Ling finishes tying the other boot, his movements jerky and shoulders hunched. "I know you're a worrier, but for you to come out here and be acting so strangely..." He pauses, head lowered and held completely still. Jiang Cheng is about to ask him what he means, but then Jin Ling blurts out, "You say that it's nothing, but what am I supposed to believe? Your words, or the tears on your face?"Tears? Jiang Cheng stupidly touches his cheeks, then realises his fingers are too numb to feel anything. Lifting his hand up to the moon though, his fingertips shine wetly, and licking his lips he tastes salt. "It's the cold air," he says automatically, wiping his face on his... his bare arm. "Shut up. Stop fussing.”“Fussing? Your skin is almost blue!”“So what?”“Are you serious?!”Jiang Cheng shoves at him weakly, but it seems he’s underestimated his nephew’s strength (or overestimated his own), because next thing he knows, he's being steered towards the path. In the summer, swarms of insects would have clustered around the lanterns lining the walkway, but right now there is nothing but their breaths clouding the air. With Fairy trotting by his hip and Jin Ling supporting him on the other side, he finds himself cornered from all sides.“I’m fine,” he insists, staggering along on dead legs. “Stop this. I can take care of myself.” “Clearly not.”“Really, you think I haven’t been through worse than this? How do you think your uncle made it this far in life? By being coddled? This is nothing!”"It's not nothing!""You—what would you know? I’m telling you, there is nothing this uncle of yours hasn’t been through.” Cold, hunger, pain… sickness, betrayal, abandonment. Torture. It has changed him irrevocably, to have experienced such things, and through some trick of fate, to have survived them. “What?” he demands when the boy shoots him a rather strange look. “What’s with that face?”For a while, Jin Ling doesn’t look like he wants to answer, but when he speaks his voice is strained. “I want you to tell me what's wrong.”
Tell me, what's troubling you?
He scowls. “Nothing is wrong. Now, will you… hey now, hold on." Jiang Cheng digs his heels in, stopping to glare down at Jin Ling. “What are you doing here?”Then he realises that… it's night time. For Jin Ling to have come to Gusu this late, it can only be an emergency. He hauls him up by the collar then and swings him from side to side, as though scanning him for anything visibly wrong."Asking me what’s wrong when you… when you—what are you doing here? Did something happen?!”“Nothing happened! I just—I came looking for you, okay? Calm down!” Jin Ling wheezes. He drops him in surprise. “You came looking for me?" “Yes! I knew you were still here, and I wanted to talk to you about something. But never mind about that.” Tugging Jiang Cheng's arm over his shoulders, Jin Ling moves them back towards the path. “That can wait. What’s more important is getting you warm—”“What did you want to talk about?“Didn’t you hear me? I said it can wait.”But if he came here at night time looking for him—Jiang Cheng spins them around again, nearly tripping over a very confused dog. “Spit it out before I make you.”Again, it’s like looking into a mirror. Jin Ling slaps a hand to his forehead and lets out an all-too-familiar sigh. “Fine,” he groans, dragging it down his face. “It’s just that… there’s this woman, okay—”“I already know about that. You wrote about her in your letter. I sent you a reply not long ago. Did you not read it?”Jin Ling flushes. “M-Maybe I didn’t wait long enough to receive it.”“Then it seems you don’t know how correspondence is supposed to work." A pause. "A-Ling, are you telling me I wasted my time—”“Yes, and I'm sorry, but I knew you were here though. So I thought, why wait for a letter? Why not talk to you in person? When I came, they told me I’d find you at the Gentian House.” Jin Ling hooks an arm around his waist, urging him to resume walking. “But they said you were busy with Zewu-Jun, so I said I would come back later. I waited, but then…”“But then?”“But then you didn’t come to dinner. I went to your room, but when night fell and you didn’t return… I got worried.”Jiang Cheng bites his tongue. The surge of warmth he feels has nothing to do with body heat, and everything to do with something soft blooming in his chest. After a moment, he gives into temptation and leans a little more heavily on his nephew’s shoulder. He finds their footsteps slowing, and the arm around him tightening fractionally.“Uncle.”“Hm?”“Actually,” The boy ducks his head, clearly avoiding his gaze. Jiang Cheng has no time to question this before he blurts out, “Actually I didn’t wait. I—I went to the Gentian House. I wanted to find you to let you know that I was here, so that you could find me later, but then…”Despite having literally no strength left, Jiang Cheng somehow manages to drag them to a stop again.Jin Ling swallows, glancing to the side. “But then I heard you shouting.”“…”Jin Ling quickly sweeps a glance up at him. He must appear equally as nervous because the boy seems to gain some footing. “You've always taught me to mind my own business, so at first I thought I should leave.”Jiang Cheng scowls. “At first?”“Yes, because if there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s to run in the opposite direction when I hear you shouting. But then, another thing I’ve come to realise is that sometimes, the only way to get the answers you want is to—”“Listen in on other people’s conversations?!” His tone has Fairy whining again and Jin Ling cringing so badly it makes Jiang Cheng want to smack something. “So much for what I taught you.”The boy recovers quickly though, shooting his uncle a surprisingly sharp glare. “So much for that! It's a good thing I listened in, otherwise I’d have been left thinking that you’d actually tried being nice to him. When I heard you were busy with Zewu-Jun, I thought you were doing what we’d discussed! Making friends with him, not… not whatever the hell that was!”Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “How much did you hear?”“Enough.”He swallows thickly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”Jin Ling shakes his head, averting his gaze. “You were shouting,” he says quietly. “Need I say more?”So… is he disappointed, or angry at him? From his expression, it’s impossible to tell. He nudges Jin Ling to resume walking again. If he can get them to his room, hopefully he can cut this conversation short.“I heard enough to agree with Zewu-Jun,” Jin Ling clarifies, eyes darting upwards. “But it isn’t for the reasons that you are thinking. I think that… no, it's true that I don’t have any idea what you’ve ‘been through’, but that’s only because you haven’t told me anything. That’s not why I agree with what he said though, because I don’t want to know what happened to you unless you want me to.”Jiang Cheng trips, his heart thudding fast. I don’t want to know what happened to you unless you want me to. For some reason, he is caught on that sentence, but he has to ask: “Why then?”Jin Ling purses his lips. “Because it isn’t about me wanting to know what happened at all. It doesn’t matter what I want, nor whether I ‘deserve’ to know anything. What matters is exactly what Zewu-Jun said—that there is an opportunity here, and we’d be fools not to make use of it. It might not…” Jin Ling frowns, glaring at his feet, his footsteps faltering. Jiang Cheng has to throw his weight to the side to avoid them slamming into a lantern. Fairy snarls and tries to bite the post. Again Jiang Cheng can’t help thinking that for a spirit dog, she sure is stupid sometimes. He sighs. “It might not what?”“It might not seem like much, but the thing is, anything is better than nothing, and right now? I have nothing. I am nothing. The fact that I am new to leadership is already a problem in itself, but for anyone who is young, untried and untested... it’s so easy to be taken advantage of. It’s bad enough when whatever mistakes you make affect your own life, but for someone in my position…”Jiang Cheng can hear it in his head. For someone in my position, as Sect Leader… The bell chimes softly. A quiet warning that forces him to remain quiet.“There’s so much more at stake. It’s hard enough to do what I have to do already, thanks to whose blood runs in my veins. Thanks to this,” Jin Ling says, pointing at the vermillion mark on his forehead, “Which is as good as an open invitation for others to take their revenge. But… don’t you think that I’ll be at even more of a disadvantage if I’m not made fully aware of the situation?"Even if the mistakes aren’t my own, if the choices I make happen to resemble those of the reviled figures of the past, I’ll be punished for that, won’t I? Just for wearing the same colours, or behaving in a similar manner, or sharing the same name… sometimes that’s all it takes is a single mistake for people to decide what type of character you are, and once a person’s mind is set, it’s near impossible to change.”Jiang Cheng’s breath hitches.Everything Jin Ling has said he has already thought of himself. It’s then that he sees that this whole argument with Lan Xichen was truly pointless because there was never going to come a point where he was going to actually refuse to give Jin Ling what he needs, especially if he is asking for it.Which also means that he is guilty of exactly what Lan Xichen had accused him of: being too overprotective, being too obsessed with his own suffering and too in denial to see that… that Jin Ling might be like him, but he is not him. He is his own person. For all that he keeps seeing him in all he does, and worrying about him with every breath he takes, this is not something he should let himself keep on doing.Because it is doing him no favours, worrying about all that could happen, and not accepting what is beyond his control. It makes no sense to want to keep Jin Ling safe but also want him to succeed, because success in life is a risky venture. If he fails or not is up to him, because he belongs to the house of tomorrow, and his days will stretch out far beyond the point that Jiang Cheng will ever see.Believing that he can stop Jin Ling falling where he has fallen is a ridiculous thought, because the path he takes will be entirely his own. If he keeps trying to remedy things before they happen, treating Jin Ling like that will only serve to shackle him to the same fate. He has to let him go. Somehow, even though it's killing him to imagine it. He wants, he wants, he wants—
(That is the hardest part of raising children. Knowing that you cannot protect them forever.)
There are so many things he wants, but surely as his bell rings, he knows he cannot have them all.Because what matters first and foremost is Jin Ling’s future, not his. And he cannot stand in the way of it. Even if all he wants is to keep him safe. To have him remain a child forever.
Oh.
Now, he gets it.Only now… looking back to that fateful night, when his home was burning, when all he could do was grasp Sandu tightly and try to keep apace with Wei Wuxian. The choices his mother had made and what she did suddenly make sense. Finally, he understands why... even after having felled the enemy stroke after stroke, and ruthlessly clearing a path by virtue of his blade, and having proven himself to her… she still threw him onto the boat and sent him and his brother away.He’d questioned it back then, and many times since—why did she do it? Why, when they could have kept on fighting. When they could have fought by her side. When they could have stayed together.That’s that instinct though, isn’t it? The one that kicks in when you are a parent, when you have a son when you’re raising your a child. These must be the same thoughts that flew through her mind, but where she had but a few minutes to make her choice, Jiang Cheng has had years. Looking at Jin Ling now and listening to him plead his case, the thought strikes him again: he is not the same boy he used to be. He’s grown.And he cannot keep him anymore. Not without losing him in a different way. “I want Zewu-Jun to be the one to teach me though,” Jin Ling announces, cleaving through Jiang Cheng’s thoughts. They are nearing the guest dormitories now, and his muscles are tight and his heart heavy. Jin Ling stops and cranes his head to meet his uncle’s wary gaze. “You’re probably wondering why.”“It should be me,” is what he says automatically, fighting the urge to smack himself for being a hypocrite—or was his entire quarrel with Lan Xichen not on the topic of him not wanting to be the one to explain things to Jin Ling?!“Why should it? Because you’re my uncle?” Jin Ling scoffs. “What rubbish. You shouldn’t feel obligated. Anyone who was there can tell me what happened, so why should it have to be you?”
Because no one wants to remember those days, and since I’m used to not getting what I want, it would make sense for it to be me. It’s always me, but this time I’m okay with that.
For you, Jin Ling. That’s why.
Jiang Cheng squints at Jin Ling, wondering what parts of his shouting he'd heard specifically, and whether it is the reason for this decision.If he’d heard and realised how much he was against teaching him about the past... what if this was his way of trying to spare Jiang Cheng from having to suffer? The thing is though, if there’s one thing Jiang Cheng knows that he’s good at, it’s surviving through hell. He’s done it so many times by now that he’d rather it be him than Lan Xichen. He’d never want it to be Wei Wuxian. He’d even consider taking Lan Wangji’s place should the task fall to him, to spare both him and Jin Ling the stress of having to converse at length.The thing is, he knows he can make it through to the other side in one piece. Unchanged by the trauma, unburnt by the flames. He likes to believe that the reason he survived is because the fire inside him burned brighter than the fire around him. So much so that he's still the same old, crotchety bastard as before. He can’t say the same for the others, for whom—just as the heavens are higher, hell must be a much greater distance to fall. “I don’t know Zewu-Jun that well,” Jin Ling says, once again interrupting his flow. “Which is why I think he’s a good choice. More impartiality.”“I wouldn't say that. After all, there was that one connection between you,” Jiang Cheng points out, gritting his teeth when Jin Ling’s face darkens.“There was, but… he is gone now. And I’ve—I cannot let that person hold me back,” he says, hands curling into fists. “That connection we shared… it doesn’t even matter anymore, because what I need to know from him are the facts, not the personal bits behind everything. I won’t ask him for the details and in exchange, I will trust him to be honest about things.”“Because you don’t trust me?”“It’s not that! It’s because… I might not know him very well, but I—I also think it might help Zewu-Jun to give him the chance to tell me what happened. In his own words.” Earnestly, he adds, “I want to give him that chance, Uncle. I think he deserves it.”Jiang Cheng opens his mouth at that but then snaps it shut, thinking. Either Jin Ling has been listening to a lot of rumours, or he is at least aware of them. The main ones circling Lan Xichen like hungry vultures are claims that he is not of a sound mind anymore, or that he had a bigger role in Jin Guangyao’s plot than he has confessed to. Impaired judgement. Weak-minded. It makes Jiang Cheng’s jaw clench every time he hears someone mutter how shameful it must be for Zewu-Jun to have been fooled for so long and by his sworn brother no less… (No one knows. No one understands what it’s like, but Jiang Cheng does. He knows what it feels like to be misunderstood. Brother-killer. And even if you try telling them otherwise, people will always think what they want to think and blame those they think are guilty. Did you hear? Killed by his own shidi!)“Sizhui tells me he thinks Zewu-Jun believes that others blame him for what shūshu did, but how can he be blamed for something he did not even know he was a part of?” Jin Ling’s eyes glint and he lifts his chin as if to say do you see? With more confidence, he adds: “Apparently he feels guilty by association. I believe though, that by giving him the chance to explain himself, both of us will benefit from the experience."He will soon realise that I don’t hold him accountable, and in exchange, I will get to learn from what he has learnt, which is… well, the man has had a year to think over everything. He probably has a lot to say about it. Even one day of his thinking is probably worth a year of mine, don’t you think?”Jiang Cheng snorts. “Try five.” He has to applaud him though. He can do nothing here but accept his own defeat. Outside he sighs, but inside he is grinning fiercely. Well played, A-Ling, he thinks. Very well done, indeed. "It should be me," he can't resist muttering again, just to let Jin Ling know his offer still stands.Jin Ling’s nose scrunches up. "Well, I disagree." Then he twists his sleeve, grinding his toe in the dirt. “Uncle, I… I also want to give you that chance as well. To talk things through with me someday, and maybe explain your side of things. Only if you want to though. No judgement, no rush. Just… whenever you’re ready,” he says, pursing his lips. “Even if that is never.”
Your story deserves to be told, Jiang Wanyin.
…Never sounds good to him. “So be it,” he declares with a nod. “In that case, I leave it up to you to decide how to go about this.”“You’re okay with it?”“It’s not like you need my permission,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. They stand there for a moment, both contemplating this and each other. Something has changed just now. He hopes Jin Ling understands what he’s trying to do. This is the first step of him letting him go: with him stepping back (for once) and (verbally) acknowledging that he can no longer tell him what to do. Unfortunately, the expression Jin Ling makes changes too quickly for him to read, and so—Jiang Cheng stops searching for approval, holds his breath and closes his eyes… (And he pictures a tall, shadowy figure in front of him. A man dressed in gold. His hair scraped to the top of his head in a ponytail, flowing freely about his shoulders. That vermillion mark may eventually wrinkle with time, but it is centred above eyes that pierce through the veil of darkness, and… the rest of him may change throughout the years, but not those eyes. Those eyes, which he got from his mother.No matter how much time may change him, no matter how life may distort him beyond recognition, those eyes will stay the same.As will his smile. As will the heart of him, Jiang Cheng hopes.)“Come with me,” he says suddenly, marching towards his room. Leaving the door ajar for Jin Ling to close, he goes straight to the desk and takes out a brush. Ink and stone. A leaf of paper. A cup of water. Fairy snuffles at the edge of the desk, but she scampers away under the threat of his disapproving glare.Jin Ling hesitates at the doorway. “If this is about what I came to talk to you about, I told you it can wait—”“Shut up.”It’s almost a repeat of a couple of nights ago with him writing by the light of the moon, the only difference being the sound of Fairy’s wet panting and her tail thwacking happily into the table leg. He keeps the letter simple. A straightforward apology for his behaviour, acknowledgement of his mistakes, an offer to make amends. Addressed to Sect Leader Lan, signed by Sect Leader Jiang. It's a step backwards for sure, and he knows it. The thought makes him feel… heavy. Cold. But it has to be this way.How else can he write to him but in this manner? Can he really call himself a friend of Lan Xichen’s anymore, after how he treated him? It’ll be up to him to decide what they are, whether that be friends, allies, or acquaintances. His fingers are stiff and it shows in his writing. Nothing like the beautiful, flowing script of previous letters. Nothing Lan Xichen will praise him for. “Here,” he says, handing him the note. “Give this to Zewu-Jun in the morning.” When Jin Ling accepts it, the bell chimes. Ignoring this, he adds, “I don’t expect a reply, so don’t—don’t hang around. Just give it to him and then leave him be.”Jin Ling’s frown deepens. “Okay… but only if you promise to talk to him about this properly before you go back.” He tucks the paper into his sleeve and levels Jiang Cheng with a look. “You’d better not leave this until the wedding, Uncle, or so help me I'll…”“You’ll what?”“I’ll… I’ll… ugh, I don’t know! Does it matter what I'll do? Won’t it be awkward enough for you to have to face him during that type of… of the ceremony, with this hanging over your head? Wouldn’t it be better to—”“What did I tell you? Always follow through with threats, or don’t bother saying them at all."“—sort it out before then? You always tell me I should—”"I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, Jin Ling.”"—be proactive with maintaining relations—"“I said goodnight, A-Ling.”Jin Ling huffs, but bows. “Goodnight, Uncle.”He watches his ponytail swing out of view, eyes following the movement and listening to his footsteps fall away. Fairy wuffles, licks a wet stripe up his wrist, and then scurries after her master. Jiang Cheng remains seated at the desk, bathed in silvery moonlight.It is quiet again. Even as he flicks the bell, there is not a sound. It makes no sense considering how he feels right now. A writhing tangle of nostalgia, sorrow, yearning. All of this combined in one brief flash of intense regret. But then, ah… none of this is resentment though. Even the pounding of his heart is simply anger at himself for making a fool of himself in front of Jin Ling. For relying on him, when it should be the other way around—
(Uncle, I also want to offer you that chance as well. To talk things through… only if you want to though. No judgement… whenever you’re ready. Even if that is never.)
For being heartless. For losing his temper with Lan Xichen—(Tell me, is your mind really so steady and your conscience so clear, that you can see through every deception? Take a look at your past and tell me, does it not hurt you still? )—who had only been trying to help him.Surely the bitterness of all of this self-hatred is similar to resentment, but… it is almost with a sense of detachment, that he regrets. As if he is suspended like scales in a state between caring and not-caring.What does it matter what he thinks anymore? What does it matter how he feels? This lack of feeling is nothing he is not used to and is, therefore, nothing his bell deems worth pointing out. With the only danger he feels being the threat of a future that looms before him (bleak, desolate, empty)… it still doesn’t make a sound, because the dread it brings is no stranger to him either.(In denying yourself, you do but store the desire in the recesses of your being. And who knows but that which was omitted today, simply waits for tomorrow? Must he always wait for tomorrow though? What if there is no tomorrow for him? What then?)Jiang Cheng ponders this for a moment, but then throws himself into that state of not-caring again that allows him to remain distant from the world. Like this, he can almost convince himself that he can go on forever, and that whatever happens... nothing he does really matters. Even his mistakes will eventually be forgotten to time, because what is he but a footnote on the pages of everyone else’s story? (The thing is, it’s how it goes with life that the more you insist on not wanting something, the more you want it. The more he pretends he doesn’t mind not being needed, the more he wishes that he was. And so… if his pleasure is a freedom-song, what else can his sorrow be but a silent cage? As if to answer him, thus the night stands still.) Things happened so quickly, that now (as he rushes around the Cloud Recesses like a headless chicken) his mind really does feel like it’s fallen some ways behind. Only a couple hours after they’d returned to the jingshi, they’d heard a knock at the window. Before Lan Zhan could answer, the broken door was carefully picked apart to reveal Wen Ning, whose sudden appearance had shocked them both. When he gave his report of having found nothing of the old man yet, it brought with it both relief and suspicion, because on the one hand—sometimes no news is good news, but in this case? Probably not.In spite of the lack of news, Lan Zhan was clearly relieved to know that Wen Ning had been patrolling the area. From that, they assumed that Sizhui’s request for him to guard the Cloud Recesses had been accepted. But then Wen Ning confirmed for himself, that he was willing to keep an eye on things.Which was when they decided that with him around, they could leave on the mission and rest reassured that in doing so, they weren’t abandoning the children (or Lan Xichen).And so it was agreed that they'd leave early tomorrow morning. If they’re lucky, the journey to the Unclean Realm will take no more than a day, but that’s with good weather conditions, full reserves of spiritual energy, and no breaks taken in between. If they want to do this and arrive at a respectable hour though, they will have to set off before sunrise to reach the Qinghe Nie by sunset. (Before sunrise. Wei Ying whimpers at the thought, but alas.)As soon as the three of them had agreed on the plan, he and Lan Zhan split up to deal with the relevant tasks—Lan Zhan, to inform his brother and uncle about their departure, and Wei Ying, to… to find Sizhui. To make things right again between them before they leave.It’s been three hours now, of him nearly tearing the Cloud Recesses apart trying to find their son. He’s already run into six disciples, but only waved them off when they offered to help, asking them instead: have you seen your shixiong? Do you have any idea where he might be? but he is like a ghost: nowhere to be found.Though it makes him cringe to think what his son’s reaction might be to seeing him again, it would be made even more awkward with an audience—oh, but what if that’s why it’s been so difficult to find him? What if Sizhui has heard that his father is looking for him and is avoiding him for this reason. If that’s the case, then… then what the fuck is he supposed to do?The Cloud Recesses is where Sizhui grew up and it’s huge. He must know all the best places to hide. Exactly how is he supposed to know how to find him?!He whirls around at the sound of footsteps, pulse skipping for a moment—then calming instantly. “Lan Zhan,” he calls breathlessly, running to meet him. His husband catches him by the elbows and frowns at—ah. Wei Ying flaps his hand, shooting him a smile in between gasping breaths. “I’ve just been running. Around,” he pants. “A lot.”“And?”His smile vanishes.“Ah.” Lan Zhan caresses his cheek. “Don’t worry.”“Did you get to speak to your brother then?” he says, swiftly diverting the conversation. “And your uncle, how did that go?”Lan Zhan shrugs. Even though it’s not as though they are keeping anything secret (at least from those within the Cloud Recesses), they’ve also chosen not to talk too loudly about what they’re doing either, just to err on the side of caution. Lan Zhan told him that whilst there was nothing Lan Qiren could do to stop them, he could Disapprove Very Strongly, and probably pressure Lan Xichen into forcing them to stay.For now, the purpose of their visit to the Nie Sect is officially (to Wei Ying’s endless amusement) to personally invite Sect Leader Nie to their wedding. “Like that, huh.”“Mm.” Lan Zhan takes his hand and slowly guides them towards a bench. Oh, thank god. He very nearly collapses onto it, but Lan Zhan is there quite suddenly, cushioning his fall. Nice. His legs, though firmly muscled, are far more comfortable than bare stone. Very nice.“Wei Ying,” he says, dragging his attention away from his lovely, lovely legs. “Jingyi was there.”Wei Ying pauses. “At the hanshi, you mean?”Nodding, “With Brother.” “And what did he say?” How was he? he wants to ask, because if Jingyi is still angry at them… well, that won’t actually tell them much. That boy’s fuse is much, much shorter than Sizhui’s, and when he’s unhappy, he’ll let you know about it. Sizhui’s anger, on the other hand, is not quite a slow-burn, but certainly a lot more gradual. Simmering, but also devastating when it strikes. When he loses it… he actually resembles his aunt, Wen Qing, rather strongly. (By which, Wei Ying means to say that during those times, he is terrifying to be around. May the good, honourable Maiden Wen rest in peace, for her nephew is making her proud—scaring the fucking daylights out of his poor Xian-gege when he teases him too much.)“Not a lot,” Lan Zhan says. “I apologised, and he… accepted.”“Ah.” If that’s all there was: an apology and acceptance, then that says a lot about how things went, which is to say that Lan Jingyi is probably still very much not happy with them. “Hang on,” he says, the thought struck him rather belatedly. “A-Yuan wasn’t there?” Blame his tired brain, but usually, when someone mentions either Sizhui or Jingyi, they mean both of them because they come as a package deal. Lan Zhan shakes his head. “He told me A-Yuan sent him to eat dinner with Brother, but… he needed some time alone.”“Oh.”“Jingyi had his guqin too.”“Oh.” That’s strange. According to Lan Zhan, Sizhui loves his guqin so much that he used to carry it with him everywhere. For him to leave it with Jingyi—actually, scratch that, for him to leave Jingyi, is a big red flag even before the guqin thing. “Wait, why would A-Yuan send Jingyi there?”“Comfort.”…well fuuuck. They’ve really messed up, haven’t they? For the Mini Twin Jades to be seeking out comfort or solitude, and for them to have gone separate ways to find it? Not good. (Very not good.)At least Jingyi sought comfort from Lan Xichen, but just the thought of Sizhui being somewhere all alone… makes his stomach clench. But what is the point of looking for him now? If he’s been searching for three hours, to no avail—“Come on,” he says, standing abruptly. The skies have darkened, the sun is a golden coin barely visible above the mountains to the west. “It’s getting late. We should go pack.”What a feeble excuse. When have they ever needed to pack anything before leaving? Travelling as they do, they have no need for more than the clothes on their backs, their swords, instruments, and Little Apple (if he’s willing).Still, Lan Zhan allows Wei Ying to drag them back to the jingshi. The truth is that even if they plan to sleep early to be able to set off at dawn, no amount of extra sleep will prepare Wei Ying for waking up that early, but Lan Zhan lives in eternal hope. ‘Early to bed, early to rise’ is something he hopes his husband will pick up eventually, though he has yet to see any progress—Oh.They’d left (what was left of) the door propped up, but it’s on the floor now. There is movement behind the silk screen ahead. A shadow shivers and then falls still.Lan Zhan immediately springs in front of him, but… surely this deep into the Cloud Recesses, it can’t be—oh, but there was that intruder. Wei Ying follows at his heels, lifting Chenqing to his lips as he draws a deep breath—only for Lan Zhan to stop him. Lan Zhan reaches behind to gently push his arm down. He shoots him a surprisingly amused look, then strides past the screen. When he passes it himself… ah. There’s a sight for sore eyes: A-Yuan, curled up at the foot of their bed. Wei Ying immediately rushes over and stops a couple of steps away, hands fluttering from place to place. From Chengqing to his mouth, to Lan Zhan’s arm, to the back of his head—“Have you been here all this time?!” he finally demands, deciding on throwing his hands in the air. Sizhui glances at him, but then his gaze skitters to the side. He closes the distance between them in one leap, dropping to his knees in front of his son. “A-Yuan? What is it? What’s wrong?”The boy’s face crumples the moment Lan Zhan joins them, kneeling to be with his family. “I can’t do it,” he says, lips trembling when Wei Ying takes his hands in his. “Why can’t I do it? I told you I could, but I can’t. I tried so hard. I’m sorry—”“Hey, hey, hey, slow down.” Squeezing his fingers gently, Wei Ying cannot for the life of him understand what Sizhui is trying to say, and so he asks, “Do what? Try what? What are you talking about?”“Remain calm,” Lan Zhan answers, causing him to freeze as their previous conversation (argument) with Sizhui comes flying back to him—
(It's more important to have the people around him remain as calm as possible.
Very well. If that's what you require of me, then that's what I'll do.)
“Oh… A-Yuan,” he sighs. “Don’t tell me you… what did you do?”“First, I tried playing some music to calm myself down.” That explains the guqin then. “Then I… I went on a long walk. Then I did some training. Then I tried meditating… ”Lan Zhan inhales sharply.“But none of it worked,” he says, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I'm still a mess, and I don’t understand how you did it.”The two share a worried glance, but Wei Ying speaks for them. “Did what?”“The war,” Sizhui breathes. “All those losses. Everything you had to do. It was so much more than this, and yet you… you got through it in the end.” He latches onto Lan Zhan’s hand, turning to him with eyes begging for an answer. “How did you do it? One person and I cannot cope.” Lan Zhan’s stares for a long moment, then tugs Sizhui into his side.Watching them, Wei Ying cannot help but notice that brief hesitation. Sizhui doesn’t seem to mind it though, squeezing himself under his arm with a shuddering sigh. Lan Zhan rarely falters around him anymore, and most of the time he’s just as comfortable around Sizhui, but from time to time something will happen that will for whatever reason, make him doubt his welcome. He will retreat into the skin of his adolescent self and shut himself off from others (save for his husband and son) to hide this weakness.It saddens him to think of the reasons for this. He’s always wondered whether his husband’s issue with personal space and physical contact was a product of the Lan Sect rules, or simply a quirk of his, or whether they came as a result of being forced to keep at a distance from his parents. Maybe it is all of these things, but if so, then that means that…Suddenly it hits him then, exactly what that means.Because for Sizhui to be like he is: comfortable with people and easygoing… they’ve said so before that he is like his uncles, but who was the uncle who raised him for the longest time? Lan Xichen. Only now does Wei Ying realise the implications of what that means. He can only assume that where Lan Zhan lacked the ability to, whether that be due to his grief or his injuries, Lan Xichen would have had to step in. Where Lan Zhan may have struggled to be (openly) affectionate with them (though he’s much better with that now), Lan Xichen will have provided the boys with a vital softness that they would have needed.Which was why… which was probably why Jingyi went to him for comfort.But not Sizhui, because he had been given orders, to—
Remain calm.
Oh god. How could he have asked that of Sizhui? Remain calm, though your uncle is suffering. Remain calm, whilst we sit here, twiddling our thumbs.The thing is, it’s likely Sizhui doesn’t understand why he’s finding it so difficult to cope, or why the threat of losing his uncle is hurting him so badly. Because it’s easy to forget that there is a difference of almost two years[1] between him and his friends, and that that difference might be what has allowed him to grasp (a little bit better) the magnitude of what was stolen from him at the time when it had been taken. Though both Jingyi and Jin Ling have lost their parents too, they had been babies when that happened. Of course, they had grieved, of course, they still felt their loss, but for A-Yuan?He’d been a toddler when everything happened. Able to speak and walk and, to some extent, understand. He had lived to see his entire family slaughtered right in front of him—Not that anyone knows what Wen Yuan saw that day. What he’d seen, hidden in that hollow tree, remains a mystery to this day. No one can even explain how he’d survived. And yet he says to them: I don’t understand how you did it and expects to receive an answer better than that which lives on through him. The very fact that he exists is proof that he is strong enough. Is he even aware of how many people he’s lost, or does that knowledge remain buried somewhere inside him?Wei Ying leans over to join in the hug. In his mind, their arms are strong enough to hold Sizhui together. To shelter and protect him from everything, at least here, in this moment.“We got through it because we had to.”Two heads turn towards Lan Zhan, and he meets their eyes steadily, fingers combing through a blend of two shades of black. Sizhui leans into the caress, hanging onto his father’s voice, desperately waiting to hear what wisdom he has to impart.“We had no choice,” he says. “War is war. You do what you must to survive. This is different, but no less difficult for it.”Wei Ying smiles up at his husband, whose eyes sparkle back at him. He cups the other side of Sizhui’s face, pressing their cheeks together and remembering it rounder, smaller, and softer. “A-Yuan,” he says. “I want us to stay here. I want to hold you for all my days, my little radish… but we have a job to do. One we told you about. And there’s no easy way to say this, but—”“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Sizhui peels himself off Wei Ying’s shoulder slowly. “Leaving?”“We told you we’re working on something. To do that, we need to go to the Nie Sect for consultation.”“About qi deviation,” the boy mumbles, stuffing his face back under Wei Ying’s jaw. “So much for what you said.”There is no cure. Wei Ying winces, remembering his husband’s deadpan delivery. He runs a soothing hand over Sizhui’s shoulder. “We’ll be back soon,” he promises, kissing the top of his bowed head. “After we’ve got some answers, but in the meantime—”“CanIstayhere?”He blinks. “Pardon?”Sizhui’s cheeks redden, the blush spreading over his nose as well. Eyes darting between his parents, he stammers: “Can I… can I sleep here, w-whilst you’re away?”At this, Wei Ying’s heart completely melts.“Can you—why do you even need to ask?” he cries, hauling Sizhui into his lap completely to be able to properly smother him in love. Who cares if he cannot breathe with the weight of a teenage boy crushing his body? What is air, when he has this? “Are you not our son?” he demands. “Are our belongings not your belongings? Is it even a question? What sort of nonsense—”“Okay okay okay!”“Of course you can stay here!”“Jingyi too,” Lan Zhan adds, patting Sizhui’s flailing arm. “If he wants to.”“Th…Thank you?”“In the meantime,” Wei Ying says, releasing the boy just enough so he can breathe. “Forget what I said. I mean—remain calm? Who am I to tell you how to behave? Really A-Yuan, by now you should know better than to listen to everything I say. That’s just asking for trouble. Isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?”“En.”“You should have seen me just now, running around the place like a headless chicken—”“Twice.”“Yes, yes. But twice, and no more,” he babbles, wafting away his husband’s stern look. Twice means what, three weeks of copying? No sweat. “See what I mean though? It’s okay to be a mess sometimes. It’s normal. Just take me for example. Am I not a mess, and yet doing okay? Your opinion, Lan Zhan?”Nodding firmly, “A mess.”“…”“…but doing okay.”Well, that was kind of rude.“See?” he grits out, grinning a little when he hears Sizhui muffling a snort. “If I’m a mess but still doing okay, that means you can be a mess too. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed by life sometimes. Just know that you aren’t alone in feeling that way, and take comfort in that, alright?” Finally, Sizhui’s body slackens slightly, his posture relaxing. It’s as good an answer as any. He’s going to take it as a solid yes. Wei Ying inwardly laughs, and outwardly coos, brushing Sizhui’s fringe off his forehead.“Also, if you ever find yourself panicking again, I want you to find someone to stay with you until it passes, okay? Don’t hide away when you’re like this. You had us worried.”“Sorry,” he mumbles.He grins at the boy fondly, heart swelling at the dusty memories of a muddy child clinging onto his legs and crying at literally everything. He’s grown, he thinks, but he is still here, in the shelter of his parents’ arms. In his red cheeks and glassy eyes and hopeful, loving heart. Wei Ying suddenly finds himself hit by a heady wave of bittersweet longing. It isn’t something he has thought of before, but only because he hadn’t had the chance to.Between dying and coming back, and everything that followed… it is a miracle that the three of them are here together again, and that Sizhui remembers him. Had life not gone the way it had, Wei Ying imagines for a split moment… a simple, happy life with his husband and son. Roaming the lands carefree, as rogue cultivators. No restrictions, no duties to confine them. Just each other and the road ahead. It could have been nice, he thinks, to have lived that life. Was that not the life he’d been born into? His mother and father, free as two birds in the sky. He can barely remember them, but he knows that they hadn’t chosen a dangerous life simply for the thrill of it, but because they believed that so long as they had family, they didn't need anything else. The thought of going wherever the wind blows is wonderfully romantic. He can see the attraction to a life like that, but… But his family would not survive that kind of life.No, they are tied to this land—to the mountain, to the mists. They are bound to their duties, and live by their honour, and swear by the rules. Still… he is not so blind as to deny that this is a wonderful life too, and that he is very lucky to be able to come and go from this place he now calls home—
(I tried everything, but it will never be the same. I miss home, but I miss it, even more, when I am there.)
Oh god, Jiang Cheng. How could he forget—but they’re leaving tomorrow. There’s no time to find him now, this late in the evening. To leave each other like that, after that awful conversation. It will have to wait until they return, but… but will Jiang Cheng even want to talk to him about that? Probably not. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to either, but he feels like he should. Not once in all the years they have known each other, have they really sat down and cleared the air between them, and it’s clearly left its mark on their relationship. Because no matter how well they’re doing now, to try and build anything substantial without confronting the past would be like trying to bandage a wound without first cleaning out the infection. There are so many lines drawn between them, marking what topics are safe and what should be avoided, that the sheer number has become the kindling to the fire of Jiang Cheng’s rage.Wei Ying fears this is what has caused the rift between them to grow—that due to their hesitance to tackle this before it could grow they let it fester for so long, and now the foundations of their relationship are rotten. He wonders, even now, where it all began. Was it from the moment he stepped foot in Lotus Pier? Was it when Jiang Cheng’s dogs were sent away? Maybe it began long before he was even in the picture, before Jiang Cheng was born—but if he believes that, then he must accept that they were doomed from the start. All Wei Ying knows is that messy is the perfect word to describe him and his brother.And yet theirs is a bond that runs so deep that… although messy, it is also impossibly precious to him. Because he cannot imagine ever being indifferent to Jiang Cheng’s suffering. Remain calm? Pssh! After all—that is the very reason at the heart of how the Yiling Patriarch came to be. Driven to the edge by their losses, spurred by Jiang Cheng’s descent into madness, what else could he do but follow his brother? Let the fires of hate consume him too, let him know nothing but his own anger. The resentment that filled him was mostly his, but also… it had come from Jiang Cheng’s screaming and sobbing and begging.Even later on, when other losses were collected and added to the Yiling Patriarch’s rage, what kept Wei Ying in a constant state of misery was the memory of his beloved shidi wailing till his throat was raw. I want my A-Die and A-Niang! Even as the rift between them eventually grew into a chasm, he could still hear his voice echoing across the void.It’s as the saying goes, that the lotus root may be severed, but its fibered threads are still connected.Thus it goes that his and Jiang Cheng’s lives will forever be intertwined, despite each of them having tried to cut ties again and again, to spare themselves the burdens of their shared past. He knows in his heart, as surely as he always used to know where he’d find Jiang Cheng (always on his left, keeping his blindspot covered), that they will always be brothers.As such, it is his duty to help his brother find a home, even if that is to be found somewhere other than Lotus Pier. He swears he will find him a place to belong. A bed to rest his weary soul. A place to be happy again.Even if he cannot be that home or the reason for him being happy. Wei Ying clutches onto his son and swears on everything good in his life, that he will search the whole world if necessary to find a place where Jiang Cheng can live a life with no regrets.“One person or a thousand.”Wei Ying turns to find Lan Zhan looking at him. It’s then that he realises their son has fallen asleep, and so he helps his husband tip him ever-so-slowly backwards onto the bed. It almost makes him laugh how they literally drag him across the mattress without him waking... but then the odd statement sticks out in his mind, and he shoots his husband a questioning look.“It doesn’t matter,” Lan Zhan explains quietly, tugging the blanket over Sizhui, “Whether it is one person or a thousand. It is difficult coping with any loss, regardless of the number.”Under their hands, Sizhui twists around. Sleepy, swollen eyes blink open briefly, lips curving in a smile. Lan Zhan hums, inhaling deeply through his nose to breath out The Lullaby in song, stroking Sizhui’s hair till his eyes slide shut again. Wei Ying stares, and finds himself wondering: how is he supposed to sleep like this? There is an age-old guilt he feels, that this is not where he should be—that this is not the life he deserves.As a boy, receiving all the attention Jiang Cheng didn't get. As someone who got a second chance at life, thanks to a young man's sacrifice.He is the son of a servant, the reviled murderer of thousands, the man who left a path gilded in golden promise for a narrow plank drenched in blood. He is the man who rejected every offer given him and left his heart to rot within his coreless body, for thirteen long years. He broke his promise, he betrayed his brother, he abandoned his sect. How did he get to be here? Really, how is it that he gets to have this? How did he get so lucky? He would question it more if he dared to, but instead, in answer to the original question: how is he supposed to sleep, with such burdens crowding his heart? Easy, he decides. I'll just let go, in: three… two… One. If anyone dares tell him off for this, in his defence—it was not his idea. He'll point a finger at Zewu-Jun and say that he (yes he, the great Zewu-Jun himself) was the one who told him to go ahead and eat both bowls. Anyway, it’s within the three-bowl-limit, so technically he's safe.Shovelling another lump of cold rice into his face, Jingyi swallows loudly, and it sinks like lead. He sneaks another glance at the sullen man beside him for the hundredth time.In his defence, he’d protested not only twice, but thrice. Sometimes though, there are days where the man simply has absolutely no appetite.It’s not like I’m doing anything strenuous, he’s argued before, stubbornly lying flat on the bed whenever someone tried to get him to eat. This time he said nothing at all, but waved at Jingyi instead. Unfortunately, it was a gesture he used so often that he knew what it meant. Eat mine too. Don’t let it go to waste.But he’d come here for the company anyways. Even though it’s pretty awkward to be munching his way through two meals whilst Zewu-Jun stares dully at his hands, Jingyi reminds himself: he came here not only for him, but for both of them.When Sizhui muttered that he’d like to be alone, it had been like a slap to the face. As Jingyi had watched him go, he’d had to consciously remain where he stood. He’d had to root his feet firmly to the ground, though his heart lurched outwards after Sizhui. Wen Ning had stayed with him until his breathing steadied and then told him to go rest after handing him Sizhui’s guqin. He’d had to repeat his instruction when Jingyi asked for it again.So now he’s here, and the guqin rests, and Zewu-Jun sits, and he eats for both of them.But he isn’t Zewu-Jun here. When it’s just the two of them, Zewu-Jun becomes bobo[2], and he becomes A-Yi, and things like talking with his mouth full (or eating two bowls of food) are kindly overlooked.It’s the reason why Jingyi came here: to be with someone who actually wants him around—only, looking at him now... he wonders if he should maybe reassess whether he is welcome here. This is the second time now that his bobo has acted like this when he’s come to visit. It makes him feel distinctly unwelcome, which Jingyi doesn’t know how to take, given that this is the man who would always laugh it off whenever Jingyi accidentally did something to break a rule, sincerely encouraging him to be himself, with tenderness and affection.He pauses here. Maybe it’s time for that same tenderness to be paid back. With this in mind, JingYi swallows his apprehension and gentles his voice accordingly. “Bobo?” Lan Xichen tilts his head, eyes sliding over to him. Ah, good. At least he’s responsive. Jingyi crawls over to sit closer to him, and the closer he gets, the more his uncle’s eyes soften. “What’s wrong, A-Yi?”Jingyi wishes there was a way to hold up a mirror and reflect the question back at him without actually asking it, because asking what's wrong always implies that something is wrong, and he doesn't want to imagine that there is anything wrong with his uncle. He bites his lip, uncertain of what he should say. To bide his time, he pours them both more tea and slowly sips at the lukewarm drink whilst pondering the situation.Could it be Senior Jiang that caused Lan Xichen to become like this again? If so, then Jingyi really doesn’t know what to do, because... well, because how does one deal with someone like Senior Jiang? Even in his calmest moments, he’s still a force of nature, which makes him shudder to imagine what he might be like when he's angry—Wait, but he’s seen him angry. He doesn’t need to imagine that. He already knows.It’s not often when his imagination pales compared to reality, because according to Sizhui, his imagination is truly something else. But in this instance… Senior Jiang’s temper is something one cannot describe in words. The few times he’s been unlucky enough to witness it firsthand, Jingyi has genuinely feared for his life. And he wasn’t even the one Senior Jiang was angry with.“Is it A-Yuan?” Lan Xichen asks calmly. He reaches over to rest a hand on Jingyi’s arm, and just like that—Jingyi’s lip quivers, and he suddenly remembers, Sizhui.“How did you know?”Lan Xichen laughs lightly. “I know because you only ever come to me like this after both of you have had a disagreement.”“But we haven’t,” Jingyi protests too quickly, cringing at his mistake.The eyes that behold him are like hands cupping his face, the smile he's given a reminder that this man has known him all his life. Lan Xichen hums but seems content to let it go. “The two of you have been working very hard lately,” he says instead, dipping his head in a short bow. “I am proud of you and most grateful for your support.”The formality takes Jingyi by surprise. Thrown by it, he flaps his hand. “No, no,” he babbles, “We’re glad to help. No thanks are needed. All we want is—” For you to get better.Ah.He manages to cut himself off before he can say anything, but it’s like Lan Xichen has already heard it. His peaceful smile carves deeper lines, and Jingyi gets the feeling that this was what he’d been trying to coax out of him. How sneaky of him. Using praise as a way to catch him off-guard. If it's you, we will always worry.He waits, tense everywhere but the arm which Lan Xichen continues to hold. For a few seemingly endless seconds no one speaks, and the silence is heavy and thick. It makes him want to squirm, feeling the same way he did that one time when he broke his arm from doing handstands for too long and told no one about it until the pain grew too much. By then his arm was swollen and purple. He’d got a proper scolding from Lan Xichen for that, and a lot of tears had been shed afterwards.Don’t you ever lie to me again, A-Yi, he’d ordered, I want you to come to me straight away if you’re hurt, understand? Forget the rules. You matter more.“When Wangji and I were young,” Lan Xichen says, idly stroking that same arm that broke, “When we’d go to visit our parents, we would bring them sweets to encourage them to eat because their appetites weren’t very good. Cakes were Mother’s favourite, but Father loved fresh-cut fruits best.”Jingyi stares. He has no idea where this is going, but he’s willing to listen. After all, Lan Xichen rarely talks about Madame Lan and Qingheng-Jun. He must have a reason for doing so.“Mother would tell us to eat for her though, saying that it would make her happier to see them eaten by us. Father was the same,” he chuckles, “Only taking a bite or two, and then leaving the rest to us. We were so young back then. We didn’t know any better, but what we did know was that nourishment was essential for the body, and that good food could make a person very happy."Happiness was something we wanted to give back to our parents.” He smiles at Jingyi then. “We came to realise that even though they would not eat, that did not mean it was a complete waste, because we could see that what they said was true—that they were truly happy, simply from knowing that we had thought of them.”There is something he is trying to say here, but… Jingyi cannot unravel his meaning. His first thought is that this reminds him of the Qingming Festival.From what Lan Xichen has described, though their intentions had obviously been different, their actions carried the same feeling of bringing gifts to a grave, leaving offerings of favourite foods, and then eating them for the departed. How strange. Being told this makes Jingyi want to… to share his thoughts, because this uncle has always encouraged him to speak his mind. “Qingming,” he blurts out. Lan Xichen tilts his head. “That sounds a lot like what we do for the Qingming Festival.”“I suppose it does.” He doesn’t look too upset, so with a deep breath Jingyi continues. “That isn’t so bad then,” he says, “Because bringing loved ones their favourite food is nice, you know? Like how I bring A-Niang plums and go all the way to Caiyi market to get A-Die his favourite chicken wings,” he says, grinning. “It must make them happy every year—actually, three times a year!”For some reason, Lan Xichen’s smile dims. “It must,” he agrees, voice trailing off.Since he has no idea what could have caused this change, Jingyi rewinds through each part of their conversation. Going from what was said about Lan Xichen’s parents to what he’d said about his own, he combs through every word.He’s starting to wonder whether this whole thing was meant to be in reference to Jingyi bringing Lan Xichen his dinner and eating it for him, only it’s gone off on a completely different tangent. He wonders where exactly the lines are being drawn here, and where he overstepped to upset Lan Xichen like this—“A-Yi, do you blame me?”Jingyi blinks. “Blame you?”“For telling you about your parents,” he clarifies. “For giving you things to miss about them when you could have lived a life without the burden of knowing what you have lost.”He really doesn’t see it as a burden though…“The thing is, I barely knew them, Jingyi. Not nearly as well as I know you,” Lan Xichen says, releasing his arm, which he tucks it against his chest. “Everything I have told you about them has either been assumed, overheard, or completely made up. I didn’t know their favourite foods, I didn’t know how they fell in love, I didn’t know the reason why they named you Jingyi.”
(They said that as a baby, you would look at the world around you with such big eyes. They told me it was because you seemed enamoured by everything you saw!)
Lan Xichen’s gaze bores into him. “I lied to you. Does that not make you angry?”Does it? Jingyi asks himself, finding the question more baffling than anything else Lan Xichen has confessed.The fact that everything he knows about his parents is a lie… should probably make him angry. Had it been literally anyone else but this Uncle who had told him so, he probably would be, but he... for some reason, he cannot find it in himself to hate him for telling him these lies, even if it means that his parents must have been completely different people to what he has described. Because he would have loved them regardless of what they had been like. Because even if Lan Xichen had described them from actual firsthand knowledge, his accounts still wouldn’t have captured the people they were any better. Because no matter how carefully words are chosen, they cannot account for all that makes a person.They lack the capacity to build flesh and bone or embody the essence of the soul housed within. Every telling of a story will either elevate its characters or demonise them to become heroes or villains… so, does it surprise him to be told that his parents weren’t actually the heroes he’d been told they were? No. Does it anger him? “Why did you lie to me?” he asks instead of answering, puzzled by this more than anything. Lan Xichen doesn’t reply at first, but eventually, he sighs.“I couldn’t bear to see you cry anymore,” he confesses softly. “But don’t mistake that for me being merciful. I also couldn’t stand having you look at me, just like you are doing right now. You trust in me too much, A-Yi, when I don't deserve it. I did it because I wanted to be worthy of that trust, which in the end makes little sense at all.” Raising his head a little, and his voice, “I’m telling you because I should have told you a long time ago, and now you can judge me as you see fit.”“Do you regret it?”“Lying to you? I…” frowning, “It was a mistake, Jingyi. A moment of weakness. I was impulsive and selfish. I should have considered—”“Do you regret it?” Jingyi repeats. “Because I don’t think I do."He finds himself staring into liquid amber eyes, widened in disbelief. It's there where he finds his voice. "No,” he hears himself say, “Why would I be angry? I was a dumb kid who needed something, and you… you saw that, and gave me what I needed. Even if none of it was real, what does it matter? If reality is nothing more than what we believe, what is the difference between this world and a dream? At least you gave me something beautiful to believe in.”The stories this Uncle has told him… as a teenager now, he knows that none of it could have been real. The sweetness of a courtly love, the vibrancy of two lovers’ whose devotion rewarded them the perfect child, death from a broken heart. It was all the same sappy, crappy stuff he and Ouyang Zizhen (and Sizhui, though he’ll deny it) fawned over all the time, only this time it was different. Because it had never been about what he was told, but the fact that he’d been told about them at all.That his Uncle gave him voices to imagine, and painted faces for him to see, and made himself the conduit for all the love that his parents couldn’t give to him and could not be given back in return… it meant something to him. It still does.“Who would bother spending so much time making up such a grand story without a little part of them believing in it too? If there are others who were close with my parents, well—where are they now? Where were they then? Where have they been all my life? If there are any, they certainly haven’t bothered trying to tell me about them, and yet you have.”Since he is from one of many branches of the family tree, he has Lan blood in his veins, but not enough would have earned him the same privileges of those in the main house. Jingyi knows that the one truth that the rest of his parents’ story is built on is the fact that his mother died protecting Qingheng-Jun. But if the kindness he’s received from the Lan heirs since then is borne out of any guilt, then… then so be it.He’ll take it. He doesn’t care if he's being pitied if it means he gets to have them in his life. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think my parents would be angry with you either."Lan Xichen’s face turns deathly pale. Jingyi cannot tell whether he is shocked, or dismayed, or both.
“Because lie or not, it meant something to me that there was someone who cared enough to talk about them with me. That that person has not only comforted me but also cared for me thereafter…” He takes Lan Xichen’s hand then, or rather wraps his hand around two of his fingers, just like he did when he was young. “This is the part where you tell me that lying is bad. Even lying to a child who doesn’t know any better.
“Here’s where you tell me that it is something I should never do, and then I protest, because bobo… if a child were to come up to me today and ask whether or not their parents love them, without thinking about it, I would say they do. Without any doubt, without even asking who their parents are, or whether they are alive or not, I would tell them—yes, more than anything.”
Lan Xichen’s lip trembles, his eyes bright enough to be mistaken for twin stars. He shakes his head, closing his eyes as two pearl-like teardrops spill over his cheeks. Jingyi can only smile at this, laughing inside with joy at the fact that this, which must have been a heavy burden to his Uncle all these years, is finally no more. He knows he will probably cry to himself, later on, an outpouring of love and relief, but right now he feels as light as air.“And I will tell you now,” he says. “That if my parents were anything like me, they certainly wouldn’t complain about what you told me they liked. I mean, fried chicken and plums? I would be so lucky to have a son smuggle me those things, not only once, but three times a year!” he exclaims, waving three fingers.That earns him a snort that explodes like a burst dam.Lan Xichen laughs, throwing his head back and holding his stomach, giving Jingyi no choice but to laugh along with him. It feels so good to laugh, to let go of something that he was unknowingly holding onto. Because part of him has always known, and always wanted to ask more about these people that his bobo called heroes. That is the part that has often wondered why the well ran dry so quickly, and the same stories cycled again and again without end.It was this part of him that did not dare to ask until now.“Bobo, do you mind me asking why you felt the need to tell me this? I mean, why now?” He could have chosen to never tell him, and he wouldn’t have held it against him. He wouldn’t have known any better, obviously, but still. Lan Xichen sighs. “Forgive me, I’m just trying to straighten out some thoughts in my head. Thanks to you, now I’m beginning to understand that…”Jingyi perks up, preening a little under the praise. “That what?”Smiling thinly, “I’m starting to appreciate how important it is to be true to yourself, and what a difference having a choice can make. We must always be careful with what information we choose to keep,” he says, leaning forwards to emphasise this. “And be absolutely sure that it is worth keeping in the first place, for the right reasons—who will gain from it? Who will lose from it? Does it matter? These are the questions we must ask ourselves.”“Like a secret?” Jingyi asks, starting to get the feeling they’re talking about something else entirely. “Perhaps like a secret.” Lan Xichen’s eyes slant sideways, his focus aimed at something in the middle-distance. “Or is it a lie? Secrets are just secrets, after all. I suppose some could be called lies by omission. Either way, some lies are intentional whereas others are not… the former might serve to deceive others, the latter to fool oneself. But no matter what, both are…” he frowns, “Lamentable.”Jingyi’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “Um...”He doesn’t seem to notice him at first, muttering under his breath: “But what if he is right? Maybe bringing the past into this is the last thing we need, but would it be wise to ignore it though—”“Uncle?” He flinches when the man startles violently, gaze swinging around to land on him. They glow in his face, not like stars, but burning coals. “A-Yi,” he says slowly as if waking from a dream. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he thinks something over. Jingyi waits as patiently as he can. There is something here, still waiting to be said, shown by the manner in which he is holding himself. Another burden. Something that seems, from Jingyi’s estimation, to be a fairly new addition—what with Lan Xichen seeming to be trapped under its immeasurable weight.“Never mind,” he says, to Jingyi’s frustration, brushing himself off and wrapping up whatever insecurities he has with a sweet, placid smile. “It’s not worth worrying about.”Jingyi bites his lip, nodding as if to go if you say so. The smile grows more sincere. “Now that that’s been said, shall we focus on something else? Something nicer? How about… hm.” Drumming his fingers on the tabletop, casting his eyes around to find something, it’s no surprise to Jingyi that they eventually fall to the opposite wall. A tingle runs up his spine as countless evenings echo in the thud of Lan Xichen’s footsteps, the slow trek he takes to peruse the bookshelf, the shape of his hunched back and murmur of him talking out options.All of this makes him instinctively crawl over to drag some cushions onto the floor. Lan Xichen beams as he brings over his choice, sinking gracefully beside him and letting out a puff of laughter when Jingyi immediately scowls. “What's that face for? This used to be your favourite,” he says, as though Jingyi wasn’t aware, pushing the tattered book into his hands. “Come on. You love it when I do the voices.”Jingyi exhales hard enough that his cheeks balloon out.“Well, well. This must be the end of times for Lan Jingyi to refuse being read to. Don’t tell me you’re too old for this?” Lan Xichen teases. Jingyi rolls his eyes. “Alright then. If you don’t want to read this one, tell me then—what sort of books you’ve been reading lately that could possibly cause you to turn your nose up at such a masterpiece?” Jingyi cannot hold onto any real irritation when faced with some of his dearest childhood memories contained in yellow pages bound with green-dyed cloth, but as he considers exactly ‘what sort of books he’s been reading lately’, he finds himself suddenly remembering… word-for-word, stacks of texts unfurling like kites tumbling on a breeze, rolling out beneath his eyelids in a blur of black and white. Qi deviation written by ten different scholars.Everything from symptoms, to medications, to stages of deterioration, to what should be done with the body afterwards. How much can be prevented or delayed, and how much cannot; what is to be expected, and how to cope in the aftermath—Lan Xichen is clearly finding it very entertaining watching his face contort, running the whole gamut of human emotion in a blink, but he has no idea what Jingyi has been reading.
And he has no intention of telling him. To deceive others, to fool himself.
What would cause him to turn his nose up at… at his favourite collection of fairytales? Nothing, surely. Jingyi shoves the book back at him, ignoring his Uncle’s bemused smile. He settles in as the story is told without glancing at the pages, recited from memory, spoken from the heart. Naturally, nothing goes smoothly once they step foot out of the Cloud Recesses.Well, at first they do.They’d been travelling at top-speed for a while. The belief that moving faster would get this done sooner was laughable, but he’d been driven by the image of a sleepy A-Yuan blinking up at him and wishing him a safe journey. That was what Wei Ying was hoping to return to as soon as possible, and so he (foolishly) pushed the pace to beyond what he could maintain and unsurprisingly found himself flagging after the first three hours.Three hours. They’ve not even crossed into the Unclean Realm, and already he’s this tired! How pathetic!But perhaps he’d been a little too ambitious. After all, his core was only newly formed, and this sword (whilst good) was no Suibian. It was like asking a baby to walk a mile and being shocked when it didn't happen. Pretty ridiculous, now he stops to think about it.“Enough,” Lan Zhan announces, already aiming Bichen downwards to land.He’s not going to argue with that tone. If such a thing can be possible, his core is intensely grateful for his husband’s rational thinking and shudders gratefully in his lower dantian.The noon sun around the Unclean Realm seems determined to make everyone feel unclean. Sweat saturated clothes which make the wind-whipped dust cling to his skin. Ugh. He scrapes his ponytail up higher and tighter, considers twirling it into a bun, and wonders how his husband is faring—Not a hair out of place. Spotless. Dry. His breathing not even slightly laboured.Wei Ying stares for a moment and then laughs. Only he doesn’t have the breath to laugh, so he chokes instead.“Wei Ying,” the man chides, rushing over to support him as he folds over in half. “Ha-Hanguang-Jun,” he giggles, draping himself over the other’s arm. By some feat of magic, not even the top layer of dust transfers onto his white robes. It must be some sort of magic. Wei Ying catches himself before he starts thinking about it too deeply. As far as he knows, the Gusu Lans’ cleanliness is something that defies explanation. He turns his attention to the road ahead. “I suppose we can rest. There’s a village up ahead.”“En.” We’re definitely resting. You need it. Lan Zhan pulls out a handkerchief and, to his amusement, starts wiping his face clean. They set off, this time at a much more leisurely pace, and Wei Ying is half-tempted to get Lan Zhan to carry him because he totally would, and it would be hilarious, and he’ll never pass up the chance to be carried around in his husband's strong arms. Don't worry Lan Zhan, I don't mind being your princess—“Fucking cut-sleeve!”Both of them freeze. Up ahead a gaggle of men are crowded together. Each one has the same sneer on their face, though some are contorted in actual rage. From a distance, they can hear pained grunts and cries, and it’s obvious that they are beating someone up. Kick. “How dare you touch me? What if I get sick now?”Spit. “Disgusting!”“You think you can just go on like this?” one demands. “Shameless!” A basket flies over his shoulder. A spray of flowers showers over the side of the road. Another man stomps on the basket until it is like pulp. From behind them comes a wail. A plea for help.Lan Zhan is already there, and within the next minute—each one of those men has been taught the meaning of tolerance and is lying flat on the floor groaning. Wei Ying picks up the basket’s broken handle and scoops up a handful of crushed flowers. He turns to find his husband crouched by the side of a cowering youth, offering his hand.“Th-Thank you,” the kid stammers, though they insist on getting themselves upright under their own power. Lan Zhan drops his hand but hovers until they wave him aside. “I’m alright. Thank you, though.”Wei Ying walks over just in time to see them sit up. There is something they are hugging to their chest. Something that rattles—oh. A string of bottle gourds. He reaches out to poke one, but the kid yelps and slaps him away. Huh. Were these what the men were after? He asks, but the kid shakes their head.“No, they just don’t approve of people like me. I suppose they felt the need to let me know that.”
Fucking cut-sleeve!
Wei Ying squints, tilting his head as he examines the… the kid.If he’s being honest, it’s hard to tell whether they are a man or woman. Being a teenager with gangly limbs doesn’t help. Wearing a formless, tattered robe and… and only one shoe, also doesn’t help. The beggar life doesn’t exactly allow for many luxuries, so he doesn’t want to assume they are a man if they are a woman unable to afford finer clothing, or that they are an effeminate man if they are offended by that assumption.He puts on his best smile, which the kid returns after a beat. “I’m sorry about your basket,” he says, handing over the cracked handle.They shrug. “Ah, well. If I don’t have flowers to sell, I can always sing. And if they don’t like my singing, well… I suppose I can always beg?”“…” Wei Ying forces out a laugh, slapping his leg, even though something about this is rather absurd. Since when was begging a choice for beggars? The kid chuckles a little themselves. “That’s the spirit!”Lan Zhan offers his hand again. This time the kid lets him pull them up onto their feet. “Are you hurt?”Another shrug. “Meh.” Amazingly enough, the kid doesn’t seem too bothered by being beaten black and blue. “It’s not that bad,” they say, prodding one bruise and wincing. Blood drips from the welt. “...or maybe it is.”“Is there any medicine in those gourds you can use—whoa!” Wei Ying leaps back, dodging the kid’s fist. “Hey, what’s with the—hey, hey! What are you doing? I’m trying to help you!”“Hands off!” Punch. “These belong to Grandpa!”“I’m not trying to steal from you!”“Oh.” The kid immediately stops mid-swing. “Sorry, I… I guess I’m still a little on edge.”Wei Ying clicks his tongue. “You don’t say!” He folds his arms. “What’s your name, kid?” Before they can answer, their leg buckles suddenly. He lunges to catch them. “Aiyah! See? You’re injured. Lan Zhan, do you have a—” A bandage sails through the air. “Thank you.”“Needs ointment,” Lan Zhan says, eyeing the wound that the kid keeps poking with their dirty fingers. Golden eyes turn to the string of gourds again. “If you have any medicine in there, we may need to use them.”“But they’re Grandpa’s.”“If he’s your grandpa then he won’t mind,” Lan Zhan tries to point out.They shoot him a baffled look. “He’s not my grandpa.”“…”Wei Ying steps in, “Friend, there’s no need to worry. This here is Hanguang-Jun. Surely you must have heard of him?” The kid nods uncertainly, staring mostly at Wei Ying. Is he really that threatening, or—oh. He’s watching him wrap the bandage. Nervous? Okay. “Well then, you must know that the good Hanguang-Jun is a champion of the people, and of no danger to you—”“Oh, Hanguang-Jun,” they say suddenly, turning to face the other. “Lan Wangji of Gusu?”Outwardly Lan Zhan doesn’t react, but Wei Ying can sense his attention honing in on this. “En.”“We share a name then.”Huh? Does that mean this kid is a Lan? “Are you saying you’re—”“No,” Lan Zhan says, shooting Wei Ying a look that says: not part of my clan, and Wei Ying is inclined to believe him, because if there’s anyone who knows the name of every disciple in their clan, it’ll be the person whose duties include keeping track of every single one of those disciples’ progress summary reports (and who does so religiously, to the point of obsession).“But if he’s Hanguang-Jun, then that makes you…”“Wei Wuxian,” he finishes, watching the kid’s expression carefully. They don’t seem too bothered though. Curious. The Yiling Patriarch might be old news by now, but his association with the Second Jade of Lan is still hot gossip, and most people tend to form strong opinions on him rather quickly. “I assume you will have heard of me as well?”Nodding, “I have.” Really? Nothing at all? Not even a twitch?“You know who I am?”Shrug, “What do I care who you are? You’ve called me ‘friend’, so that makes us friends, doesn’t it?”What a strange way of looking at things. Wei Ying tilts his head the other way, but smiles. “I suppose it does… which is why we cannot leave you here like this then, can we? You need treatment.”“Can’t afford it.”“But this grandpa’s gourd you’re holding is a healer, isn’t he? We can take you to him if you want.”The kid hesitates but then nods.“If we’re going to be friends though, it'd be nice to know your name,” Wei Ying points out, giving the kid his shoulder to lean on. We share a name… what does that mean? They don’t answer though, ducking their head.When the pause stretches out too long, he thinks, what if this kid is new to being a beggar? Perhaps they’ve been told not to give their name to strangers—oh, what if they’re on the run? That would definitely explain not wanting to reveal their identity. It would also explain the strange clothing too. “Never mind, friend,” Wei Ying says easily enough, gesturing ahead. “Lead on.”They hobble back to the village, but due to the kid struggling with each step, it takes quite a long time. By the time they reach the gates, it is afternoon. The moment they enter the village, the kid staggers out of his hold towards a man sat by a shed, who is busy draining a large jar of wine. “Uncle!” the kid cries, collapsing by his side. “Uncle, you won’t believe what happened…”Wei Ying freezes. With the way that kid has approached their uncle… will he think they’ve kidnapped them?! The man lifts his head and blinks slowly at whatever they are saying, clearly drunk out of his mind. Then he pats the kid on the head and turns to smile at them, lazily waving a fan in their direction in a beckoning gesture. Well, at least he seems friendly. Maybe this man took the kid under his wing. Wei Ying puts on his most charming smile as his eyes sweep down to the man’s protruding belly which spills out of his robe. A long wispy beard trails the length of his torso, and as his gaze returns to the man’s face, he is reminded of a rather large, sleepy cat. His smile isn’t as gormless as Wei Ying was expecting though. Rather pleasant, with intelligent eyes twinkling under two bushy brows.“I see you are the ones who found this one,” he says, still absentmindedly petting the kid’s head. “This one does tend to wander around a lot.”“Our friend was in a spot of trouble so we stopped to lend a hand,” Wei Ying explains. “They require some treatment.”“Friend?” the man murmurs, swaying back and forth. “Ah, I see, I see… many thanks.” Wow. This guy must be deep in his cups to be behaving like this. Wei Ying nudges his husband further back behind him. It’ll be just their luck that the poor man gets drunk from the alcoholic fumes. To be safe, Wei Ying breathes as deeply as he can. Maybe if he inhales enough, he’ll make the air less intoxicating for Lan Zhan? Ironically enough, that is some real drunken logic right there. “I would offer you some wine, but it’s a little early in the day to be drinking,” the drunkard says, managing to defeat Wei Ying in terms of drunken logic. Before he can reply, the man adds, “Especially if you’re hoping to arrive on time. Gotta have a clear head when you’re flying against the wind.”Wei Ying feels his skin prickle, and Lan Zhan is pressing against his back, no doubt bearing a similar startled expression to him. Arrive on time? Against the wind? “I beg your pardon?”“Ha! Rich young masters like you two surely don’t need to beg,” the man says… is it the alcohol, or is he also stupid? He turns to his friend. “A-Lan, I told you not to go looking for him.”“Why is he here?” the kid (A-Lan, oh so that’s what they meant!) squawks, looking distinctly annoyed. “He came back when you left. Told you he would.”“Urgh!”“But then he left again. Gone out to look for Boss. Needs help with another patient.”Clearly they are finished with them now. It’s likely they’ve forgotten that they’ve got company, what with them talking amongst themselves. Maybe Wei Ying has been hanging around the Lans too much because the lack of manners does bother him a little, but people like this probably live by a very different set of rules, so he knows not to take it too personally.Even so, to his surprise, the drunkard spins around to address them again.“How much?”“Pardon?”He points, “For bringing this one back.” The man hesitates, then holds out both the fan and the (probably empty) jar of wine. “What one do you want? I know they’re not much, but they're all I’ve got.”Is that supposed to make them want to take them? If those are the man’s only belongings, even if he had wanted them he wouldn’t take them! Luckily for him, Lan Zhan declines on their behalf in his usual blunt yet polite way. The man looks pleasantly surprised by this. “You sure? Most would take one, even if they’re worth nothing.”That might be true, but, “They’re worth something to you,” Wei Ying says, gently pushing the offered items back towards the man. His fingers twitch, tingling again with that strange sensation from before. It could be due to the man’s piercing gaze, or it could be something else.They leave then and head to the inn for some refreshments. As they sit and wait for the food to arrive, Wei Ying reaches across the table to grab his husband’s wrist. Leaning close, he mutters lowly, “What do you think?”Lan Zhan hums, eyes lighting with interest. “Those two are rather suspicious,” he says, idly watching the people passing by their window-seat. “I would say that they are harmless if it weren’t for the strange feeling I’m getting. You too?”“En.”“Are we being paranoid? Could it just be a coincidence that another pair of beggars have crossed our path, or could it be something else?” “…”Whilst the old man came to the Cloud Recesses himself, and his daughter was allegedly found in Caiyi Town, in this case, he’s using the term ‘crossing paths’ rather loosely. The thing is, he does believe coincidences a lot of the time, but rarely when they are on a mission, and almost never when the incident gives off this sort of unnerving feeling.They can't have been followed on their swords though, and by foot, they only met A-Lan further down the road. Unbelievable. They’ve not even started on what they’ve actually come to do and already their journey has veered this far off-course!“The Beggars’ Sect.”Lan Zhan presses a mug into his hands. Wei Ying sips it, humming.“Mm, might be. They are wearing the same sort of robes. If that’s the case, then this could be a good opportunity to gather some information.” The Beggars’ Sect—an unofficial clan of misfits who operate under the guise of mendicancy, renowned for upholding justice for the common people, and even more reputed for their excellent information gathering skills. Regardless of where or how, their network is so widespread that Wei Ying is confident that somewhere along the line, someone is likely to have heard something about Lan Xichen.Though his condition isn’t public knowledge, these ‘beggars’ have sources in all sorts of places, and there is always the fact that… even if there is nothing coming from the victim’s (Lan Xichen) side, it’s possible that from the other end, the assailant is leaving some sort of trail behind them that they can trace backwards.“Too dangerous,” Lan Zhan says after thinking it through. “Not worth it.”It’s true that the problem with obtaining the best information is that it tends to come with a considerable price. It’s why most cultivation sects generally avoid engaging with the Beggars’ Sect, even if their information is considered first-rate. The underground world is rife with shady dealings, often resulting in gang wars between rival groups. Even individuals can be dangerous—as proven by Xue Yang.The fact that A-Lan was attacked by a group seems to support this, which makes Wei Ying wonder…“It might be worth sending Wen Ning in,” Wei Ying offers, immediately holding up his hand to halt the imminent protest. “Your brother will be fine. I'm telling you: in, out, it'll be quick. If I summon him now, he can be back by morning. At the very least, he can provide some back-up for us.”“Back-up?”He hums.“That is the fifth time that woman has walked past our table.” The woman passes by again, a sixth time. She’s dressed in loose, flowing silks, but from the way she’s acting, she’s not looking to them as prospective customers. Across the room, the boy Wei Ying has been keeping an eye on suddenly spins around and leaves. “I don’t think we need to worry, but I am getting the feeling we may have accidentally stumbled into something here.”Lan Zhan places his cup down.“We could leave.”“We could, but so long as we mind our own business we may not need to. Look, the Beggars’ aren’t known for being hostile unless provoked. We’ve done nothing wrong towards them. In fact, we may have even helped one of their own.” (Might have helped one side, but what about the other? Wei Ying knows the dangers that come with taking a side.) “But just to be safe…”“Call him.”By the time they have eaten (by which: the service was so slow, and the food so unappetising, that it took a while) and Wei Ying has finished playing Chengqing, the sun is hanging low in the sky.One glance at this, and both of them immediately turn back to go find the innkeeper. So much for sticking to the plan. When they return to their previous table, it is evening. It’s a mystery how anything gets done in this village with how slow everyone moves. Lan Zhan brings them a pot of tea, deciding to bypass the waitstaff and save themselves an hour's wait. After pouring them each some, he turns his cup a few times between his palms—a dead giveaway that he’s thinking (fretting) about something.It can’t be the beggars though, can it? They’ve been through too much for something like this to unnerve him. They haven’t even been threatened by anyone (yet). “What is it?” Wei Ying asks, again grabbing his husband’s wrist. This time he flips his hand over and plays with his knuckles. “What are you thinking about?”It takes him a moment, but then he says, “The medicine gourds.”“What about them?” He hadn’t sensed anything when he’d—ah, but he hadn’t touched it, like he had the fan. So maybe, “Do you think—”“It’s making me wonder… maybe what we should be looking for isn’t answers.” Lan Zhan’s fine wrist-bone shifts under his fingers almost imperceptibly. His gaze drops to the table. “Maybe what we should be looking for are better healers.”The Lans are proficient in pretty much every field of study, but what they specialise most of all in music, meditation and medicine—the Three M’s, as he likes to call it. That means that for the past year, Lan Xichen has been undergoing treatment from his sect’s best healers.And yet, no improvement. But there is no such thing as ‘better’ treatment than what he’s receiving now, because no other sect can hold a candle to Gusu Lan in terms of healing, and everyone knows that.(It’s with a pang of misery that he thinks of a stern young woman whose skill in healing had been unparalleled, and how she might have been an option had she lived.)“Maybe,” he agrees softly, patting Lan Zhan’s wrist. For him to have suggested this he must be reaching his limit. Just like Sizhui, the endless waiting must be forcing him to consider every possibility. “But do you think… is it worth asking that grandpa for help?” Would a member of the Beggars’ Sect even be willing help to them? For a hefty price, probably. But the disconnect between mainstream society (i.e. them) and the Beggars’ Sect is vast, and their services in high demand, which therefore means their price is often only worth paying if one is beyond desperation.Perhaps if it’s to save a life though, it might be different. After all, this is Lan Xichen's life they're talking about. Zewu-Jun, the First Jade. Renowned for his kindness and generosity, his virtue and compassion. Who wouldn't want to help someone like him?There may be a chance, because if there is one rule that all Beggars are sworn to uphold, it’s to always help those who are in need. (It’s what made him consider joining when he was younger. During his time on the streets, various aunts and uncles would sometimes mistake him for one of their protégées, and scold him for not being where he was supposed to be. Some would ask to take him under their protection, offering to train him up if he’d join them.Back then he’d been tempted. He would dream someday of becoming part of something bigger…but he’d rejected each offer that was made to him.Because his parents were coming back soon. Any day now. He couldn’t be running around, working under a master, and making his name… they had told him to wait. They had told him to stay there for them, for when they come back.And then years passed, and they didn’t.)“Go on then,” he says, smiling at his husband. “Go ask the innkeeper where to find that grandpa. I’ll stay here and keep our table.” Lan Zhan stiffens. From his body language, it’s clear what he’s thinking. “I’ll be good, I promise. I just sit here. I won’t even drink anything.” Lan Zhan dithers for a while, but then nods, and sets off to search. Wei Ying’s smile wilts after he leaves. He traces the whorls in the table’s rough wooden surface as the blurry memory of those empty days tugs at him. They don’t have much of a hold on him anymore, but the experience still lingers. It’s why he’d meant it when he said they’re worth something to you because he knows how precious even the most meagre of things can become when you have nothing. When he lifts his gaze from the table, wanting to distract himself with something more interesting whilst he waits, he catches sight of A-Lan on the other side of the room, head bent as they talk with someone. They don’t seem to care about their injuries from before, and the expression on their face is intriguing. Are they really conducting important business in a place like this? How cavalier.The bar isn’t crowded, but it isn’t exactly empty either. There’s a good chance that most of the people here are part of the Beggars’ network, lending him some protection. In fact… what if this is their headquarters? Wei Ying considers this, then the table, and decides that it must be his fate: the price for information will be losing their seats. (And a very, very disappointed husband, but he’ll pay for that later. Hopefully tonight.)And so, he walks across to the bar and plops a coin down on the counter.“—id you hear that? That sort of ability is… it sounds a lot like that war-criminal, don’t you think?” the woman they are speaking to says, dropping her voice when A-Lan motions at her to do so. “That man. What did they call him?”“The Core-Melting Hand.”Wei Ying almost drops his mug. He smiles sheepishly at the barman, gesturing for a rag. “That’s right, the Core-Melting Hand. Only this person… I hear he’s only done it once, but that’s only once that we know of. Who’s to say he won’t do it again? Those cultivators better watch out!”“Why?”“They say his technique wasn’t the same.” The woman shudders, grasping A-Lan by the arm. “They say that the core he took wasn’t melted, it was stolen!”Stolen. Could that be it? But Jiang Cheng saw, and Wei Ying has heard from every healer who has examined Lan Xichen, that his core is still there, and intact. “How does one steal a core?”“Don’t ask me. I’m not a cultivator!”A-Lan sits back. That’s another action that supports them being a Beggars’ Sect member, in Wei Ying’s opinion. The questions they’re asking suggest they know more about cultivation than the average person. He thanks the barman, takes the rag and starts wiping down the counter.“But didn’t this happen a long time ago?”“It did, it did, but the news came out only recently, you see. You know how it is. The rain that falls on the heavens takes its time to reach the ground,” she says, sneering briefly before continuing in her previous manner, “But big news like this, and considering who it’s about? It’s no wonder it’s spread so quickly! Shameful,” she tsks, shaking her head.“This core-stealing man,” A-Lan says slowly, “Do you have any idea who he might be?”“For sure,” she declares, glancing around, “But I dare not say his name, lest it be on my head. He is known for being exceptionally cruel to those who have wronged him. I wouldn't risk my life for any amount of coin.”“Fair enough. Could you at least tell me though,” sliding a few coins across, “How do they think he does it?” The hairs lift on the back of Wei Ying’s neck, and he struggles to maintain an easy-going smile while the barman chats to him about something or other. (The costs of vegetables rising? How fascinating.)“I’ve no idea how. All I know is that he stole it from his own brother, can you believe? Left him for dead once the deed was done, then went off to rebuild his sect. The Wens ravaged it back in the day. It’s probably what drove him mad.”All the blood seems to freeze in Wei Ying’s veins, his heart pounding as it dawns on him who they are talking about. Jiang Cheng. The rumours… considering who it’s about, it’s no wonder it’s spread so quickly! Of course, Sect Leaders are always under the closest scrutiny. Distantly, he’d suspected that despite their best efforts, some of what had happened at the Guanyin Temple must have managed to make itself known to the masses, but he hadn’t thought… whilst most of the gossip centres around Jin Guangyao’s grand scheme, a lot of other things are also being talked about, including: how Nie Huaisang was involved, whether Lan Xichen should be called into question, and where the Yiling Patriarch fit into all of it…
But Jiang Cheng? He can’t even guess who it was who’d revealed that part to the public, because when it came to it, when Jiang Cheng was being taunted by Jin Guangyao about Suibian… he hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than his brother’s reaction.
Whatever audience had been watching, he’d been unable to care what they thought. Unable to think of anything else but Jiang Cheng. Did you perhaps take any golden elixirs? Zidian bursting with white light—“That’s horrible. But… wait, are you saying it's that cultivator?” “Ph-whsssh!” The woman mimes cracking a whip, chortling as she does so. So much for valuing her own life. Wei Ying masks a flinch with a sudden grin (more like gritting his teeth), shocking the bartender into momentary silence. He thanks him curtly, tosses him another coin, and returns once-more to their still-vacant table. Each step feels like he’s shaking the Earth, and when he sits, he buries his face in his hands. It’s no surprise that the rumours got it all wrong, but… there’s no way for him to correct what has been told without making things worse.How can he tell them that he gave Jiang Cheng his core willingly? What will that do but cause him to lose even more face? Why does that even need to be said? Do these people not have brains? Do they not care to question why Jiang Cheng would even need another core?The answer is right there in what she’d said: ‘ravaged' by the Wens. The Core-Melting Hand. It was stated right fucking there why he needed it.(Don’t make it sound like he took it for the sake of taking it. Wei Ying knows his brother would have died without his core. He’d needed one more than him. By the time he’d found him, he was barely holding onto life, hanging by a thread.)Ignore them, he tells himself, because rumours spread by this sort of crowd aren’t worth paying attention to. He tells himself that Jiang Cheng probably won’t even hear about it. Even if he does, he’s weathered far worse storms than this. Sandu Shengshou didn't exactly become a household name from being well-liked, but from the bloody deeds he's committed painting him as a fearsome character to be talked about quietly, with caution and respect. Maybe that might work in his favour here. Maybe, just like the woman has done, the fear of inciting Sandu Shengshou’s wrath will be enough to quell these rumours before they spread too far.But she also said it was catching on fast. And its baselessness and the fact that it might not be as remarkable or significant as other more scandalous claims might actually make the situation worse. Because Wei Ying knows that rumours like these that carry no particular value are sometimes more dangerous for this exact reason.Instead of being kept secret to be sold for the best price, they can be tossed around to everyone’s delight—thrown about for all to see, and allowed to grow like weeds to dirty the landscape. It makes him sick to think that despite the inaccuracies of what has been told, to some extent people know about Jiang Cheng's core (or at least they think they do, which is just as bad).Because that’s his brother they’re all claiming is a ‘core-stealer’, and of all people, they dare compare him to Wen Zhuliu? How dare they? How dare they? He grips the table until his nails threaten to break—“Wei Ying.”He jumps. “Lan Zhan!” Slapping on his best smile, “When did you come back? What did you find?”Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow. We'll talk about this later, they say. “The innkeeper said that these people aren’t regulars, so he cannot tell me where to find the healer.”Not regulars? “So they’re travellers?”“Definitely not villagers,” he answers, glancing at their surroundings. “You?”“Nothing relevant,” Wei Ying replies quickly, grabbing him before he can sit. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I need to stretch my legs.”“En.”Just as they’re about to leave the inn, on their way out a very familiar face appears, blocking the doorway. Wei Ying nearly groans. “You??”“Young masters,” the drunkard smiles at them both. “Hello again.”“Hello again, goodbye again. Please excuse us. We’ll be leaving first—”“Hold on,” the man insists, stepping to block them again. “I heard you were looking for a healer?”Both of them stare. The thought passes through them at the same time: how did he hear that? He wasn’t in the inn before. Lan Zhan gently nudges Wei Ying behind him. “Who told you?”He ignores this question. “If you want a good healer, the grandpa A-Lan was talking about before is one of the best I know. Granted, he’s also my good friend. If you want to find him, he goes by the name Old Man Li, but I warn you,” grinning, “He has an awful bedside manner and an even worse consultation fee.” With that, he bids them farewell and heads indoors.Wei Ying throws his hands in the air, stomping out into the cold. “Honestly, what is it with this place? That guy is so weird, and the kid—what was up with them? Lan Zhan,” he whines. “I don’t even want a bath and then bed. I just want a bed.” Stabbing a finger at his husband, "And when I say bed, I mean sleep. Everyday is not today, understand?"“Bath.”“Fine! Bath, but nothing else tonight, understand? I mean it. I am done with today. We should have kept on going instead of coming here, I swear to god—”“Young Master Wei.”
Crash!
“Holyfuckingshit.” Whirling around, Wei Ying points at a hunched figure huddling by some stacked crates. “What did I say about sneaking up on people?! What did I say?!”Wen Ning blinks slowly. “Not to do it?”“So? What the hell was that then?!!”“Good evening, Wen Ning,” Lan Zhan says calmly, clasping his hands. Wen Ning returns the gesture, “Young Master Lan, good evening.” Turning back to Wei Ying, his colourless eyes flit to the inn and back. “That man you were speaking to just now…”“Ah, yes!” Wei Ying lunges forwards to grab him, also snagging Lan Zhan by the arm, as he drags them all into an alleyway. “He’s one of the ones I was telling you about. There’s also a kid—”“I don’t know about a kid, but I have been following that man since this afternoon. He is… strange.”“Right?”“Something I cannot quite place, but rather… odd.”“Right?!”“Though I made sure to stay hidden, he kept looking in my direction, and I…” Wen Ning shuffles on his feet, “It swear, it was like he could sense where I was. Like he could see me.”That makes them all stop to consider what that might imply because not even top cultivators can sense Wen Ning if he isn’t using any spiritual energy. He is, after all, more advanced than your typical walking corpse.As a fierce corpse, whilst his body is a vessel that uses resentful energy, he has the ability to control how much is released, and therefore how much can be sensed. He has become exceptionally good at masking himself, to the point where he usually cannot be found unless he wants to be.Impossible, Wei Ying wants to say, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “He has a fan.” Frowning as he recalls the zap of energy he felt when he touched it, “It has spirituality.”Lan Zhan looks surprised, but Wen Ning only nods. “You must be careful,” he says. “He isn’t dangerous as far as I can tell, but that's not to say that he isn't. I do not sense any resentment coming from him. If anything… it's almost the opposite.” Saying this is strange in of itself, but in a way… since Wen Ning is sensitive to resentful energy, wouldn’t it make sense for him to be able to sense positive energy too? It sort of does. “That child you mentioned.”“Young, but not a child,” Lan Zhan clarifies. “Called A-Lan.”“I will keep an eye out for them too, but in the meantime… young masters, please do be careful.”With that Wen Ning departs, and they reluctantly retire for the night. Back to the inn, where both oddballs are probably still lurking. Wei Ying does his best not to drag his feet, but it’s a near thing.As they walk to their room, a sweet sound hovers in the air for a moment and then sweeps in closer, riding the chilly night breeze. He cocks his head to listen to it, eyes darting around to try and pinpoint which direction it is coming from—force of habit. It’s just music though. Nothing threatening. Not a glimmer of spiritual energy to be found embedded in the lilting strains of the melody. After all of this strangeness, something simple and good like this though… does make him wonder. Wei Ying loops his arm through his husband’s, leaning his head on his shoulder with a sigh. They round the corner, coming to a stop facing a long corridor. Lan Zhan goes ahead, but Wei Ying hangs back for a moment. The music has pulled away, which must mean it must be coming from behind. Spinning around, he catches sight of a silhouette sitting atop the inn-house’s roof.He’s close enough that he can make out that the man is playing a dizi. Why… a man after his own heart! He hears the jingling of keys as Lan Zhan wrestles with the rusty lock, but listens to the tail-end of the flute-song, finding himself smiling as it meanders towards a concluding verse. Beautiful! Even before it ends, he can’t hold back from applauding, “Young master, you’re really good!”The figure pauses, then pulls the flute away from his lips to smile. “You think so?”“Yes, yes, very good!” he insists, nodding enthusiastically. That music was exactly what he’d needed. “I really liked it!”(Though now that he thinks about it… isn’t it a bit strange to be lounging about on a roof, especially on a cold night like this?)“Wei Ying.”Lan Zhan tugs at his sleeve, and he makes to answer, but then the man speaks again.“Then I am honoured,” he says, hopping down from the roof. “That’s high praise coming from you.”The wind gusts past, blowing a sweet smell towards them. Wei Ying switches to breathing through his mouth. Behind him, “Wei Ying.”“Coming from me?” he asks, ignoring the insistent tugging at his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”“I’m just saying, you’re not so bad yourself.”Does this man know him? It’s never good news when someone knows him from somewhere, but it’s a fairly common occurrence given how he was, back in the day. It usually means it’s to do with the Yiling Patriarch. It usually means the person has come looking for him and bears a grudge.The man’s smile doesn’t waver.Wei Ying subconsciously steps between him and Lan Zhan.Now he’s starting to get that same feeling he got with the other two beggars, which makes him think he really shouldn’t have spoken to him in the first place. Why couldn’t he have just enjoyed the music and stayed quiet? Wait, but what does that mean: ‘you’re not so bad yourself’? If he’s heard Chenqing, that would imply… nope. It’s too strange. After the others, it’s too much.“Thank you,” he forces himself to say, “We will be going now. Goodnight.”“Have a good evening, young masters,” the man calls out. Lan Zhan shuts the door and locks it. Still, the reedy sound of flute-song seeps in through the wood, floating up from the gap beneath the door. Wei Ying shudders. A shiver ripples down his spine which has him jerking backwards with a gasp. Gooseflesh erupts over his skin, his breath stuttering. Lan Zhan lunges across, scoops him up, and marches straight to the bed.His mind doesn’t quiver with excitement when he’s thrown onto his back. When Lan Zhan pulls him against his chest, large hands rubbing up and down his back, his blood doesn’t boil with lust. He feels cold. Chilled by that exchange, for reasons he cannot explain.“Lan Zhan,” he whispers weakly. Who was that? Does he know him? Does that man know him? Is this all in his head? “Lan Zhan.”“Wei Ying, I’m here.” Indeed he is. He is everywhere—arms and legs enfolding him, long hair spilling around him like a curtain. He is safe here, with his husband. And yet, it’s not enough.Mind full of questions, heart beating a mile a minute, he trembles in a darkness that he no longer belongs to, and suddenly wishes they were home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"A bridge has no allegiance to either side."
― Les Coleman
Knock knock
“Coming!”Wei Ying stumbles to his feet.For the first time in his life, he springs out of bed before Lan Zhan. That’s only because he cannot bear lying down for a second longer after having slept for barely a handful of hours. Lan Zhan spent most of the night stroking his hair and singing to him lowly until he finally teetered off the edge of consciousness himself. But then…[The flute-song shot straight into his subconscious, luring him down into a cold, dark place. There, a pair of fiery, burning eyes gleamed in the darkness.A scratchy voice muttered, “Since when have you ever let someone tell you what to do?” They clicked their tongue at him. Moments later, something heavy thumped him on the back, “What are you doing? Spit that out!”]What a weird dream.Literally, everything has been so infuriatingly weird ever since they stepped foot in this godforsaken village, and he is done with it.It’s almost as bad as Yi City, only without all the death and living corpses staining the land. Usually the strange is something that entertains him, giving him a puzzle for his hungry mind to chew over. But here? It feels like the atmosphere is just strange for no reason. If even sleeping cannot give him reprieve—
Knock
Knock-knock-knock-knock
“OhmygodI’m—I’m coming!” Almost ripping his robes in his haste, he waves Lan Zhan off as he suddenly jerks awake. (Briefly, he worries. It’s not like Lan Zhan to sleep in like this either… weird and weirder!) Then Wei Ying yanks open the door, blinking into the dim morning light. Part of him is expecting to find those flame-like eyes waiting for him, so he readies himself to slam the door shut, but— “You?!” It baffles him sometimes, existing in this stage in between being an adult and a child. On one side he is a (respected?) Sect Leader, looked to for instruction and guidance (ha!). On the other? He’s a freaking messenger-boy for his uncle. This is a task Jin Ling has been doing ever since he could walk, when Jiang Cheng would send him all around Lotus Pier to deliver “important messages” to various people. He’d loved doing it, feeling oh-so-proud to be given the honour—all until he caught onto the fact that it was just a way to keep him occupied for a few hours so that his uncle could get some work done. After that, he’d give the task to Fairy to complete. Either that or he’d (literally) sit on the letter for the longest time until someone finally came looking for it, asking about the delay. Maybe it was this which started the habit of not waiting around for letters, and his rather loose sense of punctuality in terms of handling written correspondence. In retaliation against this bad habit, Jiang Cheng would scold him for hours and hours, threatening to whip the impudence out of him.And yet the bad habit still lives on, and Jin Ling has never felt Zidian’s sting, and all that has come from it is that out of all his uncle’s lectures, he can recite this one by heart: “Never dictate where you can write. Never send someone with your messages if you can be the one to deliver them yourself. If you cannot do either, then make sure to pay the messenger well.” At first, he’d thought this was advice to do as much as you can to limit your dependence on others. Then he wondered if it was his uncle telling him to be careful in trusting others. Both sounded correct. Then he’d thought it could be a jibe against Jin Ling’s misconduct, which sounded the most likely of all.But his uncle never seemed to heed his own lessons, did he? Or was this not proof of his hypocrisy? Sending letters to Zewu-Jun, like this—using him! Exactly what part of this is ‘paying the messenger well’? Making him worry last night for hours, only to find him freezing to death in a freaking pond…?(He swears his hands still stink of feet.)The letter he holds in hand probably does too by now. So much for ‘not waiting around for a reply’. When he arrived, there Zewu-Jun was with a letter already written in-hand. When he’d exchanged letters with him, he’d held Jiang Cheng’s letter like it was a live snake, and had thanked him for it weakly. Then he’d enquired how his uncle was, to which Jin Ling decided to be honest (in that he was being annoying), which prompted more questions, to which he gave a carefully edited version of the events of last night. It wouldn’t do to be the reason for his uncle losing face, and for such a ridiculous reason too!He left the hanshi feeling utterly befuddled. What the hell was going on between these two was what Jin Ling wanted to know. Friendship or failure, he wanted to know where they stood so that he can know where he stands with Zewu-Jun. But it’s impossible to tell from his uncle alone.Jiang Cheng will talk readily about business partners, ranting about how useless or irritating they are, but when it comes to the things he really cares about—the things he holds close to his chest, he is a steel trap. Whilst last night was as good as his uncle confessing to him outright: I fucked up, what Jin Ling wants to know is if there is anything left to salvage from this, because Jiang Cheng got defensive about it, and when Jiang Cheng gets defensive, that means he must care about it. And even if he only cares a little, it’s enough to make Jin Ling care about it too. A potential friend is all the incentive he needs. He meant what he said.
(I worry about you, Uncle. I hope you know that.)
Even though it may have sounded like he took Zewu-Jun’s side last night, that’s not really what happened. He just… he wants to take Jiang Cheng’s hand and lead him to a middle ground, where others can be right and he can be wrong, and it doesn’t matter who is or isn’t, because, in the end, Jin Ling will still be holding his hand. Standing by his side.If there’s anyone worth giving a chance like that to, it has to be someone like Zewu-Jun, who—most people would agree—is the least likely person to take advantage of such things, and won’t let being right go to his head. With him, Jiang Cheng can be safely wrong with him and still leave an argument with his precious dignity intact.Or at least that’s what Jin Ling hopes. Because it’s as he told his uncle: he really doesn’t know Zewu-Jun very well. From what he’s heard, he has a forgiving and considerate character. If he were brave enough, he’d try to assess his character himself, but Jin Ling isn’t brave enough to ask him such things, because he doesn’t know how to approach someone like Zewu-Jun, because… well, how does someone approach a person like Zewu-Jun?Hailed as a top-ranking cultivator, he is leagues above Jin Ling. Entirely out of reach.The half of Jin Ling’s childhood spent at Koi Tower had been boring as hell, and what had been worse was the lack of playmates available to him.Either his peers ignored him or bullied him. No one wanted to be associated with the angry, spoilt brat heir of Lanling Jin. Even with his uncle—well, he isn’t going to think about that uncle. That one’s been and gone. The fact is, he used to practically count the days to go back to Lotus Pier.At least there, the children were mostly indifferent due to their parents not caring much about another sect’s orphaned child. There were less eyes judging him when he'd run around the docks playing by himself. He was sometimes even included in games that needed one more person, and if worse came to worst he could hang out with the servants if his jiujiu was too busy for him. Back then though, Zewu-Jun had been a regular visitor to Koi Tower, and one time…The first time he ever saw him he’d been playing by himself in one of the courtyard fountains, chasing the fat koi around the basin. He’d been recently given a new puppy, and was having the time of his life playing with her, but then… he’d heard laughter like he’d never heard it before. Soft and musical, just like the sparkling water that trickled from his hands. He turned and swore he saw a fairy… real-life fairy! Like those fairies the old grandmas in Lotus Pier told him about! (Of course, it had only been Zewu-Jun. Radiant in the sunshine, clad in heavenly white, smiling down at him. But at the time… Jin Ling had been starstruck. An actual fairy!)When he went back home (to Lotus Pier), jiujiu had been worried at first to find him so quiet and had thought he was sick. But then, to Jin Ling’s eternal embarrassment, he claims that the only thing Jin Ling would talk about for days was this “fairy” he’d met. Babbling “fairy” this and “fairy” that. He’d deny it if it weren’t for the fact that—well, the name clearly stuck. (And now Fairy is Fairy, and Jin Ling has no idea what the reason is for people pulling a face when learning this. It’s a perfectly good name.)He digresses. That was a one-time encounter. The starry-eyed awe faded into more of a bland respect for a well-regarded senior of their time, growing even more distant as the years passed by. It’s that distance, however, that he finds intimidating to cross. To become his student? Jin Ling finds himself both excited by the prospect and also dreading it, but all in all, he stands by what he says. He trusts that he will learn a lot from him.But about Uncle… he wants to know that when he leaves him behind, he won’t be left entirely alone. Their little world, which (for Uncle) has been just the two of them for so long, has grown massively in the past couple years, but Jin Ling knows that Uncle won’t engage with the others unless he has to. The one thing he’s pursued for himself by himself is a reconciliation with Uncle Wei, but frankly, even that is— It’s not something—He lied about that part.
I don’t want to know what happened to you unless you want me to.
He’s been curious for the longest time about their relationship. He hopes one day he will tell him, but for now… Jin Ling looks at his small group of friends who have broadened his horizons wider than the heaps of gold in his pockets ever could, the seniors he looks up to, the (junior) juniors he hopes will look up to him someday… and then he looks at his jiujiu, and thinks: what about him?
(Maybe he needs a friend.)
“—fuuuuuuck!”Ah, he’d recognise that yell anywhere. Jin Ling swings around the corner, a grin already stretching across his lips. He leans against the doorframe and waits for Jingyi to acknowledge him first, but in his book-throwing, red-faced anger, his gaze flies past him several times. Finally, he spins and jumps at the sight of him. “How—how long have you been there?!”“Making noise,” he checks off fingers, “Damaging property, using bad words. How many rules is that?”He expects Jingyi to stick his tongue out or come at him swinging. Instead, he drops into the chair behind him like a felled tree. Jin Ling stares in shock at his unusually downbeat friend, but then Fairy trots forwards to rest her head on Jingyi’s lap and whines at him until he flops forwards, pressing his face into her side. It looks like he’s trying to suffocate himself in her fur.He approaches carefully. “What’s wrong? You look… stressed.”Jingyi shakes his head, groaning loud enough to make Fairy’s ears rotate wildly. “Where is Sizhui?”Jingyi mumbles, “Helping train disciples.”“And what are you doing?”“Research.” He exhales heavily. Fairy sneezes. “I… I’m just not used to doing this by myself. Urgh. It’s so much. It’s so boring. Sizhui would at least know where to start—”“Lemme see.” Jin Ling plucks a book off the table. “What the hell.” What type of research is this? “Is someone sick?”Jingyi tilts his face away from Fairy’s snout. “Didn’t we tell you?” Tired eyes trail over the books scattered around, the notes littering the spaces left in between. Rubbing his face tiredly, “Uncle isn’t… he’s unwell.”Uncle? “Zewu-Jun, you mean?” Obviously he has heard that he’s unwell, but… ‘it’s so much’? Is it serious then?“Looks serious. No one knows what’s causing it, which is the main problem.”Jin Ling blinks. Did he say that out loud? “Huh…” Does he offer to help, or what?This seems like… Jingyi is confessing a lot to him here and doesn’t seem to realise it either. From friend to friend it wouldn’t matter, but he probably doesn’t realise the implications of revealing his Sect Leader’s poor condition to another Sect Leader—oh what the hell, does it even matter anyway? It’s not like they don’t trust each other with their lives already. It’s not like Jin Ling will exploit this information.Jin Ling pulls out the chair next to him and thinks for a moment. He honestly wouldn’t know where to start with this. He’s no specialist in medicine. It’s obvious they need Sizhui’s organised mind here. After a moment, all he has to offer is: “So why do you look so terrible?”Because it seems there is more to Jingyi’s stress than some heavy reading.“What’s wrong?”For a long moment, it seems like he doesn’t want to answer. Then Jingyi breathes shakily. “I’ve been told not to do this, but I—I don’t care if Hanguang-Jun says not to. And if Sizhui wants to do other things instead of doing this,” Jingyi leans over to drag a stack of books closer to him. “Then I’ll find the cure, even if I have to do it all by myself.”Jin Ling stares for a long while. For someone who lives and breathes by Hanguang-Jun’s approval, this is quite the turnaround. With only Hanguang-Jun, Sizhui’s absence, a sick Zewu-Jun, and Jingyi’s resigned expression to go by, he has no idea what to make of the situation. Truth be told, out of the three of them, both he and Jingyi usually turn to Sizhui when they need help, so for him not to be here…Jin Ling looks at the B-grade student banging his forehead on the desk in front of him, and chucks a wad of paper in between—to preserve the (few) remaining brain cell(s) he (probably?) has, of course. “Why does Sizhui not want to help?”“It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s that… he’s finding it difficult to deal with this directly. He prefers to handle everything else, and there’s a lot to do. I really don’t mind. I can… I can handle it.”“Can you.”“Did I not just say—”“Move aside.” Jingyi scoots his chair over, and Jin Ling starts with the stack on his left. He feels the weight of his gaze on the side of his face and promptly shoves Jingyi’s face out of the way. “Mrrrk!”“In all the time that I’ve known you, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you two idiots apart. It seems to me that you really don’t work well alone, do you? Does that mean you share just the one brain cell? Does that mean Sizhui has taken it with him? Is that why you’re being so useless?”The Lan boy sputters in the perfect imitation of Teacher finding fault with literally anything Senior Wei does. “Idiot,” he declares, flipping to the first page. “Thinking he can do such things by himself.”“What are you doing?”“Helping, of course. You clearly need it.” Jin Ling scoffs at the look on his friend’s face but glows inside. (Friend. It still warms him to think he has those now.) “Why the face?”“Don’t you have like… places to be? Things to do?”Jin Ling frowns slightly. It’s true, he does. He’s made it clear to both Lans, his duties will change very rapidly which will reduce the time they can spend together, but… he also thought he made it clear that they were important to him too, even by the fact that he was bothering to tell them such things. “Shut up,” he says. “That’s none of your business. And even if I did, I choose where I go and what I do, and I’m here now. Are you going to refuse help?”Jingyi’s mouth opens and closes a bit. “Are you sure you want to? Uncle—Zewu-Jun is not your responsibility. Also, he—what he did…”Jin Ling’s frown deepens.They have spoken about what happened in the Guanyin Temple together, and he’s… confessed his confusion in how to process things. His uncle trying to kill him. Zewu-Jun killing him. It was all very complicated, but at the heart of it, he knows Zewu-Jun was just as much a victim as all of them, even if he was close enough to his uncle to be sworn brothers.He genuinely knew nothing. He cannot fully blame him for killing him (if you count what happened as anything other than an accident).“He’s going to be my teacher,” Jin Ling declares, swiftly sweeping everything he can fit under a very large rug. “And if I am correct, he is to become my uncle’s friend too. It’s within my interests to ensure that he is healthy enough to do both these things. Also,” he says, “He is your uncle, and an ally to Lanling Jin, and a good person.” He’s the one I named my dog after. That’s as high an honour as I can give to a person. “I want to help him.”After a moment, Jin Ling feels Jingyi’s gaze turn to his own book, and the lightening of the space between them is like fresh air pouring into the room. Without looking, he knows he is smiling. Before he can forget — “Fairy,” he calls, and immediately the dog leaps to attention, tail wagging madly. Jin Ling fights the urge to coo, and wedges the letter in between her teeth. “Good girl. Go take this to Uncle.”Off she goes, and Jin Ling watches with a smile. Be good to your dog, be good to the messenger. Same thing, right? Trust and help, he thinks, two things that come unasked for with good friends. Turning back to the boy beside him, he raises his eyebrows at what he finds. “What are you doing? You slacking already?”“No, I’m… I’m listening,” Jingyi says, as though that makes any sense.“Listening? Listening to a book? Are you stupid?”Tsk. Jingyi waves him off. “Leave me alone. I’m just messing around. I... I need a break.”Clicking his tongue back at him, “Shameless.”Listening to a book. Ridiculous. Jin Ling assumes he probably means that he knows the book by heart and doesn't need to read it. What is the book? A storybook. How childish.Jingyi carefully strokes the fragile page of an old, tattered book. The fond smile he gives it blows away Jin Ling’s irritation, and as he continues to study, Jin Ling smiles to himself. He can’t stop himself staring. The visit is at such an odd timing, and of all people… he wasn’t expecting him to show up. Somehow Lan Zhan has managed to dress himself in the time it took him to open the door, so now it’s just him in his inner robes, hair a mess and mouth hanging open— “Close the door, would you?”He does, twisting around to keep his eyes on this man. This person he thought he knew, who has fooled them all for years.Nie Huaisang greets Lan Zhan quickly, then tucks his hands into his sleeves. No fan to fiddle with. A nervous gesture, or merely an act? For him to come here and then be behaving so timidly, Wei Ying notes that neither he nor his husband take their eyes off him, even though with his cultivation level he is hardly a threat. That is perhaps the only thing about him that is as he claims—the fact that his core remains poorly developed. Doesn’t mean his mind isn’t though. That one is perfectly formed. That is the thing they have to look out for.“Why are you here?”“How did you find us?” Both questions come at the same time, and Nie Huaisang twists his sleeves as though they were the ones who sought him out. “It would be better to speak here is why,” he stammers, eyes flitting between them. “As for how, I… I heard about you two causing trouble in this village. Apparently you got involved with a skirmish?”Skirmish? “Hardly,” Wei Ying says, frowning. “A beggar was being beaten up. We stepped in.”“You’re aware that beggars are not always beggars?”[1]Wei Ying narrows his eyes. It’s almost as though Nie HuaiSang has been with them all this time, listening to their speculations about the Beggars’ Sect, and has decided to contribute to the conversation they weren’t aware he was part of.“Sounds like you know something we don’t know,” he says. “Also, I’m starting to wonder how our business with the beggars has made its way to you.”The man before him finally stops fidgeting with his sleeves and looks a little annoyed actually. “If I’m talking to you about this, doesn’t that tell you how I am involved?”This causes both of them to halt. So far, Nie Huaisang hasn’t admitted to anything, and no evidence has been found—not that anyone is really looking. In any case, the end of Jin Guangyao was celebrated in conjunction with the Yiling Patriarch’s reputation being amended, then came all the dirty laundry to be aired out about the deceased, then the partnership of Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian broadcasted, and then and then and then… Nie Huaisang was truly the most masterful of them all, or was he just lucky to have the spotlight stolen from him by so much other big news? Maybe it was his tenure as the cultivation world’s resident head-shaker that made his genius and cunning seem like mere coincidences, covering up his true nature.But now he admits it?“You are associated with the Beggars’ Sect?” Lan Zhan clarifies. No frills, no hesitation.Nie Huaisang doesn’t flinch (surprisingly), but only pales a little. Still, he looks oddly determined. “I may have had dealings with them in the past.”“And now?”“Look,” he says, surprising Wei Ying again with the urgency of his tone. “My business is my own, and that’s not what I have come to talk to you about. I came here because I thought you two might be in trouble. The beggars you talked to, can you remember what they looked like?”The two of them exchange a few looks, but to be honest, whilst he’s highly suspicious of Nie Huaisang right now, the way he’s behaving has him intrigued. Wei Ying gets to work sketching a couple of rough portraits of A-Lan and the drunkard, then describes them to Nie Huaisang, who studies both drawings before tucking them into his sleeves. “I’ll have them checked out.”Wei Ying purses his lips. “Are you going to tell us why you came here now?”“I heard you were here, and that the man you drew just now, the one with the beard… I’ve been told that you’ve come here to ask me about something.”Again, they share a look—told? How does the drunkard know? They didn’t say anything about their travels, and yet he correctly predicted they were planning to fly there and the purpose of their visit. “So, what was it you came to ask me then?” Nie Huaisang asks, sinking into the desk chair. His arm immediately comes up, hand opening to prop his chin in. Wei Ying cannot help but stare at him, confused. Baffled by his odd behaviour. It’s so out of character that he doesn’t know what to think. Has he come to confess, or come expecting to be forced to confess?Honestly, neither he nor Lan Zhan are much bothered to reveal what he has done. It would only risk causing another cycle of plotting and bloody revenge, which they are both quite tired of by now. He turns to see Lan Zhan looking equally as puzzled, though he seems to be considering the man before them very carefully, his assessment taking a while to reach a conclusion. Finally, he nods.That’s all the permission he needs. Honestly, Wei Ying feels completely fine going on Lan Zhan’s judgement here.“We’re here about Zewu-Jun,” he says and sees no surprise on Nie Huaisang’s face. In fact, he looks like he’s been expecting this. Eyes go to Lan Zhan, then fall to Bichen. It dawns on Wei Ying then, that he has come with less protection than even he is wearing right now, currently dressed in just his inner robes. No fan, sabre. Nothing.“Xichen-ge,” he murmurs, wilting in his seat. He closes his eyes, and Wei Ying again notes how meekly he is acting, as though he is expecting them to pounce on him (and is inviting them to do so??). “What about him?”“We think he may require Qinghe Nie’s expert advice.”That has his eyes springing open again. Then Nie Huaisang grips the table ledge and turns from one to the other, his skin turning even slightly green. “Advice? But surely you don’t mean—Xichen-ge? But… but how?”“You tell me,” Wei Ying mutters, and then he tells him all they know: his symptoms, his spiritual energy (or lack thereof), all the things they’ve been looking for and finding. There’s no point hiding it from him anymore if he has come to them like this. When he turns his back to leave them, they can kill him right then and there if he even hints at sharing the information with anyone else. Of course, there will be lots of consequences from that, but it’s two of them against Nie Huaisang. Basically, Wei Ying isn’t worried at all. When he is done, Nie Huaisang shakes his head, but comes out with an actual opinion, even if he doesn’t know, which impresses him somewhat. “That doesn’t sound right,” he says slowly, brow creased in thought. “And you know that it doesn’t match the symptoms, so what did you come to me for?”“For something better than ‘that doesn’t sound right’,” Wei Ying admits, quickly losing gratitude. “Like some actual answers.”“You think it’s a curse?” he asks himself, plucking at his lip. “Doesn’t sound like a curse. Curses are messy and leave traces behind. I’m assuming you haven’t sensed anything on him…”“You got anything better than guesses?!”Nie Huaisang blinks. “I… I can come to assess him if you want. I’ll be willing to do that if… if I’m allowed.”Lan Zhan is left with deciding, which he does in his usual peculiar way. “Wedding.”Perfect! Wei Ying snaps his finger at Lan Zhan's wooden expression, “Good idea! The wedding! Huaisang,” he calls. “We’re getting married. You’re invited and you’re coming.”“Oh, I—I am?” Again, his head spins around madly, but he looks rather delighted. Again, not a hint of surprise on his face. Wei Ying can’t help but sigh. It seems that everyone else really did know about them even before he did. Is he really that oblivious? “Oh, that's lovely. Congratulations? I’d love to come—”“You can bring attendants,” Lan Zhan says, explaining the reason, as though it wasn’t obvious. “Experts.”Nie Huaisang nods, still looking pleased. “Of course, and I’ll… what else can I… how can I help otherwise?”Now Wei Ying gets it, and it seems Lan Zhan got it immediately—Nie Huaisang has come here like this, meek and vulnerable, offering help and exposing his dealings, because he knows no other way to earn their trust. All of that stuttering and stammering, and Xichen-ge, and… he’s come to them for forgiveness. He would doubt it if it weren’t for him literally having no motive left to deceive them. At least none that he can think of.Unless…“The Beggars’ Sect,” he says. “Explain your connection to them and why you came here so quickly. Why would we have trouble with them?”He bites his lip but nods after a moment to gather his thoughts.“I know them and what they’re like. There are good people and not-so-good people in that Sect, and I… I have done what I had to, to get the results I needed. Revenge needs planning. Years of revenge needs even more than that, especially when you’re looking to knock a man like Jin Guangyao off his throne. Eyes and ears in every place, ready to catch every possible slip. I gathered whole rooms full of evidence and would have kept digging if it weren’t for the dangers in doing so.“It won’t surprise you to learn that Jin Guangyao’s own spy network intersected the Beggars’ Sect on many points.” Nie Huaisang leans back in his chair then—this little motion revealing him to have a quiet confidence he would never have expected him to possess. Cold, yet factual, and utterly unlike his brother. Impressive and unnerving, coming from the infamous Head-Shaker. “Su She and Xue Yang were ones he groomed himself, but there are more that he inherited from his previous mentor.”Wen Ruohan.“He became a benefactor to several groups and made long-term agreements with many of those agents. As far as I know, those promises and plans include back-up plans to be executed in the event of his untimely death. You see, he was always preparing for every eventuality.” He pauses here, lips thinning and eyes turning slightly glassy. “He knew the risks of being found out.”Wei Ying grunts, grabbing an apple off the bowl of fruit and crunching into it.Nie Huaisang flinches at the sound, but continues: “I’ve been informed that a list has been issued.”Oh, he doesn’t like the sound of that. “A list?”“I haven’t seen it myself, but I assume it’s of the people they should seek for ‘compensation’,” he answers. “Or those that need to be dealt with to tie up loose ends.”Wei Ying’s mind spins with the implications. Loose ends? “That compensation sounds a lot like revenge to me.”“Sure does.”Revenge for Jin Guangyao, not out of any personal attachment (or so he assumes), but for compensation of the loss of business. Eventually, Jin Guangyao managed to become a real Jin, with all the wealth of a king. Had he foreseen that someone would try to kill him, and had he wanted the insurance of having them killed in return? Would he have ever thought it would be his own sworn brother who did so? All of the questions, and none of the answers matter. In the end, whether it’s for money or a tooth for a tooth, sometimes the promise of revenge is enough motivation in itself. To some people, the promises he’d made, now broken by his death, were probably deemed worth killing for. What a world they live in. “You say there are good people in the Beggars’?”Nie Huaisang’s smile is wry, “They are nothing like the good my brother would vouch for, but they are the ones that work for me if that counts for anything.” Then, more seriously: “I can have them trace the list backwards, and hopefully we can… get them before they get us? Is that a good idea?”Well, it’s not good in the traditional sense of being upright and honest about things. ‘Get them’? Wei Ying isn’t bothered by what that implies, but he can sense his husband’s apprehension. He shoots him a look, trying to ask him: is it not worth it, to ensure your brother’s safety? To ensure our own? He said ‘before they get us’, after all, and he doesn’t doubt their names are on that list too.Jin Guangyao would have known to be thorough, and mete out every possible punishment to the ones he would expect to uncover his secrets, and even if he hadn’t named names—their involvement in the business at the Guanyin Temple was common knowledge now.“What else have these good beggars been talking about?” Wei Ying asks.“Oh, lots of things, lots of things—ah, you mean about…?”“Are you dumb? About Zewu-Jun of course!”“Well… well, it’s really no different to what you hear everywhere.” Eyes dart towards Lan Zhan anxiously, “People say he’s become sick from grief, o-or mad with grief, or… there are a lot of rumours that are mere speculation, but those are the types that are most easily spread. There is one which claims the ghost of Jin Guangyao is haunting him. Actually… I wonder, could it be due to the time he was held hostage?” Turning to Wei Ying with bright, intelligent eyes, “Could it be an effect of having his spiritual pathways sealed for so many days?”Wei Ying shakes his head, but Lan Zhan answers: “Cultivation base is too high. Such things would not harm him permanently.”“Huh, well… I’ll get my people to check for curses then, just in case,” Nie Huaisang mutters to himself, idly chewing his thumbnail.It doesn’t feel right for him to ask it, but Wei Ying finally asks: “How do we know we can we trust you?”It’s the question that has been on the tip of his tongue all this time.Before, he’d felt secure knowing that he could deal with Nie Huaisang, should he turn against them later on, but now with this spy-ring working beneath him… all this time, Nie Huaisang has been describing Jin Guangyao’s arrangements, but they’d be fools not to think he must have prepared something similar up his sleeve: a whole network of people briefed on what to do, should he mysteriously disappear.Nie Huaisang’s face crumples, his composure shattering almost audibly.It shocks him so badly he takes a footstep forwards, apple-holding-hand outstretched towards him. This is, after all, his old friend, who was a part of his youth. He looks so naked without his fan. With no mask left to hide behind anymore, as he covers his face with his hands, they tremble.“Why would you trust me?” He lets out in a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Why would anyone trust me after I hid like a turtle in its shell for ten long years. I know what I look like, how untrustworthy I am. Why would you trust me?”“That’s what I’m asking you,” Wei Ying snaps, ignoring Lan Zhan’s warning look. “Try to be a little more convincing.”“I don’t want to be convincing. I want to be me. I want to be Huaisang—A-Sang, whose brothers are all alive and well.” His eyes spill over, nose wrinkling and turning red. “I can’t go back, and I w-wouldn’t even if I could. It had to be done, but still… you have to believe that I never meant to hurt Xichen-ge— ”“Why should we believe that?” Lan Zhan says icily. “After your actions forced my brother to kill.”He nods. And then he nods again, shoulders curling up as he wraps his arms around himself.“Of course. Because I… I wanted to blame him at first. To blame everyone I could except myself for not seeing things before it was too late, but how can I blame Xichen-ge? After all, I trusted A-Yao for the longest time just because he gave me nice things… he was blind, your brother,” Nie Huaisang says to him. “But so was I. He trusted him just as I did, but not for any reward. So I suppose that… when I made plans, I didn’t think to protect him.”“You thought he deserved to be punished, but what about you?” Wei Ying asks, feeling sick. Whilst he knows that somewhere behind that smile of his, Lan Xichen still resents how his presence in Lan Zhan’s life has caused him pain, since returning to life Zewu-Jun has shoved his own feelings aside to make room for him, if only to make his brother happy. Wei Ying wouldn’t even need that excuse to want to protect him, but then—there are other reasons.The fact he was a good person was one, that he was someone precious to Lan Zhan another, and that he helped bring up A-Yuan were all big factors. But for Wei Ying himself, the fact that he’s been forced to watch him suffer for a full year is enough to make him feel protective.Even after only a few days, he’s sure Jiang Cheng has been similarly affected.“Can’t you see? I’m trying to take that blame back. I want to make things better. I’m… what do I know about trust? All I have known is revenge, but my plans are complete—I… I have no right to be unhappy.” Nie Huaisang blinks away tears, looking utterly lost.“I said to try and be more convincing, Huaisang,” Wei Ying says, frowning more out of concern this time.“Oh god, but what if…” the man whimpers, covering his face. “Did I do this to him? Is what’s happening to him my fault?”“Huaisang!” He snaps again, losing all patience now. “We need answers, not more questions.”He can’t seem to hear him now. “I want to help him. I want to help Xichen-ge who took care of me all this time… and why wouldn’t I want to help you? Are we not friends?”He sounds half-hysterical, muttering to himself and sniffling and looking truly pitiful. Seeing him like this makes Wei Ying shudder inside, remembering a simpler time when the worst he did was help Huaisang cheat on his exams, and the only punishment waiting for them was being disciplined with wooden rulers.“When have you ever known me to be ambitious? Please believe me—beyond revenge, I wanted nothing.”“But why are you still meddling with the Beggars’ Sect then, if you know who they are capable of? Especially since, as you said, with your plans complete, what reason do you have for doing so?” he has to point out. “Doesn’t exactly sound like you’re planning on giving up that life.”“How can I?” he cries, spreading delicate hands out. (Nie Huaisang needs a fan is all he can think, his looks weird like this.) “My hands are tied. Once you shake hands with the devil there’s no going back. I cannot wash clean from ten years worth of dealings, especially now there is this list to think about.”It makes sense. If there’s anything he can empathise with, it’s getting in too deep and recognising that point where going back is impossible. This underground world is not one he is familiar with, but he can imagine the trouble that comes with being in it for so long. Part of you feels like you belong to it. Part of you feels like without it, you are nothing.“And that’s not the only thing. After all this mess, the Chief Cultivator seat is still empty.” Nie Huaisang grimaces. “No one wants the responsibility. At the same time, everybody wants it. You’d be appalled to learn what goes on behind-scenes when nominees are being ranked…”This is not the friend he remembers, nor does he recognise any part of him now, but there is still something between them that he cannot throw away. There is the fact that to some degree, he understands his motives, even if he disagrees with his methods. There is the fact that it would be wise to keep in his good graces, knowing now what type of company he keeps.But also… there is the fact that he can see a genuine longing in Nie Huaisang’s face, to return to a simpler time where he can have people who trust him (and who he trusts?).And it hits very close to home. It is almost too familiar for him to bear looking at. The loneliness of realising you are unforgivable. The rock-bottom you hit when you realise there is nothing you can offer anyone, and begging is the only option.“What would make you happy, Huaisang?” he hears himself asking quietly.Again, he bites his lip. “Helping,” he says then. “Helping you, and Xichen-ge. Living a quiet, peaceful life. I want… I just want the chance to make things right. Then perhaps, when my time is up, I can bear to face my brother without feeling like the absolute scum of the earth.”“For those like him, there is no such thing as an afterlife,” he cannot stop himself from saying. “He won’t be waiting for you when your time comes. You won’t face him again unless you intend to dig up his grave—”“Wei Ying.”“—where I doubt he’ll be resting in peace. Huaisang, you do realise there is no way you can expect Xichen-ge to forgive you, and that anyone who has ever known Chifeng-Zun would say that he would struggle to accept what you have done to your so-called friends?”It is barely audible when he replies: “I know.”“And you would still offer your help? For no reward but—”“For no reward!” He declares, springing upright, with fire in his eyes. “Just… just…” His throat clicks, resolve wavering. “Can you not give me the mercy of being able to pretend?” Are we not friends? What a lonely, lonely place to be. He really does look miserable.Lan Zhan clears his throat. “Alright.”He stares at them as though he doesn’t understand the word. “Alright?”Wei Ying claps his hands. “Get it done: come to the wedding, bring a present, then—no forgiveness, no going back, but we keep on going. Sound good to you?”The man looks lost, yet hopeful, and nods hard enough to rock the chair. There is nothing left to say, so Wei Ying shows him out. The only thing Nie Huaisang stops to mention before he leaves is that they ought to leave quickly now that they have spoken. Don’t hang around the Unclean Realm for longer than they have to—people are watching, and a lot of eyes are following him these days. He doesn’t need to elaborate any more on this. The list.Wei Ying hums to himself, turning to his husband. “What do you think?”He walks over to stand by the chair Nie Huaisang vacated, every movement thoughtful and precise. “He has changed.”“We’ve all changed. I meant about the list. I meant about the curse. He doesn’t think it’s a curse, but well, I don’t know what to think anymore,” he laughs humourlessly, tugging at his hair. “If it’s not qi deviation, if it’s not a curse, then what the hell is it?” Shaking his head, Wei Ying gnaws on his lip. “Ah, this gives me deja vu. Remember Xinglu Ridge? And here we are again: you, me, and Nie Huaisang, the three of us talking about this stuff…” Lan Zhan’s heavy gaze dissembles his smile. “Let’s go back.”“Back? Back to Gusu? You must be kidding. The only place I’m going back to is bed.”“Wei Ying.”Looking up from shedding his clothes, with a ready smirk pasted to his face, Wei Ying stops at his name spoken like that. He holds himself still and waits for his heart to settle. Hands fall to his shoulders, warmth builds behind his eyes, and he keeps hearing his own voice again and again. No forgiveness, no going back, but we keep on going. Sound good to you? It does not sound good at all. It’s no relief, no kindness, and yet they offered it as though it were. It’s what he has told himself many times.“Wei Ying.”That voice will never fail to bring him back. Even now with one leg in the bed, he stops again and breathes. No thank you’s, no sorry’s. It might not work for others, but it works for them, right?(Right?)For some reason his mind flicks back to that stupid dream, and Lan Zhan’s beautiful eyes blurs with those demonic yellow ones glowing in the dark, that seemed to freeze his blood. He cannot make heads nor tails of it. What he was being accused of. What he was being told to spit out. That voice was not his Lan Zhan, who never has to say more than his name for him to know what he means these days. That gentle gaze that holds him is nothing that he fears. A little nudge. Are you alright? Speak to me. It’s fascinating how Lan Zhan can say so much without words.“You’re right Lan Zhan,” he finds himself babbling, shoving shoes and clothes on in that order. “So stupid of me to want to sleep at a time like this. Let’s go, let’s go.” He hurtles off the bed and tries to flee the room, feeling every inch the coward he is.He is grabbed, spun around, cocooned in the most comforting embrace, and… it falls out of him, the steadiness he had when he was confronting Nie Huaisang, who for all his deception and trickery he wants to trust. Because he really has no one. No brother, no lover, no children, literally no one but his own Sect. And he came to them knowing this, bearing himself like that, and he took their scolding, and he…
Can you not give me the mercy of being able to pretend?
“What right did I have to speak to him like that? Shameless, right?” Pressing his face in his husband’s chest, “How long can I keep hiding from the world? Can’t I just stay here with you?”“You’re not hiding. You never hide.”He doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s true, he shows his face—he takes the blame he has earned, he keeps walking with his eyes on the horizon. His head raised, if not held high. But sometimes… sometimes he feels like he’s running, rather than walking.And not dwelling on the past feels like hiding. And not letting himself apologise over and over feels like saying what he’s done is acceptable, when he knows very well that it’s not.“Do you think I’m a good person, Lan Zhan?” he asks softly. “A good person who has done bad things, or a bad person who has done good things? Which one?”“Doesn’t matter if it’s you.”He laughs then. “Is it really that simple? You’re so biased, Lan Zhan.” His smile wanes. “And what about him?”Lan Zhan hums. “Brother would say… to give him a chance.”Wei Ying sighs, shaking his head. “You look at what he has done, and sometimes wonder… how far does it go?”“Hm.”But it’s no use pondering any further. Just like he has been given a chance, Lan Xichen is a man who lends out second chances to all sorts of people, opening his heart to any and all, it seems. And just like that, the decision is made. After all: who would know better what action should be taken on Lan Xichen’s behalf than Lan Zhan? Break his legs. Break everyone’s legs.That’s what he keeps saying, but then he goes ahead and kicks a tree, breaking his own damn foot. Then he soaks his feet in a pit of ice and expects not to lose them, like the idiot he is. It’s a wonder he can even walk, so he shouldn’t be ashamed to hobble. No one is watching anyway, as he has chosen a secluded area far away from where the disciples tend to hang out.Here, on a low, humble bridge, he paces back and forth, stomping the pins and needles out of his swollen feet, feeling all sorts of wrong.He woke up wrong, that’s why. For years he hasn’t dreamt of much. Instead, he’s had nightmares or passed out from exhaustion. He’s grown used to spending his nights either trapped in his own personal hell or blissfully unaware of his own existence, but never like this.This, he thinks. What even was it? Triggered from the events of the night probably, he’d closed his eyes last night and saw the pond.He’d dipped his feet in, and the next thing he knew—he was grabbed by the ankles, dragged down into the depths, and found himself sinking into a deep, never-ending darkness. For those who know how to dream, they would let the dream guide them thereafter, but whilst this would probably be classed as a nightmare for someone who cannot swim, he is as at home in water as any fish would be.And he has forgotten what to do in dreams, and so he tackled the situation as though it were real life.The first lesson every Yunmeng disciple learns is how to not drown if you’re pulled underwater. What is taught is that the trick is in holding your breath and not struggling. Survival relies on remaining calm, and so—he held his breath, he went lax. Usually, you would swim to the surface when you run out of air, but well… he didn’t. So he waited in that darkness, waiting for something to happen. Peaceful in the murky waters but knowing that he was waiting for something. Then he saw through the surface, a blurry face.And then he woke up. And there was a stack of actual adult-sized clothes waiting for him this time. Unable to refuse the kindness, he chose to wear them until his clothes were at least dry (not that they’d be any bit more comfortable after all the abuse they’d undergone during this trip). And then he found, tucked in the folds, a soggy letter with a note attached. You were sleeping, Uncle. He replied. Dog slobber everywhere.Jin Ling will have a good scolding to look forward to the next time he sees him.He read the letter. He tore it open with no hesitation, knowing what was coming.But he was wrong. There was no mention of his own letter. No rebuff, nor request for him to get lost. Instead, Lan Xichen’s own apology stared up at him, polite as ever, dripping with sincerity: I hope you can forgive me. Clearly I presumed too much. It was not my place, signed Lan Xichen. (Signed Lan Xichen.)He despaired. It was too kind. Polite, but not distant like his own apology. Did he misread their situation? Did he, perhaps, overreact? And has he now fucked up yet again with him?? Both Lan brothers—both of them, he has insulted now. And yet they continue to give him clean clothes to wear, and let him stay in their home, and allow him to keep on fucking up. Was this mercy or madness? Jiang Cheng hissed and stormed out to walk his frustrations away. For the hundredth time, he now clutches at (but doesn’t crease) the letter in his hand. It reads to him almost as though the fault lies with Lan Xichen—as though he is trying to take the blame for Jiang Cheng’s lapse in control. He pauses again. It’s like he’s trying to reach for him halfway in this, even though it should be all on his own effort. Jiang Cheng finds that maddening. Jiang Cheng finds him perplexing. Jiang Cheng finds himself questioning when the last time anyone was so tolerant of him, or so willing to extend his forgiveness where he didn’t deserve it?Instantly, the childhood memory springs to mind, but that is a half-lost wisp of the past he can hardly keep clinging onto.There are more recent times that he can recall, the countless times he has upset Jin Ling with his inability to be patient (or gentle, or nice) with him. The fact Jin Ling didn’t hold that against him was its own forgiveness. There are older times too that he hesitates to remember, with Wei Wuxian (and A-Jie), where his bad temper had been laughed off, and it had just been accepted that he was that way.(Where they would dog-pile him afterwards, when he was left floundering and hating himself, and between A-Jie’s warm embrace and Wei Wuxian’s endless yammering, Jiang Cheng would dare to think himself understood.)Lan Xichen’s kindness is of a different brand though—like the rain for the fact that it doesn’t matter to him who it falls upon, and he lets it be scattered to the wind to all who need it, and even to those who don’t deserve it. Jiang Cheng tilts his head to the sky, the thick braid he’s temporarily wound his hair into swinging over his shoulder and coming to rest in the groove along his spine.There is nothing he can do now but try and meet him halfway. The thought of facing him makes Jiang Cheng want to jump on Sandu and fly away immediately. The only things stopping him are his goddamn feet.And the fact he promised his brother he’d stay for the week (to keep an eye on Lan Xichen, god fucking damn it). And perhaps, the fact that there is a little voice in his head saying: You’d better not leave this until the wedding! Won’t it be awkward enough for you to have to face him during that type of… of ceremony, with this hanging over your head?It makes him want to scream, because yes—it will. It will make things so fucking awkward. Even more awkward than they are now.This is the number one reason why he avoids people, because people come with all sorts of problems, and it’s never worth the trouble. Lan Xichen is more difficult than most because he will probably let this go, whilst Jiang Cheng will go on feeling like the stone in his shoe. He asks himself, why does he matter?Why should it bother him what Lan Xichen thinks of him? As of now, this ‘friendship’ of theirs is barely days old. It is easily broken, easily forgotten, or abandoned to the wayside.He can sit and wait (like he did in his dream) for things to move on.He can become one of Lan Xichen’s regrets, same as he is to the few who have ever taken a chance on befriending him and ended up being put off by his overly brash and belligerent personality. He can greet him at the wedding and maybe see him once a year after that. He can let a distance grow between them, and go back to not giving a damn about calligraphy, or art, or anyone other than his sect and family… and everything will be fine.Nothing will be too different from how it is now. Returning to Lotus Pier, he’ll be the same man he was when he left. In fact, he will be more himself than ever, having done exactly what he is famous for doing: leaving a bad taste in other people’s mouths. If it’s what the people expect, who is he to disappoint them?Jiang Cheng scoffs, and almost, almost scrunches up the letter, to be tossed into the stream running below him. But then… he doesn’t.Why does he hate the idea of it so much?Why does the thought of leaving things as they are put a bad taste in his mouth?Maybe because he’s trying to approach this the same way he would a business deal gone wrong, when really… try as he may, to think of it that way, this isn’t anything to do with work. He came here for his brother’s wedding, and with that in mind… what (is?) will Lan Xichen be to him? A brother-in-law’s brother? Isn’t that still a brother-in-law??Either way, there is more tying them together than their Sects’ alliance now. They are already (or will be soon) sort-of family.Really, saying that his concerns lie in ruining good relations between Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan would be wrong as well. Jiang Cheng knows this has nothing to do with their sects. Thus—he knows it’s not something that should require so much from him, and force him to think and think and think like this, is a waste. And yet he does so anyway.He cannot help it.Lan Xichen’s own words come floating back to him. You wouldn't be thinking about him so much if you didn't care. Gazing solemnly at the frothy white water, Jiang Cheng yelps as a sudden gust of wind tosses his hair back over his shoulder—smack. The weight of it smacks him across the face, and he splutters. This is why he keeps his hair in a bun, goddamnit! He snatches the braid and growls, holding it before it can batter his nose again. Thank god no one was around to see that! The wind rises, lifting the hem of his borrowed robes and causing them to billow out. Jiang Cheng feels like he’s about to take flight with all the many layers he is wearing caught in such a strong breeze. The collar pulls and slides, and he ducks his face away from the cold. A warm scent fills his nostrils, smooth and woody. Heady and sweet.Is that fucking sandalwood? is what he wants to know, having learnt far too much about what his brother’s husband smells like. It’s not like he goes around sniffing perfume bottles, so he has no idea if it is. Jiang Cheng wrinkles his nose and switches to breathing through his mouth, disgusted by the thought of smelling Lan Wangji.Anyway, where was he? Fumbling with his braid, smoothing the uneven ends around his fingers till they tumble apart, he returns to admiring the lively running waters—until the breeze decides to bring it for closer inspection, whisking the spray up to wet his knees. That’s when Jiang Cheng thinks: fuck it. He’s had enough of nature for today. He storms across the low bridge to the other side, but before he can make it to the courtyard, his aching feet remind him he’s in no condition to be stomping around. He drops heavily on a mossy bench—only for his tailbone to protest loudly at the abuse. “Fuck it,” he snarls, scraping his hair out of his face. “Fuck, fuck.”What is with this, he wants to know.The connection between everything is so indistinct. He doesn’t know why he cares so much. It’s not like it’s anything important. It’s just… there are things that Lan Xichen has given him in not even a handful of conversations that he’s never really had before, and he would hate to lose them. Ideas he has put in his head that confuse him and that make him wonder about himself. Is he talented? (I couldn't help noticing that your brushwork is exceptional.) Is it worth pursuing? (I hate to see something good left forgotten.)Each passing phrase has stuck with him, for reasons he cannot explain. My friend, haven't you ever considered doing something purely for the pleasure of doing it? Even though every way he looks at it, there’s no reason for him to care so much about so little, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s stupid to place so much value on another man’s words, at the same time, it’s—
Thank you for your thoughtfulness.
Startlingly sincere. Earnest, and… Jiang Cheng shudders against the wind, clutching the robe in a fist pressed to his chest, under which his heart thuds heavily. He endures the gale whipping his fringe into his eyes and grimaces, digging fingernails to bite into the meat of his thumb.It’s pathetic is what it is. (He’s pathetic to put so much stock into... into… )The thing is, it’s funny how the little things like… like someone saying you write nice can make you want to write nicer. How someone sitting through endless rambling rants (and actually engaging in them) can make you feel like your ideas are worth listening to. These things are more than Jiang Cheng has had in years. Even before all of this shit happened.Maybe… when he was younger, when he was desperate for even the slightest bit of recognition—having someone see all the effort he was putting in and tell him you’re doing good might have just helped him. After all, a little can go a long way.(Could’ve gone a long way.)After all this time, how ridiculous to still be so affected by his insecurities. Here he is—a man in his thirties, poking at old wounds like a child with a scabby knee. (And perhaps… considering finally bandaging them?) Jiang Cheng rubs a hand over his mouth, absently bringing the letter to brush against his nose. His eyes cross to focus on the first word on the page: Jiang Wanyin.Really, what is he even thinking right now? It’s not as though the choice lies with him anyway.All he can do is… give it his best shot. Ask to talk to Lan Xichen. Apologise to him in person. See if he’s willing to give them another chance. Trying is key. So long as you try, you cannot fail.Because he can’t deny it anymore. He wants to make at least one friend before he dies. Pretending it was like any other business was stupid because this… this is personal. This is just for him. And unlike when flaying (presumed) wannabe demon cultivators’ halfway to death with Zidian was also just for him, this is completely different.Bright and new and untainted by any lingering resentment. There are no expectations on him either way, no repercussions should this fail, because he knows they will at minimum remain civil about things. Even his current successes in reconciling with Wei Wuxian cannot compare to this untouched-snow phenomenon. How daunting yet exciting it is to embark on something truly unsullied.All this time, on his quest towards ‘moving on’, he always thought it was a path he would walk mostly alone, with his only goal being to leave the past behind him. He didn’t care what lay ahead of him, but now… with tentative hands, he is reaching towards something he cannot see. With his fingers curled around an increasingly-more-crumpled letter, he has hope for less of an existence and more of a life in his future. He can almost imagine it: beyond separation, days that don’t necessarily have to drag on, but are filled with the little things. Hope for more than merely the sake of hoping. Dreams of actually being there. Jiang Cheng’s lungs deflate suddenly, eyes falling shut. This is just for him, but at the same time, it isn’t. Perhaps in his own small way, this might just help Lan Xichen a bit, and the thought of that… makes him feel good. Really good.There’s nothing for it then. Just as he starts to lever himself onto his feet, someone behind him pokes him in the shoulder. His reaction is immediate. Zidian unfurls as he spins around, arm raised to unleash it.The boy screams. Jiang Cheng yells. But it’s too late to stop it now, the momentum swinging— Two identical sizzling whips snap in perfect synchrony, crisscrossing over the head of the cowering young disciple to meet in the middle. The intersection of both halts Zidian’s strike. Jiang Cheng retracts his whip instantly, gasping for breath. His eyes land on both women briefly, before he staggers forwards to grab the child by the shoulders.“What the fuck? Are you stupid?!” Spinning him around, he checks him over for burns. Even being close to Zidian’s lightning can be harmful when provoked. “Did it hit you?” Ouyang blinks owlishly, trembling from head to toe. It looks like his soul has actually been scared out of his body! Jiang Cheng can feel the Spiders’ amusement pouring from their eyes. “Answer me!”“N-N-No…”“It didn’t? Then I’ll give you a beating and teach you a damn lesson! Aren’t disciples taught to approach Seniors from the front? Sneaking around like this…” he scolds, slapping the boy onto the bench. Finally, he turns back to his audience. “What are you two doing here?”Linzhen scoffs, whilst Minzhen calmly winds her whip back around her waist. “Sect Leader decides to leave without any warning. What else should we do but come here?”“Did something happen?” The thought of Lotus Pier falling apart without him is laughable with these two and Zhizhong there to keep things in order. (Well, it’s either laughable or absolutely terrifying.)“Our Young Master gone missing is what happened,” Minzhen says sharply, scanning Jiang Cheng up and down, and seeming supremely unimpressed to find him intact.He sighs, but he knew at some point this would happen. “I will return on my own. You can leave.”“We’re here now. Why not accompany you back?” Linzhen asks, folding her arms.There’s no use arguing with them. “We’ll be leaving soon then, but before that, I have something I need to do.” “Like eating? And,” wrinkling her nose, “Bathing?”Minzhen looks somehow even more unimpressed. Even a little bit offended. “What happened to your clothes?”“Never you mind.” The answer has both women raising their eyebrows, which he ignores. He will have to get back into his own clothes again, preferably before he goes to see Lan Xichen. Jiang Cheng grimaces at the thought of putting on the ruined robes, but it can’t be helped. “What are you looking at me for? Go bother Jin Ling instead.”“But why would we want to bother A-Ling?” Linzhen asks with wide eyes.So it’s okay to bother me? he wants to ask, but holds it back, just barely.“Leave me then. I have business to attend to.” (Like thinking up a strategy to fix this damn thing. Give him hunting formations to plan any day, but planning out conversations? Trying to be social? Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know where to start with that.)The Spiders raise cupped fists, “Yes Sect Leader.”The two are deliberately mocking him, or at the very least judging him, but Jiang Cheng is used to this by now. Just as he is about to walk off (definitely without hobbling this time), he remembers Ouyang (who is still staring blankly ahead) and sighs. “Wait—you two! Before you leave, both of you, take uh... take that one with you. I think… I think I may have broken him.”
You speak of the truth, but who are you to speak of it? What do you know of it?
More questions to chew over. More salt to the wound.Lan Xichen leans heavily against the door, already exhausted simply from having dressed himself to go outdoors. Jin Ling’s visit earlier this morning drained him of any hope that today would be a good day. He wanted to go out, maybe take a walk in the gardens, but now?It’s an effort just to stand. He feels so… heavy. Suffocated by the cold realisation that these are questions he still has no answer for, even after all this time. He’s seen Jiang Cheng’s anger plenty of times before, but always directed at someone else. To have it focused on himself was… sobering.Truly, the man holds nothing back. What does he know of truth? Only that despite him staring at a compulsive liar, and for all the years it has stared back at him, he did not recognise what he’d been seeing. Mingjue-xiong told him (warned him) about what crimes their youngest sworn brother was committing, and he put it down to his spy-work, or even sometimes blamed it on the sabre spirit messing with Mingjue-xiong’s perception.What a mess, and how ironic… if he were as brave as Wei Wuxian, he might laugh at himself.But it is truly pitiful, to realise how little he knew, and how ignorant he’d been. A while ago, once—when he was buried so deep in his own mind that he wasn’t responding to a single thing, Wangji told him about the tragedy of Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing and Song Lan, and he… he’d cried. He’d cried so hard, in fact, that he felt like his soul was shattering. The pain was unbearable, and their story… parts of it were almost like looking into a mirror.It hadn't felt right to compare himself to the noble Xiao Xingchen, but he could see how his literal blindness was similar to his heart’s blindness, and he could acknowledge his own naivety to a certain point.But he had no excuse like Xiao Xingchen, did he? He’d been a man of this world for over twenty years when this happened, whilst Xiao Xingchen had only stepped down into the mud of the mortal world at the tender of age of seventeen, and couldn’t possibly have known how to deal with a person like Xue Yang in the short time he’d known him.And so he was deceived as Lan Xichen was deceived, and played a fool for so many years.But the difference was… in the final act of Xiao Xingchen’s life, he killed his dearest friend. That he hadn’t known until afterwards was what struck Lan Xichen deeply. That neither he, nor Song Lan, nor little A-Qing managed to survive the hellish situation they were forced into was what made him jealous, because —Ah, but he’s not meant to think like that anymore. No, no, he is meant to… what is he meant to do?Grieve or let go? Accept or not accept? No... not that—what was he meant to be doing just now?Ah yes: go for a walk. But can he walk? Is he well enough to walk? Will he have the energy to return afterwards?Lan Xichen withers under the barrage of self-assessing checks he runs through, each one a question he has been told to ask himself before even considering doing anything. By the end of it, even though he is pretty sure he’d be okay to walk, any desire he previously had to peruse the gardens has mostly vanished. Exercise is exercise though, and he said to Wangji, didn’t he? That he wants to walk to their mother’s house as often as he can so he can get stronger.Who cares if he doesn't find it appealing or not? Enough of these damned thoughts, he tells himself firmly, enough feeling sorry for yourself. It’s time for him to get better—After cracking open the door, he sticks his head out. Good. Both junior disciples are gone. Probably for food. Growing boys eat a lot, and after a severe scolding from Uncle about the consequences of malnutrition, they have been put off on the idea of practising inedia (for now). He takes a few steps out onto the path leading to—Oh.Lan Xichen blinks.Straight across from him is a… an odd sight.At first glance, he thinks it is a senior disciple. A poorly dressed senior disciple, with their robes in a dishevelled mess and their hair twisted in a messy braid, and… and no forehead ribbon?! But then it absolutely cannot be a Lan disciple if that is the case, and so Lan Xichen squints to try and see who it is. The distance is too far though, and a sudden gust of wind has his eyes blurring.The man gets smacked in the face. With his own hair.Water is thrown into the air by another rush of wind, spraying him all over. He leaps to his feet like a startled cat and storms over to a bench further away from the bank, and by this point Lan Xichen knows who it is by the stern march of his stride, but then he lets out a string of curses and… Lan Xichen bites his trembling lip.What are the chances? Oh, but he shouldn’t be laughing at him though. Jiang Cheng looks quite distressed, like he's thinking about something difficult—that’s… that’s his letter in his hand, isn’t it? Could it be that he’s somehow upset him further?? But how? He only apologised for being too forward. What could Jiang Cheng possibly find so disagreeable about that?Lan Xichen tries to read the emotions flickering over Jiang Cheng’s face, but to be honest, it is all very similar. Subtle variations here and there that do not reveal much. All he can tell from the hard lines of his shoulders is that he is conflicted, but then he… he relaxes quite suddenly. Closing his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Is he going to meditate? He looks lost in thought—Oh. Oh no. Little Ouyang tiptoes over to the bench, hand jerking back and forth as he ponders how to gain this Sect Leader's attention. Behind him are two tall women, and though Lan Xichen hasn’t seen them before, he immediately recognises that they are Jiang Cheng’s faithful bodyguards: two Spiders hailing from Meishan Yu, who were sent to him after the end of the war.They were renowned for being of the exactly same ilk as Madam Yu had been—incredibly skilled high-level cultivators with a strict work ethic built on high standards. They are warriors more than cultivators, and due to the Meishan Yu Sect’s ancient lineage and it being the last predominantly nomadic sect, their unusual customs are only known based on passing observations.What is known is that theirs is a matriarchal society, they are fierce and deadly, their favoured weapons are whips (hence the ‘Spiders’), and that they can be very, very reactive when provoked.Lan Xichen watches, as if in slow motion, as Ouyang poke Jiang Cheng's shoulder, and every droplet of Meishan Yu blood in him instantly springs to life. Zidian releases. He spins around mid-jump in a pirouette. Ouyang screams. Jiang Cheng yells. The Spiders snap their whips out.Lan Xichen breathes a sigh of relief. Though the boy is literally quivering in his boots now, he has managed to escape death by a hair’s width!Across the distance, he can just hear Jiang Cheng’s voice rising… but the way he checks Ouyang over reminds Lan Xichen of the way he tends to panic over Jin Ling. It is exactly the same motion ingrained into him, right down to the solid slap he gives Ouyang which knocks him to sit on the bench. Jiang Cheng converses with his guards, and then with one last glance at Ouyang, hurries away.Immediately, both Spiders raise their heads towards Lan Xichen. Numbly, he lifts a hand in acknowledgement, and they dip their chins. Goodness, but Jiang Cheng must really be distracted to not have noticed Lan Xichen gawking at him from not even half a li away! He cannot help but watch the two women escorting a very pale Ouyang away, unable to stop until their purple robes flutter out of sight.Lan Xichen slowly closes the door again.So apparently he’s not going outdoors today. Even with them gone (and of no threat to him in the first place), watching that whole display was enough to drag his available energy down to ‘below ideal’ levels, which wouldn’t be sufficient for a proper walk. He cannot help but wonder what brought the legendary Spiders here when they tend to stay in Lotus Pier most of the time. Could there be an emergency, or are they simply worried about Jiang Cheng being gone for a while?Their dedication to their Master is quite impressive.From what Lan Xichen can remember, shortly after the war Jiang Cheng’s aunt—his mother’s cousin, who led Meishan Yu after his grandmother retired—sent him three disciples to assist him. It was all she could really offer him. After all, they were from his mother’s sect[2], and though Meishan Yu was well-known for being intolerant of the male-dominated perspective the cultivation world has prescribed to, they could probably see that it would be doing Jiang Cheng no favours to help him out too much.Two were these women, and one was to become his head servant. By the time they were sent to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng had already recruited a large number of his new disciples, but these three were adamant on pledging themselves to his service. Well.Lan Xichen shakes his head, stumbles over to his bed, and sits for a while. That just then gave him a good distraction from his melancholy, but his mind… there is nothing in particular eating away at him, and yet something is trapped in him—or perhaps, he is trapped in something? Whatever it is that he is tied to, he figures if he cannot do walking meditation, he might as well take a walk around in his mind.Meditation the right way, Lan Xichen tells himself, breathing in deeply and then out. Focus on the physical, then gradually remove all barriers one by one, spreading open your field of awareness...Ah.It’s not quite as good as the method he prefers. In fact… it isn’t meditation at all. Not in the way of cultivating anything. His core remains locked and withered inside of him like it’s been for months. Still, Lan Xichen reaches out, if not with his conscience, with his heart he…He imagines finding that place.He remembers how it would soothe him to stand on what seemed to be the edge of the world, and look out towards a blue horizon, and leap off into the sunset. Jumping from peak to peak, dancing among the clouds. He cannot reach that place anymore, but he can pretend to—drawing from memory, the bliss of drifting endlessly above the stars.
Rain patters on his forehead. On his lips, nose, and cheeks.
Lan Xichen opens his eyes and smiles, seeing that his imagination is rather good. Everything is pretty spot on. Though… he doesn’t usually end up near a pond, but it’s probably just due to the fact that it is familiar to him that he has chosen to recall it. He is sat by the water, fingers stretching out towards a nodding lotus blossom—
A-Huan!
He drops his arm.
Something or somebody slams into him. Lan Xichen tumbles into the arms of a… a woman? This person who dropped to her knees in front of him and dragged him into her lap…! He has half the mind to push her away, but her hold is too tight.
It suddenly occurs to him that he is smaller than usual. Child-sized. This is no childhood memory of his though, and the other thing he is certain of is that this woman is definitely not his mother.
“You’re h-hurting me…”
The woman’s grip loosens enough for Lan Xichen to turn to the side and gasp for breath. During his flailing, his arms fly up to catch on something soft, which he pulls closer to him for examination.
Hair? Long dark, silky hair that it spills through his fingers like smoke. Lan Xichen stares, transfixed by it. He combs his fingers through, and through, and through… there seems to be no end to it. How strange.
This must be a dream then. Could he have fallen asleep during meditation? Squirming against her shoulder, she doesn’t seem willing to let him go. Lan Xichen twists around to try and see what she looks like in the water, but finds—it’s just him. Nothing but his own reflection amidst a blanket of twinkling stars. There is no one else there beside him. He sees this with only a muted sense of panic, because if it’s a dream then… what does it matter?
“Are you a fairy?” he asks, expecting to be laughed at for this.
He continues to gaze down at the water. It looks like there’s something there, just below the surface. When he blinks, the water ripples. Or actually, it doesn’t. Not due to him blinking at least, but because… turning to the woman again, Lan Xichen feels her shuddering against him as she weeps. Her tears fall into the water, disturbing it drop by drop.
“Why are you crying?”
Please... forgive me, she gasps, pulling him close again. I never meant for any of this.
This feels a bit like Inquiry. Lan Xichen smiles gently so she can hear it in his voice. “Why are you sorry?”
It’s all my fault. There's no way to stop it. He’s chosen you now.
“What are you talking about?”
They’re going to try everything they can, she says, stroking his cheek tenderly, but you’ve got to be strong. Trust in your heart.
“Madam,” Lan Xichen says, reaching up to halt her hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Please, explain.”
I’m counting on you. This is the only chance to fix this.
A little frustrated now (a little frightened too), “Fix what?”
Instead of answering, she reaches up around him for something. Lan Xichen cranes his neck, just in time to see a shine of a blade headed towards him. He throws his hands up to shield himself, but the blade whistles past his ear. Then something tickles his cheek.
Looking up, he sees in one of her hands holding the dagger, whilst hair flutters all around him. She cut it? She cut her hair?
A-Huan—
Lan Xichen jerks awake.His first thought is: what on earth was that? because somehow he is lying flat on the bed now, and it’s evening. Someone has brought him dinner and lit the fire, and hell—he’s confused. He was… “But I was…” Lan Xichen shakes his head, slowly sitting upright.When he does so, something feels distinctly wrong. He isn’t quite sure what it is until he frowns. Then the crease of his forehead tingles, and Lan Xichen reaches up to touch it. When he does so, he finds his hand bound by something. His forehead ribbon? Oh, he… he must have pulled it off in his sleep. He sits for a while, trying to make sense of the dream. It had to be a dream now—he’s sure of it. The woman, the starry pond, the… the hair. And then, he’s chosen you now.
This is the only chance to fix this.
What does that mean? What is he so… so bothered about? Sure, it was a rather strange dream, but why should it mean anything?Lan Xichen stares at the thin strip of cloth coiled around his trembling fingers and asks himself this for a long, long time.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself?"
— Rumi
Not only is Jiang Cheng uncomfortable mentally, but his clothes itch and rub roughly against his skin. Along with that, they are saturated with the smell of damp, which puts a very sour look on his face. All in all he’s not feeling great, and from the way the disciples he is walking towards are looking at him, it must show. After saluting him, one bravely steps forwards, “Sect Leader Jiang, are you here to see Zewu-Jun?”What else? Jiang Cheng lets his presence speak for itself.“Ah, but Zewu-Jun… Zewu-Jun isn’t feeling very well. He won’t be receiving any visitors today.”“Mmph.”To be honest, it’s not a surprising answer. What is surprising is the way his body floods with a heady amount of relief and disappointment. It should not be possible to experience both at the same time, but somehow Jiang Cheng manages it. He squints his eyes at the two in front of them. “One of you is missing,” he observes.“Ouyang,” the first pipes up, lips twitching.“The small one?”Nodding, “Our youngest shidi.”Jiang Cheng was told he’d been checked over thoroughly and that he was fine, but it was his lack of control that scared the wits out of the boy. “Right,” he pauses as his gaze slides over to the door, where somewhere inside, Lan Xichen isn’t feeling very well. “Right then. I’m off.”“You’re leaving?”“That’s what I said.”“Safe travels, Sect Leader Jiang!” the taller one calls, but just as he bows—“Excuse me.” The door swings open, nearly knocking the boy over. Jiang Cheng side-steps neatly as he stumbles to regain balance.All eyes turn towards Lan Xichen who… really isn’t looking well at all. Eyes ringed from lack of sleep, complexion pallid and smile rather strained. He looks worryingly frail. (It’s funny how time can stretch and constrict according to where you are and who you’re with. For some reason, it feels like he’s not seen him in ages, but it’s only been one day! It makes no sense considering that he went a whole year without seeing the man.)“Sect Leader Jiang, did you say you were leaving?”“How many times must I repeat myself?” he blurts automatically, thrown out of his musings by Lan Xichen’s silvery voice. Fuck, he thinks. “No, um, what I mean was yes. And thank you. For your hospitality, and uh… look, I’ll wait for your brother’s return before leaving—”“But if you’re going to be here a while, won’t you join me for some tea before you go?” Lan Xichen asks pleasantly, holding open the door and beckoning him in with an elegant flick of his wrist. This type of gesture, Jiang Cheng has learnt, isn’t really giving him a choice. He reluctantly follows him inside and frowns, pursing his lips when he spots the dark smudges on the seats set around the table. The smell of incense wafts over, drawn out by the pull of outdoor air. Sweet and rich. Again he wonders to himself, is that sandalwood?“Forgive me, but about your robes…” A wisp of displaced air trails behind Lan Xichen as he passes by, dragging the sweet scent with him. Before, Jiang Cheng would have been mortified at his appearance, but now that enough people have seen him in a far worse state... his face has grown thicker in many ways. Watching him fetch the teacups, Lan Xichen turns around with a mildly amused look. “Was there something wrong with the ones I sent you?”The robes he sent him? His mind stutters at the thought. But also—he's so, so grateful that it wasn’t Lan Wangji’s clothes he’d been wearing, that he takes a moment to praise the heavens! Except, it’s not much better to have borrowed from Lan Xichen either, is it? Jiang Cheng wills himself not to think about that too much. The embarrassment that crashes over him when he can’t help himself agreeing with Wei Wuxian (sandalwood does actually smell pretty nice) is bad enough. “No, but if I’m leaving I cannot keep wearing them,” he points out. “Had I known they were yours, I would have returned them to you myself.” A thought occurs to him. “But how did you know I’d be needing spare clothes?”“Young Master Jin told me there was an accident,” he says. (Jiang Cheng bites his cheek. It’s hard to say whether he should punish Jin Ling for saying anything at all or praise his quick thinking!) “I must apologise for all the trouble you’ve had during your stay. If you want, I can send for your clothes to be properly cleaned and mended—”Jiang Cheng smirks. “You Lans really can’t stand being messy, can you?” Wafting his hand, “Don’t bother. These will be made into rags when I get back.”“Ah, well then… here,” Lan Xichen says, offering him a small towel. Jiang Cheng stares at the towel, then looks blankly at him. The man sighs, but tosses the towel over Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and runs it over his head. Jiang Cheng bristles, hackles rising. What the hell? “You need to dry your hair properly,” he explains, massaging the scalp.“Y-You! I’m not a child. Give me that!” Jiang Cheng sputters, snatching the towel away. Of course his hair is still wet! He took a quick bath before this, the nagging words of his Spiders compelling him to. He scowls at Lan Xichen, scrubbing at his hair—“Not so rough,” he chides, rising up on his knees again. Jiang Cheng rears backwards out of range, eyes narrowing at the smile that spreads over Lan Xichen’s face. The man relents after a few more dodges. “Be gentle,” he chides, eyes dancing.Who the hell is he to tell him how to… (Suddenly Jiang Cheng is hit by a wave of nostalgia. Don’t be so rough. A much younger Lan Xichen prising the soap bar away from his tiny ink-stained fingers. Gently, he’d said, showing him what he meant. He took over clean-up duty with a much gentler touch, fussing over the places where Jiang Cheng had rubbed his skin raw.)Jiang Cheng brushes the memory aside, trying his best to ignore its effect. When he looks at Lan Xichen, for a moment he catches a glimmer of that child he met so long ago, lit up in the twinkling of his eyes, like dust motes caught against gloomy shadows.“Are you alright?” Lan Xichen asks in concern, startling Jiang Cheng once again. The smile on his lips does not register as a smile. “Please excuse me. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I’m an older brother after all, but this time I was too forward.”Jiang Cheng sneers, “Yes, you absolutely were. And you know what?” What? he can practically hear Lan Xichen’s pitiful expression ask... to which he has no answer. “…never mind.” As silence falls, Jiang Cheng internally panics.He has been expecting this from the moment he stepped foot into the room, but nothing could have prepared him for how it pervades every inch of his being. It somehow even manages to make drinking difficult! It is eerily similar to pretty much every single matchmaking session he has ever had the misfortune of enduring. From the thin smiles to the tea, to the avoiding eye-contact, to the awkward fucking silence. The thought of that automatically prompts him to look for the nearest available exit. Or a distraction? A distraction would be good.But of course, there is nothing around but Lan Xichen and him. Hence, Jiang Cheng takes the slowest sip in history as he assesses his current options, only to glance sideways and find—Lan Xichen looking straight at him! Smiling again, but differently this time. Jiang Cheng might even say it was fond if he was able to pick up on nuances. It makes him pause. Often when he and Wei Wuxian are together, Jiang Cheng finds himself frustrated with him. Not just because he’s an annoying person to be with, but also because the Wei Wuxian returned has a rotten memory.Sometimes though, he’ll turn and find his brother grinning at the same thing that caught his eye; or he’ll reference something that throws Jiang Cheng back twenty years, and both of them will take the time to carefully unearth one of their childhood memories, like two kids digging for buried treasure. Could Lan Xichen be remembering him too? But it’s such a forgettable meeting, the details of which are so obscure… Jiang Cheng turns back to the matter at hand. It takes a minute for him to coax his face away from its usual sneer, then another for him to prepare himself for what he is about to say. Jin Ling’s lilting voice echoes in his head, remember jiujiu, be nice, with the Spiders nodding sagely beside him.“Zewu-Jun,” he says, turning the teacup around in his hands. “I came because I want to explain my behaviour the other day. I want to make sure I don’t leave you under the impression that I meant any of it. Please forgive m—”“But haven’t you apologised already?” Lan Xichen muses, his warm tone instantly breaking the ice. “Once is enough.”Jiang Cheng shakes his head firmly. “That was hardly adequate.” If Lan Xichen dwells on what he said for too long, it might affect his condition. Knowing that, the least he can do is properly try to ease his heart.“But it was written beautifully,” he protests lightly.(Is he serious?)“I’m not talking about the way it was written!” (You idiot! Thinking of calligraphy still?!) “I’m talking about the fact that—look, do you understand what I mean when I say that what we are writing to each other isn’t really matching up to the way we talk?”After a moment, Lan Xichen shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. Please explain.”Jiang Cheng drops all formalities here. If Lan Xichen insists on acting like an idiot, then…“You,” he points at him, “Are being nice to me. Too nice to me. The letter you sent? What the hell are you apologising to me for? I’m the one who shouted at you! And with the way you’re behaving now, it’s as if you weren't even there! What was I supposed to think when I read that, huh? The way you're behaving, it’s pissing me off!”Lan Xichen seems taken aback. “How would you like me to behave then?”“I don’t know! Be angry with me? Tell me to fuc—to mind my own business?”Lan Xichen nods a few times. Then he asks something that Jiang Cheng was not expecting. “Answer me this, are we friends?”“Are we…” The question throws him. Is this for him to decide alone?? “Yes?”“Good, that’s good," Lan Xichen smiles, "Then let me tell you this, I don’t believe in such a thing as being too nice. I am grateful to have friends who are concerned for my wellbeing—”“That wasn’t concern! That was… that was—”“Also, you obviously meant what you said,” Lan Xichen says, pinning Jiang Cheng with an oddly intense stare. “You were honest with me. You told me what you thought, and what you said… I’ve been waiting a long time to hear someone say it. I’m rather glad that person was you.”What he said? What did he say??“Not even Wangji will broach the subject with me. It’s as though he thinks that merely discussing it will be too much for me to handle. As if being left to think about it alone isn’t worse…” Grimly, “You asked me, what do I know of the truth? The answer is: very little, and for my ignorance, I deserve every scolding.”Oh right. He said that.“Because I’ve come to realise that I really don’t understand people as well as I’d like to think,” Lan Xichen chuckles. (Jiang Cheng shivers at the sound.) “I only saw what I wanted to see, and not what was really happening. I tell myself that I had good intentions at the time, but good intentions don’t excuse the fact that I… I really am the world’s most reprehensible, most gullible idiot.” Through all of this, Jiang Cheng hasn’t so much as moved a single muscle. It’s no wonder that no one wants to talk with Lan Xichen about such a sensitive topic. The space between them feels brittle, crisscrossed with a thousand tripwires. This is not what he came here for. He came here to apologise. He came here for tea. Not to talk about something so... so...“I don’t think I’m the person you should talk to about this.” “Really?” Lan Xichen asks. “That’s funny because I think that you are.”It’s not funny at all. Jiang Cheng really, really cannot understand how they went from having tea to this.“You’re the type of person who will tell me what you think, whether I want to hear it or not. I would prefer nothing to be spared on this matter, and for that—a person like you is needed. Someone who is different, who won't hesitate to say it like it is."It's vital to be this way, so that… so that I can finally let it go, for once and for all.” Turning to Jiang Cheng, it feels like he’s handing him far too much. Like he’s pouring water into his cupped hands and expecting not a drop to be spilt. “Or at least, I can begin the process. Will you help me?”He sputters. The thing is, he can recognise this as the same thing he had for a long time.The urge to have someone to speak freely with, but when he was left with no one... after a while, that urge withered and died, and he was glad to be rid of it. Here, he can feel a tension building. The soft rain of Lan Xichen’s kindness had watered that dying flower, but it has been unknowingly growing in this direction—towards dragging out the past and discussing it! How could he have not seen this coming?! Now the time is upon them, and Jiang Cheng finds himself unable to refuse. Will you help me? How can he refuse that? Are we friends? Seriously! How can he refuse that?But still… he has to save some face first!“I literally tell you that I don’t want to talk about the past, and now you’re asking me to do that very same thing?” Jiang Cheng throws at him. The sneer returns, providing some support. “And not only that, you’re also… you’re basically asking me to blame you, aren't you? What if I don’t blame you? Will you be satisfied with that?”At first, he thinks Lan Xichen hasn't heard him, but then he sets his cup down and folds his hands neatly together. His voice is utterly calm. “It doesn’t matter whether I am satisfied or not. I would value your opinion either way.” (Is this man serious?)The idiot thins his lips. “But don't you blame me? I would have thought you would.”“No!” Jiang Cheng exclaims. “Why would you think that? It’s obvious that you were deceived, just like the rest of us. You cannot be held responsible for something that wasn’t your doing.” Seeing him about to protest, he blurts out, “This really is what you want, isn’t it? To have someone denounce you!"The thought is unfathomable. Who would denounce the First Jade? Who would dare? But there he sits—placid as a lake, his posture impeccable, his countenance serene... he really can't understand it. Why would Lan Xichen ask for this? Does he really think it will help him? Before he can second-guess himself, Jiang Cheng snaps, "Well you know what? Just for that, I’m going to prove you wrong!”(Lan Xichen’s face lights up. He’s a fool, Jiang Cheng thinks. A moth to a flame.)And so he begins dissection. The carving out of old infection. The severance from misplaced guilt and sorrow.Stabbing a finger at his face, “To start with—about those good intentions you had, when it came down to it what did you do? You defended him at first, didn't you? You gave him every chance to explain himself, but when push came to shove you still raised your sword against him. You didn’t allow your sentiment to keep on defending him. That must count for something.”“With the evidence there, what else could I do?” “It’s better than condemning a person without concrete proof for what they’d done.”Silence again.He hadn’t meant to bring himself up for comparison, but it's only natural for him to fall back into thinking about this.When it comes to reconciling, a lot of things have been brought up between himself and Wei Wuxian, but even more have been left untouched. Forget it. It’s all in the past now. Let’s not mention it again. Jiang Cheng is painfully aware of how his own ignorance widened the rift between him and his brother back then, giving others the chance to take advantage of his insecurities and turn him against him completely. He’s aware, and he’s pretty sure Lan Xichen can guess who he’s talking about without needing to think too hard. He’s been told his face makes a very distinct expression whenever he thinks about Wei Wuxian. Like eating unripe fruit, Jin Ling told him once. For all the fact that his brother is happy with letting bygones be bygones, Jiang Cheng has always struggled with grudges. You tell him to let go of something, he’ll only hold on tighter. But looking at Lan Xichen right now, thinking about his situation… if he leaves him like this, those four words he said to him will always haunt him. Have you no shame? It's not fair on him. He has to press on. With this in mind, Jiang Cheng loosens his grip ever so slightly. Let this be the last time they speak of such things. After this, let them leave the past in the past, for once and for all. “You did the right thing,” he says firmly.“Maybe I did, but to kill my sworn brother, I can’t stop asking myself, why? Why did he do it? What could possibly have been worth killing so many people? Including his wife, his son, his…” Lan Xichen buries his forehead in his palm, mouth trembling. “Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not asking you to give me an explanation. I know that you can’t do that."It’s just that sometimes I feel like I’m going mad searching for answers where there are none. Beating a dead horse, but for what reason? It’s not as though understanding will make things easier, and yet…”“You’re not beating a dead horse. You’re just beating yourself,” says sharply, causing Lan Xichen to duck his head. “You may not have understood him, but compared to the rest of us, didn’t he say he never once thought of hurting you? So it's possible that deep… deep down somewhere, buried under all that coldblooded ambition, he had a heart. A heart which he only showed to you.”It makes him feel sick, forcing himself to actually say that. It's not like he really believes it, but sometimes a little sweetness is needed to open the mind towards being receptive. When the fingers the First Jade was gripping the table with curl into a fist, Jiang Cheng wonders if he may have gone too far. Should he maybe back off? After all, if this is something Lan Xichen has been struggling with for over a year, it’s not likely that his input will change anything.(But then he remembers how the mention of him having talent sparked an interest in calligraphy that he would have sneered at years before; how the suggestion of entertaining joyful pursuits has softened him to the idea of a life that is more than living day to day. Little things, he reminds himself.) Finally, Lan Xichen sighs. “That heart he showed me… doesn’t that mean that as the last sworn brother, I should repent on behalf of my kin?”“Then tell me, exactly how should you repent, Lan Xichen?” he demands. “If you insist on bearing the consequences with him, are you willing to waste the rest of your life on regret? You said it yourself: one apology is enough. One year has passed now, so let that be enough.”Each sentence drags Lan Xichen lower and lower, till his shoulders are hunched around his ears, and his fist clenches tight enough to pack a decent punch if it were thrown. This is the part cutting out the most painful thread in his heart. It's hard, painful work. He clicks his tongue.“Sitting there, punishing yourself for not understanding how that traitor’s mind worked. Is it any wonder he trusted you?”“But why did he save me? Why would he push me away?”“You want to know why? I’ll tell you why. It’s because even when he was committing the most unspeakable crimes, he could look at you and know that at least one person didn’t think he was completely despicable. Even now, the fact that you can’t hate him completely is for that same reason. He is the luckiest dead bastard of them all to have someone who misses him so much, even after all the things he’s done—”That’s when Lan Xichen hurls the teacup against the wall.Jiang Cheng follows its arc sailing through the air and is hit with a sense of deja vu. If it had been thrown with more force it would have exploded everywhere but instead, it rolls around till it breaks into thirds. Jiang Cheng holds himself perfectly still. Though the beast of his anger has been roused, interested in Lan Xichen’s violent outburst, it also waits, curious to see what will happen next.Finally, Lan Xichen covers his mouth with a trembling hand and motions at him to continue. (For the first time in his life, Jiang Cheng thinks: could the First Jade secretly be a masochist? Asking him to keep on going when he’s already like this, as though he thinks this interrogation is an exorcism that will cure him.This reaction was already like coughing out the bad blood, but if it’s been expelled then it’s out. Why keep on coughing? He’s struck by the bitter realisation that this is what actually Lan Xichen wants from him. For Jiang Cheng to be ruthless enough to keep pushing him on, even though… even though he doesn’t want to.Maybe it isn't like he thought—he isn't the healer cutting out an infection. Maybe instead, like a Discipline Whip, his role here is actually to break Lan Xichen down.It doesn’t matter what he wants. In the end, Lan Xichen is relying on him to be harsh, because he knows that with the type of person Jiang Cheng is. Once he's committed to a task he’ll always follow through. It’s no wonder he said he was right for the role. You’re the type of person he'd said, because something like this won’t be difficult for someone as unfeeling as Jiang Cheng, will it?He laughs coldly at the thought. Fine then. He’ll keep on going.)“Even now, you think of him as a person, don’t you? You want answers for what he did because it doesn’t make sense to you how he could do what he did and still have been your friend.”“How else am I supposed to think of him?”“If you were me, you’d say he was a monster and leave it at that,” he says, unable to stop himself from curling his lip, remembering the way Jin Guangyao justified his reasons in the temple. His eyes gleamed with a vengeful madness that Jiang Cheng recognised all too well. “To me, it’s not that I refuse to think of him as a person. It’s that I literally cannot see him as one.”“So why is it good that I can?” The hand muffles his voice but doesn’t hide his anguish. “How can it be a good thing for me to know that a person can be capable of such evil?”“Because that’s what it comes down to in the end... people being people. As capable of good as we are of evil. Accepting this is one of the most important things, but it’s so easy not to when you’re… when you’re staring evil in the face.”Jiang Cheng swallows thickly, sparing a moment to think of how long it took him to reach this conclusion—something that even now he isn’t completely sold on.“You look and you tell yourself, I could never be like that, but then you end up doing the same, and you find out that you can. In fact, you might even be worse.” He grits his teeth when Lan Xichen drops his gaze. He doesn’t blame him. He wouldn’t be able to face himself like this either. “Deny, deny, deny, but in the end, you find out you’re just a person too.”It took Wen Ning throwing himself in front of him and Jin Ling in the temple to shatter Jiang Cheng’s beliefs, or maybe when Wen Ning held Suibian out to him and told Jiang Cheng the truth about his golden core. Ever since he’s had no choice but to re-evaluate everything. Question everything. Acknowledge how far he’s fallen. Face what he has become.“For fourteen years I’ve believed that everything I’ve done was right, or if it wasn't right, then it was at least justified.” Admitting this, he feels no shame. A tooth for a tooth is the type of thinking he was raised with. “But really, what I’ve done? It’s hardly righteous. It’s the same thing Jin Guangyao did. I sought my revenge against the enemy, only I did it in full view of the world. And when I hunted them down, I left none alive.”Sandu Shengshou was born from Jiang Cheng’s ashes. He burnt and came alive as a demon. To this day, he cannot forget the sharp thrill he felt hunting down the Wen-dogs and flaying them to ribbons with Zidian. And when they were all dead? That was when he found himself looking for more things to hunt. After Wei Wuxian died, his target became anyone who dared try to resurrect him. “We all did the same,” Lan Xichen says. “The atrocities that followed in the aftermath. It’s not on you.”“But you knew they were atrocities when we were doing them, didn’t you?” he asks, unlike me, who didn't give a damn either way. “Did you ever doubt for a second that it wasn’t the right thing to do?”“Of course I did, but we were made to believe we knew what we were doing. It’s easy to use the excuse of war to justify our actions. At the time it didn’t matter. So long as we walked on the side of victory, there was no room for doubt.”There hadn’t been a shred of doubt in his mind either that the Wens were evil. That he was doing the right thing by ridding the world of them. As he took countless lives to pay for the ones he'd lost, indiscriminate of who was guilty or not guilty, he did not care who fell under his blade. Wen Ning and his sister, who he realises now, are part of the reason he is even alive today. He didn’t spare them a single thought.Without thinking, he shares another part of himself:“One time I went to the Burial Mounds. This was before the first siege. You know what I saw? A bunch of tired, hungry people digging in the dirt. Not one of them raised a hand against me. Not one of them could.” It’s something he did not let himself think about when he was drawing up the battle plans. His concentration was solely on mapping the access routes he’d spotted during that brief visit. He knew exactly how to trap them, like foxes in their den. “There were women there. And children. The elderly, and the sick—”“I know,” Lan Xichen says quietly, hollow eyes cutting into him, “You don’t have to tell me this.”“But all I saw were Wen-dogs,” he tries to explain. “Wen-dogs everywhere. All around me—my enemies. The people who killed my family. That was all that I could see.” Wei Wuxian had stood there, yammering on about farming and building houses, raising consciousness and living in that cursed place, and he’d thought his brother was a fool (and a traitor) for harbouring such dreams. “There was a child no taller than my knee. A boy I met on that visit, who stuck to my leg and wouldn’t let go. He had no idea who I was, and I didn’t care who he was, and it… it certainly didn’t stop me when the time came…” Jiang Cheng lifts his steady gaze to take in Lan Xichen’s horrified expression. “A child, Lan Xichen.”The boy came to mind only moments after the siege when tears were streaming down his cheeks from the glare of the explosion that had ended the Yiling Patriarch’s life. Ears ringing, mind and heart scattered with Wei Wuxian’s remains, he'd scrambled around blindly in the dirt and came across a small burnt body. It’s only now, years later that he even dares to think about it.After a moment Lan Xichen asks, “Why are you telling me this?” Jiang Cheng doesn’t really know why. He lost direction the moment he started talking about the Wens, or even perhaps before that. He closes his eyes and tries to think of a reason. “Why am I telling you this?” he mutters and shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe to give you some perspective. Maybe to remind you that you’re just a person too.”Lan Xichen nods slowly. “I see.”“It’s understandable that to you, one mistake must seem like the end of the world. But if you think about it, I have done far, far worse, and yet I’m still here. If this world can tolerate a person like me, then there’s definitely room in it for people like you.”He blinks. “People like me?”Waving a hand, “People like you, people like Wei Wuxian. Your brother too.” Smiling grimly, “The ones who will always see the good in others, even if they cannot see it in themselves.”Lan Xichen looks a little stunned by this but quickly recovers. “I definitely see it in you,” he says, shocking Jiang Cheng this time.Then he scoffs, shaking his head. “Let me prove you wrong again then. Answer me this: how much do you think Jin Ling knows about the war? Aside from what he’s read from books, how much do you think I’ve actually told him?” Silence hangs for a moment. “Surely he must know about his parents…”“Of course, but I’ve only told him that they died because of the Wens.” Clenching his jaw against the swell of memories, “And when I learnt that wasn’t even completely true, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him about it. Do you know that I’ve been telling him that since he was a baby? How can I possibly admit to him that I’ve been wrong all this time? How can I possibly explain to him something that I don’t even understand myself?” Until recently, he’d been operating under the belief that Jin Zixuan’s death was entirely Wei Wuxian’s fault. Even after all these years, he still cannot fathom how A-Jie was alive in his arms one moment and gone the next. It’s harder to accept that the first event wasn't planned, and A-Jie... it's anyone's guess as to why she was there at the Pledge Conference, but now Jiang Cheng smells a rat. Why? Because who stood to gain from both of them being dead?By chance, Jin Guangyao was able to reap the benefits of both their deaths, picking at their bones whilst Jiang Cheng remained none the wiser to his theft. “I wanted Jin Ling to hate Wens just like I do, but that was selfish of me, wasn’t it? To raise a child to share my burdens.” Jiang Cheng sighs, “But now that he’s been going on night-hunts with the Ghost General himself, and after having been saved by him... "On what grounds can I be the one to teach him right from wrong when I clearly cannot recognise it for myself?” Laughing again, “You know, I’ve followed them on a hunt once. Wen Ning is indeed a good teacher. Compared to me, he has far more patience.” His mouth twists. “In the end, he would be left to choose between his uncle or his friends if I were the one to teach him. Every word out of my mouth would be about what happened to me.”Because his account is inherently selfish. It focuses solely on what happened to him. To his family. To his sect. It pays no mind to others. For everything Jin Ling said about wanting to separate fact from opinion—Jiang Cheng can’t do that. He hasn’t been able to do that for himself, so how can he do that for someone else?(Everything is personal. To this day, a part of him is still screaming his anger to the world. I’m the only one left. The only Jiang, last of my blood. He cannot find enough breath to scream about anything else after that.)He would lead Jin Ling on a ruinous path, corrupting him with enough anger to permanently take root in his heart."You say that I'm good, but do you see what type of person I am?" Jiang Cheng asks. "Even now, it's more important to me to not let Jin Ling know, because if he did—"“But isn’t that understandable? You’ve been through hell.” A puff of air escapes him. “Haven’t we all?”Lan Xichen eyes him solemnly before fixing his gaze on the table between them. “Jiang Wanyin is too hard on himself.”Isn’t that what Lan Xichen asked for? Harshness and truth. No holds barred. That’s what he said. Truthfully, Jiang Cheng never intended for this outpouring of past grievances to occur. He promises himself, it will not happen again.“After saying all of this, it seems to me that you and I are not so different.”How on earth did he come to that conclusion?“We, who once used to view the world in black and white,” Lan Xichen explains, “Now see it in all its shades of grey, and suddenly everything is so much more… complicated.”Lan Xichen turns to look at Jiang Cheng, and that odd sensation returns—like he is seeing him through all his layers. Wanting to escape that scrutiny, he pushes his own teacup towards Lan Xichen and goes to pick up the broken pieces of the other one.Even with his back turned he can feel him watching, and when he turns back to check, the other man gives him a smile. Steam curls under Lan Xichen’s chin as he holds the cup tucked close to his chest. For some reason, Jiang Cheng finds he can’t look away when he takes a thoughtful sip. Every movement slow, yet graceful.“Thank you,” he hears and blinks back awake. At first, he thinks he’s talking about the cup. “I got you angry enough to break your cup and you’re thanking me for it?”“No, no, that’s not… that’s not what I meant,” Lan Xichen says, holding a hand over his mouth. (Is he laughing at him?!) “It’s because I finally got to discuss this with someone, and now I feel relieved. You’ve opened my eyes, you’ve challenged me. You’ve even proven me wrong like you promised you would, but this came at your own expense. It’s… it’s more than I could’ve asked for.”Thanking him for something like this seems pointless. Who thanks the whip for punishment? His words were freely given, and it’s not like this conversation hasn’t been a sort of mutual catharsis, even though it also feels like he’s vomited a whole stomach-full of blood for having confessed so much of himself. “It’s fine,” he mutters, scooping up shards and dust. “At least now I can leave with a clearer conscience.”“Oh? What do you mean?”Instead of answering him, Jiang Cheng studies the shards of porcelain in his hands.He’s broken a lot of things during his stay here. Even this cup, which was thrown by Lan Xichen’s hand, was driven by Jiang Cheng’s baiting. It really is time for him to leave. He turns to look at the desk which is piled with books and scrolls. Then he sees Lan Xichen watching him, and hopes that his contributions can do something towards helping him. Even if this isn’t qi deviation, maybe this can help the process of clearing out any lingering internal demons.“How much do I owe you for the inkstone?” Jiang Cheng asks curtly, eyeing the substandard slate-grey substitute with distaste. He tugs at his torn sleeves. “Or was my service today payment enough?”Lan Xichen hums, “Good counsel from a friend is not something that can be given a price.” He sighs, “And unfortunately the same goes for that inkstone.”“Was it that expensive?!” Remembering the beautifully carved dragon, Jiang Cheng suddenly asks, “Was it a gift?” Because that would understandably make it an irreplaceable, sentimental belonging. “Not exactly.""...""A family heirloom.”"…!"Lan Xichen immediately starts laughing.“Fuck,” he spits out, unable to stop his face reddening. An heirloom! Well done, Jiang Cheng, you just destroyed a priceless family heirloom! “It’s fine,” he insists, waving his hands in reassurance, but only managing to ruffle Jiang Cheng’s already ruffled feathers. “It’s definitely not!”“Didn’t I say friendship was priceless too? I meant it. Even if things are broken along the way, so long as it is what has led us to here,” he smiles, “Then I absolutely have no regrets.”"You...!" Jiang Cheng leaves the hanshi in a daze, feeling wrung out like a dishcloth. After that many minutes (or hours?) of spilling out his heart, he was sure Lan Xichen would be done with him. But then, to put to rest any of Jiang Wanyin’s concerns, he offered to prove to Jiang Cheng that the subpar slate inkstone worked just as well as his precious family heirloom.This led onto another calligraphy-painting session filled with them bickering over repayment for the inkstone, and comparing ink to ink (to Jiang Cheng's despair). He had no eye for artwork, so in truth, he could see no difference. But it was the principle of the matter.Jiang Cheng wasn’t convinced. But somehow, with his hands stained in ink, his chest feels strangely lighter.At this time of the afternoon, he expects Wei Wuxian and the Second Jade will have arrived back. Indeed, even before he sees them, he hears Wei Wuxian’s voice babbling like a brook. Stepping around the corner, he finds him with his arms wrapped around his precious Lan Zhan. Just as he is about to announce himself, Wei Wuxian lets out a long whine, chilling his blood.“Lan Zhan, you really didn’t have to bring us back so quickly,” he complains.“…”“I'm telling you, that man was harmless! Sure, what he said was a little, well… a lot creepy—”“He scared you.”“But it’s not normal to ask if someone had a ‘nice dream’! It’s not normal at all! But Lan Zhan, all of those people were strange, and yet we escaped without a problem.” Prodding him in the chest, “You. Are. Overreacting.”“I'm not overreacting.” Jiang Cheng panics when Lan Wangji hugs his brother and quickly scrambles back behind the wall again where it’s safe. “There are always people looking to hurt you.”"...""I'm not overreacting."“Ahh, you’re right I suppose. I guess it would be stupid to risk dying again just to have some fun!” Jiang Cheng looks towards the heavens. That is exactly the wrong thing to joke about. Especially with Lan Wangji. What an idiot.“Lan Zhan?” A rustle. A sigh. “Oh, Lan Zhan, I didn't mean it. Come on…”Unable to listen to this any further, Jiang Cheng rounds the corner. The moment he is spotted, he feels a shiver of dread ripple down his spine. Before he can change his mind though, his brother rushes at him full-pelt, dragging his poor husband behind him.“Jiang Cheng, you’re still here!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, sounding much, much too cheerful. He tilts his head, leaning close to study Jiang Cheng’s twitching face. “You seem happy! Did something good happen?”"Get out of my face.""What happened? You're almost smiling."“Shut your mouth. How did the mission go?” “But how can I shut my mouth and also speak?”“Wei Wuxian!”Lan Wangji excuses himself, no doubt intending to see to his brother (and escape from their squabbling). He barely spares Jiang Cheng a glance but looks more distracted than haughty. Wei Wuxian immediately stops his teasing and watches his husband leave with a rather complicated expression.Jiang Cheng can’t help frowning as well at his retreating figure. “What’s gotten into him?”Instead of answering properly, Wei Wuxian brushes it off with the excuse of ‘Lan Zhan being too stressed’ and there being ‘too many weird people for him to handle, and that’s me saying so’ until Jiang Cheng shouts at him to start making some sense. This prompts him to drag them over to the shade of a tree, where he then gives him a pretty bizarre report.Despite having listened to the whole thing, by the end of it Jiang Cheng finds himself focusing on one seemingly unimportant detail.“You’re saying you didn’t even manage to reach Qinghe? You couldn’t sustain flying for more than three hours?” The thought of Wei Wuxian being unable to fly such a meagre distance is nothing short of disgraceful! “And that’s the reason for you landing in that village?!”“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”“But you’ve developed a core!” One year on and he’s already managed to cultivate a core, which was an incredible feat if you think about it (though after Wei Wuxian tried to explain how Lan Zhan had generously contributed towards this meteoric rise in cultivation, Jiang Cheng very quickly stopped thinking about it). Jiang Cheng had seen his brother perform some spells, and overall his strength isn’t too bad considering. “It could be the sword,” Wei Wuxian muses, unsheathing his blade and holding it out to him. “See?”“You’re not using Suibian?” The sword was returned to him just like Chenqing was. Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to think about Wei Wuxian not carrying his beloved sword around with him. He has a lot of mixed feelings regarding Suibian, to be honest. “I’ve tried to, but it’s not cooperating with me. Do you think… maybe it’s been too long?” The man tries to smile, but his eyes are dark. “If you think about it, Suibian has two masters now, and of the two of us, you have more experience with a sword. Honestly, I wasn’t very shocked when it refused me. The poor thing must be confused! Or maybe it just doesn’t like me anymore? Ahaha…”Jiang Cheng takes the offered sword and immediately realises what’s wrong. It’s a Gusu Lan blade, perfectly designed for cultivation, but not suited for Yunmeng Jiang’s more agile sword techniques. Even flying will feel very different with the subtle difference in balance and design. He is no expert, but he knows that the way their swords tend to channel spiritual energy imitates the rivers their lands are famous for.Wei Wuxian could always learn the Gusu Lan technique, but his core energy is accustomed to surging forth like a fast-flowing stream, not billowing up like clouds ascending a mountain.“What are your thoughts on Nie Huaisang?”Jiang Cheng answers without pause: “He’s a lazy bastard who reads too much porn. Why?”He keeps flipping the unnamed sword between his hands, waiting for his brother to finish laughing. It feels so familiar, sitting beside him. Internally despairing at his lax attitude towards proper sword-care. Gossiping about old classmates. It bothers him though that Wei Wuxian appears untroubled by the sword dilemma, his carefree remarks making Jiang Cheng question if it’s a bluff. I’m not carrying my sword—what are they going to do about it? He cannot afford to keep thinking that way anymore. Not if he is intent on being Hanguang-Jun’s respectable cultivation partner. “From what you’ve said,” Jiang Cheng says after a while. “He’s got no reason to deceive us anymore. I can’t say if we can trust him, but I don’t suspect him of anything else. He’s never been ambitious, and Jin Guangyao is dead. Without him, the last thing he’ll look for is more trouble.”Wei Wuxian nods. “I agree. The most suspicious thing is the fact that he volunteered his help, but he… he seemed genuinely worried about Xichen-ge. Maybe it’s as simple as that.”“It’s not impossible that after all he’s been through, he simply wants the relief of no longer being misunderstood.”For some reason, Wei Wuxian risks draping an arm over Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. It's so ridiculous that he huffs. Ridiculous! His body is too short, so he has to lean up awkwardly. Jiang Cheng decides to leave him be. His arm will go numb and then he'll learn his lesson.“Jiang Cheng, you’re being so nice about this. I really don’t want to ruin your mood, but we agreed…”They agreed to try not to keep things from each other anymore. To prevent misunderstandings, no matter how awkward or unimportant it may be, the only way they can move forwards together is to try and be more upfront about things. Which is why, Jiang Cheng growls at his idiot brother to get on with it, stop dilly-dallying. But he is not at all prepared for what he says next.Core-stealing? When Wei Wuxian explains where the source of this rumour originated from, Jiang Cheng’s stomach floods with ice. He knew there was no way it could be kept secret.There were hundreds of people who came to the temple. Hundreds of people who would’ve asked. At Lotus Pier, there were those he’d brandished Suibian at, demanding they try and unsheathe it.He knew there would be repercussions when news about his core came out, but to have started something like this? It makes sense in a way. The fact that he and Wei Wuxian are the only people to have survived a core-transferring procedure was not known to the public, making the fact that Jiang Cheng has been outed as possessing Wei Wuxian’s old core seem very suspicious.No self-respecting cultivator would ever dream of giving their core away. The fact that Wei Wuxian has felt the need to tell him this after going on a mission to find the reason for Lan Xichen’s conditions… the implications make Jiang Cheng want to vomit.He flinches when something passes near his face.“A-Cheng, you with me? It’s just a rumour. Hey! Breathe you idiot, breathe!”Just a rumour, but on par with… Core-Melting Hand? It’s too similar. Wen Zhuliu who killed his mother. Maybe his father too. The loyal Wen-dog, reviled for his repugnant ability to destroy a person’s core—is he supposed to sit back calmly whilst someone is supposedly going around stealing cores?! What type of person would he be if he did that?!“Stay with me, brother! Listen, it’s not true. You hear me? It’s not.”“It’s not true,” Jiang Cheng chokes out, forcing Zidian to calm. Lightning crackles at the corners of his vision, but Wei Wuxian clings onto him like a limpet.“That’s right. Lan Xichen has his core, okay? You know yourself. He’s fine.”Lan Xichen was laughing at him not so long ago for almost rubbing ink onto his nose. Even after such a long talk, he was vibrant and alive, insisting firmly that no debt was owed. His core was fine. He was fine.“Talk to me about Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian says, once Jiang Cheng’s eyes have regained a little more clarity and the sparks have died down. (He shoves him away then, unable to bear being touched at the moment.) “I hear you’ve been taking care of him?”Taking care of him? More like falling out with him after throwing his recent trauma in his face! But then, perhaps this afternoon cancels that out? Jiang Cheng shrugs. He really has no idea how friendships work. Somehow by shouting at him again, the problem seems to have fixed itself. Who is he to question it?“I’ve been keeping an eye on him if that’s what you mean.” Like you asked me to.“Hmm, that’s good. You see, I was just thinking… after the wedding, Lan Zhan and I are planning to go look for those beggars. We think they might be up to something which may be connected to this. It’s too much of a coincidence meeting odd characters like that to be ignored. It will mean we’ll be away from Gusu quite a lot—”“No.”He already knows where this is going.“Do I need to remind you that I am a Sect Leader?” Though he would like to spend time with Lan Xichen, he has his own duties to look after! He is really too busy! “You think I can come and go as I please? Please! My guards chased me down just yesterday.”“Ah, the Spiders? Wow! Hey, aren’t they the ones who taught you whip techniques? Are they really that scary—”“You can be sure that they will drag my ass back to Yunmeng if I’m away for too long.”“Waaah, that's scary!" Scratching his nose, "But with what I’ve told you about that list, aren’t you worried about Brother Xichen’s safety? He’s in no condition to be able to defend himself.” It’s less the list that worries him if he’s being honest.Seeing his words starting to take effect though, Wei Wuxian quickly adds, “You won’t have to be here all the time. Wen Ning has agreed to guard him too, but considering the nature of the case… it would make more sense to have him take part in some of the fieldwork. You, on the other hand, are far too recognisable. Even in the best disguise, a person would have to be blind to believe you’re a beggar, ahaha…”He has a point. Jiang Cheng can’t help but sulk a little. His privileged upbringing makes it hard for him to adapt to acting like a beggar. It’s true that he would be recognised in an instant.“So, on the occasions where Wen Ning isn’t around—”“No, you know what? Listen. Things will be worked around my schedule. Sit down. This is how it's going to be…”In the end, Jiang Cheng lays out the terms. He will visit when he can. (When he can afford to. When he wants to.) He will leave in a similar manner. Wen Ning’s activities will work around this, leaving when Jiang Cheng arrives and reappearing when he leaves. That way Lan Xichen will never be left undefended, and Jiang Cheng won’t have to interact with Wen Ning.It’s a pretty good plan, if not wholly satisfying on Jiang Cheng’s end. But Wei Wuxian, of course, doesn’t see it that way. He claps his hands, pats Jiang Cheng on the back, and bids him goodbye before rushing off to whatever else he has lined up for the day. Of course, he won’t rise in time tomorrow morning to see Jiang Cheng off, so this is really farewell for now.Sitting there, Jiang Cheng suddenly realises he’s still holding the unnamed word. After taking a few deep breaths, he coughs out with a laugh and presses a hand to his mouth. It’s always like this. It’s always been like this, and it’s still like this now.Even after everything, after years of chasing after him, Wei Wuxian will dump his things with him and leave. He will always run ahead—a free spirit making his own path, never tied down. Never held back by anything. Now that Jiang Cheng has agreed to help him, his investigation can continue without him having to worry about ‘Brother Xichen’.But what about Jiang Cheng? Does he ever stop to think about him? Though he just said himself that he has duties and cannot come and go as he likes, it’s with a genuine pang of resentment that he knows he really can’t. He will never be free to roam around like Wei Wuxian, playing the hero and going about on exciting adventures. Instead, Jiang Cheng is left to watch over things, keep hold of things, provide back-up and give support. He will have to schedule time for himself to visit Lan Xichen, and then make up for that time later.It’s such a bitter feeling. It’s so familiar, that he can't really do anything but laugh. Because it’s his fault this time—he signed himself up for this. There’s no one else to blame.He’s so tired. Tired of wanting things to be different—of resenting his brother for flying high whilst he remains tied to the earth; of being a bitter old man, drinking whole barrels of vinegar every day; of being unimportant and not good enough, and wishing that he wasn’t.In the end, Jiang Cheng is tired of longing for a life he knows he’ll never have.Even as he laughs, from the bottom of his heart, he knows he is far from indifferent to it all. He cares. He's tired.
But isn’t that understandable? You’ve been through hell.
Jiang Cheng smacks his head back against the tree, closes his eyes and shivers at the pain.
Jiang Wanyin is too hard on himself.
Squeezing his hands around the abandoned sword, he asks himself:Am I though? He should feel tired, but instead, he feels oddly refreshed.After Jiang Cheng’s raw honesty, Lan Xichen cannot help but see the world more brightly and breathe a little more easily. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, or rather—that a burden has been shared between two. It’s really a blessing, he thinks, rinsing off the brushes. The only downside to his day so far is that across from him, Wangji seems quite distressed.He’s rambled on and on to him about his current art-pieces, showing him sketches, updating him on the disciples’ progress with sword training, but Wangji is worryingly unresponsive. He seemed shaken by something. From what, Lan Xichen couldn’t possibly guess.“You know, maybe he’s right,” he remarks, dragging his brother’s attention away from boring a hole through the table. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I think this inkstone is not as good.”The slate inkstone sits, humbly bearing Lan Xichen’s insults.Wangji is equally as quiet and merely nods along to Lan Xichen’s nonsense. Usually, he is fine with sitting like this with his brother, but after having Jiang Cheng cleave through so many of his doubts with his matter-of-fact talk… it’s almost as if his own voice wants to join in with evoking that same sense of freedom. Whatever is troubling Wangji, he wants to ease his mind.Looking at his brother, Lan Xichen recalls a method he would use with him as children.“Do you remember the story of the inkstone, Wangji?”Wangji blinks, then grunts yes. It is something their mother used to tell them and their father too, since it had been a wedding gift from him to her—the only one he managed to convince the elders to part with, since it was supposed to remain with the family. Since their mother couldn’t leave, it was decidedly safe to be ‘gifted’. It was no big symbol of love, but he and Wangji, in their youth, liked to pretend it was.The beauty of its carved form, the way Mother would carefully clean every nook and cranny, the fact that Father fought for the right to give it to her.All of it sounded rather lovely to them.“Brother,” Wangji murmurs. He reaches out, startling Lan Xichen, but he quickly grasps his hand. With the other, Wangji kneads his forehead. “Brother, I want to meditate.”Sometimes the result from nudging him a little would be meditation, sometimes it would be monosyllabic replies. Either way, using a story or song derived from either one of their parents would usually be able to coax WangJi back to responsiveness. These days Lan Xichen tends towards uttering ‘Young Master Wei’, and that will be good enough to rouse him, but he was inspired this time—and thankfully it worked.Actually, it worked a lot. Wangji is holding his hand! Lan Xichen feels his heart flutter and bites back a fond smile. Whatever is lingering in Wangji’s heart, what he doesn’t need is to be faced with an overly sentimental brother grinning at him! He consciously evens out his expression.“Like we used to?”“No.”Okay, so… not the path he showed him. That’s still fine! Recently he’s pushed that method aside anyways, since calming his mind the traditional way seems to be the only method that works for him anymore. It will be good enough.The Jades shut their eyes in unison, each seeking for the other’s hand to complete the circle. Just before this Wangji flicks his wrist outwards, lighting the incense cone. The heavy scent fills their lungs, and with one exhale Lan Xichen feels his awareness spill outwards with his breath. This lower level of consciousness will do just fine, he thinks. But then he catches onto a thought, rising from his mind like a ribbon of smoke.
Inkstone.
And suddenly they spiral, snared by a gust of wind.
Wangji is somewhere beside him. He can still feel his hand in his, though they have no physical form. Not even voices to speak with, not that they really need them. They are mere spectators here, floating down towards a… a land of lakes and rivers.
Lan Xichen sees a man practising his sword technique in a field.
From where they are, his features aren’t distinct, but his form is superb. Clad in dazzling white, he is radiant amongst the green grasses. He stops abruptly, head snapping to the side. A herd of cattle which had been grazing idly have begun stampeding!
The man leaps onto his sword and flies in the opposite direction, weaving in between the panicked beasts. He yells something, throwing his arms up as the sword clatters to the side and he falls.
A bright flare shoots down from the sky, deafening as it tears through the atmosphere. It blazes a trail, its course unstoppable. The impact throws the man off his feet. Crash!
The man immediately leaps back onto his sword and heads over. Amazingly, the lake is dry! Steam everywhere, it is impossible to see through it. With the lakebed exposed, it’s obvious where it was struck. A bright green rock[1] gleams at the centre, oozing and molten.
But that’s not what hit the lake. That’s the place the thing struck.
At the centre, at the centre… is a woman. A naked woman with long, long hair. The same woman from his dream—
Lan Xichen coughs, returning to his body. He smacks his chest a few times and then turns to his brother, who is still holding onto his other hand and is still meditating. (Was that meditation? It felt different. Dreamlike, yet real.) Wangji is frowning slightly, his face twitching a bit. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain though, and Lan Xichen knows better than to wake him before he’s ready, so he waits. It doesn’t take long.Wangji gasps upon his return, blinking a few times before turning to stare at the inkstone. Without speaking, they already understand that this experience must be tied to it.The green rock was definitely the material the inkstone was carved from. And if the inkstone exists, then that dream-like scene must have also been real. For an item like this to have spirituality and have gone so many years without revealing itself is most unusual, but what they saw was even more unbelievable as an origin story—that it was struck by something that fell from the sky, causing it to melt like that!These conclusions don’t need to be repeated aloud, but Wangji stayed under longer than him. Lan Xichen squeezes his brother’s hand to draw his attention, “What else did you see?”“She was hurt.” Wangji’s mouth twists painfully. “And crying.”“And what about him?”“He carried her out and tended to her wounds. She wouldn’t stop crying so he…” his ears redden, swallowing a few times. “He sang a song to soothe her. Then played the xiao for her too.”Lan Xichen had his suspicions before, but this confirms them (and several other things too).Music was something their sect excelled at—their most sacred form of cultivation passed down from generation to generation. The inkstone, which is (was?) a family heirloom, was also passed down from generation to generation. That man who was clad in white who spun through the air, and knew how to sing, and how to play the xiao...Lan Xichen holds his brother’s hands tightly until they stop shaking, and then meets his gaze.He finds the same look of awe reflected there because this is something truly extraordinary. This is a past event which has been preserved for countless years within a stone... a stone which didn’t even need to be present to impart its story! The fact that it was triggered merely from Lan Xichen thinking about it is nothing short of remarkable!Who would have thought an inkstone he’s been using all his life could be hiding such a thing? But what caused it to reveal itself now? What changed?“An imprint,” Wangji murmurs wonderingly, and Lan Xichen nods. “So that was…”“Our ancestor,” he breathes. “That man was our ancestor.” It’s another strange dream, and he knows it.He’s immersed again in an underwater space, though this one feels larger than the pond. Much larger. He cannot see anything through the darkness. There is movement above. A flash of a sword flying past. Through the water, he can hear someone yelling. After listening for a while, it’s clear that it’s a woman and that she’s fighting something. (For a moment she sounds scarily like his mother!) Then he feels a current push past him. Something propelling him sideways.It occurs to him then that the thing she’s fighting is actually in the water, and that it’s huge! It’s somewhere below him! Through the darkness, he hears an enraged roar that vibrates every particle of water. The woman dives down, something clutched in her hand. It slips out of her grasp, glinting brightly— Jiang Cheng jolts awake. He gasps like he’s been holding his breath. He gasps from pain because two angry women are violently shaking him awake.“—ncle! Is he okay? Is he breathing?!”“He’s fine, A-Ling.”Fine? Is he really fine? His arms are being tugged out of their sockets and they call this fine??“Get off!” Jiang Cheng growls, smacking the two Spiders away. “You’re way too strong!”Indeed they are strong. It’s only because they wanted to retreat that they did so. Minzhen sneers at his affronted expression whilst patting Jin Ling gently on the head. “It’s time to leave,” Linzhen announces, tossing his robes at his face. Jiang Cheng is used to being treated like this so there is no point in arguing. No point worrying about losing face in front of Jin Ling either since he’s used to this too.Whilst he dresses, the women tidy up (though he’s not made much of a mess, so they’re really just there to put pressure on him), shooting him looks whenever they see him struggling with his ruined clothing. It’s been torn, stained, and unwashed for days. Jiang Cheng doesn’t need a reminder for how he looks, thank you very much!After the Spiders force him to shove some breakfast down his throat, Jiang Cheng leads their little group outside towards the main hall. They haven’t informed anyone they’re leaving, but since this was an impromptu (informal) visit, there’s no real need to tell anyone. He plans to let a disciple know and then head off—“Wait right here, I’ll go get shishu!”Shishu? What the fuck? Jiang Cheng calls after the disciple, but those little legs of his are surprisingly fast, and for some reason, they seem to have become deaf as well! Linzhen coughs lightly, making him scowl. Why call for anyone? Which shishu? Surely not Lan Qiren! He turns to Jin Ling.“Which one is he talking about?”It could be Lan Qiren but it could also technically be Lan Wangji. It could also be Lan Xichen too, but surely no one would bother asking him to come out just to see them off. Jin Ling shrugs, totally unbothered. His face brightens, spotting two figures heading towards them. It’s obvious which two those are, and without a word, he runs off—abandoning his uncle, just like that! “Hey! Jin Ling, I’m talking to you—!”Linzhen and Minzhen immediately leave him to trail after Jin Ling, naturally quite interested to see who their little Young Master’s friends are. From where he is, it’s quite comical seeing how Jingyi stiffens at the (terrifying) sight of two stern women (walking in unison too), and Sizhui immediately greets them with a polite bow. Such different reactions. Jiang Cheng huffs, crossing his arms.Weren’t they meant to be leaving though? What’s with the delay?He waits impatiently, standing under the awning, eyeing the overcast sky warily. If it’s Lan Wangji that disciple is after, he definitely won’t come. Jiang Cheng’s impatience settles a little. If it’s Lan Xichen (which it won’t be), he is less certain and more hopeful. He’s also more worried.After yesterday, he must be tired. He definitely shouldn’t come all this way just for this. Jiang Cheng stomps along the edge of the platform. He doubts either Jade will come. This is such a waste of time. They should just leave already. He stomps back where he came. It’s funny how he’s sort of… relieved (grateful?) to be mostly certain Lan Wangji won’t come, but in contrast to that, he feels—feels what? Disappointed?No, it’s perfectly understandable if Lan Xichen can’t come. He wouldn’t want him out in this weather anyway.It’s often said that after sleeping on a decision, one’s mind becomes clearer and one’s heart more settled. Jiang Cheng didn’t get that opportunity last night, thanks to having spent his time being shoved around by sea-monsters in his dream! So now as he waits, he thinks about what he and Wei Wuxian discussed yesterday.At the time it felt like sharing idle gossip, but with them going separate ways now, his attitude towards that information has to change. The situation could become dangerous with the list, and with these strange beggars, and with Nie Huaisang coming into the picture too… even these dreams of his have him feeling heavy with a sense of foreboding.His instincts are reacting like animals do, sensing an oncoming storm long before the east wind starts blowing. As of yet, there isn’t really anything to put his efforts towards, and he hates that. It curls in his belly and makes his skin prickle. He hates nothing more than standing still.This is the part of waiting when you know something is coming, but you cannot see from what direction it comes. The world lets you know: something is stirring. Something just beyond your grasp—“Oh good, you're still here.”Jiang Cheng spins around, breath catching when he sees Lan Xichen climbing up onto the platform. The disciple assists him, then bows at both of them and leaves. Lan Xichen smiles, gesturing to a bench. "Please."“You didn’t have to come.”“Of course I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, so I did. Is that alright with you?” It’s as simple as that, but Jiang Cheng frowns. Lan Xichen laughs at this. “My apologies. Had I known you’d be so opposed—”“It’s not like that.” He’s glad to see him, but at the same time he... he’s a little concerned, okay? It’s not exactly a short walk from the hanshi to here. Lan Xichen even slumps immediately onto the bench which proves that he's tired!“I wanted to thank you again before you leave. What you said to me and what you’ve done for me,” Lan Xichen exhales slowly, “You’ve really helped a lot. I don’t think you realise how much.”“…”“I was wondering though, would you mind if we remained in contact? It’s just that I… I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to visit you in person, and—”“We already agreed we’d exchange letters, remember?” Jiang Cheng interrupts. Calligraphy and paintings. If you track my progress, I'll track yours. “I already said I’m fine with that.”“That's great,” Lan Xichen beams. “Also, if it’s not too much trouble, I might ask your advice for some of the wedding planning. I've been thinking that to honour Young Master Wei’s origins, it would be nice to include some Yunmeng customs—unless, oh… unless that’s, uh…” he trails off awkwardly.What? Is his face doing something? The unripe fruit expression again?Jiang Cheng bullies his face back into a more neutral expression. Wei Wuxian’s origins though… that’s definitely a sore spot. But in a way, he’s been thinking of this too. It's nothing he owes, and nothing Wei Wuxian would ask from him, but if he's coming to this wedding, how can he face being the last of Wei Wuxian's family and not provide for him? It would create more of a problem for him really.He scoffs, “I’m no wedding expert, but I suppose if you need any advice, I’ll do my best.” It's not like many others in Lotus Pier will know the traditional wedding customs. His sect members have a wide range of mish-mash practices coming from all over Yunmeng and further afield. Wei Wuxian probably doesn't care much about authenticity, but fuck it—Jiang Cheng does!"That would be really wonderful, thank you.""And if you are in need of anything else," he says, (Is Lan Xichen aware of the mission? Surely he must be.) "Don't hesitate to ask."“That’s very kind of you,” Lan Xichen says warmly, dipping his chin. "Thank you again. This Sect Leader is most grateful."“Mm.”A shriek draws both their gazes over to the boys, two of whom are wrestling to push the other on the ground. It's no surprise which those two are.Jiang Cheng has half a mind to shout at Jin Ling to stop acting like a child, but then Lan Xichen clears his throat, prompting Sizhui to step in. The women merely stand back, enjoying the entertainment. Jiang Cheng looks away when they bend their heads together and start whispering. That just means they're starting to place bets, and he wants no part in that.“Also I have… I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but—here.” Lan Xichen hands him something small and round and smooth. A jade token of passage. “So that you can come and go as you please.”Jiang Cheng stares at it for a moment. Then he tries to tuck it in his sleeve, only then remembering he has no sleeves. Damn it. Lan Xichen lets out a chuckle, and he turns to him angrily, but then—looking at him, his annoyance drifts away. He truly has no problem with visiting this man. Coming back from time to time to see if he’s alright. It won't be a problem at all.He isn’t sure what to think about that."About the wedding," Lan Xichen says. In the distance, Jin Ling squawks, smacking Jingyi and dodging a return kick. Neither of them bats an eyelash at this. “I don't know if you know, but it’ll be sometime in the summer.”"Tsk. Summer is no good. It's far too vague," he immediately says, and he's right—it’s already mid-spring. How long does it take to choose a date? "If neither of those idiots can settle on a date, then promise me that you'll pick one. Please. Spare me the trouble of endlessly waiting. I have shit to do, you know."Lan Xichen laughs again. "I'll spare you. I promise you, you'll be the first one to know."It's only then that he realises he swore—he swore in front of Lan Xichen! But he's not a student here anymore, so does it count if he's a visitor? Another yelp snatches their attention. Jiang Cheng heaves an exaggerated sigh. Jingyi has somehow been toppled to the ground and Jin Ling is laughing triumphantly. Neither of his guards is paying the two any mind, having moved themselves over to the most mature of the three. Minzhen is showing Sizhui her whip and miming a throwing action.They should really leave now.Jiang Cheng stands, and immediately the Spiders stop what they're doing. Jin Ling is plucked off Jingyi by the scruff, causing him to squeak like a startled kitten. Serves him right. Jiang Cheng turns back to Lan Xichen and gives him one last assessing look. Spiritual energy low, but core intact. As genuinely happy as Jiang Cheng can assume him to be. He can leave now. Properly. Without regret.“I’ll see you at the wedding then?” Lan Xichen asks, rising to his feet with a faint smile.That little motion wafts a scent towards him. Incense and sandalwood. Jiang Cheng smiles in return.“Yes, I’ll see you then.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Love is not what you say, love is what you do."— Buddha
When the day comes, they set off the night before to arrive before dawn. It's set to be a small ceremony, contrary to the more public wedding one might expect two famous cultivators to have. That was the Lan elders’ main stipulation upon allowing Wei Wuxian into their family. Probably with the mind to limit how much joy the occasion would bring and, in that sense, punish the two for their improper union.Well… prepare for that mind to be broken, Jiang Cheng thinks, blazing through layers of indigo and golden-red clouds, Sandu aimed towards the rosy sunrise.There will be no sedan carried through the streets, because there will be no bride (and where the fuck would they be carried to anyway?). It’s unclear who will be giving what gifts to whom (again, because of the aforementioned problem). Neither side has any parents to honour, which again, makes the whole fucking system confusing as hell. But regardless of all that, between him and Lan Xichen, a rather unconventional wedding has been (vengefully) planned, which (he hopes) will make every one of those white-haired fuddy-duddies spit blood till their pasty complexions match their beards.For all the effort they’ve put into trying to pressure onto Lan Xichen to cancel the wedding, and trying to force Lan WangJi ‘see reason’ and marry a woman (fat chance, it’s not like he can see anything but his Wei Ying), each one of them deserves every bit of festive mayhem they’ve got coming!He can’t help thinking that in hindsight, it’s funny how vehemently he opposed his brother’s cut-sleeve romance, because really—what did he really expect?Wei Wuxian to marry some sweet, demure young lady and settle down as a good husband? As if! He was always bound to do something this shameless, so why not make the most of the situation? Jiang Cheng’s stomach has been clenched tight for the past four days anticipating this event, the same way he used to anticipate the fall-out of every one of Wei Wuxian’s countless pranks.If anything, this is going to be interesting.Behind him, the Spiders each have several bundles strapped to their backs as does he. He has come bearing all sorts of gifts, just in case.As they touch down on the mountain peaks, Jiang Cheng whisks off his cloak and pulls out the jade token. For some reason, he is bizarrely aware of the fact that this is his first time using it. The protective barriers permit them through, and Jiang Cheng talks with the patrol-guards before waving at his guards to go off to do their agreed tasks. The others will arrive later on foot.Red lanterns swing on strings hung from the roof awnings lining most of the main buildings. A few float in the branches of nearby trees and some are lined neatly along the bridges, ready to be sent down the waterways later on in the evening.For a moment, he watches his guards rise up on their swords, carefully nudging things around to make room for the decorations they brought. Once again, he’s glad he took responsibility for the decor, leaving Lan Xichen to deal with preparing the matrimonial bedchamber. No way was he touching that with a ten-foot pole.After a while, Minzhen clears her throat, so he turns around and follows the path, counting each red paper lantern he passes by.The sun has barely risen, but he clambers noisily up the steps towards the jingshi. In a way, he's being thoughtful. Giving his brother a little warning before waking him up.When he knocks, Lan Sizhui pops his head out and lets out an “oh”. Oh? What oh?Jiang Cheng lessens his scowl a fraction, seeing the boy rub reddened eyes and mumble a polite greeting. This is the least put-together he’s seen this disciple, but then again it's not even five in the morning. Robes askew, forehead ribbon crooked, face flushed. Did he get any sleep last night? “So, you’re the unlucky one who had to put up with him?” The boy hurries to say, “It wasn't that bad.” “Stop lying. That one kicks, drools, talks to himself, and even sleepwalks on occasion.” Jiang Cheng crosses his arms. “This one grew up sharing a room with him. You’re fooling no one.”Sizhui sags, yawning widely (behind his hand, of course).Snort. “That bad then?” He pushes into the room, glancing around at all the… the clutter. Who would have thought? “Hanguang-Jun lives here? Like this?” He wouldn’t say he’s surprised that the man has allowed Wei Wuxian to mess up his living-space but would say that he’s disappointed. What a mess!“Chen’?” A head pops up from the mattress. Lips smacking, hair sticking up in every direction. He squints at him. “Wha’ you doin’ ‘ere?”“Senior Jiang has come to help with preparations,” Sizhui explains. “Don’t you remember? We were saying just last night—”Jiang Cheng kicks the bed frame. “Get up, you lump. It’s showtime.” “Mrrrrrrgh.” Wei Wuxian flops and whines, but look—his own teenage son has somehow magically managed to make himself decent in the space of, what, less than two minutes? He's even got his forehead ribbon tied and his hair brushed. Wei Wuxian has no excuse to be behaving like this! “Too early.”“Too early?” A glimmer of daylight is barely visible, but goddamnit, who is the one who hasn’t slept all night to get here on time?! “It’s morning.”“…what’s morning?”Is he serious? “You don’t know what morning is?” Jiang Cheng asks, grabbing the curtain. “Alright then. Let me show you.”The sunbeam lands perfectly on Wei Wuxian’s face. He yelps, flipping over the mattress again and again to escape it. He lands on the floor with a resounding smack. “Jiang Cheng, why? Why would you hurt your dear older brother like this? This face—I need this face you know?”Jiang Cheng kicks him over and kick-kick-kicks until he rolls onto his knees. “Why must you always be so difficult?”The Spiders enter carrying a full tub between them, two wide-eyed juniors following behind, arms stuffed full with brushes and towels. He leaves them to deal with getting him prepared. Sizhui stammers a little at this. But women aren’t allowed is as far as he gets. Linzhen's smile shuts him up real fast.It ends up being the best puppet-show Jiang Cheng has ever seen in his life. Behind the paper-screen, the squeaks, squawks and begging coming from his brother have him snickering, whilst from the Spiders—deadly silence.Beside him, Sizhui shoots him beseeching looks every now and again, as if asking him to go rescue his poor father. Jiang Cheng raises his brow. Does he really think he's going to risk life and limb against his own guards to save that ungrateful lump? He turns his attention towards straightening up the room instead, clearly stating his opinion on the matter. Who cares about privacy? This place is a death-trap. He’s obviously doing them a favour!After a moment, Sizhui reluctantly joins in.“Where’s the shorter one?” he asks after a while. Sizhui frowns. “Jingyi, you mean? He’s with Hanguang-Jun.”“…”“Zewu-Jun asked him to sleep on the bed. He’s a Dragon[1].”That sort of explains it, but at the same time: is such a thing necessary if two men are marrying? Anyway, he can only imagine the scene at the other end being the exact opposite of things here. The two calm, perfectly behaved original Jades, with their own Mini-Jade spectator yapping and bouncing around by their sides like an excitable puppy.“Is Jin Ling here yet?” Sizhui asks, raising his voice to be heard over the crying in the background.“He’ll be here soon.”In his letters, Jiang Cheng jokingly asked Lan Xichen who was going to wear the qipao, to which he was worryingly given no answer. There were grumblings about Wei Wuxian taking the wife’s role in the partnership, but nothing had been officially agreed to. Still, he swears—if Wei Wuxian walks out wearing… wearing something like that, then he will be the one spitting blood. Elders be damned.A knock comes at the door. Jiang Cheng goes to answer and immediately sneers when he sees who it is. “You’re late.”"I set off in good time!”“Then that just makes it worse. Get in.” He shoves the disgruntled Sect Leader through the door, almost getting smacked in the nose by his fan. That has him backing up instantly under Jiang Cheng’s withering glare. “You want to die?”“Ah—ah Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang exclaims. “Where is Wei-xiong?”“Huaisang!” Thud. A leg sticks out, an arm flails. Red silk flutters with the motion. “Huaisang, save me! Help me, please!”“Tsk. Who’s going to save you?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, grabbing Nie Huaisang before he can respond to the call for aid. He gestures at Sizhui to continue tidying and drags his fellow Sect Leader over to a corner. “So?” he asks quietly. "Anything?"These past couple months, he put some effort into getting in touch with Nie Huaisang, to allow both of them to stay in the loop with the other’s activities regarding dealing with ‘the list’, and everything else Wei Wuxian has dug up. Truthfully, Jiang Cheng had a lot less to contribute on his part in terms of pooling resources, but at least by doing this he thought he could get a better idea on whether Nie Huaisang’s offer to help them was genuine or not.“Nothing,” he whispers immediately, face turning solemn. “Xichen-ge has been thoroughly examined. He’s fine, according to what my physicians say. Also, there’s been nothing found regarding the beggars.”Jiang Cheng bites his lip, then spins around when Wei Wuxian lets out an ear splitting wail. “Are you dying? Shut up!”When he eventually comes out dressed beautifully in red from head to toe, hair brushed to a gleaming shine, and smelling faintly of citrus... he looks faintly traumatised. The Spiders slip out behind him looking extremely proud of themselves, each giving Jiang Cheng a little nod. To be fair, he cleans up pretty good, but on his head—Jiang Cheng bites his lip and mentally curses Lan Xichen. Really? Could he not have said?It should look… it should look stupid, so why doesn’t it? His brother is a bride. A bride. Not wearing a woman’s qipao, nor with his hair tied up any differently, but with a delicately embroidered veil muting the dazed expression on his stupid face. Jiang Cheng approaches him slowly, both his eyes and the tip of his nose already prickling with emotion.Wei Wuxian has never been nervous a single day in his life, but today he fiddles with his sleeves and avoids his gaze and plucks at his belt. Jiang Cheng slaps his hands to still them. He should say that he looks dumb, or maybe try and be honest and say he looks good. Instead, he pulls a small box out of his sleeve, and asks, “Do you still have your bell?”The bride-to-be looks taken aback. “My bell? No, Lan Zhan has it.”Of all the shameless things! “You gave it to him already?!”“N-No! I—I think I lost it a while ago.” Shrinking back a little, “I don’t know, Jiang Cheng. I really don’t remember. I… I guess he must have found it at some point.” Whilst he was searching for him, or whilst he was waiting for him? Does it really matter? These two, honestly! Jiang Cheng sighs. “Well, as a member of Yunmeng Jiang, you need to wear a bell to marry. It’s tradition.”“Really?” It’s then that Jiang Cheng realises something extraordinary.Something that has never occurred to him in all his thirty-four years: Wei Wuxian has never been to a wedding before. He may theoretically know what happens in a very general sense, but as for the intricacies of each custom, the individual traditions of his home-sect… he probably has no idea what is involved. Because the thing is, Wei Wuxian knows a lot of things, but his knowledge is tied closely to his interests.In their youth, Wei Wuxian violently rejected the idea of marriage, hating the idea of being tied down by any one person, so even his technical knowledge of weddings might be lacking. At once, both a sense of responsibility and an overwhelming urge to abuse this power falls upon him.Jiang Cheng passes him the box. “It’s tradition,” he repeats, “That once you’ve done the bows, you exchange your bell with your partner’s. Only for the ceremony. It’s symbolic, but… huh. That actually might work better.” Originally he’d been thinking Wei Wuxian would have nothing to exchange his bell with, because Lan Wangji wasn’t a Yunmeng Jiang member. It would have been fine, but in this case— “Alright, listen. You,” he points at Sizhui, “Go tell Hanguang-Jun to get his old bell. You,” he points at Wei Wuxian, “You’re going to claim this bell right now so that you can do this. Understand?”Sensing that this is important, Wei Wuxian nods and opens the box and with shaking hands. He stares at the bell for a long time. Jiang Cheng frowns. What’s the big deal? It’s not like this is the first time he's seen one. He waits impatiently, watching his brother go all misty-eyed and sniffly for a few minutes, and then snaps at him to get the hell on with it. “It’s just… it’s been a while,” he murmurs, hovering for a moment before carefully tipping the bell into his palm. It flashes purple light once and then settles. Wei Wuxian swallows thickly. “Did it ring? Did you hear it?” Jiang Cheng asks. It should work fine. After all, he made it himself.“Jiang Cheng,” he croaks, and then crashes into his arms! (What the fuck?!) Wei Wuxian squeezes him around his neck, nearly strangling him. “Jiang Cheng, thank you. Thank you. You didn’t need to do this. I didn’t expect you to—”“Get off me! You’re messing up your clothes!” He pushes his brother away by the shoulders, careful not to rip the veil. “And what do you mean I ‘didn’t need to do this’? Who else do you think will do this, ah?”Blubbering: “Jiang Cheng!”“Ugh, what is wrong with you? Stop crying, for fuck’s sake. You’re going to ruin all of their hard work,” he says, pointing at the two women, who are more interested in flicking open Nie Huaisang’s pilfered fan, than paying either of them any mind. Jiang Cheng groans, leaning away from him. “Seriously, stop. You’re being ridiculous.”“I’m allowed to be ridiculous! The day is already emotional enough, and now you’re being nice!” he howls.“What’s that supposed to mean?!” “This is your fault!”“My fault?!” Jiang Cheng throws up his hands, “You know what? Go on. Cry then. The louder the better[2]. Ugly or not, that fool will still marry you—” Before he can continue, there is another knock at the door. Jiang Cheng squints at the brightening sky. It’s too early. “That can’t be him already.”“Please excuse me,” a cheerful voice calls through the door, and then Lan Xichen enters with a flutter of silver-lined robes. His face lights up at the sight of his brother-in-law(-to-be), and he hums approvingly a few times before turning to Jiang Cheng. “Sect Leader Jiang, prompt as always,” he says warmly. Sweeping a look over Jiang Cheng, his smile widens. “You look nice.”“Zewu-Jun,” Jiang Cheng murmurs, smiling a little in return, though his ‘so do you’ response gets stuck in his throat. Lan Xichen is similarly dressed in his own beautifully ornate formal robes, his hair caught up in a stunning silver crown.At first glance, everything about him appears lustrous and grand, but… his complexion isn’t good. Even his cheeks appear slightly gaunt. Jiang Cheng’s eyes bounce around his face and frame, eyes flashing violet as he peeks through flesh and bone to assess his spiritual pathways. As expected, they have faded significantly. He is honestly quite shocked. How could he have deteriorated so much in such a short time? “Brother Xichen looks very nice too!” a cheerful voice butts in. Everyone turns just in time to catch Nie Huaisang clasping his hands together like a giddy maiden. When he notices all of them staring, the fan snaps back open to hide his blushing face.“Ah, thank you, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen says softly, which is when Jiang Cheng realises his lack of response must have dragged on for too long. The First Jade looks about as embarrassed as he feels, but it’s too late to do anything about it. Just as he thinks that, a certain someone decides he’s been ignored for too long.“Hello? And what about me?” Wei Wuxian demands, pouting. “Whose wedding is this anyway? Shame on all of you!”Jingyi peeks around the First Jade’s shoulder and gasps in delight. “Oh, you look nice, Senior Wei!” he gushes, and then tilts his head. “But hold on, why the veil?”“Aren’t you meant to be guarding Hanguang-Jun?” Jiang Cheng asks curtly and then notices something. “Where did Sizhui go?”“We swapped,” the boy explains, striding merrily into the room. He circles around Wei Wuxian a couple of times. “Wow, Hanguang-Jun’s going to love this!”Lan Xichen chuckles. “Since Brother is currently detained, I thought that Young Master Wei might want to take the opportunity to admire the decorations before things get properly underway. After all,” he says, eyes twinkling, “Who knows how long it’ll take for Wangji to get past the door afterwards?”“But we fixed the door just recently,” Wei Wuxian says, obviously confused. Jiang Cheng reins in the urge to cackle uproariously. “It works perfectly fine.”Lan Xichen, to his credit, only continues smiling pleasantly, not revealing a goddamn thing. Jiang Cheng has to admit, he’s impressed. “Young Master Wei,” he insists, “If you please.”Jiang Cheng goes out first, casting a wary look around in case a certain Second Jade dares to sneak a peek at his brother before he is allowed. The others stumble outside, and Wei Wuxian gasps before letting out a delighted laugh. Up ahead a curtain flutters, so Jiang Cheng reflexively kicks JingYi to stand in the way, blocking that line of sight.Around them is a rather less extravagant setting than a true Yunmeng wedding would have been, but the Spiders did a good job nevertheless. The lanterns from before have been joined with red ribbons fluttering in the breeze, and an assortment of paper cuttings have been stuck to various surfaces. A few garlands, some hangings, and a couple of love-knots here and there.Somehow each decoration seems to stick out worse like this though, which just goes to show—with weddings, everything is about commitment. If the elders had only allowed them to commit to a more elaborate scheme, then these ‘discreet’ embellishments wouldn’t appear so disorderly.In spite of this, everything looks good, but also a little chaotic.Jiang Cheng eyes the banners that sway along with the lanterns, the sheen of red silk luminous in the sunshine. He sneaks a glance at Lan Xichen, whose face is tipped up towards the sun. Wei Wuxian approaches one banner, his eyebrows pulling together. Jingyi accompanies him, head turning to the side as he mutters some of the writing aloud. “This is… Virtue?” he asks, checking with Lan Xichen for confirmation. “But written like this…”By ‘written like this’, he means painted in loose, flowing lines, each stroke humming with qi and movement, as the ‘running script’ style dictates. It’s nothing like the tight, uniform script of the four thousand rules Jingyi is probably used to seeing.Whilst Jingyi drags his mentor around to read each passage, Jiang Cheng scoots over to try and slip Lan Xichen a small stack of books. When their eyes meet, he nods and receives a small smile in return.“That’s not Virtue. I’d recognise Virtue anywhere,” Wei Wuxian declares, causing Jiang Cheng to snort aloud at the irony. “These are the Matrimonial Directives Teacher forced me to memorise! But who would…”“Ah, it’s so pretty!” Jingyi exclaims, wearing a similarly betrayed expression as Wei Wuxian. Both rule-breakers look rather torn about this. “When the rules are displayed like this, it almost becomes art! If all of them were written like this, it might even make copying them less horrible! Zewu-Jun,” he calls, “What if you painted all the rules like this? Would you do that?” (For me? is not said, but rather implied.)Lan Xichen laughs lightly. “You’d have to ask someone else to do it. This is not my work.”Wei Wuxian huffs, scowling up at the wafting banner, but then his mouth slackens.He whirls around, immediately honing in on Jiang Cheng, who does his best not to fidget under his piercing gaze. It only gets worse when he scampers over to stand by them. Lan Xichen has done his best to tuck the books into his sleeve, but Wei Wuxian’s eyes are sharp, and for some reason, Lan Xichen’s movements are rather slow and clumsy. He skims the spines at a glance and turns to Jiang Cheng with wounded eyes. “Jiang Cheng, why would you do something like this? Did you not think about how it would make your shixiong feel? Honestly, what am I supposed to do now? With this painted so beautifully, I almost want to praise you, but in the end, they’re still the rules—”“Did you ever think that maybe it wasn’t for you?”For a moment, no one speaks. Wei Wuxian flinches back, but then he eyes Jiang Cheng for a moment and suddenly smiles. Jiang Cheng rears back, internally freaking the fuck out. What a fucking stupid Jin Zixuan thing to do—blurting things out, just like that!Of course this wasn’t for Wei Wuxian, but would he ever willingly admit who it was meant for? The rules have helped him a lot. So much, in fact. Absolutely not. No way, no how.“It must have taken you a long time,” Wei Wuxian muses, dropping his teasing tone but not his smile. He gently nudges shoulders with a very stiff Jiang Cheng and takes him by the elbow. Lifting his sleeve reveals that his hand is stained almost completely black. After taking a deep breath, he says, “On his behalf, thank you.”Jiang Cheng shrugs him off and then straightens out his collar and veil, which have gotten jostled by all this nonsense. “Go back inside. It’s time to lock you up.”"Right, right I..." Wei Wuxian freezes, his brain stuttering. “Wait a second—lock who up?!”“Young Master Wei, it’s time,” Lan Xichen chimes in, gesturing with his free hand. Again, Jiang Cheng can’t help but notice how his hand trembles minutely with that motion. There’s no time to think about it. Both Spiders take this as an order and swiftly corral the flustered man back into his house, after which the door is firmly shut and locked. After a few seconds, “Is this for the door games?”Jiang Cheng sighs. “Yes, it’s for the door games. Now shut up and stay put.”It’s one wedding activity he'd insisted on because out of all the others, it was the only one they were all guaranteed to have some fun (and at a certain someone's expense). It's what Jiang Cheng deserves, quite honestly. After all these months painting, the ink on his hands seems to have permanently sunk into his pores. Whilst he’s thinking this, the previous Mini Jade appears out of nowhere with Jin Ling in tow, and the three junior juniors trotting behind them.Jiang Cheng looks around, but Jingyi has disappeared into thin air. It seems the two must have swapped again, for whatever reason.“Uncle,” Jin Ling greets, to which he grunts. “So then… if Young Master Jin is here, does that mean everyone is ready?” Nie Huaisang asks, fanning himself with excitement. Jiang Cheng grunts again in affirmation, which is the signal for Sizhui to go collect Lan Wangji, as agreed.Whilst the boy hurries off again, the remaining juniors bicker amongst themselves, and Wei Wuxian grumbles and whines loudly about the injustice of his confinement through the door. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng… Jiang Cheng checks on Lan Xichen again, who is still trying to stuff the books into his sleeve. He is frowning, and shifting the bundle from hand to hand as if trying to figure something out.Seeing that the ribbon binding the books together is about to slide off from all the fumbling, Jiang Cheng grabs his wrist to still him, and carefully ties the knot tighter. “Careful,” he mutters, “You don’t want to drop that.”Lan Xichen shoots him a puzzled look, but thanks him and ends up hugging the books to his chest. Nie Huaisang lets out a happy sigh as he joins the two of them leaning against the door, causing Jiang Cheng to roll his eyes. How long will it take for Lan WangJi to arrive? Surely he won’t keep his bride waiting. If he does he might find him gagged with his own veil, if only to shut him up.For a brand new, supposedly sturdy door, sound travels very easily through the wood.“A-Cheng, you’ll tell me what’s going on, right?” Wei Wuxian asks.“I thought I told you to shut up.”“Didn’t you say I’d like the door games?”Jiang Cheng nods. “I did.”“Well how can I enjoy anything if I can’t see what’s going on?”“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe it was actually for me.”“…”Of course it would be like this. What would life be without Wei Wuxian pestering him at every given opportunity? “You ought to be grateful, you know? We put a lot of work into this, and for what? Only one day of celebration[3]!”“To be fair, the elders would have preferred even less than that,” Lan Xichen says apologetically, to which Jiang Cheng wafts a hand.“It’s not like this idiot has a long enough attention span to endure more than a day (“Hey!”), and this was already enough work as it is.”“Jiang Cheng, I would never have guessed you were a secret romantic,” Wei Wuxian calls out.“…”“If it were up to you, would my wedding be a week long?”“You wish!” Jiang Cheng bellows, kicking the door with his heel. “Ungrateful bastard. Stop saying such nonsense. One would hope that this time around marriage will be able to make a better man out of you, but here’s to hoping!”“Who needs to be made better?” A pause. “But if you're saying marriage is a cure-all for bad behaviour, it begs the question: why A-Cheng is so disagreeable?”Lan Xichen tilts his head, “Oh, is Jiang Wanyin engaged?”Wei Wuxian snorts, “Hardly.”Jiang Cheng’s face immediately turns red. He thumps the door again. “Don't make me come in there! Shut up before I make you shut up!”“I heard that Jiang-xiong’s latest date proved to be somewhat…” Nie Huaisang coughs delicately, “Unsuccessful.”From the side, Jin Ling mutters lowly, “What a surprise.”It’s understandable that from having to endure all this, Jiang Cheng’s face grows darker and darker, and resisting the urge to beat his brother up also becomes a gargantuan task. He tries to explain to Lan Xichen, who is the only blessedly sympathetic person in this crowd of traitors, that, “She wasn’t even someone I even wanted to meet with—”Nie Huaisang, “Oh? Did she not meet your requirements?”Eyeing him, Jiang Cheng considers redirecting his wrath. That unassuming face really knows far too much! “Enough! I’m hardly upset about the loss, so go ahead! Tease all you want!”“Well, if you insist." Wei Wuxian lets out a heavy sigh. "A-Cheng, tsk tsk, you really should know better than to expect that being so callous with these young maidens’ hearts won't result in some backlash.”“Requirements? What requirements?” Lan Xichen enquires, picking out one of the more embarrassing details of this whole conversation, much to Jiang Cheng’s horror. Traitors! Traitors everywhere!“Right!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, thrusting Jiang Cheng into the most uncomfortable situation, “Why don’t you tell Xichen-ge about your—”“No, it’s nothing!” he roars, stomping his foot. “Nothing! Nothing at all!” Nie Huaisang flutters his fan, and from inside the jingshi comes what can only be described as the devil's laugh. Jiang Cheng groans loudly, smacking his skull against the door. “Why is it when the three of us are together, you two decide to become your worst selves?”Beside him, Lan Xichen’s shoulders start shaking. He opens his eyes to check. Is he feeling unwell?“Did you hear that? Us two he says, Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian laments and then punches the door right where Jiang Cheng's head is. “You can’t lock me in here and not expect me to get bored! Since it’s your fault, you need to provide some entertainment!”“Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang wheedles, “Isn’t it the best time to talk about each other’s romantic prospects at a wedding?”"Who said that it was? Since when did we become a bunch of gossiping maidens?!”“A-Cheng, that’s sexist.” Another pause. “And I’m not just saying this because your two guards are standing right next to me, but because I trulybelievethatfromthebottomofmyheart—”“It’s true,” Lan Xichen says out of nowhere. “What Huaisang said. Where else would it make sense to talk about such things than at a wedding? It would be like going to the market and not expecting to discuss the price of wares.”“…”“Or like going to the market not expecting to pay for the goods at all,” Wei Wuxian offers, and then lets out a cackle.Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes heavenwards. It’s one thing to be shameless. It’s another to flaunt being shameless. Nie Huaisang suddenly makes a startled noise. “What are those disciples doing?”Jin Ling barks out an order, “Run out further! Did you hear me? I said further!”“Setting the targets,” Jiang Cheng answers, and then exhales loudly. “What is taking that man so long to arrive? Has he come to his senses and decided he's better off alone?"“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says quietly, “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the reason for your difficulty finding a wife?” Then, probably realising how this may sound, he adds, “What I mean is, surely the selection of offered partners can’t be that bad?”It takes a moment for him to think of an answer, during which he guides Lan Xichen over to the side. Thankfully Nie Huaisang takes his place leaning by the door, with the purpose of describing to Wei Wuxian exactly what the juniors are up to. With them thus distracted, Jiang Cheng explains, “It’s not that they’re necessarily bad. The problem is that whenever they agree to a meeting, they tend to come with… I suppose you'd call them 'expectations'.” Lan Xichen blinks, “Expectations? You mean, requirements?”“No,” Jiang Cheng is quick to say, “The two are not the same. You see, when they come to see me, what they really want is to see what type of horrible person would demand so many requirements of their wife. You can imagine that with that sort of attitude, they don’t bother asking why I might have those requirements.” He chuckles darkly, “And so, with them so eager to think me unreasonable and monstrous… who am I to disappoint them?”Lan Xichen’s eyes widen, his hand flying up to his mouth. Was that a giggle? “You mean to say that you…”“Give them what they want. Behave exactly as they expect me to. My reputation is set in stone,” Jiang Cheng smirks. “So why bother trying to change their mind?”At this, Lan Xichen lets out a sharp laugh, which draws everyone’s attention. He quickly waves them off, covering his mouth and flushed cheeks to hide his glee. “That is… that is to say, if you don’t mind me asking another thing, what is the reason for your requirements then?”Jiang Cheng shrugs.“My mother, my sister, and pretty much every woman I’ve ever known have left me with certain standards. It’s mostly down to my sister though, who not many people thought of as being anything special.” He squints at Jin Ling in the distance, who has run over so that he can properly bully the junior juniors to do his bidding. “What she lacked in physical strength and cultivation, she made up for in many other ways. It forced her to be hardworking, resourceful, humble… and kind.”Lan Xichen hums softly, “To think that those unsuccessful matches really lost out on hearing this as an answer. They might have actually learnt something had they bothered to ask and not first assumed.” Jiang Cheng nods, smiling. “Also, I suppose it’d be nice if whoever I marry can’t beat me up,” he adds, shrugging. “Which is why I request the cultivation level not too high. I’m just saying. Having one woman in my life who doesn't enjoy scaring me out of my wits would be… refreshing.”“Wouldn’t it be better to find someone who 'won’t' rather than 'can’t' beat you up though?” Jiang Cheng shoots him an unimpressed look. “I’m trying to be realistic here, Zewu-Jun.”He opens his mouth to say something else, but then he lifts his head with a proud smile. Up ahead a tall red figure emerges, walking beside Sizhui who is positively glowing with excitement. Jiang Cheng returns to his place standing guard at the door, folds his arms and lifts his chin. Right then.It’s showtime. The way things have been set up makes everyone (except for Wei Wuxian, of course) shift around a little nervously. Eventually, it’s Nie Huaisang who asks, “Isn’t this a little bit… extreme?”“Tsk.” Jin Ling sniffs haughtily. “It was agreed one of the challenges would be planned by me. I’m allowed to choose whatever I want.”“Which is?”“Shoot the targets. One arrow each shot. Blindfolded.”To be fair, it isn’t by any means the most difficult challenge one could give Lan Wangji, who is just as skilled (if not more) with a bow as Jin Ling. The concern is rather for the three “targets”, each of whom looks like they might faint at any moment, especially after having been bullied by Jin Ling into agreeing to the role. The Young Mistress sticks his nose in the air. “It was either this or single combat,” he says, adding confidently, “But that would have taken too long.”“…” It's amazing that no one laughs.Jiang Cheng barely manages to resist the urge to shout at his nephew and smack him down to size. The impact his palm makes on his forehead makes the world spin for a dizzying second. The arrogance of youth! Lan Wangji merely dips his chin, the action so solemn that Jiang Cheng wonders if he’s deliberately trying to be condescending.“Alright then, begin!”Jin Ling scoffs immediately, fiddling with an arrow. “Is that the best you can do? Run faster!”The boys stumble around (“moving targets!” Nie Huaisang reports to the bride in a hiss), wincing with each footstep and holding the targets as high above their heads as they can reach. Jin Ling ties his blindfold and lifts his bow. At this point, Jiang Cheng turns to Lan Xichen, “Is this going a little bit too far?”It's too late to do anything.Pssht! Psssht! Pssht! Jin Ling rips off the blindfold and beams. The three boys have fallen to their knees, each target bearing a perfect shot.“Wait a second,” Wei Wuxian calls. “If it’s meant to be a challenge, how can Lan Zhan beat Jin Ling if he’s doing exactly the same thing?”He makes a good point. In response to this, Lan Wangji ties his blindfold so it also covers his ears, spins himself around a few times, and ends up facing backwards. Nie Huaisang narrates all of this to the delighted idiot behind the door, who laughs when he adds that—funnily enough, the junior juniors seem more relieved to be targets for Lan Wangji, even with all the added handicaps. In short, according to the nominated adjudicator (Nie Huaisang), the first challenge is won, which moves them onto the next task. Jiang Cheng bends to pull out of his bag… a mysterious looking jar. He cracks open the lid, and immediately Wei Wuxian calls out, “What’s that I’m smelling? Is that food?” It is indeed ‘food’ in the sense of being something meant to be eaten. Everyone outside crowds around to see. What follows are a lot of gasps of horror and some gagging, with Lan Xichen coughing and wheezing. He rasps out, “My friend, I must confirm—this is safe for consumption, right?”“Every ingredient in this is perfectly edible.”It’s at this moment that the Second Mini Jade runs back huffing and puffing. It’s anyone’s guess how many rules he’s broken today. “I’m back, I'm back!” he pants, bending over in half. “What did I miss?”“Where have you been?” Jin Ling demands, hands on hips.“Calming Teacher down,” Sizhui explains, patting his fellow Jade on the back. “Good job,” he adds.“Calming him down?!”“Alright, distracting him,” Sizhui amends, smiling thinly. “We were a little worried about his blood pressure.”“You thought that sending that one over would help lower Lan Qiren’s blood pressure?” Jiang Cheng asks incredulously. “What is that I’m smelling? Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian thumps the door, sounding panicked. “It smells spicy! You can’t feed Lan Zhan spicy! He’ll die!”“What?” Jingyi exclaims, springing back up. The moment his eyes land on the jar of soup, the blood drains out of his face. “Oh no, no, no! He can't eat that! This is too cruel! I can't watch!” he wails from behind Sizhui, eyes flitting between Lan Wangji and the soup.“Jingyi-xiong, is this the corpse poison antidote you told us about?” Ouyang asks, peering at the jar with huge, terrified eyes. His voice drops to a whisper, “Will it really kill him?”Lan Wangji stares at the thick, steaming concoction. The redness matches his wedding robes perfectly. Even Jin Ling looks a little bit scared and tugs at Jiang Cheng’s sleeve. “Uncle, are you sure? I really think this might kill him.”“Nonsense,” he scoffs, pouring out a bowl. “This is the same soup I used to test your father’s courage. If he doesn’t drink it all, then he doesn’t deserve your idiot uncle.” He narrows his eyes at Lan Wangji, “Do you want him or not?”Everyone holds their breaths. The Second Jade bravely takes the offered bowl.“Is he not even allowed any water?” Jingyi whispers loudly.“Lan Zhan, here’s what you do,” Wei Wuxian says. “Drink it down as fast as possible. All in one. Don’t breathe, don’t stop. Most importantly, don’t let it touch your tongue!”Jiang Cheng kicks the door, hissing, “You’re not supposed to be helping him!”“The last challenge is mine. It will help you, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, letting the junior juniors flock around him for comfort. Each one is whimpering about Hanguang-Jun dying, which Jiang Cheng finds especially hilarious.On Wei Wuxian’s side, all he hears is silence for a few seconds. Then: utter mayhem.“He did it! He did it!”“Hanguang-Jun, are you okay?!”“Start the next challenge, quick, quick!”There is the sound of guqin strings being strummed. Surely there isn’t a song that can soothe a burnt tongue?! “What’s happening out there? Jiang Cheng!”Instead, Lan Xichen answers, “Third challenge: dance.”Wei Wuxian thinks he must have heard wrong. “Dance?”“Are you ready, A-Yuan?” Lan Xichen asks, to which a fast accompaniment begins. That type of dancing too? Not elegant, courtly dancing?! “It will be better if you move fast, Wangji,” he promises his brother, “Dancing vigorously will sweat it out!”Now, he is the one in agony. “But that’s not… you can’t—you can’t make him dance and not let me see!”Right at that moment, Jiang Cheng lets out a bark of laughter.“Incredible,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “How is he even doing that?”Wei Wuxian starts bashing at the door. “Doing what? Doing what? Huaisang, I’m begging you—” The music stops. “No… is it over?!”“It’s over… he passed.”The door bursts open. Wei Wuxian immediately throws himself at the flushed, red-faced man and throws back his veil. In front of everyone, paying no mind to their horrified expressions, he engulfs his husband(-to-be?) in a kiss. Jiang Cheng sputters, face going red. “Are you kidding me? You’ve not even done the bows yet!”As soon as he pulls back, he urgently clutches the Jade’s face with both hands. “Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, you have to dance for me later! Promise me you will! Swear it!” Unable to deny him anything, the poor man nods helplessly, trapped in Wei Wuxian’s embrace. “By the way, Jiang Cheng,” he adds, licking his lips, “Do you have any more of that soup? It's actually pretty good.”Jiang Cheng shakes his head, but hands over the jar. “You’re insane, Wei Wuxian.”“Alright.” Lan Xichen claps his hands together. “If everyone would please follow me to the main hall,” he smiles, “I believe it’s time for some tea.” Even the main hall has been bedecked in red, red, and more red. The Spiders have truly outdone themselves managing to do all this in the little time they had. However, amidst all the stunning decor, the biggest surprise by far is the man already sitting primly in his chair. The expression on his face seems to either say it's incredibly painful for me to be here or this seat is secretly a torture device. Whichever one it is, knowing that he will be sitting in one of those chairs too, Jiang Cheng sends a quick prayer for his ass.Lan Qiren opens his eyes slowly. It’s anyone’s guess how long he must have been meditating to be so calm in the face of all… this. Whatever Jingyi did seems to have done wonders for his mood. His astonishingly placid gaze sweeps across the wedding party, bypassing Wei Wuxian with barely a twitch, to land on his youngest nephew, who in contrast—Looks like he’s trying to process a lot of emotions, and is barely holding it together. “Shufu,” he breathes.“Wangji,” the man greets, and then he turns slowly to the bane of his life. Through gritted teeth, “Wei Wuxian.”The atmosphere has changed dramatically since they left the jingshi. Far more solemn, far more sedate—as befitting the most sacred part of a wedding.Since it was never expected for Lan Qiren to attend the tea ceremony, his presence is both unexpected and significant, especially considering how much he disapproves of the wedding altogether. It’s obvious that he came here for Lan Wangji, his most favourite pupil, his precious Second Jade (or, according to Wei Wuxian, his 'beloved napa cabbage').Basically, this means a lot, so Wei Wuxian better not fuck it up.“Teacher,” Wei Wuxian bows deeply, raising his hands in respect. This is where things continue to become even more complicated. The division of relatives is uneven, there are no parents, who is the bride and who is the groom—and where does everyone sit, and who gets served tea first?! Jiang Cheng decides to follow Lan Xichen’s lead, and therefore takes the chair opposite Lan Qiren, leaving the First Jade to sit in the middle. The chair, as it turns out, is secretly a fucking torture device. The couple kneel together on red cushions, and automatically serve Lan Qiren first. To be safe, Lan Wangji pours this one, and then it’ll be Wei Wuxian’s turn. Eldest to youngest, it makes sense. Jiang Cheng honestly isn’t too bothered by this arrangement.(In fact, he can’t help but feel bad for Lan Wangji, who has to pour all this tea when he’s probably still suffering from the soup.)“Zewu-Jun, please accept this tea.” Wei Wuxian is careful handing it over, but his smile is so bright and lively. It’s a wonder that nothing spills. “Thank you for taking care of us. Both of us.”“Welcome to the family,” Lan Xichen replies warmly, drinking the sweet tea.Now it’s his turn, Jiang Cheng wonders who will be the one to serve him. If they’ve decided to alternate, that would mean... “Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan WangJi says, holding out a steaming cup. “Please accept this tea.” The Second Jade bows rather deeply, his forehead grazing his knees. Jiang Cheng takes a moment to look at this man. This man, who has wooed his brother; who has stood by him, fought for him, protected him and waited for him. From the red ribbon tied around his noble forehead to his steady gaze, to his righteous face and posture and bearing. He stares at this man who will take his brother away, this man who Wei Wuxian has promised himself to—His eyes cut across, sensing someone watching him.Wei Wuxian… there’s an actual spark of fear in those unfamiliar eyes. Jiang Cheng balks. What is there to be afraid of? It occurs to him then that Wei Wuxian showed not a trace of fear when Lan Qiren was served tea, but now with his own brother, he worries for his husband. How ridiculous. The fool drank the soup already, didn’t he? What is there to fear?Jiang Cheng gulps the tea, lotus seeds and all. “Thank you,” his brother-in-law says solemnly, “For everything you have done.”He simply nods, unable to think of how else to respond.Tradition has been stretched so many different ways, that the rest of the tea is served one-by-one to everyone present, roughly in order of age but mostly in order of whoever comes first.Once everyone has finished drinking, Jiang Cheng pulls out yet another box from his sleeve, as do Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren, and even Nie Huaisang steps forwards. Eldest to youngest, yet again. It wouldn’t be very Lan to hand out money packets or gold, so Jiang Cheng is rather curious to see what their gifts are.“Homemade tea,” Lan Qiren says, handing over an engraved tin. “A medicinal blend. Good for the mind and the body.”“This is Wangji’s forehead ribbon,” Lan Xichen explains, unlatching a lacquer wood box. “To be given whenever you’re ready, though you may also keep it in the box if you wish.”“Sorry for being predictable, but here,” Nie Huaisang says, opening up a large painted fan. A golden dragon and blazing phoenix dominate the majority of the fan, but at the bottom corner are also two tiny rabbits. One black and one white.Finally, Jiang Cheng clears his throat. Somehow, by some stroke of luck, none of their gifts were the same thing, but now he wonders if his is too simple. He opens his box, presenting two jade combs. It wasn’t what he would have chosen himself, but he was running out of ideas and energy by this point. He has nothing really to say, which is good because Wei Wuxian exclaims, “Butterflies!”And suddenly Sizhui breaks out into a coughing fit, prompting several of the disciples to start slapping him on the back, nearly bringing him to his knees.“Yeah, what about them?” Jiang Cheng had told the craftsman to put a lotus at one corner and a small curling cloud at the other, and heck, why not add a couple of butterflies whilst he's at it? It was a lot to fit onto such small combs, but he paid good money, and the man was both skilled and determined to please his Sect Leader.“They’re beautiful,” Lan Xichen comments, eyes curving upwards when Wei Wuxian needles a red-faced Sizhui to put both combs into his fathers’ hair. Jiang Cheng cannot understand what the big deal is, but... at least they seem to like them?The wedding party then proceeds to the ancestral altar, where the couple first bow in gratitude to the heavens and the earth; then to their substitute “parents”, and the Lan family tablets; the last bow is for each other, after which—BANG! BANG! BANG!“I thought we said no firecrackers!” Jiang Cheng says, frowning at his brother, who is rolling around on the floor, laughing at all the panicking Lans. Jingyi has hurled the string of firecrackers far away in his panic, but the damage is already done. Lan Qiren’s face is slowly turning purple as he yells something at the juniors, who have recovered rather quickly, and are now throwing handfuls of rice about. “What?” Lan Xichen shouts, tugging at his sleeve. “What did you say?!”“I THOUGHT WE SAID NO FIRECRACKERS!!” he yells back, but it’s pointless trying to be heard over the racket. In the middle of it all, Lan Wangji somehow manages to grab hold of his husband and tie his white forehead ribbon around his wrist. In return, Wei Wuxian offers his bell to be exchanged, managing to throw Jiang Cheng a wink moments before doing so. The two are curled together in the eye of the storm, lost in their own little world.Then Jin Ling lets out a howl of outrage, spitting out a mouthful of rice and immediately going to tackle a cackling Jingyi. Sizhui is right on his heels, shaking his head like a wet dog.Jiang Cheng ends up throwing his head back, laughing so hard his throat aches, and he has to lean on Lan Xichen’s arm to not lose his balance. Nie Huaisang fans him in an attempt to calm him down, but there is no calming this joy in his heart—unrestrained, unfettered, and alarmingly freeing. For a second, if he were to squint, he could pretend he’s at a completely different wedding. The vibrant colours, the happy couple, the sweet taste of tea, the noise. If he were to close his eyes, he could picture a blushing young bride, an equally blushing rich young master, and miles and miles of smiling faces.He opens his eyes, still chuckling to himself, and is glad to find that reality is not much different, and definitely not worse. A small procession of Yunmeng Jiang disciples have been invading the kitchens whilst they were doing all of this, let in by the patrol-guards Jiang Cheng bribed before. He shrugs at Lan Xichen when he raises his brows at the huge banquet that has been spread over several tables. It is a feast of colour and variety, but Jiang Cheng was careful to stress the importance of at least half the food being made relatively palatable for the less adventurous Lans.His exact words were: bland; as if you were cooking for monks; no grease, no meat, no spice. “What?" he demands, when Lan Xichen keeps on throwing him odd looks. "What was I supposed to do? Let the bride starve at his own wedding?”Then he spots Wei Wuxian, who is already stuffing his face full of meat, and pulls a face after watching this go on for a few minutes. Trust this man to forget his manners at his own wedding.“Sorry, I take it back. I should have let him starve. That is horrifying. Do you not feed him at all here?”“We try to, but unfortunately Young Master Wei’s tastes don't tend to agree with our diet.”“God, it’s like watching a fox maul a pheasant.”“Tea?”“Yes, please. Well, I suppose at least he’s… enjoying himself?” Jiang Cheng sips his tea and tries not to flinch when Wei Wuxian swallows a bun in one gulp. Holy shit. ”We’d never hear the end of it if he was left with nothing to eat.”“Then I must thank you,” Lan Xichen agrees, voice full of laughter. He watches Jingyi pile a plate full of chicken wings and gleefully run off with his pilfered goods, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. “Hmm, yes. I must thank you very much.”After a while, Jiang Cheng realises it’s up to him to try and stop his brother making a fool of himself. His husband is certainly in no hurry to try and contain the disaster zone. (Though, to be fair, no one is really looking. Everyone is too busy eating. Yunmeng really is the home of good cooking.) He snags Wei Wuxian by the collar, briefly stops to exchange a nod with Lan Wangji (who is methodically plucking rice out of Sizhui’s hair), and drags him over to a quiet corner.“Jiang Cheng,” he immediately starts whining. “I was eating!”“You were being shameless, is what you were doing,” Jiang Cheng scolds, slapping a napkin onto his sauce-covered cheek. It sticks and doesn’t fall off. “Ugh, disgusting! Clean yourself up!” As he’s wiping his face, Jiang Cheng hesitates, but then decides—it’s now or never. “Wei Wuxian, there’s one more thing I have to give you.”The man hums, patting the comb in his hair. “Another gift? Jiang Cheng, you’ve already outdone yourself!”“Not a wedding gift. It’s for you to use on your mission.”Instead of a honeymoon, the newlyweds have planned to head out on the mission—pretty much as soon as the wedding is over. Wei Wuxian’s excuse was that it would make their marriage symmetrical. Starting with a mission, then (elopement) a wedding, then a honeymoon, now another wedding, and finally another mission. It didn’t really matter what the reason was, but Lan Wangji agreed, and so it was what they went ahead with.Jiang Cheng pulls a long object out of his sleeve, feeling the weight of it lighten significantly. The scabbard is plain, the sword is also plain, but he added a red tassel in the hope that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t point out how plain everything was. Wei Wuxian takes the sword in both hands and gives him a confused look.“For now, of at least until your core is strong enough, it would be easier for you to fly and fight with a brand new blade,” he explains. “This sword is newly forged, unclaimed, and unnamed. It won't be too powerful for you. You can use it until you’re able to wield Suibian again.”Jiang Cheng didn’t want to force this on him and was hesitant to even consider offering it in the first place. Already his offers to accompany him on the mission were rejected (twice), and he… he knows it’s not his place anymore to provide his brother with anything, especially now that he’s married into the Lan clan. But he also knows that a Yunmeng blade would fit more comfortably in his brother’s hand...There’s no better alternative for their particular fighting style than a sword like this.“You shouldn't have,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, unsheathing the sword an inch. The metal flashes silver-white, so pure and unsullied that both of them hold their breaths. Then, like with the bell, Wei Wuxian presses his finger to the side until it bleeds, but this time he also leaks some spiritual energy into his blood. With another flash of light, the blade accepts him. Both let out a sigh of relief, and then Wei Wuxian gives him a small, watery smile. "A-Cheng."He releases his brother back to the banquet and stands at the edge of the party for a while, content to watch everything from the shadows. What more can he give? He's run out of gifts. He's got nothing left, but really... nothing more is needed. Everyone is happy, everything is good. Jiang Cheng rocks back on his heels, clutching his elbows to ward off the cold.After gathering himself, Jiang Cheng returns to the party like nothing happened.Soon enough the sky grows dark, or it becomes late enough at least for the newlyweds to excuse themselves. The guests stand, lifting their cups as Lan WangJi summons Bichen, and the couple rise into the sky in a swirl of rippling red silk and gold. Sizhui hisses something at Jingyi, his face equally as crimson as he fights him on something, but then the latch opens and a swarm of butterflies spills into the air.Wei Wuxian’s laughter rings out into the night, long after they have disappeared from sight.The party continues and will keep on going at least for a few more hours. At least until the gong signals curfew.“What’s with the butterflies?” Jiang Cheng muses aloud, wandering over to where the two Mini Jades are still bickering over an empty wicker basket, and Jin Ling is sprawled out groaning about his bloated stomach. Sizhui immediately shuts up, and so Jingyi decides to speak in his stead. “They’re just terribly romantic, don’t you think Senior Jiang?” he asks, turning to sigh longingly at the moon. The last few butterflies make their way upwards, twirling in a mesmerising spiralling dance. “Weddings are… weddings are so lovely. It makes you think, doesn’t it?”Not this again. Jiang Cheng despairs. First from his own peers, now from the younger generation—waxing poetic about this and that. With all the blood in their bodies gone towards digesting food, he cannot hope for more stimulating conversation than this. Looking around, most of the guests are sacked out, a lot of them collapsed in their seats, faces flushed and sighing happily to themselves.“You’re far too young to be thinking of such things,” he says gravely.“But Senior Wei…” Jingyi yawns, “Senior Wei said that he and Hanguang-Jun started having feelings (“Jingyi!” Sizhui squeaks.) for each other when they were our age.”He blinks at Jiang Cheng lethargically, waiting for him to explain this contradiction. Jiang Cheng gapes for a few heartbeats, struck by that confession. Sizhui whines in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands, but Jingyi remains unwavering. Then Jin Ling lifts his head just to look at him too, which is when Jiang Cheng decides that this is the last straw.“Wei Wuxian said? Why should you care what that clown said?!” he snaps. “And why would you even repeat something so shameless? You shouldn’t be looking to someone like him as an example at all!”“Why not? Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun are good people.”Good people? Good people doesn’t negate the fact they're completely shameless together. There wasn’t any wine in the food. Jiang Cheng is sure of that, and yet there is a glazed look to each of the juniors’ eyes. He observes Jingyi warily, wondering when the boy became so thick-faced to be able to say all these things.“Uncle, have you ever had feelings for someone?” Jin Ling slurs. That’s it. That’s enough. These youngsters are drunk on something, but Jiang Cheng is not sticking around to find out what that something is. Just as he leaps to his feet, Jin Ling grabs at his belt. The impertinence! Jiang Cheng spins around but is halted by Jin Ling’s firm grasp. He has the grip of a fucking monkey! “Jin Ling, let go,” he orders, tugging at sticky fingers. “A-Ling, I won’t say it again.”He’s released then and scurries away as fast as his legs can take him.The banquet is busy with most of the clan’s disciples and all of the guests lounging about. Jiang Cheng is determined to find somewhere completely devoid of people. He just needs a moment to himself and only himself. Scanning the room, he spots Nie Huaisang using his whole arm to fan himself, practically lying across the seat cushions as he converses with Lan Xichen beside him.As far as he can tell, the First Jade looks alright. Good. He turns his attention back to looking for—“Senior Jiang?”Oh god. What is it now? Oh, it’s just Sizhui. Thank fuck. He can maybe stand Sizhui a little bit longer than the others. Maybe.“I wanted to apologise for Jingyi,” Sizhui offers, hovering by his side. “He’s a little bit...”“He’s a fool,” Jiang Cheng says, crossing his arms. “But you don’t need to apologise for him. I understand the trouble of having a friend with no concept of boundaries.”Sizhui blushes, but mumbles in agreement.Thinking this is all he came for, Jiang Cheng tries to leave again, but then Sizhui starts following him. Dear God, what will it take to find some peace and quiet? It’s as though the moment as their usual seniors departed, the juniors became orphaned ducklings, latching onto the nearest person to substitute!“Senior Jiang, I… I don’t mean to impose, but I was wondering…” Big, dark eyes blink up at him. “I was wondering which part of it bothered you.”“Which part of what?”“Talking about the… the feelings.”Is he asking for advice? Holy shit. Jiang Cheng curses a storm in his head. What did he do to deserve this?! “The whole thing bothers me,” he answers honestly, unable to stand Sizhui’s bright eyes boring into his soul. He’s just like his uncle, this one. Asks questions around the question, coaxing the answer out of him with a sweet smile. It’s far too skilful, is what it is. Sneaky. It shouldn’t be allowed. “Look, I have literally no experience. Anyone here could tell you that. If you want tips, you’ll have better luck waiting for your parents, alright?”“I’m not asking for advice!” Sizhui sputters, the blush spreading to his ears. “It’s just—I just…”“Well? Spit it out!”“Love fascinates me.”He says this so honestly, so plainly, that it completely catches Jiang Cheng off-guard. Sizhui shrinks, and as he stares at the top of his bowed head, he cannot fathom why—for the love of god, why he would come talk to him about this, of all people. Lan Xichen is literally right over there. The other two juniors are far more eager to talk about this. Even Nie Huaisang would be a better option.What is it with these Lans coming to spill their hearts out to him all of a sudden?!“The butterflies,” Sizhui says shyly, almost too quietly to be heard. “Let me tell you about the butterflies.”Instead of perfect solitude, Jiang Cheng finds himself sitting and listening to his adopted brother’s adopted son blush and stammer through a rather sweet childhood memory.The whole thing comes in fits and bursts, and there are parts missing. Parts Sizhui cannot remember, he says, biting at his lip. By the end of it, Sizhui is unable to look at him, and Jiang Cheng is wondering what the chances were that he commissioned butterflies on those jade combs. By the end of it, the other juniors have somehow managed to find them, which is when he realises there’s really no point trying to escape them. They have the advantage of youth and numbers on their side. He submits to his fate and slowly lets the burble of the boys’ hushed conversation lull him into a sort of trance. It’s not so bad, and after listening to them for a while, Jiang Cheng even feels his tongue loosening a little.Listening to them gush on and on about romance, there is the childish urge to burst that bubble.“ —is never a burden,” Jingyi declares passionately. “The more difficult it is, the more it is worth pursuing, the more it’s worth fighting for!” He slams a hand on his thigh. "Love makes you brave. Fearless, even!"“Rubbish,” Jiang Cheng says unthinkingly. The juniors fall silent, and suddenly he feels Jin Ling’s gaze upon him. He turns to his nephew, “Your mother said to me once that the only people who do not fear anything are the ones without love.” It’s a rather heavy statement to make and takes a few beats to be fully processed.“Why would she say that?” Jingyi asks, frowning. “They have nothing to lose,” Jiang Cheng explains. Her story comes word-by-word, plucked from his memory, pouring from his mouth. “She told me a story about a man—a servant who was drafted to war by his king. With nothing to his name, with no one who loved him, he became the world’s most ruthless fighter. The best warrior. He didn’t fear death until the very last moment when he realised there was no one left but him."Then he realised how empty his life was, and it’s in that moment that he died.” The story is a little dark, but he follows it through to its conclusion. “She said that compared to the king who lost his entire kingdom, he believed he’d been robbed of a peaceful life, and so his resentment turned him into a vengeful ghost.”He turns to see whether the story has left any sort of impression on the boys, and finds Jingyi mouthing something to Sizhui (something ‘Yang’?). When they notice him watching, Jingyi quickly pipes up, “What a sad story.” Then he muses aloud, “So, is the moral that to lose a kingdom is nothing compared to losing a family?”Jiang Cheng shrugs, but Jin Ling scoffs loudly. “The servant didn’t even have a family, stupid! Obviously the moral is: ‘better the cottage where one is merry, than the palace where one weeps.’” “That’s basically what I said!" Jingyi exclaims. "How is that any different?!”“Isn’t the meaning exactly what Senior Jiang said before?” Sizhui cuts in, squeezing himself between the two before they can start throwing hands. “Those who don’t fear death are those without love. When the servant realised what he was missing, that’s when he became afraid…”He trails off, and after briefly agreeing with him, the other two boys immediately start squabbling again.Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, digging his thumbs into his temples and prays for the curfew gong to come anytime now. He tries to catch Sizhui’s eye, hoping to find solidarity in this strangely mature young man, but Sizhui is looking at something over his shoulder. Jiang Cheng turns around just in time to catch sight of a flash of long dark hair. Instantly his hand falls to Sandu.“Senior Jiang,” Sizhui says tightly. Jiang Cheng stares at the place the person disappeared, and keeps on staring until they eventually emerge again. Zidian crackles. “Sect Leader Jiang, please don’t—”“I need to go,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly. “You juniors stay right here. There’s something I need to see to.”Jiang Cheng walks steadily, his attention swinging between the shadowy figure edging his way closer to the juniors, and the person he swore to keep an eye on. Up ahead, Lan Xichen is still chatting with Nie Huaisang, who has his fan opened and spread across his face. He’s totally oblivious to the fact that Lan Xichen is listing over quite a bit, and though he is smiling and nodding along, his body language practically screams of exhaustion.It’s not that late yet, but it’s clear that he’s struggling. “Excuse me, Zewu-Jun,” he calls, walking over to the pair. Nie Huaisang sits up, the fan dropping into his lap, and smiles lazily at Jiang Cheng. “Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen replies with a smile, “How might I be of assistance?”“If you don’t mind, I’d like to retire for the night.”“Of course.” Lan Xichen rises slowly, lips thinning briefly as he does. The smile is slapped on again, as soon as he straightens up. “Please, follow me.” “So, did you have a good time?”The walk has become more of a stroll, which Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind really. After all the hustle and bustle of the wedding before, it’s nice to be able to enjoy the peaceful calm of the night. Though he cannot see much of the flowers or the garden ornaments, the air is full of the sweet perfume of jasmine flowers and the sound of crickets chirping in a chorus. “I suppose,” he offers, and then adds, “You did a good job with everything. All things considered, it went relatively smoothly.”“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything without help from a friend,” Lan Xichen says, which makes Jiang Cheng’s mouth twitch. “From your attitude towards talking about weddings before though, I’ll admit, I was a little worried about your opinion. But,” the smile transforms into a teasing grin, “I wonder… there may be some hope for you yet. You might even look forward to your own wedding someday.”Jiang Cheng snorts. “Just because I enjoyed this wedding doesn’t mean I expect the same for myself. No,” he sighs, “It’s not like every marriage will end up like theirs, you know. Even when I do marry, I don’t expect it’ll end up being anything like this.”Lan Xichen nods, probably understanding exactly what Jiang Cheng means.Arranged marriages are often a solemn affair, with all the glitz and glamour of this same wedding, but none of the heart. With all the pressures of your entire clan depending on a successful outcome, a single mistake might spell disaster. It's a lot of stress without the guarantee of being with someone you know you'll like. “I’m not worried though," Jiang Cheng says. "It's something that’s been expected of me all my life, so to dread something inevitable would just be foolish.”This earns him a hum of approval. “It’s good that you are prepared.”“Well, I don’t put much stock into marriages anyway. They’re just business agreements for us, in the end,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. “It’s not about love or happiness. It’s about getting things done, the same as anything else.”“Your opinions on marriage seem rather jaded.”“Men like me simply aren’t made for marriage.”“You sound quite certain about that,” Lan Xichen comments, somehow managing to avoid coming across as judgemental. “It’s not part of my culture.” Jiang Cheng explains. Then he pauses, but seeing Lan Xichen turn to him with interest, he thinks it over: these are hardly clan secrets, it should be alright to share it. “Meishan Yu doesn’t tend to place much importance on marriage. What is agreed between two people is kept private, and more like a promise than anything legally binding."Most of the time marriage doesn’t even come into the picture. An arranged marriage would require absolute trust between the parents, or if not that, only be offered in the direst of circumstances.”He briefly reflects on his sister’s marriage, which started out as a promise between two sworn sisters, became catalysed by war, and came round full circle to match exactly what the two mothers had intended. Then on his mother’s marriage, which she took into her own hands. Lan Xichen looks fascinated. “Then how do children inherit? And what about having children? How would fidelity between partners be guaranteed, or is it not?”Jiang Cheng frowns for a moment and then laughs. “So many questions! What do you take me for, a freelance matchmaker? This is definitely not my area of expertise! If you want answers, Linzhen would be able to give you more information.”For a while, they walk along the path in silence. The sounds from the banquet have almost completely faded away by the time Lan Xichen says, “I’m starting to think that Young Master Wei was right. Jiang Wanyin is indeed a secret romantic.”Jiang Cheng spins on his heel. “I didn’t come here to be insulted—”“Alright, alright!” Lan Xichen laughs, grabbing at the back of his belt. “I’m sorry, don’t go! I take it back!”He harrumphs and stomps around a little, but then they resume the same rhythm as before.The pace they’re going would have been excruciatingly slow for Jiang Cheng to bear in any other circumstance, but after such a large meal, and with the night coming alive all around them… it’s a different experience altogether and not half that bad. He checks from time to time on his companion, wondering how long it will take him to notice where they are going.Even after years of not having to do so, Jiang Cheng used to be an expert on how to handle drunk people. In his youth, he dragged a certain drunken asshole home so many times, that it became second nature to know how to covertly steer someone in the right direction without them even noticing.From a quick glance, he can’t help noticing that Lan Xichen appears none the wiser, mostly due to the fact that his mind seems entirely elsewhere. The expression on his face gives nothing away, but Jiang Cheng can’t help thinking… “I saw you talking with Nie Huaisang.” Immediately he realises how abrupt that was, and cringes at his mistake. It’s still mostly unknown to him how much Lan Xichen is aware of the situation. Then he adds, “What were you talking about? Was he being annoying?” just to dig the hole that bit deeper.Lan Xichen looks a little taken aback. “No, it was a pleasant conversation actually. He was telling me what herbs are good for aiding with meditation. Then he offered me help with regards to protection.”Well that answers that. Jiang Cheng recognises the airy lilt of Lan Xichen’s tone as one of masked bitterness. For the top cultivator in the land, it must be a blow to his pride to now rely on others for protection.“That was bold of him to offer,” he can’t help saying. “Are you okay with him getting involved?”“I have no issue with Huaisang,” he replies evenly.Jiang Cheng almost scoffs, thinking about the incident in the temple, and how Lan Xichen managed to lose his temper at the very end.“I have never blamed him. We all have brothers, and I believe each of us would seek our own revenge. If they were taken from us, and we were given the opportunity, why wouldn't we? If someone hurt Wangji, I… I don’t know what I would do.” He sighs. “Who can blame him for seeking justice for his brother?”(Maybe you, who he kept in the dark? Did he not owe you the truth, as his brother’s beloved sworn brother? As the one he calls ‘Xichen-ge’, who he has depended on for so many years, did he not owe you in that regard?)“To answer your question, I wouldn’t mind his help. What I want though is for him to find peace in his decisions, now that it’s all over.” Suddenly Lan Xichen stops walking. (Ah, so he’s noticed.) “Isn't that strange. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one escorting you to the guest quarters? But it seems that… Jiang Wanyin is the one who has been secretly guiding our feet all this time.”“Took you long enough,” Jiang Cheng smirks. Lan Xichen smiles back, “And where exactly are you taking us?”“The hanshi.”He goes quiet, the smile sliding off his face. Inside, Jiang Cheng starts panicking again. He knew this was overstepping his bounds, but what was he supposed to do? Leave him at the mercy of Nie Huaisang’s endlessly moronic chatter?! That shameless man is forever asking for advice! Jiang Cheng knows how he can get after a party. The last thing anyone wants is to be hassled by a whiny—“You didn’t have to do this,” Lan Xichen says quietly. “I was perfectly alright.”“It’s not like anyone minds,” Jiang Cheng insists, waving an arm in the direction they came. “They can handle themselves, you know. You shouldn’t have to push yourself.”Again, silence stretches out between them. It takes what feels like far too long for Lan Xichen to come up with a response. Then, without warning, he starts walking off in a different direction. In the pitch darkness, his white robes make him seem like he is floating. When he sits down too quickly, Jiang Cheng leaps forwards, thinking at first that he fell.But he somehow managed to seek out a bench blindly, knowing exactly where it was from memory. He raises his moon-pale face towards him, eyes tinged with a strange sort of sadness. “Then I will go to the hanshi, but first, I want to stay out here for a little bit longer. You mustn’t…” he sighs. “Don't feel like you have to stay out here with me. I will be fine. Please go—enjoy the party.”With that, Lan Xichen leans backwards to take in the night’s sky. It’s a clear dismissal as any, but he’s too… him being quiet like this makes Jiang Cheng feel uncomfortable leaving him. That ever-present smile of his is nowhere to be seen, not even a glimmer of it visible in any part of his face. Everyone's wrong. When Lan Xichen isn't smiling, it doesn't mean he looks like his brother. He just doesn't look like himself, is all.Jiang Cheng huffs and trudges the last few steps, lifting his feet carefully to avoid tripping. “I can’t see the bench,” he grumbles. “Where do I sit?”Lan Xichen turns a little, looking at him with wide eyes. “Pardon?”
"The bench. Where is it?"
Seeing that Jiang Cheng is still there, and apparently in no hurry to leave, he lifts his left arm to show where the remaining bench is located. Jiang Cheng drops down and lands with a grimace. Is all the seating in the Cloud Recesses designed to be so painful? Lan Xichen murmurs something, reaching over to pat his back in consolation for his tailbone.“You can’t see the bench? I thought that Jiang’s were supposed to have exceptional vision?”“Yes, but with spiritual energy, not night vision! I’m not a fucking cat!” Jiang Cheng snarls, rubbing his bruised rump. Only after speaking does he realise he’s done it—he swore again. Right in front of Zewu-Jun. “Ah fuck.”Lan Xichen doesn’t seem fazed at all, and continues to pat his shoulder. “Jiang Wanyin is a kind person.” (Huh? Where did that come from?) “Even injuring himself just to sit with me. Truly a loyal friend.” Is he being mocked?! “Do you want me to leave? I will leave if you keep this up.”“You could if you want to. I meant it when I said I would be fine,” Lan Xichen says, sobering back to his previous sombreness. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out—”“Miss out on what? If I go back now, the banquet will be over. Then those overly sentimental juniors will hunt me down and start pestering me again. I’ve had quite enough of that for one night, thank you!” He huffs. “Honestly, it’s like they cannot go one hour without their precious Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun! Needy, the lot of them!”“They're just children,” Lan Xichen says, smiling. “But I have to warn you now, I’ll try my best not to pester you, but I am also feeling rather… sentimental.”“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng dismisses. “You can’t possibly be worse than that bunch of misty-eyed teens, asking me all sorts of bullsh—”The gong sounds. Lan Xichen’s eyes fly open, and Jiang Cheng can feel his entire body go tense. They listen to the last vibrations reverberate into nothing, and eventually Lan Xichen relaxes again. So much so that he doesn’t seem inclined to leave. Amazing.Jiang Cheng arches his brow. “Oh? You rebel.”This elicits a burst of laughter that seems to catch both of them by surprise. Embarrassed perhaps, Lan Xichen turns back to the stars, whilst Jiang Cheng squints at a row of tiny white figures in the distance, marching single-file in a straight line. The Lan disciples (the good, rule-abiding Lan disciples, that is) are heading off to bed. When the last one has disappeared from view, he joins the bad-boy sitting next to him in admiring the heavens. “It’s a good night for this,” he mutters. “Such a clear night's sky, though that’s probably due to it being so cold here in Gusu.”“It’s not that cold tonight.”“Mm.” In Jiang Cheng’s opinion, it’s tolerable. “It'll only get colder from here on. Autumn is just around the corner.”Lan Xichen turns to him suddenly. “When is the right season for harvesting lotus?”What a random question! “Uhhh, whenever you want really. It depends on what you want. Roots are available all year round, pods come after flowering, and the flowers bloom at any time but winter. Why do you ask?”“The letters you’ve written to me are full of such wonderful descriptions that it makes me want to visit Lotus Pier. Young Master Wei is always telling us how he spent his youth picking the lotus pods, but when I think about it, I would rather paint the flowers…”“Flower season is now. Right now. From summer to autumn is best.” Jiang Cheng studies Lan Xichen’s profile. Paint the flowers he says, gazing up at the stars. “You could come in autumn. There’ll still be a lot of flowers, and you can pick as many pods as you like as well. And if you want,” he adds, “You can even go to the festival whilst you’re there.”Immediately Lan Xichen’s attention returns to him. “Festival? What festival?”Jiang Cheng (boldly) prods Lan Xichen’s chin and jaw till he turns back to the stars, then raises his hand to direct his eye-line. There’s no way to really show him which stars he’s looking at, but it's better than doing nothing. “There are two stars up there separated by the Heavenly River. Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, they reach their closest point—”“Qixi Festival?” he turns around again, this time distinctly excited. “The Double Seventh?”“So you’ve heard of it?”“I have.”“And do you celebrate it here?”Lan Xichen shakes his head. “Not officially, but it’s a story our mother used to tell us often. She would ask us to observe it for her, and we would look for the star-crossed lovers every year, Zhïnu and Niulang, in the night’s sky—”“If we both know the story, you don’t need to say it,” Jiang Cheng says quickly, already sick of having heard it so many times. He can’t resist mentioning, “But just so you know, I think it’s all rubbish. If any of the story was true, a lot of trouble could have been avoided if the two had only learnt to exercise some restraint. Going gaga over each other was the problem, you see. Moderation is key, or so it should have been.”“What a very Lan thing of you to say.”“Yeah well... anyway, back to what I was saying—Qixi is becoming a pretty big deal in Yunmeng. Particularly around Lotus Pier. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is all Meishan Yu's fault.”“Meishan Yu?”Jiang Cheng nods grimly.“I totally, one-hundred per cent blame them for it. Don’t give me that look. It makes sense if you think about it. Due to our territories overlapping in some places, they tend to mingle a lot with the outer regions and exchange a lot of their customs with them. Minzhen told me once that it’s quite common for Meishan Yu disciples to share stories on their travels, but basically, they like chatting with the locals. A lot."Thanks to this, when all those villagers moved to Lotus Pier after the war, they brought a lot of those customs with them—including this goddamned stupid festival.” Jiang Cheng sniffs disdainfully. “It’s even gained so much popularity over the past decade, that you know what? Whether I declare it a public holiday or not, everyone will be celebrating regardless!”“How wonderful,” Lan Xichen beams.“Wonderful? What’s wonderful? A crowd of swooning maidens is wonderful? Exactly what part of having an endless stream of shameless lovesick young masters clogging up my streets sounds wonderful to you, Young Master Lan?!” he demands. “They come from everywhere! From all around!”Lan Xichen blinks slowly, and then answers: “All of it sounds wonderful.”“With all their sighing and giggling and godawful poetry, and all the other ridiculous things they do… it’s a nightmare every year!”The First Jade’s mouth twitches. “It seems that Young Master Jiang has some strong opinions on what constitutes ‘good poetry’.”“You don't need to be an expert to know when something is shitty. None of what I’ve heard deserves being presented—especially with the intention of courting a young maiden!”“Do you mean to say that it’s vulgar?”“Innuendoes and euphemisms everywhere, to the point that it’s quite frankly disturbing.”“Maybe one day you should show me your idea of what a proper poem is then. After copying so many texts, you must have a good idea of what works and what doesn’t.”“Tsk! What would I write about?”“Anything,” Lan Xichen gestures around, “Take today for example. What inspires you about tonight? Or what could you say about the wedding? How did it make you feel?”“We’re getting off-track here,” Jiang Cheng says dismissively. “The festival, Lan Xichen," he stresses, determined to get him to understand the sheer horror of it all.“But if it’s so awful, why do you want me to come?” he asks, bemused by Jiang Cheng’s impassioned rant.“Because… I don’t know.” He pauses. “I guess, if nothing else, there’ll be a good food at the market. Lots of fireworks and games and plenty of lotus pods for you to pick.”That silvery laughter returns, forcing a grudging smile out of Jiang Cheng too. “Well then, if Sect Leader Jiang insists that I come,” he chuckles, “How can I refuse?”Right then a gentle breeze wafts over a dense cloud of sweet jasmine. Whilst it smells lovely, Jiang Cheng can’t help noticing a slight shudder run through Lan Xichen. Though he hasn’t made any indication of it, he's probably getting tired. It’s late, and the longer they sit, the colder it’ll get.Even for a summer night, he has to remember—this is summer on a mountain, and Lan Xichen isn't...“You can come over whenever you want,” he distractedly, whilst thinking to himself: how do I convince this man to go to bed? “No need to ask. Just head down the river and tell the guards you’ve come for the lotus pods.”He laughs again, cheeks flushed pink from laughing so much. “Won’t they stop me if they think I’m coming to steal all your lotus pods though? Might I… might I ask that you lend me a token to avoid that situation?” Jiang Cheng pulls the jade token out of his pocket, tossing it a few times in the air before tucking it into his sleeve. “We don’t have fancy jade tokens at Lotus Pier. Everyone knows that. It’s simple: you enter the gates, be your usual polite self, go through a few security checks if necessary, and then walk right in.”“Simple,” he repeats, raising both brows.“Just think it over,” Jiang Cheng shrugs. “That’s all I’m asking.”“I will. I definitely will,” Lan Xichen promises. Jiang Cheng nods and stretches his arms, exaggerating a yawn. This draws another amused look out of Lan Xichen, who smiles even when he catches the yawn. “You... think I don't know whaaa... you're doing?" The First Jade sighs, "Well, I suppose it is getting rather late.”“I’ve been up since yesterday. I think it’s time to call it a night.”Lan Xichen nods, standing slowly. “I must thank Jiang Wanyin for the trouble of… of taking care of me this night. I am truly lucky to have such a thoughtful friend.” So maybe Jiang Cheng’s not-so-subtle fussing turned out alright in the end? He grunts a quick, “it’s fine” before standing to follow Lan Xichen out of the inky darkness and back onto the path. Lan Xichen spins around with an odd expression, causing Jiang Cheng to stumble. “What?”“The dormitories are in the opposite direction. You don’t need to walk me back,” he says, though this time he doesn’t sound so offended about it. An undercurrent of something colours his tone. “Go and get some rest. You deserve it.”Jiang Cheng sighs, “Very well.” Then he extends a hand. “Good work today, Sect Leader Lan.”Lan Xichen laughs, shaking his hand, “Good work indeed, Sect Leader Jiang. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” Two purple blurs whizz around the Cloud Recesses, tucking red silk in their arms and draping ribbons around their necks.Clean up is going well—they're ahead of schedule, in fact. Jiang Cheng has been admiring his guards’ impressive efficiency from below, snatching each of the banners they drop them down on him from above. Each one indeed took quite a while to complete, but now it doesn’t feel like time wasted. Especially after what happened earlier this morning.Jiang Cheng thinks back to breakfast, when he was approached by one of the newlyweds—the sterner one: Lan Wangji, his new brother-in-law.They went to a corner and stood there in awkward silence until Jiang Cheng finally decided to be the bigger person and actually put some effort into talking. He’d been watching Jiang Cheng carefully, but as usual, was utterly voiceless. Instead of letting his hunger and frustration get the better pf him, Jiang Cheng tried his best to use the remaining goodwill that came from yesterday to motivate himself and applied himself towards unravelling this enigma of a man. He had to assume that Lan Wangji approached him to ask him something about his brother, because he wouldn’t go through all this trouble for anyone, and Wei Wuxian was attached to him most of the time, so he wouldn't need to ask about him.Assuming that that was what he was here for, Jiang Cheng blurted out something along the lines of: don’t worry about it, I’ll keep an eye on him while you’re away, to which Lan WangJi’s eyes grew so large that Jiang Cheng thought they might fall out of his head. For the first time ever, Jiang Cheng thought he could see something resembling gratitude in those bright golden eyes of his. He mumbled something and then they returned to the dining hall. Jiang Cheng was left wondering whether they’d somehow managed to make some progress in their (almost non-existent) relationship.He couldn't help noticing that the Second Jade had still been wearing his jade comb, which glowed beautifully tucked in his shiny hair. All of these banners they’re gathering right now, Jiang Cheng folds neatly and stacks into piles for Jin Ling to tie up with the ribbons.Lan Xichen comes to see what he’s doing, and his smile actually manages to go up a notch, to the point that Jiang Cheng finds himself having to compensate for his cheerfulness with a corresponding scowl. What the fuck is he so happy about?! The man says nothing to explain his behaviour and wordlessly joins Jin Ling in packing the banners up.When the men of the hour finally arrive, Lan Wangji blinks a lot. He just stands there blinking, eyes flitting between all the stacks of banners, and then back at Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian has his new sword strapped to his hip, and as he swaggers over to Jiang Cheng with his usual aplomb, the bell's red-and-black tassel swings from his belt.Without saying a word (Why is no one talking today? What is up with that?!) he grabs him in a heartfelt, suffocating hug. Jiang Cheng immediately kicks him away. “Jiang Cheng,” he sighs, dodging a few badly aimed punches. “You’re the best, you know that? This has been amazing.”“It wasn’t just my work. Thank Zewu-Jun too,” he replies, narrowing his eyes at Wei Wuxian’s new hairstyle. Everything piled on top in an elegant bun. He’s really vying for this bride status, isn’t he? Shameless.“I’ve been thanking him constantly. These past months it’s been thank you Brother Xichen, and please don't work too hard Brother Xichen, over and over. Isn’t that right, Xichen-ge?”“You are both most welcome,” Lan Xichen laughs, smiling sweetly at his own brother.“So, are you leaving now?” Jiang Cheng asks, prompting everyone to gather around.The Spiders, the juniors, himself, Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, all circle the married couple as they mount their swords. Not much else needs to be said, but Lan Xichen calls out a wish for safe travels, and then up they go—rising into the air, no longer a rippling mass of red, but one dark figure and one white.Lan Wangji hovers for just a moment too long, and in that split second Wei Wuxian shoots off with a manic cackle, a peal of wild laughter catching on the breeze he leaves behind. His husband shakes his head and then hurries afterwards, piercing through the sky as silent as ever, the silver of his blade flashing like a winking star.The sound of his brother’s laughter remains with Jiang Cheng long after they both have disappeared from view. Moderation is key, he’d said, or so it should have been. There is no moderation here, but an outburst of shameless, boundless, fathomless love surging forth all at once. Their joy is as contagious as a yawn, he finds, even as he finds the taste slightly bitter in his mouth. To be left behind like this, always lingering in the aftermath. He really used to hate it. And he still dislikes it, but in a way, seeing all of this—seeing them, Jiang Cheng cannot hold onto his resentment.It’s taken far too long for him to accept that this is where Wei Wuxian belongs. Freely flying wherever the wind takes him, his husband stood forever by his side.The others soon depart—the juniors to their lessons, Nie Huaisang to go pack, and soon it is just Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen. His Spiders wait in the wings, but Jiang Cheng takes his time in handing over a folded piece of paper, dragging it out for as long as he can, just to see Lan Xichen's brow crease in anticipation. “Oh,” he says, face clearing instantly. His delight is almost palpable. “Is this the poem I requested? Already?”“Don’t be stupid,” Jiang Cheng snaps, cheeks flushing a little when he senses both women’s interest pique. He waves a hand at them to give some privacy, but neither of them listen. They never do. “What is it—?”“No, don’t open it yet!” he yelps, grabbing Lan Xichen’s hands before he can peel open the envelope. “Save it for later. It’s just… it’s Lotus Pier’s first official token of passage, okay?” he babbles under his breath, practically dying inside when Minzhen lets out a dainty cough. “Don’t open it yet.”Lan Xichen’s mouth opens a little. Then his face reddens a little too, to Jiang Cheng’s satisfaction. He chuckles a little, but not in a cruel way. Honestly, he looks far too pleased from something so... so stupid, but it’s sort of nice to know he’s got a sense of humour. It hopefully means Jiang Cheng has a chance of keeping him as a friend for at least a little while longer.“Jiang Wanyin is too kind,” he finally declares, tucking it into his sleeve. Eyes sparkling, he bids Jiang Cheng farewell, also wishing him a safe journey.And then they leave.Or they’re about to. Jiang Cheng twists around at the last minute. The Spiders stop walking immediately, but he ignores them—“By the way, you'd better use that!” he shouts, standing safely outside the Cloud Recesses gates, far enough to avoid the penalty of making too much noise. “You hear me? I'd better see you at the festival!”The little white dot of Lan Xichen's figure waves from the distance, which Jiang Cheng takes as of course I’ll see you there! He turns to leave again, stepping onto Sandu and joining his ladies in the air. They stay low to the ground to help guide the rest of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples down the mountain first. As they’re doing this, the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck tingles—but it’s a familiar tingle.He signals to the Spiders to put down their weapons and continue as normal, and turns, and sees him immediately. Wen Ning goes completely still under his stare, like a mouse spotted by a cat. For a dead man unable to express himself, he looks like he’s just about to shit himself. Jiang Cheng doesn’t move either. He doesn’t do anything at all but stare at him for a good few minutes. Then, when Linzhen grunts at him to get a move on, he gives the corpse a passing nod and resumes herding his people back home.He doesn’t see the way Wen Ning raises his head at the acknowledgement, eyes filling with disbelief and hope. The hanshi is truly cold, as befitting its name.
It’ll only get colder from here on. Autumn is just around the corner.
Lan Xichen has been left with a lot to think about, but one thing is for certain: he wants to go to the festival. He wants to paint lotuses in the height of their bloom. Autumn will do if it means that there are lotus pods around. Lan Xichen isn’t particularly fond of eating lotus seeds, but surely they will taste better fresh. He can imagine that they would.After sending Jiang Cheng off, he stayed outside long enough to say goodbye to Nie Huaisang as well, but then retreated back to the hanshi feeling oddly bereft. It’s probably just the usual after-party blues. The bittersweet melancholy of knowing that a joyful occasion has ended, holding onto those memories whilst moving on with life. He feels like he will miss Jiang Cheng. Almost as much as he misses Wangji already. Last night had been tender in a way he would never have thought Jiang Cheng to be capable of. At first, when he realised Jiang Cheng was trying to get him to rest, it had rubbed him the wrong way. Everyone is always asking him to rest, take it easy, and he hates it. He hates being coddled. But then they had such a good time together, laughing and talking, and Jiang Cheng…Jiang Cheng isn’t at all what he’d expected him to be.He's changed a lot, he knows. No longer as spiteful or aggressive. The fact he put so much effort into helping with the wedding only proved how much he has changed and was proof that he and Wei Wuxian were definitely on the mend.But he went above and beyond. Far beyond the measure of what they had agreed. He brought more with him than just decorations and food. The occasion became a celebration, filled with all the things he knew his brother loved—less ceremony, more crazy laughter.When he asked Lan Xichen to send him those texts, he didn't know what he was planning, and then he came with hundreds of painted banners. Lan Xichen saw his brother looking at them later, his finger tracing the ink with absolute reverence. From now until autumn at least (which isn’t more than a couple of weeks away), he and Jiang Cheng will have to continue with their written correspondence. Letters. Poor substitutes for face-to-face conversation.It’s cold in the hanshi, he thinks, and soon it will get even colder.
After stoking the fire, Lan Xichen waits to feel its warmth. It takes time for it to chase away the stiffness in his limbs. Staring at the dancing flames, he thinks about... about lanterns strung over a bustling town, heat from the food stalls' ovens and grills, fireworks shattering overhead in the pitch-black night. He thinks about festivals, and how he suddenly wants to go to one.
Technically it’s ‘later’ now, and so Lan Xichen pulls open the envelope to look at his token. A slip of paper flutters out as he unfolds it. He skims over the document first, wondering to himself, when on earth Jiang Cheng found the time to write it up after last night, and then he picks up the other piece of paper and—oh.
Thank the rain for the flowers.
He reads it again, and again, and then laughs quietly. It's lovely. Short, simple, sweet, but packed with a lot of meaning. What could you say about the wedding? How did it make you feel?He reads it a few more times and then folds it up with the token again. Just as he’s about to put them away in his drawer, Lan Xichen comes across the stack of books he dumped on his desk earlier yesterday. He had no time to put them away properly. Now, he unties the ribbon and—oh. Again, oh. Surprise upon surprise, gift upon gift. Who would have thought a man like Jiang Cheng could be so generous?He'd thought the stack of books felt too heavy before. Tucked between two of them is a small, flat bundle. He pulls apart the cloth without much thought.And then… and then.It’s the inkstone, of course. The carved dragon inkstone. The Lan's family heirloom, with irregular veins of gold running like rivers along the cracks. Careful, you don’t want to drop that. He’s very lucky that he didn't. Lan Xichen doesn’t know what to think or do or feel.With trembling fingers, Lan Xichen traces the broken lines of gold. It’s so beautiful. Even more beautiful than it was before.(Was it that expensive?! He’d asked, looking so panicked. It made Lan Xichen's heart hurt to see guilt flashing in his eyes. Was it a gift?)This is a gift, Lan Xichen finally thinks.This is truly… a gift.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Don't stay where you are needed. Go where you are loved."
— Lang Leav
“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath. “Fuck, ow, ow, ow, fuck, ow, fuck.”“Sir?” Zhizhong calls from the door. “Sir should start getting ready.”“Shut up.” Unfortunately, his chief manager is far too used to him to be cowed by his tone. Swinging the ladle at his placid face, Jiang Cheng growls, “Get ready my ass! There’s nothing to ‘get ready’. Leave me alone.”“Won’t Sect Leader at least consider changing his clothes?”It’s true, his clothes are covered in all sorts of things. He smells delicious, but he looks like he’s been rolling around in the pantry. Who cares what he looks like though? Jiang Cheng turns back to the pot and tries once more to move it further away from the fire. “Fucking fuck.”“Here, sir,” the man says, handing over a towel. Jiang Cheng stirs right to the bottom of the pot, scraping to check if anything has burnt or stuck. The broth is nicely coloured after stewing for hours, little golden bubbles of oil clinging to the surface. It’s a test of willpower to stand in this kitchen and not be tempted to try some. Zhizhong is chopping away at some green onions, this being another subtle reminder for Jiang Cheng to—“What are you still doing here?!”Jiang Cheng drops the ladle. Scalding hot soup splashes all over his arm. He lets out his loudest ‘fuck’ yet, and then spins around to glower at Minzhen, who marches over to grab him by the wrist. He swears all throughout being dragged back to his bedroom, and when both Spiders forcibly strip him down, he starts throwing some punches as well.“Sect Leader is in such a bad mood lately,” Minzhen comments over his head. Thankfully they’ve decided to be merciful and have only thrown him into the tub this time, instead of scrubbing him down as well. That’s only for when they deem it necessary to ‘bring him down to size’. Either that or when they think his skin is ‘looking rough’. “How can you tell?” Linzhen laughs, shaking out a dusty cloak. She rolls her eyes at Jiang Cheng’s huff of displeasure, but then the two decide to leave him to cool off. Jiang Cheng emerges from the room shortly and ties the cloak around his shoulders. Both women clap him on the back, and bid him to ‘have a good time’. They’ve been doing this every year.Ever since the sappiest of festivals decided to take his peaceful Lotus Pier by storm, the servants would coax him away from his desk, drag him away from the kitchens, lock up the training grounds, and basically do everything they could to force him out onto the streets. They think they can break him down with repeated exposure, but Jiang Cheng is nothing if not stubborn.In later years the Spiders even came up with the bright idea of ‘disguising’ him in commoner clothes, thinking it might open his eyes to experience the festival properly with fewer people watching him so closely.“Is Jin Ling here yet?” he asks a passing maid. She shakes her head, a sour look on her face as she carries two full buckets down the corridor. And they say he’s in a bad mood.Of course he’s in a bad mood. Aside from the blatant bullying from his subordinates, the recent letter he received left him feeling oddly disheartened. Kind as ever, apologetic as ever, it still informed him that Lan Xichen wasn’t well enough to come to the festival after all. Which was understandable, but… but then Lan Xichen wrote about his frustrations regarding this.How he wished he could come. How he’d been looking forward to it, ever since they talked at the wedding.It left Jiang Cheng wondering if he shouldn’t have told Lan Xichen about the festival at all.It’s always worse when you know exactly what you’re missing out on, and he’s been writing about all the preparations the locals have been pressuring him to make. By the letter, he’s bemoaned every horrific part of being forced to endure all of this nonsense, describing the progress of his well-ordered streets being made into a cluttered labyrinth of market stalls.To him, it all sounded rather dull, but to Lan Xichen, he'd asked for more. Asking about what types of wares the stalls were selling, and why they can’t organise the stalls to all be in one place, and so on and so on. He was fully invested, that much was clear.But now he isn’t coming.Another letter added to Jiang Cheng’s already abysmal mood, which came from Nie Huaisang last week.He wrote that he was tracking down the List, using his contacts in the Beggars’ Sect to squeeze out information, and using a backwards method to try and find out if there was anybody specifically targeting Lan Xichen. He wrote this and ended it by saying that overall, he’d found nothing—nothing except more people talking about that blasted rumour.The Core-stealer was making their rounds and gaining momentum. Nie Huaisang had warned Jiang Cheng to keep a lookout for them, which only made him even more paranoid than usual. Which meant he was more suspicious than ever. “Sir?” Zhizong calls, in a way that suggests that he’s been trying for a while. “Young Master Jin has arrived,” he clears his throat, “With company.”With company?Jiang Cheng rushes into the front room, where a couple of disciples wordlessly point him eastwards. He breaks into a jog and weaves through the crowded streets to reach the docks. In his haste, he almost trips over a very excited Fairy. Jin Ling hops off the boat he came in and starts tying it up. Behind him are his ever-present shadows.“Sect Leader Jiang,” Sizhui bows formally, smiling brightly afterwards.Behind him, Jingyi helps another boy climb out. Jiang Cheng narrows in on him. “Who is that?” They are not Gusu Lan, but by their robes… ah, he knows what sect they’re from. Well, he knows, but he doesn’t remember their name. “Senior Jiang,” Jingyi says cheerfully, clapping his friend on the back. “This here is Ouyang.” Jiang Cheng looks the boy up and down. “Unless he’s shot up a foot, that person is not Ouyang.”“Ouyang Zizhen,” he says, bowing deeply. Oh. So this is Baling Ouyang’s heir—that one at the cave! Right, he remembers him now.Jiang Cheng grunts, and is about to scold Jin Ling for bringing back uninvited guests, but then hears a familiar cough. He turns to the boat where Sizhui has his head stuck between the curtains. Jiang Cheng strides over and throws them open. For a moment, all he can do is stare. Then he leaps onto the boat, and the first thing he says is:“What the hell is that on your face?”Lan Xichen plucks a strip of black off his upper lip and holds it out for Jiang Cheng to see. It’s hair. In his other hand is another lock of hair. What the fuck. On top of that, Lan Xichen is wearing plain grey robes. He shouldn’t need to ask, but hell, the situation is too absurd. “Explain.”Lan Xichen holds both pieces up to his face: one over his lip, the other under his chin. Somewhere in the background, Jingyi starts laughing.“The boys thought I should come in disguise,” Lan Xichen says. “Well, it was Jingyi’s idea really—”“Disguise? As Lan Qiren? Are you serious?” Jiang Cheng turns to the boys, who are practically suffocating trying not to laugh. “That’s so stupid. Since when has Lan Qiren ever come to Lotus Pier for leisure?” Spinning around again. “Hold on, why do you even need a disguise? Are you not allowed out?”His thoughts are completely scattered, and the boys' muffled laughter really isn’t helping.“Sect Leader Lan, I don’t mean to be rude, but… but what the actual fuck?"“It’s not that I’m not allowed out, but rather we thought it might be safer if people did not see me out and about.”"You said you weren’t feeling well.”“I never feel well anymore,” he says softly. “But I won’t let that stop me.”“So you lied when you said you weren't coming.” Jiang Cheng wants to slap him. He also wants to laugh. Instead, he snatches the fake goatee out of Lan Xichen’s hand and wrinkles his nose. “You call that a disguise?”“It was either that or ink,” Lan Xichen says, smiling—finally smiling. Jiang Cheng relaxes a bit seeing this, but then takes another look at his friend. He looks utterly worn out by the journey like a gentle breeze might knock him over. There’s no way he’s going to the festival like this. Jiang Cheng tells him so in his best, sternest voice. His stomach clenches when Lan Xichen’s eyes dim, his mouth opening to protest.“You need to rest,” he interrupts, calling upon all his experience dealing with a whiny, sleepy Jin Ling who refused to sleep. “You literally look like death warmed over.”“Jiang Wanyin, please don’t presume to know what I need. I am not so weak as to require that sort of treatment.” With that, Lan Xichen goes to climb out of the boat. His movements are notably less graceful, but he manages by himself. Jiang Cheng hops out as well and only then notices that the boys have run off whilst they were talking.“Oi!” he bellows, cupping hands to his mouth, “Jin Ling, remember to eat something before you go!” Thankfully his nephew doesn’t need much coaxing to eat these days, especially if it’s this special meal. He flaps a hand over his shoulder and disappears into the crowds. “You know, as far as disguises go, I don’t think yours is that much better.”Of course he told Lan Xichen all about his servants harassing him each year, including the whole ‘commoner’s disguise’ ploy.The robes he’s wearing are simple black ones with a grey cloak. With his hair tied the same, only without the crown and braids, he doesn’t look much different. In truth, most times he has been spotted by someone. Often it is a child. It’s become such a thing that it’s even been made into a sort of unspoken game. ‘Spot the Sect Leader!’, a free-for-all source of entertainment!Jiang Cheng sneers, deliberately giving Lan Xichen a scathing once-over.His pale grey robes and cloak are barely one step away from Gusu Lan. He still has his forehead ribbon on, for god’s sake, except that it’s been tied into his hair, which falls in one long braid. Lan Xichen laughs, which immediately draws a few people’s eyes over. How could he ever think that he’d get away with such a flimsy disguise? Jiang Cheng shakes his head.“Look,” he says, “You’re tired. I can see that you’re tired. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, just a simple fact. Do you really think you’re up to walking through crowds of people? Do you honestly think you’ll be able to handle it?”Again, the man’s face darkens. Jiang Cheng tries to keep his expression neutral, but it’s hard seeing someone like Lan Xichen so crestfallen. “But I—I had hoped…” he says, brows pinching together. Then he takes in a deep breath and nods. “No, you’re right. Thinking about it now, I have to agree that it is indeed impossible.”If Jiang Cheng didn’t know any better, he’d have said that Lan Xichen chose that word on purpose, because it ignites something in him.“It’s not impossible,” he blurts, “We just need to… okay, be quiet for a minute. Let me think.” There has to be a way. Jiang Cheng drums his fingers on his ribs, staring at the water. He doesn’t see the flash of surprise in Lan Xichen’s expression, nor the way his fists slowly uncurl.“A better disguise might be a different name. If you were to call me by something else…”“Why would I need to call you by anything? You’re standing right here.”“You should call me Huan,” he says, grinning at Jiang Cheng’s shocked expression. “Not my family name though. That would give it away. Call me Huan-xiong.”“You wish!” Jiang Cheng sneers. At least he didn’t say ‘call me Huan-gege’. “You’re ridiculous. How is anything supposed to disguise you? You smile and everyone looks, you laugh and everyone listens. Who can see your face and not know who you are? Just keep your head down and stop being so obvious!!” To emphasise this point, Jiang Cheng yanks the hood down to cover Lan Xichen’s head. “Maybe I should call you something else too?” he muses, apparently undeterred.What else is there left but to call him by his birth-name? Jiang Cheng turns red at this implication. “Only if you want to be thrown out!” Lan Xichen lazily wafts a piece of paper under his nose. Lotus Pier’s first official token of passage.“I knew I’d regret giving you that,” he grumbles. Then he considers the boat again and nods to himself. There’s an idea. “Alright, get in.”“Huh?”“The boat,” Jiang Cheng says, jumping back in. “We’ll go by the back-route passages to avoid coming across too many people. It will take us straight to the main house. There are a few stalls around the streets there. You can have a little browse and then go rest. Sound good?”“I don’t know who you’re talking to, but that does sound lovely.”Jiang Cheng stares at him and then stares some more. Is this guy for real? How thick is his face? Jiang Cheng feels like his face is burning. He wants to either claw it off or stab something! Lan Xichen doesn’t look fazed at all though, playing idly with the end of his braid.“H…Huan-xiong.” As if by magic, Lan Xichen spins around. “Yes, young master?”“Get in the fucking boat.”He shoos the oarsman away with a handful of coins. Then they begin the journey which will take them around the pier, all the way around the harbour, thereby avoiding the main thoroughfare. Jiang Cheng knows every inch of his home inside and out, and could probably navigate the waters blindfolded. Lan Xichen pulls back all of the curtains and leans out to gaze at the lake, obviously extremely satisfied with this turn of events.“Do me a favour, Huan-xiong,” he says, paddling them past another boat. “Never try out for spy-work. You really suck at being inconspicuous.”“Sect Leader!” a man in that other boat shouts. “Sect Leader Jiang!”Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, narrowing his eyes when Lan Xichen’s shoulders start shaking. He tells himself that it’s because he is scared by Yunmeng’s harsh accent, just like Wei Wuxian speculated all those years ago, and not because he’s laughing at him.The boat comes alongside theirs. “Sect Leader, today we picked some lovely fresh melons—”“Put them on the boat. You’ll be paid tomorrow. Leave.”A sack of melons becomes the second passenger. Lan Xichen counts them all and then goes back to admiring the view. “You were right,” he says, sighing happily. “Even now the lotuses are blooming. How beautiful.”Jiang Cheng tries very hard not to preen, but every time someone compliments Lotus Pier, he can’t help but feel proud. It’s better than when people try to compliment him. That’s a sure-fire way to get yourself punched. Jiang Cheng cannot stand when simpering idiots try to curry his favour with insincere flattery. He uses the oar to pull a couple of lotus stems closer, snaps off the pods and tosses them over his shoulder.“I don’t know how to peel this.”“…”He ends up stopping the boat just to show Lan Xichen how to crack open the pods and dig out the seeds. Soon he is happily munching away, occasionally passing Jiang Cheng a handful of seeds to eat. After not receiving any for a while, Jiang Cheng turns around. Lan Xichen’s hand is cupped around a flower stem, but the moment he notices Jiang Cheng looking, he lets it go.“Take it.”“Really? You don’t mind?”Jiang Cheng turns back to rowing. “Better pick some before they close up.”“Oh, are these the sort of flowers that close up at night?”(In fact, their lotuses bloom at night as well as during the day, but Jiang Cheng just wants him to stop fretting and pick a damn flower already.)Something buzzes past his ear then. He swats. Another buzzes past. Jiang Cheng wedges the oar under his arm and swats madly for a few seconds. “Fucking hell,” where are they all coming from?!Lan Xichen walks over. “You don’t like dragonflies?”“Not if the little bastards come near my face!”There are a lot of them hovering over the water, zipping across from flower to flower. Jiang Cheng squints, trying to track the movement of one, but then it gets lost in the swarm. He continues rowing, pulling them away from the host of dragonflies. As they pass another boat, Lan Xichen waves at the passengers and the women stop working immediately. “Stop being distracting,” Jiang Cheng scolds, even as Lan Xichen continues waving. “Are you a child?!”The women spot Jiang Cheng and bow lowly, causing him to facepalm audibly. Lan Xichen twists around to give him a look, so he misses seeing the women giving him strange looks. Everyone keeps looking at each other until Jiang Cheng finally pushes them onwards.The women are putting silk lanterns into the water, which have been cut, sewn and painted to look like lotus flowers. The candles set inside give them a heavenly glow. “Aren’t you a bit early, doing that?” he yells. It’s only afternoon, the sun sitting comfortably in the sky. The women startle, but gesture around helplessly. They’re not wrong. There’s a lot of lake to cover. Lan Xichen gives them a final wave as they drift past out of view. Shameless!For a while it continues like this: a few lotus seeds filling his hand every now and again, the bottom of the boat filling with hulled pods and stems. Lan Xichen hasn’t chosen a flower to pick yet, apparently looking for the perfect one. It’s nostalgic paddling around in a boat picking lotus pods. It’s sweet like lotus seeds, this taste of childhood.When they finally reach the family residence, Lan Xichen lets out a heartfelt “wow.”The ladies were right to hurry because either time has passed more quickly than he realised, or the sun was tired and decided to retire early. The sky shifts from a clear blue at the edges to a vivid orange, with buttery clouds mirrored in the gleaming lake. The lotuses are like little stars, their petals flame-like in the dying sun. The view is indeed, very wow. Jiang Cheng moors the boat and hauls the sack of melons onto his shoulder. He nearly topples over at the weight, but then Lan Xichen places a hand on the back. A single hand. Does it make sense that he is both ill and able to do such a thing?! The only way this can be possible is if the Lans’ arm strength doesn’t require any spiritual energy, but the thought of that truly boggles the mind!Jiang Cheng huffs, hefting the sack a little higher before heading towards the street.“Let’s head back,” Lan Xichen says, stuffing the empty lotus pods into a pouch. He reaches back to retrieve his lotus flower and twirls it a few times. “Why?”“Otherwise we’ll be carrying too much to go around the market.”Jiang Cheng scowls. “You wanted to see the market, let’s go see the market. It’s in the same direction we’re going,” he says. “And who’s the one carrying this anyway? Who is this ‘we’ you speak of?”The streets lead up all the way to the gate, as do the stalls which are already starting to get rowdier. Jiang Cheng sighs when a little girl gasps, maybe at recognising him or seeing the sack of melons. (Or maybe at seeing Lan Xichen. It could definitely be that.)“Come, let me show you how horrible everything is,” he says, which draws a laugh out of the First Jade. Finally, he can have someone to complain to who can bear it all with good humour. Not like his Spiders, who click their tongues, or his servants, who shake their heads. “See that?” he points at a trio of stalls, where so many people are clustered that they resemble an anthill. “It's a nuisance.”Lan Xichen nods solemnly. “And dangerous.”“And that,” he says, pointing at the other side of the street, where an ox has been placed in a pen. Some children have already draped flower wreaths over the poor beast’s head. “The noise, La—Huan-xiong. The smell.” “Dreadful,” he agrees whilst feeding the ox a couple of lotus stems.It goes on like this for a while.They pass the gates and head to the other end of the street, Jiang Cheng pointing out everything he hates. The various sellers are very used to Jiang Cheng sneering and grumbling by now and hand him his usual wares (or tell him they’ll be sent to his home, once they see how much he’s already carrying). None of them cares about his disparaging remarks, but when they see Lan Xichen, they either become confused or extremely flustered.“Do you see this?” Jiang Cheng demands, pointing out a young maiden’s needlework. Silk handkerchiefs decorated with magpies and various flowers. The poor girl trembles, hearing the Sect Leader speaking about her work. He picks one up, strokes the coloured thread, murmurs something, and then folds it back up and walks away.“Oh yes, it’s awful,” Lan Xichen says, waiting for Jiang Cheng to move on. “Awfully good,” he whispers to the girl, giving her a few coins and a quick smile.It’s only when Jiang Cheng is a third of the way down the street that he realises the replies to his goading have lost their edge, and the footsteps behind him are lagging behind. He thinks nothing of it at first, continuing to criticise this-that-and-the-other, but when he reaches the halfway point, he suddenly realises he’s walking alone. He spins around, hand automatically on Sandu.Lan Xichen isn’t too far behind, but the way he’s standing has Jiang Cheng’s blood running cold. He runs over, eyes flying everywhere and mind awhirl. When he reaches him and sees that he’s unharmed, he lets out a sigh. “You could’ve said if you were getting bored,” he chides, huffing a little. “Or if there was something you wanted to look at, why didn’t you say so? What were you doing, huh? Standing in the middle of the street—”“Jiang Cheng.”Lan Xichen is standing stiffly, his whole body as rigid as a board. Jiang Cheng looks him over again, but aside from his greyed complexion, can find nothing wrong with him. “What is it? Are you hurt?” Lan Xichen shakes his head, but the motion makes his jaw clench. He’s clearly in pain.He dumps the sack and grabs Lan Xichen by the shoulders. The man immediately sways forwards, looking moments away from collapsing. Jiang Cheng staggers under his weight. “La—Huan-xiong? Hey, talk to me! What’s wrong?”“Can we head back now?” Lan Xichen asks in a small, strained voice.Oh. He’s just tired.Again, Jiang Cheng internally sighs with relief. He is about to jokingly ask ‘who exactly has been carrying this sack of melons all this time?’ and ‘who has been rowing the boat all afternoon?’, but then he notices that Lan Xichen’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, and he’s avoiding Jiang Cheng’s gaze. He’s not just exhausted, he’s clearly embarrassed about it too.How did he not notice this? Has he accidentally pushed him too far?“Sure.” Swinging Lan Xichen’s arm over his shoulder, “We’ve seen everything anyway. Let’s go.”As they leave, a woman calls out: “Young master, your melons!”“Keep them!” he yells, practically dragging Lan Xichen back to the house. Upon seeing them, the disciples hurry to open doors and help them into a sitting room. Jiang Cheng has barely got Lan Xichen to lie down when the doors fly open, and maids come in carrying towels, a bowl of warm water and snacks. He soaks a towel and slaps it onto Lan Xichen’s face.“If you were getting tired you should’ve said something.” It’s not surprising to him how anger joins his other muddled emotions. “What happened?”The man doesn’t even remove the towel, mumbling, “I don’t know,” through it. He’s somehow got the lotus flower in his hand, and twiddles it whilst Jiang Cheng steadily grows angrier and angrier.“You don’t know? How can you not know?”The towel is ripped off and tossed aside, but Lan Xichen doesn’t open his eyes. This childish behaviour is getting on his last nerve. Before he can start laying into him, however, he says, “I didn’t even realise. I was having such a good time, and then,” spreading his hands, “Gone. My energy. Just like that.”Spiritual energy or regular energy? Jiang Cheng immediately scans him and even grabs his wrist, checking his pulse. Lan Xichen doesn’t shrug him off, seeming very used to this treatment. When he opens his eyes, he stares at the ceiling blankly. “I’m sorry.”“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” The door bursts open again, this time with Jin Ling striding in. He stops when he sees the two of them, his grin sliding right off his face. Jiang Cheng knows what he’s come for. He shakes his head. “I’m not going.”Jin Ling hovers at the door but then comes closer. “Uncle, the aunties said you have to.”Jiang Cheng soaks and wrings out another towel. Lan Xichen has closed his eyes again. The anger becomes ice in his stomach. “Can you not see the situation?”“But I don’t understand,” Jin Ling says, shifting from leg to leg. “Zewu-Jun was fine earlier.”“Either shut up or go away.”After a moment, Jin Ling leaves, and for a while, it’s just them.There’s not much to do after wiping his face. Lan Xichen isn’t running a fever, his pulse was only slightly fast, his spiritual pathways are diminished but functioning. It’s just exhaustion. Jiang Cheng knows mentally and emotionally what that feels like, but it’s been years since he felt it in his body. Cultivation preserves the flesh and shields the mind, but without it—“I was having so much fun.” There’s an edge of self-loathing there that Jiang Cheng recognises all too well, but has rarely ever revealed to or heard from others. He doesn’t know what to say. Nothing seems fitting. “Does this happen often?”Sigh. “More and more, it seems.”Even with cultivation, sometimes life is just too much. Jiang Cheng remembers losing bits of his control, how it chipped away the more he forgot who he was beyond grief. This is not the same, but it’s not completely different either. “I told you before,” he mutters, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just know your limits.”“Young master?” The door opens again, this time an old, bent woman shuffling into the room carrying a tray. “Young master, I brought snacks.”Jiang Cheng smacks his forehead, sighing loudly. “Thank you, Granny. Pass it here.”She hasn’t brought snacks, she’s brought a whole feast. Mostly desserts, but several steamed and fried dishes too, the steamed ones cooked in lotus leaf wrappings. The smell manages to rouse Lan Xichen’s interest, and he raises his head to look.The old woman gasps when she sees him, her face becoming a mass of wrinkles when she smiles. “Oh, aren’t you handsome! Is this one the friend we’ve been hearing about?”Jin Ling meekly tiptoes in behind her, carrying a pot of tea. Jiang Cheng sighs. “Lan Xichen, this woman is senile, nosy, and annoying, but ultimately she’s harmless.”Lan Xichen continues smiling, though with a trace of ‘why are you telling me this’ stiffening his features. This is moments before the old granny starts pinching his cheek. “A-Ling, I’m not going,” Jiang Cheng repeats. Jin Ling sets down the cups and pours the tea. He peeks at Jiang Cheng a couple of times but says nothing. It’s with a pang of guilt that he considers the slight possibility that Jin Ling may have wanted him to join him, which… he cannot understand. It’s been years since he last hugged his jiujiu’s leg, or insisted on dragging him around by his sleeve. He has his own money now and all his friends with him.Why would he want his uncle tagging along?“You should go.” Jiang Cheng nearly jumps out of his skin. Lan Xichen squeezes his arm, eyes drooping as he fights to stay awake. “You can always tell me about it later.”“But—”“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be resting,” he says, politely ignoring Granny’s cooing. “I'll be having a nice, long nap whilst you’re outside enjoying the market.”Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes, though a bubble of laughter rises up his throat. “Oh, I see how it is. You bring these young masters with you, with their bad poetry, and their… and their hormones, and then you leave me to deal with them? Is that how it is?!”“Precisely,” Lan Xichen says without a hint of shame, patting his arm in consolation. “You’ll be fine. Jingyi writes pretty good poetry actually.”“So you’re coming?” Jin Ling blurts out, leaping to his feet.He nods reluctantly, causing the boy to bob once on his toes and then dash out of the room, probably to go get the others. “If I don’t survive this, that’s on you,” Jiang Cheng warns, to which Lan Xichen merely shrugs. When he stands his hand slips off. Jiang Cheng catches his wrist, lowering it to his chest. “If you need anything, ask someone. That’s what they’re there for.”“We’ll take good care of him, young master,” Granny promises.Jiang Cheng purses his lips. “Linzhen and Minzhen will be here if you need them.”He goes to the door and then looks over his shoulder. Granny is sorting through the snacks and babbling something to Lan Xichen, who looks as though he’s sleeping but is probably replying to her. Jiang Cheng shakes his head in bemusement and leaves.
“This one was happy to learn that Sect Leader made a friend, you know? That boy isn't very sociable, but he’s a good person.” Lan Xichen blinks at the tiny old woman in front of him, a smile growing on his face. “Is that so?” She hums, nodding happily and spooning more food onto his plate. He can’t help but balk at the mountain of food. Though it smells wonderful, he has no appetite to eat any of it. Just then, the door opens and a younger woman walks in. Her face is littered with scars, but they are old and don’t seem to bother her.When she sees him, she gasps, “Granny, no! That’s not what you feed a sick person!”Lan Xichen doesn’t know if he counts as sick, but he’s grateful for the intervention nevertheless. The old woman’s brow creases, and she looks at the plate she’s served. “He’s sick? He doesn’t look sick.”“This one apologises,” he says, sitting up to bow properly. “This one should have spoken before the food was served.”“Oh, don’t worry about it. Come to the kitchens. We’ll get you warmed up by the fire and find you something better to eat,” the woman says, bending down to help him up. He’d like to say that it’s already warm for him, simply being in Yunmeng, but she seems very determined. As they walk, she says, “You can call me Sisi.”He thinks for a moment, and then says, “You can call me—”“Every time! Every time he does this!” a maid up screeches up ahead, dragging two heavy buckets of water. When she spots them, she exchanges a weary look with Sisi but then blushes at the sight of Lan Xichen. “Apologies, young master! This one didn’t mean to be noisy.”“Are the kitchens not clean yet?” Sisi asks. “Haven’t you guys been cleaning for hours now?”Her face immediately darkens. “Sister, you should try cleaning all that up in mere hours. That man may know his way around a kitchen, but he sure doesn’t know one end of a mop from the other!”“Ah well, what do rich young masters know about cleaning up? Forgive us for the mess, Young Master Lan,” Sisi says, leading him into the kitchens. “Master is neat and tidy everywhere but the kitchen, it seems. It’s a terrible habit. The Spiders will definitely beat an apology out of him later.”Lan Xichen pauses. “You know who I am?”“You’re the spitting image of your brother.” When did she meet his brother? Lan Xichen opens his mouth to ask, but then gets distracted by the… by everything around him. They weren’t exaggerating when they said it was messy. Every surface is cluttered with utensils or vegetable peelings. Sisi goes over to lift a pot lid and a deep, aromatic smell seeps out. “Ah good, there’s some left. Young Master Jin usually finishes the whole pot by himself.”She ladles out a bowl and brings it over to him. The soup has meat and some sort of vegetable in it. Lan Xichen inhales the fragrant steam and dips a spoon in the broth. The flavour is wonderfully rich and slightly sweet. “Delicious,” he declares.“Nutritious,” Sisi rejoins. “Better for you than all those snacks.”He nods, surprised by how hungry he actually is. His appetite isn’t the best, but the bowl gets eaten up fast.“Ahhh, this one reminds me of young master, except this one eats the meat last,” the old woman says fondly, appearing out of nowhere. Lan Xichen almost drops his spoon. How did she sneak in so quietly?! She clicks her tongue. “That boy always eats meat first. Meat, meat, meat. Try getting a vegetable in him and he only wants lotus roots.”“Pardon me, but did you know Jia—Sect leader Jiang when he was a boy?”But he thought… from that time when he overheard the Yunmeng brothers talking, he thought Jiang Cheng said that these weren’t the people he grew up with. How could she know him as a boy then? Or was she just senile, and thought that she did?(Or was Jiang Cheng just an unreliable source? Because all of these people he’d met just now, despite chiding him for leaving a mess and such, spoke with a certain fondness about him. Did he only assume they didn’t like him based on outside rumours? Did he not think that his people might just be taking after him—scolding, criticising and griping, but ultimately being quite fond of their master?)“Oh yes,” Granny gushes warmly. “Young master used to come up to our rice-paddies every summer! His mother was very strict about her children having to do some hard labour to learn discipline. He was good at working the fields but always complained about the water. Fussy boy! Always saying they were no good for swimming. Of course they weren’t, they’re for growing rice, I said!"Ah, but he did miss his Lotus Pier a lot, though I suspect it was more him missing his dad than anything.”Sisi puts another bowl in front of him. More vegetable than meat this time, and a lot of broth. Are these lotus roots then? They’re soft and starchy like potatoes.“So he was a good worker?” Lan Xichen asks, smiling a little at the thought of a small, serious Jiang Cheng digging in the mud. (If what the woman is saying is true, then some of these older Yunmeng Jiang members will have known him before they moved here then. Did Jiang Cheng not realise that, or did he think they wouldn’t remember him? If this old woman could remember him in her old age, why would he think that no one else would?)“Oh he was, he was! He worked even harder when his mother was there, wanting to make her proud,” Granny says eagerly but then frowns a little. “There’s only one time I remember when he misbehaved. That time he arrived, he was like a little storm-cloud!"None of us were prepared, even knowing how he could be. It was just him and his sister who came that time, which told us something was very wrong. Yu-furen was dedicated about coming to oversee their work herself, you see. You know what the young master did? He ran off as soon as he arrived, just like that! He threw such a big tantrum that his sister was in tears! As soon as he ran off, the whole village was in an uproar."Young master, where are you? Young master, come back! we yelled and yelled. Young mistress wouldn’t stop crying, and it was mayhem until he was brought back. After that, everything settled down.” She shakes her head, fanning her face. “Oh, but he gave us a terrible fright, that one! When he came back, he told us that he’d gone out looking for fairies!”“Fairies?” Sisi asks, giggling behind her hand.The other maid has also stopped scowling, probably eager to hear this childhood story about her master.“It was my fault,” Granny admits without shame. “But how was I to know that my stories about fairies would stick in his brain? For the rest of that summer, he kept running around looking for them! Whatever had upset him, he forgot all about it! Kept trying to go up the mountain again, but we knew to keep a better eye on him after that.”Mountain? Fairies?Lan Xichen’s heart thuds suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. An image floats to the surface. A dark hollow space. A small hand clutched in his. Flowers. What is this?Sisi, “How old was Sect Leader during this?”“Young, very young. Maybe… oh, maybe six or seven?”“Seven,” he blurts out. “He was seven.”Seven years old. That would have made himself eleven back then. That time that he tried to help a lost child and was almost kidnapped was the incident that had preceded this one, but both had been around the same time. After being scolded for the first one—oh, he remembers now… after hearing about the Jiang heir being lost, he’d ignored all his uncle’s scoldings and dropped everything to help find him.But what had he been doing in that part of Yunmeng to have been there at that time? ~~~
Twenty-seven years ago:
Uncle was going to lock him up forever after this.After promising to never be so reckless again, look what he was doing—running up a mountain! Could he have stopped himself though, after what he just heard? The Young Master is lost! Young Master Jiang, where are you! A-Cheng, please come back! The cries were heard from the next town over where he was staying.It was his first time representing his sect on tour, and under strict orders from Uncle, his guards had found a smaller, quieter (safer) town to stay at this time, to reduce the chances of another attempted kidnapping. The sounds of so many panicked people were difficult to ignore, but when he heard that name: Young Master Jiang. Wasn’t that that boy he’d met before? The son of Jiang Fengmian?Oh, please don’t be kidnapped! Please don’t be taken! they begged, and when he heard the word ‘kidnapped’, well… he couldn’t sit back after that!After his own recent attempted kidnapping, thinking of that little boy being taken—Lan Huan wouldn’t stand for it! He slipped away and followed two of the villagers back to the rice fields. After hearing them talk about what places had been searched, Lan Huan looked around and thought to himself: what places are left? Where would an angry little young master go? Everyone was focusing on the surrounding towns, but what about the wilderness around them? The forests, the mountains?When he wanted peace, he’d go find a remote to hide. Mountains were the best place for hiding.It was worth a shot.He ran at first, but then slowed down and took out his xiao. Though he wasn’t very skilled yet, he had a plan—play some music, listen to how it reverberated. If there was a change in the echo, that would mean there must be a change in his surroundings. It was how he and Lan Zhan used to play hide and seek, by singing or whistling to find the hidden caves or crevices in the rocky mountains where the other was hiding.With that in mind, Lan Huan played a mindless tune, walking up and down the mountain paths. After a while, he left the path and went deeper into the forest. It echoed! But more than that—Lan Huan’s sensitive ears managed to pick out the sound of someone sniffling. He climbed up the side of the rock face, letting the sound guide him towards the entrance. It was pretty well concealed, hidden under an outcrop of rock. Inside, he found a space bigger than he was expecting, but not as large as a proper cave[1].At the centre, there was even a pool! Light spilt in from above, through a small opening in the ceiling. It lit up craggy edges of pale yellow rock, but where the light beam landed on was a smooth, carved figure. A statue of some sort… it was a mountain shrine! There was no altar, no praying mats, no incense sticks to burn. In such a remote place, there was just the goddess statue itself to worship on bare rock.At her feet stood a small, purple figure. Lan Huan's heart leapt to his throat.It had been almost five years since he last saw this boy.When he walked through a puddle, Jiang Cheng jumped around with a fierce scowl on his face. He was reminded of a startled cat, and the thought made him chuckle.At the same time, another figure at the other end shifted too—was that the kidnapper?! Lan Huan reached for his sword, but then… he’d never used it to fight anyone properly yet, so he really hoped he wouldn’t need to use it. The man quietly went back to his praying. Just a travelling pilgrim then (he hoped)?Jiang Cheng was wiping his face, eyes reddened and lips quivering. That made him pause and wonder… what type of luck did he have, that every time he’s met this boy so far, he was always crying?! The redness made his eyes appear very blue though, and they seemed to pierce through him as he stared. Then he croaked out weakly, “Are you a fairy?”Lan Huan was baffled. “Pardon?” Why would he think that? Did he not recognise him? But then again, it had been almost five years, and Jiang Cheng was only a toddler back then… maybe he forgot?Lan Huan would not have recognised him were it not for his eyes and scowl being exactly the same. Lan Huan then realised how different he might look too, what with him wearing the proper Gusu Lan robes now. Their clothing was known to give a person a certain sort of… presence. Standing in the sunlight, the white cloth emitted a radiant glow. Maybe it was because of that?“The grannies told me there are fairies in the mountains that guard the Lady Guanyin,” he explained. Jiang Cheng squinted and declared, “You must be a fairy then.”He sounded so sure of himself that Lan Huan didn’t have the heart to correct him. It seemed that he really didn’t remember him. There was not a trace of recognition in his face. It seemed he would have to play along for now, because Jiang Cheng seemed rather serious about him being a fairy. Cooperating with him might make it easier to bring him back.“You’re right. I am a… a fairy,” he agreed, stepping closer. “But I’m not guarding Lady Guanyin at the moment. Right now I’m looking for a little boy who is lost. Would you happen to have seen him?”Jiang Cheng’s cheeks puffed out. “No!” he said before turning back to the statue. Lan Huan was about to ask more, but then suddenly—pak! Jiang Cheng kicked the statue!! Not only that, but he also started punching and shouting, “Stupid Goddess! I hate you, I hate you!”Lan Huan hurried to pull the other boy away. “You mustn’t do that!” It was lucky for them that the man on the other side hadn’t intervened!“You said you weren’t guarding her,” Jiang Cheng argued, his voice rising. “Let me go! It’s all her fault! Who hears the cries of the world, huh? You don’t hear shit, Lady! I pray to you every day, so why is everyone suffering?!”He was completely shocked (the mouth on this kid!), but kept Jiang Cheng tightly held in his arms. If he kept hitting the rock he might break something—he really wasn’t holding back on his punches! “Who is suffering?”“A-Niang!” Jiang Cheng raged. “A-Die! Both of them, they—they…” And that was when he broke into tears, sagging against him. “They want to get divorced, but I don’t want that. B-But… th-they’re so miserable together, and I don’t want that either! A-Die says he won’t leave because of us—me and my sister, b-but—but…!”“Shh,” he rocked him side to side, hoping to comfort him even a little. He rubbed his back, humming softly. By then he’d become rather good at this, to the point that Jiang Cheng wilted quickly in his arms. Lan Huan hugged him tightly, closing his eyes. He’d missed being able to do this for someone.“That’s why they sent us away,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, squirming around to hide his face against his chest. “They don’t want us to hear them fighting, but what does it matter if we know they’re still fighting? Us being apart… it’s not fair. I just want all of us to stay together.”“I know, I know,” in truth, he didn’t know. He had no idea what Jiang Cheng was talking about but knew the ache of wanting his family to be united.“Aren’t people supposed to like each other if they marry? A-Niang said it’s the most important reason.”Lan Huan thought about it for a minute. “Yes, they’re supposed to,” he finally said. Then he turned Jiang Cheng around to face the Guanyin statue. “But my friend, you shouldn’t shout at the Lady Goddess though. That isn’t right at all.”“How is it right that she’s the goddess of mercy but she doesn’t answer my prayers?!” he demanded, stomping his foot. “I only ask for them to stop fighting! Is that too much to ask?”A marital dispute, a domestic affair—they weren’t the end of the world to adults, or even to those a few years older than Jiang Cheng (such as himself).A handful of years seemed to make all the difference between him and Jiang Cheng. For Jiang Cheng, at his age, the world hadn’t yet expanded beyond his family and his home. Seeing how desperately he wanted his family to be together (enough to kick a goddess!), Lan Huan couldn’t help but feel old, even if it wasn’t long ago that he was the same.“She will hear you if you make a wish here in her temple, so long as it comes from your heart. Compassion is the essence of her being, so she responds to that in turn. If you want to make a wish, you must do it properly,” he said, instructing Jiang Cheng to a bow three times. “Like that, good.”Jiang Cheng’s brows pinched together, but he squared his shoulders: “I want my family to be happy!”“Good! That’s good.” After a moment, he asked, “Is that all? What about you? Don’t you want anything?”Jiang Cheng looked confused. “But that’s what I want. If they’re happy, I’ll be happy.”“Nothing for yourself though?”He was a bit surprised. Most children, when taught how to pray, tended to go straight for asking for toys, sweets and those sorts of things. They didn’t usually understand that each god or goddess couldn’t grant everything under the sun, and so they’d pour out their every desire, not caring what the limitations were. Could it be that Jiang Cheng was spoiled enough not to want anything?“Surely you want something too?”(So help him, Lan Huan was curious. Had the little boy he met before changed a lot in these past years? Did he still like painting? What were his interests these days? He wanted to know!)“I… I want A-Jie to always cook me soup.”“Ah… is it good soup?”Jiang Cheng looked offended. “It’s the best! No one can make soup like she can!” There was a thoughtful pause, and then he added, “I also would like more dogs.”“More dogs?”“Mm-hm, I have two dogs. Two is good, but three is better,” Jiang Cheng said wisely. He sounded so serious that Lan Huan couldn’t help laughing. “I also want… to be important to someone someday,” Jiang Cheng said so quietly, Lan Huan wondered if it was meant to be heard at all. “That’s everything.”“You’re important to your parents though,” he argued, “And to your sister.” Jiang Cheng hummed but said nothing. He didn’t seem convinced, and so Lan Huan held him a little bit longer, and thankfully Jiang Cheng let him. “Can you tell me why you think that?”Jiang Cheng frowned. “No one ever tells me anything.”“Isn’t that just because you’re the youngest?”He looked a little shocked that Lan Huan knew, but replied, “No, it’s not that.”How can you know that? You’re only a child, he wanted to say. They’re probably just trying to protect you. Before he could do anything, Jiang Cheng wrapped his arms around him. It was clear what he needed (and wanted) was comfort, not an argument, so Lan Huan hugged him back.Soon enough the light started fading, and Lan Huan knew: it was time to take him back. “I need to find that little boy,” he explained, pulling back enough to see Jiang Cheng’s cheeks redden. They both knew, which made it a bit funny and a bit sad. “If you’re not too busy, will you help me find him?”They ended up going together, scrambling out of the rocky enclosure and chasing each other down the side of the mountain.By the time they reached the rice paddies, Jiang Cheng had collected two handfuls of wildflowers (“for A-Jie, to say sorry!”), and was covered head-to-toe in mud and twigs. Lan Huan’s clothes were pristine, but both of them were red-faced and sweaty from laughing. With his heart as light as a bird, Lan Huan imagined that someday, this was what it might feel like to fly. A purple figure stood in the field, wringing her hands and rubbing her eyes. When she saw them, she shrieked and burst into a new wave of relieved sobbing. Lan Huan watched his little friend run into his sister’s arms. It… it was time for the fairy to disappear now, his mission complete. Before Jiang Cheng could turn around, he ducked back into the bushes. The little boy gasped, spinning around.Then Lan Huan ran back to the mountain without looking back, his heart and soul heavy with regret. He wanted just one last taste of freedom.After being paraded around like a flag, after being scolded by his Uncle, after so many people came to see ‘the honourable heir to Gusu Lan’... he wanted to return to a place where he could be Lan Huan. To be a fairy, to be a child, to be nothing more than a comforting presence to someone—one last time, to keep for himself.I also want to be important to someone someday. Lan Huan crawled into the mountain and fell at Guanyin’s knees. The pilgrim had moved around to the front of the statue. Lan Huan felt nervous all of a sudden, not having thought he’d still be there. He’d wanted to pray aloud as Jiang Cheng had done, but now he would feel childish doing so.(But wasn’t he a child? Wasn’t that what he came there to be?)“Was that boy alright?” (Lan Huan jumped. The pilgrim was speaking to him!) “He seemed upset.”“Oh yes, he’s… he’s back with his family now,” he replied. He must have been one of the ones looking for Jiang Cheng. Feeling less wary of him now, he clapped his hands together.“Goddess, I want… I want all of his wishes to come true, and for him to live a good life.” After a moment, “I want him to remember me next time so that we can be friends. Oh!” he gasped suddenly, “I also want Wangji—I want him to find peace in his heart, and… and to get better. And to be happy again.”It’s only been a year they keep saying, but isn’t a year long enough? How long does it take to get over a person? It’s not like he hasn’t been praying daily at their family shrine, but like with Jiang Cheng, he’d received no answer. He and Wangji have mourned the deaths of all their little animal friends, but Mother is… Mother was different, of course. “Nothing for yourself?” the pilgrim asked, startling him again. “I… their happiness will make me happy,” he said, clutching at his sleeves. “That’s all I want. That’s everything.”The pilgrim grunted, sounding impressed. “That’s the spirit.” ~~~ “Ah, you’re right!” the old woman snaps her fingers. “He was seven! And what a precious boy he was too at that age, but oooh so stubborn!”Lan Xichen hums, nodding at this.He doesn’t notice all the looks he’s receiving, too overwhelmed by the past to care about his present. Who would have thought that he’d seen Jiang Cheng not once, but twice during their childhood? (And in a Guanyin Temple of all places?!) It’s not what he’d been expecting, but he only remembered it when the mention of mountains and fairies recovered that long-lost memory. How could he forget such a precious thing like that? In his defence, it had been a rather difficult… stressful time for him back then, when there had not only been pressure on him to fulfil his duties as the heir, but also a paranoid Uncle breathing down his neck about his attempted kidnapping (and the fact that he had been scolded and yet disobeyed again? Oh, Uncle had been livid).Also, there had been Wangji to look after. A-Zhan to think of, when Mother passed. His didi who withdrew so far into himself, that after a while he even refused to let Lan Xichen hold him, because he no longer found comfort in his older brother’s embrace.With all of that happening, was it any wonder that he forgot? It’s with regret now that he remembers, because… who was the one who asked to be remembered? What an irony that the one who forgot was him.“Something must have happened up there on that mountain, but for the life of us none of us could find out what. For the rest of that summer, all he would talk about were fairies this, and fairies that. Didn’t make a lick of sense. He barely did any work after that either, much to Yu-furen’s despair,” Granny says, causing the women to snicker. “It was unlike him to be distracted, but he kept talking about this fairy he’d made friends with. This person who told him to make wishes to a Lady Goddess.” (She looks directly at Lan Xichen right then, and he wonders if she’s really as dotty as Jiang Cheng thinks she is.)“Wasn’t that probably the person who found him?” the maid asks absently, rolling her sleeves up again.“Well that’s the thing—no one knows. When we asked him what they’d looked like, he could only tell us that they wore white robes, and also,” Granny smiles, “That they were very beautiful and kind, and that they smelled really nice.” The lantern-lit streets are packed so tight that Jiang Cheng feels nauseous.Unfortunately for him, Jin Ling has grabbed onto his sleeve, and no force under heaven will be able to shake him off. At least with him steering them about, it gives him the opportunity to keep his eyes peeled. This kind of bustling crowd is the worst kind of news in his opinion, what with so much brewing underneath, every beggar he sees on the streets makes his stomach clench.There are spots of purple dotted around: his disciples stationed all throughout the place, scanning up and down for any hints of trouble. Whenever one sees him, they merely hold his gaze and let him pass. For once, Jiang Cheng is (grudgingly) impressed with their professionalism.The direction they’re heading in leads to a square. If Jin Ling thinks that’s going to be any less crowded, he must be an idiot, but… Jiang Cheng has no desire to say anything. Seeing Lan Xichen sack out like that has left him feeling restless, and at the same time oddly detached from everything. He’ll waste a few hours with the boys and then head back. Hopefully, he’ll have recovered by then.When they reach the square, surprisingly enough: Jiang Cheng is the idiot.There is, in fact, some breathing space. The boys let out sighs of relief, and then… all of them just stand there. He scowls, seeing this. These boys are practically men, not little kids anymore—men, who face night hunts against dark creatures, and yet they circle around him like this?! Don’t they have any shame? Don’t they want to explore by themselves? Just as he’s about to voice this, Jingyi spots a stall selling sweets and drags Sizhui with him. Perfect. Now, one by one, he expects them all to go their own ways. He can find somewhere to sulk for a few hours, and then he can go home. Only, it doesn’t happen.Jin Ling and that Ouyang boy remain chatting by his side. What the fuck?Jiang Cheng wonders what the heck they need him there for. Jin Ling has made no secret of the fact that he wants more independence. He'll run around wherever he likes—in fact, all of them do that. This little group of fresh-faced, free-spirited, rising stars flit between Gusu, Yunmeng, and Lanling on a whim, chasing whatever monster of the week their seniors have assigned them to.So why are they here clinging to his legs like this? It makes no sense at all!When the Lan boys return holding bunches of tánghúlu, the group head off together, but then Jin Ling stays behind with him, which has Jiang Cheng even more confused. Jin Ling has been rather clingy lately, hanging around Lotus Pier a lot in past weeks.Since the summer began, it seems he’s been determined to maintain ties with Yunmeng, for which Jiang Cheng is glad, but he also wonders… he worries sometimes, whether Jin Ling feels like he’s indebted to him and stays out of a sense of obligation.In which case… that really sucks. “I’m glad Zewu-Jun came,” Jin Ling says, sucking at his sweet. Jiang Cheng chomps on his own skewer. “Ouyang-xiong was definitely coming, but as for the other two… Jingyi wouldn’t come without Sizhui, and Sizhui wasn’t sure if he was coming at all. It all depended on Zewu-Jun’s choice,” he explains, glancing up at him, “Because he refused to leave him behind.”Of course he refused, and of course Lan Xichen came because of this. Jiang Cheng accepts another fruit skewer and mindlessly stuffs his face.“Jingyi told me that Sizhui has been so stressed lately that he asked Zewu-Jun if he would come.” He can detect a hint of guilt here, which must be from seeing how tired Lan Xichen was before. If he pushed himself to come from the start, then he was always bound to end up tiring himself out. Just to check, he asks, “Was he like that before?” Jin Ling said he was fine earlier, but—“He looked the same, but Sizhui says that that is the worry.”Sudden energy loss without any warning. The only thing he could say: I was having so much fun. Bizarre. What kind of disease sucks the life out of someone for having fun?Out of nowhere, he senses eyes on them and spins around. A shadow slips into an alley.Jiang Cheng races over, the juniors right behind him. It’s with no surprise that he finds Wen Ning standing there. The instinct to attack him takes a moment to shake off. Jiang Cheng squints at the corpse’s drenched figure, and figures that he must have come from the lake. From what he has heard, Wen Ning has a habit of clinging to the bottom of boats (like a water ghoul, his mind supplies). Wen Ning makes an even more pitiful picture than Jiang Cheng currently feels: in his tattered robes, dripping lake water in the dirty alley, looking longingly at the festival lights. He’s reminded of a stray dog sitting outside a restaurant just to smell the food.“You,” Jiang Cheng says, marching over. The juniors scurry after him, Sizhui running to catch his elbow. Jiang Cheng shrugs him off. “Who let you inside Lotus Pier?” A thought comes to him, “Are you hunting something?”“No,” Wen Ning says, sounding shocked.If Wen Ning came here knowing Lan Xichen would be under Jiang Cheng’s protection, what other reason could he be here for but to follow some sort of lead? “Did Wei Wuxian send you then?” he demands, already reaching for Jin Ling. Wen Ning’s mouth opens, but he glances back at the lights. Jiang Cheng pauses. Could he just be here for the festival?“Senior Jiang,” Sizhui pleads. “It isn’t like that! I invited him. Please don’t be angry.”A vein throbs in Jiang Cheng’s temple. He smacks his poor, poor forehead. “What were you even thinking?!” he explodes, jabbing Wen Ning right in the chest. Thank god they plugged that hole up. “Looking like that, you’re far too obvious! Even my shitty disguise is better than that!” Grumbling to himself, he chucks his cloak at the corpse’s startled face.Wen Ning recoils a little. “W… What?” Jiang Cheng glares. “What do you mean ‘what’? Put it on! If you go around looking like that you’ll cause mass panic.” Not a single inhabitant of Lotus Pier doesn’t know who Wen Ning is, or what Jiang Cheng thinks of the man. “I may hate everything about this fucking ridiculous festival, but I won’t have you ruining things for others!”“You mean—”“Put. The fucking. Cloak. On.” Jiang Cheng strides out of the alleyway just as quickly as he came. “And try investing in some cosmetics if you’re going to walk around in public,” he adds over his shoulder, cracking his knuckles. “Especially with these brats.”When they resume browsing the streets, Jiang Cheng mostly ignores the other man, more focused on trying to find a way to escape from this nightmare. Jin Ling is persistent in sticking to him, and Jingyi keeps running back and forth to dump piles of food in his arms. He even brings back one of those melons which have been carved into the shape of a pheasant.It seems that these young masters he’d been warning Lan Xichen about are more interested in food than girls or poetry. I’m going to be resting, he'd said. Have fun, he’d said.That traitorous bastard.Eventually, they end up by the docks, where Ouyang Zizhen lets out a shocking yelp. Everyone nearby turns around, but the boy keeps swatting at the air. Jin Ling scoffs. “They’re just dragonflies! Relax!”Jiang Cheng feels some sympathy for the boy, if only because they seem oddly attracted to him. This time when a few fly towards him, he sends out a pulse of spiritual energy. They dart away but return with a vengeance. God fucking damn it. “They’ll die down by autumn,” someone says, but he thinks to himself: it’s already the end of summer, does that not make it autumn?!“Young master, will you buy some qiaoguo? Two strings for one!”Jin Ling walks over to the seller and brings back six strings. Six strings of a dozen qiaoguo each. Immediately Jiang Cheng says: “Jin Ling, that’s far too many.” He can’t help wincing when a string is hung around his neck, feeling very much like that ox from before.“Can we eat these?” Jingyi asks, already chewing on one.Then someone yells, “RAIN!” and everything stops. A plop of water hits him on the nose. Then another hits his cheek. The rain comes suddenly and without warning. Sheets of water pour from the skies, completely drenching everything. Looking up, the only way they know that there are clouds above is the fact that none of the stars can be seen. It’s getting worse by the second—thunder rumbling, lightning following.In moments, everyone is yelling and running for shelter. Screeches come from all over Yunmeng, as though the whole city was being consumed by fierce corpses!Jiang Cheng thinks, you morons. So what if it’s raining? It’s just water! How can his people, the people of the lakes, be reacting like this!!“Oh, it’s stuck! Oh, oh, oh…” The old man selling the qiaoguo has his shoulder wedged under his cart stall, his back curved to push with all his might. It doesn’t budge. The juniors immediately rush out to help him.Jiang Cheng sighs, rolling his eyes up to the heavens. He wants to say leave the damn thing, but they’re far too stubborn a bunch of goodie-goodies to listen to him, and it may well be that the man’s living depends on it.Might as well take out some of his frustration, he figures. What’s the harm, now that he’s already wet? He kicks everyone out of the way and grabs one side of the cart. Wen Ning rushes in to grab the other, and together they shove it towards the same shelter everyone else is huddled under. The man falls over himself thanking them profusely. “Oi! You,” Jiang Cheng points at the juniors, “Hurry up, let’s go!”Then another crack of thunder shakes the ground, causing goose-bumps to erupt all over his body.“Best wait it out, sir,” the seller says, pulling out several baskets full of qiaoguo. “Oh thank the heavens, they’re still dry. Come, take as many as you want! Payment for helping me! Eat, eat! I can make more,” he says, and indeed takes his pan out and starts heating up some oil.Jiang Cheng is about to refuse on their behalf, but the boys are already surrounding the cart stuffing their faces. Every inch of floor-space is crammed with people, much to his disgust. To spare himself from having to touch anybody, he stays at the very edge of the pavilion. He’s not scared of getting rained on and shows this by seating himself on the steps.Soon enough most of the market sellers have joined in, rummaging in their bags for things to trade and share things with each other. Holy shit. These people will literally do anything to keep their festival going. He’d be impressed if it wasn’t so annoying!To his endless despair, the majority of goods are being handed to the juniors (how much sugar is that?!), but then some are even thrust into his arms too! It’s an utterly bizarre moment when he and Wen Ning share an identical look of pure bewilderment: one of them unable to eat—the other literally unable to eat any more.Wen Ning carefully wraps his pastries up, giving Jiang Cheng a flashback to… to A-Jie saying, I brought so much anyways. Anyone who sees it gets some! A bowl of soup being held by Wen Ning. (What will he do with it afterwards? he’d wondered at the time—and here is his answer.) Sizhui shuffles over to add some other treats to the package… which is when Jiang Cheng starts to notice something.Before he can say anything, Ouyang randomly shrieks, squirming away from—“It’s just a bug, you coward!” Jin Ling cackles, shoving his friend off his lap.Jiang Cheng sighs but shuffles away from the few dragonflies that have also decided to hide from the rain. He lifts his foot to stomp on one, but then a woman cries out. “It’s bad luck, Sect Leader (“That’s Sect Leader?!” the qiaoguo-seller hisses),” she warns, shrinking slightly under Jiang Cheng’s withering stare. “They say dragonflies embody the souls of dragons! Dragons, sir! To kill one would definitely be bad luck!”“What’s the difference? They’re going to die anyway.” The dragonflies are crawling on their bellies, their wings unable to fly. He’d be putting them out of their misery.“Blast this rain!” Jingyi howls, shaking his fist at the skies. “Killing dragon souls!” (Is he drunk? Jiang Cheng squints at the jar on his lap.)“Usually rain is lucky—a blessing from the gods,” another woman says, shaking her head, “But in this case, it is indeed very bad luck. For Zhïnu and Niulang it’s another year of separation!” (Oh fuck. He can practically sense everyone leaning in to listen. This woman probably fancies herself as some sort of storyteller. Fucking hell, not this again!) She sucks in a deep breath, and then, lo and behold: “The Weaver-girl and the Cowherd, two lovers separated by heaven and earth…”His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull. He’s heard this story so many times. Goddess comes down to earth, fools around with a cowherd, has some babies, gets lazy, gets scolded, gets taken back to heaven, blah, blah, blah. The boys are eating it up though (quite literally eating—how much have they eaten??), as are most of the crowd.Jingyi especially is hanging onto every word, leaning against his sentimental buddy Ouyang, who keeps swooning and sighing like some lovestruck maiden. Jin Ling appears bored, but even Sizhui is listening with rapt attention.(Sizhui, who is—)“…so to keep them separated thereafter, the Heavenly River was created to keep them from meeting. Out of sympathy, all the magpies of the world come together once a year to form a bridge so that they can be reunited.”Jingyi gasps, “Only once a year?!”“But how can that be?” Ouyang demands. “Once a year is… is only once a year!”Jin Ling has heard this all before, but even he scowls in solidarity. Sizhui is naturally the one to ask: “But you said something about them being separated another year?”“Well, that’s what happens if it rains! If it rains the magpies can’t come, can they? Who could fly through such heavy rain?”I could, Jiang Cheng thinks glumly. With Sandu, he could fly through any type of weather; even rain like this would be nothing. He watches the boys pass the wine jar around. Sizhui handles himself pretty well, his cheeks turning only slightly pink. In comparison, Jingyi becomes a complete and utter mess, slumped over his hoard of snacks and wailing about dead dragons.When he starts singing to himself, Jiang Cheng sucks in a deep breath and counts to ten. The Gusu Lan rules, sung like a bawdy sailor’s shanty. Is the infamous Gusu Lan alcohol intolerance truly this bad? (But in that case, Sizhui—)“I can’t eat these,” a voice says beside him. Wen Ning is holding a bundle of snacks, not really meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “But since Zew—since other young master isn’t here, if it’s not too much trouble…”“Sure. I’ll take it to him.”“Thank you. And, um. About the cloak, I—”“Keep it for now.”“Oh.”Suddenly Jin Ling explodes in a stream of curses, leaping to his feet and kicking Jingyi in the chest. Wine has been spilt all over his lap. Sizhui jumps up before it makes contact with his robes and hooks Jin Ling by the collar, holding Jingyi back with his foot. Ouyang is completely oblivious to the imminent brawl, munching snacks and still looking quite tearful. “…”“I can’t deal with this any longer,” Jiang Cheng finally says, stuffing the bundle into the front of his robes. “You handle this. I’m done. I am done, do you hear me? It’s one thing to be stupid, it’s another to be drunk! All I ask is that you bring them back alive, alright? Is that reasonable? Good.”Without waiting for an answer, he takes another deep breath and then runs out into the night. The squelching sounds are oddly familiar, or is that the sound of his footsteps? Lan Xichen tilts his head with a smile, “You’re back early.”Jiang Cheng squelches his way across the room, dumps a package onto the table in front of him, “Snacks, if you want. From Wen Ning.” “Wen Ning?” Lan Xichen looks up from his painting and lets out a gasp. “Goodness did… did something happen?”He starts peeling his outer robe off. The sounds are rather horrifying. “Are you trying to be funny?” He gestures outside, “Was it not just pissing it down mere moments ago?”“It was,” Lan Xichen agrees, watching him undo his hair, squeeze out the water, and tie it up again. “So… you survived the night. How was it?”“Disastrous.”“And the boys?”“The boys are drunk. I gave up on them. Turns out this Sect Leader can only take so much.” Jiang Cheng lets out a strange-sounding laugh. “You Lans really can’t handle your drink, can you?” He pauses, then starts walking to the door again, “Speaking of drinks… Granny? Sisi? I’m busy! Bring in some refreshments! Thank you!” A muffled voice yells in the distance. Jiang Cheng kicks the door shut, returns to the table and slumps down opposite him. “It is strange how the rain can make you thirsty sometimes,” Lan Xichen offers.“Well, I’ve probably eaten my weight in sugar.”“That’ll do it too,” he chuckles. Then Lan Xichen’s mind catches up with the conversation, and he notices Jiang Cheng watching him rather closely. You Lans really can’t handle your drink, can you? “Did… Did all the boys drink then? All of them?”Jiang Cheng nods. “All of them,” he confirms. “It seemed to work pretty fast on Jingyi. You lied about him, by the way. His poetry is fucking awful.”Lan Xichen purses his lips, “Agree to disagree.”“Well, it is when he starts singing it. Then he started singing the rules,” he says dryly. “By heart.”“But he sings quite well.”“I think you’re missing the point here,” Jiang Cheng huffs. “Sizhui, on the other hand, seems to handle his liquor pretty well.”“…”“Which is strange, considering you Lan’s aren’t known for being good with alcohol.”“…”“Lan Xichen, can we talk about Sizhui?”The way he asks is without any inflection, and Lan Xichen really doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t know Sizhui was good with his alcohol. The Lan’s have their own special category of ‘lightweight’, which—according to Nie Mingjue—means he shouldn’t even step foot in a tavern, or risk having the fumes carry him straight up to the moon. Jiang Cheng has revealed nothing of his thoughts at the current time, but one thing that’s certain is: he knows. Sizhui is his nephew. He’s Wangji’s son in all but blood, and he’s… he’s a good boy. Lan Xichen swore to protect him. On the other hand, Jiang Cheng is his friend. A friend he trusts. Can I trust him with this though? he wonders. Does he even have the right to? This is not his son, but this is his nephew. Doesn’t that count for anything?“Alright, let me make this easier on you. Answer me this: do you think me a fool?” Jiang Cheng asks grimly. “Does Wei Wuxian? Does everyone?”“No,” Lan Xichen says sincerely.“I know I’m no genius, but I have eyes, you know? It’s pretty obvious when you think about it.” He starts checking off fingers. “Lan Sizhui is an orphan. He was adopted into the Lan Sect shortly after the Burial Mounds. One would assume the fact that Wen Ning has decided to become his faithful protector would have some reason behind it—other than being on Wei Wuxian’s orders, of course."Oh, and the last piece of the puzzle,” he exclaims, slapping his knee with a manic grin. “Unlike you Lan’s, he can hold his liquor!”What is he supposed to say? Only one thing comes to mind: “When did you find out?”“Not tonight,” Jiang Cheng admits. “It’s probably been sitting there in the back of my head for a while now, and I’ve just been ignoring it. He’s what, seventeen? That’s the same age when we first met Wen Ning. Their resemblance is uncanny.” He wearily drags both hands over his face, shutting his eyes. Lan Xichen watches this with his heart in his throat.“Don’t you have anything to say?”“I can't. It was never my secret to tell.”“Secret? Right,” his eyelids flutter open, revealing a dull, tired gaze. “A secret. A life or death secret.” His voice is toneless, the sound sending chills up Lan Xichen’s spine. “Does he even know who he is?”“We never told him. When Wangji brought him back, he was running a fever which caused him to lose all his memories,” Lan Xichen says, wondering if Jiang Cheng can put the last pieces together. (That the child who once hugged his leg—the same child who hugged Lan Xichen’s leg, once he’d recovered from his illness. That they are one in the same.) “Last year seems to have triggered some of those memories.”“And yet he’s not scared of me,” Jiang Cheng says wonderingly, staring into space. “Even from what he knows about me and my attitude towards Wens, he’s… of course he doesn’t know that I know, but he probably fears me finding out, doesn’t he?” He looks at Lan Xichen. “If I told him that I knew who he was, would he die of fright? Is my reputation really that fearsome?”“Your hatred for the Wens remains, does it not?” This is the thing everything else is measured against. “Your reputation was built on years of making this known.”“But it’s different now, isn’t it?” Jiang Cheng’s jaw tightens, a laugh crawling out of his throat. “God, everything is so—it’s different when I… when Jin Ling is friends with one of them, and the other has saved both of our lives. His family killed my family, then I killed his family, but who has Sizhui killed? No one.” He scoffs. “Or at least, not yet.”“That’s not…” That’s the one thing Sizhui truly fears. The one thing he has cried over, which makes him work so hard to break those expectations and prove himself as a Lan: to be righteous, to not burn like the sun. Lan Xichen rises onto his knees, “You can’t assume—”“I didn’t say I was assuming anything! Stop putting words into my mouth! I know that everyone expects the worst from me, but I had hoped you might be different!”This is the first show of anger, but hearing it—it hits him then, that Jiang Cheng is more offended by the secret than angered by it. That he’s made so much progress so fast is truly staggering, but also apparently quite terrifying. To suddenly not hate all of the Wens, to be able to tolerate (and even like) two of them… it must be life-changing. The process of letting go is always more difficult than holding on, and like a dam bursting the release of pressure must be immense. To uncover such a thing, and to discover it by accident, all by himself… it’s no wonder that Jiang Cheng must be feeling hurt, if not betrayed by all the secrecy. Now that he’s trying so hard to open himself to others, it must be a slap in the face to realise that despite his efforts, he was not included in that innermost circle of trust. But does he know that that circle is not even a handful of people? Just Wangji, Uncle, Wei Wuxian and himself.
No one ever tells me anything.
Does he always feel excluded? It’s awful to think that Jiang Cheng had to learn the truth like this. Earlier he asked himself: can I trust him with this? and now feels ashamed for even questioning that, because—
I know that everyone expects the worst from me, but I had hoped you might be different!
And now as Jiang Cheng stares at him with those piercing blue eyes of his, he finds himself feeling both humbled and overwhelmed. He wants to be different. He wants to be—“Do you really think I’d kill him?”“No, of course not—”“Two years ago I would have. Without a doubt I would have. But things have changed. Things are different now, and I’m different too. You can see that, can’t you? You can see that I’ve changed?”(I can see that you’re the same, Lan Xichen wants to say. The same heart under all those layers. After all these years, you are more yourself than ever.)“I can see that… despite everything, you’re willing to forgive if not forget. Your mind is clearer now than it’s ever been, enough to be willing to see Sizhui for the person he is, and not let his parentage decide his fate. You have managed this all by yourself,” Lan Xichen says, gaining confidence the more Jiang Cheng’s mouth slackens. “All of this is a mark of your resilience.”“No, it isn’t. It’s just because—you said it yourself, the world is grey. That’s what this is. That’s what everything is.” Jiang Cheng takes a steadying breath, gnawing at his bottom lip.Sensing something else amiss, Lan Xichen says softly, “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, but if you want I will listen.”“I… I’m just trying to work it out. For myself. I hate the Wens, right? I will always hate the Wens. But then I gave Wen Ning my cloak. How does that make any sense? He was walking around looking like the damn corpse he is, and I just—gave it to him. Just like that.”“Maybe you felt sorry for him?”“Why would I do that? He came for the festival, Xichen. He came to see the very thing that I hate with every fibre of my being. If anything, I feel sorry for the fact that he has no taste.” He scratches his nose in thought. “Do you think the hate cancelled itself out? Is that even possible? In which case, it’s only right that I left him with the boys as payback for giving me all this confusion.”“When you put it that way, I suppose you’re right.” Lan Xichen thinks about it, and then asks, “Just to clarify, about Sizhui…?”Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem to realise he’s being teased, and continues: “What, my thoughts on him? That one is unfortunately the most sensible junior out of his generation. Granted that isn’t saying much, but without him there, what would the rest of them be like?"Nine times out of ten, I’ll turn around and find Jin Ling is trying to rip Jingyi’s balls off for calling him a princess, or it’s the other way around. I had to see him hold them apart like they were two cats trying to fight. It’s a fucking disgrace, is what it is.” Putting his head in his hands. “So in the end, what choice do I have but to keep him alive? My sanity depends on it, if nothing else.”Lan Xichen suddenly bursts out laughing. The relief and madness of it catches him by surprise. Jiang Cheng seems determined to convince himself that his mercy is the product of logical thought, ignoring all the kindness in each of his actions. In short, he is very much in denial, but if he needs these excuses to justify himself—if he feels like it will save him some face, then who is he to argue with that logic?Hopefully, one day he’ll realise that none of this is a mark of weakness, but one of strength and self-discovery.(One day Lan Xichen will tell him: that a man who is humble enough to see his mistakes, brave enough to admit them, and wise enough to correct them, needs no excuse for changing his ways. So long as he knows his reasons for doing so, no matter what others think—he will never lose face, at least not in any way that matters.)“You’re right,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “You’re absolutely right.”“I’ve put far too much time into raising Jin Ling for him to die from something that stupid. At least with Sizhui around, he’ll have a better chance of learning some manners. He’s a good kid I suppose, even if he is just as sappy as the rest of them.” He makes a face then. “I just don’t get why he keeps coming to ask me stuff though, and about such silly things.”“Silly things?”Jiang Cheng frowns. “Has he told you about the butterflies?”Lan Xichen chuckles warmly, “Of course. How else would there have been butterflies at the wedding?” The story had to be prised out of Sizhui, like getting blood from a stone! It was payment for getting Lan Xichen to procure a whole basket of butterflies, but despite the hassle of what that entailed. Totally worth it.Jiang Cheng’s eyes twinkle with mirth. “That was you?”“Sect Leader, we brought your drinks.” Sisi walks in carrying a tray and smiles at Lan Xichen. Behind her, Minzhen gives Jiang Cheng (and the puddle beneath him) a scathing once-over. “Did you happen to swim back home, sir?”“I forgot to ask,” Jiang Cheng says, ignoring both women completely. “Have you eaten?”Before he can answer, Sisi huffs. “You think we wouldn’t feed him?” She rolls her eyes and flounces off, leaving Minzhen clicking her tongue at him before leaving too.“Yes, I’ve eaten. Thank you for asking,” Lan Xichen says, reaching over to grab the tray. “I’ve eaten and I’ve rested. Truth be told, I’m feeling much too awake right now, especially considering how late it is.”“I know what you mean. That was far too much sugar for a man my age.”“Were you forced to eat it?”“…”The silence that falls is unexpectedly comfortable, especially after that dizzying avalanche of a conversation just before. Jiang Cheng’s gaze drops to the table, eyes widening at Lan Xichen’s work. It’s only a few paintings of the lotus lake, and one of the lanterns hung around the pier. He admires them for a while and then starts drumming his fingers on his knee.“Are you going to paint?”Lan Xichen perks up a little. Does Jiang Cheng want to join him? He usually doesn’t ask. Usually, he just grabs a brush and goes to town. Indeed, he isn’t making any moves towards the table. In fact, he looks like he can’t bear to be seated any longer. (Does he perhaps… need to relieve himself?) “Well, I was planning to. Are you alright, Wanyin? You look sort of… agitated.”Jiang Cheng bites his lip, then surges to his feet. “I… I’m sorry. This sounds really stupid, but I—I feel like I have ants crawling under my skin. It’s like, I really need to move, you know? Do you mind if I do some training? I think I need to burn off some of this sugar.”He says all of this in the span of about three seconds. Lan Xichen waves him off. “By all means.”“I’ll train over there,” Jiang Cheng says, pointing to a wooden deck. Most of the exterior walls in Lotus Pier are retractable to allow ventilation in the heat, and on a warm night like this, they are thrown wide open. The deck is basically an extension of the room and seems to float above the ink-black waters. “Then we can still talk if you want.”“Best not talk when training,” Lan Xichen says automatically. Then he studies the wooden planks gleaming under the moonlight. “Isn’t it wet?”“Does it matter?” Jiang Cheng shoots him a startling grin, and with that leaps outside. He sucks in a deep breath, tilting his head back as he exhales. Rolling his shoulders back, he begins stretching his limbs to warm up.Lan Xichen hums and dips his brush in the ink. “Don’t you want your drink first? I thought you were thirsty.”“You assumed I was thirsty. Who said the drink was for me?”Another good point. Lan Xichen pours a cup and raises it to concede to his remark. Then he takes a sip… and then another. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng pulls out Sandu and starts doing some basic movements, his body almost trembling from the amount of sugar in it. Dear god, his blood feels like acid. It really pains him to admit, but he ate far too many sweets. Moving slowly is torture at first, but then it builds up and up, and fuck—warming up has never felt so good. He checks over his shoulder and stops mid-lunge.Lan Xichen is chugging the jar. He stares.Lan Xichen has abandoned his cup. He’s literally downing it straight from the jar. “It seems like I was right to order you a drink, then,” Jiang Cheng says, turning back to resume his previous stance. When there is no answer, but he assumes that Lan Xichen is busy drinking, which… okay, so Jiang Cheng is a little thrown by this behaviour, but who is he to judge him? He’s the one training when he should be entertaining his guest.After everything today, he figures: what the hell are manners between the two of them anymore?Once he’s finished warming up, Jiang Cheng starts doing some drills. He climbs through each exercise as fast as he can, moving swiftly through each sequence. He’s hopeful that with both speed and accuracy he will be able to purge this fucking awful sugar-rush from his body.He becomes so focused on practice that he doesn’t even notice when it begins to rain.Unbeknownst to him, Lan Xichen finished drinking a while ago, and now sits watching him.All thoughts of painting have gone from his mind. Does he have any idea what he looks like? he wonders. Rumours that the movements of the Yunmeng Jiang technique are modelled after water seem to be true, because as Jiang Cheng flows from one form to the next, his body becomes the powerful current that runs through the rivers. The pulse that pumps blood through life’s veins.When the moonlight shines on the planes of his face, he sees that he has his eyes half-closed, and his expression utterly serene.The rain is softer this time, and when the thunder comes, each tremor seems to echo in Lan Xichen’s heart. Thump-thump thump-thump, faster and faster, his breath also quickening. Does he know what he looks like? That question returns to him, again and again. In a flash, he has an epiphany: Jiang Cheng’s perfect calligraphy, his effortless running-style—it’s just like this.He is writing in motion… no, that doesn’t make sense. Oh, right: poetry in motion. That’s what he meant.“Lan Xichen? Hey, hey—what do you think you’re doing?!” Jiang Cheng leaps forwards, blocking Lan Xichen’s path. Oh, when did he stand up? “Don’t come out here! It’s raining, you idiot.”“But you’re outside.”Jiang Cheng frowns at him. “Are you feeling okay? Your face is sort of… flushed.” (Jiang Cheng is wet, Lan Xichen thinks. Completely soaked through. He wipes his hand on his leg, but when he touches Lan Xichen’s forehead his fingers are still wet.) “Are you feeling sick again?”“I’m feeling… I feel…”“Sit down before you fall down,” Jiang Cheng instructs, pushing him back down. He seems rather worried. “Do you need medicine? Should I call the doctor? Are you feeling alrig—”“I think… I think I drank something,” he says, sounding mildly surprised. He turns to Jiang Cheng, smacking his lips. Then he sticks out his tongue, “Do ‘oo thee anythin’ ‘ere?”Jiang Cheng stares. Then he slowly reaches for the emptied jar. Lan Xichen watches him sniff it and then tries to sniff it too. “Holy shit,” he hears him mutter. “He’s drunk.” Then he jumps up, walks over to the door, and sticks his head out. “SISI! MINZHEN! GET IN HERE!”After a few moments, only Minzhen stomps in. “Is it really necessary to be shouting at this time of night, boss—”“Did you bring him alcohol?”“Bring him alcohol? No, we brought you alcohol,” she says. “Your usual nightcap after the festival. The one you always request to send you off into sweet oblivion. That’s what you asked for.”“No, I asked for a drink,” Pointing at Lan Xichen, “For him. He can’t have alcohol.”She raises her brows. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, sir. It’s osmanthus wine. Kids drink it and are just fine.”“…”“Maybe if you had been more specific—”“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says excitedly, “Let’s train together!!” “What?” Jiang Cheng whirls around just in time to grab him before he staggers outside. “No, no, no! I told you it’s raining. Hey—sit down!”“But Wanyin is training, and I…” Reaching out, Lan Xichen manages to stick his arm into the rain. He gasps, pulls it back and holds it out to Jiang Cheng. “Oh… look.”Jiang Cheng pinches the skin between his brows. “Wow. Incredible. The rain made your arm wet. Who would have thought?”“…”“Okay look, if you’ll just sit down, then I can—urrk!” A cold, wet hand is slapped to his face. It’s mostly the cold part which is shocking. “Lan Xiche—!”“Shhh!! Don’t call me that!! Remember? We’re in disguise!” “It’s fine here—”“You must call me Lan Huan!!” Then the idiot grabs and tugs at his cheek. “Oh, but you used to have such round, rosy cheeks. What happened?” he asks, utterly dismayed. “You—!”“Oh! And you used to pick these too,” he says, grabbing the lotus he’d picked earlier on. “Remember?”“What are you talking about? You picked this.”“No, no, you picked the flowers, don’t you remember? Like you said. Here, for you,” he says, curling Jiang Cheng’s fingers firmly around the stem, “To say sorry.”“Sorry? Sorry for what?”“For forgetting, and not telling you, and because you told me things that made you sad,” he says solemnly, lowering his head. “And because Wanyin is a good person. A good person. And I wish I was his friend.”“But… we are friends?”Lan Xichen suddenly beams bright enough to rival the sun, squeezing Jiang Cheng’s hand to the point of breaking. “Did you know Wanyin? The person who found you—that person was me!” Lan Xichen says, slapping his chest proudly. “This one, here! Your fairy!” He pauses, lifting a wrist to his nose and sniffing. “Do I smell nice?”“What the fuck.” He’s talking gibberish, Jiang Cheng thinks despairingly. The alcohol has addled his brain! Compared to what Wei Wuxian has told him about his husband’s drunken antics, Lan Xichen just seems to… to talk a lot, and speak a bunch of nonsense too. Also, what’s with that voice? He sounds like a kid! “Lan Xichen—”“Disguise!”“Lan Huan, can you just… stay here. Give me a minute. I need to think.” He starts pacing.What a nightmare. To escape from drunk teenagers only to end up with a full-grown drunk man on his hands? This is clearly not Jiang Cheng’s night!Lan Xichen is quite obedient for now, but how long will that last? Drunk people are never content with sitting around unless they’re the crying or sleeping type, and Lan Xichen is apparently neither of those. He isn’t really sure what type of drunk Lan Xichen is, other than a very enthusiastic one.Sure enough, Lan Xichen springs up after only a couple of seconds.“What are you doing? Didn’t I say to stay put?!”“I am staying put, but I wanted to stand!!”He’s already swaying on his feet, so Jiang Cheng grabs his arm to steady him.Again, the thought comes to him—if his spiritual energy is gone, does that mean he’s not at full strength physically? The two are definitely connected, but Lan Xichen was able to help carry the melon sack before. Although, he’s pretty easy to move around like this, hardly resisting it when Jiang Cheng holds him still, so… none of this makes sense! Is it out of choice, or is he actually that weak?Either way, he’d be even more of a handful if he were at his full strength… He doesn’t even want to think of him doing a repeat of before: pushing himself too far and ending up getting hurt. But Lan Xichen seems intent on doing something whilst he’s drunk, and in his current state that could lead to disaster. What can he do to distract him until he’s sober?“Can we train together?”“You don’t have Shuoyue with you.” Not that that’s the actual reason!Usually trying to talk sense to a drunk person is hopeless, but Lan Xichen seems to be an exception to this rule. “Oh right, makes sense,” he agrees, looking at Sandu longingly.Jiang Cheng sighs. He’s not exactly happy either. He didn’t get to finish his exercises, so the jittery feeling from before hasn’t gone away. Stopping a practice midway is never a good idea, but that added to the current situation makes him feel pretty terrible. Lan Xichen is leaning heavily on him by this point, which is when he comes to a decision.“Listen, you’re not feeling very good right now, right? So first, you need to sit down.” He pushes him down, and Lan Xichen lets him. Then he looks down at himself and then back up at him. “Can we do something together?”“Sure,” Jiang Cheng agrees, “But only if you stay indoors and out of the rain.”Lan Xichen hums, nodding enthusiastically. “What can we do then?”“What if… what if I train like I did before? Then you can watch me, like when you’re training your disciples, and correct me if my form is wrong (not that it will be). It’ll be sort of like we’re training together.”“…Okay!!”“And if you get bored, you can paint,” Jiang Cheng adds, breathing a sigh of relief—if this works out he can burn off some energy, and hopefully Lan Xichen will sober up a little bit too. “The inks are there, there’s plenty of paper, does that sound okay?”“Okay!!”He nods firmly, and then, without taking his eyes off the man, backs out into the rain. He’s still sitting, still watching, and still smiling like a lunatic. Perfect. Just as Jiang Cheng turns his back to him— “Wanyin?!”“Oh for the love of—”“Can I paint you?!”“You can paint whatever the fuck you want if you stay over there!”“But I can’t see you!! It’s too dark outside, and you’re too far away—”The moon only comes and goes in passing, shining through the breaks between the thick rainclouds. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, curls his fists, and reminds himself: he’s drunk, it’s not his fault he’s being a fucking moron. Don’t get angry at him. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Despite this, his temper slips and—“OOOOH!!!”“What?!” He spins around. Lan Xichen has leapt to his feet again. “Fucking hell! Sit down!”“That—that Wanyin!! That light was pretty!!”Jiang Cheng glances down, and sure enough, Zidian is sparking. That… that gives him an idea.“Okay listen, I will train with Zidian if you promise to stay over there.” He whips Zidian out and the purple lightning trickles down his arm, sucking energy from his core. (Ahhh, that felt so good! Much more effective at using up this excess energy!) Lan Xichen lets out another “oooooh”, which drags a smile out of him. “Stay over there, okay? I’m serious. I don’t want to see you move an inch—”“Yes, yes, I’ll stay!!”He waits for him to settle down, and then decides to just… go for it. Let loose everything. It would seem to contradict his goal to keep an eye on Lan Xichen, but in fact allowing his senses to connect with the world around him, letting his spiritual energy spill out into his surroundings… it’s like everything the rain touches he can feel.Zidian sings through the water. It’s part of the training the Spiders put him through, letting every point of contact he makes through Zidian filter into himself. Adapting it to his sword technique, making the two interchangeable—he becomes Sandu Shengshou.He becomes invincible. Untouchable. A part of the rain, thunder and lightning.A boom breaks him out of his trance. He glances up at a sky filled with colours. Fireworks. Some idiot has braved the rain for fireworks. Jiang Cheng shakes his head, laughing a little as he spins and leaps. Zidian sizzles and cracks with each boom and hiss of the fireworks, and Jiang Cheng finds himself lost to the rhythm.He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, the last boom fades away. Zidian retracts with a flick of his wrist. The purple light sputters out, leaving the smell of ozone hanging in the air.He squelches his way back inside. Not a single part of him is dry anymore. Pulling out his hair ribbon is a painful process, but the one thing Jiang Cheng can’t stand is when hair gets wet and heavy and tugs at the scalp. To his relief, Lan Xichen is right where he left him.But he’s wide-eyed and pale like he’s been whipped by Zidian. That didn’t happen, did it?!“You okay?” he asks, dropping by his side.“I… I’m drunk,” Lan Xichen croaks, sounding stunned. He stares up at Jiang Cheng, helpless like he’s seen a ghost.His expression is too funny, and looking down at the paper, Jiang Cheng laughs. “So after I went through the trouble of using Zidian for you, you still didn’t paint anything?”Lan Xichen ducks his head.“Wasn’t that your idea? Was I too fast, or just too difficult to draw?”“…”Frowning now, “Hello? Xichen, say something.”At first, he doesn’t seem likely to answer, but then he stammers out: “I couldn't! No… no painting would do that justice.” His cheeks are pink, but to Jiang Cheng’s surprise, he sounds utterly sincere. Has he sobered up then?Wait, what did he say?! “You… you must still be drunk,” Jiang Cheng babbles, rubbing his reddening face. “You need to… to sleep it off—”“I’m drunk, but I meant it,” Lan Xichen says, smiling far too happily. “Wanyin is… Wanyin is honest, and I… I…” his eyes flutter shut.“Right, you really need to go to bed,” but when Jiang Cheng reaches for him, Lan Xichen's eyes snap open and he lurches backwards, looking like a startled rabbit. “What the fuck?” Jiang Cheng scowls at him, but then remembers that he’s dripping wet. It must be because of that. Right. “Fine, whatever. Wait here.”He stomps away, returning with an armful of towels and blankets. Lan Xichen is listing to the side but perks up when he arrives. “Better?” Jiang Cheng asks sarcastically, dumping a towel over his shoulders. He grabs Lan Xichen tightly to counter his squirming, and starts dragging him over to the adjoining guest room. The man is slippery like an eel, which is ironic given which one of them is wet, but after a while, he seems to settle down. Jiang Cheng eyes his red face with suspicion. Both of them looking like this… it’s a good thing no one is around at this time of night. He drops Lan Xichen on the bed, then shakes out the blankets and spreads them over him. All through this, Lan Xichen watches him through droopy eyes. “I had fun today,” he slurs groggily, “I’m glad I came.”Jiang Cheng huffs and sits on the edge of the bed. Seems like this stupid man is too stubborn to go to sleep. He should leave him, but… for some reason, he can’t. “I’m glad you had fun, but you’re a mess when you’re drunk.” Turning away, smiling, “Next time, no wine. You’ll come in the morning, rest, and then we can enjoy the festival properly.”“But you don’t like the festival.”Jiang Cheng laughs.“Wanyin, do you ever leave your hair down?”His hair is loose right now, hopelessly tangled and curling around his neck. “To sleep. Like you should be doing.” He reaches over to adjust the pillows, and also to check—his eyes are open! What the fuck. Why isn’t he sleeping? “Do you ever take your forehead ribbon off?”“To sleep.”“Then go to sleep,” he almost begs.Big brown eyes blink up at him, lashes glinting black against the moth-wing paleness of his cheek. There's no way he's taking that ribbon off him. No way. He can’t remember the meaning attached to that ribbon, but knows it's something important—a hand snaps out, faster than should be possible. Jiang Cheng’s breath catches. Long fingers grab onto his hair. Lan Xichen fiddles with the captured handful, twisting it even more into a mess. “What are you doing?”“They’re missing,” he says, reaching up blindly to touch Jiang Cheng’s left temple. “Here, and here.” (Does he mean his braids??) Then Lan Xichen lets out a long yawn, causing Jiang Cheng to snort.“Just so you know, you’re ridiculous. A nuisance. A menace,” he says, detaching the fingers from his hair. “Now go to sleep.”“Slee…p…”He leaves the room, hair a mess, clothes a mess, mind a mess… but oddly charmed, despite it all. What a moron. Has anyone ever seen the First Jade this drunk, he wonders, crouching to clean up the wet floor. If his staff find he left the room like this, he’ll not hear the end of it for weeks. His sworn brothers probably have seen him drunk, but what about his uncle—his brother?Jiang Cheng snickers to himself. They'd shit themselves seeing him like this. Good thing he was used to cleaning up other people's messes. This time, he didn't even mind it so much. As Jiang Cheng wipes the floor and sets the cups on the tray, his eyes fall to the table again. The blank paper, the wet brush.
No painting would do that justice.
He smiles.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Longing, how soft a word for such a ravenous feeling. How we hunger in silence."
— Pavana
Weeks later and he’s still thinking about it. Only now is he starting to get the full picture of how the festival ended. Unlike previous (regrettable) times when he’s managed to get drunk, his recovery took longer, and so retrospect comes in brief spurts of humiliation. The following day was, to put it simply: painful. It had been up to Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen and Sizhui to get them back on the boat. Lan Xichen cannot remember how he got to the boat, only that he somehow did. When he opened his eyes, Jiang Cheng was there. He’d draped a cloth over his eyes, placed something sweet-smelling under his nose, wedged something else under his limp arms, and then patted his shoulder in farewell.Jingyi had groaned the whole way back. When he'd tried checking on him, what he found could only be described, (as Jin Ling so kindly put it) as a “miserable puddle of regret”.What makes Lan Xichen smile whenever he thinks of it though, is the second time he woke up. He’d found that it was a lotus flower that was giving off the sweet smell. A sprig of mint was tied to its stem which had been tucked into his collar. Under his arm was Wen Ning’s bundle of treats (which Jin Ling had already dug into) and a bag of fresh lotus pods.He’d gently nudged Jingyi awake to offer him something to eat, but the first thing the boy did was scream.The reason? “Don’t you find that creepy?!” he’d demanded (far-too-loudly), pointing at the innocent lotus pods. “The holes!” he’d howled, cowering behind Sizhui and gagging until he passed out again.Lan Xichen shakes his head at how… unfortunate their constitution is, to betray them at this one hurdle. Hopefully, it will scare Jingyi off alcohol for a while at least, but he won’t be holding his breath. That boy fights ghosts and corpses when he’s deathly afraid of those same ghosts and corpses. Common sense and Jingyi are not what you might call 'friends'.He drums his fingers on the desk.The other memory that has returned to him in bits and pieces was of the festival night itself. Jiang Cheng yelling to someone in the corridor. His fingers tangling in wet hair. Jiang Cheng valiantly trying to keep him out of the rain. Then… a scene that flashes across his mind like a lightning strike. Bright violet spirals of light, a man standing in the centre of it all, the rain making everything luminous with an otherworldly light. No painting would do that justice. It really, really wouldn’t. Even now as he sits with his brush at the ready, attempting to capture that moment, it's… he can’t do it.Instead, he opens an already-opened letter and submerges himself again in the bustle of Yunmeng preparing for its next big celebration: the mid-autumn festival.Luckily for Jiang Cheng, it's more of a family occasion, and therefore would require less work on his part. Still, the letter is three-quarters full of complaints about… well, pretty much everything. Lan Xichen finds it all quite amusing. Written as if he was ranting at him, he feels like he is right there with him, and… he sort of wishes that he could be.Jiang Cheng is Indeed becoming a rather good storyteller with all of these letters, managing to express the chaos of the outside world in vivid, and often rather blunt descriptions—all written in the most beautiful flowing script.According to Jiang Cheng, the sky-lanterns are the main problem, filling up every available space. He somehow manages to bemoan the fact and commend it in the same sentence, adding that he will burn a lantern for Lan Xichen if he wants. He writes that Lan Xichen can include his wish in his next letter…His wish. But what would he wish for?I want A-Jie to always cook me soup. That was a good wish. Simple, and practical. He would like that soup again too, but lotus roots aren’t as easy to come by in Gusu. I want to be important to someone someday. That one, however… funnily enough that one made him think of a dream he’d had, just last night in fact. Nothing much happened in it, but he remembers he’d been running after someone. All around him were thick mists, and the figure in front of him was a blur of motion. All of a sudden they reached a bridge. The other person raced across, and suddenly Lan Xichen became that person. Looking back behind him, he found himself alone. No one around but him.There had been a sense of loss that clung to his gasping breaths when he woke. A heaviness that sank in his bones when he thought about it too long. Where did they go? Where did he go? Next to the letter and the inks and the blank sheet of paper was a towering stack of work. It had all been completed already, but Uncle brought them back with revisions. Revisions.When Lan Xichen read over the first one, he shoved the rest aside to be ignored. It was easy to see that the elders were just nitpicking, finding faults where there were none. It was their way of letting him know that they weren't satisfied with him as their leader anymore. Even if his work was good, his efforts were not satisfactory. Despite physically being unable to do more, they wanted more from him.And if they didn’t get it, what they'd want was him to elect a more competent person to lead, which—in this case, Lan Xichen knows, means that they have not lost hope that Wangji will accept the position. It’s disrespectful, underhanded, and petty. But most of all, it's… disheartening. He knows he should be doing more. He would if he could, but it is like fighting with half the bones in his body broken. Having to drag himself around with half the strength, constantly in pain… it’s not easy, but he’s trying his best.If there was one thing he could wish for, it would be to get better. Though he is trying to manage his condition as best he can, day by day it chips away at his confidence. He’s never ever felt like this before. Helpless. Weak. On top of that—ashamed. With the elders pressuring him it’s bad enough, but then seeing everyone around him moving on with their lives… it becomes unbearable.He wants… he wishes someone could help him. A friend. A brother. If he were to ask, Wangji would. He knows that.But he doesn’t want to place that burden on him. He doesn’t want to become a burden to anyone, for that matter. He’s already become a hindrance to so many people that he… he can’t ask help from anyone. Not even Jian—No one.…The room is dark. Grey drizzly weather painting everything deep indigo. Even with the meagre light, the cracked veins in the inkstone gleam like rivers of gold. The thing is, Jiang Cheng would help him if he asked. He probably wouldn’t even question it. Elders giving you trouble? Not a problem. Need a hand? It would be my pleasure. Lan Xichen smirks, thinking what Jiang Cheng’s methods are like, and how he might tackle the problem. Just seeing Sandu Shengshou striding up to the council room might be enough to shut them up. But realistically, what would he even ask him for help with? My clan thinks I’m not good enough. They’re right, but if I step aside—do you know who they’ll force into my place?Unacceptable. It’s not Jiang Cheng’s job to sort out these things for him. These are sect matters.It’s not the first time he’s thought it, but god… it’s lonely at the top. It’s lonely and it’s hard. The type of person who would want this responsibility must not understand how little you get in return for it. Though it is an honour to lead a sect, your life is no longer your own. For those like Jiang Cheng and him, their lives have never been their own. But to choose it? Who would choose it?Lan Xichen sighs. Dark times like these (literally dark, but also dark in his mind) are ones when he can’t help thinking of them. The differences between them. The empty spaces they left behind. One, who (like him) had been thrust into the role of a leader; the other whose goal was towards that end. A-Yao, who he still calls brother in his mind, did strive so hard to become important. But the way he got to the top was by stepping on everyone else. It didn’t have to be that way—or at least, Lan Xichen tells himself it didn’t. If A-Yao had only asked for help, he would have gladly put his all into helping him get where he wanted. Without the murder, he tells himself, without the deceit. If it had proven impossible, he would have... but Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have accepted that. And that’s where that thought ends. He’s come to realise that each time he draws out a hypothesis about how things could have been different, there is only so far he can go before it comes full circle and he’s looking at the same result.Deep down, he knows that there was nothing Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have done to get what he wanted. Meng Yao would have thanked Lan Xichen for his help, and then proceed to shed his skin and dot his forehead, all to pursue the same path he’d been intent on from the start.It doesn’t hurt anymore to think about it. It's just another thing to make him feel tired.Lan Xichen opens another letter.A new one will come in the next few days. If not—the next week. It is never too long a gap anymore. Their correspondence volleys faster than the messengers probably appreciate, but how else does a conversation last? At first, he might have called them a distraction from these ‘moods’, but now there is more life in them than his actual life has. As if everything else is the distraction. As if sitting there, he’s waiting.Jiang Cheng is not only a talented calligrapher but also a truly gifted writer. His thoughts are no-holds-barred. The types of observations Lan Xichen wouldn’t dare to say. It’s both refreshing and appalling some of the things he writes. It confirms in his mind that he and Wei Wuxian definitely grew up together, though Jiang Cheng’s sense of humour is drier, and his wit leaning more on profanity than blasé shamelessness.He writes what he thinks though. Truthfully, in every word.And to Lan Xichen, it’s a relief to not (ever again) have to second-guess anything. It just makes everything so much better.The lotus flower has lost its fragrance, but he’s pressed it between two heavy books. It’ll never dry flat with him always opening the pages to check on it, but he loves to remember… that’s just it. He loves to remember. There is nothing more satisfying to him than to preserve the warmth of nostalgia with keepsakes. Either that or the solace found by walking in the rain.Lan Xichen gazes longingly at the weeping skies, though it is a bit heavy for his liking.But who is that outside?He rises to his feet, the height allowing him to see the dark silhouette swaying near the trees. One could almost mistake them for another tree, but Lan Xichen knows who it is, and so he lets out a weary sigh and hurries to the door. It’s deafening outside with every surface being pelted with water.On the veranda, he cups his hands to his mouth. “I’ve told you before, come inside!” he calls, waving him over. “Come on!”The Ghost General makes for a sorry sight. Like this, he reminds him of a stray puppy he once found as a child, seeking shelter under a fishing net. Poor thing didn’t know what being dry and warm felt like until he accidentally happened to misplace his cloak on that outing. Wen Ning flips his arm in a gesture that clearly says I’m fine. “Don’t make me come out there,” Lan Xichen warns, finally coaxing the fierce corpse onto the porch with a stern look. A sheet of water sluices down his body, immediately collecting in a wide puddle beneath him. Lan Xichen opens the door, beckoning him inside. He hesitates. “I’m meant to be guarding you.”“I fail to see how you can’t do that from indoors.”Wen Ning thinks about it for a minute. It still amazes Lan Xichen that he is able to do so. That here is a corpse with full consciousness—who can think and feel just like any other person.“If… if there was an intruder, and there was to be a fight,” he says slowly. “Your belongings might—” He slips, slams a hand in the wall to catch himself. The wood splinters. “… m-might get broken.”“Ah yes, as opposed to them invading my home and leaving everything perfectly intact.”“…”“Hm, it’s rather chilly out here,” Lan Xichen comments idly, tucking his hands into his armpits. Wen Ning trudges inside. As he stands awkwardly in the entrance, he looks like he is too afraid to touch anything lest he accidentally breaks it. Silly man. He pulls a towel around Wen Ning’s shoulders, fingers brushing on the sodden cloak—the cloak Jiang Cheng gave to him. It makes him smile a little to think that underneath that gruff, grumpy exterior, Jiang Cheng is rather kind. To literally give a man he once counted as an enemy the clothes off his back.
You can see that, can’t you? You can see that I’ve changed?
“I can’t get sick from being wet,” Wen Ning protests when Lan Xichen takes the cloak to hang up and urges him to sit down. He twists stiff fingers into ragged sleeves, as though wishing he still had the cloak to hide under.“No, but you can get uncomfortable from it,” he replies. He isn’t actually sure if that’s true, but just like before, Wen Ning doesn’t argue with him. If he’s being honest, it feels a bit like he’s bullying him like this, but if he didn’t, he would never accept anything Lan Xichen might give him, which… speaking of—“Young Master Wen,” he says, in a hopefully non-threatening way. “Are you certain I can’t change your mind?” Wen Ning tilts his head curiously. “About the house. About having a place to stay in the Cloud Recesses when you have nowhere else to be.”“I… I couldn’t possibly.”“I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t a possibility. My mother’s house would not be suitable, but my father’s…” His father’s house was burnt down and remains in ruins. It would be easy to erect a simple structure to house Wen Ning. “It’s secluded enough to provide you with some privacy. You should consider it.”Wen Ning’s lungs rattle. Sighing, Lan Xichen thinks, interpreting the man’s fidgeting as nervousness. What can he do to reassure him? Just when it doesn’t seem like Wen Ning is going to speak, he opens his mouth but is beaten to the punch. “I was… I was thinking about the festival,” Wen Ning says haltingly, echoing Lan Xichen’s own thoughts (much to his delight!). “The rain then was… not such a good thing.”“Not according to the legend, no,” he agrees, “But the rest of it was nice, wasn’t it? Yunmeng is known for holding the best celebrations. Are you planning on going to its mid-autumn festival too?”Again, the General hesitates. “I would stay here if allowed.”Lan Xichen could have smacked himself. “Of course you are.” (It’s a time meant for family.) “For A-Yuan?”“Mm-hmm.”He smiles, shuffling forwards to tend the fire. “Are you not cold, my friend?” he asks. Wen Ning shrugs. Maybe everything is probably cold in death. Lan Xichen doesn’t push for an answer. “You can still feel the rain though?” “...Yes.”“I miss it sometimes,” Lan Xichen confesses, stabbing a log to split it open. Embers burst from the blast of air. Like fireworks, he thinks, prodding till the flames settle down. “Walking through the rain, standing in it. There’s nothing so immersive as feeling every single drop of water.”Wen Ning makes a rough sound, which he takes to be a thoughtful noise. “I… I like it too.”“They say rain is a sign of good things to come, but when it rains this much, sometimes I do wonder…”It’s been raining for weeks.Wen Ning has curled himself into a ball and holds his muddy boots in his lap, which… Lan Xichen grabs another towel to wrap them up in. It makes him feel bad to think that he might still be making Wen Ning uncomfortable by being too forward, but what was he supposed to do? Leave the man hugging his boots? He wants to encourage him to talk, but doesn’t know how to put him at ease—“Sis… Sister once told me,” Wen Ning mumbles, ducking his head, “That the rain connects heaven to earth, bringing life from even the driest dirt and dust.”Lan Xichen nods, smiling to himself. “Thank the rain for the flowers.”“Mm,” Wen Ning nods. “Thank it, praise it. Even when we… even at the Burial Mounds, we found that some things were able to grow.”“Oh? What did you grow?”Again, Wen Ning’s breath stutters, but this time his ears pick out a strange rhythm. He’s… he’s laughing, isn’t he? “Not much,” he says, shoulders shaking, “But we—we grew really good radishes.”There must be a joke in here that he’s not getting, but Lan Xichen isn’t bothered. He smiles, glad that he’s relaxing enough to joke around. “It is said that even cursed bones wish to bring new life again,” he eventually says, vaguely quoting a passage he read—from a poem he was sent in the mail.In hindsight, it’s not perhaps the best thing he could have said. Radishes are delicious, would have been better.A flutter of panic verges on him as he considers how bad he is at speaking to anyone other than… other than the people who know him. Jingyi, Wangji and Sizhui are the easiest to speak with, but this… this man who is mostly a stranger to him is a real challenge to navigate. Even with Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen feels a little more at ease, having spent several months becoming better acquainted with him by now.He’s so out of practice that it’s quite embarrassing—“Cursed bones…” Wen Ning echoes. “That much is true. Cursed or not, these bones wish to live. Even if they cannot ever truly be alive.”Incredible. The man really doesn’t shy from the mention of his own condition. Lan Xichen’s hands unclench slowly. “You did not deserve the hand life dealt you.”“None of us did, but it is what we were given.” Wen Ning lifts his head. “My sister cried of happiness when I returned. Her joy remains in my heart. Even as she perished, she… she was…”“I’ve heard a great many things about your sister,” Lan Xichen says solemnly.That she was renowned for her healing abilities was a given, but he also saw her once when he was not yet a leader. Accompanying his uncle to the Discussion Conference, he spotted her scowling on the other side of the banquet hall, speaking to no one and leaving as soon as it was acceptable to do so. Only now does he realise she might have been eager to return to her brother, the same way he had been eager to return to his.“She must have cared for you greatly.”“It is for her sake that I go on. For as long as resentment sustains my life, I will live so that I can carry with me… all the stories of all the people I have ever met.”Resentful energy sustains fierce corpses. It’s the first lesson every cultivator is taught: that this energy comes from death, from suffering, from life itself. “How resentful are you?”Out loud it sounds like a silly question. What fierce corpse would have had a peaceful death? Even decades later, it’s likely Wen Ning’s resentment hasn’t receded.“It’s hard to say,” Wen Ning answers. “It’s too soon for me to tell. Young Master Wei doesn’t like to think about it either. Those years I spent in chains, I was not conscious of the time passing. For me, everything happened… not that long ago.”Does he mean when his family died?Lan Xichen’s throat tightens. Unable to stop himself, he reaches across.Thankfully Wen Ning doesn’t recoil when he grabs his hand. He'd have every right to—Lan Xichen was there at the siege, bloodying his hands the same as everyone else. Wen Ning's lungs rattle, and being closer now, he can hear the air escaping from somewhere. It’s then that he remembers the large hole punched through Wen Ning’s chest.How much longer can his long-dead body endure? He might not feel pain, but throwing himself into things all the time like he tends to do. One day his body might be completely destroyed, and then what?“The life I have now is… better than expected. I am free. I am not alone.” Wen Ning squeezes his hand a touch too strongly and then releases it. “A-Yuan has grown well. A-Yuan is alive,” Colourless eyes turn to him, “Thanks to you.”“It wasn’t me,” Lan Xichen insists. “WangJi and Young Master Wei—”“It tells me a lot that he worries about you so much. The way he talks about you tells me that he cares.”“…”“He has a good life here,” Wen Ning says, rising slowly, “One which I am grateful for. You asked what I feel before, and what I feel… it gives me joy to see him thriving. Do you think… that with joy being the opposite of sorrow, one day my happiness will undo my resentment?”And then what? The question returns, evoking some strange feeling inside him. If a fierce corpse is no longer resentful, what happens to them next?“Who knows?” he answers (Did he ask that aloud?!) “If that were to happen, then that which is making my life full today will destroy me tomorrow. The resentment this body contains will not last forever, nor will I.”Wen Ning says this with absolute calm—no anger, no fear, no regret.“One day if it happens... I will lie down having lived a good life and I will not rise again. To die of happiness is not such a bad thing, don’t you think?”Helplessly, Lan Xichen nods. Wen Ning goes to the canvas he asked the juniors to bring over.He touches the cloth cover. “May I?”Again, he nods. What else can he do? Loose, pale scribbles scatter messily across the paper. It makes Lan Xichen’s teeth grind every time he looks at it. Too long not painting and now his hands fail him at every turn. It’s impossible to make out what it’s supposed to be. Only Lan Xichen knows.The noise Wen Ning makes is far too polite. “Is it—”“A gift. Still… still in progress.”“Ah.” Wen Ning nods sagely. He meets Lan Xichen’s bewildered gaze. “Then, from the water of your ink, bring life to the painting.”With that bizarre (blessing?) statement given, he arranges the cloth back over the canvas, bows in respect to Lan Xichen, and goes to grab his cloak. Lan Xichen watches him leave the hanshi to walk out into the rain, hands twitching until they reach for his brush. Suddenly they become as steady as a rock.From the water of your ink, bring life to the painting. There are few phrases that would lend more inspiration than that. His mind conjures an image that spills from his brush of a split-second moment that he cannot forget but also couldn’t quite remember. The details were blurry—they’re still indistinct, but Lan Xichen loses himself to painting. Forget colour, forget the dazzling glow of pink light, forget the lambent blue of the water. What matters is at the centre. The small figure that he traces carefully, their silhouette distinct in stark black-and-white. With water, he spreads different tones to convey the movement of clothes and limbs. Quick strokes denote the strike of the whip, the curve of a smiling mouth.No painting would do that justice. It still doesn’t, but he would pay tribute...Knock knock.Lan Xichen blinks out of his trance, ink on his hands and glinting wet on the paper. He glances up. Wen Ning has not returned. The knock was not familiar, but this visitor cannot be a threat. Although… it did sound like they might be trying to kick down the door.Knock knock knock—
Crash.
In truth, the past few weeks they have been laying low. Not really doing much. Lazing about (at least, he has), and taking it easy. There is an art to hunting. Wei Wuxian learnt it very young.Before learning anything about ghosts or corpses, when there was no food to be found on the streets, he’d hunt things in the forests. When he was too hungry he’d go for the easier things. Sad to say, he often chose rabbits. When it comes to larger prey though, he learnt to stalk them to their dens. He learnt how to hold off his hunger and wait, wait, wait.Patience was key. Startling off a good catch was the worst thing. Worse than his empty belly was his anger at losing to his own impatience.It was the same here, in theory at least. The investigation remained under wraps, but with Nie Huaisang doing his part, soon it would spread that they were looking for beggars and searching for a culprit. The two might not be related, but panicked minds could make the strangest of things seem interconnected, and then they’d be spooked, and their catch lost.They decided to let the mud settle. Spend a few weeks in the Unclean Realm and the towns surrounding it, let the locals get used to seeing their faces. They (Wei Wuxian) bought trinkets, drank copiously, laughed loudly. Basically, they made themselves known to be tourists. So now that no one’s too shocked to see them. Everyone’s guards lowered and tongues loosened—the time is ripe!Wei Wuxian tilts his head back, letting his husband tie his hair into his customary high-pony. Though it’s been fun, he’s been dying to get back to work, and the speed at which Lan Zhan tidies him up and packs up their things tells him he’s not alone.(He’s never alone anymore.)Wei Wuxian smiles. “That intel though, it’s almost too much of a coincidence.”Nie Huaisang’s letter came the previous evening.He gave a rundown of the several leads only resulting in a loss of money (on his end) and broken trust (on theirs). A few mentioned noticing new faces that matched their descriptions, with the strange habit of drunkenness being a common feature of those notable people. News of an old man wandering about on a donkey immediately caught their attention though—that first intruder!It could be a coincidence, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t. “Worth checking,” Lan Zhan says, tucking the qiankun pouch into his sleeve.They leave, heading towards the border of Lanling. The old man was seen a couple of days ago, and according to the reports he was seen travelling in this direction. It could be too late, but they have speed on their side.Wei Wuxian hasn’t tried flying with his new sword yet, but should he need to, he will. Its newness makes him excited for that maiden flight, though he misses Suibian’s familiarity. New things, new adventure. His heart leaps with every time he catches Lan Zhan's eye. When he can’t stand it any longer, he darts out to grab his hand, but at that moment—“Young master?”Oh, this is too much of a coincidence now. Could this be the group’s watch-dog? (A watch-dog? Wei Wuxian thinks, stifling a wince.) “Lan'er,” he greets, eyeing the youth. “My friend, it must be a small road we’re walking on to bump into each other again.”“Indeed,” A-Lan agrees, frowning slightly. So they’re suspicious of them too? Interesting.“And what might you be doing on this fine day?” A-Lan eyes the grey sky dubiously. “Looking for Grandpa.”“Grandpa again, huh? Seems like that Grandpa of yours is pretty hard to find.”“He’s a wandering medicine-man,” A-Lan says defensively. “There are a lot of sick people around. Too many to help. He has to go anywhere.”Wei Wuxian laughs, clapping his hands. “True, very true. The work is never done.”“So why are you here?”He spreads his arms out. “It’s a road, isn’t it? We’re allowed to walk here, aren’t we?” Behind him, Lan Zhan doesn’t move a muscle, but he can sense a reluctance building in him. Wariness about this kid who seems to be wary about them. (Dual cultivation is definitely doing wonders for keeping them on the same wavelength!) “We’re looking for an old friend.”“Looking for someone too, eh?” A-Lan sticks out their chin. “Having trouble?"Wei Wuxian laughs again, this time coming a little less forced. Even if he’s suspicious, this kid doesn’t seem like a threat. Nie Huaisang couldn’t confirm if they were part of the Beggars’ Sect, which doesn’t rule him out of course, but… but he sort of hopes they aren’t. “Where are you heading to then, friend?”A-Lan seems to have also let down their guard too. He points towards the Unclean Realm (back where they came from, incidentally). “He tends to work a lot there. Lots of monsters tend to cause trouble for the villagers.”“Ah, what a coincidence! Lan Zhan, we were headed that way too, right?”Lan Zhan grunts and A-Lan narrows their eyes. “You were walking that way.” “We were, and then we found a friend in need, and now we want to help them find this elusive Grandpa of theirs,” Wei Wuxian says, throwing an arm around A-Lan’s shoulders. They stagger under his weight, scowling a little. Come to think of it, they sort of remind him of the juniors… “My friend, you’ve completely enthralled us with this wandering medicine-man Grandpa you speak of. Let us help you. Lan Zhan is interested in buying some medicines.”“Is somebody sick?” If it weren’t for the fact that this was a common question to ask regarding doctors and medicines, Wei Wuxian would have thought this even more strange. Lan Zhan hums—a completely neutral, unreadable answer. A-Lan rolls their eyes, but then they head off together.Coincidence after coincidence. They arrive back at the same town they vacated a couple of days ago, and as soon as they arrive A-Lan heads for the market square, ducking and dodging around people in such a way that it’s obvious he is familiar with these streets. Within seconds they lose him, but after pacing around a while, a shout alerts them to a crowd that is growing. People are converging towards the centre, angry shouts, laughter and jeering. They share a glance, and then each hurry to the front of the line. To their surprise, it isn’t A-Lan everyone is laughing at, but an old man swinging around a stick—actually, it’s not even him they’re laughing at, but the one he’s beating up singlehandedly!“Whoa, look at him go!” Wei Wuxian lets out a whistle. Though the old man looks like he could be snapped like a twig, he sends the two he’s brawling with flying! The crowd roars with excitement, but the old man growls, shoving aside the people trying to congratulate him. As the crowd eventually disperses, losing enthusiasm under the old man’s less-than-pleasant demeanour, A-Lan comes into view. A tall man has them in a headlock and is laughing at their struggling.The old man must be this ‘Grandpa’ A-Lan was speaking of. This other man, however, he’s not too sure about, but seems to be… friends with them?“Oi, Lao Li[1]!” the man yells, dragging the squirming A-Lan along with him. “Where’s that poor bastard? You kept him out of the scuffle, right?”“Will you shut up?” the old man grumbles, limping across the street. “I didn’t even ask for your help!”At first, he wonders if he’s been injured, but the limp seems to be old or perhaps a product of his age, since he had no trouble fighting with it. Lan Zhan lets out a little puff of air when they see who Lao Li is walking towards—a cripple who is rolling around on the street corner. Lao Li hums, and is about to reach for one of his gourds when one of his previous attackers leaps out of the shadows!Without missing a beat, he strikes out with his walking stick. Smack! The force of the blow cracks the ground! The man (a teenager, really) managed to dodge, but before he can escape—“Asshole!”The unnamed man whips out his own weapon: a long wooden staff. He twirls it around like a baton, barely brushing the youth with it, but still sending him spinning. Wei Wuxian laughs in delight—this is great! People are already looking again with interest, but the young man makes quick work of the (surprisingly committed) assailants, mostly smacking them down on their asses and laughing as their faces contort with pain.“That’s enough!” Lao Li yells. After helping the cripple take the medicine, he uses his walking stick to prod the young man in the back. “You brute! You should know better than to get involved!”“Yeah boss, you should know better,” A-Lan sing-songs, dodging a kick.Boss? So this is their boss? Wei Wuxian gives him a closer look. He appears rather young, with the lean stretched limbs of adolescence. Dressed in similar rags to the others, the only difference is the cloth scarf tied around his head and the thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. Marks of royalty amongst the beggars, perhaps?“I suppose this is more of a health problem than one of evil spirits,” their boss muses, crouching down to look at the patient. He throws Lao Li a crooked smirk, “But admit it! You needed my help. Bow down and thank me for my assistance!”“Dream on!” Lao Li scoffs. “Do you need to be taught a lesson, or does your head still hurt from the last time I gave you an earful? Don’t assume I’m above punishing you—!”A-Lan, “Ah Grandpa, calm down…”“Who are you calling grandpa?!”Finally, Wei Wuxian cannot stand it any longer. He marches across, slowing his footsteps and throwing up his hands when the three of them swerve around, wielding various questionable weapons (the basket again, A-Lan? Really?). “Peace, peace. I just have a few questions for the young master over there.”The young man stares at him for a moment, eyes twinkling with a strange kind of mischief. He grins back, though his skin prickles slightly. Does he know him? “Yiling Laozu,” the man says, dipping his chin in a small bow. Well… that answers that. “Am I that recognisable?” he asks, amused. With one hand, he reaches behind to pat Lan Zhan reassuringly. The poor man has gone stiff with alertness.“A-Lan has spoken of you before. You and your partner over there.” He raises his head towards Lan Zhan with a considerable amount of respect, pleasing yet also rubbing Wei Wuxian the wrong way. “I’d have to be blind to not recognise you. The people here talk about you often.”“…”In a way, laying low and also trying to make the locals used to their presence was never going to work. He knew there was that risk. Pretending to be tourists only works for so long after all. He had hoped it might work for longer, but… oh well. “Are you also a cultivator, young master?” he asks, aiming for the same pleasant tone he’s learnt from Lan Xichen. The fighting style he used was mostly martial moves, but with some underlying power. The man laughs. “You can call me boss[2] too, if you want, though I also go by Kōng.”That… didn’t answer his question.All this evasiveness has him feeling itchy, and like anyone who has been studying martial arts for decades, that translates into wanting to test this man’s skills. He was so quick to act, able to fight with just a wooden stick, and barely used any spiritual energy! How intriguing! As if sensing this, Lan Zhan’s hand materialises on his back, and Wei Wuxian can practically sense his lips sealing shut from the warning.He can’t help but wonder though, is Kong truly not part of the renowned Beggars’ Sect? His skills are too remarkable. Even Lao Li’s little display before was brimming with hidden promise. A-Lan hasn’t proven themselves much, but... all of this must add up to something. “I can see the cogs turning in your mind, Wei-gongzi,” Kong chuckles, giving him an oddly assessing look. Wei Wuxian's smile freezes. It’s that same feeling he got with the flautist that night. Being spoken to in that same tone, having the sinking feeling that he knows this Kong, or worse yet… that Kong knows him. If he is a victim from his time as Yiling Laozu, then… what if he wants revenge? He isn’t afraid. With Lan Zhan or without, he will gladly accept any judgement headed his way—“Oh relax,” Kong sighs, sprawling out with a pleased groan. “No one here is your enemy. It’s just easy to spot a thinker and admire their form. Just like you admired my fighting technique, it’s a pleasure seeing you work.”Same feeling. Same feeling! “I hope you aren’t asking me to perform anything. I’m no street entertainer.”To Wei Wuxian’s surprise, a gust of cool air fills the space behind him. He turns to find Lan Zhan has wandered over to stand by Lao Li, who is digging through his bag for something. A-Lan sidles over, giving Kong a wide berth to reach his side. “Wei-gongzi, it isn’t that," they hiss. "Boss really means it when he says he admires you.”In what way does he admire him though? The main thing he’s known for is demonic cultivation. Like a stain, it is his greatest pride and shame.It’s both a previous life, but also a life he still lives. Detached from the necessity of that darkened path, but Wei Wuxian finds himself strangely reluctant to let go of it. It saved him. It damned him. It changed him irreversibly. Even now he will use Chenqing to control corpses, tame wild spirits and summon ghosts. It’s a chaotic blend of techniques he uses nowadays. A mixed bag of tricks he depends on for his trade.But he can’t even use Suibian, for god’s sakes. Even with a new core, he’s not deemed worthy. Why would anyone admire him?Not knowing what to say, for once… he walks back to his husband, who has knelt by the medicine-man and is unwrapping a bundle of equipment the old man has asked him to unpack. Lao Li is trying to coax the cripple to drink another tonic, but the man appears to be confused. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he wails, shrinking away.“This is for your own good,” Lao Li says, lunging forwards to grab the man’s jaw. He lets out a yelp, but then his mouth is held open. “Don’t bite. This tonic heals those who need healing. Whatever ails you, my friend. Whether it’s your mind that needs peace, or your heart a lessening of sorrow. If you don't require any further help, then no matter—it will do no harm, and tastes as good as wine…”This rather violent method has both of them feeling uneasy just watching, but if Lao Li is telling the truth then he means him no harm. If he fought those people before just to be able to heal this man, then why would he try poisoning him now? Wei Wuxian leans a hand on Lan Zhan’s shoulder, squeezing gently till he feels the muscles there loosen. “You use qi,” Lan Zhan observes, watching Lao Li roll the man onto his back.His head lolls. Was that actual wine then? A trick to get him to become more complaisant? Wei Wuxian picks up the discarded gourd and sniffs it. It’s… it’s the same wine that that intruder left behind! He quickly shoves it into his sleeve, turning his attention back to Lao Li, who is channelling some energy into the man’s qi points. “He doesn’t need it really, but he’s malnourished and frightened. A clearer mind will aid in the healing,” Lao Li explains, using a surprisingly even tone with Lan Zhan. Of course he would. “Of course, this is temporary, but he deserves some peace after all that he’s been through.”“It absorbs well,” Lan Zhan says, eyes trained on the current of energy sinking into the unconscious man’s dantian. He glows faintly by the end of the transfusion. Suddenly Wei Wuxian knows why he’s so interested. He pulls out the gourd again, sniffs it, and then with a quick mental apology to his husband, gulps down a sip… it is the same wine! Even though he was sure before, this confirms it.He eyes Lao Li then, wondering how he might be involved with that other old man, and what it all means. But if he’s here healing cripples, and fighting in their defence… he hardly sounds like a villainous character. What would he stand to gain from doing any of these charitable acts? If anything, he should be commended for his virtue.(And possibly… be assumed to be trustworthy?)“Lao-zhongyi[3], I know a person who requires treatment.” Lan Zhan would never ask if he did not feel there was a chance of success. Seeing this, Wei Wuxian comes to crouch beside him.“Have they not undergone any treatment?”Wei Wuxian, “Many kinds. All kinds. Nothing seems to work.”Lao Li’s mouth twists. He continues cleaning the cripple’s wounds. “Some illnesses have no cure, young master. Describe to me the symptoms. Explain what has been done.”After giving a thorough account, he doesn’t look very convinced. Lan Zhan is staring at him though, and suddenly Wei Wuxian wishes Lan Xichen were here to explain to him what he is thinking. Even knowing him as well as he does now, it will take years to be as able to read him as his brother is.“Will you come to Gusu?” The question echoes one he only vaguely recalls. Lan Xichen told him Lan Zhan asked him this many years ago (at the Nightless City, he thinks sadly). It tugs at his heart hearing him sound this plaintive. Was this how he asked him to return? How could he have refused him back then?“Gusu,” Lao Li murmurs. “That’s a long way from here. What good will examining him do if all these other people have already done so?”“Maybe you’ll notice something different?” Wei Wuxian suggests.“Unlikely. If the healers in the Lan Sect saw nothing, then there’s nothing. If Nie Sect’s healers saw nothing, then it surely isn’t qi deviation. I have the feeling you won’t like what I’m about to say, but from what you’re telling me, the answers probably can’t be found anywhere on this Earth. You could turn over every rock, search through every city, and not find an answer.”Lan Zhan stands abruptly, nearly toppling him over. Wei Wuxian scrambles up too, dusting off his knees. When he grabs his husband’s arm, it’s with a shock that he realises that he’s trembling!“I told you before,” Lao Li says, gentle despite his roughened voice. “For some illnesses, there is no cure.” He digs into his bag again. “If you’re interested though, I have some herbs that can help with the pain, and provide him with some comfort. It can ease his passing—”“Lan Zhan? Hey, Lan Zhan!”He’s already across the street, striding away without a backward glance. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to say to Lao Li, even though a part of him is… is what? Not grateful, but he was sort of expecting this answer, and not having to be the one to break the bad news is a weight off his shoulders. He wants to be the one to raise Lan Zhan’s spirits, not dash his hopes like this.“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Lao Li asks, an unusually fond smile gracing his wrinkled face for a split second.He startles, but then realises Lan Zhan’s figure has grown small in the distance but stopped. He’s waiting for him. He’ll never leave him. And he… he has a husband to comfort. “I am,” he agrees breathlessly, barely sparing him a look as he runs. Lan Zhan doesn’t back down when he arrives, and standing next to him—it’s easy to see what others mean when they say he has a cold temperament. Frosty with anger, a cold gaze, his displeasure akin to a chill tickling the hairs on your skin. Underneath it all though, it’s clear that Lan Zhan is just very badly shaken by what was said.Wei Wuxian takes it all in his stride, grasping his ice prince's hands and squeezing them tightly.The icy veneer vanishes. Soon Lan Zhan is blinking at him through reddened eyes. It’s not often that he lets him be the one to shoulder their burdens, but Wei Wuxian relishes the chance to share some of the load. “What do you want to do, Lan Zhan? We came looking for that old man, but now I think we could head back if you want. I think this trail has hit a dead end.”“…”“We can regroup with the others. Check with Huaisang. Maybe it’s something else.” It’s not common for illnesses to have such a severe effect on cultivators. He’s clinging onto this fact, hoping it will narrow down the possibilities. “We aren’t giving up, Lan Zhan. I promised you that. Say something. Tell me what you want.”Lan Zhan sucks in a slow, shaky breath. “I… Wei Ying.”He nods, understanding him completely. “Alright Lan Zhan, let’s go home.” If the Lan’s have incredible arm strength, is it possible that the Jiang’s have superior leg strength? This is the second time Lan Xichen has seen Jiang Cheng kick down a door. Again with the dramatics—with the rain gusting sideways and the darkening sky behind him, he cuts a striking figure. Jiang Cheng is even carrying a similar paper umbrella to the one he brought to Guanyin Temple. The only difference here is that there’s no purple lightning.(Lan Xichen is a bit surprised to find that he sort of... misses the purple lightning.)“Fuck.” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath, probably hoping not to be heard. He props the umbrella against the wall and bends down to pick up the door. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. It’s just… cold out there. My joints went stiff.”“It is getting closer to winter,” Lan Xichen agrees, unable to stop himself from smiling, even as Jiang Cheng treks mud into the room.Outside Wen Ning’s silhouette is just visible over his shoulder. He likes the rain, Lan Xichen reminds himself, and also reasons that there would be a lot of tension if both Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng were in such close quarters. He isn’t sure how they managed to get along during the festival but knows they’re still not exactly comfortable around each other.“It’s autumn." Jiang Cheng huffs, wedging the door into place. "Autumn means plants dying, things getting chilly, harvests coming in—not nearly losing my damn nose to frostbite!”“I think you might be exaggerating, my friend. You aren’t that delicate.” Even so, he ushers Jiang Cheng closer to the fire and drops a towel over his shoulders. He will run out of them at this rate. Jiang Cheng is more cold than wet, so he swaps his cloak for a thick blanket. It tends to be warmer in Yunmeng, so it’s no wonder he’s finding it chilly. The sun beats down hotter there, with fewer mists to contend with.One might have thought the higher altitudes in Gusu would mean the sun was closer and therefore hotter, but their contrasting skin tones tell a different story. Jiang Cheng lets him fuss without complaint, his expression wavering between amused and baffled.Lan Xichen bustles over to the kitchen, his heart nearly stopping when Jiang Cheng lingers too long in front of the covered canvas. There’s nothing to see yet, but he calls out, “Tea?” and hopes his voice doesn’t come off as too eager.The man goes to sit at the table without preamble, grunting affirmatively. He should have known—Jiang Cheng is too strict about manners to go digging around in someone else’s things. What was he worrying over?“I apologise for dropping by unannounced.”“No need. Why do you think I gave you a jade token?” Lan Xichen brings over the cups. “You’re always welcome in Gusu.” The steam colours Jiang Cheng’s cheeks pink, and he murmurs a thank you. “Though I might ask, was there any reason for you coming?”“Not really. Just visiting.” Clipped sentences, averted eyes. Lan Xichen hides a smile behind his sleeve, watching the pink creep over Jiang Cheng’s nose and cheekbones. No one would believe him if he told them that Sandu Shengshou could be so awkward. Awkward and shy.It’s actually quite endearing.“In which case, it’s perfect timing,” he says, eyes curving happily when Jiang Cheng shifts his gaze. “I’m just... it's nice to see you again...” Immediately eye contact is lost. Oh dear, it seems like the shyness might actually be contagious!Lan Xichen feels heat rush to his face and does his best to ignore it—valiantly smiling as best he can. Luckily for him, Jiang Cheng is too busy dealing with his own awkwardness to pay Lan Xichen any mind. Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “You’re looking well,” he says, without looking at him at all.That’s when Lan Xichen’s smile begins to crack. His “Thank you,” has Jiang Cheng actually glancing up with a frown.“I mean it,” he insists, eyes trailing over his face. Lan Xichen finds the scrutiny rather overwhelming, his smile twisting into more of a grimace. “I don’t know why you’re pulling that face, but you look a lot better rested than when I last saw you.”Oh.“The dead would look better rested than I was back then.”Jiang Cheng grins. “Hangovers definitely aren’t any fun, but hey—you survived it. How long did that take?”“A couple of days,” he admits, smiling ruefully when Jiang Cheng snickers. “Jingyi suffered worse.”“Hah, did he?” Jiang Cheng rubs his face. “Well, I apologise again for the alcohol. I hope it didn’t ruin things too much for you.”“Oh, not at all. I had a really good time,” he says, lacing his fingers together.The motion draws Jiang Cheng’s attention, which then drops down to the table, to the—ah. To the painting. Jiang Cheng’s mouth slackens a little.“In fact I… I can’t stop thinking about that night. The festival too. All of what happened.” Lan Xichen pushes the paper across, though bizarrely enough, he almost wants to hide it. “If all Qixi festivals are like that, I’m afraid to tell you that there’s no chance they won’t be made to stay.”“I forgot to ask, what did you end up doing while I was out with the juniors?” Jiang Cheng picks up the painting slowly, his expression completely unreadable. “Did my staff behave themselves, or do I need to discipline them?”Lan Xichen laughs, relieved by the deflection. “Your staff were lovely. I didn’t really do much though. I had a nice meal, during which, that granny…” (Oh. Suddenly he realises this could be an opportunity to check something and watch Jiang Cheng for a reaction.) “That granny told me a story. A story about you, in fact.”“Hmph. What did you eat?”“…”Jiang Cheng throws him a look. “What?”“Soup.”Funnily enough, that is what gets him a reaction. The paper falls from Jiang Cheng’s limp fingers. His mouth opens and closes a few times. “You ate soup?”It’s only then that Lan Xichen recalls (and considers the fact that) that maid and Sisi had been complaining about their master leaving the kitchens in a mess. So that would mean that Jiang Cheng was the one who... “Yes, soup,” he blurts out, licking his lips, as though to remember the taste. Whilst Jiang Cheng appears to be processing this information, out of nowhere he hears a young voice exclaim, ‘It’s the best! No one can make soup like she can!’ and he wonders… oh, he wonders.“It was the best soup I’ve ever had,” Lan Xichen admits, a fondness bubbling up inside him when Jiang Cheng turns disbelieving (and hopeful) eyes towards him. How can the colour blue appear so warm? Those eyes (that scowl!) really haven’t changed in all these years. He finds that oddly comforting. Jiang Cheng looks a little lost for words. Then he asks, “What story did Granny tell you?”Of course, he didn’t forget.“A story about you,” Lan Xichen repeats, that bubble of warmth growing in his chest. “About your childhood—”“Nonsense.” “…”“No one save for that imbecile Wei Wuxian knows anything about my childhood,” Jiang Cheng says dismissively. “She must have been mistaken.”But... it was you, Lan Xichen wants to say, except now he doesn’t know whether he should. He’s struck by the thought that Jiang Cheng really believes that, when that old woman spoke so fondly and with so much familiarity about his youth. He'd said she was senile, but if Lan Xichen can confirm that memory too… then it's one against two. Is Jiang Cheng lying, or does he genuinely not remember?“She wasn’t,” Lan Xichen says. “It was you.”“What was me?”“The little boy who ran away. Who got lost in the mountains, and came back talking about fairies…” Lan Xichen grips his knees when Jiang Cheng huffs out a breath. “It was you,” he repeats, a little helplessly.Jiang Cheng scowls. “Then why don’t I remember such a thing happening? She's probably thinking of someone else.”“How can you be so sure?”“How? Because anyone who ever knew me back then is dead now. No one alive remembers me. Not that there's much to remember.”“That granny said you would come to the paddy fields every summer with your sister. Your mother would go with you to oversee your work.”Jiang Cheng looks mildly surprised. Then he drops his gaze. “Well... she might remember that, but I’ll tell you now—that story is utter bullshit.”“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Lan Xichen says earnestly. “It was a nice story. I liked it very much.”“Fairies,” Jiang Cheng sneers, narrowing his eyes with distaste. “Do I need to swear you to secrecy, Lan Xichen, or are you smart enough to hold your tongue?”Lan Xichen grins, holding a hand to his heart.“I solemnly swear to tell no one about the fairies.” Jiang Cheng harrumphs, crossing his arms and basically sulking. It takes all Lan Xichen’s willpower not to laugh at him right then. He dulls the urge with another question. “But you really think no one remembers what you were like?” Jiang Cheng shoots him a questioning look. He elaborates: “If Granny was right, then she must. Why deny it? What is there to be ashamed of?”He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, before answering:“If there was anyone you could ask who could tell you what I was like as a child, the word they would choose would probably be… unremarkable.” Jiang Cheng’s mouth twists. “I was a good kid, they’d say. Obedient, hard-working, respectful, all of that. But only when Wei Wuxian wasn’t around. Once he walked in, it was like I’d cease to exist. The only reason why I agree that it’s possible Granny remembers me is because she never knew Wei Wuxian.” Lan Xichen blinks a few times.With each blink, he pictures it: Jiang Cheng’s round face, lips scrunched up in a small moue, and eyes blazed with a raging fire. Even as an infant, he’d been—for lack of a better word: intense. The farthest thing from forgettable. Fierce, bright, passionate. He’d been an ember, leaping at every opportunity. He can't understand it. How could anyone possibly forget someone like him?But then he thinks, what a hypocrite he is. Was he not one of those people until only recently?“If you don’t believe me, my own mother never had anything to say about my childhood. My sister said I was born a ‘little old man’.” He smirks grimly. “As for my father, well… he’s never noticed me at any age. You don’t have to keep making that face, you know. That’s just how things were. I'm not bothered by it,” Jiang Cheng tells him, and from his tone and expression, he appears to be telling the truth.But Lan Xichen can also sense disappointment there, which he isn’t surprised by in the least. “Wanyin doesn’t seem to think much of himself either,” he observes quietly. Jiang Cheng laughs bitterly at this. “Isn’t humility seen as a virtue? Why do you seem so displeased by this notion?”“Because I am,” he bursts out, slamming into the table. "That you think so little of yourself is... is...""This is really upsetting you, isn't it?" Jiang Cheng sounds perplexed. "Why is that?"The ink brush rolls across to Jiang Cheng’s side. Lan Xichen balks, watching the ink spatter all over the table. Jiang Cheng merely raises his brows. “It's just disappointing. A person's childhood is something that should be cherished.”Jiang Cheng picks up the brush and goes to hook it onto the stand.“Maybe for some. What is it about my childhood that has you so interested though? It’s almost as if you…” his hand hovers then, the brush hangs loosely in his fingers. He darts a glance at Lan Xichen, quick as a blink. “But no, you couldn't. That—it was a long time ago. The memories people think they remember are distorted and idealistic. They're as good as dreams, for all that they're real. Whoever I was before… that person isn’t me anymore.”“Maybe they are,” Lan Xichen says, wiping the ink with a spare rag. “Maybe you just can’t see that for yourself.”Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “Whatever she told you, I want you to forget it.”The rag stops. Everything stops. Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem to notice, but Lan Xichen has actually stopped breathing. “I beg your pardon?”“That story. Whatever Granny told you. It’s not something I want you to think of when you look at me. Please try to forget it.”Lan Xichen is aghast. “But why?”Is this truly something he is so ashamed of that he would deny him—“Because I say so! Because I have the right to ask that of you,” Jiang Cheng snaps. (He said that aloud? Lan Xichen cringes.) “If you have any consideration for my peace of mind, you will accept that—that most things I'm ashamed of, whether I need to be or not. Maybe it's to make up for Wei Wuxian's thick face that I cannot look at the past without cringing, so I would rather if you just forgot about them. Whether there is a reasonable explanation for it or not, it shouldn’t even matter!”“Okay, if… if that’s what you want.”“It is,” Jiang Cheng nods, biting his lip. “Thank you. I... I’ll tell you something that might help you understand my reasoning. I suppose you deserve that much. The truth is my mother did use to tell me something. In fact, she told me about it many... many times.”He heaves a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.“On my first birthday celebration[4], when I was presented with the items, I refused to choose anything. She told me that I crawled into her lap, and all I did was keep crying for A-Die. Both of them were embarrassed, to say the least. To have a son with no talent, no ambition... that he chose nothing, that he had nothing written into his future… superstition or not, she made it clear I began life with low expectations.”(But didn't you choose? Lan Xichen thinks. Though it was perhaps not what most would consider a choice. Instead of trinkets, promises of good fortune and wealth—he chose his family, did he not?)“These are the types of memories I have,” he says softly. “Being unremarkable or not being good enough. Not the sort of things I like to remember.”“Wanyin, do you ever just… consider yourself without any regard to others?” He hesitates, but then adds: “It is sometimes said that comparison is the death of joy.”Blue eyes cut towards him. “What do you mean by that?”“Without comparing yourself to others, you might not have such a distorted view. You disregard all of your achievements. You forget that you are a fine leader, a strong cultivator, a good person. Your disciples admire you, your nephew follows you… why base your self-worth on other’s accounts, when it’s obvious their opinions don’t truly reflect the person you are?”“Without comparing myself to others, what value would my achievements hold? Competition is what life is all about, Lan Xichen. It’s how the world works. The weak perish, the strong survive; the ordinary is forgotten, the extraordinary isn't.”He is a candle to the vastness of this night. No small word of his has the power to sway this man’s mind. It’s clear that Jiang Cheng’s opinions are absolute, born from the moment he was made to doubt his worth, and grown into an unshakeable belief. “Why don’t you just come out and say it? Everyone else does. I’m jealous, resentful. A bitter old man, whose face is so thin… whose heart is so fragile, that he blames everyone for his own failures. Admit it. That’s what you think too.”
(I know that everyone expects the worst from me, but I had hoped you might be different!)
“That’s not what I think at all.”“It’s easy for people like you to not bother comparing yourself to others,” Jiang Cheng continues. “Who could compare to you? You’re already peerless in every way. So high above the rest, that you can’t possibly understand the struggle to be seen—”“But I do see you. Others do as well,” Lan Xichen argues. “I think the only one who cannot see you is yourself.” Jiang Cheng pushes away from the table then, striding across to the other side of the room, his shoulders hunched. The swiftness of his movements reminds Lan Xichen of a gust of wind, leaving a chill in the space left behind. Away from the fire, Jiang Cheng’s figure becomes a smudge in the dark. When he turns, the sharp line of his jaw glows golden from the flames.“Tell me then, what do you see?” There is too much hinging on his reply. Lan Xichen would have bowed under the pressure if it weren’t for the answer coming to him without any thought. “I see a man who holds himself to an impossible standard. Who has concentrated so much on putting one foot in front of the other, that he cannot appreciate the great distances he’s crossed.”“An impossible standard… of course, you’re right. It’s exactly that,” Jiang Cheng nods. “There’s no one who embodies our motto quite like him.”
Him?
He could kick Jiang Cheng. Had he the power to, he would have silenced him with a spell to prevent him from speaking such nonsense! “It... it’s not Young Master Wei I’m talking about—”“Who else would you be talking about? Everyone knows he’s the one I measure myself against. The things he’s managed to do in his lifetime span far greater distances, and he was dead for thirteen years! Even when the people spurned him, they would say what a promising youth he’d been. His great fall came from a great height. "Now that the truth is out, his goodness clearly outweighs his sins, whereas the one good thing I ever did was—”Jiang Cheng turns away.…was what? Raise Jin Ling? Rebuild Lotus Pier?Jiang Cheng wouldn’t hesitate to say either of those things.To stop here and say nothing… this must be another thing he wants to hide. To leave forgotten. To overlook. Lan Xichen holds his breath, his doubts growing the longer the silence stretches out. When Jiang Cheng lets out a sudden bark of laughter, his heart leaps to his throat. You don’t need to know the language of music to hear the self-loathing in that sound.“What are we doing here, Lan Xichen? I came here to talk to you. To have a nice time, maybe paint a little with you.” Jiang Cheng turns, his face a blank mask; his eyes two burning coals in his face. “So why is it that every time I come here, instead of doing that, we seem to dive deep into the darkest of places?”It's a good question. One which he has no real answer for. “We can talk about something else if you want,” he offers, though he knows it will be rejected. Jiang Cheng's lips thin together. “If you promise not to treat me differently, I’ll tell you what happened.”“You don’t have to.”“Backing out now? Your face says you’re interested,” Jiang Cheng taunts, lips flicking up at the corners. “You want to know, and who else would I talk to about these things? I’m beginning to think that there’s no one but you who would care to listen.”(He wants to talk. Lan Xichen is shocked. Is flattered. Is awed.)“I swear to keep whatever you say a secret.”“That’s not what I asked for. That’s not what I need.” Jiang Cheng exhales heavily, runs both hands over his face. “Promise not to treat me differently. Promise you won’t change the way you look at me.”Lan Xichen nods, unable to look away. “I promise.”“It’s an old scar. An old wound, but sometimes it still…” Jiang Cheng drags a hand over his chest, fingers hooked like talons. Could it be a dark creature that wounded him? But what would that have to do with Wei Wuxian? The one good thing I ever did was… “What type of thing would Jiang Cheng consider to be ‘good’?” he muses aloud, gently nudging the man out of his trance-like state. “Tell me, what did you do?”Jiang Cheng blinks, and then his voice goes flat and hoarse.With a blandness better suited to giving financial reports... with one hand curved over his sternum, he tells him how he lost his core—or rather, why he lost it. It was on a whim, he says, I wasn’t thinking—but whether he was or wasn’t, he'd made that choice. That makes a difference that he doesn’t seem to comprehend.Lan Xichen can feel the blood draining from his face with each recollection, with each confession pouring out in a dizzying stream. He was only seventeen, is all he can think. Barely a man. Not yet a Sect Leader. Recently orphaned. Only seventeen.“How long were you there for?”“Don’t know. Can’t remember.”He’s sunk to his knees by this point. A distance away, clutching at his heart.“A few days, probably. It felt like years. They beat me up, I kept passing out. I'd wake up finding my bones still broken, my body still bruised… the last time I woke up, they said to me: ‘When we find your sister, it’s over for you. She’ll be dead, and then you’ll be the only one left. The only Jiang, last of your blood.’" Shaking his head, "I didn’t understand what they meant at the time, but before I could ask, they—” he mimes lashing something.A whip, aimed at his chest. A whip? Lan Xichen’s mind stutters. An old scar. An old wound. Jiang Cheng traces a line across himself, bisecting his whole torso all the way down to his hip. It’s long. Very long.“Wen Chao used it. My family's own...” he says.Each Sect has their own Discipline whip. Each one only to be inflicted by the Sect Leader's command. Lan Xichen closes his eyes, but then that sickening face swims into view. He opens them and finds Jiang Cheng staring blankly ahead.“The pain was so bad that I… I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything beyond crying for—for my parents… they kept laughing at me, kicking dust into my eyes. When they got tired of my screaming, then they—they took it. Just to shut me up.”He shows him the action. A palm thrust towards his chest. Lan Xichen feels bile rise in his throat.“And it worked. I couldn’t feel anything after that. Everything just went numb. All of it. I became hollow. I became nothing. And in the end I… I even stopped crying.” Jiang Cheng has gone into a place where whatever he’s seeing, whatever he's feeling, it’s far beyond where he can reach. Lan Xichen crawls over on his knees but doesn’t dare touch him. “Wanyin? You can stop now. That’s enough.”He shakes his head slowly. “You don’t get it. They took it from me. Not only that but… I’m the last Jiang. Do you know what that means? That means they took something else.”Lan Xichen can’t help recoiling, his gaze flickering down as though expecting to see or to not see something. “You mean they—”“I don’t know!” Jiang Cheng bursts out. “How could I know? They kept me unconscious and only woke me for beatings. Then, without my core, I literally lost all sensation. Without my core, I couldn’t feel a single thing.” When he spots Lan Xichen glancing downwards, he scoffs. “Oh, you mean that? No, that’s all still there, functioning perfectly as far as I can tell. But… the thing is, they said so, Xichen—they said so. Even if it was just their word... do you get it now?”Unfortunately, he does. What they’ve done was leave a possibility rolling about in Jiang Cheng’s head. The psychological effect of implanting such a thought… of claiming it to be true and leaving it to fester for years doesn’t bear thinking about. How could Jiang Cheng prove them false? How would he even be able to test it? Spiritual energy tests wouldn’t show anything if it was something biological—“Even if I had a wife, if she gave me no children, what would I do? Take more wives? Try concubines? Try the brothels? I’m no Jin Guangshan. I’d rather die than behave like him. I would lose all face chasing this possibility, and what if the problem lies within myself?" He laughs angrily. “It’s not like I even have any suitors who would be willing to take that chance with me."You know what my prospects are. You’ve heard that not even a prostitute would welcome me into her bed. Anyway, what type of man would I be to prey on women like that? If the idea didn’t already repulse me, my Spiders would remind me why it should…” By the end, he is rocking slightly back and forth. Lan Xichen wavers for a second but then risks placing his hand on his shoulder. Jiang Cheng is like a rock—so tense it almost hurts to touch him, and brittle enough that he might just shatter. “Wanyin, I've got you,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around him. Then another. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”“I’m not upset about it. There’s no loss there when there’s nothing to lose. I'm just… I dread what that means for my Sect. Eventually, I'll have to tell them, and when I do...”All of this gives every failed matchmaking attempt of Jiang Cheng’s a completely different meaning. He said it was because of the type of women he was faced with, but in reality, it was also him. Lan Xichen knows the pressures involved with undergoing matchmaking engagements, but with this added pressure—with it being something he couldn’t tell anyone about… “All of this is thanks to one spur of the moment decision,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. “And you know what? Despite how stupid it was, despite how much pain it has brought me… for one moment, you know… I actually felt brave.” He shakes his head with a snort. “It's pathetic, but even though I messed up so badly—” “Did you, though? You still saved him,” Lan Xichen says, pulling Jiang Cheng upright. Through the dark he reaches for Jiang Cheng’s hand and covers it with his own, pressing firmly till his fingertips give way and no longer dig into his flesh. Another layer of protection. Another shield to shelter his heart. “You sacrificed yourself, and though you paid for it dearly—”“But he ended up having to save me. He gave me his core to replace mine, because… because that’s what he always does. He always ends up being the hero.”“That he saved you doesn’t cancel out the fact that you also saved him.” (Lan Xichen wonders, why is it that Jiang Cheng is so buried under his insecurities, that he cannot understand that simple fact? Does he need to conjure up a mirror to make this stubborn man see that he’s contradicting himself?)“When one is under immense stress, when there is no warning—no telling what may happen… one tends to reveal their true nature by how they react, and what they choose to do in the little time they’re given.”Jiang Cheng twists around to squint at him. “So?”“So, when the Wens came,” he says, bringing them back to the beginning, “When you saw them there, your instinct was to protect your brother, wasn't it? ‘On a whim’ you said, which means you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t think for a second about the consequences.”Jiang Cheng doesn’t respond. Lan Xichen heaves a breath and decides to dive into his own past insecurities. The least he can do is share this little piece of himself. “When the Wens came to the Cloud Recesses, when they made us set everything alight, you know I… I didn’t know what to do. Uncle is the one who told me what to do, where to go, and I just did as I was told. I was just following orders, and yet I was praised for what I did, as though it was all my idea.”He meets Jiang Cheng's wide-eyed expression with a grim smile.“The only thing I did that night that by my own choice was to drag my brother out of the fire. It is the only thing I can be proud of, and only because I went back for him against everyone's wishes.”Jiang Cheng exhales loudly. “But there are many other times when you have done the right thing, Zewu-Jun. Compared to my one and only, it’s what people like you and Wei Wuxian do without thinking. There he is—fighting for justice, defending the weak, always being so brave—”“But that’s because he can be,” he interrupts.“I know,” Jiang Cheng frowns. “That’s what I was saying.”“No, it’s not. You don’t understand what I’m trying to say. It’s not that you’re not brave, it’s that you’re cautious too. You have to be. It’s not possible for you to always act ‘on a whim’, because that would be irresponsible of you. To be brave in every situation would be seen as selfish.”The frown deepens, but at least Jiang Cheng appears to be listening.Lan Xichen unconsciously tightens his arm around him, feeling a shadow falling upon both of them—the burden of duty, that Jiang Cheng seems to have forgotten all about, weighs a lot. He hates to remind him of it, but he hopes that this will open his eyes.“It’s not cowardly to be cautious. Young Master Wei is free to do what he wants to an extent because his actions don’t really reflect much on anyone else. It’s different for you—for us. If Young Master Wei were to go too far there would be consequences, but were we to do the same… whilst we might perhaps be protected by our status, our people would most likely suffer more for our mistakes. That type of resentment can last for years.”Jiang Cheng doesn't need to be told this. Jin Ling's struggle... the backlash of Jin Guangyao's secrets revealed, has tarnished his Sect's name. He hangs like a ghost above Lanling Jin, and many other cultivators curse and sneer whenever they come across the Sparks Amidst Snow motif. “But that happened to him too. The Wens—”“Young Master Wei's reputation may have been ruined, but others have never had the same expectations of him as they’ve had of you. He was their saviour—their hero, but he wasn't their leader for long enough to command the role. Therein lies the difference.”“I kicked him out,” Jiang Cheng says quietly. “We agreed it was for the best.”“And as a leader, you know there is no equivalent to that punishment. You cannot abandon your people. It’s your duty—your birthright. For you, it’s not an option to be brave whenever and wherever you please. As a leader, you haven’t the freedom to always follow your heart.”They both fall silent at this.All of this that he is saying are things he already knows, but to say it aloud—to run his hands along the bars of their respective cages, to bring it all to light, makes it all the more restrictive. Jiang Cheng chews on his lip, brows knitted but body yielding to Lan Xichen’s comfort. It feels like they are the only two people in the world, the white noise of the storm thundering outside, and most of the room cast in blue shadows.He squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hand, startling a grunt out of him. “Do you remember when we talked about apologising?” It was months ago, but Jiang Cheng had listened to him as carefully then as he’s listening to him right now. We depend so much on others forgetting that they've been wronged than seeking their forgiveness, that ill feelings are not dealt with at the source, and over time they tend to fester. Jiang Cheng nods reluctantly. What a good memory he has (when he wants to!).“Do you trust me?”That question seems to take Jiang Cheng by surprise. He nods again—a little uncertainly this time, but his voice remains steady. “I suppose I do.”“Then trust me when I say… I think you should tell him.”This, on the other hand, seems to have been expected. Jiang Cheng’s eyes flutter shut and he seems to deflate. Lan Xichen can’t understand his reaction. Was it his suggestion, or him admitting he trusts him that did it?“What good would that do? It’s as he said, it’s all in the past.” Jiang Cheng sounds so defeated, it's rather worrying. “He would rather us not speak about it. He would rather we forget, and I’m beginning to think he’s right. Holding on just makes things worse—”“Is that why you’re so determined to forget? You think letting go of everything that you were—of everything you’ve been through, will somehow help you?” Lan Xichen jostles him roughly, knocking a gasp out of him. “What about the good parts then? What about that ‘one good thing’? Are you so willing to forget everything that you’ll give up the good with the bad?” Jiang Cheng retreats, this time moving fluidly into the space across from him, slipping away like water spilling through his hands. His eyes are like two bolts of lightning, glowing violet around iridescent blue.Lan Xichen doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away for a second. He waits with his arm held in the same place Jiang Cheng was moments ago. The storm holds its breath too. Jiang Cheng’s eyes skitter away, and then return clearer—sharper, yet also more vulnerable. This time Lan Xichen notices what he’s looking at: the painting. Just as he was thinking of that moment... they are on the same wavelength, it seems.I saw you then, he thinks, I’m seeing you now. I see you, Jiang Cheng. Stay with me. Don't turn away.“There's another thing my mother used to tell me," Jiang Cheng barely whispers. "That there is one thing you must put before family and love, and… and that is the truth.” If Lan Xichen ever got the chance to speak to Yu Ziyuan in their next life, he’d advise her to please, please think before she speaks to her son. It seems like everything she’s ever said to him, he’s taken to heart in the worst way. The thing is though that… parents aren’t perfect. He can contest to that. An absent father, a convicted mother—and for Jiang Cheng? His parents were just as flawed, their opinions skewed by their own circumstances.In Jiang Cheng's case, the effect they’ve had on him is painfully obvious. As indelible as scars formed from the Discipline whip. “She said that,” Jiang Cheng says a little louder, “But then Wei Wuxian put me first. He says he lied to me for my sake, but I... I hate that. It doesn't change the fact that he lied! Don’t I get the right to keep this from him too?”“Would you really want to? Would it benefit you in any way? You’ve been carrying this for so long already—”“If he managed it—”“But he's not you, Jiang Cheng, and you’re not him.”He wants to shake him till he sees sense, but he can’t help himself—he scoots over, as inelegant as a crab scuttling across the sand.“Wei Wuxian may have held onto his secret until he died, but he did not live through the thirteen years that followed. It makes all the difference the time you’ve spent bearing this alone.” He grabs Jiang Cheng’s hands. “But you’re here now. You’ve made it. Both of you have, and you’re trying to get back to where you were before. To do that you need to overcome everything standing between you.”“I…”“In this instance, the truth and he are intertwined. Trust in him. Trust in yourself. Trust that what you have built together can weather whatever storm the truth will bring. If you can’t do that, then... then trust in me.” (He almost turns red. The sheer arrogance of what he’s saying!) “Trust that I would never ask this of you without believing it would work out. I only want the best for you, Jiang Cheng.”“You…” Jiang Cheng looks stunned. He stares at their joined hands. He stares at Lan Xichen’s face. Emotions flicker across his face too fast to be read, partly obscured by long strands of hair. “Why?” he rasps. “You want—why?”“Because as your friend, I want you to understand that your sorrow is no less than your brother’s discomfort. Between brothers, hurting one always hurts the other. Young Master Wei might not know it now, but the truth will come out one way or another. I took the choice out of his hands when I revealed Wangji’s feelings back at the Temple. I lost control of myself, forcing him to take responsibility for something he had no idea about."It was not handled the way it should have been, and I thank god every day that things turned out the way they did, but…”“But when would I tell him? How would I tell him?” Jiang Cheng laughs brokenly. Swaying forwards, his weight crashes into Lan Xichen like waves on a rocky shore. It’s not enough to knock him over, but he feels it down to his bones. “It’s not something you bring up in everyday conversation. It’s not something he’d want to hear.”It’s Lan Xichen’s turn to raise his brows. “Did I not just say that I exposed my brother’s feelings by accident? And now you’re asking me what a better way to approach this would be? I thought you were smart!” This time when he laughs, it puffs against Lan Xichen’s neck. It flutters into his heart and coaxes a huff from him. Then a snigger. Then, without warning, the two of them burst out laughing.Laughing like two madmen, clutching at each other—the storm rages on, far away from where it can reach them.It’s hard to say what they’re laughing at. Jiang Cheng unbalances them, knocking the breath out of him with the force of their landing. It’s probably the release of decades-old secrets being shared, and as Jiang Cheng said before: the result of them diving deep into the darkest of places... Lan Xichen wraps his arms around him, their wild laughter sputtering out like a dying flame.Oddly enough, lying there on the hanshi floor, it feels like all the times he’s laid down by himself and cried himself hoarse. There’s that same emptiness, except this time there’s a weight resting on top of him. Fluttering eyelashes tickling his neck, warm hands keeping him anchored.His collar is wet. He doesn’t mention it, instead caressing the back of Jiang Cheng’s head, barely resisting the urge to tug his hair free. Surprisingly enough the man seems content letting himself be held. Maybe in the dark, when it’s just the two of them, it doesn’t matter as much.What is face when you cannot see one another? What are boundaries, when you’ve shared the conversations they’ve had?Meaningless. It’s all meaningless now. Nothing compared to this.“I’ve never had a friend like you before.” The words are muffled against his shoulder. Lan Xichen halts mid-stroke, suddenly glad that Jiang Cheng’s ear isn’t pressed to his chest. He’s less glad when he lifts his head to look at him, wary of what expression he might be making. Jiang Cheng’s smile though… he’s never seen him smile like that before. “Oh?” is the most intelligent response he can come up with.Another chuckle, another wave of something new cresting over the two of them. “Maybe it’s because we’re both leaders, or maybe it’s because you’re too persistent for your own good,” Jiang Cheng says, tweaking Lan Xichen’s earlobe (he doesn’t squeak—he doesn’t) before rolling off. “You’re so nosy. So nagging. Normally I can’t stand that, but I… I’ve never known anyone like you before, so maybe it’s alright.”“…Oh.”Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Oh? Is that all you have to say? Oh?”You’ve known me for longer than you think, is what he wants to say. Longer than I knew myself, until now. His arms feel empty, his chest aching the same way it did when he ran away from that little boy he found in the mountains. The same way it did when a crying baby was returned to his father after sleeping all afternoon on his lap, stained in ink and mud and tears.“That's good,” he croaks out, craning his head to see Jiang Cheng’s reaction to both of his mediocre responses. The man is a dark shape against the fire again, the jut of his nose sharp against the smudge of his eyelashes and the gentle curve of his neck. Though he doesn’t say anything for a while, the lull is tinged with regret. That's good. Lan Xichen digs his nails into his palms, wishing he had the strength to make them bleed. Couldn’t he have thought of literally anything better to say? What is Jiang Cheng thinking now? He wants to know. If he were to guess… Jiang Cheng compares himself to everyone. I’ve never had a friend like you. But everyone knows Lan Xichen had sworn brothers. He… oh, but this thing he has with Jiang Cheng is completely different. He loved his brothers—loved them almost as much as he loves Wangji, but Jiang Cheng is different. He’s always been different.(He remembers him. He remembers—)“Should I be afraid of you?” he asks suddenly, turning to face him.His tone is teasing, but it makes Lan Xichen freeze, sensing that that disappointment is transforming into something else. Jiang Cheng sits abruptly, shrugging off Lan Xichen’s hand.“It seems you’re capable of changing my mind with just a word. You praise my handwriting, I take up calligraphy. You give me a token, then I give you one back. Now you tell me to give up my biggest secret, and I’m actually considering doing it.”Jiang Cheng takes his wrist, pressing his fingers to his veins. Lan Xichen’s pulse quickens in response, but he doesn’t mention it. His eyes flash purple, his gaze sweeping up and down. He lets him go, and when he stands up, Lan Xichen scurries upright as well.“You shouldn't though,” he says, staggering to his feet. Jiang Cheng is already picking up his cloak. He’s leaving. Glancing outdoors, it’s only then that he realises the daylight has dwindled. The lanterns have been lit. How long have they been talking? “You have nothing to fear from me, Jiang Cheng. I keep my promises. I always do.”Jiang Cheng glances at him. He knots the tie on his cloak, brushes his hair back, straightens out his clothes. “That’s not what I’m afraid of,” he says quietly. “I know that. I wouldn’t have told you anything if I didn’t trust you. Even if this all ends disastrously, you don't need to worry. I’ll write to you all about it. I'll complain like I always do." He crosses his arms. “Why the long face? I haven’t stopped writing to you yet, have I? Or are you sick of me complaining?”Lan Xichen’s throat clicks dryly. “Are you planning to?”“Not really, no. But you know how it can get.” Picking the umbrella up, Jiang Cheng winces looking at the broken door. “With all the stuff I have to do, there's hardly any time.”“Right.”“But I won’t let that stop me,” he adds, giving him a searching look. “Will you stop looking at me like that? Give me some face, would you?”Lan Xichen watches him pick up the door. When he goes to replace it, there’s that swooping feeling again. He's leaving. “When will I see you next?” Jiang Cheng whirls around, a blast of cold air flinging his hair about. He stares for a bit, before replying, “I’ll be returning with Jin Ling soon. I might come back before then. It depends.”“Ah, that’s right.” Soon Jin Ling will come here for his studies. He has more promises to keep. A whole mountain of things to teach. “Then… I guess I’ll see you soon?”Jiang Cheng nods, fitting the door in place and slowly pushing it shut. "Take care Xichen-ge. See you in a few weeks.” He...He called him… Xichen-ge.…It wasn’t Huan-ge, so it’s not that bad, Jiang Cheng tells himself. Lan Xichen called him Jiang Cheng too, so it’s nothing really. Then he trips over a root, curses loudly as he staggers onto the wet stone path, and stumbles straight into— “Whoa!” Wei Wuxian yells, grabbing him just in time.The momentum spins them both around, and then they knock into Wen Ning, who catches them both, and remains unmoved from his place. Jiang Cheng coughs, smacking his brother till he removes his strangling hold from his neck. He wheezes, leaning against what he thinks is a tree.But no, it’s Wen Ning. The corpse lets him lean on him, and also lets him shove him away when he realises that he is not, in fact, a tree. The three stand for a few minutes like that, caught at a standstill. Jiang Cheng wonders when Wei Wuxian got back and wants to ask him about it, but… Wen Ning is there. It’s not like he isn’t involved in what they’d be discussing, but Jiang Cheng still isn’t very keen on engaging with him. Wen Ning must sense this because he turns to him and stiffly bows. “Sect Leader Jiang, thanks for the… at the festival…” he trails off, holding out the borrowed cloak.Jiang Cheng doesn’t move a muscle. “Keep it.”He folds his arms, refusing to take the offered cloak. Wen Ning waits until he realises that he means it. Wei Wuxian’s face is doing something weird, his eyes shining with something even more bizarre. Eventually, he decides to be merciful—grabbing Jiang Cheng by the elbow and towing him away somewhere where they can escape the awkwardness.“How did it go?” he asks once they settle on a path.Where is Lan Wangji? he wants to ask. The two are rarely seen apart.He can't help thinking about the comparison Lan Xichen made—about him confessing on behalf of his brother, how it was because he lost control of himself that those things came to light. It's incredible to think that a person like him lost control, but it seems Lan Xichen was sitting on this knowledge for a considerable length of time. He said he regretted risking everything on that impulse, but was also relieved it ended well... But that doesn't guarantee that it will go the same way for Jiang Cheng. And at the back of his mind, he wonders if there is such a thing as the right time to confess anything. When is the right time? Could it be now, whilst he's still sort of 'in the moment'? Is there any good way to bring up such a topic? If there is, well, he can't think of one.)Wei Wuxian shrugs. “We met some more strange people. At first, they seemed okay, but then one of them upset Lan Zhan…” When he hears about the healer, Jiang Cheng scowls. “What type of healer gives that type of shitty advice? Making such assumptions is so—so unprofessional! He hasn’t even examined Lan Xichen! The cheek.”“I think he was just trying to help.” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose. “But he could have worded it better though.”“It’s stupid to just give up like that,” Jiang Cheng sneers.Wei Wuxian laughs, slapping him on the back. “I knew you’d say that. You’ve never been one to give up.”“It’s not in our way to do so,” he asserts. The Yunmeng Jiang way, which—despite his marriage—Wei Wuxian has never once forgotten.“Lan Zhan’s reaction was a lot like yours, actually,” his brother says, tossing a jade token (probably stolen from his husband) up in the air and catching it.“What do you mean by that?”The answer doesn't come at first. Jiang Cheng is used to this though. Wei Wuxian's thoughts are a lilting commentary on the world, his observations rarely making sense, even when he bothers to explain himself to others. (You're like a cat, he'd said once, poking Jiang Cheng on the nose. It had no relation to what they'd been doing. Jiang Cheng had been offended. A cat? Why a cat? Why not a dog? He'd hurled his bowl at Wei Wuxian's head, giving chase as soon as the asshole started to run.)“You know, I’ve never thanked you for keeping my things.”This segue is so smooth—so seamless that Jiang Cheng almost doesn’t register it at first. Then he stumbles again, tripping over his own foot this time. Wei Wuxian shoots him a smirk that has him automatically swinging his fist. This naturally provokes a scuffle. Even though their height difference should make it difficult, every dodge and grapple is the same routine as when they were boys.After a few beats, they both relent, and Jiang Cheng finally pants out, “What things?” The shrug he receives is the first clue something is off. “Chenqing, of course. But also… thank you for thinking about me. For keeping me in your thoughts.”Jiang Cheng blinks. “I think you have me confused with your Second Young Master Lan.”“Jin Ling told me you never got a dog, even after I died.”Yet another abrupt change. Jiang Cheng’s steps falter this time. He falls a little behind, staring at his brother’s back. “Why would he tell you that?”“Well I asked him who got him that terrifying beast, and he told me it wasn’t you.” Wei Wuxian slows to a stop. “I’d have thought it would’ve been you. You love dogs, Jiang Cheng.” He turns around then. “So why wasn’t it you? You could have had all the dogs you wanted when I was gone.”“Are you serious? Tell me, how exactly could I have gotten a dog?” he demands, lurching forwards step by step. “I had Jin Ling to take care of. A whole fucking sect to take care of. Where would I have the time for a dog?""You'd have found it." Wei Wuxian doesn't miss a beat. "You always find time for the things you love."What the fuck is he saying? Jiang Cheng clenches his hands into fists. Why does Wei Wuxian sound like—like he knows something, and isn't saying so? He hates it when he does that.It's not that complicated, Jiang Cheng, he'll laugh. Stop thinking so hard. If you frown that much your face will stay that way!"Even when I came back, you could have got one," Wei Wuxian continues, his voice taking on an edge that has Jiang Cheng gritting his teeth. "So why didn't you?"There’s no way to describe what happens next.Jiang Cheng just sort of… loses it. "In what world could I get a dog and not risk having to give them away because of you? What would I do if you came back? Would I have to choose between them and you again? Would I give the dog away?! Do you know how unfair that is? The dog certainly doesn’t deserve that, and neither do I!”“Why would you have to worry about giving them away again, A-Cheng? When I was dead, I was dead. When I came back, I had no place in your life anymore. Even now, there's nothing stopping you.” Wei Wuxian spins around, his eyes shiny and red. “Saying all of this makes me wonder. You were waiting for me too, weren’t you? You… you never lost hope for my return.”“You think you can die like that and I will let you rest in peace? I’d want you back, even just so that I could kill you myself. You asshole. You fucking selfish prick—”“Jiang Cheng.” There are arms around him then. A smaller, slighter body holding him tight. “Thank you, A-Cheng. Thank you.”“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng has never been hugged so much in one day. First Lan Xichen and now Wei Wuxian? It takes him a moment to work out what to do with his hands—whether to push him away or hold him. “Why are you acting so weirdly? I don't understand. Wei Wuxian! Get off me and explain yourself!”“All these questions when what you really should be asking is… why was I right there outside the hanshi? The question I’m asking myself is: why are all the doors in this place so flimsy? They break so easily. Just like that, it seems.”Jiang Cheng’s blood runs cold. “Another thing you should be asking is, when did it stop raining? How long might I have been standing there? How much could I have heard?” Wei Wuxian tilts back to look up at him, his nose red and eyes bloodshot. “I came to find Xichen-ge, because Lan Zhan was so upset, but then… then I heard voices.”His mind shutters. With its last dying breath, it offers: but isn’t this a good thing? If he's heard everything, then he knows. If he knows, then we don’t have to say anything. But Wei Wuxian is looking at him now. Looking at him in the same way he used to whenever he was waiting for Jiang Cheng to admit to doing something, whether that was something stupid or something actually bad. There are so many memories mixed together in that look—a glimpse of A-Jie even, in the way he forces eye-contact, but keeps his thumb rubbing circles on his shoulder.
Stop looking at me like that, he wants to say, but... but if he's heard everything, then isn't this look what Jiang Cheng should have been expecting?
Promise not to treat me differently. Promise you won’t change the way you look at me. It's easy to ask Lan Xichen these things. He has no history of breaking his promises, and he—he listens. Wei Wuxian will look at him whatever way he wants to, so right now... right now he bears his judgement with a heavy heart. They'd been doing so well, but then he just had to ruin it with this.“A-Cheng, you… you’re such an idiot. You are… are so stupid. So fucking brave. A goddamn fool." He shoves him and Jiang Cheng takes it. He punches him and he takes it. "How long would you have kept this secret, huh? Would you ever have told me anything? Didn’t I deserve to know?!” Wei Wuxian squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavily through his nostrils. When tears start rolling down his cheeks, Jiang Cheng flinches as it starts soaking into his collar. He swallows thickly against the lump in his throat. “If you heard, then there's nothing more to say—”“You're so stubborn! Who lives years without getting a dog, just because he… just because…”
Slap!
Jiang Cheng reels, hissing. A punch is one thing, but a slap? “You—you bastard!”“You're the bastard, keeping this all to your damn self!!”Jiang Cheng shoves him away then, stomping away to kick a rock. It slams into a tree branch with enough force to snap it clean off. “You expect me to tell you anything when you don’t even want to acknowledge the past? How does that work?”“Well, maybe I was wrong! Ever think of that? You let me decide what we did. You didn't even challenge it. What was I supposed to think?”That stops him in his tracks. “Hold on a second. Did I hear right, or did you actually admit you were wrong about something?”“I’m wrong about a lot of things! I don’t intend to lie about them! But you… you realise I didn’t want to talk because I thought you didn’t, right?”“Well, neither of us did.”“Maybe we should have talked though. If not everything, at least about this. You… you almost died, A-Cheng. When I found you, you were barely breathing. And—and now that I know what they did… they—”“Will you calm down? Breathe, you idiot. Come on.”Wei Wuxian is a gasping, sobbing mess. Jiang Cheng cringes at being so close to his wet, ruddy face. “How can I calm down?" he cries. "My brother almost died for me. The last Jiang. Beaten, broken. The whip. And then all the—” he retches. "The blood."This is where Jiang Cheng hates being on the same wavelength as this imbecile. When he cries, he also wants to cry. When he gags, the nausea is catching. Jiang Cheng almost bites off his tongue and slaps Wei Wuxian hard. “Will you get a hold of yourself? Fucking hell.”“But there was so much blood,” Wei Wuxian babbles, slumping forwards. His forehead knocks into his chest. “I really thought you were dead, you know? How could you do that to me, Jiang Cheng? How could you die like that, without me there by your side? Am I not your servant? Did I not swear to protect you?”These are the questions he’s asked himself countless times. How dare you die like that? How dare you leave me behind? It seems they might not be so different after all.“I promised your mother, you know. I swore to her that I would protect you—and then you go off like that, and… and for what? Not for your parents' bodies, like you let me believe, but… for me, Jiang Cheng? For me?”“Yes, for you! Of course, for you!”They are breaking all the rules. Making this much noise—being so rowdy, showing this much emotion. Jiang Cheng doesn’t care. As he watches the man in front of him crying, he finds his vision blurring too. Between brothers, hurting one always hurts the other. This is so freaking typical. It's just like after Lotus Pier burnt, the two of them watching each other bawl.He scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Enough,” he mutters. “It's enough now. Let’s leave it.”“How can you say that? Don’t you realise that this changes everything?”“Shut up.”“I thought you hated me. All this time—and even now, I still thought that you did. When really you… you—”“The reason you lost your core was because I messed up. Don’t forget that part. I thought that maybe I could be the brave one for once… that maybe I could be the one to save you.” Jiang Cheng keeps rubbing his mouth, tasting bile. Tasting blood and salt, the bitter taste of regret. “It was madness thinking I could escape them. At the time I wasn’t thinking. It’s not the same as when you choose to do the right thing. I acted on instinct.”“So you ran into a gang of Wens on instinct. You tried to distract them, all by yourself… on instinct.” He thumps his forehead into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “I hate you. I hate you so much. Why did you do that? You’re so stupid.”For no perceivable reason, this is what gets to him—just for a moment, he gives up on everything.I hate you is what they used to laugh, as they would punch and tickle each other till they were both crying, wheezing messes. Jiang Cheng curls his arm around his brother's shoulders. “A long time ago I made you a promise. I said I’d keep them away from you, didn't I? The dogs. All dogs, Wen-dogs included. So that’s what I did. Stop making such a big deal out of nothing.”“You’re just making it worse, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian sniffs, dragging him down till they’re once again a tangle of limbs. This ridiculous lump. This disgusting, sniffling, wet, disgrace of a human being. Jiang Cheng shakes his head, but it’s… it’s not so bad. Not nearly as disastrous as he’d thought it would be. At least for him, it’s not. Wei Wuxian shuffles closer like the pathetic leech he is, clinging onto him with all four limbs and refusing to let go. Shameless. Utterly shameless.
I only want the best for you, Jiang Cheng.
Well, even if this isn’t the best... it’s good enough. Later that night, Wei Ying doesn’t expect he’ll be able to sleep at all. But somehow, he does. Somehow, despite having a whole new host of horrors to torment him, he doesn’t dream of his little brother being tortured. If he’s being honest, it feels a bit like a betrayal to have space in his mind to think of anything else. But in his sleep, he has no control over what he dreams. What steals him away is something he couldn’t have predicted.
He sits in a dense white fog, something warm held in between his hands. Beside him, a light flashes in the corner of his eyes. It takes a few times of this happening for him to realise that it is a figure he’s seeing—a man dressed in white, who flickers in and out of existence.
Most of the time he is crouched and weeping. Other times he is clawing at his face, screaming without a voice.
It’s tea he’s holding. He realises that from the smell. Wei Ying crawls over when the man stays for long enough, collapsed in a heap. He offers him the cup. After a moment, the man reaches for the drink—but then his hand falls through.
A ghost? Wei Ying keeps trying to pass him the cup, but it keeps passing through him. The man eventually gives up, covering his face with shaking hands.
“Poor child.” He jumps with fright. An old woman stands on his other side, clicking her tongue as she stirs a large pot. “Wants so badly to forget, but the heart doesn’t forget that easily, does it?”
The man sobs, standing to leave—it’s then that Wei Ying sees his face.
His face bandaged tightly across the eyes. Xiao Xingchen? He claws at his throat. Why can’t he speak? Wei Ying tries to call to him, but nothing comes out. Instead, Xiao Xingchen turns to look at something over his shoulder. His face contorts with longing.
“You’re kindred souls, all of you. If one cries, all will cry. If one is happy, all will be happy.”
What does that even mean? All of them—who is she talking about? Before he can ask, Xiao Xingchen disappears, blinking completely out of existence.
The woman doesn’t seem concerned. “Won’t you drink?” she asks, tilting the cup towards his lips. Wei Ying inhales the fragrant steam, eyes falling half-mast. His heart lightens, soothed for a moment. He lifts the cup—
Crash! The cup is smacked out of his hands! He blinks just in time to see two burning yellow eyes. The last thing he hears is: “Spit that out!”
Then he sits up, waking for real. Crying, gasping, and clinging onto his husband for dear life. Xiao Xingchen... why was he there? Where did he go? Who was that person at the end—Lan Zhan is holding him tightly, murmuring his name over and over again, but he cannot stop shaking, because what was that?What the fuck was that?!
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"One of the hardest lessons in life is letting go. Whether it’s guilt, anger, love, loss. Change is never easy. You fight to hold on, and you fight to let go."
— Kahlil Gibran
It’s rare when he can honestly say that he has no idea what his brother is thinking, but for the past few weeks it's been nearly impossible to get a read on him. He'd waited after Jiang Cheng left, but it was not that evening, but late the following afternoon when Wangji finally sought him out. They'd sat in a silence Lan Xichen couldn’t understand. More and more, these days were coming, when not for all his efforts could he get a glimpse behind his brother’s composed mask. Not for all the years he’s known him could he unravel a single thread, and so he was left hopelessly blind and helpless—or that's how it felt to him, to be cut off from Wangji's emotions, just like everyone else. The closest he could equate this current behaviour to, was the period after their mother passed. Golden eyes that would trail him around the room. A little boy who wouldn’t reach for him, but would watch him the same way one would watch a spark catching fire. Single-minded focus on every task, and barely a word from him for years.Except here, Wangji is avoiding looking at him instead of the opposite. With that same intensity of before, he's refusing to meet Lan Xichen's eye, and it's frustrating. It's worrying. What has he done to deserve this? Did he offend his brother in some way? Why is he being so distant?“Wangji,” he calls, crossing the last stretch of hallway. It’s these little moments when he sees a glimpse—his brother turns immediately, caught off-guard. Something flickers in his eyes. When they stand side-by-side, Lan Xichen hums and reaches out to trace the carvings on the hollowed out window that depicts xiyue: learning music. They used to come here to play as children, back when Wangji wasn’t yet able to read and was too small to practice the sword.“She is always looking away,” Wangji says softly, startling him by speaking.To Lan Xichen, it's like hearing the sweetest music after hours of silence! He turns to find Wangji fourteen steps ahead, standing between daolu and guiji[1]. When he goes to see what he means, he nods. “Indeed, she is.”He's speaking about Lan An's chosen partner, etched only into these two windows. In daolu, she is being carried in a wedding procession. In guiji, she's a distant figure riding on a cloud. Lan An is far below her, walking away up the steps to his old monastery.“Did she even come of her own choice?”There are no official records of their founding mother, save for short personal accounts written by her children. A large collection of songs and poems are dedicated to her by her husband, but none even mention her name. Lan Xichen leans closer to examine the small figure. She doesn’t even have a face! "I don't know, Wangji," he sighs.“She was not our mother,” Wangji continues. “But she is still our mother.”Wangji used to love riddles as a boy. He would solve Lan Xichen’s painstakingly crafted puzzles with perfect one-word answers, only the sparkle in his eyes betraying his delight. Despite the hard work, Lan Xichen had striven to compose hundreds of riddles for him. This time, however, Lan Xichen is the one asked to find an answer... and so he does.He leans in to look more carefully, and then he slowly smiles. “She isn’t looking away, didi. Look more closely.”There are preparations that need overseeing today, and so he prepares to leave. Young Master Jin will be arriving this afternoon, but he is not the one who will be needing his support. He pats his brother in farewell, endeared by his single-minded focus on the task he has set him. Look more closely? Now Wangji is practically drilling a hole through the wood itself!Lan Xichen sighs happily. Some things never change.Just as he’s walking away, Wangji asks, “Where?”Where is she looking? Lan Xichen’s smile widens and he stops to glance back. “Like this," he demonstrates. "Over her shoulder.”There are many reasons why a person might look behind themselves. Avoidance, yearning, regret, anger and shame, to name a few. But she was not gazing back at her husband though. Her face was turned in the other direction in both carvings.Over her shoulder, he thinks later to himself, but looking at what? It hits him then… there could be one other reason for a person doing such a thing.He remembers it in a flash. “Brother Xichen, behind you!!!” His heart grows cold. That other reason would be… if they were in danger.Or perhaps, if they were afraid. A couple of days before this, Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian go to Caiyi Town to meet with Nie Huaisang. The letter said it wasn’t urgent, but when he arrives Nie Huaisang is a bundle of nerves. He dives across the table, and there could be no better indication of his mood than him grabbing both of their hands. To his credit, Lan Zhan does not retaliate with force. Nie Huaisang doesn't even seem to be aware of what a precarious position he's put himself in.“Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian laughs, carefully detaching the man’s hands (before he loses them). “Calm down, will you? It can’t be that bad.” They have heard nothing from him since he sent them after the old man, and with the trail gone cold and Lan Zhan reluctant to chase after another dead end, they’ve been waiting for more news. Nie Huaisang wrings his freed hands and wails, “Wei-xiong, I’ve made a terrible mistake!”It takes him back several years hearing that anguished tone. He half expects the man before him to whip out a textbook and bemoan the number of things they've been told to memorise. Nie Huaisang wringing his hands is a bad enough indication that something's wrong, but hardly enough to give him a good enough estimate on how bad it might be— “Wei-xiong...”“Alright, alright! Sit down first, for pity’s sake.” Wei Wuxian waits till Nie Huaisang is seated, sort of wishing Jiang Cheng was here to deal with this. That way the ‘responsible person in the group’ would not have to be him! Unless… he turns to check with Lan Zhan, but the man is busy imitating a block of ice. Oh well. It was worth a try. “Is this about the list?”“No, the list is being dealt with.”“Then whatever it is, go from the start,” he suggests to his friend, who shakes his head pitifully.“If I had to guess, this started about a month ago. No, I mean—it was longer than that… oh, I don’t know, I really don't know!” he whines, snapping his fan open to calm himself. Something nearing a gale force wind smacks Wei Wuxian in the face from the speed at which he starts fanning. Dear god, could it really be that bad? After a few minutes, he calms down enough to speak. “Wei-xiong, do you remember what I told you about those rumours?”It takes a moment, but then: “The Core-Stealing Hand? What does that have to do with this?”“Have you been keeping up-to-date with the rumours?” Nie Huaisang asks patiently.Truth be told he hasn’t. It’s not the focus of their investigation… unless it is?! He narrows his eyes, “What have you done, Huaisang?”“I have found their source."Their source? He's found the Core-Stealing Hand himself?!"First I need to tell you about the rumours first, or to be more specific—about the effect those rumours are having.” He spreads his hands open. “To put it simply, they’ve caught on like wildfire. Just like how the events at the Guanyin Temple have spread and circulated, now this rumour is making its rounds. The problem is that the theories attached to it are all coming from you.”“Me?” The fuck?! “But I’ve done nothing! I've said nothing—”“Not what you've done or said. The story of you: the Yiling Patriarch, the inventor of demonic cultivation, the revived young master who brought justice by putting an end to Jin Guangyao!”“…”“I know, I know, the last one isn’t technically true, but the type of stories commoners enjoy never concern themselves with the truth. As long as a story is exciting, full of drama and suspense, that’s all they're interested in.”The I know, I know, was enough to throw him off, but now Wei Wuxian is truly puzzled. “But what does ‘my story’ have to do with those rumours? Surely they don’t think that I—”“No, you aren’t the accused. Oh, it’s—” Nie Huaisang smacks his forehead, “It’s so complicated! Where do I even begin? The elders? The minor sects? Everything is such a mess... ”Lan Zhan, “Don’t go from the start. Explain each part separately.”“The minor sects,” Nie Huaisang says quickly. “After the events of Jin Guangyao’s death people were already talking, but now with Xichen-ge out of commission…” Lan Zhan stiffens at this, the temperature of the room dropping several degrees. Amazingly enough, Nie Huaisang continues, “Are you aware what the general public's opinions of the Great Four Sects are right now?”Before he can answer, Lan Zhan says: “Unstable.”“That’s right: unstable. The consequences of Jin Guangyao’s machinations have been like ripples spreading across an endlessly wide lake. There seems to be no end to the crimes people are finding and claiming that he has committed."With all this going on, many of the minor sects are beginning to see this as an opportunity to make their names known. Some are even bold enough to aspire towards usurping our positions whilst they still have the chance. The problem though is that, with Lanling Jin in shambles, with Young Master Jin too young, Xichen-ge in seclusion, and myself not really considered a viable contender… who does that leave as their main opposition?”“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian does not register the chill in the room at that moment, instead feeling his veins flood with ice. Nie Huaisang nods sombrely, dropping the fan to show them some face. “The clan many thought to be ruined by the Wens rose like a phoenix from the ashes. Since then, from Jiang-xiong’s hard work through years of toil, compared to the rest of us—his sect is currently seen as the most stable, most successful one of all. It has triumphed and prevailed through so much hardship. Do you see what the problem with this is?”"Jealousy?"It's easy to see why the minor sects might envy Jiang Cheng's successes. Nie Huaisang hums, shrugging ambivalently. But if not that, then what could it be? The fact that Jiang Cheng has done so well is bound to be the reason if Nie Huaisang has made a point of saying so. “He’s successful but not popular, Wei-xiong. Not well-liked at all, or at least, not by those outside his own sect. Though his disciples are exceedingly loyal to him, not many others are quite as fond of him. Many of the minor sects fear the wrath of Sandu Shengshou, knowing how powerful he is and how quick to anger. More than that, as you said: they want what he has, and because of that they see him as a future threat—”“Chief Cultivator,” Lan Zhan says, startling Wei Wuxian for the fact he's interrupted someone else! He’s really been out of sorts ever since they returned to Gusu... Lan Zhan turns to Nie Huaisang, “They think he’s a possible candidate.”“Which is stupid, right? Jiang-xiong hasn’t even put in a claim for the position. You know him best,” he says, looking to Wei Wuxian, “Has he ever shown any inclination for becoming Chief Cultivator?”“Well he’s always complaining that he has so much to do, so I don’t really see him wanting to take on more work...” Jiang Cheng has always been first and foremost devoted to his own beloved sect, after all. It wouldn't be likely he'd be able to remain impartial during discussions. “But what does that have to do with everything else?”“It’s all a ploy. All of it based on false evidence and greed and—and opportunistic bastards! The minor sects want to ruin Jiang Cheng’s chances just on the off-chance that he might run for Chief Cultivator. Beyond that, the plan as far as I can see is to ruin his name to ruin his sect’s reputation, thereby removing any chance of retaliation or recovery.”“So they’re… they’re targeting Jiang Cheng?”“That's what I'm saying. And now that I’ve told you the reason—the main cause being the opportunity created by our sects losing standing in the cultivation world, and others seeing that as a chance to try and seize their moment,” Nie Huaisang says. “Next we must consider their methods. That being: spreading rumours.”
Wei-xiong, do you remember what I told you about those rumours?
The Core-Stealing Hand? What does that have to do with this?
“One piece of information that was unwittingly shared at the Temple was that Jiang Cheng has your core. It’s the only thing everyone knows for certain. How it was given, why it was given—none of that has been properly explained, not that anyone cares what the truth actually is.”(Wei Wuxian shakes his head numbly. No, no, no! They can’t... how dare they use this against them!)“In rumours and in stories, the way they’re told is often oversimplified. There is always the hero,” he says, pointing at Wei Wuxian, “And then, there is the villain.”“But… but that’s ridiculous!”“Is it? As far as everyone knows, it is as it appears: the feud between Wei Wuxian and his shidi has always been well-known. That Jiang Cheng's jealousy and the growing pressures from the war overwhelmed him, changing him into the literal personification of rage and grief… and then, sometime in the interim, Jiang Cheng mysteriously gained your core.”“But that’s because his was destroyed by the Core-Melting Hand, Huaisang!” He shouldn’t be taking his out on the messenger, but this—this is too much! Nie Huaisang narrows his eyes, eerily calm.“Just as I thought... but no one knows that part. Even I didn’t know until you confirmed it right now. The fact is, even the commoners who know nothing of cultivation know that a golden core is precious, and not something one would give away willingly. Put together with the fact that everyone knows Jiang Cheng has always borne a grudge against you, envying you… it paints a lot of other things in a different light. Even the fact you pursued demonic cultivation has suddenly become understandable, to an extent.”“But he’s... but he’s my brother! Who else would I be willing to give my core to? Do these people have no brains?!” Lan Zhan tries to hold him back, but he lurches across the table, grabbing him by the collar. “Listen to me Huaisang. After what the Wens did to him, Jiang Cheng would have died—”“That doesn’t matter! Whatever your reasons, even if you told them to the whole world it would not make any difference. Let me demonstrate what I mean. I’m hearing all of this for the first time now, and let me tell you what you’ve said sounds like.” Ticking off fingers: “You sacrificed your core, you suffered the demonic path, you died—all for love of your brother. On top of that, many still believe that he killed you. Added together, that paints an ugly picture.” He points at him again, “Hero.” Points out of the window, “Villain.”Hero? Villain?
(So what if the GusuLan Sect has its Two Jades? The Yunmeng Jiang Sect will have its Two Heroes!)
“It doesn’t have to make sense, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says gently. “People will always believe what they want to believe. Your story is so beloved that it casts a shadow, not only over but also against Jiang Cheng. Also, Jiang-xiong has his own bad reputation to contend with. He has never put any effort into trying to make himself likeable. Everyone in this room—well, perhaps not Hanguang-Jun—but you and I may like him... but the rest of the world really doesn’t. They are not his friends.”Wei Wuxian closes his eyes, cursing his brother’s loner tendencies. Cursing the unforgiving world for not recognising a man consumed by grief. Cursing gossiping layabouts who don't care one way or other, so long as they get their entertainment. Cursing everything that's happened to them that has brought them to this point.“The minor sect Leaders are especially not his friends,” Nie Huaisang adds, “Which is why the rumour has gained so much momentum. I'm pretty sure their elders are the ones behind this and are fanning the flames of every whisper. I’ve done my best trying to stamp it out, but this is something beyond what taking any sort of retaliatory action can control. Which is… which is why I’ve made myself into a deterrent.”Wei Wuxian blames the shock of everything for making his brain so slow, which is why Lan Zhan makes the leap before him.The Second Jade bows formally, “Congratulations, Chief Cultivator.”… Nie Huaisang?!Nie Huaisang is—But he said so himself, didn’t he?
W
ei-xiong, I’ve made a terrible mistake!
Were it not for the fact that Nie Huaisang’s face is rather green, and that he does (in fact) trust him, and believes in his good-for-nothing aspirations… Wei Wuxian might think he’d done this for his own gain. But it would not be a gain for Nie Huaisang, who wants nothing more than a quiet peaceful life, to seek a position with so much power and responsibility.The Nie Huaisang he used to know is still as much of a slacker as he ever was, and would live quite happily painting his fans and writing his porn for the rest of his days if he could. (Alleged porn. Jiang Cheng claims that he confiscated several imports from Qinghe Nie, and when he saw what it was, he burnt it all… but he has delicate sensibilities. He probably burnt some very good art!) The fan snaps open again and this time the wind is like a hurricane!“All us Sect Leaders agreed to wait one year to let things settle,” Nie Huaisang says glumly, “And also to give Xichen-ge some time to recover. But since Xichen-ge has yet to make an appearance, and with all of this brewing, I had to do something…”“That was brave of you,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding when his friend shoots him a surprised look. He deserves some recognition for this. He's definitely taken one for the team here! Not only has he made himself a deterrent, but also made himself into a possible target. “Your brother would be proud.”The man blinks a few times, clearly taken aback. “Let me make one thing clear though: this is temporary. I am only doing this to take the heat off Jiang Cheng, and once everything is sorted I am handing this off to someone else!”“Who would that someone else be though?”If this whole rumour-thing is designed as part of a plan to take power away from the Great Four, will Nie Huaisang wait till Jin Ling is old enough to take his position? Or will they wait for another worthy candidate to come forth?“Hopefully it'll be Xichen-ge who takes it. By the way, how is he doing—ah-la-la! Forget I asked!” he wails, ducking away from Lan Zhan’s icy expression.“What if Xichen-ge can’t do it?” Wei Wuxian asks, placing a comforting hand on his husband's knee. Nie Huaisang’s expression blanks completely, the fan slipping from his fingers. Beside him, Lan Zhan stops breathing. After thinking about it, he says, “Then I will abolish the whole damn thing. It's stupid anyway, and there’s no way I’m doing this job forever!”“Would Jiang Cheng not actually be a good candidate?”“He would," Nie Huaisang agrees. "He’d be a real pain in the ass to deal with at meetings, but he’d keep everything running smoothly. Despite that, I think you're ignoring the point I’m trying to make, which is that—”“No one trusts him to have that much power,” he says, clenching his fists. "Because no one likes him."It’s something he’s always been aware of: the fact that his brother often comes off as arrogant, selfish, domineering, and even cruel. He can be, and has been, all those things, but what they don’t know are the reasons behind that, nor the fact that there is a lot more to him than anger and pain. They don't care that he’s awkward and shy, that he is loyal to a fault, that his anger is a result of years of stewing in his loneliness, that his tongue is sharp but his heart soft.My shidi, he thinks, shaking his head, is so misunderstood.“What right do these idiots have to blame someone for being the last man standing? Can no one succeed in this life without being punished for it? Jiang Cheng isn’t even flaunting his successes! He has too much pride to ever dare to!”“Remember, it’s the public’s opinion of him that supports this rumour. It’s skewed badly for exactly the same reasons you said just now. Jiang Cheng doesn’t like to engage with rumours at all, and won’t ever rely on someone else to speak for him. He’s too prideful to bother taking such things seriously, but this… this I fear is something serious, Wei-xiong.”“What was the catalyst?” Lan Zhan asks out of the blue.Nie Huaisang blinks. “What do you mean?”“You say this began after Guanyin Temple, which was over a year ago. Something must have changed.”“Ah, you’re right. Something did change. It… it actually caught me by surprise when I heard about this, but then again at your wedding…” Nie Huaisang purses his lips. “Would you say that Jiang Cheng’s been spending a lot of time with Xichen-ge recently?”"..."“That’s because I asked him to,” Wei Wuxian says, cringing slightly when his husband turns to him questioningly. “To keep an eye on him, you see. His Jiang eyes are unparalleled. I thought it might be useful to have him monitor Xichen-ge’s spiritual energy.”“Yes, that's a good idea. But do you see how this might appear to others?”The ice has made its way to his heart. Wei Wuxian can scarcely breathe.“This is where two rumours happen to intersect.”Lan Zhan inhales sharply. “Core-Stealing Hand.”The pieces suddenly click together, resounding in the silence… only it’s more like screaming. Endless screaming in his head. This isn’t fair. They can’t think that—but Jiang Cheng? How can they think that Jiang Cheng would—“My sources told me that Xichen-ge was seen at the Yunmeng Qixi Festival not too long ago. Did either of you know about this?”Lan Zhan shakes his head.“Despite disguising himself he was still recognised. Those who haven’t seen him since he went into seclusion were shocked at his appearance. They say he was as pale as a ghost, like the life was being drained out of him. They also say that he was escorted back to the Jiang residence by Jiang Cheng himself.” Nie Huaisang looks directly at Wei Wuxian, who still cannot hear past the rage—the sheer, terrified rage, that this is really what people are thinking. “Do you know what that looks like?”“But they are jumping to far too many conclusions here.” Wei Wuxian lets out a hoarse laugh. “On what basis would Jiang Cheng need to... to do that, if he already has my core?”“There are lots of theories about core transplants. Some think they will only last a certain length of time in the recipient before they need replacing—”“Bullshit!”He throws the table into the adjacent wall. Everything goes flying.Lan Zhan grabs him, but Wei Wuxian isn’t listening. He sags in his arms, a litany of sobs falling out of him. This is too much.What if Jiang Cheng hears about this? It would destroy him—and what about his reputation? If it’s believed that he’s attempting to steal the core of someone like Zewu-Jun, he would be ruined forever. His punishment would be execution (which might be a kindness, considering how he will view life after such an accusation), and his sect would all be seen as complicit in this too.Blame the leader, blame the sect. A crime as serious as this would surely be Yunmeng Jiang’s downfall. What a clever plot this is. Two birds, one stone. Make Jiang Cheng the culprit and Lan Xichen the victim, thus taking both of them out of the running. “Everything here is all about perspective. After Jin Guangyao’s true colours were revealed, it only made everything worse for the rest of us. Tell a lie once and all your truths become questionable, but the same applies to having a secret exposed—especially one as old as what happened to your core."Even if Jiang Cheng was not aware of it himself, he instantly became questionable too by proxy. And it’s so easy after that,” Nie Huaisang sighs, “To assume that from all of this, that Jiang Cheng is just as power-hungry and scheming as… well as Jin Guangyao.” He pauses. “And me too, I suppose. Only to the second part though.” “How do we stop this?” Lan Zhan asks. “What can be done?”“My promotion will be announced soon which will divert attention away from Jiang Cheng for a while. If Xichen-ge is really as unwell as the rumours claim, then I wouldn’t want to pressure him into making an appearance. It might actually do more harm to have him be seen in his condition. Unless…” he trails off, staring at Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian immediately follows and latches onto the idea from pure desperation—from wanting (needing) to laugh at something to chase this pain away.Suddenly he pictures it: Lan Zhan smiling at everyone, chatting willingly with others and... and Lan Zhan smiling. He snorts but shakes his head. Lan Zhan would be too uncomfortable. It would never work. If there’s one thing Lan Zhan isn’t good at, it’s roleplaying. (Wei Wuxian can personally attest to this.)“If not that... then another thing that might help would be to limit how much time Jiang Cheng spends with Xichen-ge. For the time being at least.”Lan Zhan nods, and Wei Wuxian reluctantly agrees. He knows his brother has formed something of a friendship with the First Jade, which is so rare that he would hate to separate the two… but if it’s to stop this rumour gaining any more momentum, then it needs to be done.Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “This is all such nonsense. I don’t understand it. I understand that Jiang Cheng has a strong personality, and I understand that not everyone might like him, but to go this far to hurt him—”“It’s not really about him though, Wei-xiong. Try to remember that.”“Isn’t it? You say it’s about me though, why not him? If people are so determined to hail me as their hero, they’re just as willing to cast him as the villain. And what—make Brother Xichen the victim?" He laughs helplessly. "Lan Zhan, does it make any sense to you?”“You really have no idea, do you?” Nie Huaisang mutters. “The type of things people are saying. Let me tell you, you’re basically an icon for the rags-to-riches plot. The most beloved story of a commoner who rose to fame. Not only that but you and Hanguang-Jun, despite being cut-sleeves, have become one of the greatest love stories of our time. Some even compare you to the Butterfly Lovers for crying out loud!"They admire Hanguang-Jun’s perseverance, and they commend you for being worthy of his devotion! These days, people are starting to talk more about Wei Wuxian than Yiling Laozu, and about how noble and brave he really is…”What is there to say to that? He’s never put much stock into his reputation, but in a way, he’s relieved that he’s no longer besmirching his husband’s good name. Lan Zhan doesn’t seem too bothered by the fact that they’ve become the benchmark for romance, but Wei Wuxian is quite honestly baffled.“Compared to you two, it’s hard to look at Jiang Cheng with any sympathy—hey! Just to clarify, I’m saying this from their point of view, not mine!” he quickly adds when Wei Wuxian picks up a broken cup (he was just going to put it aside??). “But you get it, don't you? Although I like Jiang-xiong just as much as you, the fact that he puts no effort into making himself likeable makes it difficult for people to empathise with him. When has 'Sect Leader Jiang' ever shown any inclination towards making friends?”He’s making one now, Wei Wuxian wants to say, but then reconsiders because Lan Xichen is really an anomaly in every way. Considering the timing of things, the fact that they’ve grown close is something no one could have seen coming. They're like night and day, those two. And yet... I’ve never had a friend like you. Jiang Cheng had said that to Lan Xichen.He'd heard him say it, and—“Him suddenly becoming close to Xichen-ge… due to his actions so far, it simply doesn’t fit with his character. I suppose that's why many suspect him of having bad intentions,” Nie Huaisang says, collapsing his fan in a jagged motion, like cutting the air with a knife. “No one wants to believe him capable of wanting such a thing just for himself.”But isn’t this what people thought of him at one point?When Yiling Laozu overtook his fame, and suddenly everything he wanted was evil and everything he did was bad. It wasn’t that long ago when the possibility of him loving someone and being loved in return was something that even he could not believe. And now they praise him for being the grandest love story of their time? Now, does that really make any sense at all?Look at Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian wants to say. Look at Lotus Pier. Look at me. The one who I gave my core to risked his life for me. Is that not proof that he has a heart? Not capable of wanting such a thing…He smashes the cup into dust. Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be offended if Lan Xichen were to burn all of his letters.As of late, each one has been a variant of: [he’s a pain in my ass; he’ll be gone from my life soon enough; what the hell do I do then?] Each one has been embarrassing and whiny and revealed far too much about his mental state for his comfort. But despite his expectations, each one received a warm response of: [he can’t be that bad; he will always be your nephew; then you'll look back and cherish every moment.] In his opinion, Lan Xichen truly has the patience of a saint.He bites back a sigh. It’s never a good idea to open your mouth whilst flying on a sword (which he learnt the hard way growing up), but there’s just something about sighing when your heart is heavy that feels like you’re allowing yourself to really feel that weight.As he soars behind Jin Ling, the flash of his gold sword keeps drawing his eye. Somehow, it feels like the summer has passed too quickly, but that’s what it’s always like when autumn comes. With everything dead or dying, he looks back on long days he spent listening to three boys gallivanting around the Pier.Even as he remembers it now… he knows that this day marks the beginning of an irreversible change....of course, Jin Ling left all of his packing until the last minute, which was why the past few weeks have been utter madness. Jin Ling suddenly became a one-man hurricane, whizzing around and leaving destruction in his wake (and driving him mad with all his frazzled panicking).It was only thanks to Jingyi (surprisingly enough) that he stopped, and under Sizhui’s guidance (no surprise there) that the three worked together to pack all the shit Jin Ling was planning on bringing with him.Jiang Cheng had assumed, at the time, that he hadn’t just been packing for Gusu, but for Lanling as well… only to find himself mistaken. When he’d come to check his progress, he’d scoffed at the sheer number of crates. “What’s this,” he’d asked, plucking Jin Ling’s writing set off the desk, “You’re not taking this with you? And these (opening the wardrobe, still full of clothes)... A-Ling, why are you being so careless? Do you think you can leave this for someone else to do? That’s not how I raised you—”“Can’t I keep them here?”Jiang Cheng had stopped, arms stuffed with clothes. “Keep them here?”“Yeah, it’ll save me having to bring clothes with me each time.” Bring clothes… each time? Jin Ling had frowned at him then. “Jiujiu, don’t tell me you’re kicking me out? That’s so stingy! I’ll give you a room at Lanling, but only if you let me keep mine. I want everything to stay where I put them—”“But you… you’re coming back?”In hindsight, it had been a pretty stupid question to ask (and now that Jiang Cheng thinks about it, he agrees he might have been a little… pessimistic).But in his defence, Jin Ling had told him that he would be making Lanling his primary residence after his studies. He would assume leading his sect properly then, and he wanted… he expected Jiang Cheng to not treat him like a little kid after that. All of which all made it seem like he was planning to move out (and move on from him) for good, so—“Yes?” Jin Ling had said, cocking his head like a bird. Crossing his arms, he looked just like his father. “Why wouldn’t I?”Why? Because he’d thought… he’d thought that Jin Ling didn’t need him anymore. In which case, what would he return here for? “Because you’ll be busy,” he’d answered instead, turning back to organise the clothes. “I’m not as old as you, Uncle. I still have the energy to visit whenever I like,” Jin Ling had protested. “Unless I’m no longer welcome here? Do you not want me to come?”Jiang Cheng had dropped the shirt he was folding. “Uncle, you… why are you acting like this? All summer you’ve been avoiding me, but all summer I’ve been here. Well, except whenever you sent one of us away with your letters,” he’d muttered, (referring to the fact that the juniors have become something of an unofficial postal service between Yunmeng and Gusu.) “Is this about me moving to Lanling? Do you think that because of that I won’t want to come back here? I’d have hoped I’d still be allowed to come to see you—”“You can.” The shirt would require mending from how tightly he’d been gripping it. “Of course you can.”Jin Ling had paused, and a horrible silence fell. He'd heaved a sigh that caused Jiang Cheng's mind to come to a halt. “But you think I won't, don’t you? You think… do you really think I’m so ungrateful that I’d cut you off like that?”(Now, Jiang Cheng doesn’t. Now, as he watches Jin Ling fly far ahead, he smiles.)“But why would I? Uncle…” He’d stared at Jin Ling helplessly, watching as disbelief and hurt and confusion flit across his face. “You have given me… everything I could ever need or want.” He’d laughed curtly. “Is it any wonder I’m so spoiled?”“You…”“So why are you treating this like… like an amputation, when I’m just growing up? It doesn’t mean that I’m leaving you—”“But it does!" (The shirt ripped in half. He’d thrown one piece at Jin Ling’s stunned face.) “You... you think this is easy for me?! You're leaving, and it means that I… I have no right—”“You have the only right.”Jin Ling had walked up to him right then, and it struck Jiang Cheng that he was level with his chin. (When did he get so tall?)“I’m old enough to recognise the sacrifices you’ve made for me. What right do I have to ask more from you? And yet,” he’d chuckled, “I will ask, because I’m spoiled, Uncle. Because I always want more. I want to come back here every summer. I want to bring you back the greatest hunts. I want to always ask for your advice, and for you to threaten to break my legs later on when I ignore it...” Jiang Cheng had recoiled when he’d reached up towards his face.“I want us to live our lives separately, but for my path and your path to never be too far apart.” (It was A-Jie he’d saw and heard right then. The hand wiping his tears, his eyes and voice and tender heart. All of it was her, but all of it was also him.) “I also think it’s time that you tried living for something else. You're not so old that your life is already over. It's never too late to try something new. When I return, I want there to be something else in your life other than work and me. Something that’s just for you.”He’s not sure he can find that something, but for Jin Ling, he’ll try.(Which is a contradictory thing to promise, he knows, but Jiang Cheng mentally shrugs.)Waiting ahead is a year full of Gusu Lan teaching, and all the extra lessons he and Lan Xichen have prepared for him to learn. Jin Ling will probably hate him when he realises how much work he’s got to do and that he has him to blame for that… or maybe not, Jiang Cheng thinks, catching the bright grin Jin Ling shoots him with a wildly beating heart. They land together on the mountainside.“We’ll celebrate at Lotus Pier,” he says, passing his token to the patrol guard. "When you graduate," he explains when Jin Ling frowns. "A big feast."Jin Ling nods, “It’ll be summer again, so of course I’ll be there.”“You better not run around all crazy like you did this year,” he warns. “You and those Lans, driving me mad with all your giggling—”“But what’s the point of him coming and not causing trouble for us, sir?” Minzhen muses. “If you ask me, it’d be more worrying than not if he were to be quiet…”Linzhen, “A-Ling, when you come over bring those Lan boys with you. I like the way they talk.”Jiang Cheng ignores all of them. The two traitorous women either side of him and the ungrateful nephew nodding along with his ‘aunties’. Instead, he fixes his gaze on the white figure standing on the steps, a sense of much-needed calm washing over him when the First Jade waves at him. “Sect Leader Lan,” he says with a fist-palm salute, nodding politely to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji as well. “Oh? What happened to Xichen-ge?”“…”“You know that you’re welcome to call me that too, don't you?” Lan Xichen says, eyes twinkling when Wei Wuxian coughs loudly. …So much for feeling relieved! Jiang Cheng huffs but grudgingly agrees that if Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang can call him Xichen-ge, it shouldn’t be a big deal for him either. He watches Jin Ling run off as soon as the boys turn up to greet him, the Spiders trailing behind to soak up all of that Gusu Lan accent before they have to leave. It still feels bittersweet watching him walk away, but… now it’s manageable. The hand on his back makes him jump, but then Lan Xichen says, “This way, Wanyin,” and leads him to a small pavilion, where the table has already been set. For five minutes he enjoys himself.Five sacred minutes where he gets to enjoy being served hot tea, putting his feet up after travelling for hours, and simply taking in the haunting beauty of the mountains shedding their summer leaves and cloaking themselves in autumn mists. With most of the trees left bare, the ground is thickly blanketed in orange and brown, and skies above are pale and grey—Without looking, he yells, “Wei Wuxian! Stop bullying Jin Ling and come drink your tea!”The scenery would be perfect and serene without all the squawking in the background, but he digresses… the Second Jade makes room beside himself when Wei Wuxian runs back covered in leaves. Whilst he dutifully tidies up the walking disaster, he calmly turns to Jiang Cheng and says: “No shouting. Language.”It isn’t the worst interaction they’ve ever had, so Jiang Cheng merely mumbles an apology.“But Jiang Cheng, I don’t want tea! I want to beat Jin Ling up—do you see that? He got taller! Lan Zhan, do you see this? A-Yuan, come over here! Come help your father seek revenge!” Off he goes, and Lan Wangji naturally follows, presumably to keep things from going too far (one hopes). He can’t help but notice that Wei Wuxian doesn’t get a scolding. The privileges of favouritism here, at its finest. At least he doesn’t have to copy out the rules anymore. Punishments for bad behaviour don't usually tend to extend to include guests (to his endless relief).“How is Wanyin doing so far?” Lan Xichen asks gently, a cool breeze bringing sandalwood to the fore. “Alright. And you?” “Same.”Feeling his headache starting to wane, Jiang Cheng sits up. “Everything's sorted then?”The laugh should sound mocking. From anyone else it would. “You know it is. Together, we have every week... no, every single day planned. Scheduled almost to the hour, just how you like it.”“Mm.”“May I ask… well I’ve asked before, but this is so important to you. Remind me why?”He knows Lan Xichen is checking him for something but answers nevertheless: “It’s one of the last things I can provide for him that he will allow.”“I’m sure you don’t need his permission to lend him a hand where you see fit.”It might not be appreciated, and it may do more harm than good, he thinks, remembering his own grandmother in Meishan Yu, and how they had decided together what help they could give him. It was limited. Everything came with a price (though not from the family) from outside opinions. If it was seen that he was relying too much on his mother's clan for support, it would make Yunmeng Jiang appear weak.He had to stand on his own two feet, even if his back was breaking from the weight of all that he was carrying.The same applies here for Jin Ling, which he was very aware of.Jiang Cheng turns just in time to catch Wei Wuxian shoving Jin Ling into a pile of leaves. The Lans stand off to the side, possibly wary of the fact that in a leaf-fight there’s no chance of avoiding mud (Although, Jingyi has a look in his eye that suggests he wants in. Sizhui has a firm grip on the back of his belt precisely for this reason.).“Wanyin?”“I want him to have a good time here. I want to give him something…” (The wedding shines in Jiang Cheng’s mind, perfect in its madness. Red clad everything, butterflies. A bell, a sword, a smile.) “People always remember endings. I would have his childhood end on a high note.”Lan Xichen shifts forwards. “Why must it end?”“Everything has to end sometime. But I would… I would rather become a fond memory to them, than risk overstaying my welcome.”If there’s anything he’s passed down to Jin Ling, it would be his sense of pride. That raucous laughter that rings out over the mountains has him closing his eyes. Years ago, it would’ve been him jumping in the leaves with his brother. Today it would’ve been too, but he hadn’t the heart to.“May I ask you something else?”He hums. “Why are you being so stupid?” Jiang Cheng’s eyes open at this. “Excuse me?”“Speaking as though your worth was calculable by merit. Wanyin, really... that is your brother (It’s then that he realises he said ‘them’). That is your nephew. They care more about you than what you can provide for them.”Before he can respond to that, two disciples bring a platter of dishes. There aren’t such things as snacks at the Cloud Recesses, only bland meals—which is why Jiang Cheng is surprised by the size of each plate, which is snack-sized. The main theme is white. White tofu, white porridge, white cabbage. The only colour is from the bright yellow egg yolks. That is only on Lan Xichen’s tray though.On his tray are the same things except with more vegetables. More everything in fact. It’s then that Jiang Cheng notices something.He’s never actually seen Lan Xichen eat anything at all, in all the time that they’ve been conversing. Not even at the wedding banquet. He claims he had the lotus pork rib soup (and enjoyed it), but… even now, Lan Xichen sips his tea and doesn’t touch his chopsticks. Jiang Cheng mastered the method of leading by example a long time ago with a very young Jin Ling. He ate more vegetables in his nephew’s first few years than he’d probably eaten his entire life, all to convince the stubborn young master that 'icky vegetables' were truly delicious. Even though he isn’t very hungry, he grabs the porridge and starts shovelling it down his throat.It’s scalding hot, of course.“You should have let it cool first,” Lan Xichen chuckles, passing him a napkin. “I knew that.” He should be used to making a fool of himself in front of this man by now, but alas... here he is, a sputtering, wheezing mess. Jiang Cheng swiftly moves past his embarrassment onto his next tactic. “I don’t like pickled tofu. Here, take mine.”“Do not be picky about food.”“Enough with your goddamn rules. I’m not the one who came to study. Here,” he insists, holding his plate out. When Lan Xichen does nothing, he scoops some onto his plate. “Eat.”It’s like suddenly discovering a stain on a piece of clothing he’s been wearing for days.Seeing Lan Xichen not eat and realising that this might be the reason… the reason why his cheekbones are so much more defined, and his jaw sharp enough to cut stone. (How did he not notice this?) He’s been visiting often enough and seen Lan Xichen every time—sat with him for hours and seen only his smile, the gleam in his eyes whenever he wins an argument, the way he tenses up when he practices speaking out of turn…But how could he not have noticed this?On top of that, though he said that he's feeling the same as Jiang Cheng, as in 'alright', now that he's looking at him Jiang Cheng wonders if he's lying.That's also technically against the rules, but Lan Xichen has a bad habit of smiling through all sorts of emotions. Now that he's looking, he sees a slight tenseness around the corners of his eyes, and he... he just gets the feeling that something has spooked him rather badly. Enough that whatever it is, it's still there lingering in his mind—“Xichen-ge.”Lan Xichen winks at Jiang Cheng before turning around, “That’s my name.” (That smile he’s wearing... Jiang Cheng can’t help but scowl.) “Ah, Young Master Wei. How might I help?”Wei Wuxian’s gaze flickers between them a few times, his serious expression at odds with the dirt smeared all over his face. “Just brought you some tea.”“I already have some here, thank you.”“This is a special blend,” he says, setting the teapot down. Wei Wuxian steps backwards, glancing briefly at his husband. (From this behaviour alone, were it not for the fact that Wei Wuxian should know better (should know, being the key part) than to play a prank on the First Jade, Jiang Cheng would have confiscated the tea. Lan Wangji would not allow it either, so here he takes his silence as approval.)Wei Wuxian pours Lan Xichen a cup, and then says, “Jiang Cheng, can we talk?”He’s about to say, “not now,” but then the choice is taken out of his hands. Wei Wuxian literally drags him out of his seat, but before he can get any further, a tall figure blocks their path. Jiang Cheng detaches himself smoothly, standing upright to properly greet Lan Qiren with a bow. The man returns this greeting and then (surprisingly) nods at Wei Wuxian, who... who still isn’t smiling, Jiang Cheng notes with a frown.“Wangji… what’s in this tea?”The slight quiver in his voice catches Jiang Cheng’s attention. The Jades this time are truly identical. Lan Xichen’s face wiped clean of any emotion, just like his brother’s. That in itself means he must be feeling deeply troubled by something though. He's come to realise that when Lan Xichen is truly overwhelmed with a thought or feeling, instead of emoting outwardly he completely shuts down.“Just drink it, Xichen,” Lan Qiren says, striding over to the table. “It’s good for you.”“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian tugs at his sleeve again, but now he isn’t listening.Lan Xichen looks at the cup and sets it down. “I don’t recognise these herbs. Where did they come from?”There is nothing outwardly threatening about the situation, but Jiang Cheng finds himself walking back to the table. Lan Xichen's behaviour is ringing all sorts of bells. Without saying a word, he returns to his previous seat and takes the cup to sniff it. The smell isn’t familiar to him either, but he knows the smell of most poisons. There's nothing like that in it then.(Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Lans would never harm their own, especially not their most beloved Zewu-Jun. Why then did the thought even cross his mind?)“It’s a gift from Nie Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian says. Jiang Cheng’s stomach clenches. A special blend… to combat qi deviation?Lan Xichen must be thinking along the same lines, but instead of responding peaceably, he leans further away from the table. Subconsciously, Jiang Cheng finds himself mirroring this action. “A gift for me? Why then did I not receive it first?”“Xichen, stop asking questions. You're being unreasonable.”“I’m not being unreasonable. I just want to know what it’s for.”Watching this, Jiang Cheng gets the feeling this is something that has happened before. Perhaps even something that happens quite often. Jiang Cheng remembers his own failed attempt to feed Lan Xichen and wonders if this tea (this medicine, probably) is another thing he refuses to take. He’s almost about to encourage Lan Xichen to just drink the damn thing when Lan Xichen purses his lips...And he remembers how he walked himself to exhaustion at the festival. How he talks with him for hours, even if it ends with his throat going hoarse, and writes a similar length response to every one of his letters. Lan Xichen does not like to be told to do things.More than that, being reminded that he is sick—having it pointed out to him, is something Jiang Cheng tries not to do. Jiang Cheng cannot imagine anyone forcing him to take medicine (save for the Spiders, though the threat of them doing so is usually enough to convince him ahead of time). He also cannot fathom how Lan Xichen is coping with all this without losing composure, because if it had been him...If he were the one losing his strength and being treated like an invalid, he’d be losing his temper every goddamn second of the day. Handling it with this much grace must be something only a Lan can do.Or only someone as patient as Lan Xichen.Now as he stares at the teacup, something occurs to him. Whatever this tea is, it should be Lan Xichen’s choice whether he drinks it or not.“Tell him,” he hears himself say. It seems everyone forgot he was there, or—no, Lan Xichen knew. He shoots Jiang Cheng a grateful look and then turns to his brother. But of course, instead of him speaking Wei Wuxian answers, “Huaisang said it would help regulate your qi flow.”Jiang Cheng, “Did Nie Mingjue take it?” Others would not dare speak of either of his fallen brothers to Lan Xichen, but Jiang Cheng knows it’s not really a problem for him. They’ve talked enough for him to know that Lan Xichen is not that fragile as to shatter at the mere mention of their names.“I don’t know—”“I don’t recognise it,” Lan Xichen repeats, still looking straight at his brother. “Wangji.”Lan Wangji, “It regulates qi by reducing mood fluctuations and numbing sensations.”“Reducing mood fluctuations?” Jiang Cheng echoes dubiously. “Numbing sensations?”“Suppresses emotions, reduces pain,” Lan Wangji doesn’t blink. The staring match continues. “But it’s temporary.”Lan Xichen stands.“Xichen, come now,” Lan Qiren takes the teacup and follows him as he leaves—in fact, they all do. Jiang Cheng shakes his brother’s hand off, eyes fixed on the rigid line of Lan Xichen’s shoulders. Something's not right. The hairs on the back of his neck are all upright. “Xichen, take your medicine and stop complaining!”“I will not take it.”“Stop being a child—”“He’s not being a child. He’s making a decision.” Jiang Cheng knows he has no place to stand here, but he… but there’s a big difference between telling a person to rest and forcing them to take medicine. He just wants Lan Xichen to turn around. To face them properly. He wants the others to leave him the fuck alone and back off for a second. Can’t they tell that something is wrong?“Brother—”“I said no!” Finally, he turns, but oh… his face is chalk-white. His eyes are bloodshot, his lips red from being bitten. Lan Xichen shudders, shutting his eyes. “I… I don’t have qi deviation, so I don’t need to take something, even if it’s for the pain. Even if it hurts, I... I still want to be able to feel.” “But didn’t you say you felt dreadful?” Lan Qiren clicks his tongue. “What nonsense. All of this... I’ve had enough of it! If you don’t want to get better, don’t take the medicine then! Wangji, come,” he says sharply, “We’ve waited too long on this.”Lan Wangji’s eyes widen. “Uncle, there’s still time. We should consider—” “We’ve waited long enough! The time for making plans is long overdue…”Jiang Cheng stops hearing things right then. Right when Lan Qiren says ‘making plans’. It’s as though his mind narrows down to those two words, and suddenly all he can see is… is himself making plans. Arranging for his parents’ names to be added to the ancestral tablets, planning the procession for Lotus Pier’s annual memorial service every year. Making investments, and going through countless matchmaking lists to no avail. Writing promises and commitments for Jin Ling to inherit and uphold upon the event of his untimely...But they can’t be talking about that.That can’t be what they’re saying.
Making plans?
“Jiang Cheng, calm down!”When he returns to himself, he’s holding a smashed teacup, shards of red-spattered porcelain scattered everywhere. Wei Wuxian is clinging to his elbow, and Lan Xichen is gasping for breath. “How dare you,” Jiang Cheng rasps, shaking blood off his hand. “You speak of ‘making plans’ as though he is incapable of making them for himself! Does he not get a choice in anything anymore? Who is the Sect Leader here? Who is the one living his life?” Jiang Cheng slams a hand down, snapping the table in two. “You speak of righteousness in this sect, and yet you deny this man his right to make his own decisions!”“Hey now,” Wei Wuxian says, “We’re all on the same side here—” But he is too far away. The whole world has become a blur of panic, the stink of despair mixed with bitter herbs, and a terrifying possibility that Jiang Cheng refuses to think about. He fixes his gaze on Lan Qiren, whose face almost matches the colour of Jiang Cheng’s robes.Jiang Cheng, “Morality is priority. Make sure to act virtuously.”“You... you dare recite the rules to me? Impertinence! Sect Leader Jiang—”His voice grows louder. “Be just. Be generous.”“He’s not listening, is he? Wei Wuxian, you deal with this—”“Be ethical. Be respectful,” he says, locking eyes with a wide-eyed Lan Xichen. “Earn trust. Be loyal.”Then someone moves, blocking that sight. The Second Jade bars his view. Somewhere he registers the Spiders grabbing him by the arms. The blood roars in Jiang Cheng’s ears, and purple light spills from his fingers.Out of nowhere, his bell starts ringing, louder and louder, rising with his pulse.Now he’s fit for battle. Sometimes Jingyi thinks things like... if I wasn’t part of this sect, I could jump in leaf-piles. Then he’ll remember that he did jump in leaf-piles all the time with Sizhui when they were little. They’d strip themselves to their undergarments and (try to) wash up afterwards in the river, but the dirt would get everywhere. They’d get in trouble for it of course, but at least he got to experience that joy before punishment became a proper thing.Jingyi hates getting dirty of course, but sometimes it's unavoidable if you want to have fun. Also, it's part of the job to be covered in guts and gore. He learned that ages ago too, but at the festival—ahhhh, at the festival he got so sticky from all the sweets.It was almost as fun as Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun’s wedding.He still thinks about it from time to time and has made plans to go back next year. Obviously he’d read about the myth of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl ages before they went, but listening to it again whilst being fed countless tasty treats… was nice. The whole thing had been really nice. (Aside from the drunkenness (which he doesn’t remember) and the hangover (which he does), of course.)He almost falls out of his chair when Jin Ling bursts in. He’s still got dirt and leaves in his hair! They took him to his room to clean up, but apparently—oh no, no, no, he can't come in here like this! The boy snorts and strides straight into the library. Jingyi squawks, “No making mess in the library!” making a shooing motion, but then Jin Ling marches past and sticks his head out of the window. Whilst shaking himself like a dog, he casually asks, “So what have you two been—oh sorry. I didn’t see you there, Ouyang-xiong.” Ouyang Zizhen flaps a hand at Jin Ling, too caught up in his book. “What have you three been up to whilst I was gone?”Sizhui goes to help the Young Mistress pick leaves out of his hair. He probably doesn’t trust JingYi to help without getting dirty too. Jingyi sighs, catching a dry leaf and twirling it.“Reading,” Ouyang Zizhen answers for all of them.“Reading? Ha, you nerds. What have you been reading then?" Jin Ling pauses, then goes: "Ohhh, you mean the research?”Part of it is the research.Jingyi has spent the rest of the summer (or what time he did not spend in Lotus Pier) with his nose buried in books. It was not just medical tomes and cultivation scriptures he'd been reading. He’s been re-reading all of his childhood favourites, each swooning romance and swashbuckling adventure greeting him like an old friend. He also looked for that one myth, just to refresh his memory, and then he dipped into the Lan family records.All of this was guided by a single fleeting idea that.... Jingyi admits, does sound rather bizarre, even to his own ears.When he proposed his theory to Sizhui, and even to Hanguang-Jun, to his disappointment he was shot down immediately. But his heart is set on this idea. He feels it guiding him, like a map made from the stars. Describing it like this did not help his case at all (especially with Sizhui, who has dubbed him 'a hopeless dreamer', the hypocrite).Of course, Sizhui was naturally a willing participant throughout all of this and has been diligently trying to keep Jingyi on track.Though he’s admitted that ‘on track’ doesn’t seem to have a logical direction. Fiction cannot possibly mix with facts, stories simply have no place in the real world. This eclectic assortment of things Jingyi keeps shoving into his face makes no sense at all together, or at least make no sense to his eyes. At least Ouyang Zizhen is enjoying himself.Jingyi told him earlier on, when he first arrived at the Cloud Recesses (and was bullied into partaking in this ‘research group’), that this was all a case of ‘the blind men and the elephant’, to which he received a very blank look.Ouyang Zizhen really needed to expand his reading beyond love-stories (and this was Jingyi saying so). Now, as they fill Jin Ling in on what he’s missed, Jin Ling scoffs at the elephant comparison, causing Ouyang Zizhen to scratch his head, and consider whether he really is that ignorant not to know what the hell they're all talking about.“''The blind men' is a parable,” a little voice squeaks.All four boys nearly jump out of their skins. They’d completely forgotten Ouyang. Not Ouyang Zizhen but Lan Ouyang. Immediately they spot a problem here. Jingyi sticks his hands on his hips, and then points at his junior, “Xiao[2] Ouyang, tell your Ouyang-xiong what you mean.”Xiao Ouyang obediently tells his senior the parable of the blind men and the elephant: how the first time when a group of blind men came across the creature, they didn’t even know what it was, and as each one felt a different part of the body and tried to describe it, their descriptions were completely different. Thus their disagreements led them to start fighting.“The moral is that we tend to base our knowledge on our own limited experiences and ignore other possible accounts which may be equally true,” he explains.“Good job, shidi,” Sizhui praises.“So what does that have to do with this,” Ouyang says, gesturing at their notes.“What I mean by the elephant parable is that what we’re doing here is, in fact, relevant to us helping Zewu-Jun, though no one wants to agree with me. I believe it might even be important as what Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun are doing, whenever they go off exploring. The problem here is that they aren’t telling us what they’re finding, and when I tried showing Hanguang-Jun what we’d found—”Sizhui, “Which still doesn’t make any sense.”“Yes, thank you Sizhui. I did tell him that it still doesn't make much sense, but then he told me I should be focusing on my studies instead of this. What nonsense! This is a priority. What we should be doing is putting our heads together, comparing notes, keeping an open mind, and not rejecting every possibility that comes our way. To do so would leave very little left for us to work with."Hanguang-Jun dismissed my theory as nonsense, but I bet that’s just because he thinks I’m a child. What right do you have though, Sizhui?" he demands. "Betraying me like that. What kind of a Mini First Jade are you—”“You have yet to say what your theory is, which makes me think you found the elephant’s ass, for how secretive you’re being,” Jin Ling says. “What, are you shy? Don’t want to share with the class?”“Sizhui has also banned me from saying anything,” Jingyi sulks. “He says I will be copying rules till the end of time if Teacher hears a word of it.”“That bad, huh.”“Jin Ling, should we prepare Senior Jiang a room as well?” Sizhui cuts in smoothly. “He hasn’t said anything about staying—”“Why are you calling him 'Senior Jiang', Sizhui? Aren’t we on more familiar terms with him now?” Jingyi teases. “And as for preparing him a room, do you really think he needs our help finding one anymore?”Sizhui immediately turns red, prompting Jin Ling to demand what they both mean by that. As both he and Ouyang heckle the poor boy until he spills, neither notice Xiao Ouyang also starting to turn an alarming shade of puce.Two weeks ago, Jiang Cheng came to the Cloud Recesses. No one was too surprised to see him since he had become something of a regular visitor, and because he has a jade token he can pretty much come and go whenever he likes. In fact, during that visit, no one even knew he’d come by until Xiao Ouyang was found fast-walking (“Not running!”) to the kitchens for refreshments.What happened afterwards wasn’t anything too drastic. In fact, nothing happened at all, but thanks to the gossiping junior juniors and an innocent misunderstanding, things got bent hilariously out of shape. Jingyi mentions that they are all somewhat aware that Jiang Cheng mostly spends his time with Zewu-Jun in the hanshi, and if interrupted both of them will often be found painting and chatting together—(Jin Ling interrupts here, shocked to hear his uncle doing something as… as ‘sedentary’ as painting in his free time! He claims that “Uncle cannot sit down for too long. His old bones need to be kept active. How can it be that he’s content to paint for hours?”Jingyi explains that, well… what else can Zewu-Jun do at the moment? Right now he hasn’t the energy to do anything too strenuous, so they end up doing these things together. Somehow that only seems to augment Jin Ling’s confusion.)During this visit, however, whilst he and Sizhui had been assisting Lan Qiren with organising accommodation for the prospective guest disciples, Xiao Ouyang was spotted running past the window. Not fast-walking. Running. And with a smile on his face no less! Of course, Teacher had stopped him immediately, demanding what the reason was for this.Xiao Ouyang got flustered, and well, now in hindsight, Jingyi has been told that Xiao Ouyang was simply excited because he's come to admire Jiang Cheng greatly, and he’d been overjoyed to be praised (“Praised?” Jin Ling screeches. “No making loud noise—!” “Senior Jiang said he was glad to see that Ouyang is no longer a stuttering mouse,” Sizhui explains calmly.) by him.Then Teacher asked where Jiang Cheng was, why he’d not announced himself properly, etcetera etcetera. (Was it really necessary by this point? No, it was not.) Jingyi had had to bite his tongue not to say this, and they'd watched Xiao Ouyang bite his lip nervously, and then he said—“It was an accident!” Xiao Ouyang wails suddenly.“Tell him what you told us,” Jingyi demands, slapping Sizhui repeatedly in excitement. “Go on!”“Zewu-Jun has said before that activities like calligraphy and painting are good for refining qi, and should, therefore, be treated as a form of cultivation,” Sizhui explains firstly, Xiao Ouyang shooting him a grateful (almost tearful) look. “Xiao Ouyang merely misunderstood what he meant by this.”“Tell Jin Ling what you said,” Jingyi insists.“That S… Senior Jiang and Ze-Zewu-Jun were… were—”“Speak up. We can't hear you.”“THAT SENIOR JIANG AND ZEWU-JUN WERE CULTIVATING TOGETHER!!”Deafening silence. Jingyi is doing something he’s discovered is called ‘silent laughing’, where the laughter is so strong that it chokes him. Jin Ling is wearing the most magnificent scowl he’s ever seen, and poor Xiao Ouyang is… well, he’s basically unresponsive. Sizhui slaps his forehead and then slaps Jingyi's too. Ouyang Zizhen slowly lowers his book.Jin Ling, “Dual… dual—”“That’s what he said!” Jingyi exclaims gleefully, tumbling off his chair sideways. Sizhui sighs, catching him by the collar. “And then he, and then—”And then, of course, Lan Qiren marched them all straight to the hanshi and threw open the (recently repaired) door... only to find the two Sect Leaders fully dressed, mid-conversation, and rather taken aback by their untimely interruption. Lan Qiren had slammed the door shut immediately. “I AM AT A LOSS FOR WORDS!” he’d roared.Jingyi, “Despite being at a loss for words, he continued to yell at us for what… fifteen minutes?[3]”Jin Ling (impatiently), “And then?” And then he (Jingyi) was dragged away for his standard punishment for laughing inappropriately, and Xiao Ouyang was made to do handstands for four hours.That evening at dinner, Jiang Cheng had been extremely confused by the strange mood the junior juniors (and juniors) were all in, as well as by Lan Qiren’s even more aloof than usual demeanour. Later, as he and Sizhui escorted him to his room for the night, Jingyi told him they'd been punished (but wisely refused to say what for).To their surprise, Jiang Cheng had been quite sympathetic to Jingyi’s plight.He'd commented on how long aching wrist and arms would take to recover from, and then talked with them about his own experience as a disciple suffering Gusu Lan’s infamous punishments. Jingyi had assumed that him being uncharacteristically sociable was down to his time with Zewu-Jun (and had to bite his cheek not to laugh at that thought!), whilst Sizhui simply remarked that he was very glad Jiang Cheng was enjoying his visit and thanked him for his advice. Which was when, due to the fact that they were both indeed, much more comfortable around Jiang Cheng (than they'd ever been before), Sizhui boldly asked him if he could—“Really, it’s not that funny,” Sizhui blurts, shoving Jingyi away when he giggles. “After all…”Jingyi, “After all, after all, you’re quite right! If Senior Wei is his brother, then naturally he's—”“Forgive me, Jin Ling,” Sizhui says, blushing, “But technically Senior Jiang is my uncle too now.”“…”Jingyi (delightedly), “But what did you ask him? Say it properly!” What Sizhui had asked was whether he should refer to Jiang Cheng as shushu or jiujiu—“You can’t call him that,” Jin Ling says immediately. “He’s my jiujiu.”“That’s what I said too,” Jingyi agrees, nodding vigorously. Sizhui, “In my defence, it’s sometimes complicated when you have two fathers (He ignores Jingyi's “How is it confusing? Doesn't Senior Wei say...” comment). What actual relation does Senior Jiang have to me through Senior Wei? That is the type of thing I have to consider.”Jiang Cheng had been made sincerely speechless by the request (he had in fact turned as red as most of the juniors are right now, but not out of rage, thankfully). Under Jingyi’s helpful guidance they’d agreed on shushu, and then… then Jiang Cheng was the one to leave Jingyi stunned and stuttering, when he casually added that he could call him that as well if he wanted!“I think we should go say a proper greeting to our shushu.” Jingyi nudges his fellow Jade. “What do you say, Sizhui?”The eldest lets out another long-suffering sigh.And so the disciples all head out towards the pavilion.Only to find it in a complete and utter uproar. “Boss, please... calm down! Linzhen, hold him—”"I am holding him! Boss, can you hear me? Ow, ow—"“Jiujiu?” The scuffle immediately stops. Jin Ling bravely walks in front of the others. Even as Zidian hisses and sparks, he calmly approaches his uncle, merely frowning when he sees how contorted his expression is. Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem to be fully aware of himself right now, or at least until Jin Ling—“No, don’t!” Minzhen cries.He grabs his arm and Zidian instantly retracts. Purple light recedes back into Jiang Cheng.When he blinks his eyes fade from magenta back to blue. He blinks again, gasping for breath. Jin Ling squeezes once and then turns to look at the rest of them. Lan Qiren and Wei Wuxian are standing off to one side, Hanguang-Jun is a few steps away from his brother, and Zewu-Jun… Zewu-Jun is leaning heavily against the wooden post of the pavilion, looking moments away from being sick.Alarmed by this, he asks, “What happened here?”No one speaks for a moment, but then Jiang Cheng croaks out, “No plans need to be made.”“That’s not for you to decide!” Lan Qiren hisses, stamping his foot.Jingyi cannot help but gape. “Teacher—”“Lan Xichen doesn’t need them. He will be fine,” Jiang Cheng insists, speaking through his teeth. "He said so himself."Wei Wuxian mutters, “That’s really not for you to say, Jiang Cheng,” and Hanguang-Jun nods, though his gaze flicks lightning-fast between each person. Ouyang tugs at Sizhui’s sleeve, eyes wide as he stares at the First Jade. He whispers, "What’s wrong with Zewu-Jun?”Clearly Jiang Cheng hears him and whirls around. “Nothing is wrong. They're just being ridiculous. He said he was fine.”“Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian walks towards him, hands raised placatingly, “Listen to me. We’ve looked everywhere, we’ve tried everything. We aren’t giving up. No way. That's not even an option. But something needs to be done in the meantime. If we’ve ruled out all other possibilities, then a plausible reason for this might be that it's natural—”“What about the curse? What about the list?”“Enough,” Lan Qiren says, kneading his temples. “There’s no point reasoning with him. Xichen, come with me to my study. The elders have assembled a list, and both WangJi and I have screened their choices. Now it’s up to you (darting a look at Jiang Cheng) to decide on a suitable wife—”“Wife?” Jingyi exclaims, head whipping around madly. “Zewu-Jun is getting married? Since when?”Sizhui claps a hand over his friend's mouth, though he finds himself reeling from the implications.It’s easy enough to put the pieces together, and he’s always been faster at making connections than most. Hanguang-Jun most certainly will never provide the sect with an heir, and so it falls to Zewu-Jun to preserve the Lan bloodline. Regarding this, in his current condition, he may only have a small window of opportunity to ensure this happens.“That is outrageous,” Jiang Cheng says. Then he surges, shaking off both Spiders and Jin Ling. “Despicable. Have you no shame? How is it fair that you’ve not only decided what is going to happen to him, now you also get to ask this of him as well? Does he even want to marry? Have you asked him anything at all? Will you—STOP TOUCHING ME!”The Spiders stagger backwards but hover as close as they dare.Wei Wuxian snaps his hand out, ready to pull Jin Ling out of reach. “Jiang Cheng, calm yourse—”Behind them, the bushes tremble. Beneath them, the ground shakes. Then Wen Ning bursts out of the undergrowth, coming to a stop when he sees everyone gathered. He immediately checks Zewu-Jun’s location and then joins all of them in standing awkwardly in a circle. Wei Wuxian slaps his own forehead and Lan Qiren sputters. “You… you… ”All of a sudden Jiang Cheng starts laughing.It’s a chilling sound coming from him, and the first thing to cause Jin Ling to reconsider whether he wants to be standing so close to him. Zidian is glowing again, but he stands his ground and even dares to risk his hand yet again. Despite shouting don’t touch me, Jiang Cheng doesn’t react to his touch. This, he finds, is even scarier than if he had done something, but Jin Ling persists in the hope that he can somehow get through to him.Out of nowhere, Jingyi suddenly pipes up, “You know, I think Senior Wei might be right.”Beside him, Sizhui is shaking his bitten hand. He groans, “Jingyi, this really isn’t the time—”“Isn't it? Then when exactly will I be allowed to talk? No one wants to listen to me? Fine then. Let’s take what Senior Wei has to say, if his thoughts are more worthwhile, and examine it a little more closely. He said that the cause might be natural. Let’s assume that it is…”His explanation gets swallowed up in the ensuing mass-argument, where everyone starts speaking over each other and no one is listening to anyone at all. It begins as soon as he says ‘let’s assume’, with Zidian crackling threateningly and Wei Wuxian grabbing Jin Ling. Jin Ling becomes the rope in a tug-of-war, though he is the one desperately clinging onto Jiang Cheng.Within this tangle, he twists around to face his Uncle Wei. “Can’t you stop this?” he demands. “Everyone is being so stupid, making assumptions when nothing is really known! Jingyi was right. We really are blind men with an elephant—hey, jiujiu? Breathe.”“I’m trying,” he grits out. "Can no one else hear that... that fucking ringing?!"Jin Ling softens his voice, “Try listening to me instead then, Uncle. Listen to me, there is a problem that we need to face here.”Wei Wuxian watches in amazement as Jiang Cheng once again seems to regain some composure. Blinking away that purple light, and tentatively meeting Jin Ling's eyes. “Yes,” he nods. "There is."“Good, I'm glad you agree. The thing is though, being in denial about Zewu-Jun’s condition really isn’t helping—”Zidian screeches. Jin Ling flinches, especially when Jiang Cheng growls, “What do you know? You’re just a child!”Ah. This is where he lets go, or rather he shoves Jiang Cheng away. He seems to be more annoyed than upset though, crossing his arms. “Really, Uncle? Of all things to say—”“Get lost. What are you even doing here? It’s dangerous.”“I’m not leaving you until you calm down,” Jin Ling maintains, his voice nothing like what one would expect from a fifteen-year-old. (Wei Wuxian shivers. Shijie?) “Uncle, what I'm trying to say is that we need to face this. Together. All of us. Often a problem can be sorted faster when the burden is shared.”“Jin Ling is right,” Sizhui says, dodging a purple spark as he tiptoes over. The rest are still arguing, and he’s keeping one eye on a particularly irate Jingyi, but here he turns his attention to Jiang Cheng instead. “Shūshu, before rejecting anyone’s help, shouldn’t we all try to get through this together first?”This is what cuts Jiang Cheng’s strings. If anything happens can’t we manage through it together first?!He sags against Jin Ling, almost toppling him over. Wei Wuxian feels like he might just float away, caught in a similar revelation. At the same time, Jingyi springs up defiantly, hands cupped around his mouth.“Why. Is. Nobody. Listening. To. Me?” he yells, enunciating every word in an attempt to be heard above the din. He aims himself at Hanguang-Jun in particular. “I may be younger than you, but my ideas are still worth listening to! Hanguang-Jun, when will you start taking me seriously?”Once again Ouyang tugs at Sizhui’s sleeve. He shrugs him off, stumbling over to try and corral Jingyi before he gets into any more trouble, but Ouyang shadows his steps. Sizhui ducks to avoid Lan Qiren’s fierce diatribe. (Which seems to be aimed at everyone in general. In all of this, he's fallen into lecture-mode, and doesn't seem likely to surface any time soon.) Without asking, Wen Ning appears by his side. In synchrony formed from countless times having had to do this, each of them grabs one of Jingyi’s arms.“Jingyi, lower your voice,” Sizhui pleads, dragging him away from his father’s frigid stare. Glancing at him, he quickly realises that Hanguang-Jun is far away. Unlike everyone around him, he’s as unmoving as a statue and, of course, he isn’t speaking. For a man who always looks imbued with purpose, he looks horribly lost at sea. “Father?” he calls, letting Wen Ning carry Jingyi away. “Father, are you alright?”“Sizhui,” Xiao Ouyang calls desperately, tugging at his sleeve. “Shixiong please, your uncle...”“He's fine. He knows how to handle Jingyi.”“Not that uncle, your other uncle—”"What about him?" Sizhui hurriedly turns to check on Jiang Cheng, but Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling are already attending him, and he just seems to be in shock. Zidian isn't even sparking anymore, so what does he—Oh. “Zewu-Jun!”His heart nearly stops.He spins around. Xiao Ouyang cries, “Zewu-Jun!”A loud thud has everyone looking.Lan Xichen has fallen.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
How many times can the same thing break your heart? As long as you love it.
“I didn’t faint.”“Oh wow. You’re actually saying that with a straight face. I’m impressed.”“I didn’t,” Lan Xichen insists without any heat. In fact, he looks like he’s holding back a grin. “I just tripped, and then I fell.”“Oh, you tripped, did you? You’re such a liar, Lan Xichen.” He watches Jiang Cheng slap a wet cloth over the man’s face, muffling the sound of his laughter. Once there’s that barrier between them however, his own smile drops off his face completely. He presses a fist to his mouth, turning to the side like he can’t bear to look. “You know... this is rather nostalgic, Wanyin.”“Nostalgic? Can you try not to be so nostalgic about such a thing? Did you forget that you were also drunk at the time?!” (Drunk? Wei Wuxian thinks, his mind whirling with the implications. How and when and why and where? What would a drunk Lan Xichen even be like?!)“I remember, but then you took care of me.”“Yes, and you were a pain to deal with!” Jiang Cheng’s tone would sound harsh to anyone else, but despite Lan Xichen not replying, even from the doorway he seems to radiate amusement. “But about earlier,” Jiang Cheng says suddenly. “I lost my temper, and for that I am sorry.”Lan Xichen huffs and clumsily reaches out, running a hand along the edge of the mattress till it meets the top of Jiang Cheng’s head, which he then pats a few times. Jiang Cheng bites his knuckle, face contorting as he endures this affection.“It’s alright,” Lan Xichen says. “It’s good to know that Jiang Wanyin isn’t only a master of dramatic entrances, but also dramatic lecturing. You really do know the rules by heart. Maybe Uncle should even ask you for some tips, though perhaps…” a snigger escapes him, “Perhaps breaking the table was a little too much.”Jiang Cheng barks out a laugh, twisting around to smack the man. The force is barely anything, yet Wei Wuxian inhales sharply on instinct. They handle him almost like glass these days, hardly daring to touch him, and yet… of course, Jiang Cheng slaps him! After sobering up a little, Jiang Cheng mutters, “You’re probably right.”“Of course I am.” (Since when was Zewu-Jun ever this bold?!) “Come now, Wanyin, will you please stop blaming yourself? Why must you do so when I do not blame you? When in fact I… I am grateful that when I could not find my voice to speak, you were still listening. Despite everything, you heard what I could not bring myself to say.”Again, the fist comes to press against Jiang Cheng’s mouth. Shaking his head slowly, the hand there adjusts smoothly, never ceasing in its movements.He exhales shakily. “Why do they not listen to you?”After a moment, Lan Xichen says, “They are worried, perhaps even afraid of what I might say.”Jiang Cheng goes utterly still. “What I say is never what they want to hear, so much so that I am almost afraid to say anything at all… but when I stop talking, then they take my silence as agreement. Then they make decisions on my behalf, and are upset when I do not cooperate…”“What is it that you want?”“What you said before. I want to make my own plans. To live my own life,” he says. “But no one agrees with what I want, and arguing about it… well after a while, it just becomes exhausting.”Jiang Cheng bites through his skin, red dripping down his blood-crusted hand.Were fear and worry not what had motivated him as well? He’d not expected Lan Xichen’s silence, having hoped he would exercise that same skill he used with Jiang Cheng whenever they talked. That gentle yet commanding tone that has won him countless arguments—and continues to bring Jiang Cheng back to the surface whenever their conversations delve into those darker, muddier waters.When Lan Xichen stopped advocating for himself though... Jiang Cheng had felt completely lost. Confused by the situation, and more and more frustrated the longer Lan Xichen’s protests went ignored. He’d sensed that he was being forced into something he did not want to do, and so Jiang Cheng reacted explosively, urging the others to let him speak, but… was it not just as bad to have put that pressure on Lan Xichen?In a way, his actions only helped escalate the situation, but… but it had felt like they’d been attacking him, and so his instinct had been to protect him. (Sometimes others won’t listen, and that’s when you shouldn’t waste your breath, Lan Xichen had said to him once, after Jiang Cheng had to pause for breath mid-way through a rant about his Council of implacable old fuddy-duddies. He’d tossed that pearl of wisdom out like it was nothing, and chuckled when Jiang Cheng scrunched his face up in disagreement.Thus, this form of ‘letting go’ was one he had yet to master. The urge to fight each and every one of his battles was so ingrained in him, that overcoming it was a whole different battle in and of itself. Unlearning things is always difficult, Lan Xichen had commiserated with him later that same day, smiling fondly at Jiang Cheng’s disgruntled look. By changing the way you think and discarding what you’ve always known, in a sense you are endangering yourself.)But stepping back, letting go… how could he do that when it was Lan Xichen struggling to be heard? Whilst he might be used to speaking up (or over) other people where necessary, Lan Xichen very much wasn’t. And the thing is, he always wants Lan Xichen to speak his mind. It’s a beautiful mind. One that doesn’t deserve to be muzzled by shame.“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I really shouldn’t have pushed you so much. And then I… I lost control—”“You didn’t hurt anyone.”“And maybe if I had just shut up, then you wouldn’t have—”“Tripped.”The laugh bursts out of him like a sob, barely muffled behind his hand. Jiang Cheng hangs his head, moving out of the other’s reach. “Yes… then you wouldn’t have tripped.” Wei Wuxian’s breath catches in his throat when he turns around to face the bed, but somehow his gaze goes right past them.Jiang Cheng reaches out but retracts his hand before it can make contact with Lan Xichen’s face. “Will you take that off already? Do you know how weird it is talking with you when I can’t see your face?”“Maybe I will if you call me Xichen-ge.”“…are you serious? Did you hit your head?! No way I’m doing that. Just take the towel off!”“But I can’t,” Lan Xichen insists. “Not if Wanyin has put it on me. He would surely break my legs if I did.”How does that make any sense!? Jiang Cheng sputters and is about to reply, but then… then he seems to register that they are being watched. When he realises who is standing there, he coughs, elbowing Lan Xichen in the thigh.“Wangji, Young Master Wei,” Lan Xichen greets cheerfully (without bothering to remove the towel). The little wave he gives them is odd yet charming.“You have good ears, Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian compliments, though he feels a bit out of sorts. Compared to Lan Xichen he should not be the one feeling this way, and yet… after witnessing that little scene, it almost seems as though they saw something they weren't meant to see. “Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Zhan says, stepping forwards.Somehow this small movement is what triggers Lan Xichen into action. He throws the towel off, lurching upright with a painful gasp. Everyone turns, alarmed, but all his attention is on his brother alone. “Wangji, please calm down.”“…”(This is one of those times when the scene is rather baffling. Lan Wangji appears the epitome of calm, and yet his older brother is telling him to calm down?! Wei Wuxian gawks, unable to believe these brothers’ ability to read one another. What is it that he’s even seeing?)“Sect Leader Jiang must leave,” Lan Zhan says in a tone that brooks no argument. Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops. This is unspeakably rude, especially for someone like Lan Zhan!“He mustn’t,” Lan Xichen protests, grabbing onto Jiang Cheng’s sleeve. He pauses. “Not unless he wants to.”“I will stay then.” Jiang Cheng crosses his arms, lifting his chin.When he’s like this, not even an avalanche could move him.Wei Wuxian chews his lip, pondering what it will take to get Jiang Cheng to leave. Lan Zhan wants to talk with his brother alone, and he needs to talk to Jiang Cheng too. Separating the two when they’re like this… he’s even more nervous, dreading the task set before him. With how intent Jiang Cheng seems on remaining by Lan Xichen’s side, he will have somehow to become greater than an avalanche…But when did they become so close? he wonders, eyeing his brother’s fierce expression. As Lan Zhan approaches the bed, it intensifies to the point that Wei Wuxian steps forwards as a sort of a buffer between them. Is this how he and Jiang Cheng used to make shijie feel, standing between her and the peacock? Once again, Wei Wuxian can’t help but think, our shijie was truly too good for this world.“Brother,” Lan Zhan says, setting down a teapot. The clink of porcelain rings in the silence. He pours him a cup. After the steam fades, Lan Xichen takes it. As he brings the cup to his lips, Jiang Cheng looks away again, gripping the edge of the mattress with such force that his knuckles creak. “Ah,” Lan Xichen gasps. “Too hot. I burnt my mouth.”“Should’ve let it cool first,” Jiang Cheng mutters, receiving a snort for that. But watching him, it’s almost as if the tea burnt Jiang Cheng instead. As if the bitter taste of the medicine is what has made his lips twist in distaste. “Jiang Cheng, can I speak with you?” Wei Wuxian asks, ignoring at the look his brother shoots him. “Lan Zhan needs to speak with Xichen-ge too. Come with me?”Surprisingly it only takes asking him this to get him to move. Though it feels like he’s leashing a tiger, Wei Wuxian is somewhat floored by the fact that Jiang Cheng followed him without protest. (Does this mean that for once, this thundercloud-imitating-his-brother is angry, but not angry at him? Wei Wuxian spares a moment to thank the gods that he isn’t!)“By the way, A-Cheng, did my ears deceive me or did I hear A-Yuan calling you shūshu earlier?” he forces a teasing lilt into his voice, bumping him hip to hip. “Oh I'm sorry, did we have to run that by you first?” he asks sarcastically.(That sneer is such a comfort to see though, honestly…) Wei Wuxian laughs, “Not at all! It makes me happy to know that you’re getting along so well.”“Well, he’s tolerable.”“Ah, so you like him?”“He’s got manners and at least some common sense, which is more than I can say about the others.”“Mm, those are things he learnt from Lan Zhan no doubt. Definitely not me, haha…”It should be the wrong thing to say—mentioning Lan Zhan, but he feels like it would be wise to gauge Jiang Cheng’s anger levels before they get in too deep. Is he angry at Lan Zhan? The lull in conversation hangs between them, but when they reach the old gnarled tree (the place they used to hang out in, during their time studying here), Jiang Cheng suddenly sinks to the ground and folds his knees to his chest.This is such an unexpected reaction that Wei Wuxian immediately kneels down beside him, but… he honestly doesn’t know what to do! Will things backfire if he tries to do what Jin Ling did? Does he dare risk touching him when he’s like this? Jiang Cheng definitely has enough spiritual energy remaining to zap him to a crisp, but he looks so pitiful that…Wei Wuxian shuffles closer to wrap an arm around him, and to his relief, Jiang Cheng doesn’t push him away. He’s drawn as taut as a bowstring though, stiff as a board under his arm.“You know, I meant it before when I said we’re all on the same side,” Wei Wuxian says. “We all want to help Xichen-ge, but that also means preparing for the worst, if it were to happen.” He prepares himself to run, but there is no outburst like there was before. In fact, Jiang Cheng seems the opposite of enraged, staring blankly ahead. “It’s as they say, failing to plan is planning to fail.”“You almost sound clever when you say stuff like that.”“Haha, but you… you get what I’m saying—”“Yes, I get what you’re saying! I’m not stupid! I understand! I just… I don’t want to talk about it.” Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. “I don’t even want to think about it.”There is something here that Wei Wuxian wasn’t expecting. Something more than meets the eye. The way Jiang Cheng is behaving, he… he’s really changed. Beyond that, there is… there’s something lurking underneath the surface of all of this. Hidden under his words, under his closed eyelids, and in between his slow measured breaths. It is something that he may not even be aware of.
No one wants to believe him capable of wanting such a thing just for himself.
Wei Wuxian is starting to suspect something, but if his instincts are right, then… then this is going to be so much worse for Jiang Cheng than he's already expecting it to be.“Did you know that Xichen-ge has actually spoken with Teacher about marriage several times?” he asks. “Of course, he agreed that it would be necessary for the good of the clan. He isn’t thrilled by the idea, but Lan Zhan says many of the prospective women would make good wives. As a veteran of the matchmaking scene, perhaps you could help Zewu-Jun out? Give him a few pointers, maybe—”“Help him?” Jiang Cheng echoes. “It will have to be done quickly, you see? So the sooner he decides on someone, the sooner they can marry—”“What is wrong with all of you?” Jiang Cheng has leapt to his feet. He immediately starts pacing, once again reminding Wei Wuxian of an agitated tiger. Ah, but there’s that temper—thank god. For some reason, he feels far better equipped to deal with an angry Jiang Cheng than a sulking one. “He’s not a breeding ram, for fuck’s sake! Treating him like that… it’s so disrespectful! Also, he’s in no state to be having children right now! His energy is already low! Giving up more of his vital life force[1] could be dangerous for him!”Honestly, Wei Wuxian is more than a little stunned. He’d never thought he’d ever talk about these sorts of things with his brother, so he’s rather unprepared for it. Also, the fact that Jiang Cheng is so concerned about Lan Xichen’s health that he’s willing to talk about this is a big red flag that something else is going on here! “Before you were insisting that he was perfectly fine, but now you’re saying that taking a wife could kill him.”“I didn’t say that!” “A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says gently. The man growls, spinning away from him. “Shidi, you aren’t making any sense. You’re contradicting yourself.”“Fine! I’m contradicting myself! But this… this is too absurd. The last thing he needs is—”“If it were you in his place, would your sect not also be pressuring you for an heir?”Jiang Cheng’s mouth snaps shut.Perhaps it was cruel to turn the question onto him, especially after what he heard last time about what the Wens did, but sometimes the only way to get through to Jiang Cheng is to shock him badly. Technically though, Jiang Cheng has been dealing with this problem for over a decade now—being pressured by his sect into marriage and feeling the shame of each failure. It’s just that it has been a constant onslaught of stress, to the point that he barely registers it anymore. Once again, Wei Wuxian cannot believe his luck. After bringing such a thing to their attention in the most unflattering light, how is it that he hasn’t been thrashed with Zidian yet? Is Jiang Cheng really so far gone that he doesn’t even care about this loss of face?“Why are you so upset by this?” It’s a good question. One he wouldn’t normally usually dare ask, but this is one thing that he needs to be absolutely sure about before… before he wrangles this conversation back to where it needs to be, and gets to the dreaded part where he tells Jiang Cheng what the world really thinks of him. Jiang Cheng stares. “Upset by what?”“Xichen-ge, of course.” The way things escalated before, simply from them giving Lan Xichen medicine, the way Jiang Cheng had responded… does he really not see how this looks to others? Jiang Cheng frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be? Should I be happy that my friend is suffering?” “You’re worried about him.”“Yes? Is that so hard to believe?”
Him suddenly becoming close to Xichen-ge… it simply doesn’t fit with his character.
“No,” Wei Wuxian says firmly. “No, it isn’t. You obviously care about him a lot. It’s understandable since both of you have grown rather close.” This has Jiang Cheng bristling, scowling even more darkly in response. “But Jiang Cheng, when did this happen? It seems like not so long ago, you and he were living separate lives.”“What nonsense! I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you! As for how it happened, I don’t see how that’s any of your business! Also, weren’t you the one who asked me to spend time with him?”To monitor him, yes, and to protect him too—both of which he has done... but Jiang Cheng seems to be missing the point here.“I was, and you have done so. But you seem to have gone above and beyond what I asked for.”Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Wei Wuxian. Anyway, regarding Lan Xichen and all of this, didn’t we agree that you and Lan Wangji would go look for the cure and that I would protect him in the meantime? As you say, I’ve been doing my part, so tell me: why haven’t you found anything yet?”
Some illnesses have no cure, young master.
“That medicinal tea is what we have found,” Wei Wuxian says wearily. “Huaisang is dealing with the list of spies, but as for the reason why… the reason is because there is nothing left, Jiang Cheng. We’ve exhausted all our options. I meant it when I said this sickness might be natural. If it’s something he was always going to get, there might not be a way of stopping it.”Jiang Cheng grits his teeth grimly, eyes squeezing shut. He looks like he’s the one in pain just from hearing this. Wei Wuxian’s feels his chest clench, his eyes grow hot, and his hopes all but shatter. What a fool he was, spouting failing to plan is planning to fail when he never made any plans for this conversation. Now it’s deviated so far from where he’d wanted it to go, that there is no hope at all.Nothing that will soften this blow anymore, especially now that he’s pretty much certain that Jiang Cheng is going to get his heart broken either way.“So, will the tea help him?” Jiang Cheng asks.Wei Wuxian bites his lip.“Will it buy him some time at least?”“…”“You cannot even give me that?”Give him that? It’s like he cannot hear himself. Wei Wuxian wonders if he was like this—if this is the reason why Lan Xichen was so angry with him by the time he realised his feelings. There’s no good way of doing this, he tells himself, so he just has to… do it. “Jiang Cheng, there’s something I need to tell you.”Heartbreaking? Is it really? Because Wei Wuxian feels numb all over. Completely empty as he tells his little brother how the world really sees him.And then, there is the villain. This is him telling Jiang Cheng that the situation is beyond saving, and at this point, all they can do is try to minimise the damage. People will always believe what they want to believe. Sandu Shengshou has been replaced by The Core-Stealing Hand as the most feared name in the cultivation world, and both names belong to this one man.Somehow they both end up back on the ground. Jiang Cheng is barely breathing by the time Wei Wuxian finishes explaining what they have agreed on, and how things must be if they are to stop the rumour from growing.“I… I can’t see him again?”“No, you must only limit how much you see him,” he clarifies, clutching onto his brother’s arm tightly. “And this isn’t forever though, A-Cheng. Remember that.”A horrible laugh tears out of him then, like bones rattling in his chest. “Isn’t it? What time do we have left if he’s really going to… if he…” The words seem to lodge themselves in his throat, choking him.“Say something, A-Cheng.”“What is there to say?” he demands. “How can people think I’m capable of such a thing? That I’m suddenly this Core-Stealing Hand, the successor to my parents’ murderer? How does that even make any sense?!”“It doesn’t—” “Is it so impossible that I could actually care about someone? That I might want to help them simply because they’re my friend?” He laughs, but the sound could eat through steel. “I could keep going on about myself, but then... what about him? What about what he’s going through? He is suffering all of this by himself, but I would not have him face it alone."Can he not even have my visits to distract himself with? Confined to this place with his body deteriorating like this, his… his whole world has become so small. There is barely anything.”He’s not wrong. Beyond the disciples and his family, his administrative duties and such, there is very little Lan Xichen can do right now. His days are bleak and unchanging. It’s not that Jiang Cheng believes he is a major part of Lan Xichen’s life, but compared to what little his life currently consists of, he hopes he can offer him something to break up that monotony.“Can I not even give him this one thing?” Can he not even… This has to be one of the worst feelings in the world: bleeding for his brother’s broken heart. Aching for the loss of something that this idiot beside him probably doesn’t even recognise in himself. What Jiang Cheng wants to give, he has already given. He just doesn’t know it yet. Everything changes when you know what love feels like. Loss becomes the most frightening possibility, and separation…? Could he ever stand being away from Lan Zhan for so long? If he were suffering, could he bear to not be by his side?“I said I don’t want to think about it, but truthfully… it’s all that I can think about.”Wei Wuxian blinks, wiping his face. “Huh?”Jiang Cheng shakes his head, smiling bitterly. “What would life be like without him? Try as I might, I just can’t imagine it. It’s simply impossible. You were right when you said we were living separate lives before all this, but even so, he has always been there.”It’s true that anyone in their generation will have at one time or another been compared to Zewu-Jun, or be told to look up to Zewu-Jun, or will simply have heard of his impeccable reputation by word of mouth. But Jiang Cheng said he knew him before he knew Wei Wuxian, which must mean that he also knew him in some other way… could they have been childhood friends? When has ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ ever shown any inclination towards making friends? When he was a boy, maybe? If he was younger than when Wei Wuxian met him, then it’s possible. Just because he can’t picture it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.“Promise me something.”Wei Wuxian’s heart flutters. Jiang Cheng wants him to make him a promise?“Just don’t fail me this time,” he adds, though without any hostility. Wei Wuxian can only nod vigorously at this. “If Gusu Lan needs assistance, send word to Yunmeng Jiang immediately. We will come as soon as possible. If anyone dares to attack, they will be met with my blade.”This declaration is striking, truly conveying the gravity of their situation. In the back of his head, Wei Wuxian knows Jiang Cheng only asking him this because he cannot stomach speaking to Lan Zhan right now. Technically he can accept such a request on his husband’s behalf, though with this being more tied to their sects’ commitments to each other, that would require a formal agreement and sanctions—“I promise,” he says, pressing his brother’s hand to his chest. They used to do all sorts of ridiculous things as children to uphold their pledges.I swear for as long as I have these two teeth. I swear on my pride as the smarter brother. I swear with every millimetre I have on A-Cheng. Little things. Temporary things. Things that would change with the next turning of the moon. This time, Jiang Cheng is the taller one, neither has their milk-teeth anymore, and both of them could be considered experts in their fields. This time, Wei Wuxian swears on his own beating heart and lets Jiang Cheng feel it. Even though this isn’t as much of a promise as the one they made as two newly orphaned boys, it still marks a huge milestone in their progress. “Protect him where I cannot,” Jiang Cheng murmurs (almost to himself), staring right at where his hand is placed. “Keep him alive.” Wei Wuxian’s throat clicks dryly. That is perhaps a little more worrying. How can he promise to keep Lan Xichen safe? (Keep him alive?) These aren’t things that can be guaranteed or promised— “This isn’t part of it. This part is just for me.” Just for himself? Again, all Wei Wuxian can do is nod helplessly. “Alright.”(If Jiang Cheng’s happiness depends on this, how can he refuse? Attempt the impossible. It’s these moments where a person must deliberately make the choice to challenge their fate.)Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “Right then, that’s my cue…” He stands and immediately walks off, leaving Wei Wuxian gawking at his abrupt departure. His chest feels cold where it was covered just now. It’s when he turns to look that he sees what must have prompted Jiang Cheng’s sudden exit, Lan Zhan emerges from the surrounding foliage.Wei Wuxian walks over in a daze, feeling an odd mixture of both heavy and light. “Lan Zhan, weren’t you supposed to be talking to your brother?” “He’s sleeping.” Did you hit your head? “Concussion?!”Lan Zhan purses his lips. “No, the tea has a sedative effect.”That wasn’t mentioned as a side-effect, but if there’s anything Lan Xichen could do with, it’s more sleep. Often when he’s been out at night breaking the curfew, Wei Wuxian has seen a candle glowing in the hanshi. Sometimes he’s even heard a few shaky notes blown by a xiao, or the whisper of guqin strings strummed by a faltering hand. That lonesome sound would float upwards, following trails of moths fluttering up towards the moon. “How did he take it?”Wei Wuxian sighs, pinching the skin between his eyes. “About as well as you might expect.”
I… I can’t see him again?
Remembering that makes his eyes sting. It’s like someone has poured gravel down his throat, and this… this is just him. How must Jiang Cheng be faring after that? Worst of all is the fact that he doesn’t even seem to be aware of his feelings. If you’ve never had something, can you even say that you’ve lost it?(But Jiang Cheng does have something, even if it isn’t perhaps the full realisation of what it could be. He has a friendship that he’s sought by himself—that he’s nurtured and grown, and… god, it’s really not fair. Did Jiang Cheng even say anything about his reputation? He moved so quickly onto Lan Xichen’s plight, that he—)“Wei Ying.”“Why is this happening? Jiang Cheng doesn’t deserve this...”“Hm.”He absolutely cannot tell Lan Zhan about what he has discovered. Even if he trusts his husband with everything, this is simply not his news to tell. There are some things that must be kept strictly between brothers. “Can you try to forgive him a little?” he asks, unable to let go of that feeling from before. Shījiě must have really suffered with him and Jiang Cheng. It’s definitely not a great feeling to stand between a brother and a lover. “He’s dealing with… a lot.”(Oh, he’s feeling protective now. Probably from this talk, or possibly ever since he learnt what the Wens did to Jiang Cheng. All this time he thought that moving forwards meant leaving the past far behind them, when in fact… every tragedy and heartache is part of the melody that sings towards this current time. How can he look at Jiang Cheng and not see his little brother? In what universe can he exist and not want to protect him?)“I will if he apologises.” It isn’t said with any inflection, but Lan Zhan seems genuine about it, so Wei Wuxian smiles.“He did though. You heard him say it.”“Fine.”This is the type of person Lan Zhan is: even though he might not be satisfied with this, he doesn’t let his personal grudges get in the way of anything. Wei Wuxian laces their fingers together, and then… and then looks down at their interlocked fingers, and the gravel scrapes his insides raw. If he ever had to let go of this, if he had to leave it all behind him—“A-Ying.”This is something that Lan Zhan has started calling him now. A-Ying. Soft and special, and only for them. He shakes his head, smiling cheerlessly and swinging their hands. This evokes the same feeling he had last night. Quiet but wondrous, the root of his joy.It makes him wonder what type of star he was born under to have lived two lives and found happiness at the end of such a long journey. It wasn’t without suffering or hardship, but the fact that they made it here at the end… could such luck truly exist? But why then do good people suffer? If karma is the carrot and the stick, the fact that those who despite all their suffering manage to walk the noble path aren’t rewarded for their efforts seems like a terrible injustice.By this point, he notices they have reached the jingshi. The relief that hits him is another thing he feels blessed for. To have this place to return to at the end of the day cannot be taken for granted.“A-Zhan,” he says, the novelty of it spreading warmth down to his toes. “Can I tell you something?”“Anything.”“What if it's a story?”Lan Zhan walks around, lighting the candles and—ah. Setting an incense stick up. His mind must be a mess. Maybe he isn’t in the mood for a story? Ah, but it’s a good one… Lan Zhan pauses suddenly. “Will it take long?”Of course, he wants to go and check on his brother. Wei Wuxian hums, “It’s quite short actually. I’ve just been having these dreams, and… well I might as well tell you about the other ones first, not that they’ll really help make sense of anything…”Wei Wuxian recounts the yellow-eyed man, the old woman, and Xiao Xingchen himself, who shone bright like a star amidst the darkness. In less than a minute, Lan Zhan is all caught up. Then he tells him about the latest dream—one which felt as delicate as a spider’s web for how deftly it was able to capture his heart, spools of light cradling his dream-self as he watched a dead man carve his path through the world.
This dark, tall figure in his dream was instantly recognisable as Song Lan. His corpse body strode with purpose, one hand held close to his chest. That hand was holding a pouch containing the fragments of two souls. He walked through a seemingly endless dusk with two crossed swords strapped to his back.
Then he felt a shiver against his palm. He stopped right in the middle of the street.
Without warning, the pouch unravelled itself. Instead of panicking, Song Lan’s stiff face softened, gaining the rosy glow of life. Xiao Xingchen’s dark eyes shone from his face, reflecting two bright sparks that fluttered out of the pouch. They floated upwards, then stretched out their silvered wings.
Song Lan’s face lit up with joy and he smiled up at their light.
As he looked up to a full moon, a gentle breeze fluttered through his hair and then through him… and he fell apart, dissipating into a mist. He coalesced into a spark and then shot out like a sword flare, flapping madly to reach the other two. One had stayed behind, as if to wait for him, and together they flew up towards the moon, like embers from a bonfire they rose…
“…and they became stars in the night’s sky.”Such a dream leaves the dreamer wanting proof, but also not needing to see it. Whether it was real or not, imagined or not… Wei Wuxian turns to an equally affected Lan Zhan with shimmering eyes, and they both know that this is all there is. They could search for an eternity and never find Song Lan, and that wouldn’t be proof of anything either. Lan Zhan closes his eyes, wishing he could hold Wei Ying with all his might without risking crushing him. He thinks about his mother who used to tell him and Lan Huan to read all the stories they could get their hands on. Unless proven otherwise, who can say if any of them aren’t real? she’d tease, pinching his cheeks when he narrowed his eyes sceptically. Open your mind, A-Zhan! she’d laugh, reeling Lan Xichen into the hug as well. He’d whine, reaching for his abandoned paints and brushes. Ask your big brother, A-Zhan. Until you see the whole picture, how can you ever assume the artist’s intention? (He… he probably owes Jingyi an apology at some point. Sizhui will be pleased too, he thinks.)“Tonight,” he murmurs, stroking a lock of hair that strays near his face. Wei Ying twists around, hopeful and questioning. He turns to the window and points up towards the sky. “We will search for them among the stars.”It’s as pointless an endeavour as searching for Song Lan himself, but then they’re not really looking for confirmation, are they? After all, the comfort of all the stars in the heavens looking down on them is enough.Within every butterfly’s dance, every spark of joy, every flickering flame… life glistens in these tiny fleeting moments, its intention perfectly clear. It’s times like these when Lan Zhan wishes he’d been a braver child. Had he taken the hanshi instead of his brother, he would not have to suffer the cold of this room, but that’s how Lan Huan has always been—taking the brunt of things, sheltering him as much as he could. The mountain gales whistle through the trees, buffeting against the side of the hanshi, keeping the Frost Room perpetually cold.He enters quietly and goes to collect the tea tray. The cup is empty, the teapot too. Good, he tells himself, he finished it. His fingers are stiff with the effort of silencing the clinking porcelain. Then he glances aside, and—
Clink.
A small chuckle has him jerking backwards. Lan Huan smiles, watching him with so much fondness. “I heard you coming,” he murmurs. “Your footsteps."Lan Zhan hums. After a few moments of silent staring however, the First Jade breaks contact, turning away with a sigh. Instead of a weight being lifted, Lan Zhan feels like his legs might buckle from this. Brother, will you not look at me? As he straightens the blankets, his hands still shake slightly. Dada, do you blame me? Do you hate me for this? “Is this what's been troubling you lately?” Lan Huan asks, eyeing the teapot pointedly. He bites his lip. (Bad habit, Lan Zhan thinks.) “You have been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you? But how is it different to any of the other medicines we’ve tried?”Lan Zhan doesn’t answer. (He cannot.)
From what you’re telling me, the answers probably can’t be found anywhere on this Earth. You could turn over every rock, search through every city, and not find an answer…
If you’re interested though, I have some herbs that can help with the pain, and provide him with some comfort. It can ease his passing—
“Do you feel any better?”Lan Huan shrugs loosely. The gesture is one he must have picked up from elsewhere. It lacked elegance and precision—another bad habit. What does a shrug even mean? Yes or no? The medicine cannot work that quickly that he would feel its effects immediately, but it’s important to gauge how well it’s working as soon as possible. Otherwise, how can they calculate a good dose?(What would even count as a 'good dose'?)The priority is getting Lan Huan’s health to stabilise.Even if it cannot be improved (yet) until they find a solution they need to keep him well. What Brother wants matters too, of course, but… does he have any idea how difficult it is, watching him suffer? If this medicine can help him even a little bit, Lan Zhan just wants him to have some relief. At the same time… what if the medicine causes him to lose that essential part of himself? Suppresses emotions, reduces pain. The first part is a double-edged sword. What is Lan Huan without his emotions? He is the warmth that Lan Zhan lacks. He’s the person you look to when you need to believe that there is some hope for this godforsaken world—“You can sit, Wangji.”He sits exactly where he and his brother used to spend hours sitting together. Those quiet afternoons when they would traverse the universe, hand in hand. The room has changed a lot in its arrangement and its contents, but here… here is where the world once centred itself and opened at their touch, and each time they made that pilgrimage across all sorts of lands, they’d meet up back here again. When was the last time they journeyed together? The memory from the inkstone doesn’t count… so before this all began, then. Over a year ago, and yet it feels so much longer.“A-Zhan.”Lan Zhan turns to him, dragging his thoughts away from I was here and there, and I was all around you, A-Zhan. I was your breath and thought. Put your hands on mine.“Brother, for how long can a caged bird sing?” he asks plainly. Lan Zhan’s mouth opens, then snaps shut. (A caged bird?) Lan Huan’s smile trembles. “Tell me, what is the point of living if I cannot feel anything at all?”
What is the point?
Lan Zhan’s mind flashes over the previous decade, feeling it sift like sand through his fingers. A time of waiting. Years spent floating through life, barely registering much of anything. A-Yuan had been his light in the darkness, but even with him and A-Yi, and Brother, and Uncle… the world had lacked that vital something. There had been no joy to be found in flying, no peace in strumming his guqin, nor sitting in his beloved library.Life had been far too quiet.“Will I still count as a person anymore if nothing affects me?” Lan Huan asks dully. “What type of judgement will I have? Will I be fit to lead, or make decisions on our sect’s behalf? You remember our father. You know how detached he was by the end. Uncle became his guiding hand.”Without emotions… will he lack perception? Empathy? The two things that define Lan Huan’s personality the most, and shine through his smile with endless compassion, like a beacon to those who yearn for someone to acknowledge them—to see them beyond their circumstances or station. “This choice is not one I can make without regard for anyone else. It will not just impact my life but others if my judgement becomes impaired. In which case, will you guide me if I lose my way? I trust you to keep me on my path, but our sect and family will need you for more than that...”Lan Zhan grips his knees. He hates this. More than anything, this is unbearable.“You understand that if there was anyone else, I would never ask this of you, right?”Lan Zhan knows that it’s his brother’s desire to keep him free, but it’s not as if his freedom is worth their family falling apart. He swears to stay here with him, to whatever end. (Caged though? Does Brother truly feel that way? Is that due to the medicine or his responsibilities? But if it’s the latter, why has he never spoken of it before? This hearkens back to what Jiang Cheng said months ago—)“Wangji,” he sighs. Lan Zhan shoots him a confused look, but Lan Huan only smiles grimly before shaking his head. “I have held my tongue these past weeks, but now that we are finally talking won’t you confide in your big brother? There is something on your mind, but this time it’s beyond even my comprehension…”This is exactly what he came here to talk about. Lan Zhan’s fingers bruise his kneecaps. Ten ice-cold points biting into his skin. His brother’s eyelids are drooping, his expression slack from exhaustion… There’s something else Lan Zhan has to tell him first.And so, he starts by explaining about the medicine.He tells his brother about the doctor, the skilled fighter Kong, and the strange youngster A-Lan. Lao-zhongyi must have slipped him the herbs at some point, because he’d been horrified to find the little pouch tucked in his sleeve. For long weeks it sat in a drawer in his desk, but when he returned home one time to find Lan Huan convulsing with pain… he knew it couldn’t wait much longer.The disciples had been beside themselves, and so he told himself: we’ll wait till Jin Ling comes to study. If anything happens again before then, we will have no choice but to use it. Since then, he and Wei Ying went back to that town a few times hoping to find those beggars. He wanted to confront Lao Li about their strange behaviour and maybe ask more about the medicine, but like before they’d seemingly vanished into thin air.“Confront them?” Lan Huan repeats, blinking a bit more awake. “They are suspicious. Their behaviour, and the fact that they seem to be highly skilled.”“This is most unlike you,” the elder comments, puzzling Lan Zhan even further. What part of this is unlike him? He and his husband frequently take on mysterious cases. Lan Huan purses his lips. “You know better than to assume a person’s character based on little known facts. You don’t tend to base judgement on behaviour without having the evidence to support it.” But this is different, Lan Zhan thinks, this is about you. Of course I am paranoid, but that’s because I am scared. Brother, I need to keep you safe. “What else?” Lan Huan mutters, eyes sliding shut again. (He says nothing about them lying about the herbs. Lan Zhan bows his head. At least Nie Huaisang will be relieved.) “I sense there’s something else that you’re not telling me.”He is correct, and more than ever Lan Zhan feels the inadequacy of his speech. As he reluctantly tells his brother about the Core-Stealing Hand, Wei Ying’s words blare like a warning in his head. About as well as you might expect. Just like before, when he tried to detain Jiang Cheng, Lan Huan shoots upright. His hair spins around him as he turns, face darkening like an oncoming storm.And suddenly the Frost Room becomes bitterly cold. Lan Zhan can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen his brother this angry.But by the end, Lan Huan has exhausted himself. The anger has worn itself out through stuttered gasps, and now he appears as dry and pale as bone. Utterly lifeless. Not a trace of anything left, not a hint of warmth held in his stony gaze. It would be unnerving to anyone else to see him like this, but for Lan Zhan… he has seen this expression before.One time, Lan Huan held onto hope—for him. For his little brother, who tugged on his hand and asked, when do we see Mother again? He put on a brave face for the one who needed him to remain unwavering amidst their confusion and grief and hidden all his pain behind a smile.Another time he saw it was when Lan Huan stumbled out of the Guanyin Temple, but regrettably, Lan Zhan rushed away with Wei Ying soon afterwards, so he cannot say how he fared after that immense shock.“I… this is my fault,” Lan Huan says tonelessly. “Had I not asked each time, he would not have returned so often…”If only Lan Zhan were as vocal as his husband, he would say that this wasn’t his fault. It was simply people being people, and there was no fault in his actions nor Jiang Cheng’s. That others would see their actions in the worst possible light speaks only of their jealousy and greed. None of this was their doing.“I need to... to fix this.” Lan Huan clutches the side of his face. “But how? Even if I were to announce my poor health to the world, even if I were to claim Wanyin was innocent… even if I were to say that he’s been supporting me, no one will believe it. I have lost all credibility, as has he. Here, I am… I am completely useless.”Lan Zhan stares helplessly. For some reason, he thinks again of those first days of separation and loss.Lying face-down unable to move, his body numb from all the lashes it bore, and then… Did you hear? The Yiling Patriarch is dead! He had run out as early as he was able to, but he was paralysed from sheer devastation. Useless, he cursed himself, crawling on his belly like a snake. Carrying back home a young, sick child, he’d thought to himself, he’s gone. But here he is the helpless, useless one. Not Lan Huan.If only he had paid closer attention, this rumour could have been cut down when it was a mere sapling, but now its great bough casts shadows of doubt over all them. The man paying most for it deserves it the least—even he can admit that Jiang Cheng has changed, and for the better. For months now, he’s kept up his part of the agreement. Lan Zhan has heard from the juniors how often he writes, how often he visits, and how much of a presence he has become in the First Jade’s life.Lan Zhan doesn’t like Jiang Cheng and doesn’t know if he’ll ever like him. His words always seem to be barbed and aim for his weak points, and whether he is rolling his eyes at him and Wei Ying, or sneering at Lan Zhan’s impenetrable silence, he always seems so… unpleasant. To be honest, Lan Zhan struggles to understand the man at all. How he became such a fixture in his brother’s life, Lan Zhan cannot bring himself to ask, but if they have become so close... was it because Jiang Cheng had seen something that none of the rest of them had? Even months ago, he threw out accusations which had shook him to his core—
(It’s as if you’ve decided to leave him to rot—you should know better than to leave a grieving man alone!)
Ever since then, Lan Zhan has always been… leaving his brother behind. Left him for the disciples to take care of. Left him in the care of a man he dislikes (Hates? Perhaps too strong a word.) to go and search for answers. He thought he was doing the right thing. Tackling the problem head-on, not sitting by letting his brother waste away (rot) any longer.Was that the right thing to do though? If not this, what should he be doing? Chasing these beggars is getting them nowhere, but what else is there? He has failed him, he...“A-Zhan, come here.” After all this, why is he the one being comforted? This time Lan Zhan doesn’t tense up at his brother’s touch. This is his brother, who hugged him all throughout his childhood, right until the time when Lan Zhan stopped allowing it. When he rejected him that first time, it had been because the warmth his brother’s embrace reminded him so much of Mother that he couldn’t stand it. After that, he really couldn’t bear anyone touching him. He yearned for her and only her, and never lost hope that she would open that door, because… how could she be gone? It wasn’t possible, he’d thought, she was there just last month. She’s always been there. All those times he stiffly endured his brother’s hugs until finally, he stopped forcing them on him, did he ever wonder if it wasn’t to give comfort to him but to seek it? That A-Huan might have been reaching out to him because he had needed that reassurance? After all, he had lost his mother too.“Brother,” he croaks out, suddenly terrified. He is scared to hold him now. What if he shatters under his hands?He isn’t skin and bone. His high cultivation has luckily preserved his body well enough to tide him through these months of wasting, but he… he’s lost that glow that cultivators tend to have. Nothing to do with the light itself, but with the connection the spirit has to its surroundings. Without that, it dwindles down to whatever energy the body can contain. The soul starves locked away within walls made of the body's flesh.Lan Zhan wishes he could give all his energy to him, but his brother’s body has become resistant to receiving it. It just doesn’t take. He could give all the breath in his body, and Lan Huan would still suffocate for lack of the right air. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, hiding his face in his brother’s collar. They are of the same size now, the same height, and yet he feels so small. This body he is holding feels brittle, fragile like the hollow bones of a bird. “What are you apologising for?” Brother is still warm, Lan Zhan thinks, and gentle, and kind. Allowing himself to be rocked side to side, the urge to push him away never comes. “For all the times you wanted to hold me, and I didn’t let you.”Lan Huan blinks and then laughs. “I’m holding you now though. It’s not so bad, is it?” His hands falter on Lan Zhan’s back, ready to retreat in an instant. “It’s not too much?”He has never blamed Lan Zhan for keeping that distance between them. Never once pushed him beyond what he was comfortable with, always accepting him the quiet way he was. He was the first person to be able to read him at a glance… “Wangji, what’s wrong?” For the first time ever, when Lan Huan tries separating them, Lan Zhan clings onto him. He cannot fathom how he ever found this intolerable, or how he could have taken this for granted. All these years, so much affection has been wasted on him when it should have been given to his brother too. He’s been selfish. “You have done so much for me, brother. You give so much of yourself to others. It is the world that has failed you, not the other way around. You are not useless.”Lan Huan jolts against him, curling a hand around the back of Lan Zhan’s skull to bring their foreheads together. Their lashes whisper together, no words but that connection springing to life. Lan Huan blinks rapidly and he feels his own eyes burning.“If that is true, why then does it feel like if I cannot help him, I am?”Lan Zhan cannot explain this either. It is hardly as though his brother would not feel that way simply because he feels useless if he cannot help someone. His devotion to his friends is not a new thing either. To have mourned badly enough to go into seclusion? It’s obvious that he cares just as deeply for his friends as he does his family.As he ponders this, Lan Huan’s arms lose strength, and the hand rubbing the back of his head slows. Lan Zhan doesn’t register it at first, but then he feels his brother pulling away slowly, and finds that the slack-jawed melancholy has returned to his face. Lan Huan looks like a ghost, the way he glides over to the window is almost worrying—as if being so light on his feet, he might be blown away.The sun casts long shadows over the room and makes his eyes shine like chips of amber.Lan Zhan stumbles after him, clumsy in a way he’s never been before. The distance is too great.Suddenly, he regrets every single time he has shied away from his brother’s touch, even though it was not possible for him to permit it at the time… he meets Lan Huan’s gaze reflected in the glass and shivers. They are truly Twin Jades like this. Will his brother become as cold and inexpressive as him if he continues drinking this medicine? Will he then have to shoulder the disappointment of people saying if he’d just smile or if he’d talk a little more, then he’d be perfect? In one last-ditch effort, Lan Zhan grabs his sleeve. “Can we meditate together?”Lan Huan pauses. “Meditate? That will only serve to frustrate me, Wangji. I'm sorry, but any type of cultivation is currently far beyond my abilities.”Is this how it felt to be rejected each time? Never before has the ground beneath him felt so close to breaking. “But your core is—”“My core is fine. It’s not that. It’s just that I cannot reach that place. Each time I try and fail it upsets me, so I,” He pauses to chew on his next words. “I’d rather put my time towards better things.”“Like what?”Lan Huan reaches up a hand to block his own reflection in the window. One would think his hands were bruised if he didn’t press them against the glass, where it is revealed that the dark marks were from ink stains covering most of his fingers. “Reading, writing,” he murmurs, running a finger down the pane. “Such things that can reveal to me a completely different world, perhaps even freeing me from this one.”This type of talk, he can’t— He turns back to the table. Back to the room, so cluttered and cold. His eyes fall to a sheet of paper tucked under a book of poems. Others show sketches of flowers, a few caricatures of some old men bickering over paperwork (is that Uncle??), and boats floating under billowing clouds. Each one has a tiny dragonfly etched at the bottom, almost like a signature. Lan Zhan’s gaze slides across to the inkstone. He has begun to form a theory about that memory locked inside it. As he circles the table to study it more closely, he marvels at the play of light on the gold veins and remembers a blaze of blinding light. That woman their ancestor pulled out of the water… “Brother, do you remember discussing the carvings?” He doesn’t need to elaborate further than that.Lan Huan nods, “I do.”The latter is still staring out of the window, gazing at something far beyond the courtyard and the trees. There is no rain today, but already the seasons are turning once again. Autumn will only last a few more weeks in the mountains by his estimation. Perhaps it was a good idea that Lan Huan has moved some of his belongings into the Gentian House. It will be warmer there when winter comes.“What would make a person constantly look backwards?” Lan Zhan ponders aloud.The moment he does, Lan Huan whirls around, the smile wiped clean off his face. The motion causes him to stagger, his hand squeaking on the glass. Lan Zhan launches across, manages to steady him before he falls.“Brother!” He scoops the man up and hurries back to the bed. “You must rest. Forget what I said—” “But that’s exactly it, Wangji. What would make someone look over their shoulder?” Lan Huan cups his cheek with a clammy hand, smiling up at him. Smiling to hide something. Lan Zhan is too stunned to recognise what it is. “I’ll give you a clue. You remember that when we were little, you always preferred standing in the corners of rooms. You hated open spaces and shadows. Why?”Because they felt too exposed, he thinks.The lack of something behind him, his blind spot vulnerable to all the monsters his mind could conjure up. He would stick to his brother’s side when they were expected to present themselves in front of a crowd. The only place he felt safe was his desk in the Library Pavilion, where even if his back faced the open courtyard, his brother’s desk sat opposite. Even if he wasn’t there watching him, he would be comforted knowing he was somewhere nearby.“She was afraid,” he breathes, his own shock reflected back in those dark, liquid eyes. “But of what?”Lan Huan’s eyelids flutter shut, dark hollows like bruises set above each sharp cheekbone.He’s still smiling, but as Lan Zhan hovers over him, it becomes strained. The twist of his lips brings back a flash of memory that will haunt him forever—entering the hanshi with a tray of snacks, only to find his brother writhing in agony, gnashing his teeth together to keep himself quiet. Was that how it was for Brother when he watched him be whipped thirty-three times? When he found him like that, he fell to his knees, and his mind was screaming: Brother, Brother, who are the ones punishing you, and what for? “I will rest now, Wangji.”Lan Zhan pulls the blankets over, folding them the way he likes them. His hands won’t stop shaking. Rubbing his deadened fingertips together, he wishes he could be happy that his brother has agreed to rest, but it’s like he’d said before to Jiang Cheng: what I say is never what they want to hear. ‘I will rest now,’ sounds like he’s surrendering to him. Every time, his brother has been the one to reach out to him. This time, Lan Zhan kneels to cradle his brother’s limp hand. When Lan Huan turns to look at him, his face softens at the edges. “Dìdì,” he murmurs, squeezing his hand gently, “I will be alright.”He bows his head, pressing his hands to his brow. “Please get better.” It’s not fair to ask this of him, but if he got better then everything would get better. “Please, I can’t… I can’t…”With just his brother’s hand carding through his hair, the rhythmic cycle somehow manages to both soothe the ache within his heart and agitate it. When it stops, he slowly drags himself away, wipes his face and stands. A sideways glance shows that the sun has moved a finger’s width downwards. As has become their routine, he will wake him in time for the sunset. Jiang Cheng cannot say if he finds himself there by pure chance, or if it was by luck that his idle feet led him there.The smooth white pebbles that form the cobbled pathways gleam like pearls in the dim light, forcing him to go barefoot out of courtesy to their cleanliness.After stomping around the woodlands for most of the afternoon, his boots are a muddy disaster. He’d thought that by walking around he might catch the attention of a passing disciple, but so far none have crossed his path. He’d have thought that after things ended so disastrously that morning, someone would have come to kick him out, but surprisingly enough no one has. Technically, he could leave right now. Even if he’ll arrive home at some ungodly hour, it would probably be best… but pride won’t allow him to run back home, and more importantly, there is someone he wants to say goodbye to before he leaves.Until now, all of their ‘goodbyes’ have actually been ‘see you later’.Thinking about changing that pattern…Jiang Cheng steadies himself and turns his face up towards the rosy skies. Heavy, bruised clouds drift past high above, and ahead of him, one is caught aflame. Even behind a screen of molten white and gold smoke, the sun is bright enough to burn his eyes. He closes them and lets the red of his eyelids settle that raging, howling beast inside of him. The world will be in shades of blue when he opens them next—But then he hears something else, and his eyes fly open immediately. Jiang Cheng tilts his head sideways, and… yes. Part of what he thought was the rustling of leaves is, in fact, the whisper of fingers sliding up a string. He knows that sound from observing Jin Ling practice his archery, but here it’s different. Just as he starts walking, the first string is plucked. A melody follows that he measures each of his footsteps against, each one leading him further away until he abandons the path altogether. The grass is damp underfoot, staining his skin brown and green. He is no musician, but to him, these rich liquid notes falling one by one sound like walking through the rain. He half expects to find the sky opening up above him, but it’s only in his mind that it does.At the end of the trail, a man sits with his back to him. Perfect posture, but head bowed. Jiang Cheng’s eyes are drawn to the movement of his arms: the left side sliding up and down, right side plucking. Then the song rises, and his breath swells in his chest. He could have almost thought that Lan Xichen was the one singing, but his voice is nothing like this. That a song could sound so desolate, that his sorrow could still come alive like this… Jiang Cheng finds a lump rising to his throat, his heart beating itself bruised against his ribs. There is no way of knowing how long he stands to listen, but when the notes taper off to hang in the air, he notices the sky is much darker than it was before.Jiang Cheng wavers for a moment, but then takes those last few steps.Had anyone else found him like this—practically hanging off the edge of the cliffside, they might have had a heart attack, but Jiang Cheng isn’t worried. The mountain breeze is strong here but predominantly blows inwards, tossing Lan Xichen’s hair backwards in a single sheet, like a sweeping inked brushstroke. “Don’t laugh,” Jiang Cheng starts by saying, “But I always thought the guqin was your brother’s instrument. It never occurred to me that you could play it too.”The smile that spreads across Lan Xichen’s face seems to make him glow. The melting sun paints his skin healthy flushed pink and gold. “The guqin is an instrument every hand in Gusu Lan has tried at least once. It's important to see if they at least have a passable talent.”Jiang Cheng nods seriously. “Yours is definitely passable.”His laugh makes Jiang Cheng feel all warm inside. It’s moments like these when he can pretend that Lan Xichen is perfectly fine. His laugh hasn’t suffered at all and remains as bright and strong as the shiny lacquer on his guqin. This is another kind of music. One full of unbridled happiness and not tinged with faint sadness as the guqin always seems to be.As he looks him over, he finds Lan Xichen also looking back at him. “What?”“Have you been crying?”Jiang Cheng sputters. “Don’t be stupid.”“But your eyes are red.”“That’s just the lighting. Can’t you see that everything is red? You’re red too! Seriously!” He scrubs at his nose. (Crying!) “Why would I be crying anyway?”He sets his boots down and sits close enough that he risks staining Lan Xichen’s snowy white robes. How he’s not managed to dirty himself sitting on the bare ground is a mystery to anyone, but Jiang Cheng has long grown used to it by now. He leans over on his knees, curious despite himself. Lan Xichen smiles and tilts the instrument towards him. Jiang Cheng plucks at a string. A low note trembles, rough and rasping. He huffs and shuffles away to Lan Xichen’s amusement, but he catches Jiang Cheng by the wrist and guides him back to plucking that same note. This time it resonates outwards, a ripple of qi permeating the air.Lan Xichen inhales sharply, his eyes falling shut for the time it takes for it to dissipate.“That was you,” he says. “Yours.”That note? His?Jiang Cheng hums, and for a moment feels immensely proud.But then that was you registers, and it dawns on him that whilst Lan Xichen could play the most beautiful songs... none of it will sound the same way as it used to. How unfair is it that someone as untalented as him could play such a resonant note, whereas someone with Lan Xichen’s skill cannot. With his skills, he should be able to move mountains.At the very least, he moved Jiang Cheng with that song. Even if it’s not quite as impressive, it’s still something.“You did write to me that you were thinking of playing again,” he mutters, brushing grass off his robes. “But I thought you meant the xiao. What happened to your Liebing?” That famous flute the First Jade used to carry everywhere with him is nowhere to be seen, but Jiang Cheng never saw a reason to ask about it until now. Lan Xichen sighs. “I haven’t the strength to sustain a proper note, let alone a full song. Also, there are… I just don’t have the heart to play it anymore.”Jiang Cheng knows that tone. Sworn brothers, regret, guilt. He could press him further, and after so many conversations between them, Lan Xichen would open up quite easily to him, but he doesn’t want this moment to belong to anyone other than them. He doesn’t want their time to be spent always looking over their shoulders.“What a shame,” he says after too long, folding his long legs into a lotus. (God, his feet are filthy.) “But do you think your guqin could be heard from Yunmeng? If you played from here at the edge of this cliff, would the sound be carried over by the wind?”“Isn’t the wind blowing the other direction though?” Lan Xichen asks, apparently amused by this nonsense-talk.Jiang Cheng smirks.“Ah-ha, but Yunmeng is also in the opposite direction, so it will all flow together. The spiritual currents converge right here,” Jiang Cheng says, moving his arms to illustrate the flow of qi around them. He can see it faintly, and more importantly—he can practically taste it with every breath, sweet and pure. “It would be good for you to spend time here. If you wanted, you could practice your guqin.”“I sit here every evening,” Lan Xichen says, his mouth quirking shyly. “So I could play for you if you want, but I’m still not sure whether you will be able to hear me at that distance.”“I will,” Jiang Cheng insists. “Play whenever you like. I’ll definitely hear it.”He cannot help himself. He pokes at another string, hooking his finger around it and letting it ring out. Lan Xichen shivers, but his expression softens further. “That sounds like a promise.”“It is, so long as the weather permits. I don’t want to hear about you coming out when it’s wet or snowing. It snows up here, doesn’t it? I remember when I came to study…”It was the first time Jiang Cheng had ever seen snow. After witnessing that breathtaking phenomenon, it was perhaps the only thing he’d agree that Yunmeng might be lacking. Anyway, his point was:“No sitting out here when it’s cold, you hear me? If you freeze your ass off, imagine how embarrassing that would be if someone found you?”Lan Xichen giggles. Giggles. Jiang Cheng ducks his head with a grin.Many would be surprised to learn that this is how their time is often spent. Either giggling at the stupidest ideas or wallowing through more painful recollections. In any variety, from highs to lows, they’ve covered all sorts of topics, and each one has been like a thread stitching them tighter together. Jiang Cheng has never had someone he could speak to like this—with no fear of saying the wrong thing and incurring a punishment.Even if Lan Xichen has confided in others before him and still has a close family to speak to, he’s happy just to be included in his circle of trust.It’s with this thought that his good humour wanes. No matter whether he is trusted or not by Lan Xichen… the rest of the world does not trust that he is safe with him. (But how could they think that I would hurt him? It’s with a torrid wave of resentment that Jiang Cheng recalls what Wei Wuxian told him. That would be impossible, he thinks, and not the type of impossible I would ever want to attempt.) “Wanyin.”“Hm?” The mood has definitely changed, but he’s not sure how...“Can you ever forgive me?”Suddenly he knows they are thinking about the same thing. There is the same heaviness in Lan Xichen’s tone that had felled him like a tree earlier, dragging him to his knees with misplaced guilt and pain. He lets out a sharp laugh. “Absolutely not,” he says, adding quickly, “Because there’s nothing to forgive. Nothing to be sorry for either. We’ve done nothing wrong.”Lan Xichen lets out a sigh, his mouth curving sweetly. “You’re right.”Jiang Cheng grunts. Of course he’s right. He rests the backs of his hands on his knees, trying out the lotus position. This would indeed be a good place to meditate. If only winter wasn’t on its way, Lan Xichen could spend more time here, and maybe it could—Maybe it could help?“Tell me about that song you just played.” This conversation is swinging every which way, which is perfectly normal for them. Same as a kite would tug along with every flurry of a breeze. He wants to be like that kite—free to soar, free to roam. “Would you play that one for us in Yunmeng?”“But it’s unfinished,” Lan Xichen says, sounding oddly embarrassed. Is he blushing? It’s hard to tell. Jiang Cheng shrugs. Even an untrained ear like his could tell that the tune was incomplete. Lan Xichen tucks some hair behind his ear, “And it’s not like I can… I can’t just—”“If you can’t say what it’s about, tell me how you came to write it.”Lan Xichen’s strokes the delicate silk strings and Jiang Cheng waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts. Here, he is as radiant as a star. With the last echoes of daylight drifting down towards the horizon, his skin is truly jade-like and reflects all the colours in the sky.“It isn’t written, and it will never be written,” he explains, as gentle as the breeze that twirls his hair sideways. “Because inside every person, in the depths of their soul lives a song. It’s written there, and resides within the heart.”Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen. “Is that your song then?”Lan Xichen smiles faintly. “It is.”He feels rather stunned, for what reason he cannot fathom. “Wow,” he breathes. “And you came up with it all by yourself?”“I cannot explain the process, but it came to me quite easily.” Lan Xichen rips up a piece of grass and lets it flutter down over the cliffside. “Unfortunately, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to finish it.” Jiang Cheng absently plucks the same string again, refusing to pick up where Lan Xichen left off. There is less and less light by the second, it seems. (How fitting, his traitorous mind sneers, but he stubbornly ignores it). Indigo is darkening to black, and stars have begun to twinkle in the deeper folds of the night’s sky. For no reason whatsoever, the sight of that lodges another lump in his throat.“Wanyin, please can we talk?” Lan Xichen asks, resting a hand on his arm. He is so pleasant about it that Jiang Cheng grimaces reflexively, hit by a sudden wave of deja vu. “Talk about what?”“Maybe how we should deal with that rumour?”“You know, I sort of wish you had that towel back on your face,” he says abruptly.Lan Xichen chuckles, holding a hand over half his face. “Better?”Jiang Cheng bats it away irritably. Nothing should hide that face, even if he himself cannot bear to look at it. “What is there left to talk about? Surely your brother has already told you what we must do.” It’s funny how an afternoon here, a morning there, sometimes a full day and stay-over at night… all of these visits have added up to become a significant part of his life. Now Jiang Cheng wonders what he will do with all the extra hours. Where he used to put time aside, now he will have to fill up his days with other things, or else… he’ll just end up thinking that he could have been here instead.“They say I can’t see you again,” he says flatly. “Either that or we must limit our interactions, but what does that even mean? Actually, does it even matter what we do? Whether I stop coming here or not, it will look terrible either way. They’ll just assume that I’ve achieved my goal if I stop coming abruptly. Really, there’s no good solution for this.”“It doesn’t seem that there is.” Lan Xichen drags that hand over his face. “I’m… I'm so sorry, Wanyin.”“Stop apologising. This was my choice too.” (And it was—he was the one who wrote up his own schedule. He took it upon himself to complete the work he’d missed out on later, sacrificing what little time he could have spent for leisure flying back and forth on his sword. No one forced him to do this. No one can force him to do anything he doesn't want to. Intimidation won’t work on him either.)Jiang Cheng turns to him, solemn as the grave.“Listen here. We cannot let fear dictate the way we live, but neither can we allow our sects to pay for these rumours. If I am to continue coming here, we must reduce how often I visit.” He reaches into his sleeve and pulls out the jade token. It appears luminous against his skin and feels warm and smooth in his palm. When he tries to give it back, Lan Xichen refuses to even open his hand. “It was a gift,” he protests. “If someone were to stop you and question your purpose for coming here, this would be proof that you have permission. You are always welcome in the Cloud Recesses, Jiang Wanyin.” When Lan Xichen wraps his fingers back around it, Jiang Cheng flinches. Cold! “You must always try to keep this on hand.”Jiang Cheng catches his fingers before they retreat, and folds them between his own. The token is awkwardly held between them, but Jiang Cheng is focused on rubbing warmth back into his ice-cold skin. He doesn’t notice Lan Xichen holding his breath, nor his gaze flitting between their hands and his face. “With my luck, they’d just assume I’d stolen it,” Jiang Cheng retorts wryly. “Look at him, they’ll say. Gone and twisted the First Jade’s mind! Not only is he going after his core, but also his sect…”“Wanyin.”"He even has the gall," Jiang Cheng chuckles, "The arrogance to claim that they are friends—"Suddenly there are many things between them. The token, their hands, the guqin, Jiang Cheng’s face. His ear, which is pressed to Lan Xichen’s chest, can hear the heart beneath it beating fast.Jiang Cheng grunts when the guqin digs into his ribs, but the arm wrapped around him is a lot stronger than he’d thought it would be, crushing him awkwardly against Lan Xichen’s side. That arm is like an iron band, pretty much impossible to break out of. It is also trembling... in fact, Lan Xichen is trembling all over. Jiang Cheng will have to get him back indoors soon. With the sun practically gone, it’ll be getting cold very quickly—“I would say this was hurting you more than it’s hurting me, but if that were true… why then am I still so affected, when I drank a whole pot of that foul tea?”“Is it supposed to work that fast?” Jiang Cheng wrenches one arm free to steady himself on Lan Xichen’s shoulder. It is still sturdy, if stiff as a rock and oddly sharp. “Is it really that bad?”“It’s disgusting.”He throws his head back and laughs.Lan Xichen has a wonderful sense of humour, but his jokes often fall flat because… well, because he’s not good at delivering the punch-line. Sometimes though, when he says stuff like this it’s just too funny. When Jiang Cheng has calmed down a bit, he finds Lan Xichen gazing down at him fondly. His smile is like a sun that does not set.It causes something to twist inside him, and that laughter becomes a sharp pain. Then that light becomes blinding, and he has to look away. “I’ll have to write you more letters,” is what he says. “The unfed mind devours itself.”Lan Xichen shakes his head. “You don’t have to do anything.”“Letters of everyday life in Yunmeng. I’ve only given you the good bits so far. That’s right, those were the good bits. When you see what rubbish I have to deal with, you’ll get sick of it very quickly, but I won’t stop.” Jiang Cheng squirms himself free, returning to his seat. “I’ll take you with me on night hunts,” he says. “And when I have to sort out security at the markets. When I’m stuck whipping my stupid disciples into shape—”“Whipping?!”“Oh yes. Whipping is an absolute must for training idiots. Especially the younger ones. Same protocol as breaking legs, of course.”Chuckling, “I see.” “I’ll describe the old fuddy-duddies at court so well, you’ll feel like you’re right there in the room smelling Lao Han’s foul breath with your own nose!” Jiang Cheng grins wickedly, “You’ll be begging me to stop!”“Will I?” Lan Xichen laughs. “But with this, you will be painting me the world through your eyes. With your words, and your thoughts.”Jiang Cheng nods firmly. “Exactly as it appears, in all its ugliness. All its truth.”When he adds nothing else, Lan Xichen says, “Then I will be grateful for all that you can show me. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”Jiang Cheng’s smile tilts sideways, and he takes Lan Xichen’s hands again. Still cold. He blows some air onto them, rubbing vigorously. “You know that if I could, I would do more. So much more. Fuck whatever the others say. It wouldn't matter. You know that, right? But here I can’t… it's not possible for me to be brave—”“But you are.”“My sect will—”“I know.”“But if I could, I’d... I don’t even know what I’d do. Maybe find you the cure by myself, or—or forget looking for one... maybe I'd just try making one myself! If I could, I’d be willing to try anything…”“Anything?” Lan Xichen echoes, eyes shining. He seems charmed by Jiang Cheng's enthusiasm. “For example…?”“Well, I said I don’t know.” Jiang Cheng scratches his nose. “What would you suggest?”Lan Xichen lets out a long breath, causing Jiang Cheng to wonder whether his Liebing is truly out of his capabilities, or whether he simply cannot bear to play it anymore. “Well,” he says slowly, “If the written word could protect me, I could almost believe it. Out of all the activities that exhaust me, in spite of me writing so much, these hands still have the strength to play the guqin. That must count for something.” Jiang Cheng finds himself feeling oddly embarrassed when he examines his ink-stained hands. “The written word, though? How would that work?”“Maybe if it were like a seal,” Lan Xichen might be teasing him for all he cares, but Jiang Cheng finds himself listening intently, “We could lock my qi inside of me to prevent it diminishing any further. Am I correct in thinking you still have deprivation chambers in Lotus Pier? What if we were to reverse the seals used for making them?”Deprivation chambers are often used for harsher punishments, or more intense training, cutting off all spiritual pathways and thereby forcing the cultivator to suffer not having any qi available to them."That idea… doesn’t actually sound half bad." Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “What the fuck? That could actually work! Have you seriously been sitting on this idea all this time?!” He slaps him, then tugs on Lan Xichen’s ear indignantly. “If you asked Wei Wuxian to work on this, we could have tried this out ages ago! I could write seals to put all over your hanshi!”“It’s not likely to work though,” Lan Xichen argues. “I’ve thought about it already. Reversing those nullifying seals would only mean that energy would be locked within the room, but how will that actually do anything in relation to me? We’ve established that I can no longer absorb or retain spiritual energy from external sources. Putting me in a room with seals all over it will only result in me swimming in spiritual energy, and the effect it would have on the surroundings—”“But what if the seals were drawn on your skin?”Lan Xichen’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “Pardon?”“It might be more effective with direct contact. If it’s on your skin, then the energy will be drawn into your body, right?”“…"“I could do it!” As the idea grows in Jiang Cheng’s mind, he rises onto his knees to accommodate this. “All these months I’ve been practising my calligraphy, and now I can finally put it to use!”“On my skin?” “It’ll wash off eventually,” Jiang Cheng says dismissively, “I could do it the first time, and then if it works someone else can do it! Wei Wuxian would be able to! Actually he… he might be a better choice than me,” he frowns. “You might want to try asking him—”“You’ve got to be joking.”Jiang Cheng’s brow creases. “Why would I be joking?” He gives into the urge to thump Lan Xichen on the chest again. The man sways backwards, looking rather stunned. “You know what’s a joke, Xichen-ge? The fact that you’ve been keeping this idea all to yourself! It’s at least worth trying, don’t you think?”“But… but—”“If you’re so fussy about having ink on your skin, we could try sealing your room first,” Jiang Cheng offers. “But if I were you, I’d be taking this a little more seriously. What’s the big deal anyways?”“Brother.”Both of them turn. Lan Wangji stands there, part of his face lit by the last dregs of the sunset, the rest of his expression cast in shadow. His arrival spurs Jiang Cheng onto his feet, and suddenly the three of them are staring at his muddy toes. He scowls, flushing with embarrassment. Lan Xichen forces himself to swallow his shock, and meets his little brother’s questioning look with a tight smile. “Was there something that you needed, Wangji?”“…”“Oh, you’re right.” Lan Xichen translates for Jiang Cheng: “It’s getting late.”By now, the sun is completely gone. Just a glimmer of its fiery trail lingers in the sky, and the moon herself has begun her reign over the beckoning night. Lan Wangji is carrying a blanket, and frowning slightly as he looks between both of them.“But you’re not leaving now are you, Wanyin?” Lan Xichen asks, recognising this as a problem. “It’s late.”Jiang Cheng shuffles on his feet awkwardly. He would be quick to answer in any other circumstance, but with Lan Wangji standing there… he feels strangely embarrassed to be found like this. The Second Young Master Lan observes them for another long moment and then releases a reluctant sigh.“People are already expecting him to be here for Jin Ling,” Lan WangJi says.Lan Xichen snaps his fingers, “Of course! Since you came here to oversee his induction, it would make sense for you to stay a little while longer, unless you don’t want to?”Jiang Cheng purses his lips. The Spiders were pretty pissed off with him earlier, and would probably want to drag him back to Lotus Pier, but it would look suspicious to be returning in such a hurry, wouldn’t it? And he is here already. He brought enough stuff to last him a week, so... hands on his hips, he nods, “In that case, I’ll be staying as planned unless I’m kicked out first.”“Never,” Lan Xichen declares. Jiang Cheng shoots him a grin and then picks up his boots. With Lan Wangji standing there, he would rather leave the two brothers alone. He gives them each a quick bow, murmuring, “I’ll be leaving first then. Goodnight.”As Lan Xichen watches him go, his fluttering purple robes catch the last light in the star-crusted sky, and he matches its colour perfectly. A violet flame swallowed up by the trees and shadows, glinting like fish scales and then disappearing into the night. “Brother.”He shuts his eyes briefly as the blanket is folded around his shoulders. Somehow, between this, and Wangji hanging back at a distance, and him saying Brother like that... an entire conversation happens.All is understood between them. Lan Xichen inhales slowly and deeply and tracks the lazy arc of a bird seeking its roost.He releases that breath in a sigh, inviting his brother to speak… but of course, he doesn’t. He has never minded this. The connection they have foregoes the need to speak, which is… which is helpful here, where confronting this truth will be hard enough by itself. He doesn’t even have to look at his brother to know what he is concerned about, what he’s wondering, and what he wants to ask.“I can understand why you’re worried,” he says easily. “But I’m not. Not anymore. Not by anything, in fact. If I'm being honest, it’s not even that much of a surprise to me.” Wangji blinks slowly, and a little heat rises to his face at this. “Dìdì, I may not be able to understand others as well as I had thought, but... I am not so blind as to not recognise how I feel.”“When?”When did it start? When indeed. There is no beginning that Lan Xichen can think of. Not one moment stands out more than the rest. From when they met as children to the adults they are now, every moment is just the same. Each of them mundane. All of them special.The truth is that he’s known this for a while.There are a few beats of silence before WangJi asks, “And you do not doubt it?”Ah, so that's what is troubling him. He is haunted by his own near-losses, and what his uncertainty actually cost him—all that time, all those wasted opportunities.His little brother remained opposed to his heart for so long, and then those feelings became muddled when a certain prankster left his studies early. The years of chasing him afterwards and following him without truly understanding the reason why he did so… all throughout that, Wangji had been doubting himself, until he realised that the risk of losing Wei Wuxian left no room for such doubts.Lan Xichen runs a hand over the guqin strings. They still hum with that energy. His palms tingle with it whilst his fingertips are numb.When he picks out that tune again, the man beside him inhales sharply. Lan Xichen's smile feels etched onto his face. “Who do you think has been watching you all these years, Wangji?” he asks, mindlessly pouring his heart into the music. He should fear this being heard by everyone, but it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t anymore. He’s not afraid at all. “All the changes I’ve seen in you, I now see in myself. It wasn’t exactly difficult to work out from there what was happening.”This melody came to him one night, and the urge to play it had been too strong. Unable to sleep, he’d risen out of bed and paced for what felt like hours. Breaking curfew hadn’t been the issue, but finding his bearings on his old, dusty guqin had been. Then it gushed out of him like water from a wellspring, flowing effortlessly and inexhaustibly, this song that came from deep within...It had been with fear and gladness that he found himself dragged along by it, knowing that there was no way to escape from this.“Was there ever any doubt in your mind once you knew?” WangJi shakes his head. “But does it not bother you?”“In what way should it bother me?”“We are not… it’s different for us. Even with Wei Ying, he is still a—”“There is nothing shameful about falling in love.” Saying this aloud he should feel horribly exposed (ashamed, even), but the music acts as a merciful buffer, cloaking him as much as the blanket does. Shielding him too. He looks at his brother, and… he’s right. It has never been easy for them. They had no idea what love should be like between two partners. They never knew their parents in one room together.Everything regarding love was kept far away from them, to the point that it even felt dangerous imagining loving a woman, let alone a man.“Anyone is capable of it,” he says. “Everyone deserves it, and it should never… we never should have punished you for loving him.” Wangji appears to be absolutely speechless.Lan Xichen doesn't blame him. He made no secret of the fact that he blamed Wei Wuxian for his brother’s fall from grace, but now... who is he to blame him when he’s the one who has inadvertently ruined Jiang Cheng’s reputation?“It’s all in the past now,” Wangji mutters.He looks stunned, but unbeknownst to Lan Xichen, this is mostly due to his surprise at Lan Xichen's whole attitude towards everything. That he can be so accepting of it and unsurprised by this discovery… it’s nothing like his own experience was. What he mistook for aversion was in fact desire disguised as disgust, and he’d struggled with it for years until all hope was lost—Was that why? When he turns to his brother, Lan Xichen is already waiting with his answer. A smile that Wangji has known his entire life, brimming with endless compassion. Even weak as he is, exhausted, and with red eyes bright with tears… nothing can dim the glow of his happiness. Nothing can steal from his joy.“You’re still wondering how I can be so certain,” he says, the music trailing off unfinished. “But the answer is simple. At this point, I don't want to waste any time doubting myself. There isn’t time for it.” Wangji swallows thickly. “And does he…”“It doesn’t matter,” he laughs, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Whether he does or he doesn’t, it doesn’t change the way I feel. All I want now is to accept whatever comes. Whatever happens, I don’t want to regret anything this late in the day.”The look he gives him begs him to understand, and for once Wangji finds his mind full of words, but as always... they fall apart at the mouth. Tell him, he wants to say, before it's too late. But saying that would risk too much, and after all… he is right. It’s not the right time for it, and it’s not what he wants.
What I say is never what they want to hear, so much so that I am almost afraid to say anything at all.
I want to make my own plans. To live my own life.
“I can’t tell him, Wangji.” His voice is tight with sorrow. “It wouldn’t be fair to him if I did. He cares about me, and that is enough. I would gladly become a fond memory to him someday, instead of becoming something he regrets.”(Hearing this, he disagrees. Wangji bites through his lip till the bitter taste of blood spills in his mouth. The worst type of regret is the one you get from not doing something that you know you could have done. Losing that chance, watching it pass you by. He would know.)“You understand what it’s like, wanting to protect someone from the whole world. Wanting to hide them. To keep them safe, even from the burden of knowing...”A gust of wind steals his last words away, but then his fingers slip on the strings and the guqin cries out in place of his voice. The echo rouses some birds in the distance, and something far away cracks open at the sound.Wangji curls an arm around his always-smiling brother and holds him as he bows his head and weeps.He understands completely.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
How poetry is made:
when a heart is so isolated, it starts talking to itself
— e. jay
What wakes Lan Xichen up is the sound of something buzzing in the air.He swats his hand, trying to fend off whatever it is. It takes a few moments, but then he realises that he’s wrong. What’s buzzing is in fact the air itself. He throws off the blankets, lurching onto his feet. Outside, he hears voices yelling. Young voices. Disciples. Not panicked, but rather excited. Above them, one particular voice is just shouting commands.When Lan Xichen finally manages to get his legs working he staggers over to the door. The moment he opens it, the buzzing noise stops and sensations on his skin are cut by half. It’s like cold air rushing into a hot kitchen. Wei Wuxian is the first person he sees, sprawled comfortably on the grass whilst he tosses suggestions at his irate brother. Jiang Cheng seems (for the most part) to be ignoring him entirely, his attention purely on ordering the so-called ‘junior-juniors’ about. Lan Xichen stands back to observe this for a moment.“A-Tao, A-Ming, I’ve told you before—take smaller steps! Remember that your shīdì has abnormally short legs!”Wei Wuxian groans. “Oh god, Jiang Cheng, he’s… he's going the wrong way again—”Jiang Cheng spins around. “Xiao Ouyang! Do I need to teach you your left from your right?! Are you really that thick? We said right! That means clockwise! How difficult is that to understand?!!”“May I ask what is happening?” Lan Xichen interrupts, carefully picking his way over various items scattered on the floor.All of this screaming… he really ought to remind them of the rules, but everyone looks like they’re having fun. Jiang Cheng has a stack of papers in one hand and is stirring some paste with the other. He glances briefly at Lan Xichen but then returns to his work.This position allows him to see that A-Tao and A-Ming are standing either side of the hanshi, which means that Xiao Ouyang must be on the opposite side. The boys are copying Jiang Cheng in such a way that he realises they are performing a ritual together. Lan Xichen tugs at the papers, which Jiang Cheng relinquishes with a grunt.Seals. Freshly inked. Lan Xichen almost drops the whole lot. What he has somehow failed to notice until now were all the seals already stuck to the exterior walls. Each one has been carefully placed, and even from this distance, he can feel the flow of energy drawn to each seal.His breath stutters.Jiang Cheng’s hands are completely black. There’s even a smudge on his cheek. Next to the paste is a pot of ink and… and Lan Xichen’s heart thunders as he admires the man’s single-minded focus. He is always so intense. Jiang Cheng barks out another command and they all move in tandem clockwise.On his way past, he throws Lan Xichen a wink. “Nice pyjamas, Zewu-Jun.”Wei Wuxian saunters over before he can even begin to process this, taking him by the elbow to lead him to the side. Here he watches Jiang Cheng tearing apart the boys’ work with such cutting remarks that he’s surprised no blood has been drawn. Despite the harsh criticisms, Xiao Ouyang only seems motivated to work harder, his round face scrunched up with determination. “You’re probably wondering why we aren’t sticking these on with qi.” Wei Wuxian shakes out his sleeves. His hands are mostly clean. “The answer is that rice paste is a better long-term adhesive.”Lan Xichen’s thoughts are in complete disarray. That was not what he was wondering! His fingers tingle where the ink is drawn. The whole stack of seals is nearly three fingers thick! “All of these…”“Jiang Cheng dragged me out of bed at some ungodly hour,” Wei Wuxian says. “Well, first he forced me to design those seals at dinner. Then I was dragged out at the ass-crack of dawn to help him work on this. The thing is, whilst everything is technically correct, I don't have much hope that this will work. Quite frankly, this is as good as sticking wings on a pig and expecting it to fly.”Lan Xichen, “So he—”“I wouldn’t be too worried though. The worst that could happen is the hanshi absorbing too much qi.” Wei Wuxian halts, his smile going rigid. “On second thought, that could potentially pose a problem.” Lan Xichen, “Where is Wangji?”Wei Wuxian sobers at this. “Working. Didn’t want to get involved.”“Can we focus, please?” Jiang Cheng snaps, appearing at his side. “Give me the seals.”Lan Xichen is about to hand them over but Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue, “Jiang Cheng! Breaking formation like this? That’s not the proper way to—”“You shut up,” he says, snatching the seals away and smacking the edges straight. “There’s no proper way to do any of this. Don’t deny that the only reason you’ve come is to gloat when this fails.”Lan Xichen bites his lip. He can’t stop staring at the smudge on his face, but then he notices dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Jiang Cheng shrugs, squinting at Lan Xichen. “Did you?” Lan Xichen knows his eyes are red and swollen and incredibly sore. He probably looks awful. Jiang Cheng mercifully diverts the conversation. “Anyway, did you feel anything when you were in there?”In the hanshi? “Yes,” Lan Xichen replies. “That’s actually why I woke up.”“This late in the morning? My, my!” Wei Wuxian grins, whistling loudly. “Zewu-Jun.” Jiang Cheng, “Ignore him. What was it that you felt?”Lan Xichen eyes him for a moment, his stomach flipping violently when Jiang Cheng takes his wrist, frowning at his no-doubt accelerated pulse. By now he must think he has a rabbit’s heart! His eyes flash violet as he studies Lan Xichen's spiritual pathways, and… though he knows he’s only checking his dantian, it feels like he’s seeing straight through him!“It’s as I said it would be,” Lan Xichen says, his voice is only marginally steadier than he feels. “The spiritual energy has pooled inside but it’s not really doing anything.”“Hmph.” Jiang Cheng does not look pleased by this at all. The smudge is shaped like a half-moon. Lan Xichen can picture him sweeping a hand across his cheek, brushing back the hair that frames his face... “Go get dressed. You look strange like this.”“Wanyin—”“Unless you changed your mind? Want me to draw the seals on you?”“…"Jiang Cheng shoots him a wicked grin and darts away, leaving Lan Xichen stunned and stuttering. His boyish laughter cuts off into a roar when he sees the disciples out of formation. Wei Wuxian chuckles at the rather bewildered expression on Lan Xichen’s face, but really… this is too much. He has seen Jiang Cheng angry, anguished, frustrated, furious, delighted, hopeful and stressed. Seeing Jiang Cheng like this reminds him of two little boys running down a mountain slope; his fingers itch at the memory of that tiny hand holding onto his so tightly.“Best not get in his way when he’s like this. The only thing worse than tired Jiang Cheng is drunk Jiang Cheng.”“But did he not hear me? I don’t think this will achieve anything.”Wei Wuxian looks at him. “I don’t think that really matters.”But if no one thinks it will succeed, why bother at all? The only reason you’ve come is to gloat when this fails. Jiang Cheng has no faith in this either, but even so he… he must have stayed up all night writing the seals. Lan Xichen hopes his face shows the opposite of how he's feeling inside. The rush of warmth nearly knocks him over, and it’s with great difficulty that he manages to maintain a relatively mild expression.“We should get him to stop. I wouldn’t want to waste his time.”“Oh?” Wei Wuxian cocks his head. “Is that what you think you’re doing?”Lan Xichen freezes.It’s moments like this when the sharp mind of the retired Yiling Patriarch reveals itself and Lan Xichen remembers who it is he’s dealing with. This cheerful, carefree man was able to reclaim his old life thirteen years on through his ability to perceive things, picking up quickly on facts without them needing to be given. Lan Xichen doesn’t allow himself to so much as breathe in Jiang Cheng’s direction.But that in itself is equally as telling.Those grey eyes cut like steel through his defences. Whilst Lan Xichen is pretty comfortable with his brother knowing his feelings... this is entirely different.“Oh for fuck’s sake. Not you two again!”Lan Xichen spins around, the distraction thankfully breaking their staring contest. Two women stride towards their master, their movements broaching on predatory. The junior disciples scatter immediately, and Jiang Cheng curses loudly again when the Spiders finally reach him. He lets out an explosive sigh, pinching the skin between his eyes. “Just say it,” he snarls. “What bad news now?”“Boss, it came in the night,” Minzhen says, holding out a letter. “It can’t be small news.”“Why is it that when I’m gone for barely even a day, suddenly nobody can do things for themselves?!”Linzhen, “Because you’re the backbone of our sect, boss. Our shining beacon. Our sun, moon, and stars—”“If you cannot show me any respect, don’t speak at all!” Jiang Cheng snaps, slightly red-faced from the teasing. “I cannot understand this. Haven’t we been dealing with this for weeks? It’s not like it doesn't happen every year!”Minzhen, “Not this early and never this bad.”“Pardon, but may I ask what this is about?” Lan Xichen asks, stepping forwards. “Might Gusu Lan be of any assistance?”Jiang Cheng flaps his hand. “It’s a minor issue. Seasonal flooding. Nothing we can’t handle.” “Seasonal flooding my ass,” Linzhen grumbles under her breath.“The elders won’t be happy if you ignore their summons, boss,” Minzhen tries to argue. “Unhappy elders means putting up with more bullshit whining. Also, the disciples are close to rioting.”“The elders can eat shit. It’s not like they’re the ones building levees out of mud, are they? They can shut up then.”Minzhen, “Nearby towns are getting overcrowded. The death toll is growing, and hoards of fierce corpses are coming from all this drowning.”Seeing Jiang Cheng’s face darkening, Lan Xichen's feet become rooted to place. He smiles weakly. “Do you need to leave?” For some reason, this seems to be what convinces Jiang Cheng to give up arguing with his guards. He shoves the pile of seals into his brother’s hands, grabs Lan Xichen by the hand, and pulls them both towards the hanshi. As Lan Xichen whirls around to look back in panic, the last thing he sees is Wei Wuxian’s delighted expression.He feels like he might just faint.There is no reason for him to be feeling this way. He and Jiang Cheng have spent hours alone together for months… but everything is different now. It’s like discovering the light that he sees the world by, and realising how it makes everything shine. When Jiang Cheng releases him, he swears his limbs melt like candle-wax.“You just look so strange like this,” Jiang Cheng repeats, sounding amused. “It’s like seeing a turtle without its shell.”Lan Xichen has been praised all sorts of ways for his beauty, so why is it that being insulted like this makes his heart flutter? He has no time to ponder this because Jiang Cheng steps closer and it’s like the air gets sucked out of the room. His eyes are darker than Wei Wuxian’s. Stormy skies with a hint of blue. Lan Xichen has a sudden urge to blend together charcoal, indigo and a pinch of azurite— “Where is your ribbon?”
Oh.
Before he can reply, Jiang Cheng marches off towards the nightstand. This is the moment where all the panic inside of Lan Xichen suddenly bursts out. At the same time, the world seems to slow down to the moment where Jiang Cheng reaches for that strip of cloth—“Don’t!!”Is he going to faint?! He really might at this rate!Luckily, Jiang Cheng’s fast reflexes stop him just in time. Lan Xichen cannot see his own face, but he’s sure that it is switching between several different colours. From Jiang Cheng’s panicked expression, he knows he must look moments away from collapsing. “Okay, calm down! I didn’t touch it! Are you… are you alright?! Come—sit down before you fall down!”With shaking hands Lan Xichen ties his forehead ribbon. All through this Jiang Cheng watches him, which only makes everything worse. This ribbon no longer belongs to Lan Xichen anymore. Wearing it in front of this man, he feels like a fraud.“You Lans are so weird,” Jiang Cheng decides, dropping down to sit next to him. Lan Xichen once again finds himself staring, barely resisting the urge to wipe that streak of ink away. “I’ve never understood the significance of those ribbons anyway. Why are they so important?”Does he not know? It’s not like it’s a secret. Surely Uncle must have taught them what it meant… not knowing what else to do, Lan Xichen smiles. “I’ll tell you another time.”Jiang Cheng hums and leans back on his hands. Luckily he doesn’t press the issue, probably because, well, because he must be exhausted. Even though skipping one night of sleep isn’t so bad, those inked seals were practically crackling with energy. Every single one. Lan Xichen feels like he should make him some restorative tea, but the only herbs he has are—“I don’t want to leave.”He doesn’t want to… Lan Xichen masks his reaction to this with a well-timed cough. It isn’t necessary though because Jiang Cheng isn’t even looking at him.“Eventually you must,” he tells Jiang Cheng gently, reminding himself of this too. “What do you intend to do?”As Lan Xichen watches Jiang Cheng shuffle backwards, flopping onto his back with a relieved grunt, he cannot understand how they got here. It’s something he’d never thought would happen, but over the months Jiang Cheng has become comfortable around him, to the point that he can even confess that he doesn’t want to leave… “I mean... I have to deal with it. And I will. Eventually. When I find the situation a little less… annoying.” Jiang Cheng folds his arms over his eyes, stretching his body out with a long groan. Lan Xichen has to look away at this. “They’re all idiots, but they’re my idiots. My responsibility. I will go, but for now... I just want to rest my eyes for a… a couple of minutes.” He twists around, peeking under his arm, “‘s it okay if I do that here?”“Stay as long as you want.” Isn’t he being too obvious, saying that? Can anyone blame him though?Lan Xichen wonders if this is payback from the universe for criticising Wei Wuxian for his obliviousness. How on earth did WangJi put up with all of his teasing? Does Jiang Cheng even know what it is he’s doing? Lan Xichen gnaws on his lip. Jiang Cheng has closed his eyes, and his hair has partly fallen out of its bun. It looks thick and soft, textured rather than pin-straight like most other people’s hair.After much deliberation, Lan Xichen carefully strokes one glossy curl. How is it that suddenly all these urges are revealing themselves? He was never like this before. There was never this hunger inside him.“You’re far too kind, Zewu-Jun.”Lan Xichen clears his throat, ears going hot as he retracts his hand. “Is the flooding really that bad?”“It’s all the rain we’ve been having. We got good harvests, but now whole towns are being swept away.” The sigh he lets out is so weary that Lan Xichen’s chest aches with it. “Lotuses never suffer underwater. If only people were like that. Yunmeng people should be.”“I’m sorry.”Jiang Cheng stirs, turning to his side. “Can you really feel nothing at all from the seals?”He’s staring up at him now, the angle of his jaw knife-sharp. Lan Xichen swallows thickly. “Only a slight tingling of energy. It was much more noticeable earlier. As I said before, it’s why I woke up. As well as you shouting, I was hearing this buzzing noise—”“Buzzing?” Jiang Cheng seems rather bewildered by this. The smirk drops off his face, brows jumping up. “Now that you mention it… I’m hearing some sort of buzzing too. What is that?”He sits up, cocking his head. As he moves in long smooth strides, Lan Xichen is reminded of a cat stalking a mouse. Jiang Cheng goes to the window-seat and spits out a curse. “What is it?” Lan Xichen asks, watching him bend down for something.“Look.” He shows him something small and shiny cupped in his palm. “And this is just one of the bastards.”Dragonflies? More of them? “Is it still alive?”“That’s why it’s buzzing.” Jiang Cheng scoops up another handful. Lan Xichen frowns. “I think you may have a bit of a pest problem here,” Jiang Cheng says. “This is not even remotely their season. It won’t survive like this.”It won’t survive...? Just like that, the buzzing stops. Lan Xichen’s mouth trembles.“Tsk. Well now, what should I do with you?” Jiang Cheng flinches when the dragonfly suddenly starts beating its wings madly—alive! “Hey, hey, hey, do you not understand? It’s almost winter. If I put you out there you’ll die, but if you stay indoors… you’ll still die.” He turns to Lan Xichen. “What should I do?”He’d faced this same dilemma months ago. Lan Xichen’s hands curl into loose fists when he cannot give him an answer.“Outside it is,” Jiang Cheng says. “At least you’ll have a chance of surviving out there. Try not being so stupid again, okay? I might not be here to save you next time.” He’s talking to an insect. Lan Xichen tries to pretend not to see this, but when Jiang Cheng remembers his audience, his face turns red. “Not that I—I mean, uh…” Knock knock. “Sect Leader Jiang?”Both of them jump. Wen Ning? There is a scrabbling noise. Then the door opens slowly, revealing the tall, hunched fierce corpse and— “Fairy?!” The dog pants happily in answer, and… Lan Xichen cannot resist. He bends down to scratch her chin, sending her tail wagging madly. Jiang Cheng would pet her too if his hands weren’t full of dead dragonflies! He turns to Wen Ning. “What happened?” Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “Did they send you?”Wen Ning nods stiffly. “Well shit.” He spins around, a flash of panic flitting across his face. “I need to go,” he says, “I’ll be back soon. I already told Jin Ling I would, and I need to collect Fairy anyway before Wei Wuxian dies of fright. Behave,” he warns the pup. “Three days,” he promises, slapping Lan Xichen’s shoulder.It’s Lan Xichen’s turn to nod.As he watches the two of them walk away, he can’t help noticing Wen Ning’s clothes look less ragged than usual. Jiang Cheng glances back, one hand raised in farewell. He waves in return, eyes lingering on that fluttering purple ribbon until it slips out of view. Fairy snuffles his knee but then wanders off. She turns around a few times and then sits a few metres away.Lan Xichen tries to beckon her inside, but she just sits there staring at him. After a few minutes of this, he gives up and shuts the door. It’s then that he lifts both hands to rub his temples, the throbbing in his head a dull pain compared to everything else.When his fingers brush his forehead ribbon… he gives up on trying to soothe that ache.Whilst he’s boiling water for some tea, Lan Xichen goes to where Jiang Cheng found the dragonflies. A few broken wings and the dust of crumbled bodies remain. He fetches the broom. Is there really a ‘pest problem’? He’s never noticed it being a problem because he’s never found any dragonfly corpses. If they came here to die, their remains must have somehow vanished—Impossible. And yet. The first dragonfly. He never buried it, and yet it mysteriously disappeared.When Sizhui and Jingyi were moving things from the hanshi to the Gentian House, they made no mention of it either. It was like it had never existed. It was probably cleaned up by someone else, but… anyway, Lan Xichen pours the water, letting the tea steep. Idly he plays with the edge of some papers next to him, flicking through the thick wad of letters. What would anyone say if they were to find them there in plain sight? Nothing, probably. There is nothing incriminating about collecting letters from a friend.But there is something remarkable in the fact that he knows them all by heart.Soft strains from a guqin float in through the walls, seeping in like mist filling a valley. Lan Xichen inhales, eyes falling shut. Uncle, are you there? Sizhui asks. His lips curve upwards, but his guqin is packed in its case. It’s too far away for him to answer in time.Everything is too far away. Too far out of reach.Sizhui complains, Uncle, Jingyi is being too loud. He huffs a laugh at this. When we get punished, it will be entirely his fault. What on earth are the two of them up to now? After this, Sizhui’s music returns to its daily invocation: I wish you well, I wish you well, I wish you well, and it hangs in the air like the scent of smoke. Lan Xichen lets his breath whistle through his nose, crossing his arms to fight off a shiver. His fingers itch for a brush. He wants to paint.Getting up is a painful process, but he leaves the tea without any thought for it going cold. Hot or cold, it is always bitter. The canvas has finally got some colour on it now, but he doesn’t trust his hands to add any details yet. It’s a faint wash of muted greens and blues.
From the water of your ink, bring life to the painting.
But what life can he give to this, even with water, ink, and a memory? He is stripped of warmth yet filled with desire. It’s a contradiction that leaves him feeling as blurry as the unfinished painting itself. He read somewhere that desire without fulfilment was suffering, but that desire with fulfilment was also suffering, because it would simply be a constant state of fearing that loss. Which option would be better?The truth is that, despite everything, he is just grateful to feel any desire at all.
But what if the seals were drawn on your skin? I could do it!
If I could, I’d be willing to try anything…
He returns to the table and drinks and drinks and drinks. Casting aside all thoughts of loss and longing, by the end of this he will have doused his yearning with a river’s worth of tears. (A river?) All thoughts will lead to him now, like rivers flowing to the sea. With this hopeless love burning in his chest, he can only be swept along by the current.Lan Xichen wipes his lips dry with his sleeve. He is still in his sleeping robes. Nice pyjamas. He snorts. You look so strange like this. What a sight he must make. Lan Xichen goes to peel off his thin white under-robes, folding them neatly on his bed. It’s only when he is half-naked that Lan Xichen’s mind grasps onto a fleeting thought. His eyes go from the pile of letters to the inkstone, to the empty teapot, to his paintbrush… and an idea forms in his head. How can he resist? No one has to know.(No one will ever know.)The characters written are no larger than the length and width of his finger. The ink is cold on his chest, and he must lie down so it doesn’t drip. Staring up at the ceiling, Lan Xichen thinks of his brother branding himself, and how much more that must have hurt. This must pale in comparison, yet it is still agony. The difference here is regarding who is likely to depart and who will remain.He does not want to become a scar for someone else to bear. (Especially not Jiang Cheng. He has enough scars as it is.)This ink will soon wash away. It holds no spiritual power. It will never be seen.And yet, by its very existence, an oath is made. Three days gives him three mornings and nights to count. From dawn to dusk he’s either trying to paint or looking over night-hunt reports. Standing at the window, drinking his medicine. The world really is a distraction. Everything else is waiting.Every evening Lan Xichen plays his guqin. Every morning he bathes in the spring. The ink washes clean, but the river inside him carves itself deeper.And slowly but surely, time passes. Jiang Cheng hates being wrong, but today he was wrong to disregard his chief manager’s warning. It is colder in the mountains, young master. A thicker cloak might be— he’d stopped listening. Once he’d scrubbed himself clean of mud, he threw on whatever clothing he had on hand and took off on Sandu.The problem ended up being the elders pushing all the hard labour onto the guest disciples. After shouting them all into submission, Jiang Cheng had stated that all hands were needed, so all hands would be used. He had joined in with the efforts for two of the three days, which MinZhen assured him would boost morale, and it did.After ensuring everyone was doing their part, he left as soon as possible. Three days wouldn’t be long in any other circumstance, but it cut out what time he could spend here. After this, when will he next be able to return? It’s this thought that shook off any of his tiredness. Now as he rises up the mountainside, everything is coated in a thin layer of white. Not enough snow to build a snowman, but enough to leave behind a trail of footprints.He passes straight through the Gusu Lan barriers without needing to present his jade token. The patrol guards watch blandly as he heads straight towards the hanshi.When he lands, however, he finds that it is truly freezing. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering all the snow around him, but fuck it… it is. Yunmeng hardly ever gets snow, so despite his core keeping him warm, he is shocked when his breath comes out like a cloud. He is even more stunned to find the person he was looking for already outside.Sat on a bench, the First Jade is almost camouflaged against the scenery. Has he been sat there for long? At first, he is horrified thinking he sat long enough for a layer of snow to form on top of him, but then he realises it’s just that his cloak is also white. White robes, white boots, white cloak. Jiang Cheng’s mouth twitches when he sees the messy paw prints scattered all around the building.Lan Xichen looks up, his hood slipping back slightly. Of course, he’s already smiling, but when he sees Jiang Cheng his mouth parts in delight. Jiang Cheng cuts him off before he can speak, waving an arm around emphatically. “What the fuck?”“It began snowing last night.”“Last night?!” Jiang Cheng is torn between admiring the gorgeous landscape and criticising its bizarre occurrence. “It’s only been three days! The weather has really been so strange this year…”“Has the flooding been dealt with?” Lan Xichen asks, but the sound of chattering teeth has him frowning at Jiang Cheng’s attire. “Oh Wanyin, you aren’t dressed properly at all.”“Neither were you the last time,” Jiang Cheng sneers. Then he spots something between Lan Xichen’s legs and bends down to take a closer look. “Mind explaining what it is you’re doing?”There is a large basket wedged between the other man’s knees and he appears to be layering straw at the bottom. Is he planning to harvest something? But what could grow in this season? Lan Xichen swings the basket over his shoulder. “Foraging,” is his answer.“Obviously.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “But for what?”Lan Xichen gestures for him to follow. They head indoors and Jiang Cheng sucks in a deep, grateful breath of warmed air. When Lan Xichen hands him the basket and goes to fetch something, his explanation begins with a name which is really a whole story in and of itself: “Jingyi.”“Fuck.” Jiang Cheng coughs, laughter already swelling in his chest. “What did he do now?”“It’s something we used to do together when he and Sizhui were little,” Lan Xichen explains. “When the persimmons start to ripen, WangJi and I would take the boys with us to pick them. Jingyi particularly enjoyed doing this. When they grew tall enough to do it by themselves though, we decided to leave them to it. Unfortunately, every year since… they have been caught by Uncle—”“Oh god.”“Sizhui says that this time Jingyi managed to eat twelve fruits before he was pulled out of the tree. The penalty was four hours of handstands. That’s not nearly as bad as last year,” Lan Xichen insists when Jiang Cheng snorts. “Last year he came back and threw up literally everything. Since he was unable to do handstands, he ended up writing rules until the following spring. This year shows he’s actually learnt some restraint.”His laughter escapes him like steam from a lidded pot. “You call that restraint? Pulled out of the—” Jiang Cheng cannot stop laughing, even when he finds Lan Xichen has stopped. He is still grinning, despite himself. “What?”“Nothing,” he says. “I just like making you laugh.”“By shaming your disciples?”Lan Xichen smiles, “By any means.”Jiang Cheng shakes his head, cheeks aching. “And now you’re planning to reward his bad behaviour?”“No, I’m rewarding his… tenacity.”“Do you really think he needs any more of that?”Lan Xichen turns with a cloak held in his hands. “Do you want to come or not?” Snowy white with thick fur at the collar… it looks cosy. Jiang Cheng walks closer, aching for some of that warmth. “Please,” Lan Xichen says, stepping towards him, “Allow me.”His hands are full so he can’t protest when the cloak is wrapped around his shoulders and tied under his chin. Jiang Cheng eyes Lan Xichen’s own matching cloak and wishes he could touch the soft fur curling at his neck. “So is this what happens to the rabbits when they, you know…” He crosses his eyes, sticking out his tongue.“Jiang Cheng!” The puff of affronted laughter softens the shock of his birth name spoken. At this point, Jiang Cheng figures it’s not so significant as to warrant any mention, even if it does catch him by surprise. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s said it anyway. When Lan Xichen straightens his collar and pulls the hood over his head... Jiang Cheng can’t help but think that this is nostalgic. Not slapping towels on each others’ faces, but lending each other clothes, making really bad jokes, and casually using each other’s birth names in a way that it almost seems familiar.Jiang Cheng scrunches up his nose. “Oh, you smell weird,” he says. Lan Xichen must have had this cloak for a while because it has become saturated with mint and sandalwood—a much, much nicer scent. Jiang Cheng presses his face into the fur to protect his nose. “How much tea have you been drinking?”“A lot.”“And?”Lan Xichen shrugs.“Increase the dose then,” Jiang Cheng suggests. He doesn’t know much about medicine. If he can get away with it, he’ll sleep off an injury rather than treating it (much to everyone's despair). “What about the pain?”“Manageable. Listen, can we… can we not do this? Please? I get asked this every day.”“Fine then. Let’s go.” As soon as Jiang Cheng steps foot out of the hanshi, he squints dubiously at the skies. “You know, I think the weather is telling us to stay indoors.” “Is it?” Lan Xichen strides confidently ahead. “Well, that’s just too bad. Jingyi is relentless. If he doesn’t get his persimmons somehow, he’ll only try again. Then I’m afraid he might actually push Sizhui to his limit.”“Sizhui has a limit?”Lan Xichen only smiles thinly in response. They head in a direction Jiang Cheng has never been before. Using his spiritual sense, he can see a long path stretching far ahead of them. Lan Xichen must be mad wanting to walk so far just for some fruit. Mad, or deeply devoted to his disciples. Sizhui can’t be that frightening when angered, can he? Then again, it’s always the quiet ones who tend to snap.“I suppose it’s a good thing I came,” he says. Lan Xichen glances at him. “When you walk too far and fall on your face, just who do you suppose will have to carry you back? Hey! Be careful! The ground is slippery here!” Jiang Cheng grabs Lan Xichen’s elbow when he seems to lose his balance. The creek isn’t that deep, but the rocks are smooth and wet. “Watch your step. We don’t want you to ‘trip’ again,” he teases.For whatever reason, Lan Xichen doesn’t seem to find this very funny. After an awkward pause, they continue walking. Jiang Cheng hefts the basket onto his hip and keeps an eye out for more slippery rocks. “Are you not tired?” Lan Xichen asks out of the blue.“Tired?” Jiang Cheng echoes. “I mean… two days of digging mud isn’t exactly light work.”“Yet you still flew here.” Lan Xichen pulls a branch aside, letting him duck under first. “And after painting those seals, you have been without rest for several days.” He walks out into the clearing, a dusting of snow sparkling in his hair. “You should take better care of yourself.”“…”“Once we get back I’ll arrange for dinner to be brought to you—”“Oh, look!” Jiang Cheng interrupts, pointing at the twisting trees laden with bright orange fruits. “Wow, so many…!”The branches droop with the weight of the persimmons, and heavy rain has dragged enough down that the floor is littered with soggy, crushed fruit. The topmost branches seem to have the best ones. Lan Xichen snaps off a few bunches and places them in the basket. He adds some leaves. When Jiang Cheng stares, he explains: “Tea for shūfu.”He smirks. “As a peace offering?”“We’ve learnt that sometimes it helps. Once it was me and WangJi climbing these trees,” Lan Xichen says, smiling as he takes in their surroundings. Whatever he’s remembering, Jiang Cheng can tell it’s a good memory. “That’s the reason Uncle hates the boys picking persimmons. One time I fell and broke my leg.”Jiang Cheng halts as a childhood memory suddenly rushes over him. Next thing he knows, he’s telling Lan Xichen a story about how the arrival of one boy resulted in three beloved puppies being sent away. He doesn’t gloss over how angry that made him. It may have been years, but Jiang Cheng still remembers crying for his dogs, and just the thought of sweet Jasmine (who was the meekest of the three) wondering why she was being taken away.It gets funnier though when he recounts how much he panicked when Wei Wuxian went missing. Then how Wei Wuxian fell out of a tree at some point and claimed he’d broken his leg. Poor A-Jie ended up running all over the place trying to save her idiot brothers, one who hurt his leg, the other who fell down a ditch…By the end of it, Lan Xichen is sat on a rock wheezing into his hands. Jiang Cheng grins, but really it’s incredible that when he looks back at those times now, the pain has dulled with those wounds forming scars. He chuckles to himself, turning his attention towards the higher branches with the better-looking fruit. “Do you reckon those branches can hold my weight?”“Please don’t… please don’t break your legs…”“I’m the only one around here allowed to break anyone's legs.”Lan Xichen coughs, thumping his chest as he gasps for breath. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng considers mounting Sandu to get up there... but where would be the fun in that? How ironic is it that in his youth he’d been so desperate to fly, but now climbing seems far more appealing? For a while, he ponders whether there is a dignified way to climb a tree, but then he dismisses the thought. Who even cares how he looks? It’s just the two of them anyway. Years of scrambling after Wei Wuxian have given him better climbing skills than most.Once he is in the tree, Lan Xichen continues walking below him, stepping light-footed around the soggy fallen fruit. Jiang Cheng reaches for one plump persimmon. It turns into mush in his hand. He grabs another— “Are you fucking kidding me?!” “Cut them at the branch. Choose less ripe ones.”“…” Sandu ends up with the most mundane task it’s ever been given: cutting off fruit. The basket gets filled very quickly. Jiang Cheng plants himself on a middling branch and cuts two fat persimmons off, twisting nearly upside down to hand one to Lan Xichen. Halfway munching through his, he asks, “So, what are you doing for Winter Solstice?”“Hm?”“Do you celebrate it, or is it like the Qixi Festival for you Lans?”“We observe it as we do for every festival. First a celebration banquet, then some readings.”“Sounds exciting.” Jiang Cheng is no stranger to tradition, but somehow the thought of this type of celebration makes him want to yawn. It is no better than school lectures! How boring it must be for the disciples. In this case, he pities poor Jingyi the most. “What sorts of things are read?”“Uncle often makes a speech. We play music together. Sometimes there is even poetry.” Lan Xichen’s face lights up then. “Speaking of poetry, in our last letter, you said that you had something you wanted to share with me?”Jiang Cheng chokes. It takes a few hacks until he can speak. “No, I didn’t.”“You wrote that you were bored copying out other people’s poems. I replied that we must find some other source of material for you then. Then you told me you had a different idea…” Lan Xichen raises his eyebrows. “Which I am really, really hoping involves you creating something yourself.”“…”“Wanyin?”“Okay, so I’m just considering…” Jiang Cheng hooks his arm above, hauling himself up to reach another persimmon. “Do you remember what I said a couple of days ago about lotuses?”Lan Xichen, “About them not suffering underwater?”“Well, I was thinking about that, but… I didn’t want to commit anything to paper before running it by you. It’s just a thought. A passing observation really. Nothing even anything that special.”“I disagree.” Lan Xichen holds a third fruit but doesn’t bite into it. “If it means something to you then it’s already special. Whether I agree with you or not, you should share your thoughts regardless. If it helps, I’m always impressed with your work.”That doesn’t help at all. Jiang Cheng didn’t have to be there the last time Lan Xichen read one of his ‘works’. He didn’t have to anticipate his reaction or worry about being misunderstood. It’s one thing to speak freely with one another, but to share one’s innermost thoughts… Actually he’s already done that, so this really shouldn’t be so terrifying. It shouldn’t, but it is.“Alright then, listen to this.” Jiang Cheng leans back against the tree trunk, hunching his shoulders. “The lotus springs from the mud.[1]” Lan Xichen’s hood falls backwards and he stares up at Jiang Cheng, who peers back through the sparse covering of leaves. “Well?” he barks when the staring goes on too long. “Say something!”“I like it.”He waits and then glares. “And? Is that all?!”“My friend, you truly have a gift for words,” Lan Xichen says earnestly. “It’s beautiful.”Jiang Cheng knows it’s beautiful. Anything involving lotuses is already beautiful, but… what does it say about him to have thought up such a thing? Does it not reveal rather a lot about him? What of the mud that dirties the waters? What of the time it takes the lotus to grow? Who’s to say the lotus will surface at all?(What if it never does?) “Isn’t it pretentious though? It’s probably been said before, hasn’t it?”“So what if it has? This would be a great comfort spoken to someone who is suffering badly. A reminder to be patient, or to hope. It even matches the last thing you wrote.” Lan Xichen spreads his hands out: “Thank the rain for the flowers. The lotus springs from the mud.”Jiang Cheng frowns, “How do those even match? You’re thinking about couplets[2], aren’t you?” After all the banners he made for the wedding, Jiang Cheng could spot this type of thing a mile away! “But… but they aren’t complimentary at all!”“Aren’t they? One encourages growth, the other praises the effort that takes. Both even involve flowers—”“Okay, okay,” he snaps, tossing another persimmon into Lan Xichen’s lap. “Since you like it so much, I will write it for you... but don’t go sharing it around with others!”For a few minutes, Jiang Cheng explores the tree-tops, leaping from branch to branch. The few leaves still clinging onto the wood rain down below, and Lan Xichen tries to snatch them out of the air. He glances down a few times to check but the man merely looks amused by his antics. He drops down to the ground, landing cat-like on his toes. Moving around has kept him warm, but what about Lan Xichen? He has gone so quiet.Jiang Cheng goes to sit with him and flips part of his borrowed cloak over his knees. He has three persimmons left tucked in his sleeve. They will have to share the last one between them.“Remind me why you hate the Qixi Festival myth so much?” Lan Xichen holds up his hands when Jiang Cheng shoots him a warning look. “I’m only asking because I wonder what you would consider a story worth telling if not that one?”Jiang Cheng scowls but then settles down to think. “Maybe a story that was a little more... realistic,” he finally says. “Or maybe one with a happy ending—or maybe both, though that’s probably asking for too much.” “Well, I can tell you a story that you already know of that is both legend and real.” This, Jiang Cheng cannot believe. “You do know it,” Lan Xichen insists, grinning. “Unless you have forgotten all of your lessons here at the Cloud Recesses?”Just the mention of lessons brings forth the answer. Jiang Cheng blinks a few times. “Are you talking about Lan An?” He pauses, then squints. “Your ancestor? That guy?”“Oh good, you remembered,” Lan Xichen praises, handing him the rest of his fruit. Jiang Cheng sputters. Was he expecting him not to? “You’re saying that he was… but how?”“Technically we know so little about his life that most of what is written is as good as fiction. The legend goes that after his fated person passed away, in spite of the sadness this caused him, he was truly grateful for the time they had together and wanted their children to experience the same joy they had shared. He asked for their unions to be blessed by the heavens."In that way, he hoped to ensure their happiness. They would be honoured together as paired souls, never to be separated.”Jiang Cheng really doesn’t know what to say to this. Both real and a legend? He flips back into the tree, swinging upright to straddle a branch. “Never to be separated,” he murmurs, feeling slightly annoyed when Lan Xichen turns his attention towards juggling the two remaining fruits. “But how would that even work with reincarnation?”He shrugs, smiling serenely. “Maybe it just means that they will meet in every lifetime.”“Hmph.”“No one can say what is true and what is not, and who’s to say if that even matters?”Jiang Cheng pauses in climbing. “What do you mean?”The juggling stops abruptly, juice spilling over his fingers. “Even I am not sure what I mean."Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall to the white strip resting on Lan Xichen’s brow. Under the pale grey skies, it gleams like a circlet of polished silver. “Your forehead ribbon,” he says. (A flash of memory comes, taking him back to that Discussion Conference when Wei Wuxian tugged Lan Wangji’s ribbon off. His reaction to that had been so bizarre… come to think of it, didn’t Lan Xichen react similarly just a few days ago?)“Oh yes.” Lan Xichen sounds almost embarrassed. “You wanted to know their significance.”Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes when Lan Xichen’s gaze skitters away. “Wei Wuxian told me it’s to do with regulating oneself, but now I’m beginning to wonder if the actual reason is related to this.”Lan Xichen only answers after a long moment of hesitation. “While it is true that it is indeed meant for self-discipline, our ribbons are also a reminder of our founder’s promise, symbolising not only restraint but also the blessing of our love found. One cannot allow just anyone to touch it. That is reserved for… that is only for…”He doesn’t have to finish that sentence.At such a height, Jiang Cheng suddenly feels rather unsteady. Half the blood in his body has suddenly rushed to his head and back again. So the forehead ribbon… the forehead ribbon is indeed quite important!When Lan Xichen doesn’t mention what almost happened, Jiang Cheng babbles, “Well as far as legends go that one isn’t really that bad. Do you believe it really happened though? About the blessing and… and everything else?”Lan Xichen says quietly, “I suppose I do. After all, I do feel blessed for what love I have found.”“Well, that’s great. I think I prefer this story of yours,” Jiang Cheng declares, still trying to process ‘one cannot allow just anyone to touch it’. What a fucking near-miss that was! “Especially compared to The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl. I still don’t understand why everyone likes that story so much. The ending is awful. Does it make any sense that such a thing became so popular?”“It’s quite romantic, don’t you think?”“In the end, they were separated.”“But the bridge—”“Fuck the bridge. The bridge means nothing. It’s a tragic story, okay? It’s fucking depressing. Don’t give me that look. Are you trying to say that it isn’t?!”“No.”“Despite that, it is currently the most popular folktale around! Can you explain to me why that is? Why are people so addicted to sadness? It’s ridiculous! As if life weren’t difficult enough—”“Jiang Cheng.”(He likes it, he’s decided. His name spoken, even in this tone, sounds nice. It’s been far too long since he heard it from someone other than Wei Wuxian.)“It’s only tragedies that are spoken of again and again. No one likes a happy ending.”“But you do?”Jiang Cheng nods. To anyone else, he would never admit this, but here he feels no shame. It’s long been a thought of his that stories burn the heroes to add to their effect. Like adding wood to a fire just to enjoy a little more of that warmth. He hates that. “I do,” he says quietly. “If it’s not achievable in life, why not imagine a happy ending? Sometimes it’s all one can do to hope. When I can’t even manage that, I dream of it instead.”“Beautiful.”
Beautiful?
What does he, oh… but the sky. It’s snowing! A light shower of tiny white specks flutters around them. Jiang Cheng holds out a hand to watch it melt and blinks away some snowflakes that get caught in his lashes. As he looks over the landscape again, he will take this memory back with him to Yunmeng.Lan Xichen waits until he turns to him again, his expression soft but oddly intense. “If ever our lives were to be written, I would truly be lucky to have mine written by you. Then one day I might hope to rise from this mud.”Jiang Cheng wants to say pardon? and several other similar exclamations, but he doesn’t even know where to start. What mud could Lan Xichen be talking about? His misplaced guilt? His grief? Before he can ask, Lan Xichen stands and plucks a persimmon that hangs just out of Jiang Cheng’s reach. Sharp white teeth sink into it, not a drop of juice spilt.He passes the rest up to Jiang Cheng, whose eyebrows are deep in conversation with his hairline by this point. His mind is stuck on the thought of mud and legends and fucking forehead ribbons. To have Lan Xichen say all this and then walk away from it, his step jaunty and almost smug—he does not see the way Jiang Cheng’s face drains of colour, nor hear the silent exhale of the breath he did not dare release sooner.The persimmon weighs as much as the world in his hand, and Jiang Cheng stares blankly at the perfectly round bite mark. For some reason, his mouth has gone dry. Then he notices that the basket remains leaning against the rock, and Lan Xichen’s stride is becoming more of a limp. Jiang Cheng tosses the fruit aside and hits the ground hard. When he catches up to him, Lan Xichen is laughing quietly to himself. It isn’t a happy sound at all. “I’ll admit… I had hoped I might leave just as dramatically as you tend to arrive, but it seems that even that it is beyond my capabilities.”Jiang Cheng shivers. He swings the basket over his shoulder and is about to grab Lan Xichen’s arm… but then he sees how the man has stopped completely in his tracks and is suddenly reminded of what happened at the festival. (Can we head back now?)Lan Xichen isn’t even able to meet his eyes right now. Jiang Cheng regards the man in front of him and weighs his options. There is an offer he made which still stands. Lan Xichen never opposed it, which is probably as close to acceptance as he’s going to get, so Jiang Cheng straps the basket across his front and then he circles around him to kneel— “What are you doing?”This shouldn’t need explaining. “Didn’t I say that I’d carry you back when you tire yourself out?” Scooting backwards till he knocks into Lan Xichen’s knees, he hears a startled gasp. “You didn’t even fall on your face. Honestly, I was expecting that. What are you waiting for? Hop on.”“Jiang Cheng…”“We walked a lot today. It’s no wonder you’re tired,” Jiang Cheng says. “Now are you going to make me kneel all day?”It should be too much: several kilos of persimmons, the thick fur cloak, and then a full-grown man on top of all that. It should be impossible to stand, but Jiang Cheng stands. Impossible to walk, and yet he walks. He tells himself: if A-Jie managed to do this, so can I. Only it’s different here. Are the Lans’ bones made out of stone? Is that the secret behind their strength? How can someone so solidly built also be so frail? Lan Xichen’s fingertips dig painfully into his shoulders, but then his arms come around to drape across his chest. “Jiang Cheng,” he says.“Yes?”There is a warm breath tickling his ear, a sheet of black silk spilling over his shoulder, bitter herbs and sandalwood wafting into his face, a plume of it catching in his throat. Jiang Cheng shifts his load higher on his back, forcing the air out of both of them. He can feel Lan Xichen’s heart fluttering like a trapped bird against his spine. It’s beating so fast that Jiang Cheng wonders, is he drinking enough? Is this from stress? Is he having a heart attack??Just saying his name like this though, what does it mean? He hasn’t the breath to ask, and so he can only wait to hear what Lan Xichen says next.“Jiang Cheng, you know... you do so much. You carry so much,” Lan Xichen murmurs, resting his head against Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “I cannot help you. I can only thank you... so thank you, my friend, for everything.” “Turn the page for me, Jin Ling.”“Are you serious? Do it yourself. This is your own damn fault.”“My arms are dead as rocks! Have some mercy, Young Mistress.”“Sizhui, he’s doing it again!”Usually, Sizhui would respond to his name called with such urgency, but this has been going on for a while now. Lan Sizhui is done. He continues flicking through his own book. The fact that he has even agreed to do this only speaks of how persistent Jingyi can be. Family archives. It’s not exactly a thrilling read.In the back of his head, he knows that this is how his fellow Mini Jade shows that he cares.Whenever he is overly stressed by something, Jingyi will try to act as a distraction. This time Jingyi decided to kill two birds with one stone and distract him with their annual fruit heist, which resulted in them doing four full hours of handstands. With Teacher’s agreement, Jingyi chose to do this as handstand push-ups, hoping to cut down on the time by increasing the intensity of his punishment. It worked, but two hours of handstand push-ups? It is absolutely his own goddamn fault he was suffering now! Sizhui is just glad he didn’t throw up this time. Even so, twelve persimmons worth of sugar are currently pumping through Jingyi’s veins. He has half a mind to make him vomit them up, but that in itself would be… messy.“Sizhui, have you found anything? I can’t—” Jingyi is attempting to lick the page over. That’s right. Lick it. With his tongue. “My arms are on fire. I literally can’t move. Argh. Read to me. I can’t—”“Make him shut up, for the love of god,” Jin Ling snarls, slamming his head repeatedly onto his own book. “Read to him. If you won’t, Ouyang-xiong probably would… wait, where is Ouyang-xiong? I swear to god Jingyi, if you don’t stop doing that I will cut off your tongue! ” Jin Ling frowns when the eldest lets out a worryingly long sigh. “Sizhui? What is it?”“Where is Ouyang-xiong, you ask,” Sizhui echoes, viciously digging fingers into his temples. “If I have to answer that, I will scream.”“What do you mean?” Jin Ling asks, this time rather alarmed. He’s spent the last few days organising his workload (and cuddling Fairy). Sometime during that, Ouyang mysteriously disappeared. They didn’t go night-hunting without him, did they? He isn’t dead, is he?!“Jingyi, your mouth is clearly still working. Explain.”Jingyi clears his throat, completely unsympathetic. “If he were able to do handstands, he’d be here with us right now.”Sizhui smacks a hand on the table. “Explain properly. From the beginning.” “It’s simple, Young Mistress,” Jingyi says quite pleasantly. “Ouyang-xiong is also being punished.”Jin Ling narrows his eyes, sensing that this is the source of Sizhui’s pain. “Punished for what, exactly?”“I will literally scream,” Sizhui warns, pinching his fingers together. “Jingyi, I am this close.”“But you told me to explain! What do you want me to do?” There is a pause, where Jin Ling considers pressing the issue. Jingyi, however, decides to strike a bargain: “Tell me what you’re reading then. I’m bored, but you know I can get much worse than this.”Sizhui’s breath hisses through his teeth. “I’m reading what you told me to read. The Lan family records. There are few actual accounts, probably due to what was happening at the time.”Jin Ling, “What was happening?”“They were settling here, in Gusu,” he answers. “Think about it: at the time, they were probably weren’t thinking about documenting their lives. Instead, they were busy making a living, and chose to write down whatever they liked… priorities are different when the future is uncertain.”Jin Ling only looks confused by this, but Sizhui doesn’t know how to explain it. When you’re hungry, tired, and uncertain of the future… you expect to see tomorrow but never plan for more than that. You build things to last, but don’t cry over them breaking. At the end of the day, you hope to live better in your dreams. The moment you’re living in is all there is—“I keep telling you,” Jingyi says. “There’s nothing left to find here. We need to go downstairs.”Sizhui slams the book shut. “Absolutely not.”Jin Ling, “What’s downstairs?”They’re currently crammed in a corner of the Library Pavilion. One second Jingyi is a sprawling mess on the floor, the next he is springing up with boundless enthusiasm. He leans towards Jin Ling eagerly, “Downstairs is the—”“Jingyi.” Sizhui lunges across, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Please. I am begging you. You have literally come straight from one punishment. Are you really asking for another one?” Deep breaths, he tells himself, wiping his hand on his sleeve. “Licking is an awful habit.”“Is it the Room of Forbidden Books?” Jin Ling asks. Seeing the colour drain out of Sizhui’s face, he quickly adds, “It’s alright. Uncle Wei told me about it. But if there’s nothing to find here, what are you hoping to find in there?”“I can’t explain it. Not until I see it,” Jingyi insists, already dragging a reluctant Sizhui to his feet. Jin Ling is more obliging if only because he’s curious. It’s rather worrying seeing Sizhui resign himself to being shoved and pulled along. It’s like his soul has left his body!“I thought you said you couldn’t move,” Jin Ling mentions, sniggering when Jingyi pointedly ignores him.“Hanguang-Jun will kill us. Teacher will kill us. Think about that. Think about Ouyang-xiong,” Sizhui pleads, digging in his heels. His boots squeak on the polished wood floors. “Would he not hate to be left out of this?”Jingyi, “It’s his own fault for getting caught reading porn—”“Not so loud, Jingyi! Please!”They end up in front of a row of bookshelves like any other, but at this one JingYi kicks over one of the mats on the ground. With another agonised sigh, Sizhui bends down to remove the wooden board, under which is a trapdoor. “We have one too,” is all Jin Ling says, though his eyes twinkle with excitement. The three march downstairs, and then… then it is the same as it was the past few hours. Forbidden books aren’t actually that exciting. Once Jin Ling is thoroughly fed up with the whole thing, he stomps over to where Jingyi is bullying Sizhui into reading to him. This is truly testing his friendship with these two idiots. The repeated thump of his head hitting the table could cause an earthquake.“You shouldn’t do that down here, Young Mistress,” Jingyi says. “Why not?”“Why not? I’ll tell you why not. Because if you were to thump your head onto a book, you'd leave a little red dot behind, but these are the special texts of the Gusu Lan. If you leave a red mark on these books Teacher will know. Then he will look at all of us and guess which one he will—”“Jingyi, will you stop talking? I swear, I’m never letting you have sugar again!” They have wedged the trapdoor open, so Sizhui fears anyone passing might hear them from above. “Please, let’s just finish this so we can leave.”The problem with Jingyi having too much sugar is that it makes him restless. Drumming his fingers. Squirming. Blowing raspberries. Pulling faces. When Jin Ling starts fiddling with Suihua, alarm bells start going off in Sizhui’s head. He quickly shoves a scroll into the boy’s hands, narrowly preventing a murder. Jin Ling unrolls it and squints. “Your family tree?”“Senior Wei has a point,” Jingyi pipes up, oblivious to his near-brush with death. “So we are trying two angles. Firstly, lineage: if Zewu-Jun’s illness is indeed natural, there’s a possibility it could be hereditary. Secondly—Sizhui, will you stop with that face? That makes you look like Hanguang-Jun, and not in a good way!”The second must be the songbooks, Jin Ling surmises, though Jingyi doesn’t bother with explaining why. He cannot even begin to understand the way Jingyi thinks and is rather grateful for that. As he turns his attention back to the faded document, Sizhui starts humming aloud one of the songs he’s reading. He’s probably not even aware he’s doing it.But it's like when Fairy spots a squirrel.Jingyi’s head whips up, his head cocking sideways.After a few minutes of Sizhui completely ignoring this, Jingyi starts slapping him excitedly to gain his attention. That’s when Sizhui tackles him to the floor and Jin Ling is left feeling like the only responsible (sane) member of the group. It seems that Sizhui has finally reached his limit. Fights like this are not exactly uncommon, so he knows to wait it out. They are evenly matched, but then Jingyi yelps—“Quiet!” Sizhui shoves Jingyi down. “But Sizhui, did you not hear that?” Jingyi pants. “The song was... tell me you heard that!” He jumps up, running around them like a dog chasing its tail. “I can’t believe we’ve been so blind! We need to go through all of Lan An’s works again! This is it! Don’t you see? This is how—”“Please calm down,” Sizhui says with as much authority as he can manage. “I will go retrieve the books. Just… calm down, okay? Breathe.” He shoots Jin Ling a look that says you’re in charge and is about to leave when— “Preposterous! Every year! Every year it is the same thing!”Sizhui and Jingyi freeze on the spot. Even Jin Ling can recognise that voice by now: Lan Qiren! By the sound of it, he isn't that far away!Without hesitation, the three of them point at their noses, one by one… but it's really not Sizhui’s lucky day. He is just a fraction too late. He gulps loudly, but then puts on the same brave face he does during night-hunts, but just as they do during night-hunts, Jin Ling and Jingyi follow right behind him, all the way up the stairs. It’s there that Sizhui signals: stay until I call for you. Don’t make a sound! He scurries out before Jingyi can stop him, but then—the trapdoor! They are just in time to see Lan Qiren round the corner. When Sizhui kicks the rug back over, Jingyi throws his hands up, and suddenly there is just a thin slither of light visible. Jin Ling hears Jingyi grunting, but he's… he’s actually holding up the door with Sizhui and Lan Qiren’s weight on top of it!!(Incredible! Is this the incredible Lan arm strength? It seems all the handstands have actually come to some use!)For what feels like ages, they listen to Sizhui rambling apologies to Teacher and Teacher scolding him for not keeping Jingyi away from the persimmon trees. (Persimmon trees? Jin Ling thinks he might be better off not asking.) Another voice joins in. Jin Ling gasps, but... but what is he doing here? Teacher seems just as perplexed, but then both of their voices drift away.After a few more minutes, Jingyi lets out a whimper.The trapdoor shoots up without Sizhui’s weight. He has a finger pressed to his lips, eyes cast to the side. By this point, Jingyi is trembling violently all over from the exertion. Sizhui pulls him out first and then Jin Ling. “Well, that was a close save. Senior Jiang arrived just in time.”“Jiùjiu?” Jin Ling thought that it was him, but is still surprised. “He’s back? What did he do?”“He distracted Teacher for us,” Sizhui answers, sounding rather dazed. He checks Jingyi over, murmuring comfortingly, “So your arms are still working? That’s good. You did really well.”When they return to their study table, Jin Ling lets out a muffled squeak. Jiang Cheng is sitting right where they were earlier, quietly reading through their notes! He takes his time finishing the sentence he’s on before lifting his gaze. What a look! Jingyi gives up and basically melts, sliding down to become one with the floor. Fairy goes to sniff him and whines sadly.“It’s good to see you boys studying, but next time you want to go around exploring secret rooms,” Jiang Cheng says, raising his brows, “Try being a little quieter and you might actually get away with it.”Advice? He's giving them advice? Jin Ling sinks to the floor as well. “Jiùjiu, you aren’t scolding us?”“It’s not my job to scold you here.” He reaches behind him to bring out a large basket of—“Oh my god.” Jingyi claws Sizhui’s ankle weakly but is otherwise unable to properly express his delight. “Sizhui, look… look how many… oh, I need them—”“Whatever happened to manners?” Jiang Cheng muses, taking a large bite from a persimmon. He chews slowly. “How shameless.” He devours the rest of it in three bites. Sizhui allows this to happen but then takes pity on the idiot scrabbling at his leg. He can’t ever seem to catch a break with Jingyi, but this is what he signed up for. He shuffles over, dragging Jingyi along with him. “Senior Jiang, please have mercy.”Jiang Cheng grunts, grabbing one persimmon and stuffing it in Jingyi’s mouth like a suckling pig.Somehow he manages to eat it all without his hands. It’s horrifying to watch, but then Jingyi smacks his lips and wriggles around to face the amused Sect Leader. “Shūshu, what are you even doing here?”Straight to shūshu!Jiang Cheng looks a little flustered by this. He takes a moment to wipe his mouth. It’s true that they’ve gotten to know each over the summer, but being called shūshu so casually after also having his birth name used? It’s a lot to adjust to in one day. “Why does one go to a library?” he muses sarcastically, lifting up his book. “Think before you speak.”“May we join you, Uncle?” Sizhui asks politely. With Jiang Cheng’s approval, he sits down. “Thank you for the fruit.”Jingyi has no survival instinct. The sugar seems to have addled his brain. “What are you reading?” When Sizhui makes to scold him, he pipes up, “Uncle likes directness! You should know this by now.”Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of manners (he probably wasn’t even bothered in the first place) but seems uneasy at his question. It’s then that Jin Ling notices he has a stack of books resting on his lap, and these books are… tilting his head, he can’t stop himself blurting out: “Poems?”“Poems?” Jingyi perks up. “Oh, that’s nice! Which ones?”“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng says automatically. His face is red. Jin Ling shakes his head in disbelief. Poems! “Get your stuff and get lost. I’m sitting here now.”Rude, very rude, but none of the boys dares argue.Jin Ling grabs as many books as he can and Sizhui picks up the basket. Meanwhile, Jingyi tries his best to sneak a glimpse of what poems he’s reading. He seems to have forgotten his previous scoldings completely (as Sizhui often says: twice burnt, never shy). “Why aren’t you with Zewu-Jun?” he asks, blinking up at Jiang Cheng’s impassive face. “Is he busy?”“He’s resting.” “How long are you staying?”“I’m leaving tonight."After Jiang Cheng adds nothing more to this, the three shuffle across the room to look for another table. As soon as they find one, they resume discussing the merits of returning to the Forbidden Room. Though they didn’t spend long enough in there to see everything, Jingyi seems adamant—“We have it all here,” he insists, pointing at the songbooks. “You see? I was right all along! It’s right here, don’t you see? It was always here!”“A-Yi,” Sizhui says soothingly, “You’re not making any sense. These are music scores—”“Exactly!”“Okay, now even I am lost as to what you’re thinking... and I always know what you’re thinking,” Sizhui says, his voice finally cracking a little. Jin Ling’s head is spinning between the two of them feeling utterly lost. “We’ve been studying these for weeks. What could you possibly have—”“Do you trust me?”Sizhui drags a hand down his face with a groan. “You know I do.”“Go get your guqin.”Sizhui stares. “We are not playing music in the library.”“Even I agree, that would be a dumb idea,” Jin Ling adds helpfully. “Me too,” Jiang Cheng calls from across the room.“…”Sizhui presses a book into Jingyi’s hands. “You were so keen on doing research, so why don’t you do some?”“When will Ouyang-xiong be done? Maybe he can help out,” Jin Ling says, hoping to distract Jingyi (Sizhui’s limit… how far does it go?). “How much punishment does being caught reading that sort of thing incur?”Jingyi, “I estimate no more than a week. I tried to teach him handstands, but he has no sense of balance. Sizhui, when did we start learning handstands?”Sizhui stares at the table. “I actually can’t remember.”A loud snort is heard. Jin Ling even grins a little when Jingyi starts going through his numerous offences, trying to find the source to no avail. Propping his chin on Sizhui to read over his shoulder, he continues: “The fact of the matter is that handstand push-ups are the quickest way to… oh, is that what women look like under their—”“Where are you even looking?!”“Shameless!” A flurry of action. Somehow a dusty medical scroll becomes blinding. The boys scrabble to roll it up with Jin Ling suffering the most, battling with Jingyi’s clumsy hands to the best of his ability. “Are you crazy?” he demands. “Do you never want to stand on your two feet again—argh! Don’t show me! Don’t show me!”“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, go read your songbooks!” Sizhui chides, shooing Jingyi away. Sizhui is pretty sure that the library has never been this noisy before. It’s actually lucky Jiang Cheng is the only other person there, because if Teacher was here... he lets out a long sigh, scribbling down some notes.
After leaving the temple, ancestor Lan An’s life between then and founding the clan remains largely undocumented. The only information we know is from his travel journals, wherein he wrote countless songs and poems for his…
“One volume is missing.” Jin Ling frowns, counting up the towering pile of books. “Yep, one is missing.”They brought all their materials with them though… didn’t they? Altogether, they turn to look in Jiang Cheng’s direction. Again, the boys hurry to point at their noses. This time, Jingyi is the one shuffling over, nervously nibbling on a persimmon for courage. Fairy trots behind him, his only loyal friend in this godforsaken—oh. She goes straight for Jiang Cheng. Of course. Jingyi hovers at the table for a bit but eventually sits down when Jiang Cheng doesn’t immediately protest. The book he is reading is unfortunately the missing volume… so Jingyi really doesn’t know what to do. When he sees the poem books are off to one side, he decides to play it safe and bide his time. It’s not what he came for, but as he picks through the collection, he murmurs approval for some that have been chosen. It seems that Jiang Cheng has pretty good taste.He is so focused on this that it takes him a moment to notice the unfamiliar voice humming under their breath. Jingyi’s stomach jolts. He’s been hearing this same tune every day this past week! One evening when he went to investigate he found Zewu-Jun playing the guqin with Fairy sat beside him. Ever since he was convinced he was playing music for the dog, but what if... this melody is unmistakable, but what is it doing being hummed by Jiang Cheng of all people? He’s not half bad. In fact, his voice is very good. Rich and deep, steady and perfectly in tune. He has good control. All of a sudden Jingyi wonders what he would sound like singing. By the time Jiang Cheng reaches the unfinished end of the tune, a hundred questions are waiting to be asked. There is only one that truly matters.“Who was that for?” Jiang Cheng jumps. Did he forget he was there? He scowls, handing Jingyi the book. “Who says it’s for anyone? Maybe I just heard it somewhere.”Jingyi’s fingers tremble. Heard it somewhere? When would he have heard it? He was gone these past few days, so that would mean… “Heard it from who?”“How is that any of your business?” Any softness in Jiang Cheng’s voice has vanished, and so Jingyi backs off wisely. Even then, the man doesn’t do anything. His temper is perfectly contained.Jingyi feels a bit dizzy and imagines this is what a deer feels like escaping a tiger. His mind is spinning with the strangest thoughts. Maybe it’s all the nights spent researching, maybe it’s the pressure of trying to keep Sizhui from spiralling into despair, or maybe it’s this song which Jiang Cheng doesn’t even seem to realise is… The question slips out of him: “Does it not bother you?”For a while, he isn’t sure Jiang Cheng is going to answer. Then he says, “That it remains unfinished? I suppose it does.” Luckily he is too busy rubbing Fairy’s belly to pay Jingyi any mind. “How would you end this song, if you could?”Jingyi doesn’t know what to say. Out of the two of them, Sizhui is much better at composing music. “I wouldn’t.” The song remains echoing in his aching skull. Before Jiang Cheng can ask, he adds, “I only say that because that is a song that is not meant to end.”There are musical scores that can be played from one end to the other, over and over in a never-ending loop. Jingyi doesn’t mean to say that this song is one of them. He doesn’t know what he means to say. How can he explain that it shouldn’t end? All he knows is that it mustn’t.“You have your book now,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly. “And I’ll be taking my leave now, so stop climbing trees, don’t eat all those fruits, and if Teacher finds you with them… run.”With that last bit of advice, Jiang Cheng calls for Fairy and then walks away. Jingyi waits for a few beats before he returns to the other two. There must be something wrong with his face because even Jin Ling is staring at him. He can’t control what his face is doing though. He’s heard something. Seen something. Felt something.But these two haven’t. It was sung too quietly, and they weren’t there. It probably wasn’t even meant to be heard—“Hey.” Jin Ling snaps his fingers. “Did Uncle traumatise you?”Jingyi stares at the songbooks.Hundreds of stories waiting to be told. Have they only ever been read? That isn’t good enough. Songs are meant to be sung. Jingyi sits down heavily, the haze of sugar-madness blurring his vision… or are these actual tears in his eyes? How is it that it’s this sugar-induced high has somehow allowed him to see so clearly? He feels like he scraped the bottom of nirvana and gotten a glimpse of—“Jingyi?” Sizhui asks gently. “What’s wrong?”“All of these are written… but they’re meant to be sung. Songs are made for singing, not reading. The answers are here.” He turns to Sizhui with pleading eyes, do you see it now? “Go get your guqin,” he repeats softly. This time without arguing, Sizhui goes. For the first time what feels like ages, Lan Xichen’s mouth tastes overwhelmingly sweet. Salt tears keep trickling into the corners of his mouth though. Bittersweet. He retches again.There isn’t much left to throw up, and by the end of it he feels achingly hollow. All those persimmons they ate mixed together with what seems like an ocean of medicinal tea. What would Wangji do if he saw him like this? He’d be horrified to know that Lan Xichen cannot keep anything down anymore. Food or water, it’s all too much.He should be worried.Instead, Lan Xichen wipes his mouth and splashes water onto his face. It’s not worth mentioning to his brother when… when he is still able to stand and walk. He walked too far this time, but the pain isn’t always so bad. It’s manageable. No one has to know.Even so, he always ends up crying afterwards.
Thank the rain for the flowers.
Be happy, he tells himself. You are blessed.Lan Xichen closes his eyes, but the tears do not stop. Dripping over his smiling mouth, he breathes deeply. Slowly his heart settles, and the song swells in his chest.Lan Xichen imagines that he is a flame. A candle. A star. A light that flickers brighter with every wave of happiness. Bobo just you wait, I’ll bring you a whole barrel of persimmons! A lone guqin joined by another, and then a flute. Two fathers and their son playing just for him. Stern hands that are still so warm, A-Huan, please. You mustn't go too far. Just find yourself and then come home…Blinking out of existence. His core, his light, his everything.If only others knew that it’s not his core that Jiang Cheng is stealing.In fact, he is giving him more things to hold onto. The lotus springs from the mud. Every time he comes Lan Xichen feels like winter turned to spring. But the seasons don’t make sense anymore. The weather has really been so strange this year… This is truly the last summer of his life. He can feel it creeping over him. Will he be allowed to keep this in his heart, or will he forget it in his next lifetime?Just the thought of leaving it behind shatters his calm. This is what grief is, he’s come to realise: all the love he has, with nowhere to put it.
Why not imagine a happy ending? Sometimes it’s all one can do to hope. When I can’t even manage that, I dream of it instead.
In his dreams he is running down a mountainside, he is swimming in a lotus lake, he is climbing trees and flying through storm-clouds. In his dreams, he is never sick. He is strong enough to carry Jiang Cheng. They can walk for miles together, and never… and never have to…At least there he can love him, in his dreams which have no end.
Lan Xichen blinks, and finds himself alone.
He hears buzzing and turns to look.
A dragonfly darts over his head, zooming across to hover over a... what on earth is that? he thinks. Stretching as far as the eye can see is a mighty river, both immensely long and wide. Lan Xichen blinks blearily, wondering what his subconscious has dredged up this time. He usually dreams about people he knows. Sworn brothers, little brothers, brothers-in-law, nephews, and of course, him.
A woman is standing at the edge, gazing out over the great expanse of water. Her hair runs down her back all the way to the ground, coiling further out of sight. Lan Xichen goes to join her, thinking she looks rather lonely standing all by herself. She doesn’t turn to look at him, but takes his hand—his hand which is small. He is a child again.
“Impossible,” she says. Lan Xichen looks around, but she is correct. There is no bridge in sight, no boats. The current is fast and the water is deep. “There is no bridge. The river is vast.”
When he hears this, he squeezes her hand comfortingly. A kiss is dropped on his forehead, but she is too tall for him to see. Lan Xichen twists his fingers through her hair and chews on his lip, tasting sweetness and bitter tears.
“How should we cross it?” he asks. “Is there a way? There must be some sort of...”
In that moment she disappears, and he is left to face the river alone. A wisp of her hair remains in his grip, a strip of silver white.
"It is vast," she repeats. "As endless as the sky itself." Her voice echoes like the breeze itself. “Find the bridge. That is the only way.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
All the words I gather,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm darkened or starry bright.
— ('Where My Books Go', W.B. Yeats)
Jiang Cheng longs for the day when there is no more mud under his nails. He’s pretty sure it’s sunk so deep into his pores that he will always feel gritty. How long has it been since he supervised a night-hunt? With the stench of rotting flesh and bloated bodies seared into his mind, such is the glamorous life of a Sect Leader. As the disciples run around him dealing with the drowned corpses, Jiang Cheng walks back and forth along the tree-line, a lantern swinging from his arm. Three days ago he left without saying goodbye, and even now he’s still thinking about it.He scribbled a message next to the… (What would you call it? A proverb? A poem?) the thing about lotuses: I’ll see you in a month. Will a month be long enough? Is it too long? Does it even matter anymore?However long the time is between visits, it won’t make any difference. Core stealing or core stolen, they will watch him and judge him either way. When he’d said the same thing to Jin Ling (“I’ll be back in a month”) the ungrateful lout had rolled his eyes heavenwards and whined about Jiang Cheng being too smothering. With Wei Wuxian grinning at him over Jin Ling’s shoulder, he’d really struggled resisting the urge to beat up the two of them. Jin Ling was getting taller every day it seemed, but Jiang Cheng still ruffled his hair and told him to study hard. That was when he saw Lan Wangji standing there, just watching them. He was possibly thinking about something, but with his face, it was hard to tell. Jiang Cheng left before he could think too much about it.Winter in Yunmeng is nothing like it is in the mountains. These old forests would be blessed to be touched by snow. Jiang Cheng can still remember the taste of frosty air, sharp and sweet. Down here the snowmelt only swells the riverbanks, adding to the problem of flooding. With the way things are going, soon the only way to get anywhere will have to be by sword. Lan Xichen cannot travel like this. Maybe next year, Jiang Cheng considers, but then… But then... he really doesn’t know how to finish that thought. Just last night he’d been in the middle of writing his latest letter to him, describing the process of shoring up for winter when he had paused mid-brushstroke. It occurred to him then that he was literally writing inventory lists now, and that Lan Xichen (being the polite man that he was) would surely endure reading it. He'd ripped up the letter and burnt it, but even after a full hour of wracking his brain, he had been unable to find anything better to write. That was when Jiang Cheng realised his life was really. Tragically. Boring.So much for giving Lan Xichen something to brighten his days.He imagines that Lan Xichen must be bored to death on the other side. Despite this, he has never complained once. One time Jiang Cheng tried adding in a made-up story to test if he was actually reading his letters. Lan Xichen then called him out on it, asking more and more questions until he had no choice but to surrender.The bastard knows him far too well.But now he’s running out of things to write. Despite this, Jiang Cheng tries to capture everything he can. The world seen through his discerning eyes. Everyone has noticed it, much to his displeasure. The Spiders, most of all, point out whenever he is squinting at something. Jiang Cheng has found himself walking slower these days too. Taking the time to listen. To watch. His footsteps often fall to match that same languid pace Lan Xichen took under the persimmon trees. Though it was not his feet that walked that path, he walks it now.But everywhere he walks, he walks alone.This is nothing new, but actually acknowledging it… sometimes Jiang Cheng will catch himself turning to speak to someone only to find nobody there. It brings an old sense of melancholy that tastes like salt and smells like burning wood. Where once it would have been Wei Wuxian he was hoping to see, now he finds himself wishing it was Lan Xichen. It’s inconvenient having to jot down every passing thought. If he were here, things would be easier. Not only would he save him from the world’s most boring banquet, but Lan Xichen would also probably find pleasure in even the most mundane aspects of his dull life.As Jiang Cheng scans the trees, a thought comes across him. What if he never gets to show Lan Xichen another Yunmeng celebration? He finds himself staring sightlessly at some moss on a half-buried log. The sound of voices snaps him out of it, and when he turns two disciples scramble away. Another one blushes deeply, stammering under Jiang Cheng’s cold glare.He abandons the cover of trees, light as a curl of mist. Walking as in deep thought, he pauses in front of a large boulder. Ferns cover the rock face, their shallow roots clinging tightly like a skin. He touches a frond gently as if to inspect the delicate tendrils—Jiang Cheng punches the stone.The movement is lightning fast, though Zidian doesn’t spark.Jiang Cheng inspects his hand, then punches the stone again.“S…Sect Leader?”The split skin drips blood freely. The boulder has cracked in two. Jiang Cheng strides past the stuttering disciples, his countenance much the same as before, sharp features arranged in remote dispassion. Wide eyes watch him suck his knuckles clean. He turns away to avoid them seeing him literally lick his wounds. Shame and frustration churn sour in his gut.All of this ‘what if, what if’ means nothing. Achieves nothing. “S-Sect Leader, is there anything…?”
There is barely anything.
Tendons tighten in Jiang Cheng’s neck as he works his jaw. Mastering himself, he stares unseeing into the lantern flame. Lan Xichen would be able to soothe his disciples with a smile, but Jiang Cheng cannot. Still, he forces himself to shake his head grimly. It is not their fault for his mood.Heading towards the next checkpoint, Jiang Cheng thinks about Lan Xichen’s latest letter. He wrote that the mountains were being battered by harsh storms, which meant Jiang Cheng shouldn’t visit until the weather improved. (As if he could visit before then. As if the weather was even likely to improve.) The letter was short, and he’d sensed that Lan Xichen was probably tired when he wrote it. Even so, there was a sketch of rain cutting sideways into the mountains. A river flowing down and around the corner of the page, and curling around towards Lotus Pier. Such detail put into this little thing… Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but smile.Now he folds his arms, fending off a shiver. The night is silent aside from his disciples hard at work. Out of habit, he tilts his head towards the breeze. There was never any song played from the mountains that he could hear—which is just as well. If there had been, he’d have no choice but to fly straight back to Gusu to drag their foolish sect leader back indoors where it would be warm—
(Play whenever you like. I’ll definitely hear it.
His finger plucking a string. That sound echoing for miles. That sounds like a promise.) The frustration he feels now is nearly identical to fifteen years ago.He knows what it’s like missing out on things. Missing moments. Not being there, and regretting it later. Much though he tried, he couldn't be around for everything. When Jin Ling was young, right at the start of it, he remembers missing his first steps, and… Jiang Cheng cannot recall what happened next. He woke up the following day in the training grounds, bloody, bruised and raw.Now he must miss out on a whole month. All because of a rumour.(His face is just that thin.)“Um.”Jiang Cheng turns. That little trio of disciples has returned. For a moment he sees three other boys… stumbling together up a rocky path. One beaten from punishment, the second carrying the first, the third grinning behind his fan— This is far too much nostalgia for one night.“What is it?”“Sect Leader, there are a few corpses that are proving... difficult,” one boy says. His eyes flick up and down, face reddening when Jiang Cheng does nothing but stare impassively. “We have tried our best, but—”“Show me.”They are like puppies tripping over themselves. These new, unseasoned, uncoordinated disciples fresh from recruitment. When Jiang Cheng hears roaring and grunting ahead, he shoves the lamp at one of them and flies through the bushes. The scene he stumbles into halts him in his tracks.A flash of steel sweeping in fast arcs. Movements elegant yet aggressive. Vivid strikes that appear wild and frenzied, yet each one is perfectly calculated—“You—!”The man lets out a glorious laugh, running directly at three remaining corpses.Jiang Cheng watches this with his heart in his throat, hands trembling at his sides. How long has it been since he saw Wei Wuxian use a sword? He cannot remember the last time. Even though the sword in his hand is unnamed, and doesn’t chime like Suibian used to… he has to blink a few times to dispel the image of a teenager he once knew. A boy he would have followed to the death.“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng demands though he is not angry at all. The smile does not waver, even as he crosses the distance between them as if charging for battle. “What gives you the right to interrupt this night hunt?”“I heard screaming,” Wei Wuxian says. (Screaming? Jiang Cheng heard nothing of the sort.) “Obviously I couldn’t ignore it. Also, I was there when your Spiders were telling you about drowned corpses—”“So you invited yourself. Of course you did. Couldn’t resist robbing my disciples of some good experience, could you?”He was expecting to feel more anger, but instead, there is a faint glimmer of fondness. Where is the rage that used to consume him? The sting of shame that used to rear its ugly head? Maybe it’s because Wei Wuxian wasn’t saving him that he feels less annoyed than he would have.(Or maybe it’s because he finally remembers who his brother is, after all these years.)“Come on, Jiang Cheng,” the bane of his life whines. “I helped! I’m sure they learnt from my example—”“You’re kidding, right? Who would want to learn your bastardised examples of sword-technique?”“Actually, the Gusu Lan style is actually quite complementary to Yunmeng Jiang…”Around them, the disciples are careful not to disturb the two as they continue to bicker. Inevitably Jiang Cheng gets fed up listening to his brother's yammering, but the conversation doesn’t end on a bad note—instead, he simply walks away, leaving Wei Wuxian talking to thin air. Jiang Cheng leaves feeling oddly amused by it all, even smiling a little to himself. This is not how he used to be.He would never indulge himself like this in the past. He wouldn’t have known how to. Letting things roll off him, like water off a duck’s back… such leniency wouldn't have been possible back then. Now as Jiang Cheng stomps around trying to find whoever has taken his lamp, countless memories blur together in his head. Not all of them are cheerful, but he is always side-by-side with his brother, and just like that, the world never feels like too much.Still, a part of him wishes he could have been the one to deal with those corpses.Not because he needed the validation, but because he had frustrations he’d been hoping to work through. More than that, it’s been a while since he last used Sandu (for something other than cutting down fruit, that is). Unless things get really bad though, it’s not likely his disciples will call for him. Until then he is stuck supervising which really, really sucks. Night-hunting is in his blood, but even without that predisposition, Jiang Cheng was raised with a sword in his hand. He grew up with a thirst for adventure that was only curbed by his sense of duty. Both of these things could be satisfied by night-hunts. Now that he has to direct them though… he wishes he could be as free as others to roam the night and face whatever creature crosses his path.But that would be irresponsible.As a sect leader, he is bound to duty, with no time for adventures. Passing by the broken boulder, he catches a couple of embarrassed disciples kicking at the debris. Where is his fucking lamp?Jiang Cheng looks up at thick dark clouds. The moon is hiding tonight. Seeing that no one is around, he jumps up onto a branch. Just this action brings with it a sense of deja vu, and… suddenly Jiang Cheng finds himself thinking about stories. How many stories are there about the moon? Is Chang’e looking down at him right now as her jade rabbit grinds up her elixir— What nonsense. As he waits for the moon to show itself, it never does. That’s when he remembers why he brought a lamp. It’s a new moon tonight. A new moon? Shuoyue… I can tell you a story that you already know of that is both legend and real. Jiang Cheng’s hand tightens on the branch as he recalls that conversation. If ever our lives were to be written, I would truly be lucky to have mine written by you. But if the story of Lan Xichen were to be told, what would they say about him?Firstly, they would probably talk about Zewu-Jun, not Lan Xichen. It might even leave him nameless as the Ninth Sect Leader Lan, or the First Jade. By the hands of those who call Jiang Cheng the Core-Stealing Hand, they would write Zewu-Jun down as a tragic figure who went into seclusion after his heart was broken by betrayal. They would not speak of his struggles, nor how he fought, nor how he laughed.None of them would speak of the wisdom he possessed, nor how he was at the peak of his glory. They would not know him on the battlefield. During the Sunshot Campaign, whenever they crossed paths, there was something Jiang Cheng noticed which not many others did: Lan Xichen was fast. Bright like quicksilver. Spinning around swifter than thought. It was like he was everywhere all at once.Jiang Cheng can’t help wondering what he would be like as a hunting partner. What would it be like to fight alongside the cultivation world’s top-ranked young master? Bastard better not steal my prey, is the first thing he decides. As he sits and tries to imagine it, his ears pick up on young voices below. Not panicked, but hushed, and hmm… gossiping. Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow, and he curls into a crouch, preparing to drop down on the idiots just below him. Sure, they might be young, green disciples, but they should know better than to talk on the job!“—id you see him though? I didn’t think he was even out and about yet!”“Oh, who cares? Just be glad we even saw him! We must be blessed!”“I don’t know…” the boy frowns, “I mean from what I’ve heard about him, I thought he would at least say hello. Do you think we made him angry? I didn’t think he could get angry!” “Me neither! After all, it’s Zewu-Jun…” Jiang Cheng nearly falls out of the tree. “Well, he might be nothing like our Sect Leader, but even so—” Thud. “Where?” Usually, their screaming would be deeply satisfying to him, but this time Jiang Cheng glares them into silence.One boy squeaks out, “Where what?” and Jiang Cheng is almost proud of him.“Zewu-Jun. You’re saying you saw him?”They nervously direct him eastwards. Jiang Cheng runs.Lan Xichen, out on a night hunt? Out of Gusu? (Out at all?) Could it be… without meaning to, a delighted laugh escapes him. All of a sudden he can picture him strong and well. Radiant with Shuoyue and Liebing at hand, smiling like there is no fault to be found in the world. Could it be true?There is a blur of black and red. Wei Wuxian’s expression flickers between shock and horror as he runs past him. He springs to his feet with a cry of alarm, “Jiang Cheng, don’t—”Don’t what? This is none of his business. Jiang Cheng continues running and almost skids into a tree when he sees ahead of him, a figure in white. Just then the clouds burst open. The rhythm of rain hitting the umbrella matches his pace as he darts forwards— (In hindsight, the umbrella should have been the first clue towards something being not quite right... in fact, Wei Wuxian yelling at him should have been. Or even if he’d listened better to what the disciples were saying before. All of these things should have sent alarm bells ringing in his head, but in Jiang Cheng’s defence, nothing could have stopped him running here like his life depended on it.)Before his hand can make contact, the man spins around and… suddenly Jiang Cheng is left staring at the most disturbing sight.He blinks and blinks again. Zidian sparks to life and strips a nearby tree of its bark. Truthfully, what he sees isn’t that bad, but Jiang Cheng is just so shocked that he thinks he might spit blood. “What the fuck,” he croaks, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. Banish the thought. Cleanse his mind, for the love of all that is holy… but when he turns to look, he’s still smiling! Fucking hell!He may wear his clothes, bear the same height and build, and have almost the same face… but that smile is all wrong. Perfectly replicated but wrong, because Jiang Cheng doesn’t usually have the urge to punch something when he sees it like this! He is just about to act on this instinct when an ear-splitting shriek has both of them leaping to attention.Of course, they both know that scream very well.“AAAAAHHHHHH!! OH MY GOD SAVE ME!! SAVE ME!! OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE!!” For a moment, neither of them move. Not only are they both very familiar with this scream, they can also identify the reason for it, just by the tone. Jiang Cheng calmly leads the way towards the racket. This sight is less disturbing and more… embarrassing. He barely manages to resist slapping himself into a concussion.“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! OH MY GOD!! Wait a minute, what are the chances that I’m imagining—NO, NO, IT’S THERE!! IT’S REAL!! I’M REALLY ABOUT TO DIE!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DON’T COME UP!! I’M GONNA SCREAM!!”What an absolute disgrace.“AAAHHH!! I’M REALLY GONNA SCREAM—”“You’re already screaming, you idiot!”“Wei Ying, breathe.”Wei Wuxian’s head whips around. “Jiang Cheng? Lan Z—Zewu-Jun! What are you both just standing there for?! COME SAVE ME!!”“The one who needs saving is Fairy,” Jiang Cheng says, crouching to pet the poor confused dog. “Having to put up with all your nonsense.”“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji holds out his arms. “Jump.”If his cover wasn’t blown before, this would do it: Wei Wuxian tumbling into this imposter's arms, then being fussed over as though he’d been tortured. Jiang Cheng would have never thought he’d be so relieved to see Lan Wangji’s usual blank face again, but that smile from before had been utterly terrifying.As soon as the thought appears, Lan Wangji seems to realise his mistake. What happens next… it looks like he’s in actual pain trying to contort his face into a smile. Whilst he and Lan Xichen could definitely be mistaken for twins, seeing him like this… such an expression was not meant for that face—“Will you stop that?” he snaps. The urge to punch something returns with a vengeance, but Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Wei Wuxian, stop crying! Also, will you tell him to stop smiling like that? It’s fucking creepy!”“First, make it go away!” Wei Wuxian wails, twisting around to point a finger at him. “You promised! You swore you’d keep them away, so why did you bring a fucking dog with you then?!”“Use your eyes, you blind fool! This is clearly Jin Ling’s dog!”“What do I care whose dog it is? What does it matter if—AHHH IT’S LOOKING AT ME!!”“I shouldn’t have to explain why she’s here. It’s natural that a spiritual dog would be on a night-hunt. Besides that, can’t you see that this dog clearly needs the exercise?”Fairy lets out an unhappy whine, but it's the truth. Jiang Cheng shoos her away once it’s clear Wei Wuxian won’t calm down otherwise. Pathetic. It takes a while for the idiot to uncurl himself from a foetal position. By that point, Jiang Cheng is so fed up he has half a mind to call Fairy back.Once his brother is back to semi-functional, Jiang Cheng waves a hand towards the person he can’t even bear to look at right now. Really, that smile could curdle milk. (Not that it’s ugly, it’s just… unnatural.) Jiang Cheng, “Explain.”Wei Wuxian sniffs. “You say to use my eyes, try using your brain!”It isn’t too difficult to figure out what they’re doing: impersonating Lan Xichen to throw the public (and perhaps their enemies) off their trail. If that’s the reason, Jiang Cheng can’t help pulling a face at the couple’s blatant displays of affection. It looks even worse with the disguise, but most of all, the— “For fuck's sake, can you stop smiling? There’s no one around here! Doing this, you’re only pissing me off!”Lan Wangji’s smile holds out for five more seconds. Then he massages his cheeks, and Jiang Cheng lets out a sigh of relief. The more he looks, the more pissed off he becomes. So he’s not carrying his guqin—he's still carrying Bichen! On top of that, despite how similar they look, those juniors said he didn’t greet them. That probably means he didn’t acknowledge them verbally. Overall, this shitty disguise would never fool anybody who has actually seen Lan Xichen before!Wei Wuxian huffs out a laugh, but Jiang Cheng shoves him away when he tries throwing an arm around his shoulders. He can’t look at him. At either of them. He can’t believe he really thought—“Hey, no need to be like that.” Wei Wuxian is as bullheaded as ever and manages to snag him by the wrist. Zidian sputters out, leaving them in darkness. “This is your own fault, you do realise? I warned you not to go!”“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”For a few minutes, there is blessed silence, but then Wei Wuxian says, “You really shouldn't be seen together.”Jiang Cheng inhales sharply. “I know that.” They have been walking away for a while now, just the two of them. Wei Wuxian’s hand is tight around his wrist, digging into the bone. “Tell me the real reason you came.”There is another long pause, during which they break through the forest cover. “To meet with our friend.” (Nie Huaisang? Jiang Cheng wonders what the meeting is for.) “Now come, you’ve had a bad fright. Let’s go for a drink.”A drink? “I can’t. I’m on duty—”“Your disciples have gone back already.”“What? When? How?!”“I sent them back, that’s how.” (Who gave him the authority—) “Stop making excuses. It’s been too long since we went drinking. You’re stressed, and I owe you an apology. Let your shīxiōng make it up to you...”“With Hanguang-Jun’s money?”“His money is my money!”The inn they go to isn’t far. Jiang Cheng half expects to find Nie Huaisang tucked away in one of its corners, but if he is there he must be in (a far better) disguise. Wei Wuxian sits him at a table and calls for an indecent number of jars. The wine is divided equally, but Jiang Cheng pushes all but two jars over. He has no intention of losing his inhibitions tonight.At first, he sticks to this plan… but after the first jar, he finds his thirst growing. It really has been too long. This past couple of days, it’s like he’s forgotten how to relax. After dealing with an uneventful hunt, and all the long days he’s been dragging himself through… it’s true. He really does not want to deal with life right at all now.And so, he tells himself just one more.But then he tells himself this, again and again, and again… The first thought that he wakes up with is: why am I wet?It was raining last night, but that doesn’t explain being soaked to his undergarments! It was hardly even a proper shower, so… what the fuck is this? Jiang Cheng groans, grappling around for purchase. How much did he drink? By the gods, the room is too fucking bright— “Put it out.”“Put what out? The sun? But we already did that once already—” Oh, that voice. Jiang Cheng randomly grabs the nearest item and hurls it blindly. “ACK!!”“What good aim, Jiang-xiong!” That other voice. Simpering. Overly sweet. He knows it from previous times like this when too much alcohol has resulted in poor decisions. Jiang Cheng opens his eyes and regrets it immediately. “Why am I on the floor?”Nie Huaisang is in plain clothes, hair messy and face smudged with dirt. The years have not changed how quickly he adapts to the situation, shown by how he drops down to be level with him. Wei Wuxian’s advice from years ago seems to have come in handy, because indeed… Jiang Cheng tends to react better when he's not being literally looked down on. Before his fellow sect leader can even open his mouth, two heads pop up either side of him. It’s then that Jiang Cheng realises exactly how drunk he must have been.“Boss, are you ready to come out now?” Linzhen asks, offering him her hand with a sweet smile. Jiang Cheng regards the appendage like one would a poisoned dagger.He’s under a table. Drenched in some foul water. Head pounding and feeling like death. Jiang Cheng crawls out by himself, hissing at the light. Knives to the brain. The first thing he sees is Wei Wuxian, which is just… even green-faced and gagging, the asshole spares a moment to shoot him a grin!“What the fuck?” Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw. Using what meagre self-control he has, he focuses on his core. Let it burn out this damned hangover or at least accelerate his healing. With the last of his restraint, he concentrates purely on quelling the urge to commit fratricide. “Your hand, boss,” Minzhen says. Hand? His knuckles… they’re worse than they were after smashing the boulder. As she bandages them, he repeats, “What the fuck?”Then he realises an entire wall is missing from the tavern, hence the blinding light. Thankfully a barrier of purple-clad disciples are screening them from view, but with many of them sneaking glances at them, it’s just as bad. Jiang Cheng can only guess how much damage they’ve caused. Whip marks decorate the floor and (remaining) walls. One column is barely holding itself together. The smell of ozone is everywhere, mingled with thick smoke—“We had a rather wild night,” Nie Huaisang says, laughing nervously when Jiang Cheng turns to him. “Let me explain…”Things progressed quickly. After jars three and four, Jiang Cheng apparently lost the ability to stop throwing things. Literally anything. Peanuts, plates, cutlery, chairs (specifically at Wei Wuxian). That was when Nie Huaisang came over, hoping to act as a mediator between the two of them. When he ended up being used as a shield (for Wei Wuxian), that was when he decided to start drinking too…Nie Huaisang, “After that, you became rather… distressed.” Jiang Cheng knows exactly what he means by ‘distressed’. Moody. Violent. Hunting old demons. Consumed by wrath and sorrow. At that stage of drunkenness, he will try to find something to beat up, and if he doesn’t find it, he’ll—“What’s the damage?” he asks the hovering innkeeper. The man babbles wordlessly. Jiang Cheng sighs. “Charge everything to Yunmeng Jiang. My apologies.” Turning back to Nie Huaisang, who is fucking fanning him (totally blowing his cover!), he asks: “But why am I wet? And my hands—”Instead, Linzhen answers, “When we came to collect you we found you beating up the column. Apparently it was pissing you off. Then the wall collapsed and you escaped. Later, we found you in the lake.”Jiang Cheng pinches his brow. What the fuck caused all this? It’s not the first time he’s drunk himself sick, but… this amount of rage? This loss of control? It’s not only humiliating, it’s also really worrying!“Young master, would you like something to eat?”A tall, broad shadow blocks out the light for a moment. Jiang Cheng groans though when he sees the offered food. Though not the worst, tāngyuán is not his favourite food. The smell of sweet syrup makes him want to gag. “Who the fuck are you?”The man lets out a bark of laughter, but before Jiang Cheng can commit a murder, Nie Huaisang leaps forwards. “Master Lu a friend, Jiang-xiong! Peace, peace!”“As your friend, I give this to you free of charge!” A bowl is pushed over to Jiang Cheng. “It will cure your ills, young master. I guarantee it!”Nothing good in life comes for free. He pushes away the bowl, sneering at the cup of water Linzhen thrusts in his face. “Ah, suit yourself,” the Master Lu shrugs. Jiang Cheng turns to glare at the one who dragged him into all of this. The constant source of life’s troubles. Resurrected, but soon to be killed again… Wei Wuxian peers back at him, seeming totally unconcerned by his imminent death. Truly, he has a thick face. This much killing intent ought to at least make him flinch, but no. Beside him, Lan Wangji is calmly picking peanut shells out of his hair. Nie Huaisang, “And then…”“Oh god, there’s more?!”“You seem to have a knack for writing, young master,” Master Lu says. “It’s very good if I do say so myself.”When Minzhen prods his chest, Jiang Cheng looks down, only to find the front of his robes stuffed with something and ink stains everywhere. It must be on his face too. Goddamn it. Jiang Cheng peels back his clothes with a grimace. What a mess. The first piece of paper is completely soaked. Totally indecipherable.“What is this?”“It was the only way we could pacify you, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang explains. “Once you were done with all the… the whipping and throwing stuff, you asked for ink and paper. Then you crawled under the table and wouldn’t stop writing. It was like you were possessed!”“I helped grind ink for you,” Master Lu says proudly. “This one understands that when creativity strikes, two hands aren’t enough! You were so protective though! Didn’t even let anyone take a peek. Unfortunately, some got a little ruined, but I managed to save most of them…”Jiang Cheng snatches the papers away. What type of asshole takes such liberties?! He glowers at the only other one who would. “Did you not even try to stop me at all?” he snarls.Wei Wuxian only shrugs. “What can I say? Alcohol seems to make an honest man out of you.”What is that supposed to mean?Without thinking about it, he scans the first page… but then he flicks through, and fucking hell. How much did he write?! At first, the words don’t seem to make sense. A lot of them are smudged away. Then he notices something and his heart nearly stops.How many people have read this?Suddenly the world seems to tilt, and everything falls away but the characters on the page, vibrant black against white. Each stroke is as clear as the whip marks on the floors, but somehow… this is much worse. These are his long-buried thoughts laid out for all to see.(How many people have read this?!)The more Jiang Cheng reads, the further his stomach plummets. My friend, o king of dragonflies,
The little bastards seem to die,
An awful lot around your house,
One cannot help but wonder why.
The summer ends, the year is weighed,
Of seasons gone and seasons made,
We can but watch them ebb and flow,
When trees are bare and clean as jade.
Huh, well… overall, that's not so bad. But then the poem seems to break down in structure, and then all subtlety is lost...
The dragon flies with broken wings,
They hunt around the lotus pond,
Though small, and irritating things,
The lotuses are rather fond—
There is more. Pages and pages. “Don’t!” It’s Linzhen who stops him before he can rip anything apart. The papers spill across his lap and Jiang Cheng pushes her away, hunching over to hide everything. The next page reveals something even worse than the poem. Some parts are smeared, others crossed out. As he manages to make out what words aren’t blotted with ink, his hands begin to shake.
Huan-xiong,
How dare you tell me to———but what storm can stop me? I don’t want your tea, you idiot. You’re so ridiculous sometimes. If you were here, I would say that to your dumb face ————you seem to believe, but I don’t—————————for you? Why can’t you————it’s too far, I will carry you back. Even if you’re fucking heavy ——thinking about it, and how much I miss————— you can’t, then I will come. Who cares what they think. What matters is ——— something I need to show you——————then I will write it, just for you. Jiang Cheng lets the letter fall from numb fingers. There is no doubt that he wrote these words, yet he cannot believe it. This sounds nothing like him, and the things he’s saying… Jiang Cheng seizes the paper, crumpling it in his hands, and this time nothing will stop him—But he… he can’t do it.What good will it do anyway? What he has written is real. To destroy the evidence of it would be to deny the truth. Always it comes to this—the truth, and what power it has over everything. How unexpectedly it reveals itself to him, and always in the worst way possible.“…you see? I told you. He’s got talent.”After a moment he realises Master Lu is speaking to someone else. A man who has come to sit with them. Both are eating the rejected bowl of tāngyuán. Somehow the others must have run off without him noticing, probably for whatever meeting they arranged. It’s only the Spiders who remain, both of whom are standing either side of him.Jiang Cheng studies the newcomer. The man has a scarf tied around his head. He wonders how this scruffy youth came to be familiar with Master Lu, who (going by his sword) is clearly a distinguished cultivator…“I think the young master should send them,” Master Lu says.He balks. “Pardon?”“The poem is good, but with the letter too, I believe your friend would—”“Are you insane?!”Send such a thing? Jiang Cheng cannot even imagine what reaction he would get from that! For some reason, memories rush forth faster than he can hold them back, months and months blurring together. A better disguise might be a different name. His smile, like a sun that does not set. Call me Huan-xiong. The scent of sandalwood sweetened with mint. That small flicker of panic ignites like an ember, flaring so brightly that he can feel his cheeks catching aflame. He might not be able to destroy this letter, but he knows he absolutely cannot send it either.When he reads the poem again, he can’t tell whether it is good or bad. He hears a voice in his head say I like it, an upturned face smiling at him, pale skin reflecting all the colours of the sky...Something inside him shatters.
It isn’t written, and it will never be written.
Something inside him snaps into place.That he would want to hunt with him, to have him here for his company… that he wrote over fifty seals to keep him safe… that he would listen to the wind, and in his dreams, he’d hear that song… what would Lan Xichen think if he knew about all of this? Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut, a storm raging in his chest.“Boss,” Minzhen says.He cannot believe this. He doesn't want to believe it. Even though Wei Wuxian said that he was being honest… he never meant for this to happen. You seem to have gone above and beyond what I asked for. What is the use of denying it? What peace would that give him? Even if this truth was produced under copious amounts of wine, this is something he will have to eventually confront. There is a month until he next sees him—“Catch.” Something comes sailing in his direction. When Jiang Cheng grabs it, the peach turns into mush in his hand. The newcomer clicks his tongue. “What a waste.”Jiang Cheng stands abruptly. Both women immediately turn towards him. Somewhere through his shock, he manages to say, “Give me two hours.”They don’t follow him.He tells himself he isn’t running away. Where would he run to anyway? This is Lotus Pier. This is his home.With the papers clutched in his hand, Jiang Cheng walks through the docks in a daze. Who cares how he looks? Who cares what anyone thinks? Somehow he ends up in his office with no idea how he got there, and there on his desk… is a letter, tied with a blue ribbon.
Our ribbons are also a reminder of our founder’s promise, symbolising not only restraint but also the blessing of our love found...
The bookcase crashes into the wall. His favourite chair splinters into pieces. Sandu pierces the floor, then the ceiling, slashing apart the curtains too. Paper goes flying everywhere. He kicks and punches and throws and—Afterwards, he sits amongst the wreckage calmly re-bandaging his hands. Black and bloody and bruised. Earlier he scrubbed his hands until the skin was red and raw. At some point, he will have to face this properly. But not right now.Looking around, the room is barely recognisable. When he finally emerges, the corridors are empty. He probably has scared everyone away with all the noise he made. Again, it is just him meandering these halls and filling his mind with all the things he can’t help but notice. It’s without conscious thought that he arrives at the ancestral hall, and standing before his parents’ tablets, thinks to himself:
I should beg for forgiveness.
But it’s really too late for that.
There’s nothing to forgive. We’ve done nothing wrong.
There is nothing left for him there. Wandering around like a hungry ghost, it’s only when he realises where he’s ended up that he falls to his knees with a sob. Curling himself into a tight ball, he wishes that he could be angry about this, but ever since someone took the time to listen to him, he’s found that there is more in him than anger. There is also the pain of too much tenderness. The thing about him is that if he is to make a promise, he will always strive to keep it.
It’s time that you tried living for something else. When I return, I want there to be something else in your life other than work and me. Something that’s just for you.
“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “I have found it.”His chest feels like it will split open at the scar. To be wounded by his understanding of this is to bleed willingly and joyfully, for he has never done anything by halves. This and this and this. So many things he yearns for.
There’s no loss when there’s nothing to lose.
How true those words were, because now there is so much he has, and he is afraid to lose all of it. Of course, more letters come, but he finds himself unable to reply.A day passes, then another, then another… he tries and he tries, but the truth has robbed him of words. The scent of bitter herbs seems to grow stronger with each letter that arrives, which makes him wonder: if it’s working for Lan Xichen, could it work for him? But what amount of tea could drown out these feelings, now that he has discovered them?Lan Xichen’s letters express more concern with each passing day. It is like watching a fire burn out, how it goes from pages to a page, from light-hearted sweetness to hesitance and doubt. This is like walking backwards, each step unravelling them piece by piece. He waits, but no accusation comes. There is no blame. No trace of anger at all. With infinite patience, Lan Xichen writes:
[Jiang Cheng,
You must be busy, so I will keep this brief. There's not much to say about myself. Nothing here has changed. I’ll admit though, I am worried that you are working yourself too hard. Please remember to rest. Knowing you, you will have forgotten—]
All of this… the blatant concern, the gentle warmth, the nagging.Jiang Cheng can’t help wondering how long it will last. A week later, and he cannot say whether he would have ever realised any of this without the alcohol or not. Is it possible to recognise something you have never experienced before? He said it himself: he has always been there, but… does that mean that this has always been there too, lurking under the surface? Was he always—“Boss.”Ever since they found him in Jin Ling's room, the Spiders have barely left his side. Minzhen waits until she has his attention. There is another letter in her hand. He can already guess what it will say, and he can’t… Jiang Cheng drags a hand over his mouth.He is tired. Every night he dreams of muddy waters, but not a lotus in sight. Shouting at a wide-eyed Lan Xichen, ‘Have you no shame?’ and running away from him. When he wakes up his mouth tastes bitter, his face is wet, and he just… he just hates this. Hates everything. Hates himself, most of all. “How long can you keep avoiding this?” Minzhen asks. “What will you even do when we return to Gusu?”He’s been wondering the exact same thing. He made him a promise. I’ll see you in a month. Then that gives him… “What day is it?”Minzhen sighs. “So you really have lost all sense.”“…”“You should write back,” Linzhen says curtly, pouring water into the well. She even pulls out a brand new inkstick for him. “Do you have any idea how awkward it is to face his disciples with nothing to give in return?”Jiang Cheng knows his options are simple now: either gather his courage to write or leave Lan Xichen thinking he has been forgotten. No thought is required. With a steadying breath, he picks up his brush. Nothing has to change, so long as he is careful with what he says...
[Lan Xichen, I’m never too busy for you]
Fucking. Hell. Is he stupid? Come on! This shouldn’t be so hard. He crosses it out and starts again:
[Lan Xichen, unfortunately, I am quite busy. There simply isn’t the time to sit down and write with things being so hectic.]
“Hectic, boss?” Linzhen raises her brows. She is right. Things are actually rather peaceful for this time of year.
[Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself.]
“That remains to be seen—”“Leave,” Jiang Cheng says, hurling a paperweight. Usually, he would be able to endure their teasing, but not today. Not with this. “Get out.” Once the door is shut, his mind goes blank. Finish this, he tells himself.
[I will see you as promised. Your friend, Jiang Cheng.]
This will have to do. His words are dry, but they are all he can give him. Even writing ‘your friend’ sent a painful twinge to his heart, but that is who he is and who he always will be. If he allows any more leniency with his emotions, he might just reveal everything. And he can’t afford to do that. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. What amazes him is that not once has he lingered on the most obvious problem. (Cut-sleeve? Is that what I am?) When he searches himself, he finds there is no real disgust. Only guilt, that he once criticised Wei Wuxian so harshly; and regret, that even now he isn’t brave enough to attempt anything. There are many other things he would be worrying about if there were even a chance—Jiang Cheng sticks his head out. “Alright, you can come in now…” Huh, so he told them to leave, and they actually left. Jiang Cheng heads outside to find them. It’s the first time he’s been outside in days. It doesn’t take long till the whistle of whips draws him to the training grounds. The practice dummies are being torn to bits. There he stays at the side-lines, waiting to be acknowledged.Minzhen glances at him sideways. “That didn’t take long.”When she sees the letter, Linzhen huffs and pulls a face. “That’s not even worth the effort of delivering it.”“Do you refuse this order?” It’s not as if they haven't done so before. They aren’t mere servants. (Then again, no one in Yunmeng Jiang is.) He waits for them to finish coiling up their whips. He’s done as requested. What more can they ask from him?Linzhen raises her chin. “I have never thought you a coward until now, young master.”“Then I am a coward,” he replies dully, holding out the letter. Never before has he felt so defeated.They seem thrown with his response, uncertain as to what they should do. When the letter is taken from his hands, it occurs to him that this is it. At the same time, as Jiang Cheng watches the Spiders’ retreating backs, indecision twists in his gut. The thought of Lan Xichen receiving this mediocre response almost too much. He knows such paltry words will hardly be a comfort to Lan Xichen. It is too little too late. Jiang Cheng has studied strategy, diplomacy, and learnt all types of negotiations. None of that factors into this type of arrangement, because between him and Lan Xichen, sharing secrets isn’t anything new.In fact, by now Lan Xichen has many other things he could choose from to hurt Jiang Cheng with, should he wish to. He has everything of Jiang Cheng’s at his mercy. He could destroy him in an instant. He halts at the realisation: Lan Xichen really knows him too well. What if he already knows… oh god, was this why he freaked out about the ribbon?! What must he have thought when Jiang Cheng almost—Pushing this thought aside, he instead considers the fact even with someone as patient as Lan Xichen, if he keeps pushing him away he will eventually relent.Already, from his letters, it’s obvious Lan Xichen is cautious of overstepping. Abandoning this friendship to protect himself, which would be the greater loss? Deep down inside, Jiang Cheng knows that Lan Xichen would be kind about this. There are plenty of other reasons to hate him, and yet he has tolerated everything so far.Closing his eyes, Jiang Cheng remembers being held by this man. Being consoled, and encouraged to unburden himself. You have nothing to fear from me, Jiang Cheng. I keep my promises. I always do. What he fears is ruining this, but most of all, he doesn't want to regret anything. But holding onto this alone... Lan Xichen would disapprove of that. Just like that, he recognises that—
I
n this instance, the truth and he are intertwined. Trust in him. Trust in yourself. Trust that what you have built together can weather whatever storm the truth will bring.
Jiang Cheng promised Lan Xichen he’d write. That he would share everything with him—exactly as it appears, in all its ugliness. All its truth—this man, who pours his heart into every one of his friendships, deserves better than a letter full of dust. Lan Xichen has paid the price of being lied to once already, and Jiang Cheng refuses to put him through that again.In the end, this is no great confession. I care for you more than I thought I did. Between the poem and the letter, he will understand. “Wait.” The Spiders spin around, their faces verging on hopeful. Slowly he pulls out the wrinkled, ink-stained papers he had written so long ago. His eyes linger over the words, but then he folds them up. “Take this too.”He has nothing else to say because this is all there is. They must realise this, since they both bow deeply before departing. This time the sight of them leaving is bittersweet.This, he leaves in Lan Xichen’s hands. Whatever his decision is, he trusts that it will be just as fair and kind, and everything that he is. The thought comes to him unbidden: how fitting is it that in letters is where this started, and here in letters is where it must end. Two men watch the women till their sword glares pierce the clouds. Kong spins his staff and lets out a long whistle. “Those women seem pretty tough.”“They must be,” Master Lu replies. “They’re from Meishan Yu.” He sighs, folding his arms as they both gaze at the sky. “Well then, this is it.”“Fucking finally,” Kong grumbles, squinting at something in the distance. “But what about the others? Do you have any idea where they are?”“Mm, it’s just our shīmèi who is missing, I think. I heard she went to look for shīgōng, but he was last seen wandering somewhere around Lanling…”With a weary sigh, Kong leans on his staff, suddenly feeling all of his years and more. “It’s like trying to herd cats. And then there are these idiots too… two steps forwards, one step back! Bah, I’m getting too old for this—” He stiffens, twirling around just in time to catch something between his fingers. “Oi! What the fuck are you doing so far away from your master?!”When he releases the dragonfly, it crawls to sit on his finger.“Get back to work, you slacker! Fucking lazy…” The insect buzzes angrily, but he only shakes his head watching it fly away. “It’s important to watch him now. Who knows when an opportunity like this will come again?”“Patience, my friend,” Master Lu soothes. “A storm is definitely coming, but with these two I think we need not fear the rain.” As far as Jingyi is concerned, it’s the worst time of year. With lessons having started, there is hardly any time to do anything else! By the time he is able to wrangle Sizhui, Jin Ling, and Ouyang-xiong in a room together, it is almost a full week after his grand epiphany! The moment the door is shut, he hurries to explain his thoughts.“Zewu-Jun is the one who told me this,” he babbles excitedly. “A long time ago, he said that whilst hearing is good, listening is better. Also, that they are not the same thing—”Jin Ling scowls. “Slow down! What the hell are you talking about? Starting midway through a conversation—what are you even trying to say?!”How to explain this? “It’s to do with how you actually engage with the medium itself. He told me that there is music in everything—even in our blood. What I’m thinking is that these songs we’ve found contain more than we think they do. I believe that if we were to play them—”“But wouldn’t they have been played before?” Ouyang interrupts, flicking through his book, clearly bored by all of this. “I doubt you’re the first one to have this idea. What do you hope to discover by doing this anyway?”“I wasn’t finished! Playing them is one thing.” Jingyi grins fiercely then. “Inquiring them is another.”“Inquiry?” Jin Ling asks. “You mean… but isn’t that for communing with the dead?”“The ones who have written these songs have long since entered the Wheel of Reincarnation. They wouldn’t be able to respond to my questions. However, I believe that within each song lies a story. Like an imprint of a person’s thoughts. When I heard Sizhui humming that song the other day, it was like there was an echo of another voice—”“Are you sure this is safe?” Jin Ling squints. “Why wouldn’t it be?” At this, even Jingyi looks a little uncertain, but Sizhui knows he won’t admit to it. “That is why I’ve asked you to come, though. Whilst Sizhui and I investigate these songs, Ouyang-xiong can watch out for Teacher... and Young Mistress can supervise us...”Jin Ling folds his arms, more nervous than irritated. “Why?”“Because we are too attuned to one another. Sometimes we get caught in a loop,” Sizhui answers for him, fiddling with the guqin strings as he gives the other Mini Jade a smile. “Now I think I understand you.”“But how will you Inquire, and what will you be asking about?” Ouyang asks. His attention is now evenly split. (Jin Ling can’t help but sneer. Shameless! Reading pornography in broad daylight!) “Jingyi doesn’t even play an instrument—”A noise rises from Jingyi’s throat.There is no other way to describe it but… a noise.Sizhui’s jaw drops whilst the others cringe, because—several notes at once! A chord! Harmonic tones scrape the ceiling. How is this even possible? The droning bass seems to resonate at a pitch that shakes the floor! “How long have you been able to do this?!” “It’s not actually that hard.” When Sizhui continues to stare, Jingyi confesses, “When Teacher makes me copy the rules, I get very bored by myself. Singing helps pass the time. Also, the rabbits seem to like it whenever I go to feed them...”“What the hell?” Jin Ling exclaims, scrubbing at his ears. “My head is all fuzzy! What the fuck did you do?!”“It’s called ‘throat singing’,” Jingyi says brightly, beaming at their confused faces. “It’s astounding how much you can learn when you’ve had to dig through all the books in the Library. Did you know that it’s one of the oldest forms of music? Lan An practised it himself when he was a monk. If there’s anything that these old songs will respond to, don’t you think it would be his own style of singing?” “You know, until now I didn’t actually believe you were a Lan,” Ouyang admits, “But now I am both convinced, and even more sceptical.”“…”“The rabbits seem to like…” Sizhui stares for a moment, then shakes his head. “Jingyi, I already knew you could sing, but this is—”“Listen, if I were to separate Inquiry into more than one tone, it might be possible to conduct something more like a conversation instead of asking singular questions. Using the base fundamental to maintain Inquiry, with the overtone[1] I will…” Seeing all of their blank expressions (except Sizhui, who at least knows what these things are), he sighs. “Do you remember when Senior Wei used Empathy? It’s sort of like that.”“Are you saying you want to tap into the memories of these songs?” Jin Ling looks completely bewildered by this. “How does your mind even work, Jingyi?! Are you crazy?!”“This does sound rather complicated,” Ouyang agrees.“That’s because it is.” Jingyi is already reading through a music score. “I believe it’s worth trying though. Sizhui, are you in?”“At the very least,” Sizhui says, still sounding rather dazed, “I’m willing to try.”Jin Ling points out, “You still haven’t explained what any of this has to do with Zewu-Jun. You think hereditary means having to go back to the time of the founders?”“This whole thing is a mystery, but if you think about it: what is more mysterious than the time of the founders? So much is unknown that literally anything could have happened back then. What I have noticed is that there are recurring patterns within our clan that echo from that time. Just think about it: Lan An had two children, but after his wife passed away, he gave up on raising them. Who does this remind you of?”“Jingyi, I don’t think we should be talking about this…” Sizhui cannot forget the way Hanguang-Jun clammed up when Jingyi brought this topic up with him. He didn’t even allow him to finish speaking, and they haven’t been on speaking terms ever since—“This family has a history of tragic endings which I think is too suspicious to ignore. The further you dig, the more you find,” Jingyi says sharply. “But I refuse to accept that such a thing will happen to Zewu-Jun."Regarding him, my theory is that his isn’t a medical ailment so much as something inherently spiritual. There is also this myth…” Jingyi sneaks a glance at Sizhui. “But unfortunately that’s as far as I am allowed to go with that thought. With this investigation, however, I just want to see how far this goes. Who else might be involved? That’s what I want to know.”After a moment Ouyang says, “What is this about Lan An’s children though?”Sizhui explains: “Of his two children, Lan Jin was the progenitor to the rest of the Lan family—”“Lan Jin?” Jin Ling blurts out.Jingyi rolls his eyes. “Yes, Young Mistress—Lan Jin. Anyway, between him and his sister, only he remained in Gusu. We’ve exhausted all the Lan family records, which only leaves…”“His sister,” Sizhui says. “And what secrets her bloodline may hold.”Jingyi nods. “Luckily for us, Lan Jin wrote several songs about her life.”This somehow manages to convince the group, but the truth is that… most of this is based on conjectures. When Sizhui hummed that song the other day, in his mind he saw a young man crying, whilst a maiden also ran away in tears. He’d sensed that they were not husband and wife but rather siblings.They begin with Lan Jin’s song, and as Sizhui’s music fills the room, heavy like incense smoke, it’s easy to latch onto the base of Inquiry. Jingyi sucks in a deep breath, closes his eyes and starts to sing. When Lan An’s wife departed, he was so anguished that he lost himself to his grief. Whilst Lan Jin felt obligated to remain with the sect, his sister Lan Yu could not bear to stay, and so she left the mountain. Lan Jin continued to listen for news about his sister and learnt that she was following the route of the mountain rivers downstream. Soon she was picked up by a wandering sect—(“A wandering sect?” Jin Ling interrupts. Something about that… he has heard of something like this before. Many sect founders were originally wandering cultivators, but a whole wandering sect is quite unusual!Jingyi clears his throat. “Yes, anyway…”)She stayed with this sect for a while, pledging allegiance to the lakes and rivers.Jingyi pauses here, because whilst this is exactly what the song says, he cannot parse the meaning. In his mind’s eye, he starts to lose sight of Lan Yu. He wonders whether her brother ever saw her again. It’s obvious that he did his best to watch over her, even though he remained on the mountain. Even as her face faded from his memory, he always hoped that she would someday return.It was after arriving at the mouth of the river that she encountered a sea-lord.Hang on, a sea-lord? Jingyi definitely cannot explain this. Could Lan Jin have misunderstood, or is it really as he claims? He states that she battled this ‘sea-lord’ alongside another powerful cultivator, after which they formed a close friendship. Later she continued her travels, found a man, had a child (apparently Ouyang’s biggest grievance is that they didn’t marry), and then she died.“To think that this brave maiden’s life ended so suddenly.” Ouyang shakes his head solemnly. “But what happened next?”“She sent her child to live with that wandering sect, but hold on a minute… sea-lord?” Jingyi pulls a face. “What is that supposed to mean? Sea-monster? Is that some sort of title—”“Pardon me, young masters, but have none of you heard of the lóngwáng before?”Everyone screams.Then Jin Ling clambers onto the table and sticks his head out of the window. He lets out a long groan. “Senior Wen! Have you not been scolded about this enough? Why must you lurk outdoors? It’s raining!”From down below comes Wen Ning’s voice. “But I like the rain.”Whilst Jin Ling mutters about stupid uncles not taking proper care of themselves, Sizhui lets out a nervous laugh. “Uncle Ning, you caught us by surprise.”“My apologies, A-Yuan,” the Ghost General says. It’s only by his good ears (and from knowing him) that he senses his amusement. “I have been tasked with keeping everyone safe.” Before he can ask, he adds: “Zewu-Jun is resting.”He’s been resting a lot recently. Since moving to the Gentian House, he hardly goes outdoors anymore. Back in seclusion again. Sizhui does his best not to think about that, turning his attention towards preparing the next song. He leaves it to Jingyi to address the topic of— “Lóngwáng? The Dragon Kings?! You’re saying that Lan Yu fought dragons?!!”A few minutes pass, and then Wen Ning says: “Sister told me about it when I was young, so it is the first thing that comes to mind when you say ‘sea-lord’. I just think… dragons. They are said to guard most bodies of water, so… you say she followed a river, and then she met with the sea…” Though they cannot see him, it’s obvious he is embarrassed. “It’s just a thought.”To be fair, there were plenty of strange creatures cultivators dealt with in their lives. This though… on the one hand that does make sense, but on the other hand, dragons?!! Does that mean the rivers were dragons too? She ‘pledged allegiance’ to the lakes and rivers, and when she reached the river mouth, when she encountered the sea—Jingyi splutters, “But is that all he wrote about them? Seriously?!”That’s not enough to draw any conclusions! Ah, he smacks the table. There’s nothing worse than an incomplete story!“Save your voice, Jingyi,” Sizhui says, positioning his fingers on the strings. “There's more yet to come.”The next song only speaks of a gift that was sent to Lan Jin after his sister’s death. Indeed, the siblings never saw one another again. Her messenger told him how long she searched for a special stone on her travels, and the song claims that this stone then became one of the Lan sect’s most treasured family heirlooms.Wen Ning, “I have seen it.”“…”“The stone, you mean, Uncle?” Sizhui checks. “If it is as you describe, it has been carved. It now sits on Zewu-Jun’s desk—”“Ahhh, we’ve seen it too!” Jingyi rasps, voice cracking. “The jade inkstone!” His eyes bulge. “The inkstone… carved with… a dragon!” “Yes, that’s the one,” Wen Ning says. “It’s very beautiful.”“You wanted to know about Lan Yu. Are you telling me that’s all that he wrote about her?” Jin Ling demands, unable to mask his agitation. “That can’t be everything!” For some reason, despite this story sounding farfetched, Jin Ling almost wants to believe it. He cannot explain why he feels drawn to Lan Yu (instead of Lan Jin), but maybe it’s the fact that she decided to follow the rivers… Though Jiang Cheng has denied being able to, Jin Ling knows he can sing.When he was an infant and refused to stop crying, when he was at his wit’s end, Jiang Cheng would sing to him. He can’t remember everything he sang, but one song he knows from repetition. My waters are the lakes and rivers, not open to a wider sea. He would sing this and rock him in his arms, long after his eyes fell shut. All of a sudden, Jin Ling misses his jiùjiu fiercely. He misses Lotus Pier. (He misses home.) Whilst the song was playing, he swears he even heard his Jiang bell ring a few times.“What you heard is all we’ve got,” Jingyi croaks. “After this battle... she had a child, and then. She. Died.” Sizhui, “Could it be that after the battle she died from an injury—”“Oh!” All of them turn to find Ouyang standing by the map table, dragging a finger down the page. The boys come to crowd around him. “Look at this!” he exclaims. “The river that goes from Gusu all the way to the sea… look whose territory it cuts through!”The river bisects the sprawling lands the Meishan Yu roam across, and further downstream: Yunmeng.Ouyang, “In what order were the sects founded? Qishan Wen, Lanling Jin, Gusu Lan, Yunmeng Jiang, and finally Qinghe Nie. It was only after the Lans established their sect that Jiang Chi founded his. Before then he was just like any other wandering cultivator.”Jin Ling’s jaw drops. “Are you saying the person Lan Yu befriended was Jiang Chi?!” “There is no evidence to support this, but it’s not impossible,” Sizhui agrees. “Then again, I wonder why Lan Jin didn’t simply identify Jiang Chi as that friend of hers…”Ouyang slaps all three of them in succession, and what is the item he slaps them with? His erotic art-book, of course! “Are you three really that blind?! Can you not read between the lines?!” His arms fly around, narrating this tale: “The maiden Lan Yu, heartbroken from her mother’s death, runs far away from home. She then travels with Meishan Yu for some time and eventually encounters what may-or-may-not be a dragon, and during the battle, oh… just imagine it!”Naturally, Jingyi catches on immediately. Even with his hoarse voice, he exclaims, “Fighting a dragon together!”Ouyang, “Yes!”Jingyi, “Defending each other in battle!”Ouyang, “Yes!”Jingyi, “Developing a ‘close friendship’!”Ouyang, “Yes, very close!”Jingyi, “Could it be that she died from a broken heart?”“Oh, you two are just being ridiculous now,” Sizhui chides. “There is nothing written about this.”Ouyang, “But what if she fell in love but it didn’t work out? After all, Jiang Chi was wed in his youth, and it was well-known to be a harmonious marriage. It’s not hard to assume that after this second heartbreak, Lan Yu couldn’t bear to live anymore—”“Now that’s just insulting,” Jin Ling cuts in. “‘Couldn’t bear to live anymore’? Tsk, please! She was clearly able to move on. She even went on to have a daughter!”“But wait...” Jingyi’s eyes go wide as he stares into space. “That daughter… we might... not have records of her... but what if Meishan Yu does?”“Meishan Yu doesn’t keep records,” Jin Ling says. “It is not part of their culture. Histories are taught through oral tradition. Next time Linzhen or Minzhen come to visit, maybe we can ask them some questions.”“Isn’t it strange that some of Meishan Yu could be descendants of Gusu Lan?” Ouyang muses. “And if we are to think further along, wouldn’t that also mean Gusu Lan is linked to Yunmeng Jiang? That this is where it goes...”The first part is not that strange. Most of the older sects are likely to share some blood, since mixing between high-level cultivators was quite common in the past. The second part, however—that would be referring to Yu Ziyuan’s marriage to Jiang Fengmian. Could it be that this arrangement was made due to the friendship between Jiang Chi and Lan Yu? “What does any of this matter though? How is it relevant to Zewu-Jun?” Sizhui asks, wrapping his guqin up. As usual, it’s up to him to keep them all on-track. “All we’ve learnt is that Lan Yu did indeed lead an adventurous life, she may or may not have battled a dragon, and she had a daughter who eventually joined Meishan Yu.”“Her ending was… also tragic,” Jingyi whispers. “It all… connects.”He doesn’t need to say anything more than this.Sizhui hums, and it’s understood between them what they are thinking. This theme pervades throughout the family—from Lan An being widowed, to the brother being left behind, to this sister dying abruptly… and what of the mother? Her life remains unknown. Madam Lan was something they had talked about too. Though her illness had been a cover for the true reason for her seclusion, she also died young, seemingly without any explanation.It’s true that there seems to be something connecting everything.It’s as though not one of these people enjoyed a long and happy life. Even Lan Jin’s faded into obscurity. Is it that, then? Tragic endings? If that’s the case, Sizhui has to wonder why there is one anomaly in the pattern, because despite the years of loneliness and grief… hasn’t Hanguang-Jun achieved his happy ending? Have he and Senior Wei somehow managed to avoid suffering this enduring phenomenon?If so, was it due to Senior Wei’s death?Sizhui still doesn’t like to think about it. Now that he knows (now that he remembers) it haunts him to think that for thirteen years, his father was dead. Was that what allowed his parents to now live happily ever after? Karma for the pain, to live in peace together…That begs the question then: why is Lan Xichen the one bearing this alone, as though he were the only one deserving punishment?Is it his position as Sect Leader that holds him responsible, or is it something else? Unlike Lan Yu’s abrupt end, this slow drawn-out illness is not what most cultivators are used to putting up with. If he has been made a target of someone, it seems that the person who is punishing him bears a grudge against him, truly wanting him to suffer the most. “I think the kids are up to something.”“En.”A puff of air escapes Wei Ying. He can’t help being amused by his husband, even when his mind is tired. Even when they are facing what seems to be a dead-end. “Lan Zhan, tell me what you’re thinking. Is it about what Huaisang said?”“Hn.” That’s a no.After abandoning Jiang Cheng to his hangover (Which, quite frankly, Wei Ying feels no guilt doing whatsoever. Especially after the dog. The idiot needs to face his feelings, but knowing how he’d probably react… can anyone blame him wanting to avoid another violent outburst? A drunk Jiang Cheng was scary enough!), the two of them and Nie Huaisang proceeded with the arranged meeting. He told them the list had been dealt with, and also that the beggars… the beggars were just beggars. Unaffiliated with the Beggars’ Sect, or any other official organisation. He agreed that they were suspicious, but then surprised them when he suggested they might not, in fact, be the enemy.“Have any of them ever actually done anything malicious towards you?” Nie Huaisang enquired, halting them in their tracks. Wei Ying had thought it over but came to the conclusion that no. They hadn’t.“Then at this point, spending time and effort on investigating them is a waste. My advice would be to consider that there might be someone else behind all of this.”He’d folded his fan, reluctantly exposing his face.“As one who has been that person before, let me tell you… I am getting the feeling that we are not even truly aware of what it is we are facing, and until the opposition makes their move, we are stuck here just biding our time. Everything that is happening though… whilst it may not seem like it, it is possible that everything is connected.”Remembering how the scattered remains of Nie Mingjue led them to uncover all of Jin Guangyao’s trickery, and all the other seemingly dead-end clues contributed towards that discovery, he had to concede Nie Huaisang’s point. He promised to keep them informed on any further developments but warned them that there weren’t many rocks left for them to overturn. This opponent is truly an expert at the art of distraction. ‘What if this involves a higher power?’ Nie Huaisang had joked, but now Wei Ying can’t help but consider: what if?Lan Zhan hadn’t taken this suggestion well at all, which Wei Ying suspects is down to a certain group of juniors and their theories. Of course, he noticed the tension developing between Lan Zhan and their two Mini Jades, but now he wonders what they could have spoken about. What could they have said that would rattle Lan Zhan this badly? Though they had asked the children to leave this investigation to them, Wei Ying has noticed his reading materials being moved around. Part of him is proud to see them breaking some rules (and even more proud to know they are doing it for a good cause), but then, if there is a greater danger lurking behind all of this... he’d really prefer if they left this for the adults to deal with!(Whatever thoughts they’re having, he can’t help thinking that puberty is really messing with these kids’ brains. Whilst Sizhui is becoming moodier, Jingyi seems to have boundless energy and Jin Ling… well, he’s perhaps a couple of years too young to be affected. That Ouyang Zizhen though, wasn’t he caught reading pornography?)“My brother’s meditation,” Lan Zhan says. “That place he goes to. He cannot reach it anymore.”He remembers that hazy afternoon. All the incense clogging his throat. “Yes, you told me.”“Something must have changed.”Yes, but so much has changed.Wei Ying thinks that if what Nie Huaisang said is true and everything is connected… how far does it all go? Though Lan Xichen seems to be taking the brunt of whatever this thing is, does it affect more people than just him? In terms of how it’s affecting the family dynamics, he would conclude that yes, it definitely does. Whoever is doing this seems to bear a significant grudge against them.Whatever this is, it’s convoluted beyond even Jin Guangyao’s schemes.“Jiang Cheng is good at keeping his promises.”This random statement takes Wei Ying by surprise, but without thinking much on it, he agrees: “Yes. He’s always been good at that. He is too stubborn and has too much pride to go back on his word.”“Then he is reliable.” Again, this sounds more like a question than it should. Wei Ying nods uncertainly. Jiang Cheng is nothing if not dependable. He might be a stick in the mud and rigid in his thinking, but he is loyal to a fault. In what world could I get a dog and not risk having to give them away because of you? Lan Zhan sighs. “I have misjudged him.”Wei Ying’s jaw drops. Of course, Lan Zhan has no trouble owning up to his mistakes, but he and Jiang Cheng… “Misjudged him?”“He has offered his support throughout this.”Wei Ying nods, though he feels like he’s missing something.Jiang Cheng hasn’t come back yet, and it’s been nearly two weeks since he left. Despite this, Wei Ying has no doubt that he will return. However much he may struggle to accept his feelings, Jiang Cheng is good at keeping his promises and taking care of those whom he loves. His support continues even now, though Wei Ying has heard the disciples muttering that their correspondence has become somewhat one-sided…“That place in meditation,” Lan Zhan says again. “Brother has always followed the same path to reach it, but now he cannot. His spirit is wandering. His heart remains undecided.”(In Lan Zhan’s mind, he has been mulling over this same thought for weeks. For months. Usual cultivation methods are taught by teachers with a set framework and a known destination. To reach that place though, one must use a different method. As Lan Xichen described it to him once, this path was one chosen by the heart. All this time he’s been asking himself how his brother came to be lost, but what if the reason was this all along? What if it was because his heart has changed? He asked Lan Xichen when? before. When did this start? For how long has he had these feelings? It wasn’t a fair question at all. Even he cannot say when he was certain about Wei Ying. Perhaps it was right from the beginning, but looking back, he knows he could not comprehend this free-spirited person back then, let alone decide on anything. He had no idea what they would one day become.Anyway, this doesn’t add up time-wise. For such a thing to knock Lan Xichen off his course, it would have had to have begun back when he first entered seclusion, long before Jiang Cheng even entered the picture...)“Has this ever happened to you?” Wei Ying asks. “In a sense,” Lan Zhan says, reaching down to lace their fingers together. “My path changed when I met you.”
Something must have changed.
Slowly, Wei Ying turns around.This is something they haven’t discussed, but when he sees that same understanding reflected in his husband’s eyes, a weight is immediately lifted. Again, he cannot help but admire Lan Zhan’s sharp deductive skills. Then again, seeing Jiang Cheng lose his inhibitions also made it rather obvious. Wei Ying has never seen the man so distraught, smashing down walls and jumping into the lake…Suddenly he remembers the first time he saw a drunk Lan Zhan stealing a chicken. It has happened again since then. (Several times, in fact.) Each time, Wei Ying will find himself hugging that stolen chicken and feeling like the luckiest man in the world.Now he can’t help imagining Jiang Cheng stealing a chicken. Before he can laugh at that thought, Lan Zhan says, “Could it be a matter of waiting?” Wei Ying shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s that simple. Fate is not responsible for everything.”It took years and a considerable amount of effort for him and Lan Zhan to get to where they are today. Though ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ are off-limits between them, in his mind he thanks Lan Zhan for every time that he chose to stand by him. He thanks the fact that when he died, he carried on living without him. For all his patience and his devotion, and for enduring those years of endless waiting.Whilst this was happening, he’d like to think that he was still lurking around too. That his soul refused to leave. That instead of moving on to his next life, he was also waiting to return.(A pair of fiery, burning eyes. He’s seen them many times by now. “Since when have you ever let someone tell you what to do?” The dream comes to him almost daily. “Spit that out!”) Even though he is grateful for everything that brought him and Lan Zhan together, in the end, he refuses to believe it was guaranteed that they would be reunited. It may have been fate which allowed them to meet, but everything that happened afterwards… it would be doing them a great disservice to say that fate was the only reason for how their lives have turned out.“Are you sure you were reaching the same place each time?” Wei Ying asks though he is mostly talking to himself. “You said before that you would find yourself standing in the sea, but he wouldn’t be there. Meditating together, and yet he’d end up in completely different places...”“Wei Ying.”“Mm?”The pause drags with uncertainty, but Lan Zhan seems to be choosing his words. He sits up slowly, dark hair sliding backwards in a mesmerising cascade. Whatever he is thinking, it takes him almost two full minutes to assemble his thoughts.“I have ideas that I cannot explain,” he confesses. Even using words to express that much was a lot. Wei Ying understands this feeling completely. When he told Lan Zhan about his weird dreams, there was always a sense of helplessness about it. He couldn’t laugh it off either. Something about them had unnerved him too much. He hums, rubbing Lan Zhan’s back. “Even if they seem ridiculous to you, know that I won’t judge you for whatever you say. Why don’t you tell me?”Lan Zhan shakes his head grimly. He has been chastised once already. (This is most unlike you. Even exhausted, Lan Xichen blinked up at him with blurry eyes. You don’t tend to base judgement on behaviour without having the evidence to support it.) It’s not that what Jingyi told him had been upsetting in and of itself, but that it had echoed what he had been considering himself, and it was too… It was blasphemous, to put it lightly. He wouldn’t even know how much he'd have to punish Jingyi if he voiced aloud such a thought. It was that controversial. That was why he had silenced him, and why he has refused to speak with him about it ever since.The fact he cannot even put it into words is maddening. He just has to accept that it is wild speculation at this point. For now, he must withhold his judgement. He wouldn’t want to disappoint his brother by jumping to conclusions again, especially after they have been told that the beggars are innocent. “Anyway, back to your first point... you may have misjudged Jiang Cheng before,” Wei Ying says out of nowhere, “But everybody does that. Now you understand him better, you can depend on him. Even if you don’t like him, he’s a good person.”He remembers what Wei Ying said about him before: he’s like the waters of Yunmeng, murky but deep. Most of the time you can't see what's under there, but that mud is where the lotus chooses to grow...Lan Zhan says nothing, but they both know he agrees.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"It’s the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Twin sword flares glint through the heavy clouds, and then in a blink, the Spiders are gone.Their visit was as quick and business-like as ever, and after they were cornered by the juniors, the answers they gave were greatly lacking in depth. Write to your jiùjiu about this, Linzhen had said to Jin Ling. Her tone brooked no argument. This is for him to tell you about. Were the Spiders bound to secrecy, or was this some sort of ‘passing of the torch’ situation, or was Meishan Yu's family history really that much of a security risk?!If this was about their customs, Jin Ling had argued that technically writing to him wouldn’t be following their clan’s ‘oral tradition’ then, would it? He got slapped just for saying this. Jingyi had (understandably) sat very still, and waited quietly whilst the women finished scolding him.Now the Young Mistress is sulking to himself, but Jingyi figures he’ll get over it sooner or later. If not, there is something he has to say that might just distract him. After sneaking a glance at the younger boy, he considers his options. This might very well provoke a fight. Then again, between the two of them, sometimes just breathing is enough to provoke a fight!“Jin Ling, can I ask something about your uncle?” Jingyi doesn’t really know how to address this at all, but the thought is like an itch, unable to give him any peace. “Senior Jiang and Zewu-Jun, they’re… they’re very good friends, aren’t they?”It’s as if Jin Ling has been pricked with a needle. He spins around so fast he smacks Jingyi in the face with his ponytail! “And? What about it?” Jingyi rubs his cheek. “Do you think that—”“Do I think that what?”“Stop interrupting me!” Jin Ling’s face is completely red! After studying him for a few seconds, Jingyi points a finger at him. “Oh, so you do know what I’m talking about!” Several things happen next. Jin Ling springs to his feet as if to either attack him or to run away. Limbs fly everywhere. He ends up elbowing Jingyi in the face, and Jingyi’s knee lands in his gut. At this, Jingyi has no choice but to jump to his feet to avoid being strangled. To his credit, he tries to keep the fight verbal. A brawl would result in yet another punishment, and he’s already pushing it for the month’s quota!Jingyi wheezes, “Ah-ha! You wouldn’t be reacting like this if you didn’t know what I meant!!”Jin Ling, “Who knows what you mean?! You better watch what you say! I don’t need a good reason to break your legs!”“But you saw it too! And Xiao Ouyang—” “Fuck Xiao Ouyang!!” Jingyi gasps loudly.The Young Mistress stomps his foot. Kicks a tree. Hisses like a snake. His vermilion dot now looks pale compared to the rest of his complexion! “Both you and Xiao Ouyang need to get your eyes checked!”Whilst he continues to abuse the foliage, Jingyi’s mind is so muddled (or maybe it’s the concussion) that he can only sit and try to collect his thoughts. Without meaning to, this just answered his question. It’s confirmation enough that he wasn’t just seeing things! Jin Ling wouldn’t be reacting this badly if it was all in his head! Jingyi squeezes his temples. This means that when they got punished for Xiao Ouyang ‘misunderstanding the situation’, in fact, it really was— He lets out a mournful groan. “So it turns out, we were actually punished for no reason…”Just at that moment, Jin Ling starts slashing at the bushes with Suihua. He would have chopped Sizhui in half if he didn't have such fast reflexes! After this near-miss with death, the eldest boy frowns at the sight of them. He lets out a long sigh. “It’s not even been five minutes. What happened now?”Jin Ling swings Suihua towards Jingyi. “Don’t you dare even say it!”Jingyi's throat bobs. He boldly meets Sizhui’s tired eyes. “Zewu-Jun and Senior Jiang, what do you think?!”Sizhui looks at both of them. Then he slowly turns heel and walks away. For a moment, both of them simply watch. Then Jin Ling scoffs and also flounces away, leaving Jingyi sitting on the bench alone. He doesn’t mind that. Right now, he’s still a little bit dazed, because… Zewu-Jun and Senior Jiang? The thing is, when the Spiders arrived with an actual letter at hand, he and Jin Ling had nearly lost their minds. They ran all the way to the Gentian House in their excitement, and then… it wasn’t even that special, or it wouldn’t have been in any other circumstance, but Zewu-Jun had smiled at them. The main difference came when his eyes landed on the scroll. His whole face lit up and the way he… the way he… Jingyi had to be dragged outside by Jin Ling. They then waited almost a full hour for him to write his response. Whilst waiting outside, Jingyi couldn’t help but notice that he’d gotten goosebumps from Zewu-Jun’s smile. Sizhui had explained goosebumps to him, and how it was one way he would know when Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun were in desperate need of some alone time… but surely it wasn’t because of that reason, though?As if to argue otherwise, his rebellious mind takes him back to the last time Jiang Cheng was in Gusu. There had been that song he’d been humming. When questioned who it was for, all he’d said was: Who says it’s for anyone? Maybe I just heard it from somewhere—“Oh my god,” Jingyi croaks, staring blankly at nothing. He thought it was the dog! “Oh. My. God.”Being alone is suddenly unbearable! Those cowards! Neither one of them wants to face the truth, so now he must face it alone?! And Ouyang Zizhen is again writing rules for getting caught, so Jingyi has no choice but to smack his own leg in excitement. Now that Jin Ling has gone to his private lessons, Jingyi can’t help but wonder… does Xiao Ouyang really need his eyes checked, or is it that he was actually right all along? Proper sword care. Jiang Cheng would bet his life that Wei Wuxian’s Suibian and his unnamed sword are both filthy. He clicks his tongue, sweeping oil back and forth over Sandu till it gleams against the firelight. Compared to its liquid glow, his hands are rough and stained. Always stained these days. Jiang Cheng prefers ink to mud though, so he can’t complain. He peers over at the desk, where a short stack of correspondence awaits him. Ever since Lan Xichen’s reply to his confession came, he’s been taking double the time to read each one that comes. The first one he got had been… rather underwhelming actually. No different to ones that came previously. It seemed that all his worries had been for nothing. Nothing has changed. Lan Xichen writes to him much the same as he did before, filling each page with gentle reminders to take care of himself and queries about his day-to-day activities. Though his letters are getting progressively shorter, they are no less warm. Most included winding rivers flowing around the margins, flowers and fishes tucked at the corners. There has been no mention of the poem though, nor the drunken letter. (Could he have misunderstood what it meant? Did he even read them at all? How can one misunderstand such a thing? The only way he could have been clearer was if he’d written his feelings in blood!!)After some thought, Jiang Cheng took this as a good sign. He reminded himself—this was what he'd been expecting. It wouldn’t make sense to give up on their friendship just because there was a difference in the depth of feeling from one side. He assumed Lan Xichen thought so too, and so this was… good, he told himself. They have indeed weathered that storm.Part of him though slightly wishes there had been at least some acknowledgement on Lan Xichen’s end. Even days later, it sometimes feels like he carved out his heart and sent it in that letter. In that shitty poem too. His chest aches when he really stops to think about it.There are two more weeks until he returns to Gusu. Two weeks to get over this.Of course, he’s counting the days, and fretting over every single one. Two weeks and yet every morning he wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s ridiculous. He is glad he was honest. The weight he was carrying is gone, but now he just feels jittery just at the thought of seeing Lan Xichen. Eager, but also terrified.Lan Xichen doesn’t hate him now, does he? From the way he writes, he wouldn’t say that he does, but he's always taken Lan Xichen’s friendliness at face-value, never second-guessing that it might be forced. The First Jade is known to smile in the most difficult of situations. He is just going to have to trust that that isn’t what is happening here. (Answer me this, are we friends? Jiang Cheng sucks in a deep breath as that conversation drifts back to him. After breaking the inkstone, after screaming in Lan Xichen’s face, that idiot asked Jiang Cheng this and let him decide what they were.Good, that’s good, he had said later, smiling in relief.)If only there weren’t this damn rumour—well, eventually there would be other rumours to deal with. Jiang Cheng knows that even though the Core-Stealing Hand is the biggest news on the block, his frequent visits to Gusu have stirred up other sorts of gossip. The most ironic one: Sandu Shengshou has become a cut-sleeve, lusting after the noble Zewu-Jun! What would those bastards do if he turned around and said: Yes, you’re absolutely correct, I am! Just the thought twists his mouth several times. From a smirk to a grimace, from amusement to the deepest shame. If he came out as a cut-sleeve Sect Leader, the consequences would be disastrous. Not only his own reputation would be ruined, but that of his sect, and that of his family, and… no, a love like his was already doomed from the start.He can’t help but wonder if this is partly how his mother felt.As Jiang Cheng polishes Sandu in the same rhythm, following the same smooth motions she taught him, he thinks about her life, and how painful it had been to watch her sometimes. He is aware now of the dangers in comparing himself, and how quickly and easily he can lose himself to that downwards spiral… but A-Niang is the only person he knows who suffered an unrequited love.She spent all her life resenting that she was second best, never content with making the most of things. If it was self-pity at first, that pity eventually became distorted over time and turned itself into self-hatred. He can recognise that whenever he looks in the mirror and finds his mother staring back at him. He can still recall the taste of smoke, the sweetness of her perfume, and how the shove she gave him nearly collapsed his lung.Staring up from the boat, her eyes blazed like the fire surrounding her. So what if he’s not coming back? Can’t I live without him? But A-Niang, did you even live by yourself? He asks this question in his head, safe in the knowledge that she cannot hear him. She would probably thrash him a hundred times for daring to say such a thing. Jiang Cheng cracks a smile at this. Who would have thought that one day his mother’s harsh punishments would become something he'd miss?For such a long time, not even the good moments from his past could be appreciated properly. Everything was clouded with anger, choked with grief. All was lost to him. Everything. Are you so willing to forget everything that you’ll give up the good with the bad? Not anymore he isn’t. Now Jiang Cheng holds onto even this faint comfort like a treasure. He wouldn’t count it as something good, but it had been A-Niang the very last time he saw her. Despite all her faults, he is finally able to accept that she had been far from perfect.And even though she had been wrong on many points, it didn’t change the fact that he had loved her.(They don’t talk about Lan Xichen’s sworn brothers much because what happened between them is for him to come to terms with, but… to mourn them so deeply, Jiang Cheng realises they must have had some good times together. He hopes that for this reason, Lan Xichen will also learn to make good on his own advice.)Lan Xichen was the one who told him that comparison was the death of joy. He can only be himself. Though A-Niang had been a strong, proud woman, her misery ended up affecting so many people. Her jealousy had been suffocating, her anger and resentment seeped into everything. Beneath it all had been a deep pain, but that didn't excuse her inflicting that pain on others.Jiang Cheng grits his teeth because he knows he fell into the same bad habit of doing this, but that was before, and now he… (You can see that, can’t you? You can see that I’ve changed? Lan Xichen had stared at him, something oddly familiar in that complicated expression. I can see that… despite everything, you’re willing to forgive if not forget.)Jiang Cheng sheaths Sandu. Inhale, exhale. Again, twice. Polish the sword. Nourish the core. Let them bind together. He thinks to himself, A-Niang, I have told him the truth now, before family and love, but that doesn’t sit quite right. Things are never that simple or clear-cut. Lan Xichen is a friend as dear to him as family, and as for truth and love… well, they are the very heart of the matter. Jiang Cheng places a hand on his abdomen, feeling warm golden energy swirling inside him—this energy which, he hopes, is protecting Lan Xichen's core too.In this instance, he finds he doesn't want to be like his mother. Miserable and bitter. He’s lived that life already. He is finished with it. The incredible thing is that there is no bitterness here. Simply by being friends with Lan Xichen his life is already made better. There is only regret that they are miles apart.
With this, you will be painting me the world through your eyes. I will be grateful for all that you can show me. The good, the bad, and everything in between…
What a world Lan Xichen has already shown him though, or taught him to see for himself. In all its shades of grey, it is both more difficult and easier to accept, for all its beauty and devastation. Now it means something to him that on the other side of his letters is a man who will appreciate all the little things he notices. Walking alone, he is never alone. If friendship is all that there will be between them then he will be grateful for it, because a friendship like this is already more than he deserves.Lan Xichen will never know how much he’s given him—that even weighed down with all the drudgery of his life and duties, there is a light that he can see now, golden in its splendour… and whilst Jiang Cheng knows that this heartache will haunt him forever, his desires aren’t so unbearable when he thinks about how lucky he is. Yes, he will be buried with this yearning, but he will live his life before that.It’s as he’s placing Sandu in its stand that Jiang Cheng pauses, staring at this sword that he has carried since he was eight years old. Sandu. He didn’t even get to open his mouth before it was named by the blacksmith who forged it for him. Wei Wuxian always said it was good that he hadn’t, otherwise, he would have named it Pointy.
...
... Sandu, though? For an eight-year-old boy? He's never thought too long about it, but in this type of mood, he can't help but consider it.Maybe it was always his fate to be hounded by the Three Poisons. Greed. Hatred. Delusion. Each one of these he has carried with him at one point in time. He could reclaim them again (quite easily, in fact). It would be so easy to covet Lan Xichen all to himself or to lash out at everything that dared to separate them, or to convince himself that he is worth that what he wants is within his reach.But doing any of these things would feel like a betrayal, or like taking a step backwards…(Tell me then, what do you see? He’d asked this as a challenge. A compliment would be as bad an insult as the truth. He loathed flattery more than anything, and expected with Lan Xichen’s good manners and gentle heart, he’d heap praise onto him with the hope that it would please him. Jiang Cheng had thought it would take some time for Lan Xichen to come up with an answer, but then he replied quickly and without hesitation: I see a man who holds himself to an impossible standard. Who has concentrated so much on putting one foot in front of the other, that he cannot appreciate the great distances he’s crossed.)If there’s one thing Jiang Cheng knows for certain, it's that Lan Xichen deserves to choose for himself what type of life he wants, and whether to spend it with someone by his side. He has responded to him as a friend which (in Jiang Cheng’s eyes) is his decision stated tactfully, even with the intention of saving both of them some face.Now he just needs these next couple weeks to be able to show that face to him again.Finished with sword-care, Jiang Cheng returns to his desk, where there are three letters in total including Lan Xichen’s. He nudges this aside, his fingers lingering over the blue ribbon. There are two other letters he must read before dedicating time to this one. Firstly, a note from Nie Huaisang:A brief message simply telling him that Lan Wangji’s attempt at impersonating his brother hadn’t been as convincing to the public as they’d hoped (and only really managed to make some people concerned about Hanguang-Jun’s state of mind). Nie Huaisang also wrote to be cautious if taking a trip to Gusu, because the current watch-tower schedule around that area was teeming with guest cultivators and minor clans.By this, he was implying that these parties might be the clans intent on dragging Jiang Cheng’s name through the mud.Jiang Cheng jots down a quick reply of acknowledgement, and then some thanks, because this? This is more involvement than one would expect the once guileless Head-Shaker to ever trouble himself with. Though they have never technically stopped being friends, this is perhaps one of the few times Jiang Cheng finds himself appreciating the man.When Jiang Cheng scans the second messily scribbled letter, he bristles at pretty much everything he reads. What on earth is that brat thinking? Sending him a letter asking him to conduct some research for him? (As if he has the time for such a thing!) Did he not tell him to study hard by himself? What is he even sending Jin Ling over there if he is asking him for help with his studies?!(It couldn’t be that he was lacking in material to study. Between himself and Lan Xichen, they had his year fully planned out. Could it be that the curriculum at the Cloud Recesses has changed that much since he went there to study? What the fuck is Lan Qiren teaching these kids nowadays? Or is this by Lan Xichen’s instruction? In which case… well, the sect founders were the original sect leaders.Maybe this is another lesson he’s decided to include, for whatever reason… he can't complain.)After grumbling for a few minutes, Jiang Cheng eventually takes the list of questions and trudges his way outdoors. Hidden at the outer reaches of the property, the Jiang family’s treasure room is buried in a crypt surprisingly close to the water, with protective talismans naturally keeping it safe and undetected. It took years to hunt down the four thousand odd treasures that had been stolen by the Wens, but in the end, he managed it.At least these treasures managed to go untouched! Lotus Pier would not be standing had this knowledge been destroyed during the Wens’ siege. Afterwards, when he was left with only his flimsy recollections to rely on, he depended heavily on the guidance of his forebears for the more intricate parts of rebuilding. That was perhaps why home never felt quite like home. It was more faithful to a Lotus Pier he had never known.Hundreds if not thousands of years of history were concealed beneath these layers of rock. As Jiang Cheng descends the stairs, goosebumps spread over his body the deeper he ventures. The last time he came here was to verify what carving method was needed for the throne room, but for this, he must dig his way back to much older records. So, about this Jiang Chi... Lan Qiren must be asking Jin Ling to research his ancestors for some sort of assignment. Despite himself, he is intrigued. None of these books can leave the room, so he jots down some notes for Jin Ling instead…
[Anything about a big fight. A battle that they fought together before Jiang Chi founded the sect.]
After some digging, it seemed that Jiang Chi had been as adventurous as he was stupid.Ancestral veneration his ass! This man was a true ‘rogue cultivator’ in every sense of the word, with an insatiable wanderlust! Jiang Cheng’s eyes almost roll fully back into his skull at the sheer volume of bullshit he has to wade through! What constitutes a ‘big fight’ when this man fought literally everything he came across?! It’s a miracle he even made it to adulthood! Eventually, after many, many adventures, Jiang Chi decided on this part of the world to settle in. Partly he loved the climate, but he was also drawn to its people, and… hang on, it had been grasslands? 'Lush and green', he describes it. 'Covered in mulberry fields'. The perfect place to build a settlement on… (Mulberry fields[1] though? In Yunmeng? There are patches of other greenery here and there, but… mulberry fields?)Apparently, shortly after he arrived, the lakes that formed around Lotus Pier were made after massive flooding. Not long after this, Yunmeng Jiang was founded. Indeed, it is written that an epic battle led to these floods happening, since the creature they were fighting was a—Jiang Cheng scrubs his eyes. A sea-lord? He has to sit down for a moment. It’s true that all sorts of strange mythical beasts have been documented in their clan’s history, but this one brings tales of sea dragons to mind… tales that his sister used to tell him when he was really little, usually right before they went swimming. She’d dive underneath and pinch at his toes, nearly causing him to have multiple heart attacks, and giving him nightmares for weeks!Anyway, according to his journal, Jiang Chi was just about to establish his sect when a young woman appeared at the shore already battling this 'sea-lord'. Their acquaintance was made during this fight, with Jiang Chi desperate to protect Yunmeng (presumably seeing this battle as an opportunity to also stake a claim on these lands) and this woman just… beating the shit out of this other guy.Jiang Chi filled several pages simply praising her awesome fighting skills.Jiang Cheng skims through most of this.Jin Ling asked about a ‘Lan Yu’ in his plea for homework help. If this ‘fierce warrior friend’ Jiang Chi describes is that Lan Yu he asked for, then this is all he needed to confirm! Now he can get back to doing his actual Sect Leader duties instead of… instead of… well damn. That's interesting.Huh. Jiang Chi writes:
[The fair Maiden Lan later apologised to us for her part in the destruction.
She confessed to me that she had a score to settle with our opponent which had resulted in that battle; grievances of which had been borne from a great personal loss. It had meant that she had been chasing them all the way to the coast over the course of several years. So long as both of them lived though, she vowed she would continue to seek revenge against the beast…]
“A great personal loss?” he echoes.So it’s likely that this creature killed someone she had loved, which is just… incredible. Unbelievable. With just this small excerpt, he feels more kinship with (and respect for) Lan Yu than Jiang Chi! Wherever his founder is in the afterlife, the old man surely must be spitting on him!Now he’s hooked, he takes a bit more time to read about the aftermath. Apparently once Yunmeng Jiang was built, Lan Yu received the spoils of their battle for her assistance throughout those efforts, and she and Jiang Chi also swore brother-sisterhood together. She also gifted her new-found friend with a… a silver bell (the Yunmeng Jiang bell? Is that where it came from?!) that she had brought with her from her birth sect.Jiang Chi tried his best to convince Lan Yu to join him and his wife in establishing their sect, but she declined because she was already a part of—Meishan Yu!?“No fucking way!” Jiang Cheng exclaims, slamming the book in his shock. A cloud of dust chokes him (as if in retaliation). He coughs himself hoarse and then leans back to consider this properly. So Lan Yu became part of Meishan Yu? But his mother was also from Meishan Yu. Could that mean that both of his parents were descendants of Jiang Chi and Lan Yu respectively??The only thing that could support this theory would be the fact that his mother sang well. Really well.If that musical ability came from her Lan blood, then perhaps that made more sense, because Jiang Cheng cannot recall his father ever singing. The fact that Meishan Yu’s customs are taught via song (or ‘oral tradition’) also has that connection to Lans. Assuming that Lan Yu was a singer, or some sort of musician, what if this was a tradition that originated from her?This is the point where Jiang Cheng realises he will really have to check with the Spiders to confirm all of this, but… ah, he cringes at the thought. Those two never like it when he asks about such things. Having grown up having to recite and memorise Meishan Yu histories countless times, they really do not enjoy doing it. Especially not for him. If this is for Jin Ling though, maybe they might be a little bit more willing…?If he’s being honest, he’s curious to learn the truth for himself… but Jiang Cheng shakes his head. Even if they confirm Lan Yu’s part in this, too much of this story is unbelievable. Mulberry fields? A fight causing such flooding? Maybe Jiang Chi fancies himself to be the next Great Yu[2], but really! What part of it can he believe when this type of person is the one writing this down?!He gathers his notes and then bends down to pick up the book, but just as he’s doing so… just as he’s reaching out, the action reminds him of a dream he had months ago.
Immersed underwater, unable to see anything through the darkness.
There is movement above. A flash of a sword flying past. Through the water he can hear someone yelling… a woman. A woman who sounds like his mother? (Could that be Lan Yu?!) The dark flash of an enormous silhouette ripples through the water, the blast of its wake throwing him sideways.
Through the darkness, an enraged roar rips through the water. The woman dives down, something clutched in her hand. It slips out of her grasp, glinting brightly—[3]
Lan Yu received the spoils of their battle… so does that mean she managed to take something from this sea-lord then? After a moment of pondering whether that dust he inhaled was actually a hallucinogenic, Jiang Cheng carefully replaces the old books and makes his way upstairs. The moment he crawls out of the trapdoor, the first thing he notices is that it’s rather quiet for midday in Lotus Pier.Not thinking much of it, he continues towards his office, meaning to put Jin Ling’s notes together (and attach them to an appropriately scolding letter).It’s when he breaches the gates that reality slaps him in the face. It’s as if a sound barrier has been broken! For a split second, Jiang Cheng feels like he’s stepped back into the dream, his head filled with that monstrous screeching, only this time it is a chorus of frantic footsteps beating the side of his skull—“Boss!”Linzhen crashes into him with the force of a battering ram, nearly knocking him right off his feet. He barely has time to recover before Minzhen comes tearing down the corridor. Schhlk! Jiang Cheng snatches Sandu out of the air and spins around to face them. “What is it? Are we under attack?!”They glance at each other. “Attack? No sir, it’s—”Linzhen grabs him by the shoulders, “Boss! Where! Have! You! Been?!”Automatically he snaps: “None of your business!” They’ll only tease him if he admits he was doing Jin Ling’s homework! Squinting through the window, the sun hasn’t changed position that much. He can’t have spent more than an hour down there. Jiang Cheng slowly lowers his sword. “What’s with all this commotion then?”Even the other servants are racing around like headless chickens! “Jin Ling came by,” Minzhen says.Jin Ling? It’s only been two weeks and the brat is already homesick? Jiang Cheng sighs, but then he stops to think about it. Jin Ling returning to Lotus Pier wouldn’t warrant this amount of alarm, unless—“What happened? Where is he?” Jiang Cheng demands. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Zhizhong passing by. After seizing him by the collar, “You—listen here! Send A-Ling to my office, and… and tell everyone to stop making so much noise! Running around like this, ask them if they want their fucking legs broken or not!!”Zhizhong, “Yes, Sect Leader!” As he jogs to his office, he tells himself: Jin Ling can’t be in trouble.Gusu Lan wouldn’t allow Jin Ling to go roaming on his own, or… at least not without his two Lan friends, and that Ouyang Zizhen to back him up. That in itself brings him more anxiety, because how is that meant to be a comforting thought?! In the end, they’re all just children! With him swinging between panicked and slightly-less-panicked, Jiang Cheng kicks open his office door and does his best to rationalise his thoughts. He can only imagine that all of this chaos must be from Jin Ling barrelling his way into Lotus Pier unannounced. Otherwise, his servants would know exactly how to behave—in other words, not like this! If Jin Ling tossed himself in like a fox among chickens, either he is badly injured or he must be perfectly fine!If it ends up that he is perfectly fine, Jiang Cheng is going to remind him how easily that can be changed!Jiang Cheng drums his fingers on the desk, the vibrations rattling the wood till his last unopened letter rolls across. Lan Xichen. Ah, it probably isn’t the best time to start reading it if Jin Ling’s drama is imminent… but he craves some calm. Something to distract himself after this rude interruption. Twining the blue silk ribbon around his thumb, Jiang Cheng lets out a slow breath.The ribbon slips through his fingers.It turns out there isn’t much to read.And for once, the differences are staggering. Lan Xichen’s elegant script has turned into a loose scrawl that has Jiang Cheng pausing. If it were him slipping into this style of writing, he wouldn’t think much of it. His ink flows according to his moods. Lan Xichen has described it before as if his mind were racing ahead of his brush, but here he can imagine Lan Xichen’s fingers losing their grip…When he held his hands in his, that time on the cliff, his fingers had been so cold. He was so weak and tired after their walk in the snow. Jiang Cheng’s throat clicks dryly, his eyes trailing around smudged waterfalls and wonky boats, before drifting towards the text at the middle—
Crack!
The door slams into the wall, splitting in two!Jin Ling rushes in, Minzhen stumbling right after him. His face is completely red, but when he sees Jiang Cheng it changes between pale and flushed. Immediately that feeling of dread returns, but when Jiang Cheng scans him over, he can see nothing wrong other than his expression.“Causing so much panic, and for what?!” He scoffs. “Why have you even bothered to come here? You send me a long list of things to research, and then abandon your studies—Jin Ling?”The boy’s breathing has gone funny and he keeps clenching and unclenching his hands. The fact that he refuses to meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes is the most concerning thing. If there’s anything he’s taught Jin Ling to do, it’s to never shy away from eye-contact!Jin Ling gnaws at his lip. “I was having lessons with Zewu-Jun…”Jiang Cheng circles the desk slowly in a way he hopes is comforting rather than threatening. Placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder, a whimper escapes him. Is he injured?! No… but he’s hugging Suihua? Jiang Cheng pats him over, his head pounding from all this unanticipated stress.“What happened?” Jiang Cheng darts a glance at Minzhen. Before she can answer, another red-faced boy is shoved through the broken door! Seeing this one stops Jiang Cheng in his tracks. “Jingyi?”Not only is Jingyi red-faced, but he is also in tears. Ice floods Jiang Cheng’s veins at the sight. “What happened?” he repeats. Jingyi shakes his head, unable to speak. Jiang Cheng stands between both boys, caught in uncertainty as his dread turns quickly into fear. “Someone say something!”“S… Senior Wei has sent for you.” Jingyi holds out a scrap of paper. His face crumples. “He says… he says…”Jin Ling suddenly lets out a wail. “I didn’t do anything! He just collapsed!”Collapsed?Thunder in his head, striking to the beat of his heart. He staggers sideways, grasping for the edge of his desk. Linzhen’s mouth moves but he cannot hear anything. Collapsed? Someone is squeezing his arm. I was having lessons with Zewu-Jun... Jiang Cheng whirls around. Jingyi is tugging at his sleeve, red eyes wide and pleading—He drops the letter and runs. Sandu is a streak of lightning piercing through the sky.There is seemingly an endless expanse between where he is and where he needs to be. It feels like his mind is still swimming in those dark, murky waters.Behind him, Jiang Cheng is vaguely aware of four other swords whistling. He cannot bring himself to look back. He just collapsed! He can barely breathe. In his head, he repeats over and over: Lan Xichen must be fine. It’s without thinking that he cuts the quickest path to Gusu. By now these routes are ones that he could navigate blindfolded—“Boss!”The cry comes a split second before the whistle of an arrow. It glances past his cheek. Jiang Cheng whirls around, Zidian unfurling in a blazing arc. Jingyi and Jin Ling scramble behind him. The Spiders also pull out their own whips. There are men on the ground, pouring out from the watch-towers. Well… it seems that Nie Huaisang was right!“Boss, we’re surrounded,” Linzhen says, her whip lashing side to side. “We’re not going to make it out without fighting our way through.”Just as she says this, one man leaps up onto his sword. If Jiang Cheng could be bothered—no, even then he probably wouldn’t recognise who this person is at all. He has nothing that distinguishes him apart from the rest, with the same arrogant smirk stretched across his face.“Sect Leader Jiang!” he calls out. “Finally you have decided to—”“I don’t have time for this.” Jiang Cheng swings Zidian, and with a single swipe the man topples off his sword. Unfortunately, this enrages the rest. Soon more of them are leaping up on their swords. This is getting out of hand!Suddenly there is the sound of more approaching swords coming from a different direction, but above that is the ring of a purer metal… the silvery chime of more than a dozen bells!When Jiang Cheng turns to look, he finds an entire host of purple-robed figures circling him. The sight of this also stops the minor sects in their tracks. Jiang Cheng’s mouth hangs open for a while. He didn’t even summon them here and yet his disciples came?? Linzhen immediately flies up to meet them, barking out orders and directing them with short strikes of her whip.Minzhen lets out a yell of surprise as Jingyi twists mid-air, hurtling downwards to meet the ground without any warning. Jiang Cheng makes to grab him, but then he sees— “Oh fucking hell! Not you too!”“Senior Jiang!” Xiao Ouyang yells, waving from the ground.Jiang Cheng, “What the fuck are you doing here? Did Jingyi bring you?!”Why is he even asking? The little boy is clinging to Jingyi’s back, his sword hooked over his shoulder. This mouse is no longer such a mouse! “I came to help, Senior Jiang!” he exclaims as more Gusu Lan disciples emerge from the undergrowth. For god’s sakes! Where the hell is he meant to direct his attention now?! Jiang Cheng hisses, spinning around to snatch another three arrows right out of the air. “Can’t you see,” he snarls, snapping them all in his fist, “That we are trying to have a conversation here?!”The archer ducks behind their bow. Jiang Cheng scoffs again when a familiar figure darts forwards, flying up to meet him. Sect Leader Yao jabs a meaty finger at his face. “Your priority should be conversing with us!” Narrowing his eyes, he sneers, “Very well. State your reasons for blocking my path. I’ll give you… two minutes.”Another man surges forwards, levelling his sword at Jiang Cheng’s face. “You come here planning to steal Zewu-Jun’s core and then deny all knowledge of this! As if such news isn’t known to the whole cultivation world by now! Since when did Sect Leader Jiang have such a thick face?”Jiang Cheng, “Since time was of the essence and you have proven yourself a waste of my time.”The man swings around to rally the others. “See? He doesn’t even try to deny it!”Deny it? What good would denying it do? Once a person thinks you’re guilty, no matter what you do, until you are dead you will be guilty! “I need to leave,” Jiang Cheng says to Minzhen.Minzhen nods, “On it, boss.”“You really dare to feign ignorance!” Sect Leader Yao jeers, causing Linzhen to bare her teeth in return. “You come here with a whole fleet of disciples! Another siege, and on poor Zewu-Jun no less! Sect Leader Jiang, are you truly so desperate for power that you would steal a man’s core? Have you no shame?!”Linzhen snaps her whip. “You say such a thing when it’s obvious this is an ambush of your own making? Sect Leader Yao, have you no shame?”Clearly he hadn’t been expecting this! “Well I… I never—”Minzhen laughs frostily, knocking elbows with her sister. “Yes, you never! And you won’t!!” With one wave of her hand, Yunmeng Jiang stands to attention. “Okay, listen up everyone. Sect Leader needs to leave! On my mark… move out!” Immediately, Linzhen descends with the Yunmeng Jiang right on her heels. Even as Jiang Cheng weaves his way between the flashing swords, this perfect display of coordination sends a jolt to his system. Though Zidian sizzling and sparking beside him, not one of them flinches away as he passes. It seems his mother’s drills have finally sunk in!!Even so, he finds himself dodging several attacks, though with a flick of his wrist most of them are deflected. All of this… it doesn’t look good and he knows it. First, he didn’t even bother defending himself, and now his disciples (and the Gusu Lan) are fighting on his behalf. All of this will be held accountable against them, but they have passed the point of no return. Jiang Cheng’s skin itches at the sound of clashing swords and battle cries. “Minzhen!” he snaps. She waves an arm at him, already diving down to direct the Gusu Lan on the ground. At this, some of the opposing clans falter, probably shocked to see Gusu Lan falling in with the Yunmeng Jiang disciples. Typical! This lot probably only volunteered to fight to gain some favour without knowing heads or tails of the situation! Now that they’re seeing the Gusu Lan disciples fighting on Jiang Cheng’s behalf? It wouldn’t make sense for them to do that unless they were— “Traitors!” Jiang Cheng’s heart stops right then. Did they just… are they actually accusing some pre-teen disciples of being traitors?! Sect Leader Yao, “They must be staging a coup! Catch them!!”“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Do these people have no brains?! God, this is just getting worse and worse! Even though his haze of foggy panic, he can recognise that these are just children! Are they so desperate they’re willing to do this? “Have you lost your minds? That doesn’t even make any sense—”Jin Ling drops down, and the moment his feet hit the ground he begins flinging arrows in a circle. When he catches Jiang Cheng’s eye, he scowls. “What are you still doing here? Get going! We’ll be right behind you!”Jiang Cheng watches his nephew’s eyes narrow to deadly slits, gritting his teeth as he shoots five arrows in one. Then Jingyi lets out a mournful croak that splits the ground right down the middle! This causes several disciples to screech in alarm, and even Jiang Cheng leaps back in shock. He hesitates for just a moment—But a moment is all it takes.A very familiar squeak catches his attention to Xiao Ouyang tumbling off Jingyi’s sword. His descent is cut short before Jiang Cheng can even put his thoughts together. Suddenly he is just there snagging the boy by the back of his robes. Back in the thick of it, he hears Minzhen let out a hissing curse, but it’s too late now. He spins around, looking for somewhere to drop the kid off—“Jiang-xiong!!”“Huaisang?!”The fight stops right then. A chorus of Chief Cultivator? Chief Cultivator Nie is here?! echoes around.Jiang Cheng gapes. It’s not often that you see Nie Huaisang actually using his sabre, but here he is—hovering at the forest canopy, half-blended in amongst the greenery. He has also brought yet another fleet of cultivators, hemming the area in with a wall of his own disciples. Jiang Cheng can only stare in shock. Since when has Nie Huaisang ever…“Jiang-xiong, go! I’ll handle this!” Nie Huaisang shouts, throwing some hand signals over his shoulder. Never has he seen him like this before! Grim and determined, glowering at everyone! For a split second, Jiang Cheng sees Nie Mingjue in his bearing. Eyes flashing and face dark with righteous fury. “What are you waiting for? Go!” With a ferocious cry, Xiao Ouyang pulls away and flings himself at a passing cultivator, yelling as he tackles them to the floor. Even Zidian isn’t fast enough to catch him as he disappears into the fray. With his heart in his throat, Jiang Cheng is torn between diving after him or leaving him to it. He cannot leave things like this. He’s never been one to abandon a fight! This is his responsibility, but… but Lan Xichen collapsed—A rumble of thunder. Lightning fills the sky. Jin Ling zooms past, swift as his own arrows. Jingyi yells something, frantically waving him over. Jiang Cheng sucks in a sharp breath, his heart pounding with each tremble of the earth.There is no room left to think.As the heavens open above him, he aims Sandu towards the darkening sky.
Everywhere there are shadows. Dark, thick clouds smothering the snowy peaks. The wind shrieks and howls, but aside from that there are no signs of life on the mountain. Not a speck of white robes to be seen anywhere. Zidian lights the way, shining like a beacon for the other two to follow. Gripping his jade token, Jiang Cheng stops at the hanshi. It’s empty.“This way,” Jingyi says, dragging him away from staring at the fluttering seals. So many of them have become unstuck and litter the floor like fallen leaves. When did Lan Xichen move out of the hanshi? Does that mean all those seals he wrote were for nothing? Of course, they never confirmed that they were doing anything, but still! What a waste! Jiang Cheng shakes off Jingyi’s hand. He doesn’t even need to think to know where Lan Xichen must have gone. There is only one other place he would want to be.When he arrives, he takes in the scene like he would a battlefield.As he looks over the beaten grass and the frozen pond curved around the small wooden cottage, he notices firelight flickering through the shuttered windows. A tall plume of smoke drifting up from the chimney. Seeing this, Jiang Cheng lets out a relieved breath.At the same time, he feels like he’s missed something.With this type of assembly, such a gathering should convey the gravity of the situation, but Jiang Cheng still cannot quite comprehend it. Cannot connect thought to thought, or feeling to feeling. Just what type of situation has he walked into here? Something is ringing in his ear. There is a buzzing sound. A hollowness that carves itself deeper inside him. Each step is like walking over broken glass, with something shattering in the silence. Each one brings him closer to an understanding, but that knowledge is just slightly beyond his grasp. At first everyone’s faces all look the same to him. It’s only when he comes closer that each passing umbrella shields him long enough to see who is who amongst the crowd.There is A-Ming and A-Tao too, both of their heads bobbing as they search for something (or someone)… ah, probably their shīdì. Jiang Cheng gives them a curt nod. Xiao Ouyang is under the protection of his own guards and Nie Huaisang’s command. He will be alright. Then there is Lan Sizhui sitting beside Wen Ning, a miniature guqin cradled in his arms. Jiang Cheng hesitates, seeing this. He’s been shown that instrument before in the hanshi. When Sizhui lifts his head to acknowledge him, he reaches an arm out—but it is Jingyi and Jin Ling who go rushing to his side. The three of them huddle together. Sizhui passes Jingyi what looks like an old tattered book, and his face goes completely white.Watching this, Jiang Cheng’s feet slow to a stop. He finds he doesn’t want to walk any further.He doesn’t know if he can.There are juniors, seniors, disciples, and elders… has everybody come here? In this weather? Again, he stops to consider why is everybody here—“Jiang Cheng.”Wei Wuxian waves at him. Jiang Cheng walks over stiffly. “Yunmeng Jiang has come to… to offer assistance?”Wei Wuxian’s face may be different, but those eyes haven’t changed one bit.Jiang Cheng squints at his brother in the same expectant way he has done since he was a little boy. So what am I even doing here? is what that look used to ask. He would have followed him grumbling all the way, even as he hung on his every word. Now he begs him with his silence: Wei Wuxian, tell me what I’m supposed to do. I don’t understand what’s going on. His eyes flick downwards.“Liebing?” Wei Wuxian nods and holds it out to show him, but Jiang Cheng can only stare in confusion. “Why do you have it?”(Why did he carry Chenqing for thirteen long years? Why did he polish that flute that was never once blown? Jiang Cheng already knows the answer. He sees it in his brother’s eyes. In his smile that isn’t a smile.Lan Xichen is a sentimental hoarder. He keeps everything that matters to him close at hand. Every scrap of a drawing, every scribble of calligraphy. If you track my progress, I’ll track yours. That tiny guqin clutched in Sizhui’s hands was the first one he practised with, and that book Jingyi is now hugging to his chest probably has some significance.)“Zewu-Jun gave it to me for safekeeping. He said…” Wei Wuxian appears stunned, wearing the same stricken expression he had when Jiang Cheng found him after his secret had been revealed. “Xichen-ge told me, ‘You were never his mistake. Be good to him.’” Jiang Cheng blinks. Is that supposed to mean something to him? He shakes his head uncomprehendingly, faster and more frantically when tears start to roll down Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. What does that mean? Whose mistake? Why is he crying? When Wei Wuxian tries to clasp his shoulder, he stumbles backwards. Lan Xichen gave him Liebing, and gave Sizhui his guqin, and gave Jingyi that book…Jiang Cheng turns towards the cottage and finds Lan Wangji standing in the doorway. By now, Jiang Cheng has heard all about how he spent his childhood kneeling on that stoop, waiting for his mother to open the door with the type of patience a child shouldn’t possess. Why is he waiting now though? Why isn’t he going inside—Lan Wangji is holding Shuoyue.Suddenly Jiang Cheng cannot breathe.(Suddenly he is seventeen again, carrying two swords with him and ignoring all the looks he gets. Searching every place he can think of and finding nothing. Wei Wuxian is missing. Lost. Taken? Everyone is gone. He is all alone. He takes Suibian with him everywhere he goes—)The door cracks open and Lan Qiren steps outside. Jiang Cheng knows that he is approaching seventy years old, but he has never looked his age until now. His impeccable posture has become stooped like a storm-blown tree. When he lifts his head, his bloodshot stare sends a shiver down his spine. A thin voice rattles out of his throat. “Sect Leader Jiang, we’ve been expecting you.”Have they? Jiang Cheng wonders how long they have been waiting, and how likely it is that Lan Qiren bears a grudge against him for what happened during his last visit. Then again, if he does he certainly isn’t showing it. Jiang Cheng has his token with him at hand, not that it’s needed here.
You are always welcome in the Cloud Recesses, Jiang Wanyin.
Jiang Cheng clumsily clasps his fist in greeting, all whilst wondering what the fuck is going on here. All these strange details. Why is everyone standing around like this? So Lan Xichen collapsed. What’s the big deal? I just tripped, and then I fell. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.It’s only when he lowers his hands that he realises he’s still holding Sandu and that Zidian is pulsing violet light outwards as if it is breathing. Both are put away instantly, but for some reason, he cannot take his hand off his sword. Just touching the hilt gives him some comfort. Why would he need comfort though? Why does it feel like everyone is holding their breath?
I didn’t do anything! He just collapsed!
The Second Jade is watching him. Unreadable and unmovable as always. It makes his skin crawl to be faced with this cold figure, but for once Jiang Cheng doesn’t have any desire to fight him. He doesn’t even care that he is blocking his path. Staring at the door, several things start to make sense.Firstly, he is clearly in shock. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.Coming here like this, his mind has been chasing after him all this time. Now that he’s arrived, it’s obvious that this was no overreaction. With his thoughts struggling to keep up, it’s only now that he is beginning to realise the gravity of the situation. This thing has been building up for months and months, and now it feels ripe to burst. He doesn’t know what to expect anymore, nor how to face whatever is behind that door—Distantly he hears Lan Wangji say, “He cannot see him like this.”Of course, Jiang Cheng is drenched from flying through the storm, but… it’s like the world flips, and suddenly he feels like he's sinking. Drowning. Everything becomes muted all at once. There is a flutter of black cloth at the corner of his eye. A hand squeezes his elbow, his pulse throbs in his forehead. Wei Wuxian is saying something, but he cannot hear him. Cannot feel anything. This doesn’t make any sense. He was supposed to return here after two more weeks—What is it that he's even supposed to be doing here? He is completely frozen as things start to click into place one by one. Everyone has gathered like the darkening skies. Things are coming to a head and he’s known this for a while. Why would everyone gather like this? His eyes fall to Liebing again. I just don’t have the heart to play it anymore… So this is what he has been missing.“Jiang Cheng?”The sky groans as if in pain from each lightning strike. He keeps swinging between acceptance and denial. Between seeing and not seeing—This is not how he would write Lan Xichen’s story.
Your story deserves to be told, Jiang Wanyin.
He would never end it here.Most cultivators expect to meet their end in battle.Though his parents’ deaths remain open wounds in his heart, Jiang Cheng knows he was better equipped watching them die at seventeen than he is at dealing with this right now. This is slow and agonising. This is months of seeing the effects of a slow-acting poison. Watching Lan Xichen smile through everything, facing every obstacle with the same grace he's always possessed. Never surrendering to whatever it is that has been leading him to this point—Watching him endure this and not being able to do anything—“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian slaps him hard, nearly rattling his teeth. “Stop it! Whatever you’re thinking, just forget it! You need to go,” he says, shoving him forwards. “He wants to see you.”Jiang Cheng staggers a little. “But I… but I should have…” Wei Wuxian frowns at his husband. “Lan Zhan, we’ve talked about this. Let him through.”If they swapped places, Jiang Cheng would be just as unwilling to let him pass.He should have been taking this more seriously from the start.Every time he came here, he has been wasting his time talking with Lan Xichen when he should have been trying to help him. That was the whole point of him spending time with the man. What good were his clear Jiang eyes when he has been so ignorant? Fuck, is he really that stupid? That blind? He flew all the way here and only now does he finally get it—“Calm down,” Wei Wuxian says, pressing Sandu back into its sheath. When did he… Wei Wuxian squeezes his knuckles till his grip loosens. Jiang Cheng regards the sword as if it belonged to someone else… he shakes his head with a cold laugh. What a fool he was to think he’d rid himself of the Three Poisons. Greed. To claim he’s satisfied with friendship, but to then confess to him? Blatant hypocrisy. He should have just kept quiet. Hatred. To punish himself was fine, but to then keep Lan Xichen waiting between letters? What right did he have to give him such doubts? Delusion. To only see what he wants to see, refusing to believe that there might not even be—All this time he’s been clinging onto desperate beliefs, but now he must confront the lies he told himself. The last time Lan Xichen collapsed, was that on him? And was it his fault this time too?Was it all because of the letter he’d sent? Jiang Cheng clutches his face with trembling hands.What if it really was his letter that had done this? Was it too much? Did it upset Lan Xichen that badly? How could he have forgotten that Lan Xichen is far too polite to tell him to fuck off when he has every right to do so? He thought he was being tactful in keeping his silence, but what if all this time he was actually struggling to accept… Has Jiang Cheng been overestimating what their friendship was worth? Did it all come crashing down the moment he put this pressure on him? Should he truly have kept this to himself? The priority should always have been putting Lan Xichen's health before sharing his feelings, but he just twisted it in his head, didn’t he? He made it seem like it was the right thing to do, when in fact he just didn’t want to be weighed down with yet another secret. He’s gotten so used to sharing things with Lan Xichen that keeping this to himself felt unnatural. Since when did he become so dependent on someone else, and how could he think it was right to depend on Lan Xichen when the last thing he needs is to be dealing with someone else's problems? What type of shitty friend he is, giving him more things to worry about when he should be lightening his burdens!“This is my fault,” he says tonelessly. Lifting his chin, he forces himself to face Lan Wangji’s steady gaze. “I realise now that I have been selfish. Reputation means nothing, saving face means nothing, but… I made it so that it was. All this time I thought I was doing the right thing, when in fact I have only created more problems for everyone. Where I said I would protect him, I have hidden myself away…”Wei Wuxian, “Jiang Cheng—”Jiang Cheng shuts his eyes, swallowing thickly. “And most unforgivable of all, I have let Lan Xichen down when he needed me most.”He and Lan Wangji have never seen eye to eye. Even sharing the same air sometimes feels like a challenge, but here Jiang Cheng knows he is in the wrong. He is always in the wrong, it seems. On top of that, he is vulnerable now. At the mercy of whatever Lan Wangji decides. He could keep them apart if he chooses to. He could kick him out of the Cloud Recesses because Lan Xichen won’t be able to stop him now.Here he is saying you were right. It turns out the one who has left Lan Xichen to rot was not him but Jiang Cheng, and here he is hoping that Lan Wangji will be the better man and—
Please, just let me see him.
Jiang Cheng, “I promise to take whatever punishment you give me, but please… let that come later.”What time is left now? When he opens his eyes, it appears as though Lan Wangji is looking down at him from the top stair. Fine. Jiang Cheng really doesn’t care. He will even kneel if he has to. He just wants to make things right—the Second Jade slowly dips his head and then turns to the side. The motion catches him by surprise. Wei Wuxian gives him another shove and he stumbles forwards, almost tripping over his own feet.Jiang Cheng remembers the first time he visited the Gentian House.Back then it was only with mild curiosity that he examined the place. He hasn’t spent as much time here as in the hanshi, but it has still become familiar to him. Somewhere he can sit and write, and paint and squabble over this-and-that… a place filled with warm memories. As he walks up the steps, he finds himself lingering over every single one. They stretch all the way back to his very first time in the Cloud Recesses. His entire life he's known him, from being an unruly child held in Lan Xichen’s arms, to carrying him back here himself after walking in the snow…It hits him then, how desperately he misses Lan Xichen. How he wishes with all his heart that he had come sooner. With all the things he’s come to realise, he finds himself wounded by his own understanding of things he no longer wants to understand.
It’s not that you’re not brave, it’s that you’re cautious too.
He always meant to love him in secret, in between the shadow and the soul. Alone and safe, without any risk of discovery or loss.
I only want the best for you, Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng squeezes the jade token till his hand goes numb. Will he ever be able to come back here after this? Maybe he will keep this to remind him that waiting and hoping only lead to disappointment.
I have never thought you a coward until now, young master.
God, he can’t do this. He really can’t—Above the dull roar in his head, a muffled sound pierces through. He used to listen for it in his sleep. That one person, no matter how old he gets…Jiang Cheng turns, and sure enough, Jin Ling is scrubbing at his eyes and sniffling. The juniors glance up one by one. They’re probably wondering why he's stopped to look at them, but all he's thinking is that this is where it began for him and Lan Xichen, isn’t it?With Jin Ling’s studies being the first thing they could properly talk about. Now, they talk about everything under the sun, but for some reason, their very first conversation comes to mind.
Isn't it worrying when the children are the ones giving the adults advice? Sometimes they are remarkably good at reminding us what is important in life.
Looking at the three of them, it dawns on Jiang Cheng that they are probably even more scared than he is right now, and yet they came to get him because they… they knew he needed to come. Jiang Cheng waits until he has their undivided attention. He cannot smile for them like Lan Xichen would have done but faces each of them with sound determination.“I will handle this,” he says, sounding far more confident than he truly feels. Jingyi manages a tremulous smile, and Jin Ling gives him a jerky nod, but Sizhui—(They think of them as adults even now, Lan Xichen said to him once, frowning faintly as he tuned the strings of Sizhui’s old guqin. Even without a war hanging over everyone's heads, our children are forced to grow up far too quickly. I would protect them from having to if I could, and if they’d let me. He’d smiled a little then. But that would probably only cause them more problems later on. Jiang Cheng grunted in agreement, naturally thinking of Jin Ling and all the criticisms he was already being subjected to. He’d sighed, turning his gaze to the floor. The future lay unspooled before his mind’s eye. Jiang Cheng had swirled his tea and tried to imagine what he might have been like if death and war not forged his path. Coddling children is never a good idea, he’d finally decided. It’s always better to be prepared. Life is cruel, and the world has always been a harsh and unforgiving place. That may be true, Lan Xichen said softly, sliding across a plate of peeled fruit. His eyes twinkled, mouth curving sweetly, but that doesn’t mean we have to be the same.)Instead of Jin Ling, his eyes fall to Sizhui, whose arms are wrapped around both of his friends. Wen Ning is stroking his arm, but he seems to be a million miles away. It occurs to Jiang Cheng that Sizhui has been the one most reluctant to leave Lan Xichen at any given time, hence the very reason Lan Xichen came to the festival in the first place. (So… it turned out that Lan Sizhui was in fact, a Wen. Jiang Cheng digested that fact sluggishly, with far too much sugar pumping through his veins. Has he told you about the butterflies? Lan Xichen’s chuckle tickled its way up his spine. Of course, he grinned. How else would there have been butterflies at the wedding?)Lan Wangji steps forwards, cutting off his line of sight. With the firelight from the window bringing life to his stone-like face, Jiang Cheng wonders if he misread him earlier. His downcast eyes seem cold as ever, but his voice is soft when he speaks. “No punishment required.”That’s not what he’d been expecting. Jiang Cheng blinks. “I’m sorry?”“Apology accepted.” “…” But that’s not what he—Lan Wangji turns to the door, bringing him back to the matter at hand. He reaches across to grab the doorknob, causing Jiang Cheng’s stomach to flip. “Brother is sleeping,” he says, though not as a deterrent. “Be mindful.”Jiang Cheng nods, licking his lips. “I will, and uh… thank you.”Lan Wangji slowly pushes the door open, and a gust of heat rushes out. Jiang Cheng sucks in a deep breath. So this is it. Be brave for once, you fool, he tells himself, as if there is any choice but to follow his heart, now that it has led him here. The sound of wood scraping on stone should be drowned out by the storm, but it is in a breath between thunderclaps that he arrives. The staggered rhythm has Kong turning his head. He grunts in greeting and receives a scoff in return. Though neither of them planned this, neither seem that surprised to see the other either. Most wouldn’t look for shelter under the sparse cover of winter trees, but it’s as though the elements are a passing thought. Even as the rain pounds down, Kong tilts his face to the skies as though it were a clear, sunny day. “Okay, so looking at that,” he says, nodding towards the swirling clouds, “There is no way I’m going to accept the excuse that you idiots got lost again. As far as meeting places go, this one you’d have to be blind to miss.”Indeed, it is as though all the light in the sky vanishes at that point. Such deep darkness that one might expect there to be crows circling above and resentful energy pouring out in waves. In fact, there is nothing of the sort around for miles. Curious to others, but not to them.“Getting lost is what the others do. Don’t come whining to me about it,” Lao Li grumbles, dumping himself on a mossy rock. “So, when should we move in?”Kong drums his fingers on his arm. “Not long now. Be patient.”For a while, they simply observe the storm as it creeps over the landscape. It is rather humbling watching such destruction and knowing its reasons for being there. Humbling, but not exactly calming. Lao Li grits his teeth after another loud bang. “You know, we’ve done all we can to delay this. Whatever time they’ve had is all they’re going to get. No one can deny that he is fully eligible,” His brow creases deeply, “And that no matter what we do, his path has already been chosen.”“That’s precisely what we’re counting on. Whatever meddling the old man has done, one can never divert the path too far. Things will always return to the way they are meant to be. Sometimes the best course of action is to do nothing.”“The way…” Lao Li shakes his head, smiling crookedly. “I see what you did there.” Another crash of thunder steals away his mirth. “But what makes you so certain that things will work out?”“Hmph,” Kong scratches his chin. “Maybe because it doesn’t matter what I think?”“I suppose that’s true.”“Also, I read a poem.”“A poem?”Nodding, “About the dragonflies and lotuses—”“And what does that have to do with this?”Kong shrugs, causing the other man’s lip to curl. He spins around, twirling his cane until it blurs white. “Did you know that dragonflies spend most of their lives underwater? It’s a long period of dormancy. Of transformation, and waiting. Eventually, they rise to the surface, much like the lotus…”“I get what you’re trying to say, but even so… this is cruel.”“I’m not denying that,” Kong says. “But unfortunately this is the way the world works. For as long as we exist, life is suffering. The world is cruel.”Lao Li scowls. “Enough about your wayward travels! We are talking about a man’s life here!” Lao Li smacks his walking stick down a few times. “A good man, and—”“A good man, you say?” Kong throws his head back, eyes flashing in time with a clap of thunder. “Well then, if he is really such a good man, then he will do the right thing. In which case, my friend, we need not fear for anything!”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
This moment is all there is.
— Rumi
The Gentian House, which is usually such a bright airy place, has become a fortress of shadows. The hearth that he had thought to be burning brightly now seems far less vigorous, barely giving off enough light to see the end of his nose. It is quiet to the point that Jiang Cheng feels like breathing would be too loud. Despite holding his breath, he can still taste the cloying sweetness of incense smoke.This is not him stalling, he tells himself. This is him letting his eyes adjust, and getting his thoughts in order, and… and this is going to be fine, isn’t it? What is he so nervous about? Jiang Cheng takes one step forward, but even that one step is like crossing miles. Just like this, the edge of a bed becomes visible. Immediately he diverts his attention to the living room, eyes scanning across to the kitchen area, finally reaching the small study in the far corner. On the table he notices a collection of items that bring him to an abrupt standstill. A lamp flanked by two candles. Three cups containing water, rice, and tea[1]—Jiang Cheng quickly turns back to the rest of the room. It’s as if the walls have faded away. As if there is a void surrounding this undefined space. It occurs to Jiang Cheng that just as Jin Ling has been slowly moving out of Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen had been sincere when he began moving into his mother’s house. There are a few belongings he can recognise that were once in the hanshi. For example: Lan Xichen’s favourite cushion, which is propped up against the desk. That threadbare, faded old thing is wedged between some starched white pillows that look stiff and pristine in comparison. On the desk are his brush-stand and the green inkstone. Its gold veins gleam in the dimness, highlighting the cracks where it was broken. Something about all of this combined together is pointing his mind in a direction it doesn’t want to go. Why couldn’t Lan Xichen have stayed in the hanshi? It might be colder there, but it is also his domain.
Oh yes, about that Madam Lan? Such a shame. She really wasted her life shut away in that small house. Did you know, they say that her eldest son was the one who found her—
Unfortunately, it’s too dark to see the paintings lining the walls, but he can already picture them in his mind. These were her windows to the outside world. Jiang Cheng inspects every corner of the room until his eyes land on the crisp white edge of what appears to be an unfinished canvas.What has Lan Xichen been painting? Something this big would take a long time to complete. Jiang Cheng wonders how he’s never noticed it before, but if it was not meant to be seen then—well then he wouldn’t have looked. He’s not as shameless as Wei Wuxian, sticking his nose in other people’s business! The protective cloth cover has fallen partly off. It’s enough for him to see… oh.Oh.The first thing he thinks is: that’s not a painting, that’s a memory. His own memory, in fact.It isn’t done in the same style as most others, with the focus on distant mountains and the people as small as grains of rice. This is mostly of the water and the perspective is the view from a boat. Delicate wisps of colour echo the reflections of sun-blushed clouds above and floating above a host of blooming flowers and velvet green leaves is...Lotus Pier.Even from this small glimpse, he knows he is right. Though others could claim this to be any other lake in the world, Jiang Cheng knows down to his bones that—
You were right! Even now the lotuses are blooming. How beautiful.
There is an inscription in the top-right corner. One word that he traces with the tip of his finger. It doesn’t make any sense.Why would Lan Xichen paint Lotus Pier if this is the name of the painting? It would be arrogant to assume, but what if... what are the chances that this was painted for him? Would that mean he’d be allowed to look at the rest of it? The cloth is barely hiding anything anymore. With just a small tug, Jiang Cheng’s jaw drops. This is Lotus Pier as it was before… Before it was—But how does Lan Xichen even know what it looked like before it was razed to the ground? When was he there to see it?The old pier gate has been meticulously drawn to scale, the texture of the wooden deck tested out on the bottom edge. The old marketplace is not as uniform as the one they have rebuilt but teems with bustling life smeared in a patchwork of colour. Lan Xichen’s memory must be impeccable because it is as though he had reached into the depths of Jiang Cheng’s mind and brought everything that was missing back. The one thing that has survived throughout everything are the lakes themselves, which remain the focus of the whole composition. Imperishable against fire and death. On the first year the lotuses bloomed again, he spent the whole day out on a boat by himself. Out there on the water, it was as though nothing had changed at all.The feeling this painting evokes reminds him of something else though. A passage he copied out what feels like ages ago.
Beside my bed a pool of light. Is it hoarfrost on the ground? I lift my eyes and see the moon…
“I bend my head and think of home.”Home, because that is what Lan Xichen has named this unfinished painting. This window to the past.“That was actually meant for your birthday.”His birthday?Jiang Cheng shuts his eyes. So this really was painted for him. He cannot even begin to fathom why Lan Xichen would make such a thing, nor how despite him striking deep at the root of this old pain, somehow he isn’t upset by it. Maybe that’s because well, who is Lan Xichen, if not the one who seems to have made it his personal mission to uncover each forgotten part of himself? Even as he is reminded of his perpetual homesickness, he finds himself comforted by the fact that Lan Xichen knows him so well. He has recognised that for Jiang Cheng, home is the waters of Yunmeng. The lotuses, which have survived against all the odds. The verdant lakes, where there is no clear distinction between the firmament of the sky and the earth…For him, that is home. (Or at least, it was.)Jiang Cheng braces himself before turning towards the bed. He has been avoiding this, but now he has run out of excuses.Lan Xichen is propped up on some of those stiff pillows, his face tilted towards the fire. For all the times he’s been referred to as the First Jade, never has that epithet fit him so well. He is truly first in every sense of the word. Perfect features carved in luminous white jade. Priceless and peerless in beauty.But in that regard, his skin is devoid of colour, and the light also manages to emphasise the hollowness of his cheeks.All of Lan Xichen’s gentleness has been sharpened, burnished with gold, and polished beyond recognition. Jiang Cheng wonders if he touched him, would he actually be as cold and hard as stone?The longer he looks, the more he wonders if he is staring at a statue or a man. At this distance, it’s difficult to tell if his chest is moving. Was it a trick of the imagination, or did he actually hear Lan Xichen speak? Without meaning to, Jiang Cheng finds himself drifting closer. Though he tries to keep his footsteps light, Lan Xichen’s eyes flutter open. He was—he is awake. Slowly but surely, Jiang Cheng watches as this statue comes to life. The transformation is rather painful to watch. Lan Xichen’s fingers twitch and spasm yet his arms remain stiffly by his sides. Bloodless lips slant upwards, but it would be a stretch to call that a smile. Standing there, he is suddenly conscious of the fact that there is more than just this distance between them.It changes everything, knowing what there is that remains unsaid. Not in the way of making him afraid to notice every little detail, but in the intangible sense of recognising that every action he makes now carries a certain weight. How could he have ever thought that things could stay the same? Lan Xichen might be the most accommodating person he’s ever met, but in the end, he is still just a person.How fucking awkward, and exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid. “Your brother said you were sleeping.” Be mindful, is what he also said, but Jiang Cheng has half a mind to break something. He wants to feel something shatter in his hands. He wants to run the fuck back home. He wants to— The ice inside him thaws when Lan Xichen lets out a small chuckle. Even his voice sounds unfamiliar. Like dried leaves rustling in the breeze. “Jiang Cheng,” he says. “You came.” Of course he came. Jiang Cheng scowls. “I was told you had collapsed.” For some reason, this needs to be said. Even though he definitely doesn’t need to, absurdly he still feels the need to confirm this to be true. When he left Lotus Pier, he never expected things would be this bad. Then when he found everyone standing outside his heart nearly stopped. Naturally, he had expected the worst. He entered the cottage expecting there to be nothing left. In this room, he thought he’d find the end to all his letters. It dawns on him that he was an idiot to think that two extra weeks would allow him to prepare any better for this.Because whilst there is still life to be found in Lan Xichen, it is as weak as a dying ember. Now the worry is more that the closer he dares to venture, the more he risks snuffing out that flame. He has never blamed Lan Xichen for any of this, but seeing the full extent of Lan Xichen’s suffering, he really wishes there was someone he could hold responsible. That person would not survive his punishment, that’s for sure. “What happened.” There is no inflection in his voice. Does it even matter what happened? When Lan Xichen merely looks at him unable to say anything, another memory surges to the fore. Standing in a tree and gazing down at that same upturned face. He’d been so nervous waiting on his opinion, and yet he couldn’t even understand why it mattered so much to him. Well? he’d snapped when Lan Xichen only continued to stare. Say something! Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know what happens next.The movement comes without any thought—he lashes out. Something goes flying into the opposite wall and shatters upon impact. A chair. He can sense Lan Wangji’s presence looming by the door, his spiritual energy flaring up as he strides back and forth like a caged tiger. Jiang Cheng bites his tongue until he tastes blood. Fucking hell. Why is it always the same foot?!His hands curl into fists. Even with pain shooting up and down his leg, the urge to break more things hasn’t gone away. Somehow he must resist. After all, this isn’t his home to destroy.To his credit, Lan Xichen doesn’t seem fazed at all by his outburst. (You’re allowed to be angry, he said once after watching him use Zidian, and then his bare fists, to thrash a tree to splinters. Instead of being his usual pleasant self, Lan Xichen's countenance appeared unusually solemn. Given that situation, I would have been angry too. Another rumination had awoken a long-forgotten pain and left Jiang Cheng too raw to function. He remembers glowering at the smoking tree stump and then turning to Lan Xichen in disbelief. Allowed to be angry? No one has ever said such a thing to him.But when I get angry I break things. People get hurt. That is the vital difference about him compared to most. He is violent and ill-tempered. Even Jin Ling knows to steer clear of him when he’s in this sort of state. It’s unacceptable. I become a threat to everyone. Then what are you supposed to do? Hold onto your anger forever? How is that acceptable? Lan Xichen took his quivering hands and flipped them over a few times, murmuring to himself as he inspected them for damage. Bruises littered his skin, swollen and bloody around the knuckles. Well, it seems you are right on all accounts of damage. He’d laughed when Jiang Cheng yanked his hand free, but in spite of this, he found himself smiling too.)Sometimes Jiang Cheng wonders what it will take for Lan Xichen to understand that he’s wasting his time. Unlearning bad habits is one thing, but they’re reaching the point where what’s left is just… him. Stubborn, harsh, and overall unpleasant. At what point will Lan Xichen look at Jiang Cheng and realise that whilst his core may be golden, his heart most certainly isn’t?“We agreed on a month,” he says, biting off every word. “A month. Not two weeks.” Lan Xichen presses his lips together. Jiang Cheng has no right to be so upset, but rationality is not within his bounds right now, and his pride has him on a leash. Did you know that I dropped everything to come here? That I would have come sooner if had known? “Two weeks,” he repeats dully, wiping a hand over his trembling mouth. “Is that how it works? If half is all we get, should I have said two months then?”What he’s saying makes no sense, but nothing makes sense to him anymore. Bargaining like this, and for what? Lan Xichen is just as much a victim here, but he wants answers. Where did the time go? How much of it has he wasted? It’s not fair to ask Lan Xichen this, as if it was by his choice that he should rise and fall. Truthfully, what does it matter how long they’ve been apart?All Jiang Cheng knows is that it matters to him.“What should we have agreed on?” he presses. Here, he laughs to hide the fact that his hands are shaking. “I don’t even know what to think anymore. Was a month too long or not long enough?” Jiang Cheng feels like a tree struck by lightning. Like he is burning from the inside out, and with each second he is crumbling apart. “Lan Xichen, are you not going to say anything?”(But what is there to say? Sorry isn’t enough, and it isn’t needed here. There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing to be sorry for either. We’ve done nothing wrong. And they haven’t… have they?)“Do I not even deserve your acknowledgement?”“You deserve much more than that.”The rustle of cloth tempts him to look, but Jiang Cheng keeps his gaze fixed to the floor. Distantly he is aware of his nails cutting into skin and blood pooling in his palms. “You told me that you were doing fine,” he says, “And the fool that I am, I believed you.”“But with you, I did feel better.”What is he supposed to say to that? “Is that so? Are you saying then that I should have stayed?”Because the thing is, he would have. Had he known this, he would have stayed. Without his reputation on the line, he would have never left him alone. Leaving was to protect himself and his sect, and Lan Xichen encouraged him to leave because he understood that their options were limited, and their duties came first.
You know that if I could, I would do more.
I know.
“What should I have done?” There is no right answer for this, or at least none they have found. “Exactly how long should I have stayed away? Would it have made any difference at all?” Jiang Cheng swallows, spinning away and glaring even more fiercely empty space. It figures that even in the throes of whatever breakdown this is he still has room to be angry. Guilt and disgust, all aimed towards himself. “I can’t understand it. When I left you weren’t like this.”“I know,” Lan Xichen says. “I was there.” (You know, often what we think is anger, is actually other emotions in disguise. He was treating Jiang Cheng’s hands when he said this, rubbing ointment into his knuckles. Jiang Cheng already knew this, so he merely shrugged. Anger was the mask most of his emotions hid behind, though these days he was starting to recognise what lay beneath. Most things still got muddled though. Grief presented itself much the same as fear. But I feel angry all the time, he’d confessed. The sting of ointment cut clean through everything. It was familiar to him. A comfort.Lan Xichen was quiet when wrapping his wounds. Whilst tying the bandages though, he let out a little hum. So he disagreed then? Jiang Cheng waited for him to explain, but was only left even more confused by what he said. Hours later and he could still hear Lan Xichen’s voice ask, are you, though?) Jiang Cheng licks his lips. “I thought… I just thought…” When his voice cracks, he finds himself blinking rapidly. He can barely recognise himself in this state. Since when did he allow himself to become this overwhelmed? Since when was he such a stuttery, incoherent mess? When was the last time he—“Jiang Cheng, why won’t you look at me?”
Why do they not listen to you?
They are worried, perhaps even afraid of what I might say.
Now he understands what it is they fear, because he knows in his heart that he will always listen to him. Whatever Lan Xichen asks of him he will strive to give, and that is truly terrifying. He doesn’t dwell on it. When Jiang Cheng is brave enough to look, he tries to draw another deep breath and finds that he can’t. How can he be smiling even now? How can he act like nothing's wrong? Is he not afraid?“Feeling better doesn’t mean that you are better.”“Sometimes all we are is how we feel.”“But you kept writing back.”Lan Xichen shrugs. “So did you.”“You really have a response for everything, don’t you?” Jiang Cheng tilts his head back, sighing audibly. “No one ever says about how stubborn Zewu-Jun is. Instead, he’s always such a gentleman.”It’s truly amazing how even in this situation Lan Xichen can still laugh.Jiang Cheng is rather taken by the sight of his hair that is like fresh ink splattered across the sheets. Lan Xichen shuffles sideways, and whilst this is without any perceivable strain, his joints creak and the sound comes rattling out of his mouth. If his voice was like dry leaves before, this is like branches scraping the roof. With the rain and wind howling against the glass, it’s as though Lan Xichen has become part of the storm. When his laughter cannot even hold out for a full minute though, Jiang Cheng finds himself thinking about one time when they could scarcely breathe after laughing themselves hoarse. It was incidentally right after he destroyed that tree. Lan Xichen pointed out it was the same tree that had broken his foot months ago, and just like that, they couldn’t stop laughing until they were wheezing.Now Lan Xichen’s laughter is soft and reedy. More strained air than actual sound. Jiang Cheng listens to his lungs rattle in horror. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, and then staggers forwards when Lan Xichen starts gasping for breath. “Lan Xichen?” His lungs, he thinks again as his own start collapsing in on themselves. “Breathe! Come on!”After coughing himself nearly sick, Lan Xichen rasps out, “Sorry.”“Sorry?” Jiang Cheng’s breath hitches when Lan Xichen slumps back on his pillows. Another step and he stops in his tracks. Does he dare to touch him? “What are you sorry for? Don’t be ridiculous.”“Jiang Cheng, would you believe me if I told you… the reason I collapsed?”“Go on then,” he says with faux calm, taking another step forwards. Lan Xichen’s breathing is irregular, his face shiny with sweat. Jiang Cheng glances at the door. Should he call for the physician? “Let’s see if I believe you.”Lan Xichen cracks a smile. “I tripped.”This is the moment where he should have laughed.Instead, he finds Lan Xichen’s face blurring out of focus.Tripped? Did he have to say tripped? What shitty sense of humour is this? Distantly, the sound of his knees smacking into the floor registers, but not any pain from the impact itself. Catching himself on his hands, a laugh flies out of him like a sob. How can you trip if you can’t even walk? he wants to ask. Maybe the answer is that sometimes you don’t even trip. You just fall.“Jiang Cheng?”This time he can’t even bring himself to answer. With his head bowed, his hands quickly become slick with raindrops and tears. They slip in between his fingers, more salt to the wound. Does he really have to explain himself? Lan Xichen must know what is behind this reaction. The reason which has brought him to his knees. He must know—“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen calls, forcing him to look upwards. He has moved to the other side of the bed. “Come here. Sit with me.”He was really a fool to think that Lan Xichen would be disgusted with him. Part of him wants to reject this offer of comfort. He’s not quite finished with his anger, but Lan Xichen has made room for him, and Jiang Cheng wants to… he cannot deny anymore what he wants. Hand on his legs, he manages to bring himself up. It’s then that he realises something.“I’m wet.”“I can see that.”Jiang Cheng hesitates, dripping water where he is standing. Was this why Lan Wangji said 'he cannot see him like this?'“But I’ll get you wet.”“Come here,” Lan Xichen repeats, patting the mattress beside him again.Jiang Cheng perches himself at the very edge of the mattress and sits hunched and facing away from him. To his relief, Lan Xichen doesn’t fuss about this. When a hand comes to rest on his back though, and that hand starts to move in a slow circle… the last of Jiang Cheng’s resolve shatters and everything he has been holding inside ends up spilling down his cheeks.(In his mind he’s stood in a cave. It’s warm, and somebody is holding him tight. They rock him side to side, humming under their breath. He could stay like this forever, his fears forgotten with every second spent in this sacred place.)At first, it seems like there will be no end to his tears, but then Jiang Cheng scrubs his face, swallowing till his throat is clear. Even then, his voice trembles when he completes a previous thought: “I just thought we had more time.”Jiang Cheng is dimly aware that in the aftermath, others may sift through his ashes and declare that nothing remains. To him though, the ashes will come to represent everything. All that he failed to protect. All his hopeless dreams scattered to the wind.Lan Xichen’s hand has slowed its pace. Once again, it is with a heavy heart that Jiang Cheng turns around. The blankets have fallen down his shoulders, revealing more of him. More jade white skin. The sharp jut of his cheekbones. Leaning over him, Jiang Cheng adjusts the sheets—when Lan Xichen grabs a handful of his hair. He thinks he deserves something for not even flinching.He does his best to ignore him, gritting his teeth as he tries not to think about how he can feel bones through his skin. Lan Xichen seems content to let him move about freely…Or at least, until the very last moment, when his hand curls into a loose fist. Jiang Cheng freezes, feeling the tug at his scalp. Half of his hair has already come loose. Wanyin, do you ever leave your hair down? “Jiang Cheng.” Lan Xichen’s eyes are closed. His fingers have tangled themselves almost into a knot. Jiang Cheng holds still. He cannot move in any direction. “Tell me about Lotus Pier,” he says. “Remind me.”Remind him? Of what? Clearly he knows Lotus Pier better than Jiang Cheng thought. Was it from his letters that he came to know it so well? In which case, how much more can he tell him? How many nights has he spent writing page after page, capturing the world outside as if to convince Lan Xichen it still existed? He wrote as if he could write Lan Xichen into being there by sheer force of will.Maybe his words are lacking. Jiang Cheng has tried his best, but he has nothing left to offer him. As usual, his best is simply not good enough. What he ends up saying is: “Let go of my hair.”“Tell me about the festival and the myth. Your nephews and mine. Picking lotus pods. The mountains at sunset. Winter persimmons, and walking in the snow.” He opens his eyes. “What else, Jiang Cheng?”Why does he keep saying his name? He can’t do this, Jiang Cheng thinks desperately. How is he doing this to me? Just his name and he is shaken to his very core. The most terrifying thing is that he would give it up for him. He would do it himself. Cut it out with his bare hands if it would only buy him more time. Even just for one more day, it would be worth it.Lan Xichen pulls at him weakly. “I have something to tell you.”That snaps him back to the present. Something to tell him? “Lan Xichen, let go of my hair.”“Even now you refuse to call me Xichen-ge. I’m really wondering what it will take—” “Xichen-ge.” Appeased by this, Jiang Cheng’s hair is released strand by strand. Instead of scrambling away like he wants to, he takes Lan Xichen’s hand. With all this between them it should be difficult to touch him, but at the very least what he can provide Lan Xichen with is this: his hand to hold, the warmth from his flesh, the energy from his core. If he can prove to Lan Xichen that he is someone he can depend on, maybe he can start believing it too. Lan Xichen’s hand is cold. His pulse is slow but steady for once. Using just his fingers, Jiang Cheng is careful not to stain him with his bloodied palms. He can feel Lan Xichen watching him as spiritual energy blooms at his fingertips.“Do you know why I chose to move here?” Lan Xichen asks in a hushed voice. Is this what he wanted to say? Jiang Cheng purses his lips. Shakes his head. Is he not tired of talking yet? “This was my mother’s house. This is where she lived.”“I know.”“Then you understand why I might want to be here?”It takes everything he has not to look at Sandu. With Zidian always on his finger, with the burdens of his sect always on his mind, it isn’t difficult to guess. “I understand.”“That’s not the only reason though. I have been thinking about her and my father a lot recently.” This manages to break Jiang Cheng’s concentration. Whilst Lan Xichen is good at telling stories, he never talks about his parents. “I keep wondering… well, I know he loved her, but does that really matter? What about what she wanted? Even if that love was returned, she spent the rest of her life here—”“So you wanted to understand her,” Jiang Cheng interrupts, his attention now split by this conversation, much to his annoyance. “To live in her house and know what it felt like.” Was he not doing the same thing earlier today? Just this morning he was thinking about his own mother.“I thought I knew what it would feel like, but I had no idea. We visited her every month, but visiting only gave us a small glimpse into her life. I never realised how lonely it would be.”Too much energy. Keeping the flow steady right now is as difficult as threading a needle in the dark.Jiang Cheng blinks his eyes clear to scan Lan Xichen’s spiritual pathways. No matter how much he gives him, it just doesn’t take. Here he is, pouring water into an ocean, expecting it to somehow change the tides… his ribs feel like they might crack open from how hard his heart is pounding. His scalp prickles with tension. This conversation is leading them towards something, and he dreads what that might be.All is revealed when Lan Xichen says: “Do you think that loving someone is always such a burden? In which case, would it not have been better if he had loved her in secret?”So it turns out… Jiang Cheng was wrong.Whilst Lan Xichen might not be disgusted with him, maybe he regrets that Jiang Cheng was too honest. Maybe it is as he says—that with what knowledge he has now, he cannot think about Jiang Cheng the same way as he used to, and this has become a burden to him. Despite this, Lan Xichen has been so kind to him. The same warm, welcoming person he has always been. Talking to him, comforting him, even letting him hold his—His hand. Jiang Cheng hisses and wipes at it with his sleeve but it’s too late. It’s smeared all over. Stained dark red. Fuck it all. Why is it that he cannot seem to do anything right?There is blood on Lan Xichen, and suddenly he wants to throw up.“Forget it,” Lan Xichen says softly. “Forget what I said.”Jiang Cheng stares. What the… why would Lan Xichen say that? How exactly is he supposed to forget that? What does that even mean?Before he can even open his mouth Lan Xichen takes his hand back, causing Jiang Cheng’s stomach to sink. Maybe that is for the best. The words keep repeating in his mind. Do you think that love is always such a burden? Jiang Cheng knows he should apologise, but he doesn’t know how to. This is the same problem he was facing with Wei Wuxian, only instead of the past being the problem, here the problem is—Well, it’s him. Which really means that the best thing would be for him to leave.Standing up, it’s as if the ground has gone from beneath his feet. If it’s there, he cannot feel it. Cannot hear anything past the ringing in his ears. He finds himself wishing he could disappear, but there is something keeping him there. A burden. An immovable weight.“You should rest,” he forces himself to say. “And I should—”“I hope to never become a burden to anybody.”Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut, cursing himself. Has he not said it enough already? How weak is he for this man, that he would stay to hear more? The whisper of something moving behind him also has him hesitating. There’s no point pretending anymore, is there? "You could never be a burden,” he says quietly as if he is speaking to himself. When he turns around, his heart climbs to his throat. “What are you doing?”All this time he never noticed, but Lan Xichen’s forehead is bare, and in his hand is the ribbon. Lan Xichen has folded it up so it’s no larger than a walnut. After a moment, Lan Xichen holds it out to him. “It would be unfair to commit myself to anyone, given my current state. If you could accept this though, I would be…”He doesn’t hear the rest of what he says.Accept this? How can he accept this?Without any warning, Wei Wuxian’s voice fills his head. You know, I’ve never thanked you for keeping my things. The others outside were holding… things. The miniature guqin, the book, Shuoyue, Liebing. There are probably more belongings that he has given away. Items that Lan Xichen has entrusted to others for safekeeping.But this is different. Completely different. Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand it. Lan Xichen read his letter. His poem. He wrote back without acknowledging them. Sometime during this, he began making the painting. Just now he talked about burdens and then asked him to forget all about them. What exactly does Lan Xichen mean by all of this? Saying one thing and then saying another. The only thing he knows for certain is—“Jiang Cheng?”“I can’t.” If there is one thing he knows, it’s that this isn’t meant for him. (One cannot allow just anyone to touch it. That is reserved for… that is only for…) Something this important shouldn’t be given away as a keepsake. “Save it,” he says. “Give it when you are—”“Give it? Give it to whom?” Two fat tears roll down Lan Xichen’s cheeks, dripping over his smiling lips. “Save it for when?”This is not… he’s not ready to talk about this. He doesn’t think he ever will be. Lan Xichen’s arm droops, his expression becoming strained the longer he struggles to hold it up. Jiang Cheng hurries over to steady Lan Xichen’s elbow but is very, very careful not to touch anything else. “You’re really…” Lan Xichen bites his lip and then chuckles out of nowhere. “You know, I’ve never had a friend like you either. In fact, I’ve never known anyone like you before.” A friend. Jiang Cheng’s heart flutters. “Oh?”Lan Xichen’s face lights up. He smiles and laughs like nothing is wrong. Like they have all the time in the world. For all his years on this earth, there is not one single line anywhere on his face. “It’s alright,” he says. Jiang Cheng takes the ribbon with trembling hands.In the end, it’s just a ribbon. Something he has seen countless times before. He stares at the cloud motif until blue blurs into white, the engraved metal biting into his skin—“You’re leaving?”“I am.” He has to. The others will want their time with him.“Can you stay for a little longer?”“Stay?”“Mm, not for long. Just until I fall asleep.”Perhaps in another life, he could have refused him. He could have torn out his hair and screamed himself hoarse, and left him without a backwards glance. But not in this one. No, not this one.Jiang Cheng goes back to where he was sitting before. Without thinking he takes Lan Xichen’s hand. Holds it without allowing his tears to fall upon it. Pouring energy into withered pathways, letting the thrum of his pulse soothe him in return. This reminds him of long nights many years ago. Walking baby Jin Ling up and down the corridor. Holding him, rocking him, begging him to sleep. Sometimes there was only one thing that would work.Lan Xichen immediately opens his eyes. “This is…”Of course he knows it. This came from him. The song in his heart. Jiang Cheng pauses when he realises Lan Xichen is staring at him. Jin Ling did the same thing, which used to annoy him so much. Sleep, A-Ling! I have things to do! Reminded of this, he cannot help but be amused.“Close your eyes,” he says, and after a moment, Lan Xichen does.They say that the Gusu Lan hear the music of the world better than anyone else. That even the silence speaks to them.All he knows is that this song, this melody that he can never forget, does indeed remind him of the mountains at sunset. Sleep he sings into this song without words. With this song which lacks an ending, he bids him dream of one instead. Dream, he thinks, of everything. Of the world beyond their reach. Of everlasting summer, and rivers that weave together like lullabies. Of songs that echo for miles, as old as the mountains themselves… he doesn’t stop when he pulls away, disentangling Lan Xichen’s hand from his, and laying it over his chest. (Your name, is it true? Lan Xichen asked as they were walking around the pond. What a strange thing to say. Jiang Cheng could only frown as he mumbled to himself, Wanyin, Wan-yin, like a moron. He didn’t even need to look to know he was grinning. Wanyin, do you sing into the night?) There is something he’s leaving to Lan Xichen as well. Something that he has left tucked safely in his palm, resting over his heart.Something that… after a moment’s hesitation, allows him to press his lips to his uncovered forehead and whisper, “Thank you.” Jiang Cheng isn’t surprised to find that the crowd outside has lessened. Most notably the elders have already left[2], but the juniors have also mostly retired to their rooms. Up ahead he notices that only one elder who has decided to stay—Lan Qiren, who sits atop the crumbling remains of Qingheng-Jun’s cottage, facing away from everyone.In the end, it didn’t take Lan Xichen long to fall asleep at all. Even so, Jiang Cheng stayed and sang till his throat could take no more. Then he sat in silence. The sun had already set by the time he left, though it was impossible to tell through the cloud-ridden skies that not even the storm’s gale-force winds could clear away. Everything feels... heavy. For the longest time, he just sat there. Thinking. Waiting. Each time he attempted meditation, he kept stopping to check on the man beside him. Lan Xichen was really distracting. How anyone could ignore him when he was literally right there was unfathomable. Though he obviously knew that Lan Xichen was attractive, he was never in the habit of paying attention to such things. He couldn’t deny though that from his elegant hands to his long lashes, to his glossy hair, and everything else... his position as top-ranked young master of the cultivation world was well-deserved. Beautiful beyond compare, yet all Jiang Cheng could see was grey skin, bruised eyes, cracked lips, and… the ember inside him glinting faintly at his core.Outside the storm howled, inside the fireplace crackled. Everything else was quiet, making it easy to believe that the world consisted of only them.
Forget it.
Forget what I said.
How could Lan Xichen (who was neither selfish nor unreasonable) say such a thing? How was he supposed to forget anything when there was a ribbon tucked in his sleeve, and a bell missing from his hip? Whilst staring at the strip of skin just above Lan Xichen’s brow, he ran through their conversation, again and again, trying to understand what any of it meant.
I’ve never known anyone like you.
It’s alright.
What part of this is alright?Jiang Cheng makes his way over to Lan Wangji in a daze, part of him convinced that half of him is still lying in that bed. “He’s sleeping,” he tells the man, who says nothing in return. Next to him, Wei Wuxian gives him a wobbly smile that he immediately hates.Wei Wuxian ends up trailing him to the edge of the clearing. When they reach a suitable distance, Jiang Cheng turns and slumps heavily against a tree. Wei Wuxian leaps up onto an overhanging branch, the motion drawing his eye to something swinging from his belt—He swats the silver bell away from his face, the buzz of energy tickling his skin. Looking back, he sees Lan Wangji slowly heading towards the cottage. It’s understood that none of them will be leaving Lan Xichen alone, but seeing the Second Jade pretty much dragging his feet like this is strange. Even stranger is seeing him without his husband attached to his hip.A clod of moss flies past his face, Wei Wuxian’s legs kicking idly. It’s not like Wei Wuxian cannot read the mood. It’s just that as always, he chooses to ignore it. Jiang Cheng would scold him under any other circumstances, but now he’s… he simply doesn’t care enough to bother.Wei Wuxian, “Jingyi tells me that when you came there was trouble.”Jiang Cheng, “It’s being handled.”“That’s what he said.” Wei Wuxian hums. “And about Xichen-ge. How did that go?”
Even now you refuse to call me Xichen-ge. I’m really wondering what it will t—
Instead of answering, Jiang Cheng turns and walks away. He spares a moment to check where Jin Ling is. How typical. He’s sandwiched between the two Lan boys with that Ouyang Zizhen also huddled with them too. He catches Wen Ning’s eye briefly, earning a stiff nod from him. Every step brings back memories.Going through life he has always walked alone, but in these memories, he isn’t. They almost feel like home to him now. A home that lives inside his heart, so that whenever his mind wanders, it can always find its way back to… he stops in his tracks. Before this, he could always return to these memories to comfort himself, but now—After this, how will he look back on everything without reliving this loss? It’s as if an icy hand has gripped his heart. No, he thinks, please don’t let this be another Lotus Pier. He cannot survive such a loss again.“Jiang Cheng, are you—”“Why are you following me? For fuck’s sake, will you just… leave me alone! Why can’t you ever listen? I asked you nicely before. Now, get lost!”It’s no surprise that he doesn’t listen to him this time either. Wei Wuxian climbs another tree and settles himself on another branch above Jiang Cheng. Sticky as a lizard. Stubborn asshole. Selfish bastard. Jiang Cheng punches the tree hard enough to shake it. Try as he might, he always returns to anger. It is another thing that is guaranteed to never give him any peace.It’s a terrible thought to have, but sometimes he almost wishes he hadn’t fallen in love, but in truth, even with friendship he's struggling. What would life be like without him? Jiang Cheng clenches his fist like he wants to hit someone. Like he wants to hit himself. The cuts in his hand reopen. Try as I might, I just can’t imagine it. It’s simply impossible. Looking at Wei Wuxian, he suddenly feels utterly helpless. “Why?” he asks him. “Wei Wuxian, just… tell me why?”Wei Wuxian’s eyes pass over him before he says, “I cannot tell you why. Why or how isn’t even important. You came, and you’re here now. That’s what matters.”Jiang Cheng shakes his head, burying his face into his palms. A moment later, he bursts out with a laugh. In a muffled voice, “Is that right?”Even if he had the option not to come, he would have come. Wei Wuxian is right. Who cares why or how, or what will happen to him afterwards. It seems that if there is one thing that fate has decided, it’s that he’ll always survive, whether he wants to or not.“Will you leave?” Wei Wuxian asks. “After?”Jiang Cheng can see it clearly now. “No.”Neither of them senses it coming.A white-hot blast.Jiang Cheng throws up his hands to shield his face. A beam of pure white light. It looks like a sword piercing down from the heavens and splitting apart storm-clouds. Wind whips around, snapping trees like twigs. Wei Wuxian tumbles off his branch—Landing right on top of him. Squashing him flat.He cannot breathe. Cannot see. The light, the wind. Wei Wuxian is screaming in his ear. Further away there is more screaming. Jiang Cheng shoves his brother aside, clawing the ground blindly. Light comes pouring out from the Gentian House.
Lan Xichen.
Jiang Cheng staggers forwards. Against the wind, pushing with all his weight. Zidian snaps out, catching on whatever it can. Trees that are uprooted. Boulders that roll away. Lan Wangji is just ahead of him. He had been about to open the door when it flew apart. There is blood on his face, but he continues crawling towards the light.Jiang Cheng knows he is shouting. Screaming the same thing over and over. Lan Xichen! Lan Xichen! A crack of thunder ripples through him. Rain stings his eyes, but he blindly draws Sandu and leaps up—gets knocked down immediately. Tries again, but the winds are too strong. He has no energy left either. Lan Wangji throws out some seals. They glint once and then are extinguished. More and more, to no effect. Jiang Cheng comes within range. He summons Zidian and then—It’s gone.The air is suddenly still and silent.The light has vanished as quickly as it came.He can feel his heartbeat pounding his skull. Breath pumping through his veins. Blood leaking from his eyes. It’s hard to tell which way is up with heaven and earth turned upside down—“-an Xi…Xichen,” he gasps, finally audible. His ears are buzzing. Everything is blurry. Dark spots floating. “L-Lan Xichen!”“What the fuck?” Wei Wuxian stumbles into the clearing. He catches himself on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, knocking him back to the floor. “What… what was that?!”Jiang Cheng stares blankly ahead. “He… it…”“WHAT?” Jingyi has Sizhui by the collar and is shaking him. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU. WHAT DID YOU SAY?”“Zewu-Jun,” Sizhui says, and then, “Uncle,” over and over, hanging limply from the other’s hands. Jiang Cheng lurches to his feet. The ground feels like it is sloping. Bile rises to his throat. The windows have been blasted out, the door blown open. Even the roof is missing in some places. There are papers scattered everywhere. He picks up the nearest one and freezes.
[Lan Xichen,
To put it plainly, today was awful. The type of excuses my disciples will come up with… I truly despair. If you saw them, so would you. Broken legs will not fix this. Let it be a lesson to them that there are things far worse than—]
These are his letters. He wrote these. He needs to go inside. He needs to see him.Jiang Cheng blinks dots out of his vision, swallowing repeatedly. Heavy. Everything is so heavy. Lan Qiren emerges from the side, also hobbling in the same direction. There is a clean scent hanging in the air. Like ice or snow. Also the smell of burning.The moment he steps foot into the Gentian House, he spins around and starts retching.In truth, he’s seen more gory scenes than this. Battlefields soaked in blood. Lotus Pier strewn with the corpses of his family and friends.There is nothing left.And somehow this is worse.Nothing left. The bed is empty. He is gone. Disappeared. Just like that. Jiang Cheng spits until all he can taste is bitterness. Salt, and blood where he’s bitten himself. First come the juniors, then Lan Qiren. The older man looks moments away from fainting. Jiang Cheng sways on his feet. Jin Ling rushes over, hands fluttering over him. “Uncle, is he…”Jingyi looks around with wide eyes. “DID… DID ZEWU-JUN JUST EXPLODE?!!”“You’re too loud,” Sizhui groans, slapping a hand over his mouth. His face switches between green and white as he also fights back a wave of nausea.They enter the cottage one by one. Everything is in disarray, but nothing is broken. The letters though… Jiang Cheng never realised he wrote so many. They cover the floor completely like autumn leaves. He cannot help himself glancing at the bed. He was sitting just there, not a moment ago. That bed where Lan Xichen—But he was sleeping.When he left him he was fine. He was right there.“Lan Zhan, don’t!”Suddenly there is a sword at his throat. Bichen gleams under his chin, the point is aimed at his throat. Jin Ling has drawn Suihua, and Wei Wuxian has also leapt between them. Both swords are crossed in the middle. Jiang Cheng doesn’t move a muscle. Most people would be panicking in this position but he isn’t scared at all. Cold metal on his skin. Oddly soothing. Adrenaline kicks nausea to the curb. Everything sharpens into focus. He raises a hand to push Bichen aside, but this motion triggers swift action.The cut is clean. It barely stings. He lowers his hand.That was only a warning.“It wasn’t me,” Jiang Cheng says. “I didn’t do anything.”The slightest pressure. More blood. Lan Wangji is pissed. Jiang Cheng searches his eyes though. Thin golden rings, pupils dilated. So, he is frightened too? Well, now Jiang Cheng is worried. It’s far more difficult to predict what a person will do when they’re afraid.“Hanguang-Jun, please lower your sword,” Jin Ling says, his blade and voice perfectly steady. It is not the time for it, but Jiang Cheng feels a surge of pride at this. In other situations, he would be able to defend himself. He has always been able to work well under pressure. Right now though any movement would be too risky. Lan Wangji blinks blood out of his eyes, his lips quivering as he tries to form words. This is—“You trust him. You know you do,” Wei Wuxian reminds his husband. “You know the type of person he is. Why are you changing your mind now? You know he is telling the truth.” Jiang Cheng can only stare. Is Wei Wuxian defending him? And against his own husband too?!When Wei Wuxian reaches out, Lan Wangji lets out a shuddering sigh and drops Bichen into his hands. The man rocks backwards. His shoulders slump, face sagging as well. Sizhui comes to catch him moments before his legs buckle beneath him. Lan Wangji chokes out, “What happened?”“Lan Zhan, let me handle this,” Wei Wuxian says, gently patting his arm. Then he turns to the juniors, his expression grim. “You four were closest to the blast. Did you see anything?”“Of course we did, but how can anyone know what actually happened just from seeing something like that?” Jin Ling asks, returning Suihua to its sheath. “Ouyang-xiong, you were the one with the best view. What did you see?”“I… it was as if...” Ouyang Zizhen stammers, “The heavens opened up and—and struck down with deadly force!!”Jin Ling, “…is that so.”“It was like a bolt of lightning, only the beam shot upwards!!” he continues. “There was a massive surge of spiritual energy! As the light connected with the clouds, it sliced them open, splitting apart the sky! Then it was swallowed up by the storm—”Wei Wuxian, “Shot upwards, you say?”Sizhui explains, “Ouyang-xiong, at first you said the light struck down with deadly force.”Ouyang Zizhen frowns. “No, there was a sound first. Like metal scraping across stone. That’s what struck downwards… I think? The vibrations threw us back with each shockwave. Luckily I managed to cover my ears just in time. It was pulsing. Then there was this blast of hot air…”“Oh!” Jingyi exclaims, tugging at his earlobe. “Oh, repeat what you said again! You say it went upwards?”Jin Ling clenches his teeth. “Yes, Jingyi. We’ve established that already. The light went upwards—”“Did you hear that?” Jingyi swerves around, slapping Sizhui on the arm excitedly. The poor boy endures this battering with a long-suffering sigh. “Did you hear that?! What did he say? I dare you to say I’m not making sense now!”Jiang Cheng purses his lips, wiping his neck clean of blood. In his opinion, the boy is far too excited. The fact that he and that Ouyang Zizhen are both grinning is pissing him off. This is not a situation where one should be happy! The air still feels far too thin, but pushing through his dizziness he says coldly, “You two, explain yourselves!”"Thank you for asking, Senior Jiang!” Jingyi bobs on his toes. “An explanation might take some time, but I am so very glad you asked! Everyone, please stay here whilst we go fetch our research! We won’t be long!”Research? Jiang Cheng vaguely recalls flicking through an incomprehensible mess of scribbled notes, the ideas coming from seemingly every possible direction. All he gleaned from it was that the person who wrote it must be utterly deranged. Now that he knows it was Jingyi’s work (or probably directed by this brat) he isn’t surprised by this at all.It takes great effort to not look to the bed and turn his attention towards… towards what, exactly? What else is there to look at? Wei Wuxian is tending to an unresponsive Lan Wangji on one side of the room, and on the other Lan Qiren is… oh. Should he—what should he do here? Whilst they respect one another, they are not in the habit of interacting beyond business. They share no personal ties, nor anything in common except for… Hm. The bed bids him look. Reluctantly, he looks. Lan Xichen's smile is scorched into his mind. If he were here, he definitely wouldn’t ignore this. He would head straight over and offer some comfort. Out of nowhere, it occurs to Jiang Cheng that… this is Lan Xichen's uncle. (Jiùjiu! How many times has Jin Ling called for him? Since he first could talk. Is… is shūshu alright? Sizhui hadn’t been able to maintain eye-contact asking this whilst Jingyi gleefully winked at him over his shoulder—)“Teacher.” His tone is gruff as always, but the older man doesn’t seem to notice. The fact they have come to disagreements over Lan Xichen’s care causes Jiang Cheng to hesitate. What comfort can he offer him? If it were him, condolences would only serve to amplify his grief. Jiang Cheng refuses to say the words I’m sorry for your loss in this context. Something inside tells him this isn’t over yet.But even offering hope can be cruel sometimes. Jiang Cheng knows how it can be. With this in mind, he finds there is nothing he can actually say. When Lan Qiren wipes his eyes and sniffs wetly, he reaches into his sleeve—wrong sleeve. Oh god! He almost pulls out the ribbon! No, no, quickly he rummages for a handkerchief, and when he gets his hands on one, he practically throws it in the other’s face!After mumbling his thanks, Lan Qiren lets out a shaky breath. “I cannot understand… what else could we have done?”Jiang Cheng grunts. They did try chasing down every possibility, and he doesn’t doubt the Lans tried every treatment option for Lan Xichen. He knows that mentioning that bitter tea would not be wise, and so holds his silence.Those kids though… if they really have an answer for this, he’ll be forever in their debt. He won’t be surprised if all of Lan Qiren’s hair falls out. What are the chances that they really know what is happening?Because the scariest thing, and the thing he dreads the most, is not knowing what has happened to Lan Xichen or where he has gone. He must be somewhere. He can't have disappeared into thin air. That is impossible. He was there.Right there.Glancing again at the bed, Jiang Cheng repeats to himself, there can’t be nothing. “So.”The books are spread out everywhere, notes strewn around in a chaotic array.Honestly, the horrid sight makes him want to flip the damn table. Of the four, only Jingyi seems to know one end from the other. If Jiang Cheng is being critical (which he always is), seeing this doesn’t inspire much (if any) confidence in their findings. Seeing Ouyang Zizhen looking equally as confused at some of the presented information, all his doubts instantly multiply tenfold.“There is a lot that we have found,” Jingyi starts by saying, “But initially we started by looking at medical books and cultivation texts. After it was concluded that Zewu-Jun was not actually suffering from qi deviation, we tried looking at it from other angles, but what else could cause such symptoms as this? Senior Wei’s notes implied that it may be to do with his core—”“His core?” Ouyang repeats. (Was he not present for this research then? Was this before the school year started?) “In what way does it involve his core? Has it been corrupted? Cursed?”Jiang Cheng ponders this, remembering Ouyang’s description. Something striking down with a deadly force. Light surging upwards. Almost as if something was taken. Stolen. Again his skin itches, something inside him twisting painfully. Lan Xichen, where are you? Ignoring Ouyang’s interruption, Jingyi continues: “Senior Wei has also suggested the cause of this is natural.” Jingyi leans forwards, spreading out his hands. “So, what if it is? What if the natural route of Zewu-Jun’s cultivation was what brought him to this point? What if what we thought was something attacking his core was, in fact, his body preparing itself for his next stage of life?”“Don’t bother asking how he got to thinking in this direction,” Jin Ling drawls, rolling his eyes. “That would require far too many diagrams. He started by thinking what the reverse of qi deviation would be and went on from there.”Jingyi bats him aside. “No medicines have been able to stop its progression. No treatments have worked. No culprits have been found. If it is such a powerful thing that has taken command of his life, who’s to say it was not always meant to happen?”“Are you suggesting this is Zewu-Jun’s fate?” Ouyang asks.“The reverse of qi deviation? How interesting,” Wei Wuxian’s eyes sparkle as the cogs in his mind start spinning wildly. “If Qi deviation is improper cultivation, then the reverse would be successful cultivation, which would result in—”“Pshoo!” Jingyi jumps up, enthusiastically flapping his arms up and down. He scowls when he only receives blank, unimpressed silence for this. “Really? What we saw just now—the light! What do you think that was??”Wei Wuxian smiles thinly, seeming rather amused. “You think he ascended.[3]”“Is it not possible he did?” Jingyi carefully avoids looking in either Lan Wangji or Lan Qiren’s direction as he says this. The latter lets out a scoff, provoking the boy into puffing out his cheeks. “If you think about it, what is the end-point of cultivation? What are we all cultivating towards?”Ouyang’s eyes widen. (Really? Did he really not take part in this research at all, or was he simply not paying attention?) “I… Immortality!” Jiang Cheng tenses at this. His mind supplied that answer too. Naturally, immortality is the end-point of cultivation, but then that would imply…Jingyi beams. “Correct! So you see, my theory is that—”“Immortality doesn’t work like that though,” Sizhui cuts in, halting Jingyi with a swift look. “All that we have read is that immortality is achieved through the accumulation of cultivated energy and adherence to the dao. There are many requirements that I am not certain Zewu-Jun has achieved despite his high level of cultivation, meaning he simply would not be eligible for it.”Jingyi jumps up. “Then how do you explain the light from before. Ascending! Into! The!! Sky?!!”“That might be unrelated. Even this theory of immortality doesn’t fit. There are no writings that support any of what we have seen of Uncle’s symptoms.” Sizhui doesn’t seem to realise his slip, fully focused on arguing his case. It sounds like he’s repeated this many times. “The body doesn’t deteriorate but is preserved and improved upon, and made more invulnerable not less."Most importantly, the body. Doesn’t. Vanish. Without. A. Trace,” he finishes in a surprisingly harsh voice.For some reason, ‘vanish without a trace’ has Jiang Cheng thinking about dragonflies. Of the handful he took to bury and the one that had clung onto life, that survivor also died on the journey back to Yunmeng. Later, when he had time, when he dug through his sleeves for those dead dragonflies, there were none to be found. Back then he didn’t dwell much on it and assumed that they had been cleared out by his servants.“Alright then, what does fit?” Jingyi demands, equally as riled. “You need to consider that not everything we have read contains the whole truth! Here, look at the way it’s written!”“I have looked,” Sizhui says. “Many, many times. You know that I have!”“Hang on, hang on, immortality,” Wei Wuxian plucks at his lip. “Just think about this for a minute. We are all, as you say, cultivating towards it. That means it is a progressive thing. You do not suddenly pshoo up into the sky like that! As Sizhui said, the effects of immortality can be seen as the retention of youth. Look at your Senior Jiang. Look at your Hanguang-Jun. Neither of them looks a day over twenty-five, do they?”None of the juniors seems very convinced. Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes seeing Jin Ling is squinting at him doubtfully. He barely spent a second assessing Lan Wangji! What’s with that look?!!Wei Wuxian, “Alright then. Take… take Teacher, for example!”Lan Wangji says, “Wei Ying.” His warning is thus ignored.“Look at that youthful face!” Wei Wuxian says eagerly, pointing at a very red-faced man with the type of fearlessness one can only maintain from having an extremely thick face. “And he’s what, seventy… sixty…… fifty years old? Who knows how long he’s lived, and yet he still is so—”Lan Wangji sounds pained. “Wei. Ying.”Wei Wuxian, “—young and sprightly. What? What did you think I was going to say?”Lan Qiren, “…”Jiang Cheng doesn’t know whether to laugh or kill him.“Okay, yes! That’s a v-very good point there, Senior Wei!” Jingyi stammers, choking on a strained laugh. When Lan Qiren’s moustache twitches, he hurries onto his next explanation. “B-But back to what I was saying! Immortality by the conventional route is as you have described, but we have to consider the possibility that not everyone follows this path. Also, whilst I have said to not take everything we have read quite so literally, consider this…”He hands a scroll over to Jin Ling, who bites his lips before reading aloud. Each word makes Jiang Cheng’s muscles tighten to the point he fears they might snap. Whilst these terms are not unfamiliar to him, spoken aloud under such circumstances, one can’t deny they sound quite gruesome.“The path to enlightenment: to shed one’s mortal body and exchange one’s bones, thereby shattering the void,” Jin Ling says blandly. “Liberation from the corpse, ascendence to the heavens. By this means one transcends the mortal plane.”Jingyi wordlessly picks up another book and tosses it at Sizhui, who merely shuts his eyes at this. He doesn’t even need to look at the page. “Requirements for achieving immortality include refining oneself through righteous conduct, internal alchemy of the Three Treasures[4], and external alchemy of the body through nutrition.”“These are things we have all learnt already! Things that I have taught you!” Lan Qiren suddenly bursts out. “But you are contradicting yourself again! Quoting these texts word-for-word and then saying not to take them so literally! Tsk! Preposterous!”“Teacher, I’m just hypothesising here,” Jingyi whines. “Please bear with me for a minute. Do you think I am unaware of how it sounds?”“Though there are several points that do not match up,” Sizhui says, “It is not completely impossible that Zewu-Jun has unintentionally achieved—”Lan Qiren, “How can someone unintentionally achieve such a thing?! You boys have clearly been reading too many stories! I will not listen to any more of this nonsense! What a disgrace!” With that he storms away, leaving the juniors shuffling their feet.After a beat, Wei Wuxian claps his hands together. “Right then,” he says. “Now that that’s over with, explain this ‘unintentional’ cultivation.”They all perk up hearing this, instantly rejuvenated by their mentor’s encouragement. Naturally, Jingyi is the one who fights to speak first. “The most difficult part of cultivating is always the internal alchemy, right? And that’s because it is tied to a person’s shen, qi, and—”“Ah, ah, ah! Let’s not talk about the last one, okay?” Darting a glance at his husband, Wei Wuxian rubs the back of his neck. “Shen and qi though are indeed difficult to master, but I believe we are talking about shen here.”Jingyi nods. “Meditation is the most common method with which shen is refined, but is it not also refined when a person becomes more conscious of themselves? Harmony between the spirit, the body, the mind. In concordance with achieving immortality, one must also detach themselves from earthly bonds such as desire and regret.”“Also achieved with wu wei,” Sizhui says. “The action of inaction.” With great reluctance, he concludes, “Seclusion.”Seclusion.The room they’re standing in. The hanshi too. She spent the rest of her life here.Jiang Cheng thinks back to when he first learnt that the First Jade was retreating from society. What if that was the decision that began all of this? But these boys seem to be of the opinion that this was unintentional. Maybe even accidental. Jiang Cheng cannot imagine Lan Xichen planning to attempt this without telling anyone. He would never leave his family like this—without any warning and reeling in the aftermath.At this thought, he can’t help thinking of Lan Qiren’s reaction, and when he looks at Lan Wangji the man resembles a block of ice. The blood staining his robes only adds to his frightening appearance. Jiang Cheng doesn’t blame Ouyang Zizhen for scooting behind him and only crosses his arms in response.“Meditation,” is all the Second Jade says, stiffly turning towards Wei Wuxian. “That’s a definite possibility,” he replies with a nod. What cryptic bullshit is this?! Jiang Cheng bristles, but then Jingyi says, “Wait, there’s more!”Both Sizhui and Lan Wangji react instantly with clear disapproval, but Jingyi scuttles over to Wei Wuxian. He lets out a small chuckle, placing a hand on his head. “Go on. I’ll protect you.”“Lan An,” he says, much to Jiang Cheng’s bafflement. (A memory resurfaces. Lan An? Your ancestor? That guy?) “There are things about his life that I believe are relevant to what is happening now. That he became immortal is one thing—”“But didn’t he die?” Jiang Cheng asks, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. It’s then that he realises he hasn't spoken since they regrouped. Did they forget he was here?! He scowls. “From what I can recall, he went on to live as a monk after his fated one died, and… didn’t he die then too?”“According to his son he did,” Jingyi agrees. “But the person I actually want to talk about is—”“So he was immortal but then he died?” Ouyang Zizhen sounds utterly confused. “How does that work?”“Technically everyone is immortal,” Jingyi mutters. “…until we die.”“You idiot!” Jin Ling spits out but surprises everyone by smacking Ouyang over the head. “There is a difference between immortality and invincibility, you know? If you paid more attention during group discussions instead of reading your ‘art-books’ then you wouldn’t need to ask this!”Wei Wuxian breaks out coughing and pats Jingyi’s head like a dog. “Alright, alright! Let’s hear more about Lan An and how he is connected.”Here is when Jingyi clams up. Without Sizhui by his side, and both him and Hanguang-Jun standing opposite to him, even though he’s hiding behind Wei Wuxian he still feels precarious. Even if Lan Qiren is no longer around to shoot him down, Hanguang-Jun is the one who actually decides on punishments. “There is a myth,” he says, eyes darting between the Second Jade and Mini First Jade. “Which I believe corresponds to… to… Senior Wei,” he murmurs, “I don’t think I can say more about this… here.”Wei Wuxian smiles. “Oh, why not?”Tugging at his sleeve, he whispers, “Because... Sizhui has said that if I speak of this to anyone... I will be forced to copy out the rules... at least a thousand times.”Wei Wuxian whistles. “My goodness, is it that bad?”“Hanguang-Jun has also said,” Jingyi says, shrinking under a golden-eyed stare, “Much like Teacher said, that I have been reading too many stories.”“That may be true. You do read a lot. But that wasn’t the real reason, was it Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says knowingly, meeting his husband’s gaze. This smile is one rarely ever seen. Soft and comforting. Let me handle this, it says. “Jingyi, this theory of yours must be quite something to provoke this type of reaction from Hanguang-Jun! I’m really looking forward to hearing about it!”“Really? You are?” Jingyi beams. Then he ducks down again. “But… But—” Wei Wuxian, “I promise to take half of your punishment if that is necessary. What do you say to that? Deal?”Jingyi pulls a face, but he must be bursting with the need to tell someone about this. He grabs his hand and drags Wei Wuxian out just as the man hisses next time you should come to me first! The door has been blasted open, so they can hear Jingyi already babbling away at top-speed. “About this myth, you do know the tale of the Cowherd and the…”Jiang Cheng’s ears perk up. Cowherd?
The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.
He blinks a few times, trying to digest this information. Is it not too much of a coincidence that this is the myth Jingyi has some issue with? After all, this is the myth which he has also spoken to Lan Xichen about several times. What are the chances of that? For god’s sake though. Why did that rascal have to latch onto Wei Wuxian and run off like that? What about the rest of them?! Whatever theory he’s got, now they’ll never get to hear it!Jiang Cheng lets a noise hiss out of his nose. The urge to smash something has returned, but the room is already a mess.“Jiùjiu.” Jin Ling pauses, hovering at his elbow. “Speaking about Lan An, did you get my letter?”Letter? For a split second this draws a blank. Then he remembers what he found out about Jiang Chi and Lan Yu. It feels like that was weeks ago, not hours… and what does it matter now? How can Jin Ling be thinking of schoolwork at a time like this? It was easier to convince himself he was calm when everyone else was talking, but now—asking him such a thing is asking for a slap!“Not now,” he says.“But—”“I said not now!”Before Jin Ling was steady as a rock, but now there is no sword pointed at Jiang Cheng's throat, he lacks that motivation. His face darkens nevertheless. “Uncle, I really can’t believe you’re scolding me right now. Do you think I would ask you for something like this if it was not important?”“You…” Maybe once he would have snapped ‘that’s literally all that you do!’, but after Jin Ling rushed to his defence, Jiang Cheng cannot in good conscience utter those words. It’s true that Jin Ling has become more independent since the days when he was calling for Jiang Cheng at all hours of the day. “Is this to do with what Jingyi was talking about?” he asks evenly.Jin Ling nods vigorously, “It is!”Though he still cannot figure out what these Lan ancestors have to do with Lan Xichen’s whereabouts, seeing Jin Ling so adamant about this, he relents. “Fine, I will tell you about it. But later, alright? I can’t…” With the bulk of conversation over, there is little left to distract him from the fact that Lan Xichen is gone. He is gone, but not in the way he thought it would happen. It’s too much to process in too short a time, and—“Later is fine,” Jin Ling agrees. There is a hand on his arm squeezing gently. The pressure is just right. Jiang Cheng shudders, swallowing past a lump of panic. “One last thing though. About earlier, what is the plan regarding that?”Earlier? What does he… oh, the minor sects? Jiang Cheng removes Jin Ling’s hand, pausing awkwardly when he catches a flash of disappointment. “That’s not your problem. I will deal with it.”Jin Ling laughs mirthlessly. A chilling sound coming from a boy. “From the moment I came to fetch you, it became my problem. Even if I hadn’t come, sooner or later I would have involved myself. What will it take for you to see that?”Jiang Cheng's mouth opens but nothing comes out. “Ugh, whatever. Come on, Ouyang-xiong, let’s go,” Jin Ling says, shaking his head. He tosses over his shoulder, “Remember to get some rest, Uncle. I will see you tomorrow.”As Jiang Cheng watches them leave, he feels something swelling in his chest. Softer than pride and warmer than gratitude. How did he grow up so fast? Did he miss this change, or did it happen right under his very nose? He almost forgets that he isn’t alone in the Gentian House, but then a voice speaks up.“…know he can be quite outspoken, and I don’t agree with everything he says either, but he still deserves to be listened to. You taught me that.”Sizhui is talking to Lan Wangji. He has taken his father behind the (torn) paper screen. Jiang Cheng is about to leave to give them more privacy, but then he takes one step and crumples to the ground. Fuck, but he forgot. All that spiritual energy he poured into Lan Xichen has left him weak, and after this shock, he is completely drained.They must have heard him because there is a pause, but then Sizhui says, “A-Yi has wanted to speak with you about this, but you keep shutting him down. Senior W—Dad said you had another reason for doing this.” After a few beats, he speaks up again. “Father?”At first, Jiang Cheng is sure he isn’t going to speak, and he is more focused on trying to get his legs to work again, so he isn’t prepared for when a voice says very quietly, “The theory is plausible.”If the theory is plausible, why would Lan Wangji refuse to consider it? If Lan Xichen has ascended… but if he has, and it was the way they saw it happen, does that mean he flew up to heaven? Literally? Flew up to heaven? Could that be the reason?Those who become immortal are meant to roam the earth forever. The ones they have heard of, such as Baoshan Sanren, usually retreat to a sacred place such as a mountain and… and well, presumably they live there. That’s just how it goes. If Lan Xichen has gone up to heaven though, that begs the question: will he come back?He will come back, right?Jiang Cheng looks around the room, at the canvas which has toppled over.The desk strewn with papers. The low table, and… he twists around. Where is the inkstone? Maybe it’s somewhere under all these letters—fuck! The letters! Whilst there is nothing too incriminating written, Jiang Cheng’s panic is mostly because somewhere hidden in one of these letters is his poem. The poem! And it could be any of them! In any of these letters! Scattered! Around! For! All! To! See!Forget exhaustion—forget everything! Suddenly there is nothing more important than picking up all of these letters and hiding them away! Jiang Cheng scrabbles around on all fours, scooping up armful after armful of… seriously, how much did he write? Does a single letter really matter that much when there are this many in existence?!Blood rushes to his cheeks, and for some reason, his eyes feel hot too. This is mortifying. His hands cannot stop shaking.In the back of his head, a little voice pipes up but that means he kept them. All of your letters. Just like you have kept all of his. Lan Wangji, “There are other implications though.”Sizhui hums in agreement. “The parts that are anomalous, such as the beam of light, and the fact Uncle hasn’t shown any inclination towards this path.” He receives an ‘en' for this. “But why did you mention meditation?”Lan Wangji lets out a long exhale. “I will explain. Follow me."Jiang Cheng nearly swallows his tongue when Lan Wangji steps around the screen. In his arms are... really? Is his luck really this bad? Jiang Cheng wants to scream, but can only watch as the man walks over and hands him two neat stacks of letters. Fucking hell. His face is burning by now. As well as this, Lan Wangji places the inkstone carefully on the table. “T…Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says through clenched teeth. There’s no point pretending these aren’t from him. The letters are marked with the Yunmeng Jiang seal! “I will clean up the rest.”In all honesty, he was already planning to do this. Ever since Lan Wangji held Bichen to his throat, the thought was forced into his mind: did I do something to cause this? He was planning to atone for it somehow, even if it was only by cleaning up this mess. This nothing in terms of what he should receive for punishment, but it is a start.“Thank you,” Lan Wangji replies, solemnly dipping his chin. He leaves in this same fashion.Sizhui hesitates, but then he gives him a tight smile. “I can send some disciples to help?”“No,” Jiang Cheng says quickly. “No, I will do this.”Sizhui looks like he wants to protest, but then he nods. He picks up the mess of books and scrolls and gives Jiang Cheng another concerned look before departing. For a while, he loses track of time.Crawling around, picking up the result of months of correspondence. It is another good distraction. Eventually, he ends up at the bed. In the same way he tried to delay this before, he circled the entire room to avoid reaching this moment. There is the imprint of a body which shows where he was lying. Where a statue of jade and gold lay breathing, talking, laughing and crying.As he thinks and thinks about this, Jiang Cheng suddenly breaks into tears.Biting his arm to muffle his sobs, it all comes rushing back to him at once. How strange their last conversation was, and how each word spoken felt as heavy as the earth. It’s alright, he said, and they were alright in the end. But is it alright now? Is anything?Was this his fault? Did he really cause this to happen?Lan Wangji wasn’t known for condemning a person without good reason.The sound of footsteps sends him into a flurry. Scrubbing his face dry, he returns to his task. It’s only when minutes have passed and the other has remained quiet that Jiang Cheng looks up. Wen Ning has an assortment of things wedged in his arms. Somehow he is carrying an entire bookshelf without scraping it on the floor.Wen Ning carefully places it in its former place and then adds three piles to the collection of letters. Jiang Cheng says nothing when he goes about the room, lifting up heavier pieces of furniture where they have fallen. He moves around with ease, revealing that he must have been here quite often to know the place so well.They work in silence. Once all the letters have been gathered, Jiang Cheng sifts through all of them one by one. When he reaches the last stack, he is near despairing. Where is the poem? The drunken letter? How can it not be here?“Sect Leader Jiang.”“What is it?”“Have you noticed that… there is dust everywhere,” Wen Ning says, picking up an ornament and wiping it with his sleeve. “I didn’t notice it outside.” Jiang Cheng rubs his fingers together. It’s true that there is a layer of grime coating his skin, but he was too preoccupied with other things to notice. On his wet skin it’s become sludge, but before this, it could have been dust.Dust brings to mind what Jin Ling recited before. To shed one’s mortal body and exchange one’s bones. What a disturbing choice of words. What’s more, how terrible is it that he can picture it happening? The explosion of light tearing apart Lan Xichen’s flesh, this scattering of dust being all that remains—
Did you know that we were made from dust?
In the midst of that horrifying thought, this memory swims to the surface. A-Jie? Why is he thinking about her now, of all times? This was during childhood, so her voice is soft and sweet as she tells him—it’s not the story written down here, but I like to believe what I believe. We began as the smallest of the small. Eventually, we got bigger. The goddess Nüwa shaped us from clay, it says. Here, look... “So what?” he asks, trying to keep a straight face. “After an explosion like that, it’s normal that there would be dust.”“It reminds me about one time I was talking to… to him.” Wen Ning shakes dust off each cushion and carefully places the soft ratty one on top. The action carries such genuine fondness and respect that Jiang Cheng finally allows his tears to run freely down his face. “He refused to let me stay outside. It was raining badly like it is today.”Of course Lan Xichen would do that. Being familiar with the First Jade’s personal brand of fussing, he can imagine it quite easily: Lan Xichen bullying Wen Ning indoors, his perpetual smile tinged with an edge of sternness. Please excuse me. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I’m an older brother after all. Somehow he manages a small laugh. Something rattles in Wen Ning’s lungs. Jiang Cheng recognises the sound and realises that he is laughing too.Who would have thought that Wei Wuxian would ever defend him against his husband? Or that Jin Ling would as well? Or that Lan Wangji would thank him? Or that he'd end up here, crying and laughing with an old enemy, and not caring at all for how he looks?His world has really changed so much.Wen Ning walks with a confidence that would seem at odds with his previous meek self, but then again, that isn’t him anymore. He seems more at ease with the situation than anyone else, puttering around as if… but is he really so unbothered by all of this? What does he care what Wen Ning thinks? Even if they have lost a fair amount of animosity between them, they aren’t friends.He goes back to sorting the papers. With such mixed feelings yet this odd sense of camaraderie, he cannot hold back his curiosity. “What did you talk about?”“Not much,” Wen Ning replies, stooping to pick up—oh, the canvas. He sets it down with the same amount of care that he handles everything. Does he know about the painting too? Jiang Cheng’s heart nearly stops when he says, “Home.” But then he continues listing: “Festivals. Rain. Farming.” (Farming?) “A-Yuan. My sister, and… dust.”“Dust?” he echoes.“Mm, dust.” Wen Ning nods. Jiang Cheng has no idea what that means, but he can imagine Lan Xichen asking about Wen Qing, and talking about their shared nephew, and the other things too. “Well, I was the one who spoke about dust, and how a little rain could bring about wonders. It reminded me that he said something in return… here it is,” he says, handing him a scrap of paper. “Ah yes, I remember it now.”Jiang Cheng’s mind goes blank, but he forces himself to read. In his own ink, his own words:
Thank the rain for the flowers.
The paper crumples in his hands, and a tearful laugh tumbles out of him.The dust stirs in Wen Ning’s wake.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them."
— Kahlil Gibran
What does this part mean? he demanded, scowling at the passage. The words glared right back at him. Only A-Jie’s hand on his shoulder and her soft laughter stopped him from ripping the pages apart. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow, your heart dreams of spring. [1] In her lilting voice, it sounded like a song. In his dream, he knew its meaning.He wakes and does not know its meaning.There is the taste of salt in his mouth, dust caught in his lashes, something sticky smeared on his cheeks. When Jiang Cheng finds his nose blocked completely, he knows his whole face must be a hideous mess. Sitting up, every joint creaks in protest. It’s only then that he realises he is not, in fact, alone. Up ahead is… a figure in white…?Can anyone blame him when his heart skips a beat? But this is the Cloud Recesses where everyone wears white robes. Of course it isn’t him.“Senior Jiang.” Jin Ling hangs back just behind Sizhui. Both of them are looking at the wreckage with gobsmacked expressions. Most of the room has been returned to its former state, but the memory of yesterday cannot be as easily swept away as dust and debris. For Jiang Cheng, it was a long night spent cleaning things up—a lowly task he would normally get others to do. In this case, however, since… well, since no one else had come to do it, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He didn’t care that it wasn’t his responsibility to do this, because when Lan Xichen returns— (When, not if, he tells himself.)—everything needs to be as it was before. He can’t explain why. Only that it must. Maybe then… maybe then, what? Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall to the canvas, no longer covered by anything. Home he called it, but what does it take to make a home, and how does one return to it?Jiang Cheng spent years trying to recover the Lotus Pier of his childhood, thinking that perhaps by doing so it would cure him of his longing. But he was proven wrong though because it wasn’t by his efforts that home eventually found its way to him. It almost feels as if it happened by chance. That somewhere along the way, during his many visits to Gusu, he kept leaving parts of himself behind. Not in letters, nor in gifts, nor in anything tangible. It was in how he came to remember who he was, in the moments between moments. In the face of such overwhelming kindness, it was so easy to fall apart. Then his soul became tethered, and slowly but surely his heart found its resting place. But those pieces of himself are not here anymore. There is nothing left but dust.“Uncle?” At some point, Sizhui must have left. Jin Ling is still standing there, squinting at him with a complicated expression. “Did you sleep there? On the floor? Like that?”Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, yet his vision remains blurred. Steam drifts up from the tray in Jin Ling’s hands. Chamomile tea. Jin Ling pours some for both of them and is just about to settle down to drink his own cup, when—“Fuck. He looks worse than us. How is that even possible?”“Pfft!”Tea goes everywhere.“A-Ling, I literally just cleaned up!” Jiang Cheng growls before twisting around, squinting at two silhouettes looming in the doorway. “Why are the two of you lurking over there like that? Come here at once!”Linzhen approaches first, clicking her tongue with each step she takes. “I really hate to say it Boss, but you look like shit. What happened?”Impertinence! Jiang Cheng’s jaw nearly hits the floor. “You watch your mouth!”Whilst this is happening, Minzhen nudges Xiao Ouyang forwards, who stammers insensibly the moment he comes into view. She sighs, hooking him around the shoulders. “Alright, you’ve seen him. Are you satisfied? Off you go, then!” and with that, Xiao Ouyang is herded back out of the Gentian House.Jiang Cheng tries to check his guards for injuries, but really… this is the worst thing about crying. It always fucks up your eyes afterwards (which he hates). As far as he can tell, whilst they are covered in mud they’re not hurt too badly. To be fair, he would be rather surprised if they were.“Alright so don’t ask us how, but Chief Cultivator Nie actually eventually managed to get things sorted out,” Minzhen babbles, sounding a little dazed herself. Jiang Cheng’s face must convey his disbelief, because she exclaims, “I know, right? I wouldn’t have believed it either if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes. He was quite efficient actua—”“In spite of that, there remain some things outside of his control,” Linzhen says, and then stops.Jiang Cheng licks his lips. “Go on.”Linzhen, “Sect Leader Nie has managed to delay your questioning, but… it has been agreed that you will be summoned for questioning the moment you step foot out of the Cloud Recesses.”It is pretty much what he was expecting, so he merely grunts in response. Summoned for questioning. Questioning means interrogation. No doubt he will then be sentenced for whatever the perceived crimes. Jiang Cheng ignores Jin Ling’s nervous fluttering beside him. It goes without question that whatever happens, this will have no bearing on Lanling Jin. That isn’t up for debate.As always, Yunmeng Jiang will stand to face judgement alone.To stand alone. Perhaps even to fall alone.Jiang Cheng briefly allows himself to remember the moment when he heard the sound of flying swords and bells. Seeing all his disciples had come after him, he’d been so taken aback that he almost fell right off Sandu. Pride mixed with terror and joy. In hindsight, he should have sent them all back at once. It would have been better if it had only been him. He swallows, throat clicking dryly. “How many?”“None,” Minzhen says immediately. “No one died, Boss. The battle didn’t even last that long. We managed to get in some good fighting but it was hardly ‘to-the-death’. There were too many kids around to allow for that. Even that dog-faced bastard knew he couldn’t go about swinging his sword all willy-nilly.”“Uncle,” Jin Ling reminds him. “Your tea.”Jiang Cheng forces himself to take a burning sip, filling his belly with a drop of liquid fire. “What stopped the fight?”“What else could it be,” Linzhen throws out her arms, “Than that fucking huge beacon of light suddenly shooting down from the sky?!”“Up, not down,” Jin Ling mumbles.Up or down, does it really matter? It was as if the heavens opened up and struck down with deadly force!! Either way, it happened in a flash. There was no time at all to react. (Jiang Cheng doesn't notice the cup shattering in his hands.) That image is scorched into his mind. It will haunt him till the day he dies. That thunderous blast that rendered him deaf and blind, and had him crawling on all fours. That came out of nowhere and left taking everything— “—ly shit! Boss?! Boss! Hey, can you hear me?!”Digging his heels in, Jiang Cheng flings himself backwards. Back to where he was before, curled up against the bed. With his legs tucked in, his shallow breaths knock into his knees. At the corner of his eye, he senses movement— “Fuck off.” Jiang Cheng hacks out a cough, gasping for breath. Jin Ling is hovering above him, eyes wide and bright and— “Back up. I… I n-need air.”“A-Ling, come here,” Minzhen calls. The moment Jin Ling's back is turned Jiang Cheng swipes an arm over his eyes. The skin on his face feels hot as if it has been blistered by the sun. He doesn’t bother hiding it when Linzhen squats down into a crouch. Staying at a distance, she offers him a handkerchief. “Do you…”Jiang Cheng shakes his head.Linzhen sighs, tossing the cloth over to him. “Alright then.” No doubt she will ask him about it later. Jiang Cheng focuses on the sharp edge of the bed-frame digging into his spine. Squeezing his legs with one arm, tracing the sewn edge of his boot with another. After several deep breaths, he lets his body slump, a wave of lethargy spilling over him.“Oh,” Linzhen says. (Oh? What ‘oh’?) Jiang Cheng cracks open an eye, only to find her staring at his—oh shit, at his belt. A hand flies up to cover that spot on his hip, but she has already seen everything! (Or rather, seen nothing. Fuck it all.) “What the—”“None of your business.”She arches a brow. “If you say so.”Even without looking, he knows Jin Ling is watching him. He can sense the weight of his gaze, sharp like the prickle of heat behind his eyes.Whilst Jin Ling has witnessed several of his breakdowns by now, Jiang Cheng has no desire to add to those experiences. If there’s one thing he’s learnt from being a guardian, it’s that everything he does has an impact on Jin Ling, and though he is pretty terrible keeping his emotions in check, where and when he is able, he can’t afford not to. Jin Ling shouldn't ever have to worry about him.“I’m fine,” he insists, keeping his head bent and eyes firmly shut. Stop it, he tells himself. You don’t get to act like this in front of him. Not here, not now, not ever. A long time ago, Jiang Cheng found out the hard way that if he didn’t control his temper around Jin Ling, his baby nephew he would end up crying. Sometimes it lasted for days. As a child, he frowned more than he smiled. When Jiang Cheng noticed this, it was then that he decided to keep everything to himself—
(Then what are you supposed to do? Hold onto your anger forever? How is that acceptable?)
—because who else could he talk to? Certainly not Jin Ling. For years he had no trouble living like this. Acceptable or not, it didn’t matter to him. None of this explains why has it become so difficult all of a sudden. He should be able to push it aside, just like he always does. Why is it that now of all times, he cannot cope?Maybe it’s because this is the second time he’s had to watch someone he loved disappear without a trace. Last time he was a stone’s throw away when it happened. He can still remember Wei Wuxian’s pale lips forming a shape. Mouthing a word to him that he could not read, mere moments before he—Breathe, he tells himself. Just breathe. Distantly there is the sound of splashing water. Then approaching footsteps. It takes everything not to flinch at the hand on his shoulder, but then something cold and wet touches his cheek. Jiang Cheng opens his eyes to find Jin Ling gently wiping at his face. “Uncle,” he says, “Why don’t we discuss my letter now? Lan Yu and Jiang Chi. You said you would tell me about them later.”Whilst both Spiders jolt at the mention of these two names, Jiang Cheng leans into the cool cloth pressed against his burning skin. There is a tightness in his muscles that he cannot shake off. Every time he blinks, there is a blinding flash of white. (Sometimes all we are is how we feel. But does that mean when you feel nothing, you become nothing?)“Lan Yu and Jiang Chi,” Minzhen murmurs after several minutes have passed in silence. When she meets his eyes and he shrugs, she drops to sit on the floor. Linzhen crosses her arms and props herself against the wall. “Now that we have your uncle’s permission to do so, A-Ling, allow us to tell you about them instead…”Most of what they say only confirms what he already knows, except that it chronicles Lan Yu’s journey from her first encounter with Meishan Yu. The other details the two women bring up pass right over his head.Apathy settles in his bones. As it curls its phantom limbs around him, he finds himself succumbing to numbness. With each second he grows more conscious of the hollow distance between. Becoming detached from the world… you also are vulnerable, but it never feels that way. If something were to happen right now, he can’t say if he would be able to defend himself.In the foreground, Minzhen’s voice swells with excitement as she speaks of how glorious Lan Yu was in battle. Fierce as a sword-strike, flying at speeds fast enough to churn up the rivers she clung to. Her passion and fury ignited such admiration in Meishan Yu that they eagerly took her in as a martial-sister—“Let’s continue this outside, A-Ling,” Linzhen interrupts, jerking her head when he opens his mouth to protest. She waits for the others to leave before giving Jiang Cheng a quick look. He purses his lips. No other words are needed.As he watches her go, he is both shaken and inspired by her confidence in him. Linzhen has always tried her best to call upon the Meishan Yu in his blood. She saw it as her duty that he should be given all that he was owed.(So you are a man, she sneered the first time they met. So what? I refuse to serve a weak young master. Fighting with whips or swords is one thing, but the battles women face every day build keen warriors of the mind. Know yourself, learn your limits. Clasping his arm, she squeezed till he looked up. We will show you; we stand alone, together.)Looking around at the room, the vast emptiness threatens to swallow him whole. Trying to speak aloud, the name becomes lodged in his throat. Turning around full-circle brings him back to the bed. There is no escaping the memories.
Even now you refuse to call me Xichen-ge. I’m really wondering what it will take.
Blinking rapidly, what seems like a thousand moments come rushing forth all at once. Tell me about Lotus Pier. But he has written so many letters. All that remains are the things that cannot be defined. Moments that seem to last forever. Remind me. What else is there left to say? With the chill of winter creeping over his heart, the summer trapped within his stuttering lungs. What else, Jiang Cheng? “What else?” he croaks, tears spilling over his cheeks. “You tell me what else.”He sees him everywhere.In the stars late at night, and the shimmering reflections on the water, and where the dust motes float around the room. The little things that perhaps weren’t so little after all. I care for you more than I thought I did. It’s this simple thought that undoes him every time, but it’s also a sweet balm for every wound that aches. Before when he sat waiting on the bed, he had been listening for Lan Xichen’s last breath. Then he lost his courage. Now he is waiting again, this time for him to return. Is this all he’s good for these days? Waiting? Can you stay for a little longer? But in all honesty, how long is this going to take? How much time can Nie Huaisang give them? With the summons looming over his head, the longer he drags this out, the worse the sentencing will be.In the end though, who really cares? It would be a far worse punishment not to be here when he returns. He would never forgive himself if he were to leave right now.A knock comes at the door. Jingyi sticks his head around the corner, eyes bulging when he sees him. “Oh, Senior Jiang! May we come in?”“This is not my house.”“…”Jingyi shuffles awkwardly inside with Sizhui following behind, carrying another tray that he places beside Jiang Cheng. Snow-white rice porridge. Sizhui hesitates for a moment, then pulls a small pouch out of his sleeve. He spoons something into the soup and slowly stirs it in. “Shūshu?” he offers with a hopeful smile.Whilst Jiang Cheng is aware that his energy reserves are low and he has lost all desire to eat… suddenly he gets an idea. With Jingyi watching him curiously, he adds more and more spice until the porridge becomes a far more alarming shade. Jiang Cheng gulps the whole thing down without breaking eye-contact with Jingyi. “Thank you,” he says to Sizhui whilst keeping his glare firmly fixed on the other boy, whose face keeps switching between red and green.Honestly, these Lans.These Lans, but this Lan in particular—this brat who went to go talk in private with Wei Wuxian, leaving the rest of them floundering! How dare he?As if this was the little push he needed, Jingyi immediately blurts out, “I… I don’t know why you’re angry, but I apologise!”Jiang Cheng snorts. “How can you apologise if you don’t even know what you did wrong?”“I’m sorry for uh… for not knowing why I’m sorry?”Sizhui clears his throat. “Jingyi, after you ran off to talk with Senior Wei, you left shūshu and the others behind without any explanation.” After a pause, he adds: “On top of that, you ran here just now...”Jingyi sputters. “But I had no choice! Senior Wei and I needed to go verify some facts, and you know what? So far, my theory actually seems to be holding up against all odds!”Sizhui sighs. “The fact that you are surprised by this isn’t comforting at all, you know.”“Your theory on immortality?” Jiang Cheng checks. Jingyi squirms a little under his scrutiny. “Perhaps.”“Perhaps?”“Well, what if it’s more than that?”Jiang Cheng is about to ask what he means by 'more than that', but then Sizhui lifts a hand and turns to whisper something to him. Is this the reason why Sizhui is here? To supervise what Jingyi is saying?Watching the emotions flit over Jingyi’s face, going from frustration to embarrassment to resignation, it dawns on Jiang Cheng that this could be for the same reasons as when Minzhen sought his permission earlier. If Wei Wuxian was allowed to discuss it, if Jingyi is not free to speak of it, this must be some sort of family secret.If so, that doesn’t explain why Lan Wangji refused to discuss Jingyi’s theory with him, unless… suddenly he remembers him saying 'there are other implications', and the thought of that stops him in his tracks. Other implications. At the time, he didn’t think much about it. Biting his lips, he tastes blood where they have cracked, the spice from the soup, but under all of that… the sweetness of persimmons, the salt of countless tears.Sizhui hesitates a little before speaking. “About Zewu-Jun, do you… has he ever given you any indication that he was actively trying to pursue immortality?”Jiang Cheng’s immediate response would be: of course not… but then he has to wonder: what if he did, and I simply didn’t notice it? After thinking about it, the closest he can come to an answer is when he asked Lan Xichen what it was he truly wanted, to which he simply replied: to make my own plans, to live my own life. If Lan Xichen has given any indication of wanting anything, it was only for the chance to do these two things. It was with the same kind of wistful longing that Jiang Cheng would sometimes imagine himself going on grand adventures instead of battling monstrous towers of paperwork. As a leader, you haven’t the freedom to always follow your heart. It’s with this in mind that he says, with confidence: “Not at all.”“And he… he wouldn’t just leave us like that,” Jingyi says in a small voice, “Would he?”Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Are you stupid?! Of course not!” Staring at Jingyi’s hunched shoulders and quivering lips, he finds he cannot be angry at him. Looking at them both, he reminds himself: they are children. “He would never,” Jiang Cheng declares, “Do such a thing. He isn’t the sort of person who would hide what he is doing, nor would he ever abandon his duties so recklessly! Understand?”Surprisingly enough, these words seem to do the trick. For whatever reason, a tension he was not even aware of seems to have been released. Jingyi gives him a wobbly smile and scoots closer, completely unconcerned that Jiang Cheng will lash out at him. Can he not see that Jiang Cheng is a hair's breadth away from losing his temper? What a foolish, overly trusting—“You’re right,” Jingyi sniffles. Jiang Cheng nods stiffly. “Obviously.”That earns him a chuckle from Sizhui, who nudges his friend until his smile doesn’t look so forced. Really now. That grudge Jiang Cheng had been building against Jingyi has lost all traction, because it’s so easy to see now that his actions were borne out of desperation.Jiang Cheng blinks, and sees his younger self—but no, that’s not quite right. The one he is reminded instead of is actually a young Wei Wuxian. With Jingyi clinging onto his facts, sticking to his morals, running around to find a mad solution, his mind racing too far ahead, his wild ideas too far-fetched to be taken seriously…Okay, so maybe he can understand why Jingyi would be so glad to have Wei Wuxian’s support that he would literally run off to discuss things with him. If going to his beloved Hanguang-Jun ended with him being scolded, why—getting the opposite reaction must have felt like the Buddha himself came down to pat him on the back! That’s all very well, but he would like some answers too.Jiang Cheng, “What else can you tell me?”Now, all it takes is a gentle nudge, and Jingyi starts babbling like a stream! “If you were to compare what we saw yesterday to what is written in cultivation texts, the points on which they differ suggest there may be other factors at work. Since you… you know how the whole,” he flings his arms out, nearly smacking Sizhui in the face, “How it went boom, and it came out of nowhere?”Seeing Jiang Cheng’s jaw tighten, Sizhui hurries to explain, “What he means is that it was quite violent compared to descriptions we have read, which is why—”“Which is why Senior Wei has gone to look into it! He thinks it is possible Zewu-Jun might have been taken against his will. Could it be that somehow his ascension was forced?”Well, at this statement, Jiang Cheng can see why Lan Wangji would give up on listening.To force ascension, to ‘unintentionally’ cultivate to immortality—quite frankly, all of this sounds like utter horseshit. More than that, if any of this holds even a grain of truth... then it also presents a rather terrifying thought. After all, how powerful would a person have to be to force Lan Xichen to ascend against his will? Who could even do that, and for what reason would they want to?Going down that path might even bring heaven into question, which creates a whole different realm of possibilities, with so much more at stake it doesn’t bear thinking about! If everything Lan Xichen has been through is down to divine intervention, what power do they have to oppose it? Up until yesterday, this was merely a question of how they could save his life, but if the gods have decided— Hold on a minute… gods?
Well, what if it’s more than that?
Jiang Cheng staggers to his feet. He leaps over both boys before they can scramble aside, barrelling across the room in a flurry of agitation. He needs to move. To walk. To think. Godhood? Could it be? Impossible, he thinks. Then again, Lan Xichen and his brother have always been compared to gods. Their ethereal beauty and high cultivation paint the perfect image of what most people assume a god would be like. There are all sorts of fantastical descriptions in scripture; extravagant depictions of what the hero’s ascension might entail, but… all of that is fiction. They’re just stories. Surely they can’t be real. I can tell you a story that you already know of that is both legend and real. Lan Xichen was just teasing him back then though. It’s not like he meant it. Sizhui’s question comes floating back to him. Did he ever give you any indication— There has never been any doubt in his mind that both Lan brothers would achieve immortality, but… that was with a view to following in the footsteps of someone like Baoshan Sanren. To become someone who lives isolated from the world but still exists within it. “Shūshu—”“Shut up.” There is something else that doesn’t make sense. It is sometimes said that cultivating to immortality goes against the will of heaven, so why would some divine authority decide to give Lan Xichen a ‘helping hand’ then? And to take him against his will as well… why did they want him? What did they want from him? Jiang Cheng’s head pounds with how much he’s grinding his teeth, his heart thrashing painfully to the point he fears it might burst out of his chest.If this is what is happening though, if the enemy is at long last revealing themselves… does this mean they can finally start taking some action? Because that would be fantastic. He would really love it if they could just—“Oh, your hands!” Jingyi squeaks, and goes digging through his sleeves, pulling out a dozen random objects. “I have bandages, somewhere, and—”“Leave it.” Jiang Cheng unclenches his fists with a hiss.His palms are a mess of crisscrossing cuts and blood stains under his fingernails. Already, he knows the ointment Jingyi has on him will smell of honey but sting like vinegar.(If it hurts, that means it’s working, Lan Xichen explained, dumping almost an entire bottle onto his hands. He carefully rubbed the wounds until they stopped oozing blood. One would have thought the pain would be enough to deter a person from being so careless, and yet... he laughed sadly, and yet here we are.)“Tell me.” The words nearly choke him, but he needs to know. “How was he before yesterday? Did anything change? When I was gone, did he… was he ever…” To shed one’s mortal body and exchange one’s bones. Ever since Jin Ling said those words, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about them. Instead of answering him, Jingyi reaches out and drums his fingers on the table. Beside him Sizhui twitches, lips tightening when the rhythm becomes more insistent. He knocks his knuckles twice in response. Are they somehow communicating like this?“Uncle was pretty good these last few weeks,” Sizhui says, brows pinching together when Jingyi lets out a huff. “He meditated a lot though, or kept trying to. We noticed he wasn’t eating much either. He would leave entire meals untouched.” Bìgǔ[2]?Before, Sizhui asked him ‘has he ever given you any indication that he was actively planning on pursuing immortality?’, but if he couldn’t consume anything... isn’t that essentially the same thing as practising inedia? Unintentional cultivation. Could this be how it was achieved? Lan Xichen's bones had felt as sharp as knives underneath his skin.Jiang Cheng presses a hand to his mouth, fighting back a wave of nausea.If he has been unable to eat, doesn’t that mean he’s been starving all this time? He ate the persimmons though, didn’t he? And what about the tea?
(You told me that you were doing fine, and the fool that I am, I believed you.
But with you, I did feel better.)
Jiang Cheng sinks to his knees. “He never mentioned this.”After a beat, Sizhui smiles sadly. “That’s just the type of person Zewu-Jun is. The only time he seemed troubled by anything was when he was at his desk. He could spend hours just sitting there, not writing anything at all.”Lan Xichen’s letters have never once reflected this struggle. They remained the same, even after Jiang Cheng sent him the poem. The fact he had no idea he had been suffering this badly… he doesn’t know what to think.
Do you think that loving someone is always such a burden? In which case, would it not have been better if he had loved her in secret?
Jiang Cheng can’t stop thinking... if what Sizhui says is true, then as well as Lan Xichen suffering in silence, the only times he couldn’t mask his sorrow… was when he was writing those letters—“Senior Jiang,” Jingyi says, “Can I ask you something?”Sizhui spins around. “We do not have permission—”“Technically is he not allowed?”“Only if it can be confirmed!”“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng mutters lowly, then to Jingyi, “Ask your stupid question.”Shut up and ask? Jingyi’s mouth twists, but he sits up a little. “Did you get Jin Ling’s letter?”“I did.”“And from that, is it possible… I won’t ask for details, but if you have information on Lan Yu, you must know there’s a possibility that our ancestry is linked.”Linked via his parents’ marriage—through his mother-sect, Meishan Yu, which has guarded and carried the secrets and teachings of Lan Yu with them throughout their centuries of wandering the world. Was this why Jingyi said ‘technically is he not allowed?’ But does that mean that as a distantly related Lan descendent, his diluted blood doesn’t permit him to know certain pieces of information?“Many older sects have shared ancestry.” Jiang Cheng absolutely doesn’t look at Sizhui when he says this. This thing about families is rather baffling though, prompting him to ask: “What does this have to do with your theory though?” At Jingyi’s blank stare, he prompts, “About immortals?”“Oh, but this is a different theory,” Jingyi says.A… a different theory? “Exactly how many theories do you have?”Jingyi lifts up a hand and starts counting. Then he adds his other hand. Next to him, Sizhui murmurs something, causing him to sigh and go back to the beginning—Jiang Cheng, “Are you kidding me?!”“Something as complex as Zewu-Jun’s condition requires multiple possible theories!” Jingyi argues, and starts listing them off: “Qi deviation, curse, hereditary disease, idiosyncratic disease, immortality, and then there are many combinations of each—”“Alright, alright, stop.” Jiang Cheng clutches the side of his head. “Just,” he waves a hand, “Explain this.”It’s Sizhui who speaks next: “From what we have found, Lan An may be an important factor in what we believe may be some sort of inherited trait.”Lan An? Jingyi ran off to talk with Wei Wuxian about Lan An, the 'Cowherd and the Weaver-girl' myth, and Lan Xichen at the centre of it all. But how can these three things be linked? Jiang Cheng scowls. “What sort of trait?”“Something that follows the Lan bloodline,” Jingyi says, “That means that our family has a history of tragic endings.” (Tragic endings?) “We traced it back all the way to the founder, and he also had a tragic ending. After his partner died, he—”“Yes, yes, he passed away too,” Jiang Cheng flaps a hand, “Get to the point!”“Did you know that some of the only things that have been documented since those ancient times are the rules?” Jingyi gives him a very wide-eyed look then. “Of all things! I couldn’t believe it myself, but sadly enough it's true.”The rules? “The Lan Sect rules?” Jiang Cheng clarifies: “Those rules?”“What other rules could I be… yes, those rules!” Then, seeming to realise his mistake, Jingyi lowers his voice. “Speaking of rules, do you know the reason why they usually tend to be made?” To help make sense of the world comes floating through Jiang Cheng’s head, but he pushes it aside. Is this why Lan Wangji reacted so badly? It would make sense if Jingyi has been attacking his precious rules with his outlandish theories. “There can be many reasons,” he replies evenly.Jingyi leans forwards. “Would you agree though that most of the time, rules are created to prevent others from repeating those mistakes?” (Jiang Cheng shrugs.) “Would you say that other than acting as a deterrent, they might also be made to prevent people from doing things that may be classed as dangerous?”Jiang Cheng stares, unblinking. “Get to the point.”“The first set of rules to be established were written shortly after Lan An's death by his son, Lan Jin.” Jingyi sucks in a deep breath before reciting: “Be a filial child; diligence is the root; do not forget the grace of the forefathers.” Sizhui continues, “More rules were added when news came that his sister, Lan Yu, had also died during her travels. Do not live extravagantly; do not break promises; do not argue with your family, for it doesn’t matter who wins.” Jiang Cheng could see where this was going. “Are you trying to say that each rule was added to prevent people from repeating the mistakes which have led to these two people's deaths?” When he receives two nods, he sits back to think. If Lan Jin began the tradition of making rules out of fear, that meant that instead of their intention being to motivate a righteous lifestyle (the Lan motto: be righteous), the rules were meant to keep them safe from whatever dangers he perceived. There are over four-thousand Lan Sect rules. Our family has a history of tragic endings. The cause of Lan Yu’s death is unknown, but as for Lan An, it’s assumed he died from grief. There are things about his life that I believe are relevant to what is happening now. The juniors thought it necessary to tell him about their shared ancestry.Truly, the phrase: ‘there are other implications’ has never been so ominous before.“Alright,” Jiang Cheng says after thinking. “And?”Jingyi, “…and?”“What else? That can’t be everything. If this idea of yours is true, it would suggest that being the most perfect, obedient Lan disciple will protect you from all harm. Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself then, Jingyi?” Jingyi starts choking on nothing, forcing Sizhui to pat his back in consolation.It’s all very well them speculating about rules and the reasons behind them, but what does any of this have to do with Lan Xichen though?By now Jiang Cheng knows Lan Xichen is far from perfect. In fact, he has confessed to many occasions where he either bent the rules or somehow worked his way around them. I was a curious child, he admitted, grinning when Jiang Cheng shot him a look. But after I had misbehaved, I would take my punishment without grumbling! Later on, I would always tell myself it was worth it. Whatever wrongs he has committed in his lifetime though, surely all the good deeds he has carried out far outweigh these small transgressions. It just doesn’t add up—“Senior Jiang,” Jingyi says. (He recovered quickly. If anything, this boy has a very thick face!) “I thank you for your concern. However, regarding Zewu-Jun, you do understand what I’m trying to say here, right?”Jiang Cheng admits, “Whilst I understand that your rules may have been founded on these grounds, I don’t understand what Xichen could have done to warrant what happened to him.” Does ascension even count as a punishment? Maybe not, but thinking about everything Lan Xichen has been going through, and how much he has suffered… the veins on the back of his hands protrude and his head starts pounding again. “He didn’t deserve to suffer like that.”For some reason, Jingyi’s expression softens. “Have you ever read those stories where something terrible happened a really long time ago, but the consequences of it last for a long time afterwards?”Where something terrible happened, and the consequences… isn't that basically the story of his life?Jiang Cheng grunts a yes. That’s about as much thought he’s going to give it.Jingyi chews his lip. “Well, you see there is this myth—”“A-Yi,” Sizhui hisses.“The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl,” Jiang Cheng says. “You mentioned it before. Are you saying…”But what is he saying? That the story is true? Technically we know so little about Lan An's life that most of what is written is as good as fiction. Lan Xichen appears before him, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold. Everything about him radiant against the snow.
The legend goes that after his fated person passed away, in spite of the sadness this caused him, he was truly grateful for the time they had together and wanted their children to experience the same joy they had shared.
(The same joy? Did he really want his children to experience the same joy he had shared with his wife? Because after she passed away, did he not essentially die from a broken heart—)Going back to the myth, there is something about it that he can’t quite understand. It’s there, just beyond his reach. It’s quite romantic, don’t you think? Lan Xichen had asked. But was it really? Jiang Cheng hadn’t agreed at all, because in the end they were separated. (They were separated, he thinks. Fuck the bridge. The bridge means nothing.)
It's only tragedies that are spoken of again and again.
No one ever likes a happy ending—
“Enough,” he spits out, feeling like his head is about to split in two. “That’s enough. Go away.” Sizhui collects the bowls and cups and drags JingYi out behind him. The moment he is alone, Jiang Cheng grips both sides of his head and squeezes with all his strength. There are parts of this whole thing that fit surprisingly well together. For example: Lan An and the weaver-goddess Zhïnu? A shocking thought. Mind-blowing. Utterly scandalous. At the same time… he can see it.Then there are all the parts of it that don’t fit at all. Anomalies such as Lan Wangji: the man who went against his entire sect to defend Wei Wuxian, struck down thirty-three elders, and was consequently whipped thirty-three times… Jiang Cheng has no idea how many rules he broke, and yet he is still here. Alive and well. Wei Wuxian has also returned, and now they are happily married.There are probably many other Lans who have broken countless rules in their lives. Not everyone is destined to fall in love though, and everyone has different goals in their life. There is probably an infinite number of ways a person could incur a punishment, as shown by the four-thousand existing Lan Sect rules.Now he can understand why Lan Wangji would want to reject the fuck out of this theory.It contradicts itself. It makes no sense.(And yet he also said that it was plausible.)Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to think anymore.It’s too much. Myths, punishments, tragic endings. But what if whoever is behind this is actually trying to spare Lan Xichen from that fate? Jiang Cheng considers it for a moment, but then wonders what type of mercy would allow a person to suffer the way he had? There are scriptures where the purification of one’s body is described as cleansing the marrow and replacing the tendons— It sounds like torture.And it must have been. Not only physically painful, but with each day that he lost the ability to do something. Even whilst Lan Xichen hoped that he would recover, eventually he couldn’t lie to himself. And his heart broke when he accepted the bitter drink; and he let Jiang Cheng carry him when he could walk no further; and finally, he laid down in his bed, closed his eyes; and…Jiang Cheng cannot bear to imagine it.Instead, he remembers Lan Xichen, smiling through his tears as he handed him his ribbon. Give it to whom? Save it for when? He should have had all the time in the world to choose, to live, to love. What he wanted always mattered, even if he didn’t believe it did.“You would never have been a burden,” he whispers, “Not to me.”The burden is all the questions he cannot get rid of. All the answers he wishes he had.All he wants to know is that wherever Lan Xichen is, he is alright.And for him to come home.Can he come home though? There is no precedent for gods walking the earth. Only immortals. Isn’t it ridiculous that now he’s hoping that Lan Xichen is just an immortal? Isn’t it ridiculous that even with no guarantee that he will return, he waits and waits and—“Senior Jiang?” Jiang Cheng sighs. His throat sounds like broken glass. “What is it?”Jingyi ducks inside and waits for him to look. When he does, his feet become rooted to the ground. In his hand is… “I found this outside.”A letter. With shaking hands, Jiang Cheng peels it open and his heart sinks. It isn’t the poem. He scans the contents, finding that it is just one of their many written conversations. It is a reply to a previous jibe at Lan Xichen’s habit of waving at people (and things) like an overly-excited child.Initially, he only means to look it over, but then he finds himself reading everything and struggling to hold back a smile. In the letter, Lan Xichen explains that his habit of waving at things came from a certain junior disciple, whose outgoing personality meant that as a baby he would wave at everything that crossed his path.If Jingyi has read it, he doesn’t seem embarrassed at all (which probably means that he hasn’t). Trust Lan Xichen to leave him not knowing whether to laugh or cry. (What? he asked, to which Lan Xichen had shrugged and replied nothing, I just like making you laugh. By shaming your disciples? Learning about Jingyi and Sizhui’s failed attempts to steal fruit, he couldn’t stop a snort escaping. Lan Xichen only smiled at this. By any means.)Jiang Cheng reads over the letter again, ignoring how the other is looking at him like he knows something. Whatever he’s seeing is none of his concern.“What you said before,” Jingyi says, stealing his attention away from the tight sensation in his chest. “You’re right. It should be enough to trust that he wouldn’t abandon us. In the end, that's all that matters.” Afterwards, Jiang Cheng watches him through the window, following the trail of his forehead ribbon until it flickers out of sight. He wouldn’t abandon us. That's all that matters. Pressing his forehead to the glass, he breathes until a thick mist covers the world in white.It hasn’t snowed since that day.With constant rain and dark skies, it’s like living in a world without seasons. Without any distinction between the day and the night.
Like seeds dreaming beneath the snow, your heart dreams of spring.
The problem isn’t so much that one of them is stubborn, but that both of them are.Almost a week has passed, and every single fucking day, Lan Wangji has planted himself like a tree on the front steps and refused to budge until sundown. Jiang Cheng was irritated (even angered) by his behaviour at first, barely able to tolerate the man’s presence. This later turned to confusion, to grudging respect, to mild curiosity... to genuine concern. Because Lan Wangji never came any closer.Not once did he ask to come inside. He kept his distance, perhaps out of respect to Jiang Cheng's need for space. More likely a force of habit.Jiang Cheng couldn’t pretend he was unaffected by this.Watching the man come again and again awoke an odd sense of nostalgia. Thinking about how he would come here after his mother’s passing filled Jiang Cheng with a deep sadness. In a similar sense, he has always struggled with letting go. He had to wonder, could this be something they shared in common? The fact that they were always the ones waiting for the people they loved to return?His first instinct was to reject this possibility. Imagining sharing anything with Lan Wangji sounded completely absurd. Though they have been brothers-in-arms during the war, they are not friends. Whilst Lan Wangji has never said so aloud, he also hasn’t bothered to deny the fact that he disapproves of the type of person Jiang Cheng is. That, and most things about him. Also, there is the fact that no matter how far they have progressed, a part of Jiang Cheng still resents being replaced as Wei Wuxian’s right-hand. Though for the most part, he has moved past it, what person can accept being told they’re not good enough?It’s one thing to be aware of his shortcomings, it’s another to have them told to your face.This meant that for him and Lan Wangji, theirs was a journey made on two parallel paths, never to cross at any point beyond what was necessary.There are too many things scattered between them like a bed of thorns.For days they have been avoiding each other, much like oil and water. They have pretended not to see or hear one another, even though they were ten feet apart at most… but how childish are they behaving, sneaking around like this? Are they adults or not?! Even the juniors are fed up trying to get them to put aside their differences!There is really no good way to go about this. Jiang Cheng shoves open the door and marches out as if for battle. Lan Wangji only flits his gaze to the side when he comes to stand by him. At least he isn’t kneeling right on the doorstep. It would have been even more awkward if he had slammed the door in his face.He opens his mouth, but Lan Wangji beats him there first. “I am sorry.” Golden eyes hold his gaze for a moment before moving down to his neck—oh right.“It’s fine,” he replies, rubbing at the spot which Bichen pierced his skin. This exchange reminds Jiang Cheng of something Wei Wuxian said about his beloved husband in one of his letters. There’s no need for ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ between us. That’s what we’ve agreed. At the time he had rolled his eyes so hard he felt a rush of vertigo because this type of agreement was so typically Wei Wuxian. Maybe it is the extent of the losses the two have suffered that allows them to view the world this way, but Jiang Cheng has also lost a considerable amount and he cannot understand it at all. Of course, he knows why he can’t understand it. He isn’t like them. He isn’t selfless or forgiving, and in the end, he will never have what they have. Whilst thank you and sorry might not be needed between the happy couple, here it is essential. In every instance where either he or Lan Wangji mistake one another’s intentions, the only way forward is to each take some part of the blame.Because whilst they are not friends and they might never be friends, they can still stand together and look out in the same direction. They can share the same goals, and face the same enemies. After all, they have done this many times before.Jiang Cheng tightens his fingers around the bannister. “I can’t stay much longer.”Though the Spiders haven’t made a point of saying so, they are all aware that time is running out. Nie Huaisang can only delay things out to a certain point, but soon even he will lack the power to do anything. Jiang Cheng suspects that the only reason why he hasn’t been dragged out of the Cloud Recesses yet is because the people who want him are well aware that their accusations are complete and utter bullshit. Marching into the Cloud Recesses would be a sure-fire way to lose control of the situation. Bringing this to the attention of the Gusu Lan with no evidence to support themselves is pretty much asking to be denounced by the cultivation world's most righteous sect. In short: not a good idea at all.“If you must know,” Jiang Cheng adds, “I cannot take much more of this waiting.”Several times he has taken Sandu and flown up, higher and higher into the sky. Beyond the clouds there was nothing. He would sink back down to earth, breathless and shivering. Sometimes he would find the juniors clustered around the cold spring, playing their instruments and calling to the spirits for answers. In the dead of night, he would go alone to that place on the cliffside, pull his boots off and turn his face towards the breeze. There, he would quietly sing a lonesome song up to the stars.Lan Wangji dips his head in acknowledgement. Without meaning to, the questions come tumbling out. “How did you do it? How did you wait for thirteen years?”There is a brief moment where he can sense Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy flicker in surprise. Then it continues cycling as if it never stopped, and the man sinks down to sit on the step. At first, Jiang Cheng thinks he’s being ignored, but then Lan Wangji pats the space next to him. It’s too much of a coincidence, but it is the same rhythm that Lan Xichen used to beckon him over. Jiang Cheng goes to sit on the other side, leaving plenty of space between them. The day is nearing its end and a frigid gust whistles through the bare trees. Listening to the sounds of nature slowly drains away his agitation, replacing it with a fragile yet heavy stillness.
As adults, we like to think that after a certain amount of time things don't matter anymore. We depend so much on others forgetting that they've been wronged than seeking their forgiveness...
Sometimes he has wondered, what should matter then? What should count? The present that they live in, the future that they strive towards, or the past that brought them here? For so long he has been looking over his shoulder, valuing what has died over what has yet to live. And it’s a loss, isn’t it? To look behind at all those lost chances and not try for them again.Jiang Cheng turns to find Lan Wangji looking at him with his brow slightly furrowed and lips turned in a frown. This automatically has him scowling back. If the man isn’t going to make the effort to speak, why should he have to? As if hearing this, Lan Wangji’s expression clears, and he averts his gaze. “You ask how I did it,” he says. “But then I have to ask, how did you?” Jiang Cheng grips his knees, fighting the urge to run.
How did you wait for thirteen years?
How did he do it? By clinging onto sorrow and guilt, and making his stance against demonic cultivation abundantly clear. He waited not by waiting, but by filling the chasm Wei Wuxian left behind with enough resentment that he practically became a fierce corpse himself. Despite this... he clung onto the hope that someday he would be able to live without feeling his brother’s absence like a severed limb. How did he do it?Jiang Cheng, “It seems we both don’t have an answer.”Lan Wangji hums in agreement, something flickering in his eyes too fast for him to catch it. Jiang Cheng slouches a little, propping elbows on knees and letting his head hang between his shoulders. This is the point where he would have usually walked away, not wanting to sit through an awkward conversation with this annoyingly taciturn man. Instead, he crosses his ankles, leans back, and breathes in the scent of damp and rain.“Not everyone can do it.” Jiang Cheng nearly jumps out of his skin.Lan Wangji glances askance at him, half his face lost to shadows. He must sense his confusion, because he adds, “Not everyone can wait.”This man is truly an enigma. Jiang Cheng is lost on how to respond, and he ends up asking: “What else am I supposed to do?” “Others would have left. I thought that you might.”Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment? What does that even mean? Jiang Cheng blinks several times. “Huh.”“Gusu Lan Sect thanks you for your help and support.”Jiang Cheng waves him off. “No need. It was by my own choice.”In retrospect, he was always aware of how it might sound when he asked: how did you do it? How did Lan Wangji wait for Wei Wuxian’s return? Why would he ask for that advice if he were not also waiting in a similar respect?!It’s then that he remembers the way Jingyi was looking at him, and of course the Spiders know, and now it seems that Lan WangJi suspects him too, so… exactly how many people might be aware of how he feels regarding Lan Xichen? He thought the juniors were acting strangely, but he put that down to shock—fuck, does Wei Wuxian know?! Hindsight is like being slapped in the face, because after the incident with the tea Wei Wuxian pulled him aside. Most of their conversation is a blur to him now, but he still remembers: You’re worried about him. You seem to have gone above and beyond what I asked for. Well... shit.Suddenly Jiang Cheng wishes he could get sucked into the earth and die. “I have never understood your choices,” Lan Wangji confesses with utmost calm. “Until now.”“..."For once he is the one at a loss for words.Surely Lan Wangji must be used to people ‘admiring' his brother though. This can’t be the worst thing he’s ever discovered. He’s a fucking cut-sleeve himself! For goodness' sake—Lan Wangji, “I have never once tried to understand you.”Jiang Cheng nearly bites through his tongue. “I mean... neither have I.” Making mistakes, making assumptions, being too stubborn or proud to admit that you were wrong… no one alive can say they’ve never done one of these things in their youth or otherwise (not even the great Hanguang-Jun, it seems!). However, holding a grudge against a person for such things? It’s stupid because it isn’t as if he has ever truly hated Lan Wangji. He has never wished him harm, or at least, he didn't mean it when he told Wei Wuxian they would have been better off if he had left him to die.At the time he had still been reeling from the loss of his parents. He just wanted to be able to blame something for what had happened—Well, here it is. Back to wanting something to blame. The urge to fight whatever has taken Lan Xichen from them, which is impossible to smother. Jiang Cheng knows his core is sending out all sorts of killing intent, but the man beside him doesn't react at all. He understands. He must feel it too.Before they can move onto proper discussions though, there is one last thing Jiang Cheng feels the need to get off his chest. “We are no longer children, but it seems we still have much to learn.” He pauses, and then says, “Regarding what I said about you and your brother... even though it was months ago, I want to say sorry. I spoke without considering the situation.”In the end, does it matter why Lan Wangji decided to allow his brother to practise seclusion for a year? If it was Lan Xichen’s choice to do that, what could he do to deter him from that decision? Is it not the same as when Wei Wuxian chose to walk his narrow-plank path alone and Jiang Cheng did nothing to stop him?Lan Wangji, “I also attacked you without considering the situation.”Jiang Cheng shrugs. At the time, even with Bichen pressed against his throat, it wasn’t his life he was thinking about. He almost doesn’t believe it when Lan Wangji’s mouth twitches, eyes flashing with something that gives Jiang Cheng chills. “You and I are no longer children,” he says slowly, “But we were children once.”“...”How is it that with silence and stilted words he can barely understand him, but with a cryptic sentence like this… Jiang Cheng grimaces, turning to face the other way. We were children once. He doesn’t want to think about that, thank you very much. Who would have thought Lan Wangji would want to remember what had been an embarrassing time for both of them?“When you insisted on meeting with Brother, you ended up caught in the rain,” Lan Wangji says, tossing him another random statement. Jiang Cheng nods woodenly. Where is he going with this? “Do you know why I sent you Jingyi’s robes to wear?”Without a second thought, “Because you’re an asshole?”Lan Wangji smiles. Actually smiles. That’s the equivalent of him laughing! What the fuck?! “Whose robes do you think you borrowed when we were children?”When they were children? After ruining his robes with ink and dirt, after Lan Xichen carried him away to be cleaned up. He’s never really thought about it, but he was far too small to wear Lan Xichen’s clothes back then. But that must mean... “Y-You…”“They were never returned to me.” Lan Wangji doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by Jiang Cheng’s appalled stuttering. “I swore to never let anyone borrow my clothes again. I also made a point of remembering the Young Master Jiang, who nearly. Bit. My ear off.” “That was you?!” (Of course he knows it was him, but there’s no way he’s going to say that! Wei Wuxian used to tell him he was an awful liar, but fuck it—he’s got to try!) “I… I always assumed it was a random Lan disciple who attacked me.”Lan WangJi doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Brother introduced us. He wanted us to play.”Fuck. “Alright, fine! Fine, I remember! But you know what? You did attack me without considering the situation! There I was, minding my own business… anyway, you still have two ears, don't you?!”Lan Wangji sweeps back his hair, revealing two perfectly intact ears. What on earth has this conversation turned into? Jiang Cheng snorts, then lets out a bark of laughter. Really! Who would have thought that buried under his frigid exterior, Lan Wangji would be like this?! Granted his sense of humour is about as bad as his brother’s, and Lan Xichen has more of a tendency towards… he is more of a… it’s more like—Just like that, his laughter dies out. How strange it is to laugh when one is grieving. He has never felt such a feeling as this before. The last time he was left all alone to his grief, there wasn’t the chance for any lightness in between each period of mourning. It was darkness all the way through from dawn to dusk.“Here.”Jiang Cheng isn’t prepared for when a warm, wriggling thing is placed on his lap. Thank god he has good reflexes. The thing is very much alive. A red-eyed rabbit. When Lan Wangji retreats, Jiang Cheng cups his hands around its rump. After a few cautious minutes of snuffling and twitching, it settles down to chew on his sleeves. “What the fuck?”“Wei Ying says they help.”“Well, a dog would have been better... but thank you.” Jiang Cheng strokes the rabbit’s long ears, but can't help wondering where the hell Lan Wangji was hiding a rabbit on him? Maybe in his sleeves? He remembers Jingyi pulling out quite a number of items from his sleeves, so… wait a second, Jingyi. The theory. Lan Xichen. These are the things they should be talking about!The moment he opens his mouth, Lan Wangji says, “Jingyi told me—”“Fucking hell, are you a mind-reader?!” Seriously! Every time he is about to speak, Lan Wangji gets there first! Jiang Cheng can’t help bristling, though he forces himself to calm down when the rabbit starts twitching madly. “Alright, so you talked to him. Good. In which case… gods?”Lan Wangji nods. “Gods.”Jiang Cheng exhales through his teeth. “Admittedly that does complicate things, but what we do next—” “What about the myth?”“What about it?”Lan Wangji frowns. “The myth involves gods. You don't think that’s significant?”“It must be a coincidence.”“Would it make sense to believe it is a coincidence when everything seems connected?”Jiang Cheng decides to return the rabbit back to its master before he accidentally crushes it. He leaps off the steps onto the trampled grass. Striding a small distance away manages to take the edge off that urge to punch the closest thing, but again he feels the need to keep moving.Whilst Lan Wangji remains as still as a statue, he marches back and forth. Wasn’t it not long ago that Lan Wangji was adamant that none of this could be true? Whatever point set him off, he was against believing in any of it.In the same respect, Jiang Cheng’s weak spot seems to be the myth itself. He truly hates that dumb story with a passion. Something about it just rubs him the wrong way. On top of everything else, the juniors brought up—“You know what? Fine,” he snaps, stomping warmth back into his feet. “What's the plan then? How do we get him back?”Lan Wangji shifts a little. “When are you planning to leave?”What does that have to do with anything? “After we’re done dealing with this, I guess?” “What if there is nothing to be done? What if this was always meant to happen?”“That’s not possible.”“How can we even know that heaven exists?”"Where else would he have gone then? You saw it yourself. He shot up right into the fucking sky.” Jiang Cheng flings both arms out. “So tell me, where the fuck else could he be?”The rabbit shoots out of Lan Wangji’s lap and darts off into the undergrowth.“Firstly,” Lan Wangji says quietly, “We must consider the reason behind what is happening. If this is something the gods have decided, there must be an explanation for it.”Jiang Cheng bursts out with a laugh. “How can you be so calm about this? This is your brother we’re talking about! Shouldn't you want him back?”Lan Wangji stands up. “Brother is the one who reminded me that we need evidence before making a judgement. We cannot pursue anything without being absolutely certain.”How is it possible to be certain of anything right now? “None of this was ever meant to happen.” If there’s one thing he’s certain of, it’s this! “If it was he would have said so. If Lan Xichen was going to ascend, it would never have been like this. He wouldn’t have left us like this—” his mouth is suddenly sealed shut. Oh, fuck no.Zidian roars to life.Maybe, in the end, this is the most effective way for them to communicate and he just has to live with that. Not the worst thing in the world, to be fair.Through the haze of confusion and pent-up frustration, it’s hard to say what provoked them into this fight. All Jiang Cheng is aware of is the purple-white flash of his whip, the blue-silver glint of Bichen, and his qi surging through him like a tide. When Bichen meets with Sandu there is such anguish in that strike that it’s impossible to tell who it came from. The clash of metal rings with sorrow. It’s this sound which knocks him out of his battle-rage.They both return to the steps, this time sitting not as far apart. Now that Jiang Cheng is able to speak again, he has nothing to say. This impromptu spar did wonders to curb the itch under his skin. He doesn’t want to fight anymore (or at least, he doesn’t want to fight Lan Wangji). The heavens, though? Better fucking watch it. Jiang Cheng keeps one eye on the skies above, Zidian writhing around his knuckles. He never thought he’d be so eager to battle a god—“Here.”What is it? Another rabbit?When Jiang Cheng turns around, his heart nearly flies out of his chest. Lan Wangji is holding Shuoyue, his expression solemn. It doesn't occur to him what is about to happen until that famous sword is laid across his lap. Just like with the rabbit, he instinctively reaches to steady it, but there’s no need for that. The balance is impeccable. Shuoyue’s simple white scabbard is designed as elegantly as its master and appears almost identical to Bichen. The only real difference between them is Shuoyue’s tassel, which is stained dark brown with blood.Jiang Cheng swallows thickly. “But he left this to you.” Lan Xichen hasn’t wielded this sword in nearly two years, meaning that its spirituality has dwindled down to nothing. It appears no different to any mortal blade, and maybe it’s by his imagination, but overall it feels much heavier than it should.Lan Wangji gives him a look as if to say, and what has he left for you? Now he is really lost for words. No matter how many times he has heard how generous and selfless the great Hanguang-Jun could be, Jiang Cheng cannot recall him ever extending that kindness towards him. What has Lan Xichen given him? Where does he even start? Oh, but Lan Wangji doesn’t know, and he can’t ever know about the—“I can’t.” Jiang Cheng winces, hit by a wave of deja vu. “It’s not meant for me.”None of the things he has been given was meant for him. Isn’t it bad enough that he has Lan Xichen’s ribbon? Come to think of it, why didn’t Lan Xichen give it to his brother to keep? Jiang Cheng really cannot understand the choices Lan Xichen made, but he’s determined to respect his wishes. Why is Lan Wangji so determined to give Shuoyue to him anyway? He would never have been able to give Chenqing away. When Jin Guangyao was gathering the spoils of war, he made no mention of it to anyone.Though many times he wanted to burn it, break it into pieces, or bury it somewhere, in the end, he never did. It was kept safely hidden, but always within reach.“You want to fight?” Lan Wangji takes Shuoyue and swiftly unsheathes it. Jiang Cheng lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He can’t say what he would have done if it had sealed itself. “Shuoyue has only ever fought to defend or bring justice. Brother would never draw his sword against an innocent.”The bloody tassel swings between them, all the dirty secrets unmasked at Guanyin Temple dangling from its tattered fringe. It’s a heavy statement to make, but Jiang Cheng agrees. Whatever Jin Guangyao’s intentions in the moments prior to his death, he pushed Lan Xichen far beyond his limits. He left him with the burden of all his crimes, his blood on his hands, and his memory—Enough. That’s not important. That’s all in the past.What matters is figuring out why the hell is Lan Wangji saying all this, and giving Shuoyue back to him for safekeeping, as Lan Xichen intended. “If Shuoyue is to remain righteous, you should keep it then,” Jiang Cheng says, returning the snowy blade back to its sheath. Of course, when he turns to give it to Lan Wangji, the man is already halfway down the path. “What the fuck.”This is how it starts.Jiang Cheng cannot believe it. Here they are—two adults, fighting over who gets to keep a sword! It is utter mayhem. Completely ridiculous, especially given the situation. Wherever Lan Xichen is, he’s probably laughing at the sight of both of them running around like two children! Whilst Jiang Cheng is fast and relentless, Lan Wangji is equally as agile and stubborn. They are unfortunately well-matched.“Are you serious?” he sputters when Lan Wangji dodges a lunge, his expression supremely bored but his eyes bright with amusement. “You bastard!” Just when he is about to chase after him, a very familiar yelp cuts through the air. Jiang Cheng’s blood instantly freezes in his veins. In the blink of an eye, he changes direction, Lan Wangji right on his heels. Zidian is already shooting sparks as he draws energy from his core. Even before they reach the clearing, the clamour of panicked young voices instantly breaks the tension. Most juniors are taught to shut their mouths and focus on remaining calm if met with trouble. After a few minutes of listening to nothing but bickering, Jiang Cheng decides to convert his fear into righteous fury. Mark his words, these brats will learn the meaning of fear! Getting him all panicked for nothing! Someone’s asking for a broken leg!“—ow the hell did you find me here?” Jin Ling’s face is the first thing he sees upon entering the clearing. It goes from red to white the moment he spots Jiang Cheng there. Each junior goes wide-eyed and pale under Jiang Cheng’s penetrating glare. He turns to where Lan Wangji is assessing a small group of strangers and he has to do a double-take, because amongst the gathering—Is a woman! Alright, so logically he knows there must be women in Gusu Lan, but seeing one in this part of the mountain is still a bit of a shock. She doesn’t appear to be a Lan though, going by her… her purple robes? Beside him, Lan Wangji seems to be just as baffled by this, though his eyes are drawn to certain faces in particular. Does he know these people?Jiang Cheng gives them each another look, and—lo and behold, there at the front is Master Lu! Instantly, his eyes narrow in suspicion, even as the man smiles at him. What the hell is going on? Intruders in the Cloud Recesses? Wait a minute, hasn’t this happened before?“You,” he shouts at the same time as Jin Ling does.There is an awkward pause. Then the woman lets out a laugh. She is barefoot (in this weather?) and keeps dipping one foot in the pond as if tempted to jump right in. With her back turned, her purple robes and long loose hair has Jiang Cheng’s breath catching. When Jin Ling rushes over to her side, he finds it even more difficult to look away. Then the woman turns around, revealing a sweet heart-shaped face.Of course, it’s not who he thought it was. How could it possibly be her? Jiang Cheng bites his cheek, watching Jin Ling tug the woman away from the water. Why does Jin Ling seem so familiar with this stranger though? Most of the plants have gone dormant for the winter, so only a few small lotuses are left peeking above the water. The woman bends down to pick one—“No,” Jin Ling chides, pulling at her arm. “Come on, that’s stealing. Don’t do that.”“Stealing?” she snorts. “How can I steal what is already mine?”“Okaaay, but see this is… this is not how you should be behaving! Look, everyone is watching us!” Jin Ling hisses, growing increasingly embarrassed by all the attention. “Come on. These lotuses aren’t even worth picking. I can take you to Yunmeng later. Nothing compares to the lotuses from Yunmeng.”“Oh, young master, of course I know that!” she giggles, lifting her eyes to meet Jiang Cheng’s. “It’s well-known that only the loveliest lotuses can be found in Yunmeng.”…What the fuck? Even if he isn’t the best at picking up on cues, that smile is—is most inappropriate! Heat rises to his face, but Jiang Cheng focuses on giving his nephew a sharp look, “Who the fuck is this, Jin Ling?!”“No one, no one! She’s harmless, I swear!” Jin Ling manages to drag the woman away from the water, and leans closer to his uncle to whisper, “Uncle, I did what you said, and she was fine when I left her in Lanling! I… I really have no idea how she got here!”Did what he said? Jiang Cheng stares at the purple robes, and something about them triggers a memory. Now he remembers. A few months ago Jin Ling wrote to him asking advice about a woman who had been searching for her lost grandfather. Personally, I think she's mentally ill. She keeps doing really weird things, and nothing she says makes sense— “You,” he calls, biting back a flinch when the woman swings around to face him, “Explain yourself.”She nods a few times and then lets out another giggle. “My goodness, you are exactly as I imagined you’d be! Except that…” she sways forwards, forcing him backwards until he is right up against the water. Holy shit. She’s drunk! “Except that you are far more handsome!”“... Jin Ling!”“Y-Yes, Uncle!” The woman must be stronger than she looks because this time, even with Jin Ling pulling with all his strength she is able to hold her ground. “Calm down, He-guniang, Uncle isn’t really that handso—I mean, he’s busy! Very busy! He has no interest in such things!”“Oh? You think so?” He-guniang peers at Jiang Cheng, even when she eventually lets Jin Ling tow her away. “If you ask me, I would say he seems very interested in someon—”“Boss!”Oh, what now?Jiang Cheng whirls around, ready to let loose a barrage of orders. Instead, he finds himself dodging a fucking stampede. Both Linzhen and Minzhen are yelling, running after the donkey (Apple-something? And Wei Wuxian says he’s bad at naming things!). Riding the donkey is a pale wisp of a man. This old grandpa is clearly having the time of his life, urging the donkey to run circles around the gaggle of juniors and whooping at the top of his lungs. Of course, the intruders are all laughing uproariously at the scene, clapping their hands and cheering.Jiang Cheng scowls at Master Lu, but the man is of no help whatsoever. Doing a quick headcount, in total there are… five people.Lan Wangji meets Jiang Cheng with an equally puzzled look. Who on earth are these people?!“Lasso!” Minzhen yells after stopping to catch her breath. Linzhen lets out a groan of why didn’t we think of this earlier? and quickly ties her whip into a loop. After that, the donkey is brought to heel in a matter of seconds. The old man hops off as nimble as any of the juniors would be. He must be a cultivator to still be in such good condition. Are all of these people cultivators then?“Shīgōng, settle down! Settle down!” Master Lu chuckles merrily as he makes his way over. Another man joins them and pulls out a large fan, reminding Jiang Cheng strongly of Nie HuaiSang with this action. The three of them are tittering like little boys revelling in a good prank. The old man gives the donkey a fond pat as Sizhui comes to lead him away. “What a good steed!” he remarks, “Very nice, though perhaps not as convenient, nor as congenial as mine!”They’re drunk. All of them. Drunk!To be more accurate, they’re absolutely shit-faced. How the fuck have these drunkards wandered their way into the Cloud Recesses?!When Jiang Cheng sees Lan Wangji approaching the rowdy bunch, he breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not as if he is likely to allow this much ruckus to continue in the Cloud Recesses, surely—then the man walks right past. Well, fuck. Lan Wangji heads over to another elderly man stood at the sidelines. Though he was laughing along with the others before, his crumpled face has settled back into what is most likely a permanent glower.“Lao-zhongyi,” Lan Wangji greets. The man grunts, but other than that says nothing. “Lao Li, may I ask why you and your companions have come?”“We’re waiting,” Lao Li explains, squinting up at the sky. “Not long now. You’ll see.”A loud peal of laughter instantly causes Jiang Cheng’s already elevated blood pressure to sky-rocket. He turns just in time to see Wei Wuxian come strolling in with his arm slung over another man’s (wait, is that a man?) shoulder. Wen Ning follows behind, herding two other men.There were too many people five seconds ago. Now, as Jiang Cheng scuttles over to the side to avoid being trodden, he has to hold back the urge to string the lot of them up with Zidian. What nonsense! He catches Wei Wuxian’s eye and is given the tiniest shake of the head. Not a threat. Fuck. So he can’t even fight these people? How wonderful.“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji calls, gliding over to his husband. Seeing his arms wrapped around another must have provoked him, Jiang Cheng thinks, but is proven wrong when Lan Wangji merely nods at the… the youth. “A-Lan.”“Hanguang-Jun!” they squeak cheerfully, “Oh my, isn’t it busy? I apologise on behalf of my friends for the lack of—”“Explain.”For once Jiang Cheng is grateful for his brother-in-law’s ability to remain focused. Even whilst reeling Wei Wuxian close to his side, he keeps a steady gaze on all the going-ons around them. It’s not even that the number is that overwhelming. Jiang Cheng has handled crowds much larger than this. The problem is that each of these people is completely nuts.“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says. “ A-Lan was just telling me that the bright light when you-know-what happened is what summoned them—”“OH MY GOD!!”Everyone turns around.A loud slap rings in the silence. Jingyi is jumping up and down, smacking Sizhui’s arm like his life depends on it. The slapping sound, however, came from Sizhui slapping his own forehead. Jiang Cheng winces in sympathy. Going by the manic look in Jingyi’s eyes, this ought to be interesting.“Oh my god! I don’t believe it!” Jingyi squeals. “I know who you are!”Silence falls again. Then He-guniang starts giggling, which naturally sets the rest of the drunkards off again. Oh, for fuck’s sake! Lao Li raps his crutch on the ground twice. At once, the others swallow their mirth and straighten up. After grumbling to himself, he turns to Jingyi and gestures at him to continue. The boy sucks in a deep breath which seems to fill his entire body with chicken blood[3]. One by one, from left to right, he names them: “Han Xiangzi. Cao Guojiu. He Xiangu. Lu Dongbin. Zhongli Quan. Zhang Guo Lao. Lan Caihe.” Jingyi finally nods towards Lao Li, “And Li Tie Guai.”…the Bāxiān? The Eight Immortals? There are about five seconds where everyone stares in utter disbelief. Then chaos ensues.The juniors lose their collective minds. What child would not have heard of the Eight Immortals? They are a classic folktale, popular with everyone! Even Jiang Cheng remembers playing make-believe games as a boy and going on the Eight’s ‘adventures’ with Wei Wuxian and a gaggle of their fellow disciples. To his chagrin, he often got left with the role of He Xiangu, which he loathed with a passion, because then all he got for a weapon was a fucking lotus flower.Anyway. Jiang Cheng searches for his brother amongst the crowd, but of course, he is hanging from his husband's arm and cackling wildly. Lan Wangji shows not a hint of any emotion on his face, but for his own comfort, Jiang Cheng assumes he must be just as deeply shocked as he is.He’s shocked. He’s really shocked!Because the Eight Immortals are characters from a story! They are fictional! Even though several of them are said to have also been historical figures—as far as he knows, no one living has ever claimed to have seen them in the flesh!He wants to say it’s all nonsense, but the problem is that he cannot deny that there are indeed eight people, all of whom are horrifically boisterous, with cheeks flushed pink from alcohol. They are dressed in rags like beggars (The Beggars’ Sect? Wei Wuxian has mentioned that many times, perhaps for this very reason!). Their magic tools, the Eight Treasures, are plain for all to see—tucked away in rope belts, or in Master Lu’s (Lu Dongbin’s sword, oh my god!) case, strapped to his back. When Jiang Cheng’s assessment reaches He Xiangu, she even waves her pilfered lotus flower at him. What cheek!Jiang Cheng’s mind fills with profanity. Unholy screeching. The incoherent buzzing of cannot fucking believe this mixed with I must be going mad. Then he realises some of the screeching is external as well, because the juniors haven’t stopped screaming in delight for one goddamn seco—“SHUT! UP!” The only one left making noise is Wei Wuxian sniggering into his sleeve. Fucking hell, where to even start?! Jiang Cheng pinches the skin between his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. Then he jabs a finger at Li Tie Guai (holy shit, Iron Crutch Li!) since he seemed to be the only one able to exercise any control over the rest of them.“Explain to me. What,” he says, each word bitten off, “The ever-loving fuck. Is going on here?”The man has yet to stop watching the sky, and answers without even acknowledging him, “Do you even have to ask? Surely you must have a pretty good idea what’s happening by now.”Well, Lan Xichen has ascended. That much is known.But… does that mean—could it be that Lan Xichen is coming back? Right now? Today?! This second?!Is that why these people have gathered? He immediately tips his head back, scanning the clouds desperately for anything, but there is nothing else to see but clouds.Despite the storm having steadily died out over the past few days, there isn’t a patch of clear sky to be found. If heaven does indeed exist, it seems like it wants to remain permanently out of their reach. That won’t matter if Lan Xichen returns. Heaven can stay locked up for all he cares, unless… unless that’s what has been keeping Lan Xichen all this time?Jiang Cheng knows that compared to how long he’s waited for other things, a week is really nothing, but it was a long week spent stumbling around in the dark. Even now, there is no guarantee of anything. There is no certainty to be found until Lan Xichen is back with his two feet firmly on the ground. Jiang Cheng cannot afford to hope. He doesn’t want to hope. It’s the worst thing to hold out for something and end up not getting it—No.Can’t think like that.Jiang Cheng stretches his arms out, cracks his knuckles, shifts from foot to foot. Who cares how he looks? He’s two seconds away from gnashing his teeth to the gums! If the Eight Immortals have come… well, he still doesn’t know what they have to do with anything, but if they have come at this very moment, doesn’t that mean that something is imminent?It’s no surprise that the others seem to have realised this too. The juniors have gone from losing their shit to clutching each other or hugging themselves for comfort.Jiang Cheng would laugh if he could.Instead, he finds himself sinking back into that awful numbness. Why? He should be happy—no, he should be ecstatic. He should be like Xiao Ouyang, hopping around like a heavily concussed rabbit. Jiang Cheng cannot explain the cold dread that seeps into his bones. The cheerful sounds fade to nothing and his vision blurs. He stumbles backwards. Away from everyone. Blindly seeking an exit.When he bumps into a tree, Jiang Cheng digs his nails into the bark and leans against it, distantly aware that his heart is pounding but unable to feel it. Lao Li scoffs from somewhere. “I don’t get why all of you idiots are looking up there. I was only checking for rain.”The first droplet hits Jiang Cheng on the cheek. Then his nose, lips, and brow. Tilting his face up to the gentle shower, he finds the numbness spreading to his extremities. Why? What is making him so… Jiang Cheng bites his lip, eyes burning. Is it just that he’s too overwhelmed?“What do you mean?” Ouyang Zizhen shouts through the downpour. “Is Zewu-Jun not up there though?!”“Where do you think heaven is, boy?” Lao Li’s bushy brows knit together. “‘Up there’? Are you daft?” That means he is in heaven then. He’s been there all this time, which means this is not your average every-day ascension—“I would have thought the blazing light was enough to tell you it wasn’t normal,” Lao Li says, ducking under the same tree to join him. Jiang Cheng knows that he’s shaking, but it is as if his mind is completely still. “Young master, what troubles you?”What troubles him is that this all seems too easy. Too simple. Lan Xichen ascending, then coming back. He will return improved: body, mind and soul. It all sounds so wonderful. Too wonderful.What’s the catch?
If this is something the gods have decided, there must be an explanation for it.
What if this was always meant to happen?
What is the reason behind this? Why would someone want Lan Xichen to ascend? There must be a reason. Nothing in life comes without a price. One must always try to remember that. Jiang Cheng stares into Lao Li’s wizened face and finds himself wondering, is immortality really all that is being offered here? Or if it’s godhood, what does being a god entail?“Can this be undone?” he hears himself ask. “Can’t he… is there a way he can come back the way he was before?” Even saying this, his heart aches remembering all the months of suffering. It’s the first twinge of pain that has registered since he lost all feeling. The last thing he wants is for Lan Xichen to go through that again, but he can’t shake the feeling that something worse is coming, and it’s tied to all these shiny offerings of immortality and godhood.Lao Li scratches his chin. “The rice is cooked[4].”After a moment, Jiang Cheng walks out into the rain. Lao Li follows behind him.All the boys have been corralled into seeking shelter under the trees, but Lan Wangji stands tall by the pond, an umbrella held above him and his husband. If he didn’t know any better he would say he’d been expecting him, but he is no mind-reader here. Jiang Cheng already told him what to expect before. Hopefully, he hasn’t forgotten. Jiang Cheng has been carrying Shuoyue around ever since they fought without even thinking about it. He offers the sword to him again, but this time Lan Wangji doesn’t run. He doesn’t make any move to take it either. Jiang Cheng cannot see his expression clearly through the rain. Only his bright gold eyes are visible through the gloom. “After all this time,” he says, toneless yet accusing. “This is when you choose to leave." Not everyone can do it. Not everyone can wait.Jiang Cheng licks salt off his lips. It's with the bitterness of his own tears that sensation comes rushing back. All of a sudden his legs are as limp as paper, yet the ache in his chest is heavy and raw. Every drop of rain is sharp as a needle. He relishes the pain, which helps him to focus.He needs to leave. In the end, he is a coward, he is a fool, he is nothing.In the end, he cannot bear to face Lan Xichen because he is afraid.“Do whatever you need to do, young master,” Lao Li says gruffly, patting him on the back (nearly knocking him to his knees). “Just keep in mind that whatever choice you make, the consequences will be yours to bear alone.”He will come to regret this, he knows.“You’re right,” he says to Lan Wangji. Shuoyue weighs as much as the world in his hands. “I can’t do this. I’m not like you. When you see him… tell him that I’m sorry.”Lan Wangji doesn’t move a muscle. There he stands, watching him without saying a word. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth but lifts Shuoyue higher, his body trembling all over from the strain. Through the rain, he can hear something humming and the murmur of voices in the distance.He takes one step forwards—
Zzzzt!
Shuoyue goes flying out, leaving Jiang Cheng holding an empty scabbard.Not from the skies, not from any perceivable space. There is a glimmer of light that grows brighter and brighter, causing his soul to nearly fly out of his body. The air feels like it’s charged with lightning. Jiang Cheng leaps back, but there is nothing there.The light blinks out, and then—A hand grasps the back of his belt.“Tell him yourself.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"You’ve seen my descent. Now watch my rising."— Rumi
“Tell him yourself.”Whatever time lies between seeing and thinking, that fleeting moment grabs them all by the throat. They say seeing is believing, but this… what part of this is believable? One second there is Jiang Cheng preparing to run away, the next—the person they’ve all been waiting for emerges from the faintest glimmers of twilight. As if a star has fallen from the night’s sky, a thousand beams of light spread out, rippling across every surface. Unlike the blast of heat that stole him away, Lan Xichen returns with the contradictory stillness of snowfall. Lifting his head he lets out a shuddering sigh. After blinking a few times, he smiles.It is as though he has been gilded in moon-dust, yet also imbued with a deeper glow that seems to permeate his entire being. Whilst light shimmers off his skin, what shines from his core is something that remains felt but unseen. A radiance that echoes in the electric pulse of life’s rhythm, that trembles with the music of the world.And he is flying. Hovering mid-air, with nothing at all beneath his feet. Immortal is everyone’s first thought, but then they look at the Eight Immortals in all their rags and ruddy-faced drunkenness and are forced to reconsider this assessment. The Twin Jades have always been compared to gods. Could he be…?Meanwhile, the only person who has not yet seen him staggers to the side. It is this movement which startles Lan Xichen into action. The hand holding Jiang Cheng by the belt moves instantly, dragging the man back before he can take so much as one step. He goes as stiff as a cat held by its scruff, changing the previously awesome scene into one that is slightly more comical. With Shuoyue held in one hand and Jiang Cheng in the other, and Lan Xichen suspended above the ground, no one is really sure where they should look. Then Wei Wuxian lets out a cry of alarm, shocking several juniors so badly that they topple over. The voice from before.It was not Lan Xichen.“You!” Wei Wuxian points a finger, and all turn around to look.It is a wonder that no one has noticed him yet. Looming in the shadows—two fiery, golden eyes. In an instant, more than a dozen swords are drawn. Lan Xichen holds up his hand. Two words: “Stand down.” All the juniors put their swords away at once, murmuring “Yes, Zewu-Jun,” with absolute trust. The supposed threat reveals themselves then. Stepping forwards with a cocky grin, he twirls a long staff from hand to hand before setting it down. Li Tie Guai lets out a deep sigh, and several of the other Immortals start sniggering under their breaths. Lan Wangji remains ready and alert, even if his brother has called for them to disarm. This is the man they saw on their travels—the same one who beat up those hooligans alongside Li Tie Guai (or Lao Li, as they knew him back then).At the same time, Jiang Cheng also recognises this as the man he saw when he woke after his extremely drunken night. It’s the same scruffy guy who threw the peach at him!Wei Wuxian’s reaction is most peculiar though. Face as pale as a sheet and eyes blown open wide. All the hair on the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck stands up. For Wei Wuxian to be afraid, this man must be dangerous! Could he be an enemy? Some person seeking revenge against Yiling Laozu?“You...” Wei Wuxian licks his lips, hands curling and uncurling by his sides. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”The man’s smile sharpens. “Not very well I’ll admit, but we are acquainted.”Wei Wuxian, “Where have I seen you?”“Where? You tell me where.” Spinning his staff again, “Or perhaps tell me how. Or tell me when.”“Oh, stop messing around!” Li Tie Guai growls, smacking the ground with his crutch. “Just introduce yourself properly, for god’s sake.”Jiang Cheng tries to wriggle his way free, but with Lan Xichen holding onto him he only manages to stumble a few steps away. This close he can feel each of his knuckles pressed against his spine. It takes a concerted effort not to react. Shimmering light dances at the edge of his vision, but he tries his best to pay attention to this fucking weirdo instead.And thank god he does, because that's when things start getting even weirder.The man balances his staff on one end on the ground and it stands perfectly upright under its own power. A spiritual tool, perhaps (which means he must be a cultivator then?). Then he unwraps his headscarf, revealing a… a golden band around his head? What is a beggar doing with such a th—Fucking hell.No one is prepared. When the thick belt around his waist. Starts moving. It unwinds itself, and whilst this is happening, the man… starts shrinking?!“What the fuck?!” Jiang Cheng sputters, but then the hand on his belt moves to his shoulder. His grip is strong. Steadying. Just like that, he doesn’t know what to do. For months he has been the one providing support, but now it’s possible that Lan Xichen has the power to topple mountains with just the push of a finger—“Wanyin, it’s alright,” he says. “Trust me. He’s a friend.”A friend? The words sat right at the tip of his tongue, but then a warm breath gusts against his cheek. The scent of sandalwood follows, and… then it starts to sink in. Lan Xichen is back. He’s here. His heart thumps faster and faster, both with excitement and dread. He came back. Jiang Cheng shivers. “How can you know that for sure?”Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to ask, but Lan Xichen doesn’t seem bothered. He squeezes Jiang Cheng’s shoulder gently. “Because he is the one who brought me back.”Spinning around, Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to say something, but then someone else calls out: “Xichen?”Everyone turns again. When did Lan Qiren arrive? Even with everyone’s eyes on him, he cannot straighten his posture. Bent under a seemingly staggering weight, the man is more dishevelled than they’ve ever seen him, but pays no attention to anything or anyone as he stumbles over with single-minded focus. “Xichen,” Lan Qiren’s voice quavers. “You… you came back?”Lan Xichen tosses Shuoyue at Jiang Cheng, and just in time too! He catches the old man in his arms, letting out a tearful laugh. “Yes shūfu, I’m home.”
Home.
Jiang Cheng returns Lan Xichen’s sword to its scabbard. Instead of deadened metal, Shuoyue feels distinctly alive again. Brimming with spiritual energy that glints off its ice-like blade. It almost feels weightless in his hands.He tries to focus on the sword, but listening to Lan Qiren murmuring “A-Huan” again and again makes looking elsewhere it rather difficult.This man, well-known for his strict and unbending personality, was never prone to public displays of affection, and yet—here he was, weeping in front of a crowd. Clinging to his nephew desperately, without a hint of shame. Lan Wangji comes to hover protectively at their side, at least until Lan Xichen drags him into the huddle. He twists around to shoot a smile at Jiang Cheng over his uncle’s shoulder.Instead of returning his smile, he gives Lan Xichen a sweeping once-over, going from top-to-toe. He can’t stop staring at his snowy white boots which remain suspended mid-air. Resplendent in immaculate white robes and flying under his own power, he truly looks like a… like a… Jiang Cheng quickly averts his gaze, blinking rapidly as a lump rises to his throat.
(
What if this was always meant to happen?)
Something withers inside him. Cold and suffocating. The weight of his mortal bones.After a moment, he turns to the others. There is still this matter to deal with.Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, hasn’t looked away for a second. The man’s body has shrunk by almost two feet, his form contorted to a less-than-human shape. The belt is not actually a belt. It’s... a tail!? That crawling sensation he felt before returns with a vengeance. The cold sting of adrenaline spiking his heart rate. This man is not a man at all, but a— Surprisingly it isn’t Jingyi, but Jin Ling who yells: “Monkey King!”…… Monkey King?!As soon as he says this, all the juniors explode with excitement. Ouyang Zizhen’s eyes look like they’re about to roll out of his head and his face resembles a plum.Wei Wuxian can hardly hear any of this over the roar of blood rushing through his skull, because… the dream. The one he’s been having again and again. Burning yellow eyes. Since when have you ever let someone tell you what to do? A cup smacked out of his hands. What are you doing? Spit that out! There is no denying it. Those flame-like eyes and the odd sense of familiarity between them. With his infamous staff, Rúyì Jīngū Bàng[1], and the golden circlet shining on his brow. With his tail lashing around, clearly expressing his mirth. “Sun Wu Kong,” Wei Wuxian breathes. “Kong?”The Monkey King dips his head. “At your service, young master.”Sun Wu Kong. You can call me boss too if you want, though I also go by Kong.Wei Wuxian’s jaw drops. “But h-how? Why—”“At his service?” Jiang Cheng demands, pointing at his brother. “His service? Or ours? Or…” He doesn’t dare look at Lan Xichen again. Monkey King. Dear god. But if the Eight Immortals exist in real life… fuck it. Why not? What isn’t possible anymore? Striding forwards, he asks, “What purpose do you have for being here? What do you have to gain from—”Lan Xichen, “Wanyin.”“—helping us? What’s in it for you?” Shrugging off Lan Xichen’s hold, Jiang Cheng clenches his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. It doesn’t make any sense. What reason would the Monkey King, Sun Wu Kong himself, have for coming to their aid? What is it that he is even helping them with? It’s unacceptable how little information they have! “Answer me!” Sun Wu Kong clicks his tongue. “Is that any way to speak to a god, young master?”Lan Xichen’s fingers are gentle, even as they dig into his collarbone. That careful touch somehow manages to cleave its way through a dizzying wave of anger, allowing him to take in a much-needed breath. Because he is the one who brought me back. Jiang Cheng works his jaw until it cracks loose, giving his heart some time to settle. Giving himself some room to think… because this is madness.The Eight Immortals. The fucking Monkey King. What the hell is going on?!“Technically you aren’t a god,” Li Tie Guai points out.“Not officially, but technically I am, in all the ways that count,” the Monkey King replies, twirling Rúyì Bàng between his hands. “Alright so, where do we start? There really isn’t any time to waste.”“Brother.”Lan Wangji steps forwards, circling around Sun Wu Kong stiffly to stand between him and his husband. His expression has gone from unreadable to mildly irritated, which means he must be moments away from killing a man (or a god, as it were). Only when he turns towards his brother, does he lose some of that composure. “Wangji,” Lan Xichen smiles fondly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Do you remember that place that we used to go to? That path that I showed you all those years ago. Both of us have always wondered where it was leading us to, but now I have found our answer.”“By ‘path’,” Wei Wuxian interrupts, swiftly explaining (in an attempt to prevent Jiang Cheng becoming too riled up again), “They are talking about a special meditation technique that Brother Xichen has cultivated himself.”“No,” Lan Qiren gasps, staring with wide eyes. “Xichen, please tell me you didn’t…”“I don’t understand,” Jiang Cheng admits, breathing deeply to maintain some calm. “So he has cultivated his own meditation technique. What does that have to do with this, or with heaven?”Sun Wu Kong huffs. “Use your brain, boy. That path that Young Master Lan found is the only one he’s ever been able to walk. Such an anomaly is an indication of someone’s fate. Every time that he has meditated, which—granted, is many—he’s been cultivating in the presence of the gods. What do you think that means?”Jiang Cheng halts. I believe you can cultivate with anything or even nothing at all. After all, what else is needed for meditation, other than a steady heart and open mind? Lan Wangji inhales sharply. “But… I also—”Sun Wu Kong, “Different paths occupying the same realm, but different parts of it. Isn’t it that whilst you would find yourself standing on a seashore, your brother would be up on a mountain? Think of mountain springs. Think of rivers. Think of the dào.” His nostrils flare, eyes flashing brighter for a split second. “The moment we call it a river it is not a river, but just for a minute—imagine that it is.”In any other place this metaphor would lack meaning, but in the Cloud Recesses where they are taught cultivation using nature as a reflection of the greater cosmos. 'Imagine that it is a river' is enough to send Lan Wangji back to his youth. The first time he questioned the path they were wandering, he was met with utter confusion. That can't be right, A-Huan had argued. They must all lead to the same place. That’s how cultivation works. Like rivers flowing to the sea. Lan Xichen would always find himself on a mountain, and suddenly Lan Wangji remembers. “Rain,” he says, his voice barely above that of a whisper. “Brother described it as summer rain.”“Yes,” Lan Xichen nods. “Because that is what it felt like to me. Life-giving rain,” he replies, something flickering in his eyes. “The blessing of which connects the heavens to the earth.”“Heaven,” Lan Wangji echoes.The rain that falls on the mountains, that seeps into the rivers, that flows down to the sea… that would suggest Lan Xichen literally found the source of cultivation, but as Sun Wu Kong just said: once you try to define the dào, it is no longer the dào. It exists before anything else, and cannot be conceived by the mind. Only by not searching for it can it be found, and on and on it goes. Explanations that push far beyond the boundaries set by life.“But what does it mean that it is an indication of Zewu-Jun’s fate?” Sizhui asks, standing tall even when Sun Wu Kong swivels around to look at him. His voice wavers a little, but that’s understandable. Bravest of all is the child who would ask: “What exactly is that fate?”“It means that he is no stranger to heaven, and that his fate has always been tied to it.” Sun Wu Kong pauses, then lets out a sigh. “You would probably accept the truth better from the mouth of someone you trust. Now that he is returned to you, let him speak of the matter himself.”Jiang Cheng feels Lan Xichen’s thumb press briefly against his shoulder blade. Then he moves away. The wintry breeze that wafts over him is sweet with sandalwood and mint. Why is it that in spite of the fact that Lan Xichen has come back, part of him still misses him? Perhaps it isn’t absence that feeds the hunger that’s writhing in his chest, but the fact that he yearns for what he knows he cannot have, even when it is within his reach. Lan Xichen’s feet finally touch the ground, and he walks to the centre where he may be heard more easily.When his gaze sweeps over the crowd of people, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and feels it pass over him. What terrible news does he have to deliver? What happened to him? He’s back, but is he really… if there isn’t time to waste, why is it taking him so long to speak? Unable to resist it any longer, he sneaks a glance, and… Lan Xichen is watching him. Is he waiting for something? But why—
Do I not even deserve your acknowledgement?
Stung by the memory of his own words, Jiang Cheng presses his lips together and forces himself to give Lan Xichen his full attention. (You deserve much more than that.) No matter how much he dreads hearing what he has to say, this is much bigger than him or what he wants. Lan Xichen tilts his head, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. “Very well, Dàshèng[2],” he says after this, turning to bow towards Sun Wu Kong. “In which case, let’s go from the beginning…” He does not, in fact, go from ‘the beginning’.If he were to do so, he would have to reveal that his ascension was not as simple as him falling asleep and waking up in a different place. The truth is that he never actually fell asleep, because… well, because Jiang Cheng stayed. Long past the time he should have left—he stayed, and it meant everything. When Jiang Cheng started to sing, he knew sleep would be impossible.Singing with a voice as clear as a river and as deep and gentle as the night itself, Lan Xichen was utterly overwhelmed, and the more he listened, the more he was unable to stop. It took far too long for him to realise that this song. This is… Close your eyes, Jiang Cheng murmured. There was just enough light to reveal the tear marks streaking his cheeks. Even when he was crying he looked fierce. Beautiful, Lan Xichen thought, wanting to say so aloud. Wanting to burn the image of him into his mind forever. Jiang Cheng was turned facing to the side though, and he knew he wouldn’t want to be seen like this. It was with this thought that Lan Xichen closed his eyes.But listening to him, it felt like he was drowning. As if the current that had swept him along finally decided to pull him under, claiming him completely. The only sensations left to him were the warmth of Jiang Cheng’s hand and his spiritual energy flowing between them in an endless stream… when Jiang Cheng finally untangled their fingers, Lan Xichen lay there unable to move or think.He was supposed to be sleeping.Something was pushed into his palm, which he instantly recognised by its shape. He almost didn’t notice the kiss that was pressed to his forehead, too shocked by Jiang Cheng giving him his bell (his Jiang sect bell?) that he could hardly believe it. This was… this was—At the sound of his footsteps fading away, it occurred to him that this was it. Lan Xichen’s eyes fluttered open and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. That this was to be their ending, the point at which their paths would diverge. That this was all that there could be between them, and not for lack of devotion. What madness was it that they could both love so deeply and never speak of it? There’s no loss there when there’s nothing to lose—oh, but there was. There was so much. Between all that was said and not said—(so much potential, waiting to be developed. It's a seed that's waiting to be grown, Jiang Wanyin. All it needs is a little time and patience, and it could bloom into something truly spectacular)—there was everything. Should he have told him? Would it have become a burden? Would it have made any difference at all to have been honest with himself? Between that letter, and that poem… Lan Xichen blinked but his eyes kept filling with tears. Letting Jiang Cheng leave like that without saying anything. He had his reasons, but did they really matter? Lan Xichen stared up at the ceiling through blurry eyes. Surely he must know.Otherwise, that meant… otherwise, he would—Gripping the silver bell tightly, lungs stuttering as he struggled for breath. How many times had he asked himself: was this his punishment? Was this how he was to pay for his mistakes? He chose seclusion, he chose to bear the consequences of his sworn brother’s crimes… but leaving his family and friends behind? That was never part of it. They had to know that none of this was by his choice. Lan Xichen smiled through a sob. Then another came which caused him to convulse. He felt something shatter inside. Shards of ice splintering his heart. Licking dry lips, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of blood. This was really it then. How long does he have left? Minutes? Seconds?In the end, there wasn’t his life flashing before his eyes. There was a song wrapping itself around his frozen limbs.There was a voice murmuring close your eyes, and so he did. He squeezed the bell, glad it wasn’t made out of something that could break. Instead, it rattled in his hand as it shook, letting out a sweet chime… his last thoughts? Thank you for writing, even though you doubted your talent. Thank you for staying, even if you had to leave. Thank you, Jiang Cheng, for everything. I— Outside, he heard footsteps. Wangji. He sobbed again. Thank you, dìdì, for never losing hope. A horrible thought came to him. This was their mother’s house. This was where she died. Fear gripped his heart. Wangji please, don’t come in here. Look away. Don’t watch. Don’t— And then, it happened.It was as if someone plunged their hand into his chest and pulled until his ribs caved in. With a sickening crack, his spine snapped upwards. Lan Xichen cried out as his body was torn apart and set aflame. Light exploded from all seven orifices[3]. Choking on fire. Drowning in blood. Something took root inside him, shooting up past his throat to muffle his screams—If it had been death, Lan Xichen might have known better what to expect. But it wasn’t.It wasn’t. Often, it has been said that thunder and lightning would indicate when a person was about to ascend. To be filled with divine light (to literally become enlightened) might be considered a more pleasant experience by others for whom the process had been intentional. In his opinion, however, it was the vital difference between being pushed off a precipice and jumping off it yourself.In the latter case, the fall would be expected. You would jump knowing the consequences. For him, there was no transition between searing flesh and sudden weightlessness. It was a good thing he was used to pain.So, here is where he begins his explanation.The first thing Lan Xichen did upon returning to the world was cough. He half expected he would be hacking up blood or bone, or at the very least fire, but all that came out were wisps of blue-white mist. Lan Xichen watched them curl and dissipate into the air. Spiritual energy. How long had it been since he was able to use it? And to manifest it to the point of visibility… after coughing out the excess, he spun around to try and figure out where he was.Most might think that after being rebuilt from nothing, a person would feel renewed and refreshed. Reborn, he’d read from old cultivation texts, those who transcend will return to a life separate from the chaos of mortality; with no attachments, they live in an effortless existence… but it wasn’t like that. It was taking him tremendous effort not to panic. And he felt terrible. Nothing at all like what had been described.Lan Xichen pressed a hand to his chest and then spent a few minutes patting himself all over checking all four limbs.Who cared how he looked? It was hardly a priority, but he was also very thankful for the fact he was wearing clothes! Moments ago, his body was literally torn apart! Could anyone blame him for feeling a little unsettled?! Whatever power had peeled the flesh off his bones had built him back exactly the way he was—Except that they hadn’t. There was no denying that he was different. He could feel it deep inside. Immortality. Lan Xichen almost couldn’t believe it, but his soul sang of eternity. Music, which echoed through him without end. Needing something to do he tied the bell to his belt, making sure to loop it twice like how Jiang Cheng did it. Then he looked at his surroundings and his first assessment was that… well, this definitely wasn’t earth.Heaven? he wondered, watching a hazy sheet of clouds drifting serenely across the ground. When the air had cleared, he saw in the distance: countless palaces, lustrous in pearlescent white, and pavilions made entirely of gold. It was this which gave him a shock. Golden pavilions. Lan Xichen’s breath caught at their magnificence. One couldn’t help but be reminded of Carp Tower. He wondered what the reaction would be when he told A-Yao—oh. Lan Xichen bit his lip. Right. What was it? Two years now? Two years, and yet… there still were (and would always be) these moments of forgetfulness. It was at this moment that he saw a small figure approaching. The boy (girl?) stopped a short distance away and quickly gave him a hand-fist salute. “Welcome, Zewu-Jun! What a pleasure it is to meet you!”Lan Xichen looked at them for a moment. Then he smiled. He had to wonder, how did this person know him by name?Of course, he didn’t say this aloud and returned the salute as pleasantly as he could.Instead of introducing themselves, his host went on to speak about some sort of meeting… and honestly, he would have been able to pay more attention if it weren’t for all the distractions around them. The strange birds dancing around in the sky, the glittering streams that flowed freely around walkways, and everywhere there were clouds painted in colours that he’d never seen before in nature.“But this can’t be right,” Lan Xichen muttered to himself, trailing after the youth when they beckoned him to follow. “The fact that I am here doesn’t make any sense.”Weren’t immortals meant to wander the earth? In which case, what was he doing up here?Lan Xichen wasn’t able to shake off the thought that something was amiss. Perhaps part of that was down to him feeling horribly out-of-place. Even with his core fully restored and his body as light as a feather, he had never felt so felt heavy-footed and ungainly in his life before. With the brilliance of the moonlit clouds and the silver city hovering amongst them, this was an entirely different world altogether.It was as they were approaching the gates that Lan Xichen slowed his step. “I've been here before,” he said to no one. In fact, the more he looked, the more the scene tugged at his memory. That pond was nearly identical to the one outside his mother’s house, only it was much bigger. Glancing up from the limpid waters, and his stomach dropped. There was a forest. “And over there is where…” Over there was where he would find himself every time that he meditated. Over there was his 'special place'. And if he were to walk through those trees, he was almost certain he would find a clearing twenty paces ahead. It was where, as a child, he would throw up his arms and run about without a care in the world, twirling under heavy sheets of warm, summer rain. Uncle, I’m meditating! He would throw his head back laughing, and think it felt so… heavenly. … Oh.Lan Xichen quickly turned back to the pond. Even though it didn’t evoke any specific memories from childhood, there was just something about it. There were lotuses nodding in the breeze, sparkling with dew and glowing in the moonlight. Speaking of the moon, it was either very close or looked like it was. He had never seen one this big before, stretched so far across the sky that it filled his vision.Was it night time, then? But it was evening when he… when he ascended. One had to wonder, did heaven really exist above the clouds? Just as he was thinking this, a movement across the water caught his eye. A cloud peeled off the edge of the water, floating away in a curl of dazzling colour. He had to squint to see that on the other side of the pond was a woman. Her back was turned, and her arms were moving side to side. It looked like she was possibly making something.Before he could decipher that rhythm, yet another thing stole his attention.This time it came first as the sound of buzzing. Lan Xichen twisted just in time for a dragonfly to zip straight past him. A thought also danced across his mind like that dragonfly over the water, but he failed to grasp it in time because there were more. The buzzing rose to fill the air, the sound growing to the point that he could almost pick out a tune. He had never seen so many dragonflies in his life.Lan Xichen recoiled when one came to hover near his face, but then it flew across, and suddenly there was a swarm of them flying in perfect synchrony. The way they moved was like a school of fish in the sea. Occasionally he thought he could see a shape. The tall antlers of a stag, the curved talons of an eagle… but then it would slip away. He was so entranced watching them that it was without any warning that— “Ah?!” —he found himself poked with a stick?!“Ah? What ‘ah’?!” The man (his assailant!!) let out a loud scoff. Looking at him, Lan Xichen’s first thought was: what is a beggar doing in heaven? Then again, looks could be deceiving, and who was to say who was or wasn’t welcome in heaven? Maybe he wasn’t going to be so out-of-place here after all.Then he looked a little closer.This scruffy old man had a hunched back, messy beard, and stout figure. On top of that, the expression he was making had Lan Xichen wondering if anything could please him. Despite all this, he radiated spiritual energy and was clearly an immortal. When he noticed the string of gourds and rusty iron crutch in his hand… he wanted to laugh. This was too much! Instead, he put on his best smile. “Li Tie Guai, I assume?” Well, why not? If heaven exists, why the hell not?!“Hrnn…” Li Tie Guai squinted at him. “Call me Lao Li.” Then he swivelled around, scowling at everything. “Alright now, come on. Making us wait like this! Tsk! Especially when the rest of those idiots are actually on time—”“Excuse me. Did you say you’ve been waiting for me?” Again that prickling sensation returned. With such a new body, alertness was like needles dragged across his skin. “May I ask wh—”“Not now. Later,” Lao Li snapped, bushy brows knit together. “But no, it’s not you who is making us wait.” His face darkened, but Lan Xichen deduced his anger really wasn’t aimed towards him. He purses his lips, then pats Lan Xichen’s elbow. “Come on, lad. You can ask all your questions once we’re inside.”Lan Xichen cast a quick glance around and then followed him.He was going on blind instinct here. This was Li Tie Guai. A literary figure. Someone whose adventures he had read about as a child. If he couldn't trust one of his heroes, who then could he trust? He kept his opinions to himself all throughout their walk. Even when it became clear they were headed to one of the larger palaces in the area, Lan Xichen chose to accept this without question.What else could he do when faced with so many bizarre, impossible things one after another like this?“This way,” Lao Li said, roughly pushing him ahead. “Don’t worry. He’s not here yet.”‘He’? So the one they are waiting for is a—Lan Xichen somehow managed not to trip over his feet, and as soon as he regained his footing, a loud cheer came from the side. Old habits die hard, as proven by his hand reaching towards his hip where Shuoyue ought to be. Looks truly are deceiving, because one shove from an old man was enough to knock the wind out of him.“Alright,” Lao Li patted him again on the back (knocking another cough out of him), “We should probably get you up-to-date before things get completely out of hand—hey! Who the… who the fuck brought out the wine?! Do you idiots think this is some sort of a party?!”Once again, Lan Xichen found himself gasping for breath, but out of instinct, he recoiled as a wine jar came sailing towards them. Lao Li caught it with one hand and growled. Before he could say anything, a tall man called out, “It’s an experiment! Zewu-Jun, one can’t help but wonder whether immortality can improve alcohol resistance! Would you care to try?”Lao Li hurled the jar back. “He would not! All of you, stop this right now!”“Thank you, but ah… no thank you,” Lan Xichen wheezed out, bracing hands on knees. The group of people were the Eight Immortals. Seeing them in the flesh, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If there was one thing he did know, it was that Jingyi would love this whereas Jiang Cheng would most definitely not.Lan Xichen pushed himself up and turned around slowly to take in the grandeur of the place. If he was being honest, whilst the gold and ivory were very nice, he much preferred the simplicity of the view outdoors. Already he missed the refreshing light of the moon, the sound of running water, and—“Anyway, you do know who we all are, right?” Lao Li ushered him over to a seat, and the other Immortals immediately gathered around them. Lan Xichen blinked a few times but nodded, hoping it would convince him enough. Who knew if being slapped a third time would break his spine or not?! “Then we’re here to tell you—congratulations! You passed the test. Welcome to heaven!”Lan Xichen, “…”Lao Li’s overly bright smile vanished in an instant. “Exactly.”Lan Xichen, “Test? What test?”“This,” Lao Li gestured at him, “Was exactly what I was talking about. I’ve been against this right from the start. Have I not said—”“Yes, you have said many, many times before, my friend,” Han Xiangzi sighed, tapping his flute against his palm. “And all of us have agreed. Lack of knowledge makes this whole business questionable. Nevertheless, it was the task we were given.”“Excuse me,” Lan Xichen interrupts, ignoring the tiny voice in his head (which sounds a lot like Uncle), “But what test? What task?”Lao Li explained, “We were entrusted with the task of presiding over your heavenly tribulation[4], and so we have been watching you closely over the past couple years.”Lan Xichen frowned slightly. Watching him closely? Whilst he was in seclusion? How was that possible? Thinking over the past two years, there was the year following the Guanyin Temple incident which he spent in complete solitude. There were no visitors aside from Wangji and shūfu, until his health began to deteriorate and he required more care. Things only really began to change when—“Even before that,” Lao Li continued, “You were already being watched by heaven. Since birth, you have been marked for godhood.”His thoughts stopped there, disappearing at that one word. Godhood? Lan Xichen was very glad to be sitting down. All this time he’d been wondering what he was doing in heaven. It would make sense if he were a god! He hadn’t even wrapped his head around being immortal, but godhood?! “There must be some kind of mistake. I’m not—”“Such things are fated, young master,” Zhongli Quan said whilst gently wafting him with his fan (Lan Xichen could barely contain his panic. Was that not… wasn’t his magic tool meant for resurrecting the dead?!). “Before the existence of heaven and earth, it must have been written that after however many incarnations your soul would rise to godhood.”“And not just any godhood,” Lao Li added, swinging out with his crutch. This sent a blast of air towards the windows, blowing aside the curtains and drapes. Silvery moonlight poured inside, dragging with it the darkness of the night. "Observe."Lan Xichen shuddered at the draft and then realised that that wasn’t moonlight.That was the swarm. The dragonflies. They swirled in a lazy arc, almost appearing to fly in a formation. Lan Xichen tried his best to identify what shape they were depicting but it kept changing, their movements growing faster. Then the buzzing sounds reached a frequency that made him almost feel dizzy, a fever pitch striking at his heart. His core ached. Spiritual energy swelled up inside him, rising to meet it, and—Oh.Lan Xichen gasped. “Is that…”“It’s not often that a man becomes a dragon, but then most would agree you have always been a dragon among men[5].” Lao Li motioned towards the loose form rippling through the air. Each dragonfly took the place of a shimmering scale along a long snake-like body. “These creatures are said to bear the souls of dragons. They were your heralds, young master. They came to warn you of your fate. To fall as a man, and rise as a dragon.”What breath he had was stolen as memories came out of nowhere. Every instance, every single time he’d been visited by dragonflies. The very first one which died under his care and disappeared without a trace. He never understood why they came so often to the hanshi, nor how they were around out of season, but if they were trying to warn him… Lan Xichen squeezed his eyes shut. To fall as a man, and rise as a dragon. “What does that even mean?”“Dragon gods are eligible to become dragon kings eventually, though that is often also predetermined by fate. Considering your ascension happened so early on in your life though, it’s possible that it could happen—”“No, not that. What does it mean? How did this happen? I’m not—” Lan Xichen swallowed. They came to warn you of your fate. The dragonflies dispersed back into a shapeless swarm. The fact he was named Lán Huàn. To dissipate. Since birth, you have been marked for godhood. “Why me?”“We could spend the rest of eternity asking ourselves why this, why that.” Zhang Guo Lao was the one who spoke this time, his weathered voice soothing Lan Xichen’s raw edges. “In the end, there is no reason for why we are who we are. If you doubt your worthiness, there is no measurement for such a thing. The simple answer is that you were chosen.”All of a sudden, Lan Xichen remembered where he had seen the pond from before, and that woman sat there too… they were both from that dream! (—running his hands through smoky hair, being held so tight he could hardly breathe. Are you a fairy? There was something hidden in the water, but it was impossible to see. The water kept rippling each time her tears fell, disturbing the surface. Why are you crying? Please forgive me. Her chest shook with restrained sobs. It’s all my fault. There's no way to stop it. He’s chosen you now.[6]) Lan Xichen, “Someone chose me to be… a dragon?” “No, no, ah shīgōng, you’re confusing him. Let me explain.” Lao Li exhaled loudly, pinching his nose. “Your fate to become a dragon god was nobody’s choice. That is your path. Why do you think your meditation has always lead you here? The fact it was the only path you can walk was precisely for this reason. What grandpa here is referring to is—” Pak! Something fell, rolling across the floor. A scroll?The gathering broke apart. Faster than a blink, all of the Eight Immortals had their weapons out. Then by the next blink, they were all groaning and tucking them back away. A small bent creature was crouched on the windowsill. Lan Xichen was quite startled to see it fly straight across the room in a single leap. It was a monkey. All of the childhood stories (which he once read to a solemn young A-Zhan, and later read to a much more excited pair of Mini Jades) he knew of came rushing back all at once. “Sun Wu Kong,” he croaked, sliding from his chair to the floor. Bowing lowly, “Dà Hóuwáng—”“Oh, get up.” Sun Wu Kong was not overall very large. Even kneeling, he was taller the Great Monkey King. Despite this, he didn’t need to be any larger to prove his superiority. Most stories proclaimed him to be unequalled to most deities and foes alike. He struck the ground twice with his staff, then used that end to prod Lan Xichen in the chest. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”Lan Xichen returned to his seat, his heart thundering in his chest. The Monkey King paid the rest of the Immortals no mind, blazing yellow eyes focused only on him. “D… Dàshèng, what—”“I heard that old fat coot over there stuttering over an explanation. Time is of the essence though, and I’m in no mood to wait any longer.” Clicking his tongue, “Let me explain what they mean by you being ‘chosen’. So we are told, it was the same person who oh-so-kindly suggested I drag that fool Tang Sanzang all the way to the West, who chose you.” He touched the gold band on his forehead. “The same person who gave me this.”Lan Xichen could only stare. Was there no end to this rabbit-hole of a situation?! “Guanyin?!”Sun Wu Kong crossed his arms, grumbling to himself. “Apparently she favours you and has been watching you for the better part of your life. Supposedly she even put in a good word for you with the Emperor—”“Wait.” Lan Xichen completely lost the ability to string a sentence together. “Explain please. What?”“There’s nothing to explain. Our Lady admires your compassionate heart,” He Xiangu said, pouring another cup of wine. “Your ability to overcome sorrow without becoming resentful has earned her respect. The Emperor even wishes for you to become a disciple in her court.”“Oh, so that’s the excuse he’s decided to go with?” Sun Wu Kong hummed, his tail curling and uncurling. “Interesting.”Lao Li narrowed his eyes. “It’s the truth.”“Yes, it is,” he agreed easily, “But is it all of it?”Lan Xichen wasn’t listening. His mind felt stretched to the point of snapping. He was reeling at the thought of becoming a god. Not only that, but a dragon god. Not only that, but favoured by the goddess Guanyin! “But I don’t understand. If she has been watching me, then… where was she? Whenever I have been…”Where was she when he was suffering?There have been so many times where he has turned to prayer to cope. Begging for guidance when he was at a loss for what to do. Late at night, when he curled around his baby brother and cried into his pillow for relief. During the war, when he prayed for sleep and peace from his nightmares. And in seclusion, when he… Lan Xichen could hardly remember what he did that year other than mourn until his heart felt broken beyond repair.If she truly favoured him, why did she let him suffer? Why did she never intervene? Where was her mercy when he truly needed it?(Suddenly he was thrown back decades to a hidden cave in a mountain. A little boy kicking a stone statue. Stupid Goddess! I hate you, I hate you! The young Jiang heir who mistook him for a fairy. Who hears the cries of the world, huh? You don’t hear shit, Lady! I pray to you every day, so why is everyone suffering?!)“Suffering is part of the soul’s journey towards immortality,” Lao Li said, eyes lowered and oddly contrite. “To transcend requires that you face suffering unjust treatment without complaint and continue living without resentment. Cultivation only aids so much as helping one to rid themselves of the Three Poisons and to prepare the body…”Again, he stopped listening. Or to be more specific, at the mention of ‘The Three Poisons’, Lan Xichen’s thoughts turned towards one particular person, for whom that was his namesake. He couldn’t understand it.Why was it Jiang Cheng was to blame when the Three Poisons plagued him? Though it wasn’t what they tended to talk about, he knew of the struggle Jiang Cheng had always faced in measuring up against his high-flying brother. How between that and his parents’ feud, he was left starving for attention. Being a young sect leader, how he was always forced to prove his worth. He was left without much pride in anything but his family’s name, and thus greed became necessity. It was hunger for stability. For recognition. For protection. For love.Anger or hatred were interchangeable, and both came from a lifetime’s worth of grief. All the losses, so painful that he could no longer contain it. So much suffering that anger became every action, every thought... and he lost part of himself in everything that he had to do to survive.And what of delusion? What of ignorance?Could a person make good choices when they lacked understanding? Even with all the existing knowledge one might have, there were too many things in the world to consider. What was right or wrong was never as clear-cut as black and white.Lan Xichen would always maintain that one's conduct lay within oneself and depended on where one's heart was directed. Jiang Cheng confessed that had he had known everything, even then he couldn’t say whether it would have made any difference. All of this, Lan Xichen understood very well. It was human to struggle, to make mistakes, and live to regret making them.“Pardon me,” he said, cutting Lao Li off mid-lecture. “But this judgement is not sound. I am not yet free of The Poisons. I haven’t practised cultivation for almost two years. None of the reasons you have given me make any sense.”Instead of being angry, Lao Li’s mouth twitches. “Oh? Explain.”Lan Xichen pursed his lips. “Regarding the Poisons, if you have been watching me since my seclusion, you will know that I have yet to rid myself of attachment. I remain very affected by my recent mistakes. That first year, I have little memory of what I actually did. Even now, there is no peace in my heart to be found when I think of them.”Of A-Yao weeping as he begged him to understand. Of Da-ge who had been suffering for thirteen long years whilst he lived on blissfully unaware… just thinking of these two things will make his eyes hot and his heart cold, and whatever closure he may have been about to achieve would slip through his hands like smoke.“I have suffered many times in my life, and every time there has been anger.” Just because they were taught not to show their emotions freely didn’t mean they had none. “If you really have been watching me, you would know this. I am not the person you seem to think I am.”“Really?” Lao Li asked, sounding amused.“Really. For example,” Lan Xichen said, smiling pleasantly. “I am quite angry right now.”“…”Sun Wu Kong muffled a cackle. “Nevertheless, you are fated for godhood,” Lu Dongbin countered. “And the goddess herself—”Can Guojiu, “Your actions need not be overt so long as you fulfil the criteria. Even things such as forsaking mortal food and allowing your grief to run its course… you do realise that both of these actions count as removing yourself from earthly attachments?”“I accept my actions might have been interpreted that way,” Lan Xichen said tightly. “But it was never my intention—”“Alright, enough! You can argue this back and forth, and it won’t make any difference,” Sun Wu Kong snarled. The forgotten scroll flew up into his hand, and he held it out to Lan Xichen. “Here, read this. Make sure you read it thoroughly, understand? Trust me, you don't want to look stupid in front of Tiān Gōng. The bastard will never let you forget it…”Tiān Gōng? The Heavenly Grandfather. The Emperor even wishes for you to become a disciple of her court. Lan Xichen’s mind stuttered as he took in the mark of the Jade Emperor. A gold dragon was curled around the scroll. Under his thumb it uncoiled itself, causing him to suck in a breath of cold air. “The Jade Emperor... wants to see me?”Lao Li snorted. “Well, of course. This type of promotion would require an audience with the Emperor. Who did you think we were waiting for?” If he was being honest, after Sun Wu Kong arrived, he thought that he’d been the one they’d been waiting for. Not the Jade Emperor! Instead of answering him, Lan Xichen read through the scroll. The beat of his heart came to resemble a hummingbird’s wing. What was described was really quite simple, but the terms, the contract agreement, and all of it sounded absurd. “He will be accepted into Ninth Heaven,” he read aloud, “Where he may await his new master, Our Lady, the Goddess Guanshiyin for further instruction.” Lifting his head, he repeated: “Ninth Heaven.”It was known that Ninth Heaven was the most exalted, most inaccessible, and least populated heaven in the universe. Only the Jade Emperor and a select few could journey in and out of that furthermost region. Not much was known about that mysterious realm, other than this. “Whenever the Lady Guanyin decides to join heaven, she will reside in Ninth Heaven,” Lao Li explained. “But considering that she made a vow to remain on earth until all suffering has ended... that might take quite a while.”Which meant he would have to wait in the Ninth Heaven for an undetermined length of time, waiting to serve the Lady Guanyin, and… for exactly how long would he be waiting?“I don’t want this,” Lan Xichen said quietly, but firmly. “I did not agree to this.”“Admittedly, this will be the first time a dragon has flown up to Ninth Heaven,” Sun Wu Kong said, sprawled comfortably across the floor. “Rumours say dragons come down from that place, delivered by the Goddess Xuannü herself. Ha! Wouldn’t it be funny if you actually went up there? I wonder what she’d say—”“If?” Lan Xichen desperately latched onto that ‘if’. “You mean I don’t have to?”Sun Wu Kong shrugged. “Depends.”“That’s what this meeting is for,” Lao Li explained, “Because whilst some things are decided by fate, there is sometimes room for negotiation. You have the right to present your case to Tiān Gōng, and he has an obligation to listen to you. Nothing has been decided yet.”“And yet I have ascended.” Lan Xichen flinched when the scroll dragon curled around his fingers. It was warm as if it were alive. “And yet I am to become a god.” He wanted to close his eyes and wake up back at home. This was madness. Utter madness. “Why would any of you think I was ready for such a thing? Have none of you seen the errors I have made?”The same reply was given, “Some things are decided.” Lan Xichen didn’t even move, but a wave of anger caused him to breathe deeply.And suddenly the whole palace began to shake. “Whoa!” one of the Immortals cried, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care which one of them it was! “Calm down! Can’t you see what you’re doing?!”The sound of the Monkey King hooting with laughter was grating on his sensitive ears, yet spiritual energy continued to cycle with each exhale. If there were a mirror around, Lan Xichen would have seen blue light shrouding his body like a second skin. All his life he had been told to control his emotions. Maybe their forehead ribbons were truly a device for regulating themselves, because without it… there was a high possibility he might actually destroy the palace!“I don’t want to stay here.” Lan Xichen was trembling all over. “I can’t stay here. I’m not ready.”“Whether you’re ready or not, it’s already happened. You have ascended. Listen to me,” Lao Li leapt forwards to grab his shoulders. Instantly the ice-cold flame inside him was smothered out. Lan Xichen gasped, swaying on his feet. “There’s no going back now, child,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice, “There is only going forwards. Think carefully about what you want. Think—why is it that you cannot accept this offer?” Because they need me, was his first thought, but then… haven’t these past two years proven that he could easily be replaced? Between Wangji and Uncle, the sect was well-cared for. The only issue the elders really had with him was about not providing a blood heir before it was too late. The juniors were spoilt for choice on seniors and teachers—Was he not needed anymore?“If you can think of even one good reason, it could be enough.”His heart sank.The less he was able to do things, the less he and his opinions seemed to matter. All he provided his sect and family was another person to care for. Someone to worry about. Someone to mourn. Another burden. What good was he to anyone? What use was he?Would anyone even want him back?
(A-Huan, please. Just find yourself and then come home.)
(You have done so much for me, brother. You give so much of yourself to others. It is the world that has failed you, not the other way around. You are not useless.)
(Bobo just you wait, I’ll bring you a whole barrel of persimmons!)
Would they even—
(If it's you, we will always worry.)
But he didn't want them to worry. He didn't want them to mourn. He just wanted—
Sorry? What are you sorry for? Don’t be ridiculous.
Lan Xichen's tears spilt over.
You could never be a burden.
The bell trembled against his palm. That sound cleared the fog from his mind, and suddenly he knew what to do.“Ah, have you thought of something then?”After a moment, he smiled. When Lan Xichen finds an extremely excited nephew gripping at his sleeves, he decides to pause for a second. Simply going through everything he experienced had him returning to a semi-panicked state, so it was a relief to have Jingyi snapping him out of it. Even his small weight swinging from his elbow was enough to remind him again of… of gravity. Of the earth beneath his feet. Of his life, his home right here.All of this has him fondly patting the boy on his head.“Oh my god, this… this is amazing!!” Jingyi squeals, bouncing on his toes. Lan Xichen can’t resist patting him a few more times. His excitement is really too contagious. “A dragon! A god? Oh my god! What happened next?!” That was what he always used to ask as a toddler. What happened next? Lan Xichen’s smile wavers. “Zewu-Jun?” Jingyi tugs at his sleeve again. Perhaps he is patting him a little too hard.Sun Wu Kong clears his throat, and he tries his best not to blush. Before he can think to speak though, Jiang Cheng steps forwards. There is no choice but to look at him, so Lan Xichen does and—blue, he thinks, because right then, his eyes are so very blue. Jiang Cheng frowns. “What is it? What happened?” That is when Lan Xichen cannot help it. Heat rushes to his cheeks, staining them pink. Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Xichen-ge?”There is a flutter of black cloth. “Oh? Xichen… ge?” Lan Xichen can already tell what is going to happen the moment he spots Wei Wuxian lurking at the corner of his eye. Jiang Cheng reacts without thinking. An elbow flies out to clip his brother in the face. The resounding crack of bone on bone makes everyone flinch. Jiang Cheng scowls on instinct. “What about it?”Wei Wuxian takes this all in his stride. He rubs at the lump on his forehead, staggering around yet otherwise completely unfazed. “Nothing, nothing! Just… you’re calling him Xichen-ge now?” he repeats, eyes twinkling. “Huh, that’s new.”Jiang Cheng whirls around. “So what if I call him Xichen-ge? If Huaisang can do that and you can do that, why can’t I do that? Huh? What makes it so—why are you smiling like that? Wei Wuxian?!” Wei Wuxian’s grin only widens in response. “No reason.”“Brother,” Wangji says, smoothly stepping between the two to reach him. Thank god for Wangji. Jiang Cheng’s face has gone red, and Wei Wuxian keeps sending him coy looks. Lan Xichen desperately turns to his brother who blinks at him with concern. “What was your reason?”WangJi is only asking for the benefit of their audience. From the tone of his voice, he already knows.“Uncle,” Sizhui calls from where he is busy propping up a sputtering Lan Qiren. “Did you really get to meet the Jade Emperor?” Lan Xichen stares at them for a moment, unblinking. Then he says, “I did.” One might have expected there to be more ceremony surrounding the occasion, but things actually proceeded very quickly and without much fuss at all. Tiān Gōng arrived in a swirl of magnificent robes, but other than that he looked much the same as most other elders you might find at court. Indeed, he didn’t recognise which old master was the Emperor until the others remained standing.At first, one might assume that his humble appearance would help to put one’s mind at ease, but Lan Xichen found the incongruity of the situation rather disturbing.Such a high-level god sitting behind a desk like your average everyday scholar… despite his reservations, Lan Xichen made sure to kowtow low enough that he could see his own dilated pupils reflected in the floor. When he rose to his knees, it gave him a bitter taste in his mouth when the Emperor barely glanced at him before gesturing for the scroll. He was surprisingly steady when handing it over. After just a few seconds of reading, he spoke. “Do you accept these terms?”Lan Xichen sucked in a breath, bowing low again. “Your Majesty, respectfully this one does not... this one cannot accept this offer.”Tiān Gōng sighed, but rolled up the parchment. “That’s all very well, but this was put forwards a long time ago, and is therefore well on its way towards being fully processed.”Lan Xichen almost swallowed his tongue in shock. When the Emperor left a long enough pause, he realised he was perhaps expected to respond. “I… pardon?”“The request that I made was on behalf of the Lady Guanyin,” the Emperor explained slowly, drumming his fingers on the table, “And as such, it is well on its way to being formalised.”“But… I thought I had a choice?” Lan Xichen turned to face Sun Wu Kong and almost did a double-take. The Monkey King had grown at least two feet in height! “Didn't you say I had a choice, or did I misunderstand?”Sun Wu Kong was idly plucking at his lip. “Well, technically there is still a choice to be made.”“What are you doing here, Hóuwáng?” The Emperor pinched his nose and sounded tired just from having to address the Monkey King in person. Going by the stories, that reaction didn’t come as much of a surprise. “This meeting is meant only for the one in question, the council and myself. Have you come here to meddle? On what grounds do you—”“Yes, yes, whatever,” the Monkey King drawled, flapping his hand. “I came because I wanted to be here. Also, I’m technically not not allowed to be here. Also… I was invited.”“Invited?” The Emperor leaned back in his chair. “Invited by whom?”As soon as he said this the doors flew open.Lan Xichen immediately shuffled backwards on his knees, head bowed and eyes lowered in respect. He was not quite quick enough to miss the gold trim and red shoes of this individual. The spiritual energy pouring from this person was wild and untamed, the precise strikes of each footstep rang with authority. He bent down again, and with his forehead pressed to the ground, he could feel the vibrations straight through to his skull.“Rise.”Unlike her Esteemed Husband, the Lady Xiwangmu proudly presented herself as the Empress of Heaven. An elaborate headdress cast her face in shadow, and embedded in the nebulous mass of her hair were a scattering of pearls that resembled a constellation of stars. Despite all this dazzling beauty, Xiwangmu’s piercing gaze was more than enough to have him fearing for his life. Then Lan Xichen noticed it wasn’t him she was looking at— “Shí Hóu!” With a voice like thunder, Lan Xichen was rocked back from the force. Xiwangmu advanced on her victim, a prowling tigress with her prey. “You stupid monkey! Did you really think you could get away with that? Stealing from me again? Shameless!”Sun Wu Kong blinked a few times. “Well… I did manage to get away with it, didn’t I?”Xiwangmu’s dark rage condensed into a swirling singularity. “You—!”“My Lady, please,” the Emperor groaned, rubbing his temples. “Don’t bother with this one. You know what he’s like. There’s no point—”“But this is unacceptable.” She levelled the end of her fan at Sun Wu Kong’s smug face. “It takes three thousand years for just one of them to grow!”Beside Lan Xichen, Lan Caihe smacked their forehead. They must have noticed his utter confusion, because they muttered, “It’s the damn peaches again.”How bizarre it was to have such a legendary item be complained about as if it were any other pilfered fruit. Lan Caihe could only be talking about the Peaches of Immortality! Lan Xichen bit his lip as the scolding continued, barely able to contain a burst of incredulous laughter. This was as unbelievable as it was entertaining.Sun Wu Kong, “Actually, that depends on which one I took. It could be the six thousand year peach or the nine thousand year peach… it’s hard to tell one from another, you know? Peaches tend to look the same after you’ve eaten so many—”“Shameless! What did you do with it?” Xiwangmu demanded, poking him in the cheek. “Tell me, did you eat it?”The monkey nipped at the fan, giggling to himself. “Why would I eat it? Haven’t I eaten enough things to become as immortal as can be? Even if I ate it, what do you want me to do? Spit it out? Ha!”“My Lady,” the Emperor interrupted again, raising a placating hand when she glared at him. “Pardon me, dear wife, but… am I correct in thinking you weren’t the one who invited Sun Wu Kong here?” She scoffed. “Why would I invite him here? I could scold him anywhere in or under heaven!”The Emperor’s face grew even more haggard. “Then that means it must be—”“Father.”Lan Xichen immediately dropped down again, recognising yet another great presence had arrived.This time the woman’s footsteps were gentle. Barefoot. Her voice was unusually low and hoarse, with the rasp of someone who did not speak often. His immediate thought was: is this Guanyin? and the possibility of that had him sinking lower to the floor. Would he have to beg for his freedom? Would she grant it? He had his reason now. He just needed the right opportunity to present it—But then again, she said ‘father’. A hand landed on his shoulder. That gentle touch had him nearly jumping out of his skin. Then Lan Xichen went completely still as the goddess (for she must have been a goddess) bent down to whisper in his ear, “Don’t be afraid. I am by your side.”She walked past to stand in front of him. Sheltered behind her back, Lan Xichen felt incomparably secure. With long hair trailing all the way down to the floor… she appeared oddly familiar, though he couldn’t recall where he might have seen her. “Your Majesty,” she said calmly. “I believe that the Young Master Lan has already given his answer.”Several emotions flit over the Emperor’s face. “And as I have already explained to him, the request has been put forwards. It has my seal. It is done.” He spread his hands open. “What do you want me to do? It is the dào, may it always guide us—”“I will argue this point until I cease to exist: the dào is different for all of us. His path is his path.” The goddess waved a hand, beckoning to Lan Xichen. “Come here, child.”Lan Xichen stared for a moment. By this gesture, she seemed not only to be claiming to be on his side but was literally offering him her support. Realising he would be a fool not to take it, he quickly scrambled over. Her hand sought his shoulder again, this time squeezing to lend him strength. “Speak then,” the Emperor commanded.Lan Xichen raised his head. “Your Majesty, if we are to discuss my fate, therein lies the reason why I cannot stay in heaven.”The Emperor halted his murmuring council with a cutting motion. “Are you suggesting that your fate is tied to earth?”Lan Xichen swallowed and then tipped his hand over, presenting the bell for all to see. It shone like a pearl in his palm, the silk tassel whispering against his fingers. He couldn’t help admiring the intricate engravings, rubbing his thumb over the fine metalwork the same way Jiang Cheng would often do. He could almost feel it, or at least imagine the warmth left behind from his touch, the dullness from years of wear… and right then, he wanted—He wanted—“I know of a legend,” he heard himself say. In his mind, he was back in a snowy landscape. Above him, Jiang Cheng was listening intently, and so he repeated what he said to him back then: “In which my ancestor, Lan An, asked for his children to be blessed by the heavens. That someday we might find our fated person and then be honoured together as paired souls, never to be separated.”This statement brought a heavy silence. Even Xiwangmu stopped muttering under her breath. Lan Xichen wasn't sure what it was he’d done to deserve this type of reaction but kept his thoughts wrapped around the bell. In truth, he wanted to hide it in his sleeve, away from so many prying eyes… but this was his reason. The best reason a person could have.“What makes you so certain that his wish was granted?” one council member asked.The moment she spoke, the Emperor batted her question aside. His expression was unreadable, even whilst he peered down at him. “Do you mean to say that the owner of this bell is your fated person? Are you quite certain?”
Do you believe it really happened though? About the blessing and… and everything else?
Lan Xichen smiled. “I have never been so certain.”Absurdly, Sun Wu Kong burst out laughing. It wasn’t a nice sound at all, and harsh enough to send chills running down his spine. Xiwangmu slapped the monkey over the head with her fan. Lao Li sighed loudly and gave Lan Xichen an apologetic look. He tried his best to overlook that outburst and continued: “With regards to this blessing, we cannot be parted. Whether my fate is to be a dragon god or not, my fate is also tied to him.”“Oh young master, you missed out a vital part of that blessing,” Sun Wu Kong chuckled. The hand on Lan Xichen's shoulder tightened, and his scalp prickled with foreboding. “Your ancestor, Lan An, also wished for his children to experience ‘the same joy’ that he had shared with his wife. Do you know who that person was?”Several things began to click into place. “Thank you, Dàshèng, I can take it from here.” The goddess patted his shoulder and then stepped forwards again. “I must now ask you all to consider this blessing. Remember what was promised, and the agreement that was made. The wish was granted. As the gods Lan An prayed to, you must now agree to honour the blessing or else concede to my terms.”This sent the council into a flutter again. The Emperor glared at his daughter. “Watch your tone.”(His daughter, who was—)“The condition of the agreement,” she said, “Was that in exchange for my services, you would honour my husband's wish.”
My husband’s wish.
It was then that Lan Xichen turned to look at her. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found.Bright gold eyes. Lan Xichen remembers seeing eyes just like these blink open for the very first time. They always said it was an unusual shade. Unnatural. And it was. Everything from the shape of them to their vibrant colour was exactly like Wangji’s. She was the woman from his dream, the maiden sat by the pond, the cultivator who married Lan An, the daughter of Yù Huáng Shàngdì and Xīwángmǔ— She was the Goddess Zhinü from The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.Those familiar eyes beheld him, even as she continued to address the others. “I have done my part. Now it’s your turn to do yours, and let this child return home—”“Where that ‘blessing’ may properly take effect?” Sun Wu Kong huffed in amusement as his comment once again stirred up discontent. “Can it really be called a blessing if we consider what type of ending awaits him? How long would you give him until that ‘same joy’ comes calling?”But if Lan An was Zhinü’s husband, if he was the Cowherd, in the end, weren’t they separated? And the bridge… Lan Xichen heard a sneering voice, in his mind’s eye, he saw a mouth curl with disgust. Fuck the bridge. Words thrown out like daggers. The bridge means nothing. It’s a tragic story, okay? “And you call me shameless when you disguise this curse as a blessing,” the Monkey King sneered. “Offering godhood as if there were no strings attached. You would tie him to a fate that ends in misery.”
It’s only tragedies that are spoken of again and again. No one likes a happy ending.
Zhinü pursed her lips but seemed to be in agreement.Clearly Sun Wu Kong wasn’t attacking her with these accusations.The Jade Emperor didn’t react much, but when he didn’t give the Monkey King an answer, that suggested he knew who was to blame. This was the moment when he began to see where the lines were drawn. It was startling to see the room divided, and to realise that he was not, in fact, on the side of heaven’s most beloved sovereign. The Eight Immortals stood to the side, possibly taking a neutral stance (possibly too drunk to care). Lan Xichen ran over the myth in his head again and again, desperately trying to understand.Strings attached? An agreement? There was definitely more to this than met the eye. More than what the stories told. What was his part in all of this though? What did he have to do with anything? Lan Xichen eyed the scroll which sat innocently on the desk. It has my seal. It is done. Then it dawned on him that whilst fate may be decided, maybe it was not originally meant to have happened this way—“Alright, alright!” The Emperor knocked on the table before he could go further with that thought. “In the interest of keeping things civil, I call to adjourn this meeting for now. For the time being, I hereby allow Lan Xichen one month on earth with his spouse, after which he will be summoned for a meeting with the Lady Guanyin. Ultimately she will be the one to decide his fate.”“A month?” What should we have agreed on? The words rang in his ears, burning his eyes with grief. With so much regret. I don’t even know what to think anymore. Was a month too long or not long enough? Lan Xichen honestly thought they deserved much longer. “Why a month?”One council member explained: “An hour here currently corresponds to a day on earth. His Majesty has agreed to wait one full day in heaven which gives you just under one month, or twenty-four days, on earth.” The man paused, and then added, “With how the planets are positioned though, that may even amount to less…”“Twenty-four days, give or take,” the Emperor concluded. “Decide what it is you want to be done, but bear in mind: fate cannot be changed, nor can immortality be revoked. I suggest you get your affairs in order. Court adjourned.”With that, Lan Xichen remained kneeling on the floor, nails digging into his thighs as his mind flew about in panic. The room emptied but he wasn’t aware of it. All he was thinking was that… before a month was too long, but now it was no way near long enough. Get your affairs in order. Twenty-four days. How was he supposed to—“Come on, let’s get you up,” a voice said and helped lift him onto his feet. A sturdy arm wrapped around his shoulders, guiding him out of the palace.In all likelihood, if Guanyin truly wanted him to join her court, there will be nothing he can do to stop it from happening. It was obvious the goddess’ word was revered in heaven, even if she wasn’t one of their residents. The fact the Jade Emperor took her recommendation so seriously didn’t give him much hope, and if that was his fate, if it was his path—what could he really do about it?That the Emperor gave him one day’s worth of his time. A single day. It was that which made him realise how small and insignificant he really was in the grand scheme of things. Even here. Especially here. What he was given was nothing more than a pittance—The next thing he knew, they were sitting by the pond. When he turned to Zhinü, she was gazing solemnly at the water. Lan Xichen followed her line of sight to… oh, that was earth! That was home. It seemed to float under a screen of shimmering light, a veil of clouds both reflected and suspended between heaven and earth. It was so beautiful, and… so very far away.“A-Huan,” she said, and—suddenly he was crying. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t ask for any of this. Zhinü placed a hand on his cheek, stroking his face almost exactly how his mother used to. This brought on a fresh wave of tears. “Have you ever disobeyed an order before?” The question shocked him enough that he hiccupped. “W-What?”“Have you ever not done what was asked of you?”Lan Xichen stared. “Surely you aren't asking me to disobey heaven’s orders?”“I understand,” she said, “That you are a Sect Leader, a firstborn son, taught to be respectful and honest, with a compassionate heart… you must lead as an example to others, and therefore every instinct tells you to follow the rules and abide by them.”He could only nod at all of this. Every Gusu Lan disciple was taught to uphold these principles and of course: to be righteous. Zhinü smiled, but he knew that smile. He wore it often enough himself. “Let me tell you something, A-Huan. I was also a good daughter, hardworking and respectful, yet I broke the rules just once, and now—look at me.” She gestured around. “Look where I am.”Lan Xichen bit his lip, nodding again. He understood.It was never her fault that she fell in love, and paid the price—but god, he kept getting distracted by how much she looked like Wangji. Thinking of his brother, who also broke the rules for his fated person, who paid the price with blood and tears and thirteen years of waiting… there was some sort of pattern here. Even with their father, and with many other people he knew, there was breaking the rules and then punishment. And you call me shameless when you disguise this curse as a blessing. Could it be a curse? A heaven-made curse?“Son of mine,” she whispered, cupping his face between roughened hands. “Listen to me now. Sometimes you won’t want to believe it, other times you won’t be able to, but your life belongs to you alone and follows whatever path you choose. If you cannot picture yourself in heaven, then you don’t belong there. Don’t make the same mistake as I did, thinking that others know best what is right for you.”Lan Xichen thought about the myth. He thought about Lan An. There were so many parts missing. “What happened?”Zhinü’s eyes glazed over. The breeze cut off without warning. “He killed himself.”Did Lan An not return to the monastery? Did he not achieve immortality? These were assumptions they had made, written into history until they became facts. He thought it over and came to the realisation, immortality didn’t guarantee godhood. One could live a hundred lifetimes on earth and never see a glimpse of heaven. “When I was taken away, my husband blamed himself. As time passed, so he retreated in shame. With his last breath, he prayed for our children,” she explained. “Do you know what happens to souls freed in such a manner?”Lan Xichen shivered. For that grave sin, one cannot rejoin the Wheel of Reincarnation. What becomes of their soul is unknown.“I wanted to throw myself out of heaven. To fall to earth. To become a mortal. But it would not have made any difference. Even if I went to search for him in the underworld, he would not recognise me, nor would I know him. Father told me if I stayed and did my work, he would honour my husband’s final wishes. I didn’t know then… how they would twist his words.”Lan Xichen really couldn’t blame her for accepting that offer. If all that was left of Lan An was his wish, it was understandable that she would want to make sure it was granted. “Are you really my ancestor?” he blurted out of nowhere.Zhinü snorted softly and turned towards her loom. He watched her hair slide over her shoulder, and then she cut off a handful of it. As soon as the hair was shorn, it became as white as snow. Then she began to weave the clouds, and when she saw him watching intently, she explained, “Have you ever wondered what it was that separates heaven from earth?”Lan Xichen said without thinking: “Hair[7]?”She laughed again. “Cloud-silk.” Guiding his hands, she showed him how to weave a few wisps of cloud. Unnoticed by him, her smile waned as his grew. “Before, I would use all sorts of things. Hopes and wishes. Dreams. Starlight. Nothing was impossible. The possibilities were endless.”“It could be anything?” he asked, mesmerised by how quickly she worked. "That's incredible."“It was,” she agreed, and added quietly: “But now I use this.”Lan Xichen watched her cut off another handful.All of this reminded him of that dream.The dream in which she said that ‘he’ had chosen him. A man then, not Guanyin? The Jade Emperor, perhaps?Once again, Lan Xichen was getting the feeling that they had only scratched the surface of what this was all about. Lan Xichen considered what he wanted to know, and then what else he could ask her. There must be some rules to all of this, keeping her and the others bound to a level of secrecy. Even Sun Wu Kong was also cautious with what he told him.“You told me before that this is the only chance to ‘fix this’, but what is this exactly?”The colour of the sky had changed since he went into the palace. It was approaching dawn. A short eternity passed, and then she spoke, “What you need to know is that there are three parts to this. Firstly, the wish; then the agreement to honour it; and finally there is a wager.”The last one was unknown to him until now. Lan Xichen could already guess who was involved. “I’m guessing His Majesty must have given you some sort of ultimatum.”“When Father saw that I was losing hope, he agreed to give me a chance to change things.” Zhinü let out a sigh. “He calls it a kindness, but I would call it punishment. A mistake.” Lan Xichen opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “I cannot say any more about this. That is, unfortunately, the problem, Huan'er. It is thought that once a person knows their fate, they will make every attempt to avoid it.”“Then this is also part of my fate.” Lan Xichen was beginning to wonder what wasn’t. What part of his life was not governed by fate or duty? What part was just for him? “That must mean it's already decided.”“The obstacle is. The outcome isn’t.” She paused again to look at him. “If I were to tell you more, it would cast doubts as to the validity of your success. Just remember that fate is not the same thing as destiny,” she said, tipping his chin up. He had been gazing into the water, drifting amongst the clouds. “Fate is what we are given. Destiny is what we make for ourselves.”Again Lan Xichen thought about making choices without sufficient information, and how human an undertaking it was to risk everything on a chance. But these were gods gambling with his fate. It might not matter to them, but… a hand came to wipe his tears, and he leaned into that comfort. In this instance, he wept bitterly and without shame.When he was finished, he found Zhinü smiling at him. “Better?”It wasn’t, but he smiled nevertheless. “Better.”“Show me what you have there,” she said, tapping her own chest right above the heart. “You meant to show us something else before, but then the monkey stole your thunder. I could see your hand reaching for it.”Lan Xichen felt his ears go hot, but pulled out a crumpled sheaf of papers out of his robes. The sun climbed higher into the sky, filling it with warmth and golden light. The shift between night and day would always tug at his heart as keenly as any sunset. Though he knew how to greet the sunrise, he often found himself missing the night in all its beauty. Lan Xichen breathed it in, and Zhinü took her time reading the letter, mouthing the words to herself with a smile. “So this is your reason?” she asked, tracing the ink reverently. “How beautiful.”She might be just one person, it didn’t even matter that she was a goddess. He was thankful for her kindness, and how it made his heart swell with pride. Zhinü tucked the poem back into his robes, and then straightened his collar. The last time someone did this for him, he was eight years old. Watching her fuss over his clothing, he had to wonder… was Zhinü lonely here in heaven?Somewhere, a clock chimed. His head whipped around. It almost sounded like the morning gong in the Cloud Recesses. “Yes, Lan Xīchén,” she laughed. “This is your time, my dearest chancellor of the morning sun.” This time she wiped her own tears after kissing his forehead. Was she lonely? His heart ached as her hands fell away, and when she smiled and it reached her bright golden eyes, “And it's about time you went home too.”After leaving the pond, Lao Li was the one to escort him out of the gates. The others, he said, would join them later (“If they can wrap their heads around simple directions,” he’d muttered under his breath). He glanced at Lan Xichen and huffed. “Oh cheer up, lad. It’s not all hopeless.”“Is it not?” he croaked, and then came to a stop. “But wait… why will I be seeing you later? Surely your task is completed now?”“One of them is. The other remains to be seen.”At his questioning look, Lao Li grumbled.“You know of the wager?” When Lan Xichen nodded, he sighed. “Well, it’s sort of to do with that, only this is something we have volunteered to do it ourselves. The thing you need to understand is that this thing has been going on for longer than you have been alive. Naturally, it has divided opinions on what outcome should be favoured, and so there are a lot of people quite interested in this… venture of yours.”“The gods have been placing bets,” Lan Xichen deduced. “On my success or failure. On my fate.”“…”“Unbelievable.” Then he thought about it. “Yet also, perfectly believable.”“That is exactly why we have decided to come!” Lao Li’s face had become quite red. “We’ve had quite enough of this nonsense. Whilst we do our best to remain neutral, there is no hope of that anymore, and so we have chosen to try and keep those who would want to interfere at bay. Do you see now?”“Only as far as you want me to see,” Lan Xichen admitted, smiling thinly.The doctor stared at him for a moment and then let out a barking laugh. The slap on the back was expected this time (which meant Lan Xichen only wheezed a little). “You will be severely tested. Just remember that you are never without friends, young master. Also, whilst some things might seem quite impossible, in the end, it always comes down to a single choice: whether to take that chance or not?”Severely tested? One had to wonder how severe that meant, considering what they had already experienced—“One last thing,” Lao Li said. “I must warn you against climbing any mountain other than your own. Nor should you entertain the idea of heaven at any point. Nor risk meditation for the time being. Any of these actions might be taken as consent—oh shit. There he is. Good luck, young master! We’ll see you soon!”Lan Xichen blinked and he was gone. Seeing no option left but to try and find his way home himself, he headed out and… well, he could only assume that that was the Monkey King ahead of him, going by the glowing eyes and cocky grin. Other than that, he appeared completely human. When Lan Xichen approached, Sun Wu Kong smiled. “Ready to go home, young master?”“Yes, I am.” Lan Xichen squinted. As far as he could see, there was no way out. “But how?”“That's why I’m here.” Sun Wu Kong opened his arms wide. “I’m your ride back to earth!”Lan Xichen’s smile was verging on painful. “Really?”“Yep. This is the problem with forcing an ascension, you see. You have all the power but lack the skill. It’s like shoving a fledgling out of its nest.” Sun Wu Kong clicked his tongue. “I can teach you if you want? You’re going to have to learn eventually. With immortality comes unaided flight, and it’s not really that difficult. The trick is to bend your knees—oh fuck.” His head snapped to the side, ears growing back to their original size. “Shit. Fuck! No!” Alarmed, Lan Xichen once again reached for Shuoyue. “What is it?”Sun Wu Kong is still spitting curses. “It’s that spouse of yours! He’s spent all this time hanging around, and now he chooses to leave? Fucking hell. Alright, here’s the plan. As soon as we land, you’re gonna grab him.”Lan Xichen blinked, “Pardon?”Sun Wu Kong pulled a face. “Don’t ‘pardon’ me! What utter bullshit! Seriously! I can’t believe I have to—” and without any warning, he kicked Lan Xichen straight out of heaven! Lan Xichen is once again thrown off-course, but this time it’s because Jingyi has leapt on top of him. The boy is certainly growing stronger—capable of such a tight embrace that he can feel his ribs creaking! “Bobo!" Jingyi screeches into his ear, hanging from his neck. “The Weaver Girl! Zhinü! She’s Lan An's wife?! Did you hear that, Sizhui?!!” A tired voice replies, “Yes, yes, I heard!”“I knew it didn’t make sense, but when you eliminate all other possibilities, what is left has to be the truth! Does that make any sense? Oh, oh! But does that mean you’re—”Jin Ling yelps, “Uncle, no!”“Out of my way!” Jiang Cheng marches over with a face like thunder and plucks Jingyi off him. Before Lan Xichen can draw breath, he is seized by his robes and shaken within an inch of his life. “Are you serious? Lan Xichen, did you really just lie? To the gods?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!!” To be fair, he was expecting this. Even so, Lan Xichen can only laugh at his reaction. Of course Jiang Cheng would focus on that part out of everything. Being immortal means that even an avalanche couldn’t shift him, and yet he sways forwards and—“Lying! Right to their faces!! Just like that!! Ascension must have fried your brain!”“Wanyin.”“You absolute idiot! What does that even mean? Aren't they angry? Are they going to come after you now?”“Wanyin,” he murmurs, reaching up to hold his waist, “I had to come home.”“What does it mean?” Jiang Cheng repeats, searching him for answers. Lan Xichen shakes his head. He has none. Nothing but himself and this one reason. It's all he needs. It is everything. “A month?”“A month,” Lan Xichen agrees, eyes flicking downwards. “I'm sorry.”Jiang Cheng’s throat bobs.With him holding onto Lan Xichen’s robes, he’s highly conscious of the faint rise and fall of his chest. He’s close enough to count his eyelashes—but instead, he focuses on the telltale signs of exhaustion. Lan Xichen may have gone to heaven, but he’s been through hell. “It’s alright,” Jiang Cheng says quietly, even though it really isn’t. “What are you even apologising for? It’s not like it’s your fault.”Lan Xichen's eyes widen. “You...”“But what’s this about a spouse?” Wei Wuxian interrupts, forcing Lan Xichen to acknowledge their position. He removes his hands quickly, and pulls back to put some distance between them—but it's too late. Yiling Laozu is watching them closely, dissecting everything with a sharp eye and even sharper smile. “Did Xichen-ge get married in secret, I wonder?”Jingyi scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous! He would never do such a thing, which means… huh, does that mean we need to find somebody for Uncle?” After half a second of contemplating this, Jingyi turns his attention to a far more exciting prospect. “But this thing about the gods, does that mean we’re actually going to have to fight the gods?!”Lan Wangji steps forwards, places a hand on Jingyi’s head, and answers him in one word: “No.”“I’m serious about the spouse though,” Wei Wuxian says, raising his voice. “If we consider the conditions the Jade Emperor has given for Xichen-ge being put on probation, he said he would allow him one month on earth ‘with his spouse’. That means there needs to actually be a spouse.”Ouyang Zizhen pipes up, “That’s a good point! But how did Zewu-Jun even convince them there even was a spouse? Since they are gods, surely they would have been able to tell if he was lying…”The reason for all of this is because when Lan Xichen was describing how the conversation with the Emperor went, he kept some of the details deliberately vague.When he referred to having found his fated partner, he revealed neither their gender nor their name. The bell wasn’t mentioned at all. None of this was due to him feeling ashamed, but rather because this was not something he wanted to drag Jiang Cheng into unwillingly. It was not a choice he could make alone either, which was why he was waiting on an answer. “Well now,” Sun Wu Kong says brightly, crossing his arms. “Isn't that rather interesting?” Jiang Cheng glares at him, but asks, “If the conditions aren’t met, what would that mean for his time on earth?”Sun Wu Kong hums. “It’s hard to say, but it would certainly put him more at risk. Since what Tiān Gōng has done to allow this could be considered off-the-books, that means that the rules are his to make. As Wei-gongzi is trying to say, that means that sticking to the rules would be within our interests.”“Honouring any agreement goes both ways,” Lao Li adds. “Stretching the terms already means we’re already treading on thin ice.”Jiang Cheng tries not to react when Lan Xichen shifts beside him. He half expects another beam of light to strike down and snatch him away right then. The thought of that has him clenching his fists, fighting the urge to— “I don’t think Zewu-Jun would have lied though,” Jin Ling reasons, sounding scandalised by the very thought. “But if he did… if they can see through lies but didn’t reject him outright, maybe that means they have a different way of judging the truth?”“All of these are excellent points,” Wei Wuxian says, “But I think you’re missing the most obvious thing—oh, Sizhui! What is it?”Sizhui clears his throat and raises a hand slowly. “I was just, uh... Uncle, do you… uhhh, your ribbon. Do you know where it might be?” Lan Xichen freezes. Of course he knows. He also knows it’s up to Jiang Cheng to say where it is. Even that depends on his assumption that Jiang Cheng has kept it. All of this means he has no answer to give them without possibly—Wei Wuxian whistles. "Oh my."There are gasps heard from all around. Again Lan Xichen finds himself unprepared for what he finds, because when he turns—Jiang Cheng is standing with the ribbon hanging from his fingers.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There is no better way of learning than to seek your own strayed heart. — Mèngzǐ (孟子)
Truth be told, Jiang Cheng wasn’t even thinking when he pulled out the ribbon. Instead, he was remembering the way Lan Xichen’s mouth trembled when he mentioned Ninth Heaven, and how his voice shrank down to a whisper when he spoke of Zhinü. The fact that Lan Xichen would lie to the gods, that he would risk everything like that. He must have been so desperate.
Wanyin, I had to come home.
(Home?)
I bend my head and think of—
Was it really the blessing that brought him back? In the end, does it really matter? What’s important is keeping him here. The moment Jiang Cheng realises this, he knows there’s no going back. He lost his courage once, he will not lose it again. They made no promises, nor do they have any commitments to one another. It wasn’t possible at the time when time itself was running out, but now that he is back... things are different, aren’t they?With the ribbon in his hand, is there any point in saying ‘it’s not what it looks like’? Who will believe him anyway? People only believe what they want to believe. They were all living proof of that. Like the legend they know to be true, like the deep ache in his chest… it is what it is. As simple as that. Another thought occurs to him. “Lao Li said we were on thin ice. How thin are we talking exactly?”Lao Li purses his lips. “That’s hard to say, and not for me to decide.”Jiang Cheng, “There must be something we can do.”Lao Li, “If I tell you that there isn’t, will you let that stop you? Will you take my word for it?”“He will not!” Wei Wuxian snaps, causing everyone to jump. “Jiang Cheng, was I the only one paying attention to what the Emperor said, or did you hear it too? He gave Xichen-ge a month. That’s one month to get things done.”“Twenty-four days, actually,” Jiang Cheng mutters. Slowly he lifts his head. “But you’re right.”If everyone was shocked before, that’s nothing compared to what happens when Jiang Cheng starts winding the ribbon around his wrist, crisscrossing the fabric like he’s wrapping a bandage. When the ends are left hanging freely, he pauses for a moment. Then he holds his arm out to Lan Xichen, who can only look at him in utter disbelief. Of course, it’s impossible to tie a knot with just one hand.Is he dreaming though? He almost can’t believe it, but... it’s right there on his wrist. His ribbon. Jiang Cheng really kept it— “Xichen?” When Lan Qiren steps forwards, Lan Xichen closes his eyes. Can’t this wait? He knew this was coming, but he was not prepared for how it would feel when it did. A chill breeze stealing his warmth. For once in his life, can’t he just have—“Yes, shūfu?”The man looks at a loss for words. “What is this? What is he doing?” Lan Xichen was expecting disappointment or anger, but Uncle mostly sounds confused. Scared, even. “But surely you can’t be… it can’t be true. Not… not you too?”Lan Xichen turns to check on Wangji, but his brother has long lost any doubts or shame for the choices he has made. Years ago he would have been the one needing support, but this time Wangji is the one meeting him with assurance, and it's from that steady gaze that Lan Xichen draws his strength. “It is how it appears, Uncle.”Immediately, Lan Qiren’s complexion switches between white and red several times. Something flickers across his face. “No, but… could you not have thought of any other reason? Xichen, please, this is serious—”Lan Xichen, “I know it is serious.”Uncle isn't stupid, and when his gaze flicks over him… it’s terrible watching as realisation causes his face to slacken. When he continues going paler and paler, Lan Xichen tries to remember the way Zhinü said ‘how beautiful’ and how it filled him with joy. How she murmured the poem aloud and smiled. He tells himself, this is a blessing. It’s everything he wants, and...Lan Qiren clears his throat. “Xichen, I must speak with yo—”“Before you do that, Teacher, let us discuss the matter at hand.” Wei Wuxian cuts him off with a clap of his hands. Not pausing for breath, he continues: “Alright, so we know that Xichen-ge is immortal, but is he a god? What is the difference, and what does either one mean?”“He is both,” Lao Li answers quickly, “But without duties and without assignment, he lingers in the in-between. His duties will determine where he will reside. Ultimately, his fate—”Wei Wuxian, “Okay, shut up. I’m sorry, but I’ve had enough with fate. I don’t want to talk about it. What about this month on earth? In that time, what can be done? Even if we must follow the rules set by His Majesty, that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything in the meantime, and—no actually, you know what?! First of all, what I want to know is how you seem to know me!!”This abrupt change in topic throws everyone back into stunned silence.Wei Wuxian has Chenqing pointed right at Sun Wu Kong’s nose, causing the monkey to cross his eyes. He keeps the flute raised like one would hold a sword to one’s throat. “When and where have we met, Dàshèng?”Sun Wu Kong slowly points at himself, “Me?”Wei Wuxian, “I’ve dreamt about you in a dark, empty place. Was that real?” Sun Wu Kong, “Technically, aren’t all dreams real?”For once, Wei Wuxian isn’t smiling. “Was that place dìyù?"[1]“Dìyù?” The Monkey King snorts. “You didn’t even get past the Gates of Hell, let alone step foot into dìyù! After all the fuckery of your previous life, even your local Earth God refused to have anything to do with you. Even when your soul managed to drag itself back together, when you reached the Gates, no one would let you in.”Jiang Cheng knows Wei Wuxian is trying to divert attention away from him, but really, choosing this as the topic of conversation?Whilst this might be relevant somehow, it digs at old wounds he would have preferred to have left untouched, forcing him to remember—countless rituals to summon Yiling Laozu’s soul. One hundred and twenty stone beasts set atop Luanzang Hill. Yunmeng Jiang gave one last-ditch attempt, and then redirected their efforts towards suppressing demonic cultivators who, after the death of their idol, had been on the rise.He rubs a thumb over the smooth silk of the ribbon, forcing himself to breathe steadily even as his hands tremble. Having it confirmed that Wei Wuxian’s soul had really been torn apart, knowing now that no one would help him… at the peak of his anger, maybe he would have been glad to hear this. Now all he can wonder is: why do the people he loves always suffer such agonising deaths?He doesn't want to know, and yet he must ask: “How long did it take him to reach the Gates?”Sun Wu Kong hums. “About six years, I think? Or however long it took before that other young one died.”Lao Li hisses, “Show some respect.”“By 'that other young one', do you mean Xiao Xingchen?” Wei Wuxian’s brow creases. “I think I saw him too. I thought he was a ghost. He kept flickering in and out of sight.” (Poor child. Wants so badly to forget, but the heart doesn’t forget that easily, does it?) He didn’t know back then, what a miserable life that young man had lived. “And then there was you, and then there was… tea?”“The River of Forgetfulness[2]flows freely between the realms of the living and the dead. Old Lady Mèng made a trip across the Gates specifically to brew you that tea fresh from those waters. At the time you were too wary to accept it. Understandable, given how much you had been through. When Xiao Xingchen arrived, you tried to give it to him instead.” “But Daozhang took his own life,” Jin Ling says, face twisting in pity. “And if what Goddess Zhinü said about the souls of those who do that is true, is that why Wei Wuxian’s soul repaired itself? Both souls broke apart, but… one happened by accident, whilst the other didn’t?”By accident? Was it really by accident? Wei Wuxian smiles quickly. “Yes, that must be it.”“The fact that that was only part of Xiao Xingchen’s soul could also explain why he couldn’t drink it,” Lao Li muses. “Even if he had…”Wei Wuxian turns to Sun Wu Kong. “Why did you stop me from drinking it though?”“Only those with no time left in the mortal world can pass through the Gates. In every other previous lifetime, you have managed to pass straight through without any trouble. This time you didn’t.”Wei Wuxian thinks for a moment and then laughs coldly. “So it was my fate to return to this world, is that what you're trying to say?” “It was your fate to pass on, just like it was in every other lifetime.” Sun Wu Kong squeezes his temples. “Listen, even seven years after Xiao Xingchen’s soul vanished, your soul remained undecided. By the time you were about to drink the tea, I had been watching you long enough to know that wasn’t what you truly wanted."Unfortunately, I think you managed to take a sip before I could stop you. Then the choice was taken out of your hands by Young Master Mo’s sacrifice, and the rest you did yourself.”“You have been watching him?” Lan Wangji narrows his eyes. “Explain.”Lao Li sounds tired when he asks, “How did you even gain access to dìyù, Hóuwáng?”The monkey laughs. “I was given it, of course!”Lao Li turns to his companions. “...I need wine. Which one of you has the wine?”Sun Wu Kong huffs.“Surely you must know about the whole mess that stupid fish demon cooked up. The dream thing he put me in, you know? In which case, you’ll be aware that I served as Yánwáng in dìyù for a while. Right?” (Various murmurs agree. Naturally, everyone knows the tale of Xī Yóu Bǔ![3] The Monkey King's stories were well-known and well-loved, even by those in Gusu!) “Well, when no one asked me to return the keys, I kept them.”“…”Lan Sizhui clarifies this time, “The keys. You mean the keys to the Gates of Hell? Those keys?”“Of course.” The Monkey King doesn’t seem ashamed at all for this. “Anyway, I had been hearing a ruckus about this Yiling Laozu causing trouble all over the place. When I realised he was lurking outside the Gates, naturally I was curious—”“What does this have to do with anything?” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “What does your involvement with Wei Wuxian have to do with what's happening to Lan Xichen?” “What does this have… this has literally everything to do with what is happening! Are you even fucking listening to a word I’m saying?!” Sun Wu Kong leans back with a groan, growing to his human height. He takes his staff and draws in the air with the end of it, leaving behind a glittering circle. “I’m assuming everybody knows about the Wheel of Reincarnation, right? Then you will understand the concept of cyclicality. There is no beginning, there is no end. Life is as it always was, and time follows the same fundamental principle…”
You have lived this life before, countless times, and in countless different ways, and in all of those lives, there was you.
The world keeps turning but time itself stands still. The circle glimmers, endless and golden.
The Wheel is eternal, interwoven with blessings, complete. Nothing can break it. Nothing can—
One blink and it vanishes. That brief glimpse into eternity. Gone in an instant. Sun Wu Kong slashes his staff through the circle. Wei Wuxian jerks awake. Was it just his imagination, or did he hear the chime of a bell? The Monkey King harrumphs, shooting him an urgent look. Those yellow eyes seem to bore right through him. “That’s what you did.”Wei Wuxian’s mouth snaps shut. He did that? What does he mean? Did he break the circle?!“That was the way things were before,” Sun Wu Kong explains. (The golden thread uncurls.) “And it would have continued that way if you had passed on, as fate intended. But then you didn’t, and so things changed. Maybe it is because there are some things the heart cannot forget. For you, I think it was a song that you refused to give up. You kept humming it—”Wei Wuxian, “A song?”“—over and over. Even though souls are made to be resilient, there are some things that even the Tea of Forgetfulness cannot wash away. Under the right circumstances, those things might turn a person into a ghost.” Wei Wuxian, “If that is true, why didn't I become a ghost?”“Young Master Wei was freed from the Wheel before he could make any sort of decision, which was a decision in and of itself.” Lao Li crosses his arms. “Then thanks to Young Master Mo's sacrifice, it was from that point that the course of the future was changed irreversibly. Not just for him, but for everyone.”Sun Wu Kong spreads his arms, “And yet, the world hasn’t ended, has it? The heavens haven’t come crashing down. All of which supports Lady Zhinü’s belief that destiny goes hand-in-hand with the dào. Huh, that’s funny. Doesn’t it seem almost as if Tiān Gōng’s problem isn’t to do with the dào at all—”“This is all very interesting,” Jiang Cheng says. “But that's in the past. What does any of it have to do with this?” Sun Wu Kong gestures at the golden strand rippling freely. “Who do you think can see past the Wheel? What type of beings are capable of recognising changes beyond time?”After a moment, a small voice asks, “Immortals?”The monkey spins around, pointing his staff at a terrified junior. “Exactly! Immortals. Gods. We have been watching all this time, and there has never been an opportunity like this before. This one tiny crack is all the chance we need. Whilst mortal affairs are certainly transient, this time the Wheel itself has been interrupted by your doing.” Lao Li says, “There was a future written by fate, but Young Master Wei chose to walk a different path. No such precedent has happened before, yet he managed it. By this action, he opened a whole world of possibilities—”“As rightly he should,” Zhang Guo Lao murmurs, handing Lao Li a third jar of wine. “As I've always said, let destiny be written by one's own ink…”Jiang Cheng drags a hand over his face with a groan. “This is bullshit.”“Is it?” Sun Wu Kong turns to him. “Haven’t you noticed the seasons staggering along? And what strange weather we’ve been having lately. Winter has come early and dragged on for far too long. You think these events are just freak occurrences or some sort of coincidence?” He makes a fist, and the golden strand swirls around like it is chasing itself. “Time remains unspooled both before us and behind us too.” Wei Wuxian, “Well... that doesn't sound good.”Sun Wu Kong, “When Tiān Gōng recognised that he was about to lose his wager, for lack of a better word, he panicked.”Jiang Cheng, “What even is the wager—”“Ah-ah!” Sun Wu Kong wags a finger. “You know we cannot tell you that. Instead, let us discuss what His Majesty did when he realised that he might lose. After looking at the Wheel, he considered the dào and time itself, and there he discovered a loophole. The thing to remember is that whilst fate cannot be changed, certain things can be forced into happening earlier than they should.” “Which is why the Emperor expedited Xichen-ge’s ascension,” Wei Wuxian deduces. “But how will binding him to heaven win the Emperor this wager, and what bearing does that have on breaking the curse?”“Is he even allowed to do that?” JingYi demands. Lan WangJi places a hand on his head again as a warning. “Even if he is the Emperor, surely messing with a person’s fate has got to be against the rules, right?!”“Oh child, what rules?” Sun Wu Kong laughs. “You’ll learn soon enough that so long as you are powerful enough, you will always get the results you want. Technically, he didn’t even break any rules. Fate merely promises ‘what will happen’, but ‘when’ is not always specified. That is another loophole.”“The gods have been betting on my fate," someone says. Lan Xichen blinks slowly. Did he speak? Was that him right now?These words take him back to heaven. Back to the palace with all those eyes on him.Are you suggesting that your fate is tied to earth? Are you quite certain? A lump rises to his throat, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Before the existence of heaven and earth, it must have been written that after however many incarnations your soul would rise to godhood. After all the mistakes he’s made, did his downfall not prove that in the end, he was still just as human as ever?“I... I’m not right. I don’t want—” Does it even matter what he wants? Who even cares? (Offering godhood as if there were no strings attached. You would tie him to a fate that ends in misery.) “Please, I didn’t ask for this. I don’t… I—”“Xichen-ge.” Lan Xichen turns to find Jiang Cheng with his arm still outstretched. The ends of the ribbon have come loose. Seeing that, his heart skips a beat. Suddenly he can breathe. He kept it. He had it all this time... Lan Xichen's heart beats louder with every footstep, and when he stops right in front of him, it feels like it's about to burst from his chest. It’s alright, he said last time, but is this still alright? “Are you sure?” Jiang Cheng considers the question carefully, but seems to have already made his decision. “Are you?”Later he will regret not paying attention to this moment, but his mind goes hazy when he takes Jiang Cheng's hand in his.Lan Xichen has never really thought about giving his ribbon to anyone before, much less doing it in front of an audience, or at such a time as this. Despite this, all he is aware of is Jiang Cheng’s fingers twitching in his grip, his quick breaths puffing against his cheek. It’s intimate and sweet, and so overwhelming that he lingers just to take it all in. When Jiang Cheng flicks a glance up at him… whilst he knows this may be bigger than the two of them, right at that moment it's as if the rest of the world ceases to exist. Let destiny be written? Between their clasped hands are all the countless words he would write. The laughter and tears, and poems and songs. What madness is it indeed that he could ever be this happy—“A-hem.” Lan Xichen jumps. Part of him wants to laugh when he sees everyone around them staring in wide-eyed disbelief. It’s impossible to tell how long he's been lost in thought. Jiang Cheng’s face is bright red, but even when he turns away he cannot tear his gaze off of him. Do their lives really have to be ruled by fate or destiny, or can’t it just be this? Can’t it just be them?Wei Wuxian glances between them, smiling warmly. “Well, isn't this just wonderful? And it works so well with my plan too!”Jiang Cheng scoffs loudly. “Plan? What plan?” His voice is roughened with some emotion Lan Xichen can't quite place. Instinctively, he squeezes his hand in comfort. “These are gods we’re talking about. The Jade Emperor himself is watching us. What chance do we have—”“But you said I was right before! What changed your mind?” Wei Wuxian looks pointedly at their joined hands. “I must be seeing wrongly. If you’ve given up so suddenly, in that case, what exactly are you doing?”The question hangs in the air. Jiang Cheng doesn’t answer. It’s impossible to tell whether he is vibrating with anger or not, but Lan Xichen moves to grip his shoulder. It worked before, and it works again. Jiang Cheng's spine straightens, his muscles loosening under his touch.“You need to get married,” Wei Wuxian says quite bluntly. Lan Xichen hears Jiang Cheng’s breath hitch. Wei Wuxian's smile widens. “The ribbon may be seen as a promise, but who can say whether that is accepted as marriage by the gods?”Jiang Cheng, “Wei Wuxian.”“I’m serious! His Majesty said ‘one month on earth with his spouse’. We need to make absolutely sure we secure that month, which means he needs to actually have a spou—”Jiang Cheng, “Wei Wuxian.” “What is that hanging from your belt, Xichen-ge?” The Yiling Laozu’s eyes gleam with amusement. With triumph. Lan Xichen returns his smile tenfold. How can this be losing? He gladly flips back a sleeve, revealing the bell. “Oh! Well, will you look at that? In that case, it seems it’s been decided—”In a blur of movement, Lan Xichen blinks and finds his hands empty. Jiang Cheng grabs his brother and marches them a distance away. He glances backwards, then drags them further away towards the trees. Even with their backs turned and heads bowed, Lan Xichen can still hear them. Godly powers indeed!Wei Wuxian is already babbling away, “I’m actually quite impressed, you know? Showing off his ribbon like that! Even my thick face was cracking! Haha! Since when were you this reckless, Jia—ack!”“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng barks, shoving at him. The sound of them bickering makes Lan Xichen chuckle. Just listening to this is such a comfort, because he thought it was all over once he closed his eyes; because this love found him in his dying hour and brought him back home again; because this man is able to make him feel in a way he has never felt before.The next thing he hears stops him in his tracks. Wei Wuxian’s voice is tense, “What’s wrong?”Again, there is no reply from Jiang Cheng. Lan Xichen's smile freezes on his face. What… is there something wrong? He listens in to the rapid hammering of Jiang Cheng's heart, the rhythm of which seems slightly irregular. His breaths are short and quick. When Lan Xichen tries to match them, his chest feels uncomfortably tight.Wei Wuxian, “You keep changing your mind, yet your actions speak for themselves. Are you just getting cold feet, or is this something else? I really can’t understand you at all. If your thoughts are so conflicted, why are you even doing this?”Somehow, he can sense Jiang Cheng’s temper rising. “How is that any of your business?”Wei Wuxian, “You are my brother. That makes it my business.”A whole minute passes in silence. Finally, he says, “Hasn’t he been through enough?”Lan Xichen feels like he's been slapped. The sharp sting of remembrance, the months of atonement, his blame turning inwards, twisting with each moment of doubt. Even after all he’s been through, the fact remains that he’s still alive and they aren’t. All of this is suffocating for one breath of time, but it's swept away when Jiang Cheng adds curtly, “He wants to stay here. I want to help him. That’s all there is to it.”“But if we should fail and he ends up trapped in heaven, what will that mean for you? Will you remarry after? I really can’t picture you doing that. First of all, who would even want to marry yo—ow, ow! Okay!” The scuffling ends after another yelp of pain. When Wei Wuxian next speaks, all his humour is gone. “But seriously, Jiang Cheng. I know what you’re like. Have you given any thought to yourself if the plan doesn't work? If he leaves, you'll end up alone—”“What does that matter?” Jiang Cheng laughs bitterly. “How would that be any different to the life I’m living right now? I have always been alone.”Lan Xichen’s heart grows cold and heavy, sinking to his stomach.“What is one lifetime to an eternity of solitude?” Jiang Cheng mutters. Wei Wuxian makes a noise of protest, but he continues, “Guanyin will only go to live in heaven when there is no suffering left on earth. I can't see that happening anytime soon. That means he will be up there in Ninth Heaven for fuck knows how long. Do you see now how little my suffering will be compared to his?”The word itself is frightening. An eternity? Over the past year, he has languished in the long periods in-between Jiang Cheng’s visits. He has taken the time spent with his family for granted, and all of their patience, and all of their care. What would an eternity be like without seeing any of them again? Will they become immortal in that time, or will they die? Either way, he will live on.
A-Huan, have you ever disobeyed an order before?
“Your plan had better work, Wei Wuxian.” Jiang Cheng straightens himself up slowly. He doesn’t look surprised to find Lan Xichen looking in his direction. Wei Wuxian mutters in defence of whatever genius idea his mind has spawned, meanwhile… they stare at one another across the distance. It’s exactly this which brings back a whisper of Zhinü’s sorrowful gaze. Is she looking down on them right now, he wonders?Lan Xichen recalls her voice, and the warmth of her palms cupping his cheeks. She stood by him, and has hope for them yet, but in the end… she suffers alone in heaven. And what about Lan An? One has to consider him too, and his tragic life, and his tormented soul.All of this triggers another memory.There is no bridge. The river is vast. Another dream, and then another. A shadow chasing after another shadow. Thick mists separating them. No one else around. Technically, aren’t all dreams real? What does that mean if it is real?“A-Huan.” Lan Xichen flinches.Seeing that it’s Uncle again, he hangs his head in defeat and allows him to pull him aside. That tone was the same one he used to scold him with. Harden your heart, he would say. Disappointment wrapped in fear. “A-Huan, what happens now?” Uncle shakes his head helplessly. “What am I supposed to do? With you and Wangji… please, tell me you don't mean it? Please tell me this is a mistake?”Listening to him beg, Lan Xichen’s eyes prickle with tears, but he is so tired of crying about things that aren’t his fault to begin with. He doesn’t regret this. He isn't ashamed of this. They may have walked some distance away, but he can feel Jiang Cheng watching him, and… no, he isn't ashamed. Even so, he lowers his voice, just in case.“But I do mean it,” he says quietly, forcing himself to remain smiling. “My heart has chosen. It’s him, or no one.”Lan Qiren inhales sharply. One can’t help but feel small under that stare, regardless of godliness or pride. Lan Xichen owes this man a thousand apologies, but the words shrivel up on his tongue. “Have you considered—”Lan Xichen, “Shūfu, this is not something one considers.” Has Uncle ever been in love before? How can he describe this to him otherwise? There are no words. Before he even realised, it swept him under, and… there are so many different types of love, but none of them like this. The problem is that he knows where his uncle’s worries are coming from, and the thought is instantly sobering. Lan Xichen opens his mouth to better explain himself, but then—“Teacher!”Oh, his timing is awful. Wei Wuxian waves from Jiang Cheng’s side. “I think we’d better get things started then, don’t you? First thing’s first—marriage!”Even Lan Xichen can’t help but wince at his delivery, but Lan Qiren actually chokes. It's lucky he doesn't spit blood.Wei Wuxian cups his chin. “But how should we divide the work…?”Sun Wu Kong clears his throat. “Keep it simple. We aren’t spending twenty-four days on some grand procession—”Wei Wuxian, “If Teacher can assist Xichen-ge with preparations, I will handle Jiang Che—Jiang Cheng!” Before he can finish, Jiang Cheng has turned on his heel and marched away. Wei Wuxian sputters, exchanging a look with his husband, before stumbling backwards after his brother. “Lan Zhan, I’ll see you later! Jin Ling, what are you doing standing there? Come on, come on! No time to waste!”The poor boy’s face reddens as he scrambles after both his uncles, muttering curses not-so-quietly under his breath. The Spiders peel off from the shadows, flanking him either side. A loud snort cuts through the silence. Sun Wu Kong scowls, mouth twisted in a sneer. “Unbelievable,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Two steps forward, one step back.” His eyes roll heavenwards, and then he goes running after them. Lan Xichen's eyes remain on the one whose arm gleams white in the shadows. Without thinking, his fingers curl tightly around the bell.
They end up in a small nondescript room tucked away in one of the wings. At first, all they can do is watch Jiang Cheng running around like a madman, grabbing sheaves of paper, ink, and a brush.It's moments like these when Jin Ling finds himself caught between wanting to help and wanting to hide.With Minzhen’s hand on his shoulder, he decides to stay put. Just from watching him though, Jin Ling can tell he isn’t actually angry. Every movement has a little bit too much energy in it, which means that Uncle is nervous. The way he’s grinding the ink has Jin Ling cringing. The inkstick is crumbling from the force, causing each brushstroke to leave specks of residue all over the—Jiang Cheng's head snaps up without warning. “Are you lot just going to stand around then?!”Linzhen immediately nudges Jin Ling out of the room. “Go prepare the wedding tea.”Jin Ling, “P…Prepare the tea?”She shuts the door.Jiang Cheng’s next remark is directed at the Monkey King. “And what are you doing here?”Sun Wu Kong shrugs. “Your lot is rather lacking compared to Zewu-Jun’s literal army of white-clad disciples. I came to offer my service.”Jiang Cheng sneers, “Who said we needed your help?”“What are you even doing?” Wei Wuxian circles the table and lets out a noise of surprise.The man has already drafted out most of a marriage certificate in perfect, printed lines. Wei Wuxian can’t help but ponder the situation. Whilst Jiang Cheng has the power to officiate marriages, only his council can authorise his own marriage, but without them here… is this even necessary? It’s then that he notices Jiang Cheng’s hand trembling.“Hey, are y—”“Shut up.” His knuckles are white around the brush as he writes. “If you’re not going to make yourself useful, then kindly fuck off.”“Boss,” Minzhen says, bravely stepping around him to get to her master. “Your hair is a mess.”Jiang Cheng wafts a hand and she starts taking it down.It’s always surprising to see how much hair he has. The moment it comes unbound, it tumbles apart into loose, messy curls that fall to his waist. Wei Wuxian remembers when they were boys and Jiang Cheng hated undoing his hair in front of others.At Lotus Pier, they shared a room for so many years, yet he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen it down. The Spiders move in perfect tandem, almost as if they're spinning an actual web. Jiang Cheng doesn’t appear bothered at all by their fussing, even with Minzhen brutally attacking his hair with a comb, and Linzhen buffing his crown on her arm.Watching them work, Wei Wuxian is reminded of a beautiful summer's day. On his wedding day, it was impossible to look anywhere without seeing something red. Wei Wuxian doesn't realise he's shivering with excitement just remembering it, but then… that gives him an idea! “Jiang Cheng,” he gasps out, “Ohhh! You can borrow my wedding robes!”“Are you stupid? There’s no way I’ll fit in your clothes. You’re tiny.”“…”Sun Wu Kong snickers at the appalled expression on Wei Wuxian's face, beating the floor with his fist. “Haha! I’m beginning to think you have something against those of short stature…” Jiang Cheng levels him with a droll stare. “Okay, point taken.”Jiang Cheng tilts his head even further to look down at him. Minzhen clicks her tongue and yanks him backwards, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the Monkey King. “Dà Hóuwáng, you never said what your interest in Lan Xichen was.”Sun Wu Kong, “You never asked. What you asked was what my interest in Young Master Wei was—”“Why are you so invested in his fate? What is your part in all of this? What’s in it for you?”The monkey sighs, crossing his arms. “Maybe I just want to help. Maybe I’m just nice. Ever think of that?”Jiang Cheng leans forwards. “I don't believe you. Everyone’s always got their own agenda. Even without the wager, there’s something else you’re not telling us.”The way Wei Wuxian suddenly yelps has Jiang Cheng lunging for Sandu, but the man only flails his way over to the door. “Wait, wait, I’ve got it! Oh, oh, why didn’t I think of—” and just like that, he rushes off mid-sentence, his ribbon trailing after him. Seconds later: “I’ll be back!” The sound of him hurtling through the Cloud Recesses follows. Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose when they hear something crashing. “Great. Just great.” “Tsk! What is that rascal up to now?” Linzhen huffs, wrinkling her nose. “Anyway, are you finished, boss? We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”“I was finished a while ago. Minzhen is taking her time.” Jiang Cheng reaches back and frowns at what he finds. The braids are the same, only they wrap around his bun, which feels distinctly smaller than usual. The rest of his hair has been left loose. He immediately hates it. “What are you doing?”Linzhen answers, “Our best.”“Don't touch it!” Minzhen slaps his hand away. “It’s tradition.”Jiang Cheng would protest this if he could, but this… these are Meishan Yu wedding customs.It’s not only the women who change their hairstyles after marriage but the men too. Linzhen fiddles with his crown before helping Minzhen put it in. These two would have him dressed in the finest silk robes if they could, adorned with chains of gold and jewelled beads. They have spoken loudly and often about how they would plan a full week of celebrations for him. At every matchmaking ceremony, they have accompanied him without fail. (Even as he failed them, time and time again).“Thank you for this,” he says quietly. The door cracks open and Jin Ling enters carrying a tea-tray. “I think I made it right.” He looks around. “Where is Uncle Wei?”Jiang Cheng stands, sighing when Minzhen immediately starts plucking at his robes. The tea has been steeped for too long, but… oh well. He tried. Jin Ling’s eyes widen when they land on him, flitting around him as if he’s grown a second head. That's quite honestly how he feels too. Gathering up the papers, he gestures ahead. “Let’s go find out.”
The Ancestral Hall appears half-hidden amongst the clouds.The last time there was a wedding in the Cloud Recesses, it was held in the more commonly used main hall, but for the Sect Leader, different rules applied. Each footstep rings with memories despite the journey being completely new. Jiang Cheng remembers coming here during his studies to learn about the Gusu Lan’s founder. Who would have thought that his story would actually be tied with legend? Sun Wu Kong was right.A veritable sea of white-clad disciples is stood either side of the stairs. From a distance, they almost look like fallen magnolia flowers strewn across the floor. There is not a trace of red around, except for… well, except for Lan Xichen himself. Naturally, he can fit in his brother’s borrowed robes perfectly. Somehow despite this, he looks completely different. Maybe it’s because he's smiling, or maybe it's because—(It’s not his beauty that is surprising, but the fondness in his gaze. Eyes that shine like stars, cheeks rosy with life. This is also what he finds hard to look away from. That dying ember inside him has been replaced by a blazing sun, burning so hopeful and bright.)Jiang Cheng shakes his head, pausing when he feels his hair swing out behind him.That's going to take some getting used to. He sucks in a deep breath and reminds himself: this is for the plan. That's all it is. Wei Wuxian’s plan. Where is that idiot anyway? He tries to search for him in the crowd, but his eyes keep being drawn back to the centre. Bright crimson robes ripple with each movement, glinting light off swirling gold thread.When he comes to stand by Lan Xichen’s side, he does his best not to fidget.With his heart hammering away, heat rises to his face. Lan Qiren has gone to light incense, slowly bowing several times before the altar along with several junior disciples. Seeing this, Jiang Cheng wonders what his ancestors might think about this. What about his parents? What is the procedure for two Sect Leaders marrying? Does one even exist? It’s tradition. What is? What about this can follow tradition?Sizhui and Jingyi are busily unrolling something. Probably the Lan family register. Jin Ling goes to add his hastily written scroll to the table. Since the wedding is being held here, does that mean that he's marrying into Lan Xichen’s family? The thought turns his stomach. There's no way he can abandon his sect like that. Even if he could, he wouldn’t—“It looks lovely.”Jiang Cheng’s immediate response is: “Huh?”Lan Xichen huffs a laugh. “Your hair,” he explains, reaching up to touch one of the braids. The movement shouldn’t be anything startling. After all the time they’ve spent together, they’ve become used to one another's presence, but... “Will you keep it like this? It suits you.”He nods without thinking. Eventually, this will become part of his everyday routine. For years he has done up his hair without thinking, without using a mirror, without even a brush sometimes. Such a little thing, but this will change his mornings. “It’s tradition,” he starts to say because at least that part is true, but then a flash of light catches his eyes. The bell. His bell.
As a member of Yunmeng Jiang, you need to wear a bell to marry. Once you’ve done the bows, you exchange your bell with your partner’s.
They are breaking tradition. Countless centuries of it, shattered beneath their heels. Lan Xichen leads them over to a low table, the sweet chime of the bell accompanying their footsteps. Clear mind, heavy heart. The tea has probably gone cold by now. From the colour, it will be bitter. It’s really strange being on the other side of things, he observes. Being at his own wedding, nothing feels real. “Teacher,” Jiang Cheng bows stiffly, raising his hands in a salute. “Hanguang-Jun.” Perhaps it's a good thing their brothers married first, Lan Xichen thinks, as they kneel on the cushions and Jiang Cheng goes to pour the tea. (Where is Wei Wuxian?) The tea is taken in complete silence. Lan Xichen purses his lips. He knows that neither his brother nor his uncle really approves of this, but… can’t they at least welcome Jiang Cheng into the family? It’s not as if this is his fault, and they know that—(He was so excited for this that Wangji had to help him with his robes. His fingers were shaking too much. Then he trailed behind shūfu all the way to the Library Pavilion, so eager to help that he ripped the trapdoor right off its hinges. Uncle ended up scolding him for like he was a child. The lecture lasted at least ten minutes, but despite all of this... he couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t ease the butterflies trapped inside his chest.)Jiang Cheng doesn't seem surprised by Wei Wuxian's absence. In fact, he appears rather resigned to it. Well, Lan Xichen thinks, this won’t do at all. Before he can second-guess himself, before they move onto the bows, he takes the teapot from Jiang Cheng’s hands and pours two more cups. On his knees, he moves to face the east and lowers his forehead to the ground.“What are you doing?” It’s one thing to hear about Lan Xichen bowing to the gods, and that would make sense because they are gods—but this? This isn’t right at all! Jiang Cheng grasps his arm, trying to pull him back up. “Xichen, what are yo—”“Former Sect Leaders, Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan,” Lan Xichen says, raising one cup and then the other. “Please accept this tea. My deepest apologies, but it appears to have gone cold.”Jiang Cheng’s words die on his tongue.What on earth is he doing?When the Spiders come to kneel beside them, each taking a cup and murmuring their thanks to Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng still doesn't know what to say. There is no one else who could do this, except... where is Wei Wuxian? Surely he knew he was needed here? It's then that Jiang Cheng remembers the idiot has never been to someone else’s wedding before, let alone hosted one himself.Perhaps his knowledge is lacking. Perhaps he had something better to do. Either way, Linzhen catches his eye, and he nods stiffly. “Thank you.”Whilst waiting for them to finish their tea, Lan Xichen looks around. He has never really thought much about what his wedding might be like, but now he wishes it might have been a little more cheerful. It's not that he needs nor really wants anything special. It’s just that he and Jiang Cheng went all-out planning their brothers’ wedding…(Walking along a path under a starlit sky, their shoulders kept bumping together.Jiang Cheng had said, it’s not like every marriage will end up like theirs, you know. Even when I do marry, I don’t expect it’ll end up being anything like this. Then he said, I don’t put much stock into marriages anyway. They’re just business agreements for us, in the end. He’d shrugged. It’s not about love or happiness. It’s about getting things done, the same as anything else.)If they’d had the time, he would have gone just as far for Jiang Cheng. He would have tried to change his mind. Given him everything he wanted and never asked for. Love and happiness. Everything he deserved. Seeing the ribbon on his wrist, Lan Xichen hopes that at least for now it is good enough. There will be time to do this right, once this storm has passed.They are halfway through the bows when a thunder of footsteps rattles the floorboards. Jiang Cheng whirls around. “Where have you been?”Wei Wuxian is wheezing for breath, bent over his knees. “Could ask you… the same!” Flapping his arm. “Went back to the room… you were gone! Checked the main hall. No one. Hanshi. No one—”“Alright, shut up.” Taking in his dishevelled appearance, Jiang Cheng's eyes narrow. “Where have you been?”“Went to Jingshi,” he pants. “Needed to get something.”Before Jiang Cheng can even open his mouth to ask ‘to get what?’ something soft is thrown over his head, muting the world in a layer of red. For a moment he is so stunned that he cannot move. There is a burst of laughter, and then rice is thrown in his face. “What…”“I needed to find you something red, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian explains, fixing the veil so it covers him properly. “Couldn’t leave my shīdì with nothing to wear on his wedding day!”Part of him knows this was meant as a joke.It’s typical of Wei Wuxian to think of something so ridiculous to try and lighten the mood.In any other situation he might have laughed, or tossed the veil back at him and threatened to break his legs, but… his nerves are already frayed, right now everyone is watching and… and it’s all too much.Wei Wuxian’s laughter grates on his ears, but he’s not even angry. He's not sure what he feels anymore. A few juniors start tittering at the sides. Jiang Cheng has been embarrassed many times in his life, but this is different. Almost like panic. Whilst this might have been alright for Wei Wuxian, who had requested the veil specifically to complete his wedding attire, this isn’t what he— The veil flutters aside. Jiang Cheng watches as the other man ducks inside to join him. There shouldn’t be enough room for two grown men to fit, but Lan Xichen crowds in closer until his concerned face fills Jiang Cheng’s vision. He keeps blurring in and out of focus. “Wanyin,” he murmurs, taking hold of his arms. “Hey, it's alright. Breathe. Look at me.”“But we’re both men,” Jiang Cheng says, voice cracking. “I can't. This isn't—”“I know,” Lan Xichen smiles gently. “It's alright, I understand.”This wasn’t what he wanted either, because… this isn’t them at all. What works for their brothers will never work the same for them. He has always known that. Some might say it’s a matter of pride, or shame, or preference, or principles. In the end, what matters is what they’re comfortable with, and what they want, and Lan Xichen has only ever wanted Jiang Cheng exactly the way he is. Nothing more, nothing less.“—are they kissing? Haha! What are they doing in there? What’s taking so long?”Laughter filters through, causing Jiang Cheng to tense up again. Lan Xichen’s heart skips a beat. Kissing? His eyes fall to Jiang Cheng’s parted lips.Moving one hand to cup his cheek, Lan Xichen's eyes slip shut and he slowly leans in.Their noses brush together, and their eyelashes catch, and… Jiang Cheng’s lips are dry and cracked, rough and tasting of blood where he's bitten them raw. Will they soften over time if he can keep him from worrying so much? One of the most frustrating things about Jiang Cheng is how stubborn he is about facing everything by himself, but it's also the thing he loves most about him. How deeply he cares, and how carefully he loves.
You don't do anything by halves, do you? You never do.
It's understandable that the only way to achieve anything in life is to work hard for it, but here... let this between them be easy. Let them meet each other halfway.
Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you.
He tries his best to be gentle. It’s whilst doing this that he accidentally sweeps his tongue across Jiang Cheng's lips. This startles a gasp out of him, a shudder that ripples through his body. With Jiang Cheng’s mouth falling open against his, he doesn't notice it when something warm rolls down over his wrist. The heat of his mouth is intoxicating. His free hand comes to rest on Jiang Cheng’s back, brushing past the ends of his hair to curl around his waist.He is breathing hard when he pulls away, heart racing as he shivers in delight. “Wanyin,” he breathes, leaning in to nuzzle his jaw, “Jiang Cheng. A-Cheng.”Jiang Cheng sucks in a shaky breath, his throat bobbing, his skin warm and… and wet? Lan Xichen freezes.When he pulls back, he finds Jiang Cheng’s eyes are red, his lips swollen and quivering. Lan Xichen's mind goes utterly blank. He knows he should give him some space, but his feet are completely rooted in place. He can’t understand what he's seeing. But… he kissed back, right? He thought he did. That wasn’t just his imagination, was it? Jiang Cheng slowly touches his mouth. “Why… why would you—”“I... I’m sorry.” Lan Xichen doesn’t know what to do. He’s about to wipe his tears when he stops mid-way through the action. Does he have any right to touch him after this? Even love doesn’t grant every right to a person. He should know that better than anyone. “Wanyin, please forgive me. I didn't mean to!”Shaking his head sharply, “It's fine.” Lan Xichen’s stomach floods with ice. What has he done?The veil must have fallen away sometime during this. Lan Xichen catches only a glimpse of Jiang Cheng's face and then the world tilts… Wangji takes him by the elbow. He’s saying something, but his voice is drowned out by the roaring in his ears. One moment they’re standing before the family tablets, the next they are gathered outside in the courtyard.“Right then.” Lao Li taps his staff on the ground. “Now that that’s over with, let us discuss Young Master Wei’s plan…”Lan Xichen is only half paying attention. Does anyone know what happened? Did anyone see what he did? From a quick glance, Jiang Cheng looks much the same as ever, if perhaps a little pale.There is not a single trace of anything like the heartbreak he saw just now, but he knows he didn’t imagine that. The fact his sleeve is wet is proof enough. It should be a relief to think that Jiang Cheng has recovered, but… how many times has Jiang Cheng had to dry his tears and keep on going, pretending that nothing was wrong? How many times has he had to pick himself up again and again?Thinking that he was so used to hiding himself away, and that his suffering could be so easily hidden; knowing that he contributed to his pain this time (what does that matter? How would that be any different to the life I’m living right now? I have always been alone) is unbearable. If only he could go back in time—“Hey, are you even listening?”Lan Xichen recoils. Jiang Cheng also stumbles backwards, but with Lan Xichen’s sleeve still caught in his grip he ends up being pulled along with him. Jiang Cheng immediately lets go. That elicits some giggles from the others, but Lan Xichen can’t even pretend to know what they're talking about. His mind feels abnormally slow. “I… what was that, sorry?”Jiang Cheng snorts in amusement, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wei Wuxian’s plan involves us splitting up.”Lan Xichen blurts out, “But we just got married.”Jiang Cheng, “…”Lan Xichen, “…”They look at each other in silence. In the background, someone lets out a muffled ‘oh my god'.That’s when he realises he must have made a mistake. A mottled blush crawls slowly over Jiang Cheng's face, spreading from his nose to his ears. “What he meant by that,” he says through gritted teeth, “Was that all of us should split up so we can tackle different parts of this whole… problem. The idea is to cover more ground. Get more things done faster. You know.”Lan Xichen blinks a few times. “Ah.”Lan Wangji pats his arm.After a moment, Sun Wu Kong speaks up. “Even if you split up, just bear in mind that heaven is going to be watching you regardless. Young Master Wei may have begun the process of breaking this ages-old curse, but in the end, it’s not up to him to finish it.”Lan Xichen waits and then realises that he is talking to him. “Oh, right.”Jiang Cheng’s jaw cracks from all the tension. Finally, he snaps, “Wei Wuxian, will you stop laughing already?! Hurry up and explain the rest of your plan before I break your legs!”Wei Wuxian coughs a few more times. “Alright, alright, so the first thing I think we should do is confirm whether Xichen-gē being ‘chosen’ by Guanyin is actually true, or if it’s simply something the Emperor is using as an excuse for all of this. Right as of now, all we're doing is going by his word. His Majesty claims the request was made on her behalf, but can anyone here confirm this?”The Immortals exchange glances. Lao Li, “Well... she could have asked him a long time ago. In private. With no one around.”Wei Wuxian, “So that's a no, then.”Jiang Cheng, “He-guniang, didn’t you also say that His Majesty was the one who suggested that Xichen-ge become a disciple in Guanyin's court?” When she nods, his frown deepens. “That does seem pretty suspicious.”“Without any witnesses able to confirm this, the only way to be sure would be to ask Guanyin herself.” It’s a logical conclusion, but Lan Xichen can already tell which direction this is headed from Wei Wuxian’s grin. “The ones to do this will obviously have to be Xichen-gē and Jiang Cheng.”“But isn’t that too risky?” Sizhui slaps a hand over his mouth when he realises he spoke out of turn. His concerns are valid though. If it turns out that Guanyin does, in fact, want Lan Xichen to become her disciple, sending him to go meet with her will be playing right into her hands.Wei Wuxian’s face softens. “At this point, everything is risky, A-Yuan. Now we just have to be brave.”“Yes, Senior Wei,” the boy agrees, cheeks flushing hotly.“If Guanyin truly favours him, she will most likely answer to him.” Turning to the man in question, “If you’re in agreement with this, that will be your task.” Lan Xichen thinks it over. Whilst he isn't too keen on meeting with the goddess who may be behind all of his troubles, he did say he’d do whatever it takes and he stands by that promise. “Let Jiang Cheng decide.”“Whatever he decides, we can use this situation to deal with another problem too. Remember that rumour?” Of course. How could anyone forget? The Core-Stealing Hand. Wei Wuxian’s smile slips for a moment, but then it returns full-force. “Those bastards won’t know what hit them! What better way is there to shut them up than to have you come back to society like that? Haha!”Like that? By ‘like that’, does he mean married, or immortal, or…? Jiang Cheng squints at Wei Wuxian. Going by the glint in his eye, he's definitely up to something. “And what, might I ask, will you be investigating during this?”Wei Wuxian pauses. “It's complicated.”Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, “What isn’t? Go on. Spit it out.”Wei Wuxian hums, rubbing his chin. “Okay then, so the thing is… we don’t know what the wager is, only that it depends on Xichen-ge being stuck in heaven permanently, and that it is linked to Zhinü’s plight. So far, the myth and her punishment seem to mirror the same conditions he has been given.”
Let me tell you something, A-Huan. I was also a good daughter, hardworking and respectful, yet I broke the rules just once, and now look at me. Look where I am.
Even though Lan Xichen tries his best to remain calm, he can't help but be unsettled by their similarities. Having them pointed out like this doesn’t help, because if Zhinü’s life ended up like that, does that mean—Wei Wuxian, “The way I see it, there are only two possible ways to avoid Xichen-ge following in Zhinü's footsteps. Either he asks Guanyin to allow him to remain on earth despite his fate to be a god—”Lao Li interrupts, “Gods must stay in heaven.”“Or,” Wei Wuxian says, “Or at the very least, allow him to travel back and forth between both realms.” He waits for a beat, and then continues, “Or we make it so that his situation in heaven won't be the same as Zhinü’s, by which I mean... we make it so you two aren't separated even if Xichen-ge does end up having to stay in heaven.” Jiang Cheng blinks. This time it takes a little longer to sink in. If they aren’t to be separated, if Lan Xichen must stay in heaven… but that would mean—“What I have suggested that you go and do is try to negotiate for Xichen-gē to be allowed to remain on earth. Whilst you're doing that, Lan Zhan and I will be finding out if there is any way to get you to join him in heaven—whoa! Calm down, calm down! It’s not likely to happen just like that!”Jiang Cheng, “Exactly one week ago, we saw Lan Xichen explode up into heaven, and yet you say it’s not likely to happen 'just like that'—” He shakes out his hand, barely managing to tamp down Zidian’s fury before it can destroy the ribbon. Even then, when he raises that same hand to jab Wei Wuxian in the chest, a rogue spark flies across smacking him in the nose.Wei Wuxian squawks, holding up his hands. “Just listen! Cultivation leads to immortality. We’re all headed in that direction already. Unlike Xichen-ge though, you will get to do it at a normal pace. That gives you time that Xichen-ge didn’t have to sort everything out. You could even live a whole lifetime here on earth. You said you wanted to help him. You said you—”“Um.”They both spin around.Jingyi quirks an awkward smile. “I was just thinking, couldn't you just ask our… our guests if all of that is possible instead of going to investigate it elsewhere?” Twisting his sleeve nervously, “I mean, they seem to know a lot. Even if they aren’t actually telling us all of it.”Wei Wuxian points at him. “That's an excellent idea! Precisely why that’s what you are going to be doing.”Jingyi, “Huh?”“It's going to be your job to question them whilst we’re gone,” Wei Wuxian explains, smiling and patting him on the head. “You and the others can squeeze them for more information whilst we’re gone. Do your best, alright? We’re counting on you!”Jingyi sputters.“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng grits out. “Firstly, you are making a lot of assumptions here which I don't agree with. Secondly, I can’t just up and leave Yunmeng Jiang to live in heaven! What good will that do anyway? Lan Xichen wants to stay on earth. Do I need to remind you of the reason why we are doing all this?!"“Are you even listening to me? I said this is just in case! Also, this is running on the assumption that it will take years for you to ascend, okay?” He waits for Jiang Cheng to nod before reaching up to clasp his shoulder. “We can already assume that immortality will happen naturally for you. Look at you! You're already brimming with energy. With an accumulation of virtue, your cultivation will lead you there no problem! What we don’t know is what the requirements are for godhood, or if there are any—”“That's assuming he can ascend in the first place.” Silence. Both of them slowly turn around, Jiang Cheng still holding Wei Wuxian up by the collar. The Monkey King has migrated to an overhanging branch and appears to be eating some type of fruit. He tosses a core aside and takes out another one. “Cultivation is one thing. Accumulation of virtue is another. Then there’s ridding oneself of the Three Poisons.” He gives Jiang Cheng a look. “Sandu Shengshou.” Wei Wuxian frowns, breaking free from Jiang Cheng’s slackened grip. “What exactly are you trying to say?”Sun Wu Kong shrugs.“What I’m saying is that Sect Leader Jiang has suffered greatly in his life and it has had a marked effect on him. Refining oneself through righteous conduct, removing oneself from earthly attachments. Do you know what you call an action that blackens the heart? Something done in anger, revenge or jealousy.” When no one answers him, he clicks his tongue. “That type of offence is known as a demerit.”Even though he says nothing more than that, there’s no need to elaborate on what he means.Who in the cultivation world didn’t know about what happened in Lotus Pier following Yiling Laozu’s demise?Even Wei Wuxian knew by now that the fearsome reputation Jiang Cheng had built came from torturing Wen survivors. Not only that, but anyone he suspected of demonic cultivation. As well as this, they all know the system of accumulating merits and demerits. It is by one’s virtue or misdeeds that the soul becomes refined or corrupted. One way leads to immortality, the other leads to—“Enough demerits might make ascension difficult,” Sun Wu Kong says, buffing yet another fruit against his arm. “Perhaps even impossible.”“Impossible, you say?” Lan Xichen walks over, coming to stand beside the brothers. “In that case, I would say that Wanyin has this well handled.”The Monkey King laughs. “You would, wouldn’t you?”Lan Xichen tilts his head, smiling. “But of course.”Sun Wu Kong, “Be that as it may, I’m just telling you the facts.”Lan Xichen, “So am I. You underestimate him.”Lao Li quickly steps in, “Dàshèng is merely trying to highlight some things that you might want to take into consideration, Zewu-Jun. There’s the matter of his demerits that makes him unsuitable, there are also certain parts of his character that some might find difficult to accept, and then there is of course—” “Catch!”The movement is lightning fast. Jiang Cheng snatches the fruit out of the air. Something about that movement brings about an odd sense of deja vu—but, of course. As he stares at the slightly bruised persimmon, he remembers the peach that Sun Wu Kong had thrown at him. Was it really one of the legendary Peaches of Immortality he had thrown him? The one that he’d smashed in his grip?For a while now he’s been struggling to know what to think. It's true that the Monkey King was only stating well-known facts, but that doesn’t make hearing them any less difficult. Jiang Cheng knows his reputation has closed many doors to him. Even his sect have paid for this. No one wanted to associate with a madman, or risk dirtying themselves with his bloodstained hands. He knows all of this and feels nothing towards it.Staring at the persimmon, the dull acknowledgement of his worth transforms into a sort of bland acceptance.He realises then that Sun Wu Kong tried giving him the peach, but he was the one who blew that chance. Even Lu Dongbin tried offering him that bowl of tāngyuán and he refused it. If he had eaten either of those things, maybe then (Maybe I just want to help. Maybe I’m just nice. Ever think of that?) his immortality would have been guaranteed, if it were given to him instead of earned.It’s exactly when he's thinking this that Lao Li continues: “Then, of course, there is the matter of his golden core.”Before he can even begin to react, Wei Wuxian spits out, “What about his core?”“Even if it belongs to him now, it wasn’t his, to begin with. He did not form it himself. It was given to him,” Sun Wu Kong says, “Which begs the question, can someone attain immortality without their original core? What about the part of it that connects to the soul?”Jiang Cheng has often wondered before, was his core the only thing he lost that day? Was it also his mind? Was it also his soul? Their cores were made so similarly that they burnt with the same fire. Almost identical. What was left once it had been taken? Less than a human, less than a… but he's kept on living, hasn't he? He got back up, even without it, right?
You’ll be the only one left. The only Jiang, last of your blood.
Maybe it's a good thing if he doesn't become immortal. Maybe then, he can see them again one day.“That core has been with him longer than I ever had it! What bullshit is this?” Wei Wuxian’s voice filters through, but it’s as if he is underwater. The muted world, the lack of air. He knew there would be consequences the day he let the Wens take him, but… what was it? He can’t remember. Something—Something falls from his hand. The persimmon rolls across the floor.What is he without his core? The thought rolls around his head.Lan Xichen cannot stand it any longer. He might be overstepping his bounds, but Jiang Cheng’s face has gone horribly pale. Completely blank. It’s scary seeing him like that. He grabs his arm, turning him away from Wei Wuxian, whose expression is contorted in pure rage. Spitting out such vitriol, his words are fierce as sword strikes. Even then, Jiang Cheng doesn't seem to care or doesn't react hearing it.After taking him aside, he pauses for a moment. Whether his touch is welcome or not, Jiang Cheng doesn’t make a single sound when he wraps an arm around him. Wei Wuxian, “—and what grounds are you basing that on when my situation is just the same as his? I’m not even in my original body, so does the core I have now belong to me or Mo Xuanyu? Explain that! Tell me, without my original core, would I be able to ascend or not?”Sun Wu Kong, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you would.”Wei Wuxian, “…what.”Lao Li, “Since you are the one who formed the core that you have now, I would say that it’s possible."“I agree,” Lu Dongbin says. “And for someone like you, it's quite different. You have managed to achieve the impossible time and time again. With you, whether it’s with a core or not, I believe that anything’s possible.”Wei Wuxian, “I only managed to come back thanks to Xiao Xingchen and Mo Xuanyu, and even thanks to you, Dàshèng. I didn’t manage it by myself—”“This is a question of your character, Young Master Wei, not your ability,” Lao Li explains. “Even with that, you are well-equipped for any obstacle you might face. You and Hanguang-Jun have proven yourselves many times over. Not even demonic forces nor grief have managed to corrupt your hearts. The dào embraces men like you, whose actions make the world a better place. You are almost guaranteed to ascend. It's only a matter of time.” How did the conversation turn into this… this complete and utter bullshit? Painting him to be some sort of perfect hero! Praising him for all the wrong reasons! What good is talent compared to hard work? Glossing over all the havoc he's caused, the thousands he's killed, the lives he's wrecked! Ha! The hypocrisy almost makes Wei Wuxian want to laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he does.Throwing his head back… a handful of blurry memories flicker into his mind. How many times did he laugh like this during his time as Yiling Laozu? The sheer nonsense people will come up with—Ah.He cuts off mid-laugh and turns to find Jiang Cheng still caught in some sort of fugue. Lan Xichen is holding his hand and talking to him quietly, but he doesn’t respond at all. The sight of the two of them like this stirs something in Wei Wuxian’s heart, making his eyes feel hot and his throat ache. “Jiang Cheng,” he says, taking his other hand. The fact Zidian doesn't react to him tells him how bad it is. After weighing his options, Wei Wuxian slaps him hard on the cheek. “Listen to me, they’re just trying to mess with your head. The reason these assholes are speaking so loudly is meant to plant a seed of doubt in your mind. Don’t you dare listen to them, Jiang Cheng, you hear me? You know better than that!”Lan Xichen was too surprised the first time, but the next time Wei Wuxian’s hands flies out, he manages to catch it. At least the first slap seemed to knock some sense into Jiang Cheng. Slowly, he reaches up to touch his smarting face. Then the hand travels down to his… his stomach, hovering just above his dantian. He keeps swallowing like he's about to be sick. "Do I know better?" he mutters so quietly, it's likely he is speaking to himself.“Don't listen to them,” Wei Wuxian repeats, waiting until Jiang Cheng meets his gaze. The nod he receives is more of a reflex action. “This is why Lan Zhan and I are going to get a second opinion, okay? Basing everything on one person's account is never a good idea.”“Don’t forget, immortality isn't the bar you have to aim for, but godhood.” Sun Wu Kong swings his legs, biting into another fruit. “Now that’s the clincher, isn't it? How does one even become a god? Is it fate, or by chance, or—”Lan Xichen flicks his sleeve. If the Monkey King had been anyone else, he might have fallen out of the tree. He might have even ended up exploding along with the branch he was sitting on. Instead, he disappears in a blink. The tree shudders for a moment, as if in pain from its branch being torn clean off. Then with a groan, it splits in half and topples over.Wei Wuxian lets out a whistle.This is what properly snaps Jiang Cheng awake.The stump left behind stands right next to another stump, only that one has been scorched black down to the roots. He remembers striking that tree down with Zidian. It was the same tree he'd broken his foot kicking over and over. Jiang Cheng stares in shock. Then he bursts out laughing. Of course, once he sees his brother laughing, Wei Wuxian has to join in too.Who cares if they sound like they’ve lost their marbles? Laughing is always better than crying! Even if he has no idea what’s so funny, he slaps Jiang Cheng on the back.Lan Xichen, “Ah… haha.”He really hadn’t meant to do that at all. There is an edge of hysteria to Jiang Cheng’s laughter. It dies out after only seconds, his expression twisting into a slight grimace. Wei Wuxian follows this up by throwing an arm around him, jostling the man without any care for his safety.“We can do this,” he tells him, “Just you and me, Xichen-ge and Lan Zhan. We don’t need that damn monkey’s help. You said it yourself, you told me—what did you tell me all those months ago? Say it, Jiang Cheng.”After all these years, it shouldn't be easy to pinpoint what he’s talking about, but Jiang Cheng knows as if peeking into his own mind. The two have always known how to continue each other’s words ever since they were young. “The worst thing we can do is not try.”“Attempt the impossible,” Lan Xichen says gently. Instead of those words raising his hackles, it takes Jiang Cheng back to the first time he spent an afternoon writing poems in the Gentian House. Lan Xichen had been watching him, and then he said: I think it depends on how you read it, but to me, your motto can be summed up in fewer words, actually. Picking apart his family motto and giving him... telling him to—Jiang Cheng, “Be courageous.” Lan Xichen’s eyes widen. Then he smiles, his face soft with tenderness. “That's right.”
The next morning, there's no time to waste, and yet—he spends almost half an hour searching for Jiang Cheng! Running around like a headless chicken!He never actually told him where he and Lan Zhan were going, and if he leaves without doing that… well, it's not likely anything will happen, but just in case. Out of the two of them, Jiang Cheng has always been the worrier. As of right now, the last thing Wei Wuxian wants to do is add to the poor man’s troubles. When Jiang Cheng starts worrying, he will never stop. Whilst this makes him a terrific sect leader, guardian and brother, Wei Wuxian doesn’t envy his blood pressure.In truth, he’s genuinely quite worried about how much pressure he's under. After so much bending, even the youngest bamboo is liable to break.There is also another reason he needs to tell him about this. There cannot be any more secrets between them. He will not allow it.It’s both surprising and not-at-all surprising when he finds him at the gates. The best thing about Yunmeng Jiang purple robes is how easy they are to spot in a crowd. With the Spiders also standing either side of him, he appears to be waiting for something, or somebody. Wei Wuxian considers this. It's just past dawn. How long has he been standing there?As he approaches them, each step seems to take him back months.It was only for a brief moment, just before one of the Immortals was found trespassing in the Cloud Recesses. Jiang Cheng's striking figure had been stark against the morning light when he'd seen Jin Ling off. And then he stood there, waiting. The image superimposes itself when Jiang Cheng turns to face him. Has he slept at all? Dark circles, grey skin, blue eyes burning in his face.Wei Wuxian pauses to let the Spiders pass, and once left alone with his brother, the first thing he says is, “You look terrible.”Jiang Cheng huffs a breath. How tired must he be for his voice to sound like a whispering wind? Even then, his eyes are painfully alert. “Where will you be going?”It’s difficult to answer, but he told himself he would. “There is one immortal I know of who we can ask for advice.”Perhaps he had already been expecting that answer. Perhaps he’s too tired to care. Years ago, Jiang Cheng’s eyes lit up at the mention of this celestial master, but now the mention of her seems to suck the life out of his bones. “Not this again,” he sighs. “You’ve done this to me once before. That was once too many.”Wei Wuxian bites his lip. “Last time, it… I was stupid. I know that now. I shouldn't have—”“Whatever. It’s done.”Jiang Cheng turns towards the sunrise, the golden light casting him in even more shadows. Wei Wuxian can’t help but stare at him, trying to find softness somewhere in the knife-sharp angles of his face. He knows the memories he has of Jiang Cheng are either rose-tinted or blood-stained, but underneath all of them are two brothers trying their best. Jiang Cheng may have changed so much, but not where it counts.“Baoshan Sanren,” he says. “Do you even know where to find her, or will you just be checking every mountain you pass?”No lies, no false hope. With only a little false confidence, he says, “Actually, I’m hoping that as her student’s son, there might be a chance that she will find me instead.”It was the same hope he had for Lan Xichen finding Guanyin, otherwise how else might they find these celestial beings? The best they can do is try to summon them. Immortality gives a person powers beyond mortal comprehension. One as ancient as Baoshan Sanren must have the ability to sense where she is needed. It was part of her mission, as far as Wei Wuxian knew, that whilst she never left her mountain, she had her ways of helping those in need.Jiang Cheng grunts. “I suppose we'll be doing the same. At least Guanyin has loads of shrines. What are you going to do though? Stick some joss sticks in the ground and pray you don’t summon a demon? You would deserve it for all the shit you pulled on me back then.”This startles a snort out of him. He did feed Jiang Cheng quite a lot of nonsense to lure him up the mountain… thinking about that though, something dawns on him right then. “We need to talk about this someday. We need to…” he trails off, ironically unable to complete that sentence.These are the indigestible thoughts he's kept to himself.
That core is not responsible for all your accomplishments. All it did was keep you alive. Do you know how you were when I found you? You were talking nonsense. You said you wanted to die. Jiang Cheng—
“Why?” Jiang Cheng crosses his arms, every stiff movement betraying his unease. “Wen Ning already told me everything. What else is there to talk about? We both know what happened. It's over. Let’s move on.”A breeze toys with the ends of Jiang Cheng’s hair, carrying with it the scent of lotus flowers and rain. There it is, Wei Wuxian thinks. The softness, or the nostalgia, which Jiang Cheng carries with him everywhere. The memories he cannot leave behind, not even past death.“Where should we meet up then?”“Jiang Cheng.”“Twenty-three days are left. Let's say that in no less than a week, whatever happens, we—”“Jiang Cheng, why are you doing this?” He asked him this before. The answer was not important really. What he wants is for Jiang Cheng to be honest with himself—to acknowledge his feelings, even if he won't say them aloud. The intention is sometimes just as important, if not more important than the goal. He wants to stay here. I want to help him. Wei Wuxian still cannot understand what it is that’s holding him back, but one thing he knows is that it’s going to grow into a problem if Jiang Cheng isn't careful. Despite him choosing to take a stand, Wei Wuxian can see that in his heart, he's still running away. The passion that usually commands every burst of anger, every flicker of joy or disgust… where has it gone? Why is it that even after he has married the one he loves, he still looks so miserable?“If you aren’t going to say anything, listen to your shīxiōng’s advice then,” he says, forcing Jiang Cheng to listen with the gravity of his tone. “The time you have with Lan Xichen could be twenty-three days, or less, or more. Even though I am confident we will win this, there's no guarantee for what the outcome will be. Knowing this, what is the point in being cautious with oneself when what matters is only how you feel? What does it matter what others think?”“It’s not that,” Jiang Cheng replies.“Trust me, when this is all over, you don’t want to look back at all the time you wasted when you could have been happy. You will come to regret it.” This is the one lesson he would teach everyone if he could. Time was precious, and time with loved ones was even more precious. It's not worth the safety silence brings to pretend that everything is alright. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d need me to tell you that.” “Wei Wuxian, it’s not…” Jiang Cheng bites his lip.He knows what the other is trying to say, but this has been the one thing they have always disagreed on. Where Wei Wuxian is a bleeding heart, opening his arms to welcome the world, he has always been far more cautious with himself. Why does it matter what others think? Before, he would have said that his face was just that thin. Now it's different. Now, he couldn’t care less about what others think. It's not about that at all.“Do you remember Jasmine?” he hears himself ask. The abrupt topic change wasn’t planned. When Wei Wuxian only raises his eyebrows in confusion, he adds, “Princess, Little Love.”“Oh, your dogs.” Wei Wuxian smiles grimly. “How could I forget?”“Your memory is terrible,” he answers automatically, but then: “I had those dogs only two weeks before you came and yet, I still miss them. And yet, I still get angry when I think about them.”It sounds pathetic in his head, but what dignity does he have left anymore? A few dogs were nothing compared to all the losses they’ve faced, but then again, he rebuilt his life from nothing. Often it's what you don't have that ruins everything that you do, and yet—he is the one who refuses to get a dog, even though that part of his life is over. It's as they say, you can't be bitter and expect your life to be sweet. Wei Wuxian, “What are you trying to say?”“I’m saying that that’s just the person I am,” Jiang Cheng says dully. “I can never let things go.”The dogs were indeed both a metaphor and an example. After thinking it through, Wei Wuxian decides to give up on being indirect. One last effort. “Is it not better to have loved and lost him than never to have loved him at all? Does he not deserve that?” Jiang Cheng immediately says, “He has that.”Wei Wuxian, “…?!”Jiang Cheng, “As I said before, it’s done.” If that’s the case, what exactly is the problem here?!Jiang Cheng lifts his chin. Almost as if they've been summoned, two nearly identical white figures emerge from the main house. Outwardly, there’s not a trace of anything on his face. Wei Wuxian can’t help but find that disturbing. A man in love shouldn’t look like a caged bird. “Maybe it would be better for others, to love and lose, but not for me.” Jiang Cheng lets out a shaky breath, forcing a chuckle. “Hóuwáng was right. I really am far too attached.”“Jiang Cheng,” he whispers, wide-eyed.The Jades stay at a polite distance, but Jiang Cheng seems to be finished with the conversation. As soon as he’s gathered his things, he turns to Wei Wuxian and says, “Good luck.”Wei Wuxian blinks rapidly. Why does that sound so ominous? Why does Jiang Cheng have to be so... “I’ll see you at Lotus Pier,” he decides without thinking.Jiang Cheng cracks a smile. “Take care of yourself, Wei Ying.”As he walks away, Wei Wuxian (Wei Ying) watches him and Lan Xichen fly off on their swords through blurry eyes. He stands there until their forms flicker out of sight, and the glorious dawn bleeds through his tears. Wei Ying, Lan Zhan murmurs, folding him into his arms. This time, he is the one rooted in place. Unable to move away for the longest time. Unable to shake the horrible feeling that time is running out.
“'Do your best', he says. 'We’re counting on you', he says,” Jingyi mutters, pinching his nose. It’s quite a feat, given that he’s running at the same time. “Thanks a lot, Senior Wei!”It’s clear as day to him now that they’ve been tricked. This is madness. Utter madness. The moment the seniors left, the Eight Immortals scattered all over the place. Ever since then, it's been like trying to herd cats! Who would have thought his favourite literary heroes would be this troublesome in real life?!“That’s literally who they are, Jingyi!” Sizhui tears past him to chase after Lu Dongbin. The legendary sword-master has stolen some ancient scrolls and is juggling them on the roof. Both Mini Jades leap up at the same time, but as soon as they land—he vanishes! That must be the last straw for Sizhui. He looks like he's about to cry. “Why does this keep happening?” From their vantage point, it's much easier to appreciate exactly how fucked they are. Below them, five juniors are running after Zhang Guo Lao, who has commandeered Little Apple. The madness spreads varying in degrees and types, with most of the juniors clearly enjoying themselves (far too much) playing around with magical tools, or otherwise revelling in the drunken tales of these legendary figures.Jingyi can’t help pouting. He would love to join them too, but he cups both hands around his mouth, “HONOURED GUESTS, PLEASE REMEMBER THAT DRINKING IS FORBIDDEN IN THE CLOUD RECESSES!!!”“Trust me, you don't want to see any of us sober.”He absolutely doesn’t screech and jumps one foot in the air.Lao Li returns the pilfered scrolls to Sizhui. “Babysitting is never fun. The trick is to know how to soothe the crying infant.”Jingyi, “Does it have to be with alcohol?”Lao Li merely gives him a look.“Shīxiōng!” a voice calls out. Both Mini Jades turn to find Xiao Ouyang also on the roof. He must have… wait, he can’t fly yet! How did he even get up here?! The boy scrambles over, eyes shining with excitement. “Master Li, please will you teach this disciple the Drunken Fist technique? This disciple has read that—”“One needs to be drunk for that, young master,” Lao Li replies, patting the boy's head, “Which is strictly forbidden by your sect’s rules…”JingYi swears he only looks away for a split second. Jin Ling’s enraged yell has him and Sizhui spinning around, but the Young Mistress is only bickering with Ouyang Zizhen about something. (Is he really threatening an Immortal?!) That’s when he hears a thump. When he turns back— “What happened?!”Lao Li, “It was just a sip.”No wonder Teacher decided to sit this one out.Sizhui lets out a startled cry. Spinning around again, he almost can’t believe his eyes! All the juniors are flat out on the ground! The sight chills his blood, but Sizhui checks Xiao Ouyang over and whimpers in relief. Ouyang Zizhen also signals an ‘a-okay’, though he and Jin Ling are completely surrounded by unconscious children. “B… But how did the others…?” “It’s fine,” Lao Li says. “It is not fine!” Jingyi squawks.He is about to say something else, but then Lao Li disappears as well. Maybe this is meant to be their punishment? Hanguang-Jun certainly didn’t protest when Senior Wei told them to do this. It’s difficult to know what they should do next, but Sizhui then calls the others over. The Spiders also come over and start moving the unconscious disciples over to one side.“Alright, here's the plan,” Sizhui says seriously. “Firstly, we find out where they've all gone. After that…” He makes a strangled noise. “After that what? Where could they possibly have gone? All of them at once, like that! And now there are only four of us left—”Jin Ling asks the Spiders, “Aren't you going to help?”Linzhen replies, “We’re supervising.”Jin Ling, “…” Ouyang Zizhen pulls one of the scrolls out of Sizhui’s arms. “Isn’t that your family register?”It is indeed the family register. Why would a drunkard want to steal that? Then again, trying to make sense of drunken thoughts was pointless. Strange though, since it’s the same scroll Senior Jiang and Zewu-Jun signed only yesterday at their… as soon as Jingyi thinks that, Sizhui turns to him, and they say at the same time: “The Ancestral Hall!”The hall is completely silent when they arrive.Jingyi’s heart immediately picks up when he spots some unusual silhouettes lurking in the shadows. They are definitely the Immortals, each one of them as motionless as a statue. How disturbing, he thinks, at least until one of them lets out a massive snore. He counts only six figures, but that’s because Lao Li and Lu Dongbin are standing near the hollowed-out windows further up ahead.Lao Li mutters, “Took you long enough.”The four of them shuffle their feet. It's obvious now that they were led here, but for what reason? The air is heavy with incense. Jin Ling boldly steps forward, “We have questions.”Lao Li nods, “Ask away.”Jin Ling, “…”Lao Li, “…” Jin Ling, “Explain the wager.”At first, Jingyi wants to laugh because that wasn't a question! That was an order! Also, why would Jin Ling think it will work when Zhinü herself refused to speak of it? It’s then, of course, that Lao Li goes, “It’s quite simple really…” As he says, the wager is rather simple.The story goes that after Zhinü’s return to heaven, seeing so many of her children suffering from the curse, her heart broke again and again the more she remembered her husband and his dying wish. The effects of this were devastating.As her grief prevented her from weaving the clouds, the boundary between heaven and earth began to wear away. It was then that the Jade Emperor decided to give his daughter one chance. She could choose one of her descendants to become her champion, and if they managed to defy their fate and somehow have it not end in tragedy, the heaven-made curse would then be broken.On this condition, he would allow her to reunite with her husband, and after that, she would be free to leave heaven to be with him.Wei Wuxian’s return shocked everyone because Mo Xuanyu’s sacrifice returned him to the same life he had abandoned, therefore giving him a second chance to live it, but this time without fate guiding him. As they all knew thereafter, he and Hanguang-Jun managed to get their happy ending despite their struggles and strife, all of which proved that breaking the curse was, in fact, possible—“But why pick Zewu-Jun to be her champion then? That makes no sense,” Ouyang Zizhen interrupts. “Why not choose Hanguang-Jun? He has ended up doing quite well with Senior Wei. Would he not have made a more promising candidate?”Jingyi bristles, “Are you trying to say that Zewu-Jun isn't good enough?”Before he can reply, Lu Dongbin speaks, “It's not about being ‘good enough’, and even the descriptor of ‘choosing’ a champion is inaccurate. This was another fate bound choice. Lady Zhinü ‘chose’ her champion long before he was even formed from dust, long before she had committed her perceived crime, long before any of this happened.”Jingyi, “…” Ouyang Zizhen, “…” Sizhui, “Is this to do with cyclicality again? The Wheel of Time?”“Hrnn, not bad, not bad…” Lao Li strokes his beard. “Anyway, regarding the appointing of a champion, the problem was that for a long time Lady Zhinü refused to announce who he was. She knew that her attention would draw her father’s eye, that would place a target on his back. She feared that if she exposed him she would not be able to protect him.”For years and years, she dared not look at any of her descendants too closely. Regardless of her inattention, whenever a child of hers became too daring, they would be struck down with misfortune. It was not always love that caused this, unrequited or otherwise; certainly, it was common that most marriages would fail, but otherwise—tragedy would follow every moment of happiness.Zhinü kept on weaving, kept her gaze averted, kept her silence. Things only changed when a child was seen wandering amongst the clouds. Even Zhinü couldn’t ignore that oddity, because such a thing had never happened before. A few years later, Guanyin came to give the Emperor her report. During this visit, she mentioned having seen that same child down on earth as well.It was this that caught heaven’s attention.“Oh nooo…” Jingyi clutches his face. “But why would Guanyin say that?”“She was only making a passing observation,” Lao Li says dismissively. “I can only remember her saying that he reminded her of Zhinü, and that his resilience, even at his young age, was particularly striking. She probably had no idea what effect her words would have. In that meeting, she never made any mention of wanting him to become her disciple though.” Jingyi, “But could it be that that was enough to convince the Emperor to start throwing misfortune down at Zewu-Jun? Is that why his life has been so difficult?!”“It’s hard to say how much of that from heavenly intervention, but certainly some of it probably was.”“Fuck,” Jin Ling says with feeling.“It was both this and Young Master Wei’s resurrection that indicated things were going to be different this time around. That was when the Emperor began to panic, and Zhinü began to hope—”“But why force him to ascend like that? Even if the Emperor wanted to keep him bound to his fate…” To fall as a man, and rise as a dragon. The more JingYi thinks about it, the less it makes sense. “Wouldn’t that happen anyway without being forced? What does Senior Wei’s return have to do with Zewu-Jun's ascension?”“Think about what happened right after the incident at Guanyin Temple,” Lu Dongbin says. “Your Senior Wei’s return uncovered thirteen years of deception, and in the aftermath of that devastation, your Zewu-Jun—” “Went into seclusion,” Sizhui exclaims with wide eyes. “And then his meditation… his connection to heaven got cut off.”“Grief can do terrible things to a person. The soul becomes isolated, and thus is made vulnerable. That was when Tiān Gōng decided to put his request through, expediting Zewu-Jun's ascension. With all of his spiritual energy being drawn heavenwards to form his new core, he was unable to use it for cultivation or to access heaven. On top of that, the process of Zewu-Jun’s ascension was always going to be strange compared to most, because—”
“He's a dragon,” Jingyi says.
“—a dragon’s soul is definitely too much for a mortal body to contain. Ordinarily, his body would have had time to adapt to his growing cultivation, but instead it happened… well. You know how it happened. Forcing his ascension like that was causing his body to deteriorate, but there was also another thing that did gave him the final push.”
Lu Dongbin asks, “What do you boys know about heavenly tribulations?” “…” Ouyang Zizhen recites, “Typically it's a lightning storm. Since immortal cultivation is said to defy the Will of Heaven, the heavens send down tribulations to test their skill—”“That is how it usually goes, but again—for Zewu-Jun, his tribulation was quite different in that it was not a test of skill against a foe. Instead, he was quite literally given a tribulation. Do you know what that word means? It means ‘a cause of great trouble or suffering’. In his case, that came in the form of a person.”JingYi’s face scrunches up. “A person?” “In fact, the tribulation came in the form of a very sleep-deprived man sent straight into the Cloud Recesses.” Lao Li is watching them carefully for any reactions, but none of them gets it. (Sleep-deprived man?) “Of course, that man was also planning to answer his brother’s wedding invitation, which was incidentally written by Zewu-Jun himself.”“Jiùjiu?” Jin Ling gasps.Zewu-Jun's heavenly tribulation had been his uncle? But then, all this time… but he was there on that day when Uncle came to answer that invitation! Thinking back, he remembers how the previously clear skies filled with clouds, and then… there was a flash of (purple?) what he thought was lightning. Seeing lightning on a perfectly clear late-spring day? Was his mind playing tricks, or was that really how Uncle had arrived?“He wouldn’t have realised it himself,” Lao Li says. “He had his own reasons for coming, but there was also something else pushing him into action. When he came, he flew straight in without being detected. No one suspected him of trespassing because he is trusted by Gusu Lan, but ask yourselves this: how did he manage to get past those protective barriers like that without a jade token?”That was true. At that time, Jiang Cheng hadn't received a jade token yet. That happened so long ago that it hadn't crossed anyone's minds! If it was by Heaven’s will… “But how can Senior Jiang be a tribulation?” Sizhui asks. “Zewu-Jun clearly passed the test because he managed to ascend, but… in order to do that, what did he do?”Lao Li scoffs, “What did he do? He fell in love.”A shocked silence falls, that last word echoing around the corridors.Ouyang Zizhen blinks rapidly. “This… this is about love?”“This is about making choices,” Lao Li corrects brusquely, “In all his previous lifetimes, Zewu-Jun’s life has always followed a strict set of rules. His many responsibilities and misfortunes provided enough obstacles that there was never time for worldly distractions.”Jin Ling immediately says, “My uncle is not a distraction.” “No, but he presents a path that Zewu-Jun has never considered before. For all his life, duty has kept him bound to fate. The same went for his fated partner. This would often prevent them from being anything more than casual acquaintances, but sometimes it would be a matter of circumstance that kept them apart.”Lu Dongbin, “They lacked yuánfèn[4] until now.” Was it as simple as that? They needed more time together, they needed to be—Lao Li, “Either way, there was never a path for them, or none that they could see.”“Is that it, then?” Jin Ling bursts out. His face is completely white. Though he attended his uncle’s wedding just yesterday, this is a different type of feeling. When Lao Li doesn’t reply fast enough, he finds himself adding, “That means this was a matter of circumstance as well. Uncle Wei marrying into Gusu Lan brought jiùjiu here, joining the families together in more than alliances."At the same time, Zewu-Jun was becoming unwell, which was why jiùjiu was asked to look after him.”It all fits.Jingyi feels like he’s about to explode. He forces his slack mouth to work, “But… it’s been done then, hasn’t it? They got married. They’ve managed to—”“How did falling in love allow Zewu-Jun to pass his tribulation?”“Often it is said that to love in secret is a cause for suffering, but also… it was quite literally his love that tied him to the earth. Since his ascension was already underway, the more attached he became, the more heaven tugged at his soul. A mortal body cannot bear that much strain. The deeper he fell, the more his spirit soared.”Sizhui grits his teeth. “You lied to him. You said it was a result of his cultivation.”Lao Li waves him aside. “He knew I wasn't telling the truth because I am not allowed to, and even if I could—how would it help him to know that it was his own heart that betrayed him?”The deeper he fell, the more his spirit soared. To fall as a man and rise as a dragon. But then, being pulled in two different directions, did… did that mean Zewu-Jun was literally torn apart? Jingyi claps a hand to his mouth, feeling his stomach revolt. The tribulation the Emperor chose was too cruel! “Why would something like this exist?! An ordeal like this is really too much!”Jin Ling rages, “What type of a lousy punishment is this?!”“It’s like the myth,” Ouyang Zizhen says, wiping his damp face. “The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, except both of them were on earth already, so to separate them, one has to go to heaven—”“Ahh,” Lao Li nods.Ouyang Zizhen sniffles. “A…ahh?”“Come, children, look at this,” the old man orders, walking across to the hollowed-out windows. "Now, which one is it?"Knowing what they do now, it’s difficult to look at any of the carved scenes without being affected.As far as tragic endings go, Jin Ling finds himself lingering in front of the carving depicting daolu. Becoming cultivation partners. Yesterday was not what he would call a happy occasion. Uncle had been stressed out, and there were no celebrations, no door-games nor a wedding banquet. The carved window shows the small figures of Lan An and Zhinü are huddled close together.It’s hard to tell if they are happy or not, but… could Uncle be happy with Zewu-Jun? If they don't manage to keep him on earth, will Uncle have to go up to heaven to be with him?In the end, all he wants is his uncle to be happy, but… this type of knowledge is rather difficult to stomach.Jin Ling numbly forces himself to follow the others, meanwhile thinking over what their options are. Either they will end up in heaven or on earth together, or they will be eternally separated. A lot is at stake here. Far more than just them… but is it bad that his main concern is this stealing Uncle away forever? Is it childish of him to want his jiùjiu to stay, no matter what?The first out of the four of them to react is Sizhui. The window they have stopped at is guiji: ‘returning to nothingness’. His gaze moves between Zhinü to Lan An several times. “Is this the reason why you led us to the Ancestral Hall? To show us this?”Lu Dongbin comes up next to him. “Lan Jin was good at carving, I’ll give him that, but his father would not be happy with how he’s been depicted. A cowherd,” he snorts. “And what’s with this hairstyle? Or should I say, where is his hair at all—”Ouyang Zizhen, “That’s what a monk's shaven head looks like though. And the cowherd… actually, could you explain the cowherd part? How can Lan An be both a monk, and a cowherd, and a cultivator?”Lu Dongbin lets out a laugh, “None of you rich young masters will know what being a rogue cultivator involves, but let me tell you, the sorts of jobs you get landed with can be very strange. Sometimes it is fighting monsters, other times it is exorcising spirits. Sometimes though, it far a more mundane task, such as herding cows.”“...”Lao Li clears his throat. “I’m glad he doesn’t know. His lost soul would lose itself again.” Lu Dongbin chortles, “But to be remembered as a monk and a cowherd! When this is all over, I'm going to go tell him this myself!”Jin Ling, “You mean he’ll come back?”Lao Li, “Presumably to reunite him with Zhinü, the Emperor will need to recover his soul.”One couldn’t help but think: if it was as simple as recovering his soul, was the Emperor so miserly that he couldn’t even do that much out of kindness? What if there was nothing left to repair by now? With how many centuries had passed, what hope was there that his soul could be recovered?“You knew him?” Jingyi asks incredulously. “What was he like?”Both Immortals exchange a look. Lao Li answers, “He was a good man. Devoted to his family, hard-working, stubborn and kind… but we’re getting off-topic. Back to this,” pointing at the carved window, “Do any of you know where this is? I feel like I know it from somewhere.”Jingyi squints. “Master, this is quite an artistic depiction, so most of the details can't be accurate. To be honest, I’m not even sure if this is a real place.”“But look at those mountains. Don’t they seem familiar to you?” Lao Li leans in to examine it closer. “Shīdì, is that not the mountain range bordering Yunmeng? It would be the time shortly after Zhinü was returned. See how this peak remains as it has been since we met? It hasn't changed. Not in all these centuries.”Lu Dongbin nods slowly.“I think you’re right. Young masters,” he announces, “Sometimes it helps to understand what is happening when you know the location a bit better. If this is that mountain range, the scene gains some context. See where Zhinü’s gaze is directed? This is Lan Jin depicting the scene he saw when his mother was being taken back to heaven. You can tell from these mountains that the direction she is looking at is facing the sea.”The sea? Jin Ling waits for the others to piece it together, but perhaps they are too stupid or too upset. “The sea-lord, you idiots!” he snaps. “Lan Yu, Jiang Chi? Remember them?”“Ah, Lan Yu,” Lu Dongbin sighs. “Best warrior I've ever met. She wanted revenge for him taking her mother away, and rightly so. 'Sea-lord’, though? That's a funny way of saying dragon.”Dragon?! Dragon?!! Jingyi’s mind feels like it's about to break. First, it turns out that within their whole ‘blind men with an elephant’ parable, the elephant is, in fact, a dragon; then it turns out that dragon is, in fact, Zewu-Jun; and now there seems to be a second dragon?! Luckily, Sizhui takes over speaking for him, and asks in a strained voice, “What does this dragon have to do with our current situation?”“Oh… probably nothing. I was just curious. The scene looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite work out the location,” Lao Li explains. “It’s been bothering me since I saw it.”Sizhui thinks to himself:If he couldn’t work out the location, brought them there, and then only discussed his thoughts with Lu Dongbin to confirm his thoughts aloud, what exactly was the point in bringing them there in the first place?! It was obviously to give them this information. The struggle is in knowing what to say or ask with these Immortals since they know they are bound to secrecy on most things, but telling them about the wager, telling them about this dragon… these are all clues, so this must have some relevance as well. He asks, “Why are you telling us this?” “As immortals, we're not meant to meddle with mortal affairs,” Lao Li says, reaching up to touch the peak of a carved mountain. “Regarding Zewu-Jun and Jiang Wanyin however, both of whom are directly involved with the wager, there is the loophole through their divine blood. That gives us some leeway. Thanks to Zhinü, the godblood which flows through their veins means that these are no longer strictly mortal affairs.” That’s when several things start to click into place. Saying 'their' divine blood confirms that Jiang Cheng is also a descendant of Zhinü through Lan Yu. The wager is dependent on a champion being chosen. This champion is someone whose identity Zhinü has refused to disclose, and closely guarded for many years for their own safety. The argument over Jiang Cheng’s eligibility to ascend being turned into praise for Wei Wuxian’s accomplishments was... a diversion? Something to redirect the focus away from—“Do you pity Zhinü?” Jingyi asks out of nowhere, his voice strangely soft as he peers up at the window. “Is that why you’re helping Zewu-Jun?”Lao Li’s eyes slide away from Sizhui. After a moment, he answers, “It’s tiring seeing them suffering needlessly.”
She was only making a passing observation.
But could it be that that convinced the Emperor to start throwing misfortune down at Zewu-Jun? Is that why his life has been so difficult?!
Jiang Cheng's life has also been difficult.Looking over everything again, it's almost too easy to believe that a man like Zewu-Jun would be a Goddess’ first choice. Not only one Goddess, in fact, but two. His innate kindness, his esteemed reputation, his countenance, his high cultivation and otherworldly grace; the fact he could reach heaven through meditation... all of these were proof of his godly fate, but the question was: has Zhinü ever actually said he was her champion herself? Sizhui almost wants to laugh. All this time, everyone has been making assumptions that it was Zewu-Jun! So much so that even the Emperor was convinced! “Tiān Gōng has grown overconfident—what?” Lao Li snorts when Lu Dongbin shoots him a warning glance. “It’s true, and I’m allowed to say it. He thinks he’s so clever giving Zewu-Jun a month to try his best to win this, but if they are fated and if they’ve come this far... haha, if I were him, I would be worried!”Was it cruel to use Zewu-Jun as a scapegoat? Perhaps. But Jiang Cheng had suffered the same sorts of misfortunes as Zewu-Jun has. This likely means that even though he wasn’t targeted, he still ended up punished in a roundabout way. Even if Zhinü had spoken up later about it, it would have only endangered Jiang Cheng, and… Sizhui realises now that it would probably have made no difference after a certain point.It would have led towards the same situation as they were in right now, because—in the end, this was not about one or the other.In the end, this was about them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights. But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.You would know in words that which you have always known in thought. You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.And it is well you should.
— Kahlil Gibran, "Self-Knowledge"
Flying has always been a pleasure.The first time he took Shuoyue soaring through the sky, he felt so at home among the clouds that he refused to come down for hours. With his spirit rising to meet those heights, it was there that he found solace far away from everything. Quickly, it became one of his favourite ways to cultivate, lost in the velvet skies, so endless and free. No longer untouchable. No longer out of reach.Lan Xichen loved nothing more than to let the breeze carry him up higher and higher.After months of being earthbound, he feels like a bird released from its cage. Looking back over the months of illness... so much has happened since then. So much has changed. For example, the fact that he can command the winds means that although he is the one following behind Jiang Cheng, he is also the one guiding their flight. Every time he glances at the person ahead of him, he wonders how they have never flown together before. During the war, they travelled mostly on foot, and they were paying more attention to their surroundings than one another. Back then there was so much going on that they barely spoke a word about anything other than business. The shadow of grief that fell on them had been so heavy that talking had been impossible, and now… now it is also difficult.Jiang Cheng hasn’t spoken a word since they left the Cloud Recesses, nor has he given any indication of what he is feeling. Whilst Lan Xichen can tell that he isn’t angry with him, it’s clear that he’s keeping something to himself. Something painful, by the look of things.Lan Xichen’s lips still burn from that kiss. He still cannot understand where he went wrong. It all happened so fast. All he can remember is the warmth of Jiang Cheng’s tears and the taste of blood on his lips. If this has ruined things between them, he’ll never forgive himself. Surely months of friendship cannot be lost with this one mistake? Jiang Cheng cuts a glance at him, pointing down at a small merchant town that runs along the border of Gusu. Once they have landed, it’s right as Lan Xichen is re-sheathing Shuoyue that Jiang Cheng gives him another look. After a moment, he smiles. “Wanyin?”Biting his lip, Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “Never mind.”They continue towards the town in silence. Lan Xichen walks behind Jiang Cheng, his smile flickering on and off sporadically. It’s painful to keep up the pretence that everything is alright when it clearly isn’t. Something here is broken. Without the comfort of their usual rapport, he feels hopelessly lost. If only he knew the reason for this misunderstanding, maybe then he might have a chance of fixing it.Before leaving, Jiang Cheng gave him his forehead ribbon back, which meant that he had no choice but to give back the bell. What bothers him is that whilst they might be married (cultivation partners, wedded before the Heaven and Earth) from their outward appearances, there is nothing to indicate that they are married, except for—Jiang Cheng spins around, his hair swinging out behind him. Lan Xichen follows the movement with his eyes. Except for that, he thinks wistfully. Jiang Cheng’s hair left unbound, his purple ribbon woven through the braids. Falling down to his waist, rippling in the breeze, swaying with every little movement… whilst Jiang Cheng was already handsome before, it’s incredible how one little change like this has managed to make him even more strikingly beautiful—“You don’t need Shuoyue to fly anymore, do you?” The question catches him by surprise. Is that why Jiang Cheng was staring at him just now? “No, I don’t,” he answers. “But perhaps it was out of habit that I—”“You should continue using a sword even if you don’t need it,” Jiang Cheng interrupts, his mouth snapping shut immediately afterwards. “Sorry, I just mean that it’s probably not a good idea to shock the cultivation world too much. Flying without a sword? They already won’t be expecting to see you out in public, but now that you are like this...”“Is it that obvious?” Jiang Cheng looks away. At first, Lan Xichen thinks that he isn’t going to answer, but then he says, “You’re like a star that has fallen to Earth. Tell me if that sounds subtle to you.”Lan Xichen’s hands curl into fists. “I see.” “All I’m saying is that people tend to freak out when they cannot understand something, so if they were to see you like this… if they were to—”“Right.”“Their brains are just too small,” Jiang Cheng deadpans, startling a laugh out of him. His eyes widen a little, mouth twitching. “The less they know, the more they tend to talk. We’ve said this before. Do you still agree?”Lan Xichen nods. “I do.”Jiang Cheng hums, looking askance. “But you’re really able to fly without a sword, aren’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question. Jiang Cheng’s footsteps don’t falter, but his words fall so flat that they almost cause Lan Xichen to stumble. That carefully detached tone has his scalp prickling with tension.Jiang Cheng, “What does it feel like?”“Not that different, really,” Lan Xichen replies. “And it’s still a comfort to fly with Shuoyue. As it always has been, and always will be. I still prefer—”“We’re here.”The town sprawls over the foothills of nearby rugged mountains.Snow has built up on the half-buried stone path, only muddy where the odd traveller has left footprints. Jiang Cheng has no outer protection other than his usual robes but shows no signs of discomfort. Lan Xichen, on the other hand… it’s not the cold weather that bothers him the further they walk, but the sinking realisation that this is his first time outside the Cloud Recesses since attending the Qixi Festival at Lotus Pier. Back then, with the boys running around, their excitement had been infectious. Even back then he’d been so eager to see Jiang Cheng and to enjoy the festival (that he so hated) that he didn’t stop to consider what others might think if they saw him. With the ridiculous disguise they had concocted, it was a miracle that they got away with it, but… now?Even without having seen his own reflection, there’s no way to conceal his godliness. (You’re like a star that has fallen to Earth. Tell me if that sounds subtle to you.) It’s inevitable that he will stick out like a sore thumb or, indeed, like an actual dragon among men.
The thought isn’t comforting at all.
As they enter the town, Lan Xichen finds himself taking smaller steps. Looking ahead at the dark specks of people dotted amongst the snow, it occurs to him that the time they have spent together has always been spent at the Cloud Recesses, barring that one time at the Festival. Despite all the changes between them, the leaps and bounds they have made, will any of that carry over to a more public setting? Jiang Cheng has always been extremely private, rarely showing much in the way of affection. People know him to be sharp-tongued, with no patience for niceties beyond that which was required. None of that is the Jiang Cheng he has come to know, but perhaps that is the person he will become again. Why does the thought of that make him nervous? Maybe it is because they’re married that the thought of being treated like a friend or mere acquaintance doesn’t sit well with him. Even if it’s just around others—Oh, he is a fool. They might be wedded before Heaven and Earth, but as far as the rest of the world knows… he and Jiang Cheng have never had any personal connections. The closer they come to the sounds of civilisation, the more his stomach clenches like a coiled spring. Suddenly, there are eyes following them everywhere. Voices buzzing in his ears. No doubt the townsmen must be quite surprised to see two prominent cultivators coming in from the wilderness, or perhaps they’re simply surprised to see him.
“Is that Zewu-Jun? No, surely not. What would he be doing in a place like this?”
“Sect Leader Lan? That’s him, isn’t it? He looks good.”
“Are you stupid? He always looks good, you ninny—”
For Lan Xichen, seclusion was never meant as a reprieve.It was a form of self-punishment, because how else could a high-level cultivator such as himself be punished? It was meant to be penance paid on behalf of his sworn brother. All of this means that to come out of seclusion like this… he can’t imagine what it must seem like to others having him come back to society, radiant with spiritual energy and clearly brimming with life.“Maybe I should…” He’s about to say maybe I should stay behind, but then he trails off. The whole point is for him to be the one to summon Guanyin. There’s that and there’s also the fact that Jiang Cheng has stopped walking that cuts him off mid-sentence. The other is staring into space. Lan Xichen hesitates but then places a hand on his shoulder. “Wanyin?”The touch breaks him out of his spell. Jiang Cheng’s eyes are slightly unfocused as he turns to Lan Xichen. The pulse in his jaw ticks, but it’s not from anger. It’s only now that Lan Xichen understands what it is that’s making him act like this. He’s nervous. More than that, he’s scared. But what reason would Jiang Cheng have for being scared? The answer comes immediately: the rumours about the Core-Stealing Hand. Those ridiculous claims that he was, of all things, stealing Lan Xichen’s core—
“Are you sure that’s not Hanguang-Jun? I’ve not heard anything about Sect Leader Lan leaving seclusion yet.”
“Who is that with him? That man over there, is that Wei Wuxian?!”
Lan Xichen feels the muscles under his hand bunching together. He almost wants to laugh just to clear the tension. With both of them this nervous, they could just run away, but then... when will they be able to face those people? Whether it is this town or the next, there will come a point where they will have to do what needs to be done. It’s not even as though either of them is guilty of anything, so why then are they so afraid?Before he can think of something to say, Jiang Cheng spins around without breaking Lan Xichen’s hold. The movement is so quick that he has no time to react. “You’re covered in snow,” he says, reaching up to brush the top of Lan Xichen’s head. When he seems to register what he’s doing, his face twitches in embarrassment. Despite this, he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. “Hold still. There’s still some left…”Lan Xichen holds absolutely still. Not even breathing. “Thank you,” he whispers. Jiang Cheng hums. His hair is also speckled with snow, but he moves away before he can mention it. Blinking snowflakes off his lashes, he can only follow the other in a daze. He’s blushing, Lan Xichen thinks wonderingly, even as his face also flushes with heat, and somehow all of their fears are forgotten just like this.It’s as they are approaching a tavern that a familiar voice calls out, “Hanguang-Jun, is that you? Wait, is that… Jiang-xiōng!?” The person who spoke is none other than Nie Huaisang. Still feeling strangely giddy, Lan Xichen has to fight back a giggle when the other man’s jaw drops at the sight of them. Firstly he gives Jiang Cheng a once-over, and then he turns to Lan Xichen and his eyes almost fall out of his head. “Huaisang,” he calls, lifting a hand in greeting. “May we join you, my friend?”“Oh Xichen-gē, you… you’re looking well! Yes, of course! Please do!” Nie Huaisang hurriedly gestures to the staff for some more hot tea. “Come, you two must be… hold on a minute, are you two travelling together?”Jiang Cheng, “What’s it to you?”“We’re working together on something, yes,” Lan Xichen says, smiling pleasantly. “But what might Huaisang be doing out here in the middle of nowhere, I wonder?”“I would say it was a coincidence if it weren’t for the fact he’s probably been waiting for us, or to be precise, waiting for me. Isn’t that right, Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng starts pouring them a round of tea. At Lan Xichen’s questioning glance, he rolls his eyes. “There was an ambush from the minor sects shortly before I arrived at the Cloud Recesses. As Chief Cultivator, Huaisang said he’d deal with it—”Thankfully, Lan Xichen doesn’t choke on his tea.Jiang Cheng turns to his friend, “Go on then, what happened?”“Oh, pssh! Nothing happened,” Nie Huaisang scoffs, snapping his fan open to waft away the steam. For a while, none of them speaks. The tea is strong and slightly bitter, and unfortunately, it burns Lan Xichen’s tongue. “Xichen-gē, it’s good to see you again.”The last time he saw Nie Huaisang in person was at his brother’s wedding. They did not know at the time that that might be their last meeting. Qinghe Nie sent many medicines to Gusu Lan over the months, opening up their family records to be given upon request.Lan Xichen smiles again, this time with far more sincerity. “It is indeed.” Nie Huaisang leans back in his chair, moss-green eyes sliding over to Jiang Cheng, who doesn’t seem to notice or care that he’s being watched. Chief Cultivator indeed, Lan Xichen muses. The man takes his time, his eyes lingering on Jiang Cheng’s hair. Slowly, his expression slackens with understanding. What is it that he’s seeing? Lan Xichen sets his cup down with a clink. Jiang Cheng glances at him before asking, “About the minor sects—”“I already said it’s been handled, Jiang-xiōng,” Nie Huaisang whines, “And it wasn’t easy, let me tell you! Do you know how much time I’ve spent negotiating with those cretins? It’s anyone’s guess whether they even understood anything. That would require actually having some brains.” Lan Xichen, “Ahem.”“Right, sorry… anyway, the matter is being dealt with,” Nie Huaisang concludes, though he is once again speaking mostly to Jiang Cheng’s hair. With this, he rises from the table, cutting Jiang Cheng off with a flap of his hand. “Will you just relax? Give me some face, won’t you? Wei-xiōng said that if I do a good job of this, I won’t have to be Chief Cultivator forever. I’m holding you to that agreement.”Jiang Cheng sputters. “What agreement? Wait, what did Wei Wuxian say?”“Before you ask, all charges will be dropped. They have no basis anymore since Sect Leader Lan is clearly in very good health.” Nie Huaisang flicks his fan shut. “Don’t worry about this anymore. Rest assured, this Chief Cultivator will handle the rest of it. Enjoy your travels, and please do come visit Qinghe Nie when you have the time.”Enjoy their travels? Why did he have to say it like that?They finish their tea in silence, both of them puzzling over their fellow sect leader’s odd behaviour. Jiang Cheng appears to be entirely consumed in thought, his grip tightening until his fingers are nearly white. Lan Xichen gently prises the teacup from his hand, careful not to touch him more than necessary. There are marks on his hands. Countless scars and calluses.Jiang Cheng drops a few coins on the table. “Let’s go.”Wading through the snowy landscape with only a vague idea of where the local temple might be, in a town as small as this one, it’s possible it might be located somewhere on the outskirts. It’s more likely they will find one somewhere up in the mountains, but since mountains are off-limits… they decide to search through the town for any alternatives. Even a shrine will do.Lan Xichen leads them through the deserted streets until they reach the marketplace. Walking past the stalls, he finds himself lagging behind. Somewhere, the smell of roasting chestnuts brings with it a wave of nostalgia so strong that Lan Xichen is forced to close his eyes. Once as a child, he managed to coax a senior disciple to buy him some tángchǎolìzi.[1] The sweet snack became an even sweeter memory. Wangji’s little face had been so serious with each chestnut he crushed in his tiny fists—“Xichen-gē?” Somehow he made it all the way to the very same stall without even opening his eyes. Lan Xichen blinks away the image of his brother’s face, turning to a rather puzzled Jiang Cheng. “Ah sorry, I… it’s nothing,” he mutters in embarrassment. “Really, it’s nothing.”At first, Jiang Cheng frowns at the little old woman stirring charcoal around the smoking pan. Then in perfect synchrony, she bravely uncurls her hand at the same time that he pulls out his coin-pouch. Lan Xichen’s stomach flips, heart fluttering as the purchase is made. “Oh, you didn’t have to—”“Who said it was for you?”“…”Jiang Cheng scoffs loudly, tossing him a chestnut. Lan Xichen reflexively catches it, smashing it to a pulp. Heat spreads across his nose, covering the entirety of his face. The woman lets out a bark of laughter, and then a chuckle bubbles out of Jiang Cheng’s throat. Lan Xichen can’t help but smile at the sound. “Oops.”“Did you really say ‘oops’? Alright, come here.” Jiang Cheng shakes out a handkerchief. Whilst Lan Xichen is wiping his hands, he busies himself with cracking open more chestnuts. Clicking his tongue, he says, “Honestly, you’re as bad as Jin Ling. Just what am I supposed to do with you?”Lan Xichen grins behind his sleeve.The moment is like sugar melting on his tongue, a mix of past and present filling him with warmth.As they munch on chestnuts, their footsteps slow down to more of a stroll, and Lan Xichen wonders whether this is how their brothers pass their days together. In between night-hunts, all of the knick-knacks they bring back home speak of times spent perusing markets. It would be fun to live a relatively carefree life like this, but ultimately… it wouldn’t be the type of life either of them would be suited for.Although leadership is a burden, Lan Xichen knows that neither he nor Jiang Cheng would ever be able to leave it behind. When they manage to find the temple, there is a sign written on the door. Closed for maintenance. Jiang Cheng immediately starts knocking, forcing the only available temple attendant to poke his head outside. The boy peers up at Jiang Cheng, “Yes?”Jiang Cheng gestures around, “What the fuck.”“The temple is closed,” the boy says in a small voice. He looks rather shaken. “The goddess statue is… I’m sorry but we cannot show it right now. There is a large crack in the stone. We don’t know who or what did it—”Jiang Cheng, “Can we not even pray at the altar?”The boy shrugs. “Maybe tomorrow? We need to clean up first.”Was it vandalised? Perhaps it’s the cold weather that did it? The roof is fully covered in snow, but the walls are not cracked or broken. The town is not known for suffering landslides, but then again… Lan Xichen hums. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Does the temple require reparations?” A donation might just help with winning the goddess’ favour. After giving a rather generous donation, they head back to the tavern. Jiang Cheng leaves him at the door and then returns wearing a slightly complicated expression. “I asked, but apparently there’s only one room left. The tavern is full of wayward travellers this time of year.”Was Jiang Cheng hoping to have separate rooms? Lan Xichen’s pleasant mood wilts. “That should be fine,” he says. “I don’t mind at all.”Time blurs somewhere between climbing the stairs and getting ready for bed. When Lan Xichen next comes back to awareness, it’s to find Jiang Cheng busy pulling his crown out and undoing his braids. “Fucking hell,” he growls. Lan Xichen flinches when he yanks hard enough at the tangled ribbon that his head jerks backwards. “It’s stuck.”“Not so rough,” he chides, making an aborted movement forwards. He’s said these words before, shortly after their first fight. Jiang Cheng freezes completely, eyes meeting Lan Xichen’s in the mirror as he approaches. Taking the comb from him, he says, “Be gentle.”“Being gentle won’t fix this,” Jiang Cheng says in response. Surprisingly, he makes no protest when Lan Xichen starts untangling the knots, combing them out one by one. “I don’t like leaving it down. My hair gets messy very easily. It’s too thick, and I… I hate it.”“Mm, well I like it.” “…”“Conditioning oil might help.” Lan Xichen remembers how his mother used to infuse oils with certain herbs, and now the sweet scent carries so much nostalgia with it. “Rosemary and lavender are good,” he says, “But I like sandalwood best. I’ll make you some.”“I thought the problem might be Zidian, but my mother never had any issue with it. Also, as a child it was always—wait, did you say you’ll make me some?” “Yes, I know how to make it. For now, we might be able to find you some at the market.”“Find me some? Wait, Xichen—”“Lan Huan.” “…”Jiang Cheng’s hair is definitely gaining volume the more he combs it. Lan Xichen tries his best to focus on gathering the strands together into a loose braid. When Jiang Cheng merely continues staring at him, he lets out a weary sigh. “If you want, you can call me Lan Huan. You’ve called me Huan-xiong before,” he tries to joke, with no success. “I’ve been calling you by your birth-name when it really wasn’t my place to make such assumptions.” The braid is too loose and falls apart immediately. Lan Xichen blinks a few times. “It’s up to you, of course. Call me however you want. I’m sorry, I just… I really want us to stay friends. If I upset you—”“If you didn't mean to make assumptions, why are you making assumptions now?” Jiang Cheng twists around to look at him. Slate blue eyes glow in the dim light. “Lan Huan, when was our friendship ever in question? Stop speaking nonsense.”Lan Xichen’s breath hitches, something easing in his chest. “My apologies, it seems I was mistaken,” he says, his smile widening when Jiang Cheng grunts. After a moment, he adds, “I seem to have done this wrong. If you want, I can try again?”Jiang Cheng flips the tattered braid over his shoulder. “Mm, try again tomorrow. Let’s go to bed.”Separate beds, of course. Lan Xichen pulls off his boots, scooting under the stiff blankets. The candles are blown out with just a thought, muting the room to shadows and soft breathing in the dark. Despite being in separate beds, the distance between them doesn’t feel so vast anymore. With the shadows veiling each other from sight, Lan Xichen can almost imagine that they are lying next to ea—“Lan Huan.”Only the curve of Jiang Cheng’s nose is visible, the filmy edge of fluttering eyelashes limned in moonlight. Lan Xichen licks his lips to speak, “Yes?”“I… I’m really glad you came back.”The hitch in Jiang Cheng’s voice brings tears to Lan Xichen’s eyes, but it is sweet warmth that uncurls in his chest. “So am I,” he murmurs softly, his voice thick with emotion, “Thank you, Jiang Cheng,” and then sleep comes with his next breath. It seems like he’s only just closed his eyes when he wakes again. Suddenly. Violently.Forced awake by vigorous shaking. By a panicked voice, and someone gripping his arms. Lan Xichen’s eyes fly open, gasping for air. At first, the shape hovering above him is a ghost, but then the terrifying shadow reveals itself to be Jiang Cheng. Pale-faced, and gnawing on his lip. “Lan Huan?” he whispers.Lan Xichen closes burning eyes and waits for the pain to ebb. His muscles are so tense that they scream in agony. He can never remember what the nightmares are exactly about. They come often and without any warning. The only trace of them left will be the choked feeling of loss, and his pillow soaked in tears. In all the excitement, he completely forgot that this dream would be able to find him whether he was at home, or— “I’m sorry,” he rasps, lifting shaking hands to his face. They’re shiny. Wet with…? (Blood? Whose blood? Xichen-gē, behind you!) “I’m sorry, I’m sorr—”“Stop apologising. Come here.” His hands are seized in a strong grip. Warm, dry palms. Rough with scars and calluses. “Your hands are freezing. Breathe with me.”“Please, just go back to sleep,” Lan Xichen begs, his voice whittled down to a hoarse rasp. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”Jiang Cheng pulls him to sit at the edge of the bed. Lan Xichen isn’t quite sure how he ends up with his forehead pressed to his husband’s chest, but the front of his shirt becomes damp very quickly. Those hands move to rest on the back of his head, one of them stroking over his hair. The rhythm matches the tune he’s humming ever so quietly. Lan Xichen slumps forwards into the embrace. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… The words tumble out of him, endless pleas for forgiveness. Jiang Cheng says nothing, holding him and rocking him side-to-side. Unsurprisingly, it’s their song he’s singing under his breath, comforting in a way that only music can be. The demons in his head cower at the sound. Slowly they recede, giving him space to breathe. “Your voice is so lovely, Wanyin.” Jiang Cheng stops singing. He looks shocked, “What?”Lan Xichen continues, “You never told me you could sing.”Jiang Cheng's mouth opens and closes a few times. “Why would you need to know that?”“I don’t need to know, but I want to know. There is so much I want to learn about you. For example, yesterday I asked you about your hair. You said ‘it’s tradition’, but then you left it at that. What is tradition? Can you tell me, or is that a clan secret?”There is a long stretch of silence before Jiang Cheng finally says:“They are my mother’s customs, from her clansmen.” So it's a Meishan Yu tradition then. No wonder he’s so hesitant to share it. Lan Xichen waits, fully prepared to be told nothing, but then a breath gusts over his cheek. “When someone gets married, they change how they wear their hair regardless of whether they are a man or woman. It’s to represent starting a new life together.”Lan Xichen thinks this over and... it’s then that he realises that it’s early morning. Buttery light washes over the side of Jiang Cheng’s face. Tilting his head to look up at him, “In that case, won’t I need to change my hairstyle as well?”The fingers on his shoulders tightened. “Pardon?”Instead of explaining himself, Lan Xichen sweeps his hair up into a ponytail. “Like this?”Jiang Cheng stares for a moment, and then he snorts loudly. “Are you kidding me? That style is meant for juniors. For children, Lan Hua—”“But your brother wears it like this.” When Jiang Cheng merely raises a brow to this, he hesitates before adding, “Jin Zixuan also wore it like this. I don't think your argument stands.”“…”Frowning, “Are you trying to say that I’m too old?”“No, that’s not it! I just… it doesn’t suit you, alright?” Jiang Cheng says this, but he keeps sneaking glances at him. Lan Xichen isn’t too sure whether he believes him. That isn’t the expression someone makes when they don’t like something. Jiang Cheng scowls. “Don’t you trust me?”“Of course I do.” Lan Xichen winds his hair together, holding it coiled atop his head. “What about a bun then—” “No,” he says immediately. “Absolutely not. Come here, let me try something.” Jiang Cheng pulls Lan Xichen over to sit at the table. After fetching the rest of Lan Xichen’s hair ornaments, he turns to him with a determined expression. This has Lan Xichen perking up, and as Jiang Cheng passes the comb through his hair, unlike his own experience, there are absolutely no tangles, no knots, nothing!“Is this what all Lans’ hair is like, or is it just you?” Jiang Cheng lets the hair fall through his fingers, thinking over what hairstyle might suit him. Braids could work, but will they hold in hair as fine as this, and should they be made to match his own? Without thinking, he muses, “Was your hair like this even before godhood, or is this another one of the perks?”Even though he wasn’t speaking just now, Lan Xichen falls even more silent.Jiang Cheng could have smacked himself. “Sorry,” he mutters, dividing the strands swiftly. What was he thinking, reminding Lan Xichen of his godhood of all things?! Despite his agitation, be gentle resounds in his head. He makes the braids looser. He takes his time. Halfway through braiding, he can’t help wondering whether twin braids on a person like Lan Xichen, with a gentle countenance like his, will make him look like—(A-Die! he called out, but the man only gave him a distracted smile. He was busy with work, he was busy training the disciples, he was busy with A-Niang. Always busy, never glad to see him. Just before his heart started aching, he heard a voice calling his name. Spinning around, his chest swelled with joy. At least jiejie would always be there—) His hands move without thinking, the memory guiding him through as he ponders the man who was gentle but lacked warmth. Who was indulgent, but never to him. Always distantly and quietly disappointed, and never… he was never there. It’s only after Jiang Cheng is sliding the pin into place that he dares to look at the mirror. Two braids curve from his temples either side, twining together and looping backwards.“Oh,” Lan Xichen gasps, turning his head one way and then the other. “I like it.”Jiang Cheng lets out a breath. “Yeah, it looks good.”It really does, and it looks nothing like his father. Lan Xichen’s hair is a few shades lighter, and the smile he gives Jiang Cheng fills him with sunlight. Running his fingers along the braids, the man’s eyes curve up into crescents. When he turns to him his expression softens. “Thank you, Wanyin.”Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “No problem.”It’s still early, but there’s no point hanging around. They leave the tavern and head back to the temple, only to find it—“Closed again? Really?” Jiang Cheng knocks on the door. Then he kicks it. They wait for ten minutes to no avail. In that time, Lan Xichen wonders if Jiang Cheng’s fiery temper is the reason why the snow keeps melting on him so quickly. “Well this is just fantastic!” he exclaims. “What are we supposed to do now? Stick joss sticks in the ground?!”“Maybe we could—” “That kid probably wasn’t even a temple attendant, and now they’ve probably run off with your money—”“Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet,” Lan Xichen says soothingly, ushering him away before he can break the door. “Surely there must be other places we can try. Maybe in the next town over?” In the next town over, Jiang Cheng gives him a look. The shrine is closed again. No sign was left. No explanation was given. Lan Xichen purses his lips. “Interesting.” They try another town. And then another... and then another. A couple of days pass like this, by which time even Lan Xichen is starting to run out of patience. Jiang Cheng has fallen quiet and both of them know that something else is at work here. Broken temples, abandoned shrines, some of them still in use, but all of them without a goddess statue. Everywhere they looked, Guanyin was nowhere to be found, and none of the people they asked could explain it either. This was clearly divine intervention. The gods playing tricks. Placing bets. Were they that desperate to win the Emperor’s favour? Where are the Eight Immortals who swore to help keep them from interfering? How helpful is it that they're probably back in Gusu, drunk on wine? It’s right as he’s thinking this that Jiang Cheng lets out an enraged yell, causing the people around them to turn and look. Lan Xichen also spins around, and lo and behold—Jiang Cheng’s mouth twists into a snarl. “You!”The Monkey King swaggers up towards them, unrecognisable except for his burning eyes and Ruyi Bang twirling between his hands. “Oh young masters, what a pleasant surprise!”Lan Xichen, “Surprise?”Jiang Cheng, “Pleasant?”“Ha!” Sun Wu Kong’s grin only grows wider in response. “I’m guessing you must have realised that by now, Guanyin is nowhere to be found. If you have any brains, you’ll also know the reason for this. Tiān Gōng’s supporters send their regards,” he says, dropping a handful of joss sticks onto the ground.Jiang Cheng sneers, “Does this not count as breaking the rules?”“We already established that rules mean nothing to Heaven unless they are written by themselves. What, did you think they were gonna make it easy for you? ‘Better safe than sorry’ goes both ways, you know. Anyway, not to worry, not to worry! I’m here to help!”Lan Xichen smiles tightly. “How wonderful. We’re so grateful for your help.”According to Sun Wu Kong, if the goddess statue is missing it means that it’s unlikely that any amount of incense or joss sticks, nor fruit at the altar, is going to work. Especially if the other gods have warned her against coming—“However, there is one place she will never shy away from,” Sun Wu Kong says, turning both of them around to walk the way they came. “The mother goddess is the patron of mariners, and so the sea is also her home. Not far from the mainland, there is a small island piled with rocks. Many years ago, stranded sailors and fishermen built a shrine for her there. Even after being left to the elements, that statue has remained undamaged by the salt spray. It’s said that a woman has been seen walking the shores.”“I suppose that’s where we must go then,” Lan Xichen says, whilst he and Jiang Cheng mount their swords. “To the coast?”Sun Wu Kong nods grimly. “Indeed, young masters. Our quest now takes us to the sea.”
There are many times in his life when he has wanted to be found. Mostly when he hadn’t the means to seek out his own salvation, he would wait for life to slip from his fingers and leave him broken on the floor. In many ways, Wei Ying knows he has been lucky in his life. To be found by Uncle Jiang on the streets, to be carried back home by shījie, to be chased after by Jiang Cheng whenever he was up to no good… and to be found by Lan Zhan, time and time again.This is not one of those times of waiting. Despite what he told Jiang Cheng about hoping to be found by Baoshan Sanren, Wei Ying never had any intention of waiting for her to do so. The research JingYi showed him included family trees and countless manuscripts, but more importantly, there were maps.The Lans have always been diligent in plotting the lands they owned and documenting which territories came and went as the ages passed. The Sect’s territories eventually became established behind borders, but beyond that, the land naturally changed over time. Rivers changed routes, and most landforms became completely unrecognisable, except for one solitary peak which remained unchanged throughout all the countless years. That is where they are currently headed. From his vantage point, the crest of that ridge looks more like an oversized hill than then craggy peaks of the Cloud Recesses. As they come closer, Wei Wuxian looks down upon the strangest sight. At a distance, the mountains appear to be split between two seasons. One side is blanketed in snow whilst the other is still stuck in a shimmering coat of autumn-red trees. The moment they land, Wei Ying immediately burrows under Lan Zhan’s cloak. “It’s fucking cold, Lan Zhan. Will our joss sticks even pierce the ground? Will we be able to light them?” he whines. “Fu-fu-fucking hell.” Lan Zhan hums, “Only cultivators will venture out this far.”He’s right. It’s unlikely they’ll find anyone wandering around even on the ‘autumn’ side of the mountain. It’s so bitterly cold that no one would come out here without a good enough core to protect them. Wei Ying whines, rubbing his face against his husband’s back. “Alright.” His teeth chatter, rattling in his skull. “J-J-Joss sticks?”Lan Zhan ends up wrapping his cloak around him before going to light the incense and pull out a few offerings. Wei Ying clings to the fire talisman he’s been given whilst hammering at the frozen ground, completely numb and hating life in general. Digging hopelessly with a joss stick reminds him of digging ant-holes in his youth, except this is a horrible chore.Just as Lan Zhan starts unwrapping his guqin, Wen Ning lets out a surprised grunt. “Over there,” he says, pointing at a small figure in the distance. At first, it looks like a child, but then they see it is a woman. Small and hunched over with age. Wen Ning goes to hide in the bushes, though his pale eyes linger on her. He seems reluctant to leave. Wei Ying can understand why. Just by the way she’s pacing around, muttering to herself and patting her face nervously, he can also see someone else in her mannerisms. A much-beloved ghost.Wei Ying approaches with a smile, “Auntie, are you alright? Do you need some help?”The woman looks up, lips quivering when she speaks. “Young master, have you seen them? I’ve been waiting for so long, but they haven’t come back. They’re just children, and the world is so dangerous these days. I’m so scared…”Though she may be old, there are traces of spiritual energy swirling inside of her. Standing outside in the cold for such a long time would have been impossible otherwise. Could she be a retired cultivator, or could she be the very person they’re searching for? Wei Ying places hands on his hips and clicks his tongue. “What type of horrible children would leave you outside waiting for so long? And in this weather too? Terrible!”Her eyes widen, “Oh, no they’re good children! Really, they’re so good, and I… I… where on earth could they have gon—” She cuts off, staring at Wei Ying like he’s grown a second head. “Oh, but you look just like her.”Wei Ying’s heart skips a beat. “Her?”“They would play together, two boys and a girl. They—they called me… they called me—”Two boys and a girl? Wei Ying remembers two boys and a girl. Clad in purple robes, each of them laughing with mud splattered on their faces. Two brothers and a sister? The sweetness of remembrance is overshadowed with longing. Wei Ying, “Sorry auntie, but have you heard of someone called Baoshan Sanren wandering these parts?”The reaction is immediate.The woman’s eyes flash white, her trembling stopping abruptly. When she looks at them, it’s with much clearer eyes. Reaching upwards, her hands stop inches from his face. “Cangse Sanren,” she says wonderingly. “You really look just like her.” If Wei Ying thought he was prepared for this, well… he was wrong. He has never known much about his parents, but whenever someone has told him ‘oh, you look like her’, or ‘the way he speaks? That’s just like his dad,’ it felt like he knew them better. In time he came to realise that just by living his life, the more he came to know himself, the more he came to know them too.In this case, it's quite strange to be told that he resembles his mother. In a different body to the one she gave him, how on earth has Baoshan Sanren recognised him as her son? Maybe she’s seeing something beyond his physical form, but even then—“You have her smile.”Wei Ying cannot tell if he is smiling or not right now. He is hardly aware of himself. So he still has his mother’s smile? It’s a complicated feeling. Here stands a legendary immortal, a celestial master, one of the greatest and most distinguished cultivators to walk the Earth… but all he can think about are the parents he hardly remembers. Baoshan Sanren seems to have seen more of him in a glance than years of knowing him would have told. With every thought she recovers of her former disciple, she seems to remember herself. “She wrote to me,” she says, “That she met a man and that they had a son together.”His mother wrote about him? Wei Ying really doesn’t know what he’s feeling. In his confusion, he ends up laughing, beckoning Wen Ning over with the music of his laughter, even as tears drip down his face. This is… this is not what they came here to talk about, but now it feels like he has been waiting for this moment all his life. “You are Wei Ying.” The snow doesn’t feel cold anymore with Baoshan Sanren cupping his cheeks. She is nothing at all like what he’d been expecting. “You are her son.”She knows his name? Wei Ying croaks out, “And you were her master.” Those starlit eyes go hard and cold. “Yes, I… I was.”There are hundreds of texts written about this cultivation master, each one making assumptions on her choices. Most of them have criticised her decision to forsake the rest of the world for one mountain. For many people, secluding herself like that was the only reason why her life was remarkable, but they never stopped to consider why she’d done it.Could losing her disciples be the reason she retreated from the world?
The world is so dangerous these days.
Could that be it?The moment he looks at Lan Zhan, he can tell his husband is thinking along the same lines, but about different people. People who he has lost, himself included. Seclusion due to grief? The dangers of loving and losing someone?
Grief cannot harm people? What do you know?
“We’ve come to ask for your help,” Wei Ying says. Focus on the task. They came here for a reason. “My shīdì is—”“You’ve come to ask about godhood.” The fact she already knows carves a hollow feeling inside him. She pulls her hands back, the warmth retreating. “What makes you think that I have the answers you seek? Immortality is but a stone’s throw compared to what distance stands between Heaven and Earth. Cultivation leads everyone to immortality one way or another, but godhood has completely different requirements.”Hearing this, Lan Zhan narrows his eyes, “What requirements?”Instead of answering, Baoshan Sanren starts plucking at her sleeves. “Immortality is but a milestone. Even with the same cultivation method, every path will be unique, with different trials and tribulations. What a joke. What good did it do An’er, if in the end he—”“An’er? An’er... are you talking about Lan An?” She doesn’t answer, which Wei Ying takes to mean yes. “Does that mean he attained immortality but in the end he…” He pauses. “Wait a minute, you knew him? How did you know him?”Baoshan Sanren isn’t paying attention to him, but rather staring at Lan Zhan. “He was my disciple. He was my—” she abruptly grabs Lan Zhan’s chin, and to his credit, he endures this without any complaint. Turning his face side to side, “My goodness. You really are the spitting image of him. Ah, except for your eyes.”“Wait, but if Lan An was your disciple,” Wei Ying grips his head. Reality is so much stranger than fiction! This cannot be! “Then that… that means he was my mother’s senior martial brother! Did they know each other? Was he—”“He was one of the first children I took under my wing,” Baoshan Sanren explains. “I brought him here. I taught him everything I knew. He was a good student, but he wanted more than to live on a mountain all his life. In the end, all of them did.”Realising that Lan An, who left his mark on the world centuries before Wei Ying was born, could have grown up alongside his mother was truly mind-blowing… but if immortality was indeed as unremarkable as Baoshan Sanren made it seem, and was something acquired simply from cultivation, did that mean Jiang Che—“The disciple before him left and never returned. All we heard was that his heart was blackened by some misdeed. Corrupted to the point that he was slain under thousands of swords.” Baoshan Sanren’s mouth twists. “Then An’er wanted to leave, so I told him that if he left he would not be allowed to return. He took the name Lan from qielan to honour us, and then he left, and… the blue seas turned to mulberry fields. Later, we learnt he told others he had come from a monastery.”Did anyone ever ask what monastery Lan An came from? Wei Ying feels like he’s drowning in all this new information. Somehow it changes everything and nothing. The fact that no one has ever questioned Lan An’s origins was exactly how his made-up story managed to survive all these years. In a way, he hadn’t been lying—Baoshan Sanren’s secluded mountain was as good as a monastery. Mulberry fields, though? Well indeed, his time on earth did bring many great changes into the world. Changes which affect them even to this day. To think that one simple wish managed to overturn Heaven and Earth. It’s as the saying goes: as the water recedes, the rocks appear.[2]“Then he didn’t come back,” Baoshan Sanren continues without pause, “Which was when I decided to enforce that rule to prevent the others from suffering similar fates. Once you leave, you cannot come back. No exceptions.”Only, there had been one exception: Xiao Xingchen, who came back for help, and then left the mountain again, to a miserable end. 'Suffering similar fates’ was too similar to be a mere coincidence though. Could it be that the disciples of Baoshan Sanren were afflicted by the same heaven-made curse? But why and how, and… was the curse not bound to the Lan family, or was there something else here at work?Lan An never returned to the mountain, but was it possible that the curse managed to affect his fellow disciples despite that?“I have left this mountain many times since,” she adds in that same detached tone. “I’ve wandered all over the world, but it is not a world I can recognise without them in it. Sometimes I want to leave and never come back, but then… somehow I always end up back here.”Lan Zhan, “You were waiting for them when we found you.” Baoshan Sanren thinks for a moment and then laughs. “Is that right? I didn’t even realise. What must I look like, tottering about on this... this godforsaken rock? Haha, how pathetic.”Lan Zhan, “It isn’t pathetic.”Wei Ying is still mulling over something.The bonds within most martial families are equal to those found between blood-bound relatives. He knows best of all that found family is no less than the one given at birth. Is it possible that the heaven-made curse crossed the boundaries of blood? To protect his martial family, Lan An cut ties with them forever, committing himself to a path which (unbeknownst to him) ultimately led to his demise. That sounded awfully familiar. Who cares about the crowded, broad road? I’ll walk the single-plank bridge into the dark! Walk until you can walk no longer. Then fall, with no one around to catch you. None of your friends, and certainly not your fami—“What even is a family really?” Baoshan Sanren asks suddenly, plucking the thoughts straight from his mind. “Is it only made up of those who we share blood with, or those with whom we have pledged ourselves to?”Out of nowhere, Wen Ning appears, nudging a speechless Wei Ying aside. “Can it not be both?”Baoshan Sanren turns to the fierce corpse, a tension they were not even aware of easing in her expression. How strange it must be for Wen Ning, to be the one to bring this celestial figure a measure of comfort. After hiding in the bushes, now he stands in the sunlight as pale as the snow itself. “What makes you think I have the answers you seek?” she asks again. “Godhood is as much a mystery to me as it is to anyone. I’m sorry but I cannot help you.”Wei Ying cannot accept this.Twice now he has climbed mountains to find Jiang Cheng either a cure or a solution. (Not this again. You’ve done this to me once before. That was once too many.) He absolutely cannot accept this as an answer! How can he face his brother otherwise? Empty-handed, with more broken promises? Jiang Cheng will probably be expecting this result which makes it all the more intolerable!With his best smile, Wei Ying asks: “Master, can you at least confirm that it’s possible for my shīdì to ascend without his original core? We were told—”“What is the point of telling you such things when you already believe in him so much? If I were to tell you ‘no’, would that answer really be able to change your mind so easily?” she demands. “You should know better than anyone what your brother is capable of doing.”Wei Ying bites his lips. “But about his core—”Baoshan Sanren, “The core that you gave him? What about it? A core is just a core.”Lan Zhan, “We have been told it might pose a problem.” She snorts. “In what way would it pose a problem? What other nonsense have you been told?”Before he can open his mouth to reply, it is as if something is teasing at his hair but the tips of their fingers are sifting through his mind. Cultivation is one thing. Accumulation of virtue is another. Beside him Lan Zhan grips his hand, his fingers twitching with every jolt of memory. Do you know what you call an action that blackens the heart? That type of offence is known as a demerit. [“But you have demerits too, and yet they say nothing of it! What nonsense! If redemption is beyond the reach of the damned and the wicked, what use is it then for anyone?”“It is said that even cursed bones wish to bring new life again.”[3]“Wei Ying is not wicked.”]All Wei Ying can feel is Baoshan Sanren rooting through his mind, and Lan Zhan’s thumb stroking over his knuckles. This is a question of your character, Young Master Wei, not your ability. You are almost guaranteed to ascend. It's only a matter of time— He gasps awake.“Well, there it is then! Those fools were right about one thing. It depends on a person’s character, but another thing,” Baoshan Sanren purses her lips, “What I do know about godhood is that it isn’t earned by favour or through paving your way through cultivation. From what I have seen, people aren’t ever chosen to become gods. They come about by mere chance.” “If you tell me this is to do with fate again, I will scream,” Wei Ying warns, lifting his hand. “I have had it up to here with fate.”She shrugs. “Scream then.”“…”Lan Zhan, “What have you seen?”This provokes the most interesting reaction from Baoshan Sanren they have seen yet. It’s as if the words smother the burning fire of her core. It shrinks and condenses, her face contorts, and… what the hell? Her features quiver faintly, a mist covering her eyes. Wei Ying can already tell what is happening. Looking up, her lips tremble when she speaks, “Young master, have you seen them? I’ve been waiting for so long, but they haven’t come back…”All three men exchange glances and then they turn to speak privately. The first thing Wei Ying says is, “She’s definitely Baoshan Sanren. We saw that she isn’t a ghost or a corpse. Her skin was warm. Was it the words you said just now, Lan Zhan? Could there be a spell?”“Does that mean someone doesn’t want her to remember things?” If Wen Ning were alive, he’d be chewing on his lip. “But… does that mean she hasn’t left the mountain?”Wei Ying, “She might have done. Maybe we broke her out of a loop for a moment. Maybe she’ll continue coming and going as she has said.”Lan Zhan, “They don’t want her revealing what she’s seen.”Even without saying it, the three of them know that ‘they’ refers to the gods. There must be something she knows that they don’t want being shared. Whether this has bound her to the mountain or her own grief is preventing her from leaving, the mystery behind Baoshan Sanren’s seclusion seems connected to the curse. What a mess! The answers they came for came with even more questions attached to them!Wei Ying jolts back to the present when someone calls his name. Turning to look, he almost can’t believe his eyes. Wen Ning and Lan Zhan are already walking away. But… but they don’t just abandon people. Especially not those who need their help! That’s the opposite of what they do! “Where are you going? We can’t just leave her like this!” he protests, running over. Perhaps the only way to help her is by dealing with the curse, but leaving her out on the mountain alone? “Lan Zhan, we can’t—” The tiny frown on Lan Zhan’s face stops him in his tracks. Already he knows what has happened, and sure enough— When he turns to look, Baoshan Sanren has already left.
With every mile they have crossed, the weather has grown warmer and wetter. It’s almost as if they are travelling backwards through time, back towards autumn with its muddy paths strewn with fallen leaves. Leaving the mountains behind them, following the river down towards the sea, Lan Xichen looks up at the swirling snow and tastes salt on the breeze.“Strange,” he murmurs, holding his hands up to catch the snowflakes. Jiang Cheng only grunts in response, his eyes fixed straight in front of him. Watching him marching ahead, Lan Xichen does his best to swallow his disappointment.They haven’t spoken much since leaving for the coast.Sometimes it feels like they’ve reverted to the way they were at the start of their journey, the only difference is that the tension between them has turned into more of a restlessness. Jiang Cheng has been less willing to talk, and thus it has mostly fallen to Lan Xichen to initiate conversation. With Jiang Cheng so withdrawn, it’s hard to know the right words to say. At least things are different in the privacy of shared quarters. When they are alone, when he’s combing through Jiang Cheng’s hair and taming his wild locks with sandalwood-scented oil and patience, the silence is easy in a way that precious few things are. Golden are the mornings that follow these nights. Even when the nightmares come, he wakes with tears in his eyes and a song in his heart. The peace of these moments never lasts into the day though. They are like the snowflakes melting on his palm. Watching the water slipping through his fingers, Lan Xichen has to wonder, has their relationship always been like this? Behind closed doors, safe from the bustle of the outside world, it grew somewhere in between the dark months of hopeless waiting. All of this has built them in a certain way, like a tree grown in the direction of a prevailing wind. But does that mean that this is the only way they can love one another? With the winds having changed direction, are they bound to the roots that grew them to this point? Lan Xichen finds himself staring at the darkening skies looming on the horizon, the thick stormclouds that stretch all the way from the land to the sea. This type of weather would cause anyone to stop in their tracks, but unlike others who might just marvel at the sight of it, the breeze whispers to him. It almost sounds like… a warning—“Lan Huan.”They’ve been walking for a while now. Flying by sword got them most of the way, but then he was going too fast and the distance was too great that even Jiang Cheng, with his high level of cultivation, couldn’t keep up the pace. Since they began walking, Jiang Cheng hasn’t said anything until now. It was unclear whether he is embarrassed or frustrated, but either way, Lan Xichen cannot understand it. Why should he be ashamed of his limits when he is capable of so much? If he were brave enough he would tell him this, but would he have the heart to listen? Jiang Cheng only glances at him, turning frequently to dodge passing pedestrians. He has said nothing but his name, and… what does it mean?Without meaning to, Lan Xichen blurts out, “I’m sorry.” “…”When there is no reply to this, he continues, “If I have done something to upset you, I’m sorry. Also, all of this is my fault. I have dragged you into this mess, and now you—”“Shut up.” Jiang Cheng’s sharp tone has Lan Xichen’s mouth snapping shut, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “From what I remember, I dragged myself into this mess. What I have decided is no one’s fault but my own. Stop blaming yourself. Stop apologising. Do you want dumplings or noodles?”The change in topic is too abrupt.Lan Xichen blinks. “Huh?”Jiang Cheng wordlessly goes to a street vendor, returning with both a scowl and a paper packet. After stomping over to the deck, he drops to sit on the ground. Then he pulls out a sweet potato and starts peeling it. Jiang Cheng frowns at him. “Why are you standing there? You look strange. Sit down already.” The moment Lan Xichen joins him, Jiang Cheng says: “The noodles and dumplings had meat filling, so... here, have this instead.” The half-peeled potato is thrust in his face, the scent of it making his mouth water. Lan Xichen is half-tempted to eat it straight from Jiang Cheng’s hand, but then that would probably backfire horribly. “It’s good,” he comments after taking a bite. “Thank you.”The fishing village they’ve come to sits right at the coast. Lan Xichen hasn’t been to the sea that often, but he can see the appeal of living in a place like this. In such a wide-open space as this, the landscape is dramatic from every angle. The noisy comings and goings of the people are very typical of life in Yunmeng, whereas Gusu just tends to sleep through the winter months—“Maybe we should have brought you here.”“What do you mean?”Lan Xichen can’t stop looking at him, the flutter of purple robes flashing bright against the clouds. Jiang Cheng’s hair now falls in thick, glossy waves, swirling with each tug of the salt-laden breeze. The ribbon is falling out. As part of him learning his traditions, Jiang Cheng has been making him practice braiding on his hair, hence why his braids are a bit loose and uneven. “We should have brought you here,” Jiang Cheng says quietly, peeling another potato and tossing the skin into the water. “I’ve heard that breathing in this type of ocean air is said to be restorative to a person’s health. Even though we know now that you weren’t really sick, at the time we… we really weren’t to know.” His voice trails off, and whilst he busies himself with wrapping up the food, Lan Xichen’s mind fills with the memory of an afternoon spent sitting on a cliffside. If I could, I would do more. Fuck whatever the others say. It wouldn’t matter. Even back then, he'd been so desperate to save him. Thinking about this, a lump rises to his throat. I’d be willing to try anything— “If I had to go somewhere for healing, I would ask to visit your lakes instead,” Lan Xichen says. He waits for Jiang Cheng to look at him before adding, “Actually, would I need to ask permission when I still have Lotus Pier’s first official token of passage?”“Th…That—!”Lan Xichen shakes his head, grinning widely when Jiang Cheng shoves at him. The force he uses to push him more like a gentle tap than anything. Still, he makes sure to rock sideways and even lets out a little puff of air. Jiang Cheng immediately moves to steady him, but then he gives him a withering look.“You’re so childish,” Jiang Cheng scolds. “I can’t believe you kept that stupid token.”“But why wouldn’t I keep it? That’s my special Lotus Pier token. The only one of its kind in existence, you said.”“Lan Huan, can I ask you something?” “Of course,” he replies, sobering quickly. “You can ask me anything.”When he turns, Jiang Cheng is looking at the water.Lan Xichen wipes his fingers on his sleeve and then pulls Jiang Cheng’s hand onto his lap. Back then, Jiang Cheng was the one who had held his hand just like this to help keep him warm. Lan Xichen can’t help sighing a little, because he knows that… one year from now, or maybe ten years, or even a hundred years from now, he will still owe Jiang Cheng for far more than just saving his life.“Why did you tell them that you had a... a partner?” Jiang Cheng asks, his hair hiding his face from view. “Out of everything you could have told them, why did it have to be that?”Lan Xichen has to take a deep breath, trying his best to remain calm. “Well,” he says, “When Lao Li said that I needed to think of one good reason to stay on Earth, all I could think about was…” Well, he thought about everything, really.
The poem, and the letters they wrote to each other, and the bell he was given, and the ribbon he gave in return, and the taste of persimmons, and walking in the rain, and a song drifting up to the stars, and—
Jiang Cheng stands abruptly. “Never mind. Just forget it.”Did he take too long to answer? Lan Xichen lurches forward, grabbing the back of his belt in desperation. “No! Wait, please!” Jiang Cheng goes as tense as a bowstring, but reluctantly resigns himself to waiting. This… this man. He could walk away every time and yet he never does. It’s staggering to think how easy it is to move him when he is known for being unbending. Lan Xichen has to close his eyes against the sting of tears, and then he takes just a moment not to think, but to feel.“All I could think about was the blessing, and then the myth it came from, and… thinking about both these things made me think about you.” Lan Xichen lets out a shaky breath, his chest aching as he struggles to control his breathing. Dropping down to a whisper, “I was scared, Wanyin. But then when I thought about the Qixi festival, and how much you hated that myth—”“I still hate it,” Jiang Cheng insists. “In fact, now that we know it’s true, I hate it even more.” Smiling helplessly, “And I thought about when I told you about Lan An, and how you said that you preferred his legend to the myth—”“How was I supposed to know they were both the same story?!” Lan Xichen bursts out laughing, clutching onto Jiang Cheng’s robes and breathing in the sweet scent of sandalwood and lotuses. Standing behind him, he thinks about how the end of each day brings him so much comfort. Falling into that effortless rhythm and letting dusk bring them back to that calm centre… why did he tell the gods that he was married to this man?Because without him, how could he come home? What home would he return to without Jiang Cheng?Without warning, Jiang Cheng leans backwards.The movement causes Lan Xichen’s hands to slide from his belt to wrap around his waist, and then he thinks oh, because now he’s holding him. It’s just the two of them, no one else around… well, there's a boy not far away, but he's busy sorting through some nets. Jiang Cheng crosses his arms as if daring him to say something, but Lan Xichen is truly lost for words.And then, suddenly he isn’t.“I wanted to see you,” he says, the words flowing out of him, “Because I knew if anyone would welcome me back, it would be the one who came to see me through every kind of weather. You have helped me so much that I had to come back to thank you, and also to apologise for leaving, and also to… to come back home.”Jiang Cheng’s breath catches. Home? “You don’t need to thank me.” (No thank you’s and no sorry's between them?) “You don’t need to apologise. I understand now.”Lan Xichen cannot follow what he means. “What?”Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “Let’s focus on the task at hand, alright?” When he nods, he continues, “The monkey said it was a small island covered in rocks, but… just look at this coast! All of these islands are covered in rocks. Do we have to check each one? How long would that take?”There are several islands dotted around the coast, but as Lan Xichen scans the horizon, his eye is drawn to one in particular. The largest of these floating monuments surges from the water, and from this distance, it is as large as a thumb. It must be quite far away. The second half of the question gives Lan Xichen some pause. They had to stop flying earlier because Jiang Cheng ran out of spiritual energy.First of all, how are they going to get there?He could always fly them across.“Isn’t it obvious? Take a boat.”Zidian starts glowing, but Jiang Cheng lowers it when he sees who it is. “How long have you been standing there? Listening to other people’s conversations, have you no shame?!”Sun Wu Kong shrugs, digging through the bag of forgotten sweet potatoes. “Let me tell you, young master, I didn't know what shame was until my third century of life. Even then, I had to learn what shame was first before I was able to truly succeed at being shameless.”Lan Xichen takes in Jiang Cheng’s gobsmacked expression and then the monkey who is busy stuffing his face full of food. To be fair, hiring a boat would be the simplest solution for this. Technically he isn’t wrong, but—“Are you telling me,” Jiang Cheng says slowly, “That you specifically went to learn what shame was just so that you could be shameless? Is it any wonder that I don’t like you?! My god!!”“Not a god, just a monkey.” Sun Wu Kong tosses the bag aside, clapping his hands together. “But yes, a boat. A boat is what you need. Do you know how the saying goes? It might take hundreds of rebirths for two people to ride in the same boat, but a thousand lifetimes to share the same—”[4]“Yes, alright! Shut up now!” Jiang Cheng quickly grabs him by the hand and starts pulling them away. As Lan Xichen is spun around and dragged along, he sees Sun Wu Kong calmly waving at them, yellow eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. “Honestly, the nerve of that m—”Sun Wu Kong calls out, “Young masters, don't forget to take care crossing the water!”Jiang Cheng sneers a little but then redirects his attention towards bartering for a boat.With just a handful of coins, they manage to borrow a small fishing boat from that boy. As they’re approaching the jetty, Lan Xichen gazes out towards the wine-dark sea and thinks over the Monkey King’s warning. Walking along the wooden deck, it feels like they’re skirting the edges of the world itself. These harsh winds almost feel unnatural. Such dark waters. There are no shallows here, or so it seems. Soon enough, they find themselves clinging to the edge of the boat for dear life because—the sea is rough! Almost violent, with how the waves keep tossing them about! Lan Xichen keeps a hand on his husband’s robes and is prepared to jump into the air at any moment. The thought occurs to him: he could have flown them across, so why are they doing this?Then he asks himself: but would Jiang Cheng have allowed himself to be carried?“Well,” he says, smiling when he gains the other’s attention, “Isn’t this nostalgic?”“Nostalgic? You mean…” But of course, he is referring to their boat-ride around the lotus lakes during the festival. Jiang Cheng frowns at him, but his mouth twitches. “Lan Huan, you are henceforth banned from saying that anything is nostalgic. Your grasp on ‘nostalgic’ is clearly flawed.”Lan Xichen nods solemnly. “As you wish.”For a while, they endure the harsh battering of the wind and sea. Occasionally Jiang Cheng stands up to try and direct the sail, but it's pointless with the wind howling like a feral beast. As Jiang Cheng becomes more and more agitated, Lan Xichen thinks that he should try to distract him.“Do you know what the difference is between a myth and a legend?”“Hmm…” The boat sways, rocking up and down like the powerful gallop of a horse. The shine off the water is painfully bright, forcing him to squint to see past the end of his nose. Jiang Cheng shrugs. “No. Don’t know don’t care. They’re all the same. Nothing more than fairytales, the lot of them.”A soft sigh. “That’s a rather dull way of looking at things.” He lets out a bark of laughter and is answered with a small chuckle.“Myths are pure fantasy,” Lan Xichen says finally, his voice lilting like a song. “Whereas legends have at least some basis in reality.”Jiang Cheng hums disinterestedly but manages not to roll his eyes by sheer chance. Salt spray clings to everything, drying in white streaks on their skin and rubbing their skin raw. It is obvious that they are not welcome here. The sky, wind, and sea are all against them remaining afloat.“I believe that we are attempting to do will blur the line between both.”What does that even mean?He scoffs. “It’s not like it was my idea.” His mind flicks briefly to the sharp grin of an annoying trickster who is probably somewhere far in the other direction, busy dealing with his own part of their quest. He shrugs again. “Still, it’s worth a try.”“We are challenging the gods by doing this,” Lan Xichen warns, twisting the rudder against a sudden jolting wave. Jiang Cheng watches the rudder snap off with a loud crack and they both stare at the broken piece for a moment. Then it is promptly tossed into the sea. As if in offence to this, the waves slam upwards and for a moment Jiang Cheng is sure they're about to join the rudder. He smacks his hand on the deck in time with their hard landing, slamming his fist down and glaring at the sea. “So be it then,” he grits out through his teeth.Lan Xichen rises smoothly, somehow unbending against the buffeting winds and violent lurching of the boat. He stands with his back to the sun, an arm outstretched towards him. “Are you sure?” he asks, the slightest tremor in his voice.Jiang Cheng has learnt the danger in second-guessing things too much these past months. He grabs the hand offered to him without hesitation. Quickly he is pulled up, up, up onto his feet and then off them. He is lifted up above the water, and as the boat falls beneath them, two lashing waves snap up like the jaws of a giant sea monster. It's gone in the blink of an eye.“Hold onto me.”He does.Then he laughs, ignoring the burst of fear that curls in his belly at the sight of those unnatural black waves rising to meet them, clawing at their feet and churning dark with sea-foam. “This is impossible,” Jiang Cheng says. “It can’t be real.” He laughs breathlessly, shaking his head before pressing it against the other’s neck. “It can’t be.”The arms around him tighten as they float up higher, up towards the clouds. A pair of warm lips brush against his ear. “Attempt the impossible, A-Cheng.”It’s difficult to say how long they keep trying to fly over to the island, but it ends up being just as much of a failure as the boat, which has long since sunk to the bottom of the sea. Whilst Lan Xichen wishes he could fly with Jiang Cheng in his arms forever, the words of warning flash through his mind. Take care crossing the water. There is also the nagging feeling that they should retreat. Something is not quite right here.When they return to shore, they’re both leaning on each other, laughing and gasping for breath. Part of the fun and excitement wears off eventually, leaving behind the raw feeling that comes with having escaped danger by a hair's breadth. The sense of foreboding causes Jiang Cheng to turn to him with wide eyes. “There was something there in the water. You saw it too, didn’t you?”Lan Xichen agrees, “I saw it.” They decide to head further inland, and with Sun Wu Kong nowhere to be found, Lan Xichen manages to coax Jiang Cheng into searching the market. It's likely the Monkey King will be looking for something to eat, if they're going by his usual habits. With the rush of adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Lan Xichen can’t resist plucking at Jiang Cheng’s sleeve every few steps to point out something. (“We’re here to find a monkey, Lan Huan! Focus!”) Despite his scolding, it’s obvious that Jiang Cheng is having fun too—And then something stops them right in the middle of the street.Lan Xichen crashes directly into Jiang Cheng’s back, propelling the man forwards. An expletive tumbles straight from his lips, “What the fuck!?”Sizhui is the first one to spot them and he quickly elbows the two beside him. The moment Jin Ling sees who it is, he drops his bag of sweets. Ouyang Zizhen’s face pales, and he frantically slaps Jingyi, who is too preoccupied with haggling for something to notice anything. Jiang Cheng clears his throat.“S-Sect Leader Jiang—”“What are you doing here? You were told to stay behind.” When Lan Xichen places a hand on Jiang Cheng's arm, he is quickly shaken off. Suddenly, in his eyes, the thing they saw in the water has changed from a challenge to a threat. He asks again, “What are you doing here?”“The Immortals brought us here,” Sizhui blurts out. “They told us something we thought might be important, so we—”“The Immortals? The Eight Immortals? They brought you? Does that mean that they’re here too?” Jiang Cheng clutches his head, growling under his breath. “Why the fuck did they bring you here? Eight Immortals, four juniors and a monkey! And what about my guards? Are you telling me they let you come out here like this?!”Ouyang Zizhen, “Well, they… they were busy looking after the little ones. Who got. Who sort of drank… alcohol. So... they don’t really know.”Jiang Cheng smacks his forehead.Lan Xichen, “… Alcohol?”Jingyi asks, “Were we supposed to just wait around at home until you came back then?”Jiang Cheng flings his arms out as if to say yes!? This time when Lan Xichen clasps his arm, he closes his eyes and breathes deeply a few times. A loud crash in the distance, a roar of laughter. Lan Xichen pats him in comfort, wincing at the noise that comes from what he can only assume are the drunken Immortals causing a ruckus somewhere. They were planning to meet with Wei Wuxian’s group at Lotus Pier after a week, but now that the juniors are here—“How did you find us?” Jiang Cheng asks at exactly the same moment that Lan Xichen was thinking this. The juniors look between themselves. Ouyang Zizhen starts coughing nervously, but then Jin Ling crosses his arms, “How did we find you? All we’ve been hearing is ‘Zewu-Jun’ this and ‘Zewu-Jun’ that. Of course we were able to find you! And when we heard you were heading to the… to the coast. But Jiujiu,” he frowns here, looking at Jiang Cheng with concern, “You always said—”“All of you should go back,” Jiang Cheng snaps, still massaging his head. “I cannot… I can’t deal with this! Get lost! Get lost, or so help me…”“Wanyin, breathe,” Lan Xichen says gently. With a couple of hand-signals, Sizhui herds his friends away. “Let’s keep looking for Dàshèng. He’s probably hanging around somewhere near the docks. We’ve searched the market already—”“I don’t want to deal with him either! Argh!” Jiang Cheng snarls but allows him to steer them back towards the water. “Why? Fucking why? I could handle this when it was just the two of us.”Lan Xichen hums, unable to deny that he is also rather annoyed by this untimely interruption. This has happened not just once but twice now.He’d been enjoying his time with Jiang Cheng too.Thankfully, the further they walk away from the busy streets, the easier it is to pick up where they left off. The fact that Jiang Cheng is willing to follow where he leads manages to ease something inside Lan Xichen, giving him the confidence to reach down and link their hands together. The freedom to indulge in any passing curiosities is so satisfying that Lan Xichen can't help wondering, when can they do this again? For them, it’s not an option to be brave whenever and wherever they please—yet here they are, on an adventure together, facing the unknown. As leaders, they haven’t the freedom to always follow their hearts—but is that not what they're doing?Following their hearts, letting them wander and take them to places they’ve never been before… as they explore the edge of the village, several bridges connect parts of the land together. It’s whilst they are walking across one particularly decorated bridge that a young woman calls out to them, and she’s selling freshly brewed tea and little cakes.Jiang Cheng scoffs, dragging him away before he can even see what kind they are. Somehow, he knows exactly what he’s thinking, and… oh, this is too good! “It's just tea,” he laughs, stumbling after his husband. “Did she look like Mèng Pó to you, Jiang Cheng? How old was she? Fifteen? Sixteen? Sizhui’s age at most—”“After what we’ve seen, it would be wise to remain cautious, don't you think?” He isn't wrong, but the way he clips his words and tosses his hair sends Lan Xichen into another fit of giggles. However, Jiang Cheng’s next question is sobering. “Lan Huan, do you think we ever drank the tea?”Before reincarnation, everyone drinks the Tea of Forgetfulness.Cleansing the soul, removing the burdens of their previous lives (do you think that loving someone is always such a burden?), they would have forgotten everything, leaving behind all of their possessions, their hopes and dreams gone with their last breath. But if there are some things the heart cannot forget, what else could they take with them, from one life to the next, than the hope that they might meet again someday?“If I drank the tea, I must have had so much,” Lan Xichen says, “To have forgotten… to not remember—”If they had met in previous lifetimes, was it their choices that kept them from walking the same path, or by each turn of the Wheel did they spend their days like the sun and the moon, never sharing the same sky?
That someday we might find our fated person and then be honoured together as paired souls, never to be separated.
Jiang Cheng presses his lips together, leading them onwards without another word. By the time they arrive at the docks, the place is completely deserted. Even that boy who loaned them the boat must have left for the day. “Where the hell is that damn monkey?” he mutters, scanning their surroundings with narrowed eyes. “I swear that if he keeps behaving like this, mark my words I’ll…”Then as he turns to face the setting sun, his words fall away as the light washes over both of them. The sun itself is hidden behind the clouds, but red light spills into the water, and the breeze has whipped the clouds into a reflection of the turbulent sea. Such a sublime sight would be enough to steal anyone's breath. A view of the ocean, the mountains and the sunset, yet…Lan Xichen found himself looking at Jiang Cheng.Something about his expression had him utterly captivated. Jiang Cheng closes his eyes to the sun, his brows creasing for just a moment. “Lan Huan, if we are really to be married,” he says, “One day will you come to bow at my family’s altar?”“Of course,” Lan Xichen replies. “Whenever you want us to go, I will go with you.” This answer comes without any deliberation, without anything but his most ardent feelings. Lan Xichen already has plans to give them a better wedding in the future, and it will be everything they should have been given and more. It would be good to host it at Lotus Pier, where they can bow at Jiang Cheng’s family altar and the children can run amok without inciting punishment.“We might not even have to wait that long,” he says. “When all of this is over, we can…” Before he can finish speaking, Jiang Cheng says, “Let’s not make promises ahead of time. Plan for tomorrow, but live for today.” With that, he turns to walk away. Something in that action demands that Lan Xichen give him space, and so he stands and watches him from afar. The sea itself should mean nothing to him, but for some reason it does. As the last dregs of sunlight settle on that lone figure, drenching him in crimson and gold, the sensation comes again of standing at the edge of the world. Lan Xichen shakes his head. Somehow it’s impossible to move his eyes away from Jiang Cheng, even as they burn against the dazzling light. There is the taste of fire caught in his lungs, and breathing deeply and slowly, he struggles to name what it is he is feeling. The lonesome cry of a seagull breaks him from the spell, but part of him is caught in that echoing sound.As it disappears into the clouds, that part of him remains trapped in his chest.
By dinnertime, they have no news from the others, but if what the juniors have said is true, it’s likely that Wei Wuxian’s party will know where to find them. Jiang Cheng has been quiet ever since they left the docks. He hasn’t even scolded the children for not going home. When Jin Ling announced that they had bought rooms for them for the night, it was left to Lan Xichen to remind them that, come the morning, the four of them will be leaving—Jingyi demands, “But why?”“Because I said so,” he replies, and when he smiles, Jingyi slumps in defeat.From behind his hand, Sizhui asks, “Uncle, is everything alright?”Lan Xichen can hardly say if anything, let alone everything, is alright, but one thing he knows is that Jiang Cheng is correct about one thing. The quest has become far too dangerous for them to be supervising juniors on top of everything else. “We are capable of handling this ourselves. You staying here is only likely to complicate matters—”Jin Ling slams his cup down. “You’re lying.”Lan Xichen's mouth snaps shut. “Pardon?” The boy (no, the sect leader) gives him a searching look.“The way you're behaving is not the same confident Zewu-Jun we all know, and jiujiu hasn’t spoken at all since we sat down. The way he was acting before was the type of angry that means that he’s worried. Whatever it is that has provoked this reaction, for it to have both of you this concerned means it’s unlikely to be something you can handle yourselves.” Jin Ling sips his tea. “Which means you’re lying.”“Watch your mouth,” Jiang Cheng says. It’s the first thing he's said all night. Jin Ling looks more relieved than upset by the scolding. “Lans do not lie. Speak with more respect.”Jin Ling smiles blandly. “My apologies.”Lan Xichen can only blink in surprise.“Well, well, such big words,” Sun Wu Kong chuckles, “He’s not wrong though.”“The direction you came from means… you were returning from the beach?” Ouyang Zizhen is not as bold as the others and quickly lowers his gaze when Jiang Cheng glances over at him. “That means what you saw must have been—”
“Was it a dragon?!”
Lan Xichen’s mouth twitches, “A dragon? Jingyi—”“But that’s what we came to tell you about!” he insists, leaning so far over the table that the front of his robes become smeared in sauce. “From our research and from what the Immortals told us, there was a ‘sea-lord’ who battled Lan An’s daughter, Lan Yu! A sea-lord, Zewu-Jun! Lu Dongbin himself confirmed that it was a dragon!”Sizhui sighs, pulling him back by his collar. “He did not confirm it, A-Yi.”“This dragon,” Jingyi continues, “Was the one who took Zhinü back to Heaven! Li Tie Guai was saying, it was to the sea—this sea!—that she was taken, and afterwards Lan Yu chased the dragon for the rest of her life, seeking revenge for—”Lan Xichen, “Breathe.”“—for what was taken from her. This could be the same dragon, depending on what you saw.” JingYi’s face is flushed pink, eyes twinkling with excitement. Sizhui sighs again, dabbing at his friend’s robes with a handkerchief. Jingyi smiles, “So? What did you see?” What did they see? Lan Xichen bites his lip. Even now, he’s not certain what they saw, but there’s no denying the fact that it had been something. All this talk of dragons though… he wants to say that it’s not that, but what if it is?“Dragons, hmph!” Sun Wu Kong wipes his lips on his sleeve. “Well-meaning but tricky bastards.”Jingyi throws him a glare, “Hey!”“Hey? What ‘hey?’ They might be good, but they're stubborn creatures! Mostly because once they have committed to something, guess what? They don’t give up on it! On the one hand, that means that they’re quite predictable. On the other hand, it also means that whilst they’re intelligent, they also tend to act instinctively, almost without thinking—”“Don’t most of the Monkey King’s stories involve acting without thinking?” Jingyi muses aloud.Whilst Sizhui shushes him, Ouyang Zizhen seems to forget his place, carried away by the discussion. “Wasn’t your staff stolen from a Dragon King?”Sun Wu Kong, “Stolen? Absolutely not. I won that staff fair and square in a fight. Listen here—” Jin Ling, “You don't think that that thing out there is the same Dragon King, do you?”Sun Wu Kong, “Of course not.”Jin Ling, “How can you be so sure?”Sun Wu Kong, “Because then he’d probably have tried to fight me. Were you not listeni—” “There’s one thing I don't understand,” Sizhui says. “Weren't Zewu-Jun and Senior Jiang searching for a Guanyin Temple? In which case, what brought them here?”Lan Xichen waits, but when Jiang Cheng only continues to stir his congee, he summarises the past week as concisely as possible. Saying it aloud, he is aware of how it sounds, and even before Jingyi opens his mouth, he knows what he’s going to say. Naturally, that doesn’t stop the boy from speaking, “But then, this has got to be a trap—” “Of course it’s a trap, it’s obviously a trap.” Jiang Cheng shoves his bowl aside. “Sometimes there’s no option but to throw oneself into the net[5]. You do it anyway because the job needs to be done, and who else will do it for you but yourself? That's just how life is.”Jin Ling leans back in his chair, “Jiujiu…”“Shut up.” Jiang Cheng slaps the Monkey King’s hand away from his food. “Hóuwáng, is it possible that that creature is guarding the island under Heaven’s orders?”Sun Wu Kong shrugs. “Heaven’s influence is powerful, and most dragons tend to be loyal to the Emperor. With all of the gods so invested in all of this, I wouldn’t be surprised if such an order has been made. Not much can get past a dragon, making them the ideal candidates for such a task.”There’s a moment where everyone digests this information. If the Jade Emperor has gone this far, it really goes to show how important winning this wager must be to him. Going so far as to lead them here, bait them with this trap, and then have arranged it so that waiting for them here is—Jingyi, “Does that mean there is a dragon then?”The whole table rattles from the force of Jiang Cheng shoving his chair back. Wait... is he leaving?! He moves so quickly, leaving them behind without even a backwards glance. What on earth? The other patrons appear just as shocked when the man storms out of the tavern. Lan Xichen hurries to his feet, hardly concerned with anything around him but his husband rapidly walking away. “Please excuse us. We’re retiring for tonight.”Ignoring any protests, he chases after the other with his heart hammering in his throat. The ends of Jiang Cheng’s ribbon flicker out of sight, his hurried footsteps taking him around each corner before Lan Xichen can catch up with him. In a small village like this, the tavern is kept separate from the private quarters, and so they pass several bridges and walkways to reach their room. Once inside, Jiang Cheng kicks off his boots.A puddle is forming beneath him. For a few minutes, Lan Xichen stares at his bare feet. It’s not that he hasn’t seen them before, but he doesn’t know where else to look. Without even the moon to light their way and the rain beating loudly on the roof, the room is shrouded in darkness and gloom.“The storm must have moved inland,” he hears himself say. After that short walk, he is also drenched from head to toe, but that is the least of his worries right now. “Let me find you a towel—”“Never to be separated.”Lan Xichen pauses mid-step. “What?” “Aren't you so lucky?” It’s clearly a taunt, but his meaning remains unclear. Even if Jiang Cheng is speaking to him, so much of his anger is usually self-loathing. Watching him peel off his outer layers one by one, Lan Xichen feels something sink to the pit of his stomach. Was it all the talk about a dragon that caused this or was it the blessing? Jiang Cheng’s voice is cold, dripping with disdain. “Never to be separated from me.” Lan Xichen drops the towel, stepping forwards, “Wanyin—”“Which means you get to see me like this.” Spreading his arms out, he has never looked so broken. “Lan Xichen, you have had the privilege of seeing me all throughout this journey. What do you think? Am I pleasant to be with? It doesn’t take much to set me off, which you must have realised by now. That's just what I’m like, I guess. Does that bother you? Does it disappoint you that I left the table just now?”Lan Xichen says honestly, “Not at all.”Jiang Cheng stands as still as a statue, staring blankly into the middle-distance. “And if I told you that I was scared right now—”“Why would that disappoint me?” Lan Xichen takes another three steps, and it’s by doing this that he realises he's glowing. The light reflects off Jiang Cheng’s face. You’re like a star that has fallen to Earth. Swallowing past the unease this brings, he says, “I’ve already told you I was scared before. Why would I think less of you when you didn’t mock me back then?”“That was different.”“How was it different?”“You were alone facing Heaven. Of course you were afraid. They said they were going to lock you up. Who wouldn’t be afraid?” Jiang Cheng's next words are so quiet, it’s almost as if he is speaking with himself. “Even now I can't help thinking, how can I possibly defend us from a dragon? Isn’t that ridiculous? You’re so much more powerful than me but I can’t stop thinking, what can I do to protect you? What can I possibly do?” Does he even hear himself? Lan Xichen wonders, his heart pounding in his chest. Right then, a flash of lightning comes. Something has been brewing between them for a while now. Underneath all the calm, it’s been building like the storm that has just arrived. He doesn't count the seconds, but then thunder rumbles in the distance. It's coming closer.“If we should fail and you must go to Heaven, a… a godly position can’t be that bad, right?” Jiang Cheng has to be weeping now. The shadows hide him from view, but he can hear it in his voice. The rain couldn’t count his tears. “You would make a wonderful god, and Heaven will be able to give you whatever you want. They will worship you as rightly they should, and… and you’ll be alright there, won’t you?”Lan Xichen shakes his head, unable to answer.“Lan Huan, I need to hear it. Tell me you'll be alright.” The room flashes white again, revealing blue eyes lined in red. Jiang Cheng looks so young. Horribly lost, and frightened. “No matter what happens, I need you to promise me.”How can he ask him this? Plan for tomorrow, live for today, but what about an endless number of tomorrows? Can he truly be happy knowing what he's lost? Eternal life, with nothing that can wash away these memories. They will be all that he has left. “Wanyin,” he says. Even his name is comforting to his ears. “Heaven cannot give me what I want, but yo—”By the next lightning strike, Jiang Cheng is already on the other side of the room. Facing away with his shoulders hunched, it’s clear that he is done with the conversation. “I’m going to sleep.”Lan Xichen strides forwards, “I wasn’t done talking.” “Well, I’m done listening. I'm tired. Goodnig—”“Jiang Cheng, we need to talk.”“Fuck off,” he snarls. Lan Xichen startles, but he’s staring at his hands. At some point, he must have grabbed him and now he can’t let go. Jiang Cheng struggles for a moment, but then a cold laugh bubbles from his throat. “Lan Huan, why are you holding onto me so tightly? Is it not enough that I've said everything? Do you really hate me this much? Spare some mercy, Zewu-Jun—”“Said everything? You’ve barely spoken these past few days.” Lan Xichen turns Jiang Cheng until they are facing each other. “Why are you saying this? Hate you? Why would I hate you?”Jiang Cheng laughs brokenly, “Why wouldn’t you?”“We need to talk. We need to fix this. Please,” he begs, moving one hand to wipe Jiang Cheng’s tears. If their misunderstanding is powerful enough to cause Jiang Cheng to be like this, resolving it is the only option for them to move forward. “I don't understand. How could you ever think that I could hate you?” Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. For a moment he holds himself perfectly still, but then he leans into his touch with a sigh. “When you say such things, sometimes I even dare to dream that… you might someday learn to love me.” Lan Xichen freezes. Sometimes he what? “I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng whispers, lips trembling in a smile. “You don’t have to say anything.”“But I do love you.”How can he not know that? But then, does that mean all this time… Lan Xichen’s mind is in pieces. The past few days are suddenly unbearable to remember. Were things not as he thought? Were they not happy together?“But that song you sing for me... it came from you. I wrote it for you,” he insists. It's not Jiang Cheng’s fault if he was not clear in that regard. Music is the language best known to Gusu Lan, but surely some of it was understood? “I thought you knew—”“What was I supposed to know?!” Jiang Cheng yanks himself away because this cannot be real. He can’t believe it. The song was for him? (Lan Xichen inhaled sharply, eyes falling shut. That was you. Yours.) Could that be what he meant? But that was... months ago. That was before he even sent the letter and the poem. That’s impossible. “Explain this then! The letter I sent you, th… the poem I wrote.” Jiang Cheng licks his lips, desperately trying to hold onto his anger. “Why didn’t you reply to me? Why didn’t you say anything? I have been waiting. All this time, I’ve been…” Closing his eyes again, this part is what hurt the most, “You acted as if nothing had changed. Like what I had written meant nothing to you.” Lan Xichen gasps, “But it did. It meant everything.”“Is that right? But in all of your letters, you didn't make any mention about what I had told you. What else was I supposed to do but take that as your answer?”Swaying backwards as if he's been struck, Lan Xichen shakes his head, “No, no, that wasn’t… I thought you knew. I thought we both knew how we felt, and that we understood that it was all we were ever going to have. Time was running out. What was the point of starting anything between us? I couldn’t do that to you.”“You—”“What sort of answer could I give you back then? I thought I was dying, Jiang Cheng. We both did.” He can still remember the moment he realised that things were getting worse. When he came to accept theirs would be love without fulfilment, he knew that making the most of the time they had left was more important than mourning the what-ifs. “It was bad enough that you had to watch me suffer. What else did I have to offer you by that point? A few weeks together? A month? It wasn't enough.”“I would have taken it.”Lan Xichen’s heart nearly stops. Even the storm seems to hold its breath. “What?”“I would have taken it,” Jiang Cheng repeats, swallowing thickly. “Lan Huan, I don’t think you realise how little I was expecting from you. A note to say ‘thanks, but no thanks’. Literally any indication that you had acknowledged my feelings. But what did I get? Nothing. You didn’t even tell me to get lost, so what was I meant to think from your silence? That you were so disgusted that you couldn’t even—”“No,” Lan Xichen breathes. “Never that.”“And then… then you left, and you came back saying you’d found your fated partner. And I still had your ribbon, which you gave to me on your deathbed. Is it that surprising that I thought it was given out of desperation, and that it was a mistake?”“I may have been weak at the time, but I wasn't feeble-minded.” Lan Xichen reaches up to untie his ribbon. His hands are shaking. A mistake? “Trust me, it would have taken less effort to die with my ribbon on my forehead than to have given it away. I gave it to you because it is yours.”Slowly, Jiang Cheng extends his arm, accepting it once again. “But do you see? Then we got married. Can you imagine how difficult that was for me? What did I know? I can’t see into your mind, Lan Huan.” Jiang Cheng ends up wrapping the ribbon himself, but leaves him to tie it. “I told myself I could bear it. I knew you would be considerate. You have always been so kind to me. The least I could do was keep my feelings to myself, since I thought they were unwelcome.” Here, Jiang Cheng cannot look at him, “I really tried my best.”Lan Xichen’s voice cracks in the middle, “But I… how could I have hurt you so badly? How did this happen? I don’t...” Jiang Cheng guides them over to sit on the bed.It’s exactly like the nights where he wakes to find those arms holding him steady and that voice lulling him back to sleep. This time there is no song and it’s completely silent apart from his gasping breaths. When Jiang Cheng's hands move to the back of his head, he muffles a sob against his chest, gritting his teeth in misery.By this point, Lan Xichen can hardly breathe. Does it even matter what he’d intended? How was he so blind throughout all of this? Perhaps it happened because his heart, which has always been open, forgot that not all others were the same. It's no surprise that Jiang Cheng, who always carried his burdens alone, refused to speak a word of his suffering. “I’m a fool,” he chokes out. “I thought I understood how you felt, but I only saw what I wanted to see, and… just like before, it has cost me everything.”Sighing, Jiang Cheng lifts their joined hands to his chest. “Not everything, Lan Huan.” Eyes fluttering shut, pressing his lips to his knuckles. “Not this time.” Once again, everything was ruined by his ignorance, and it steals his breath away. Twisting every tender moment between them into a mockery of what he'd thought it had been. Was he really the type of person who would play with another's heart, even unknowingly? But then that begs the question, why did Jiang Cheng let himself be hurt? Why did he go so far for him? If you doubt your worthiness, there is no measurement for such a thing. The simple answer is that… That’s why, isn't it? That's the reason why Jiang Cheng did all of this, and why he doesn’t blame him, and why he accepted marriage. How can I possibly defend us from a dragon? What can I do to protect you? What can I possibly do? It was all for the same reason that he gave to the gods.“How did this become so complicated,” he wonders to himself, “When the simplest thing is that I love yo—”Before he can finish, the whole room shakes. Lan Xichen jumps so suddenly that his forehead smacks into Jiang Cheng’s chin. There is a pause where neither of them moves, but then Jiang Cheng lets out a snigger. Laughter bursts out without warning. Thunder mutes out the sound of their relief, and the storm thrashes outdoors, and… they've been here. They’ve done this before, and that alone brings comfort.Jiang Cheng doesn't need to hear the rest of it. With Lan Xichen cradled against him, he finds his courage to speak. “I think you overestimate how well I understand you. When a person is as kind and generous as you, it’s not easy to know when you really want something. One day I will be able to read you at a glance, but we’re not there yet.”“Yet,” he murmurs.“In time we will get there. Be patient,” Jiang Cheng says, tugging at his ear. “For now, talking and writing has served us well in the past, and I… I like it when we talk. That’s how we became friends, or have you forgotten all of the time that we have spent together?” Through the thin cloth of his shirt, he can feel Lan Xichen smile. “Do you know how many people are willing to listen to me talk? There aren't many, you know. Actually... I think it might just be you.” Lan Xichen squeezes his eyes shut until he sees stars.Jin Ling's young voice rings in his head. People don't take the time to listen to you. They're too scared that you're about to gut them if they don't say or do the right thing. But in this case, Jiang Cheng was the one afraid to speak, and all he wanted was to know that he’d been heard. Acknowledgement of his confession would have been enough, and he deserved much more than that. “How are you not angry with me?” he whispers. “How can you not hate me?”Jiang Cheng hums. “I’m not really sure myself. I was angry, but not with you. It’s possible that I’d forgive you just about anything.”In the pause between lightning and thunder, Jiang Cheng shudders at Lan Xichen’s fingers digging into his waist. The truth is that there have been times where he was close to breaking. Every time Lan Xichen touched him, he didn’t know how to feel. What kept him going was the promise he’d made, to help Lan Xichen no matter what it cost him. Having lost him once already… actually, that was another thing—“You left us, Lan Huan.” That voice doesn’t sound like him, but his throat aches from speaking. “It happened so fast, and you left.” He was gone for no longer than a week, but they didn’t know that, and so... it became unbearable, the endless waiting. Whilst Jiang Cheng had been preparing himself months before that fateful night, nothing could have prepared him for when it happened. Then a week was both too long and too short a time to process that loss. Lan Xichen must realise that since his arms tighten around his waist hard enough to pull him onto his lap.“I won’t leave you again, I promise.” When Lan Xichen tilts his head to look up at him, Jiang Cheng can almost believe him. What’s hard to believe is that he’s invulnerable when he’s trembling in his arms like this. “Can I kiss you?” Jiang Cheng blinks, and then smiles. With the way they are sitting, the only way to kiss will be if he moves first. And so he does.Bending forwards, he closes his eyes as their lips touch.Once was enough to give him the right idea, and Lan Xichen seems content to follow him with every turn. His mouth is soft and warm, his lips opening under his with a gasp. Jiang Cheng peeks a few times, curious to see him so close. Long, dark lashes fanned against his rosy cheeks. This is the kind of beauty that is never tiring to look at, but to him, what matters more is that he’s real. Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall shut again.With that image burned in his mind, he soon becomes lost to the press of their lips against each other. Where did this come from? He never thought that he'd love someone or ever desire them like this. It blurs in his mind, how quietly this hunger sat inside him. It is all forgotten under Lan Xichen’s eager hands, their bodies rocking together until it becomes clear what they both want.Pushing down on his shoulders, Jiang Cheng bears down until Lan Xichen falls onto his back. It’s only now that he realises that the juniors booked them one bed. Jiang Cheng still cannot quite believe he gets to do this, but... there Lan Xichen is, welcoming him with a smile and melting under his touch. As he starts peeling away Lan Xichen’s clothes, by the second layer he lets out a huff.“What the hell?” Lan Xichen laughs and moves to help him. Compared to the simpler attire of Yunmeng Jiang, his ensemble is much more elaborate. It takes even longer to undress, with Jiang Cheng dipping down to brush kisses to his jaw, his neck, and throat. The more skin that is revealed, the faster he moves. Soon he is sliding off the last of his robes, and Lan Xichen holds his breath and waits.Jiang Cheng sits back, his mouth suddenly dry. Underneath all those layers, counter to his outward scholarly appearance, Lan Xichen’s body is a testament to all his years of training and fighting. Broad shoulders sculpted with solid muscle, with that strength a contrast to pale, and almost delicate-looking skin. The first thing Jiang Cheng reaches for is his hair, because it is most familiar to him. Then he touches the red marks dotted along his collarbones. The same colour has spread from his cheeks down to his chest.Lan Xichen’s gaze is lowered, hands twitching at his sides.“What’s wrong?” Jiang Cheng asks, pulling his hands away.“Nothing.” Lan Xichen shakes his head, smiling. “I'm just looking at you.”At first, Jiang Cheng is speechless. “…where exactly are you looking?!”That’s when Lan Xichen reaches for him, taking his single inner robe and peeling it off him in one movement. There's no time to stop him. It’s perhaps the only benefit of keeping his hair loose that it covers the ugliest part of him. In the end, his scars… they're just scars, and he knows that. But even the healer couldn't bear to look at them. And it’s more the knowledge of what caused them that makes them so hideous. And—Lan Xichen’s hand comes to rest there. He is frowning, but looks more thoughtful than disgusted. It’s this that allows Jiang Cheng to breathe, taking in a much-needed breath. His hands are quite large, able to hide most of the scar from view. Jiang Cheng twitches horribly when Lan Xichen strokes along the whip-mark, tracing the ragged edge where the skin remains split open. “You’re right,” Lan Xichen says softly, forcing Jiang Cheng to look up. “I am lucky. You survived, after going through so much, and I’m proud of you. I’m grateful, and I... I really am so lucky.”Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “Shall we move on?”Lan Xichen bites his lip, eyes trailing along at the scar again. “I can remove it if you want. I know that it’s within my power.” The same way he knows how to fly, he can smooth away this pain with a single touch. There will be no trace left of the past. Jiang Cheng has gone completely still again. “What are you thinking?” After a moment, he shrugs, “Do what you want.”What he wants? But this is Jiang Cheng's body. Lan Xichen hums, “I want what you want.”They could go around for hours like this. Instead, Jiang Cheng grabs his hands, moves them to his hips, and says, “Then I want you to—” Thunder crashes again. At the same time, Jiang Cheng grinds down against him. Lan Xichen tugs him closer with one hand in his hair, moving to drag his mouth across flushed skin. Lifting Jiang Cheng upwards until his pulse flutters against his lips, he reaches down to palm against his cock. The sound he lets out causes Lan Xichen to adjust his grip. Jiang Cheng arches into the pressure, gasping when Lan Xichen starts to stroke firmly at a pace that has his hips jerking. Of course, he’s touched himself before, but like this, it’s completely different. Faster and lighter than he usually would himself, and yet it works him up far too quickly. He cannot pull away though. Not with Lan Xichen holding him so tightly.“Slow down,” he pants out, but Lan Xichen’s hands won’t budge. “Huan-gē... hey!” The man below him is also breathing heavily, chest heaving hard enough to move Jiang Cheng along with it. Usually, his eyes are dark, but now they are a shimmering gold. For a moment, Jiang Cheng cannot bear to look at him. He’s a god. How can this work between them? Then he remembers that despite everything, Lan Xichen has not changed where it matters.And this is their time to be together. This moment is all there is.At this point, it’s an unspoken agreement that neither of them questions the other’s knowledge. With the sort of people they know, even without experience, it makes sense that they are somewhat aware of how all of this works. That’s why when Jiang Cheng asks, “Do we have oil?” just like that, Lan Xichen goes to dig through his robes. Jiang Cheng follows him to rain kisses over his back, biting at the meat of his shoulders, nipping at the tender skin below his ears. There is something swirling inside him. Through the dizzying fog of arousal, his core thrums with pleasure. Draping himself over his husband, Jiang Cheng slides a hand down Lan Xichen’s stomach and laughs when the muscles jump under his touch.And there it is, the dragon’s core. It’s like touching an open flame. Jiang Cheng lingers there to feel it pulse against his fingers, bright and unlike anything he’s ever known. As wild as the storm outside, but also as warm and yielding as the flesh that houses it. Lan Xichen radiates heat like a miniature sun. Jiang Cheng pats his dantian fondly, and then moves down to grab his— “You are not helping,” Lan Xichen informs him, moving them back in position so suddenly that it knocks the air out of Jiang Cheng’s lungs. The bottle of oil is pressed into his hand. “Here.” Jiang Cheng nods, and then looks downwards, head tilting to the side. “Hmm.” That definitely wasn't the response Lan Xichen had been expecting. “Is there a problem?”“Of course you couldn’t be average,” Jiang Cheng says instead of answering, pouring oil over his fingers. “Of course Zewu-Jun has to be exceptional in every area.” What he means is that Lan Xichen is perfectly in proportion, but as a larger than average man, that therefore means that his cock is also— “We are going to use this whole bottle, understand?”Lan Xichen cannot think of anything intelligible to say to this. Watching Jiang Cheng reach behind himself, it’s impossible to look away when his throat bobs. Sweat drips from his forehead, his darker skin has bloomed red in places. Jiang Cheng frowns after a moment, grunting with effort. Lan Xichen places his hands on his thighs to steady him. “Have you done this before?”Jiang Cheng admits, “This is more difficult than I thought it would be.”“Do you want me to—”“No, I can do it,” he says quickly, flinching a little. He can bend well enough to reach between his legs, but the angle is awkward and he knows he’s going too quickly. He hasn’t done this part before, and it does feel a bit strange. Still, he is determined. “Just give me a minute…” “Let me help.” Lan Xichen doesn’t give him time to protest, flipping their positions so that Jiang Cheng is the one on his back. Being manhandled like this sparks something inside him. (Anger? Surprisingly not.) His blood burns, eyes prickling with heat. Then Lan Xichen is the one pressing inside him, his long fingers carving in deep as he gently works him open. Has he done this before?Jiang Cheng’s legs spread apart wider, trembling and kicking out with each flicker of pain and pleasure.“Are you alright? We can stop if you want.” That's when Jiang Cheng realises he's got him in a chokehold. He nods, then shakes his head, then pulls Lan Xichen down to rest his head against his shoulder. Now that he's more aware of himself, the rumbling moans climbing up his throat are embarrassingly loud. Lan Xichen’s breath is hot against his throat, “Does it feel good?”Jiang Cheng cannot speak. Cannot even think. With Lan Xichen’s free hand running over his body, his fiery gaze burning a similar path, there’s not a single inch of him that isn’t feeling something. Again, things are moving along quickly, but not quickly enough. “Enough,” he chokes out, grabbing Lan Xichen by the wrist. “Enough!”Lan Xichen wonders if it really is enough, but he cannot say no to Jiang Cheng like this. Listening to his moans sets his blood on fire. Everything about him is always so intense, yet he feels utterly calm trailing kisses up his thighs and lifting them to wrap around his hips. It’s a bit late to ask, but he needs to be certain. “Are you sure?” The question doesn’t register at first. Jiang Cheng blinks up at him blearily, “Am I sure? What do you mean, am I sure? What have we been doing for the last however many minutes? You must know, this is hardly the worst thing I’ve been stabbed with—”“St-Stabbed with—!” “Stop laughing,” Jiang Cheng says, kicking at him (even though he’s laughing too). “Lan Huan! Will you please take this seriously? My god—”Lan Xichen chuckles into his mouth and then pushes forwards.The storm cannot mask the way his body trembles with the effort of staying still. Jiang Cheng digs his heels into the small of his back, bringing him closer into his body. That little motion spurs him into moving, thrusting at a pace that echoes the battering rain. Lan Xichen’s world has narrowed to the slick, tight heat around him, and the man below him clawing at his back. “Harder,” Jiang Cheng growls, angling his hips upwards and pushing back to meet him. Gasping and groaning with the overwhelming intensity of each thrust, he can only hope that he’s not being too loud. The storm feels trapped under his skin, raging in the marrow of his bones. He can hardly stand it, but even then he begs for more. When one thrust strikes him a particular way, he clenches instinctively and yelps. The thing is, he forgot to remove one little thing. In fact, both of them forgot. With a surge of energy, sparks shoot from his hand. Lan Xichen jolts with a hiss, hips stuttering as his rhythm is broken by Zidian’s lightning scorching through his veins. Jiang Cheng is about to apologise, but then he’s struck again in the same spot again.“You—” It’s like a chain reaction. Each burst of white-hot pleasure is followed by another thrust that rattles his bones. Another thrust and a crack of lightning, again and again. Jiang Cheng’s control is breaking. Maybe all of him is breaking. The only thing he knows is he cannot last like this. “H…Huan-gē...”“A-Cheng, they can’t hear you over this storm.” He might be lying. Maybe the whole world can hear them. Lan Xichen finds he doesn’t care. “Don’t hold back.” Jiang Cheng immediately clamps his mouth shut. “Hey, don’t do that.” With his thumb, he frees Jiang Cheng’s bloody lip. “Let me hear you.”As if a dam has burst, Jiang Cheng lets loose his voice. Scraping at the ceiling, splitting open the sky. The storm has arrived, and it shakes the walls with every cry drawn from his throat.Lan Xichen wouldn’t have thought the sting of an electric shock could bring such pleasure, but now he aims for that spot with single-minded focus. Jiang Cheng’s spiritual energy keeps crackling from his core. Looking down and seeing him like this, he wants to give him everything. To belong to him entirely. What power can keep them apart when they are like this?What distance could come between them, when Heaven and Earth are right here?“Beautiful,” Lan Xichen breathes. Everything about Jiang Cheng is beautiful, but more than that, he looks divine.Perhaps it’s how they are connected right then that allows Lan Xichen to sense him about to fall apart, and a moment later he does. Trembling violently, gasping and jerking as Lan Xichen holds him through it. Jiang Cheng sobs, waves of spiritual energy rippling back and forth between them. The warm weight of Lan Xichen keeps him grounded, but then he opens his eyes and sees something hovering at the edge of his vision.The lightning casts a shadow that almost looks like—There is no time to guess what it looks like.When he came before, energy surged from his core, but when Lan Xichen comes, his core practically explodes through the force of his own rapture. There is a ringing in his ears, his body convulsing as every single one of his meridians is flooded at once. Vaguely, Jiang Cheng is aware that he’s screaming. Above him, Lan Xichen throws his head back and flickers briefly into a different shape. Dragon, Jiang Cheng thinks, watching his husband sink back down to Earth. Harsh breaths, hot against his cheek. He can only cling onto Lan Xichen’s sweaty body, trying to remember… trying to remember how to breathe or think. Jiang Cheng feels completely boneless. Aching and sore, and also oddly detached from his body. Seeing that they’re still joined together, he slaps Lan Xichen awake, prompting him to roll over with a sigh. “A-Cheng,” he mumbles, apparently completely unaware of what just happened, “I was right. Your voice is lovely.”“Not anymore it isn’t,” Jiang Cheng croaks, still shaking from the aftershocks, and from the shock itself. Lan Xichen is a dragon. They knew that already, but his husband is a dragon. “Lan Huan... what was that?”“Mm?” Lan Xichen pulls him to lie against his chest. “If you don’t remember, I’d be happy to show you again.”“Lan Huan.” “We’re cultivation partners,” he slurs, hugging him tightly, patting his arm. “Dual cultivation. Between you and me. We’ll make you into an immortal in no time.”Jiang Cheng raises a brow at him but then shakes his head with a snort. How can he sleep like this? Not that being wrapped in his arms is uncomfortable, but with all this energy coursing through his body he has never felt so alive. He waits, counting Lan Xichen’s breaths, his eyelashes, and his heartbeat… but then, sleep doesn’t come. “You’ve given me too much energy,” he chides, brushing Lan Xichen’s hair off his still-smiling face. “Huan-gē, I need to get up for a minute.”Lan Xichen’s brows knit together. “Huh?”“Just for a minute,” Jiang Cheng assures him. “Can you let go of me? Hey, Lan Huan?” When Lan Xichen refuses to move, he pinches his ear. “I won’t ask again.”By no small feat, he manages to leave the bed and wipe them both clean, and then… he still needs to move. All the while, Lan Xichen watches him as he pulls on his trousers and outer robe, his frown deepening when Jiang Cheng sits down with a wince. “Where are you going?” Lacing their fingers together, he asks, “Are you alright? Want me to come with you?” Jiang Cheng can’t resist kissing him, but even that sparks something. “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back soon,” he says, cupping his face between his hands. “Wait for me. I just need a moment.”Lan Xichen frowns for a moment, but then he lets him go.Part of him wonders how strange it must look for a man to go out in the dead of night in midwinter, wearing just one layer of clothing which doesn’t include shoes. The truth is that he doesn’t feel the cold. Actually, he feels hot. Is that normal, or is this what happens when you cultivate with a god? Jiang Cheng walks all the way to the water, limping slightly, laughing at himself.The storm has died down, and there’s no one around but him and the moon.There’s nothing he really wants to do, but the room felt too small for him. Even though he wanted to stay, he also needed to leave for a minute. To clear his head, and just to breathe. Once he’s done, he will return and then he will go back to his husband—It dawns on him right then, exactly how much things have changed.Now he’s a married man. A man in love. He’s also an orphan, an uncle to several orphans, a younger brother, and a brother-in-law. He is a sect leader, the feared Sandu Shengshou, and sometimes he is Senior Jiang. Standing alone outside in the darkness with nothing but the clothes on his back, it occurs to him that everything that he has right now is more than he’s ever had.Jiang Cheng wonders if he can fly.It might be possible. After all, he has already touched the sky. Everything he has right now is so much. Joy swells in his chest before settling in his gut like a stone. The last time he was this fortunate, he ended up losing more than he started out with. That’s the problem with loving so deeply. The possibility, the mere chance of losing this, is too much to bear.He must really be insane, he thinks, when he plucks a pebble from the ground and hurls it at the water. It’s impossible to see whether it skips along the surface or plummets. Jiang Cheng feels ridiculous, but who is watching him anyway? “Listen here,” he says, speaking to the darkness. Each word rings out into the night. “If you try to take him from me, I will strike you down. I will tear you apart. I will hunt you down. Do you hear me? You cannot have him.”It’s completely ridiculous, but he feels satisfied. Content, and far less agitated. Jiang Cheng stands there, and then he wonders... what the hell is he doing?! Throwing stones and calling out like that! Indeed, how very brave of him! If anyone saw him right then, they would think he’d lost his mind—flushing with shame, he quickly runs back to their room to escape whatever the hell that was. Lan Xichen is still awake when he slips back indoors. He immediately lifts his arm, reaching for him. Jiang Cheng moves forward, taking the offered hand and sliding between the sheets, into a warm embrace. It’s difficult to tell where one of them ends and the other begins, and as Lan Xichen listens to his heart beating beside him, he closes his eyes so that they both may rest.Moonlight shines through the window, peeking through each break between the clouds.And outside, something moves in the water.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“The fiercest anger of all, the most incurable, Is that which rages in the place of dearest love.”
— Euripides
In his dream, the clouds swirled underfoot and he was standing by a pond.The water was like a mirror, reflecting all the dazzling colours of the early morning. Then it all changed in the blink of an eye.The shimmering veil peeled back to reveal the inky darkness of nighttime in midwinter and a lone figure sitting on a cliffside. Lan Xichen knew who that person was, and his breath caught in his throat. Barefoot and hugging his knees, Jiang Cheng turned his face upwards. Their song spilt from his lips in puffs of smoke. His pained expression was partly obscured, like clouds drifting across the moon, but nothing could mask his longing. Watching tears spill down Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, the urge to leave immediately grew tenfold. I need to go home. I can’t stay here. The separation was unbearable. He could dive into the waters. He could throw himself out of the heavens. Before he could make any type of decision, dawn broke over the clouds and sunlight dripped into the pond, and the ripples swept Jiang Cheng away in an instant. Lan Xichen. Hearing that voice caused his eyes to sting. This is your time, my dearest chancellor of the morning sun, and it’s about time you went home too. The dream shatters apart.Opening his eyes, the first thing Lan Xichen sees is his husband. They’re facing each other, with his hand resting on Jiang Cheng’s waist and the front of his robes caught in the other man's grip. Even after waking feeling rather unsettled, his heart flutters at the sight of Jiang Cheng’s sleeping face. He’s frowning even in his sleep, bruised kiss-bitten lips pursed in a pout. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but Jiang Cheng’s skin is glowing, and his cheeks are flushed pink, and… he has freckles? Since when? Utterly delighted by this, Lan Xichen brushes back a few strands of hair until he can see a small faint scattering of them dusting the bridge of his nose. After admiring this for a few minutes, he goes back to Jiang Cheng’s frown, and seeing this reminds him of the dream. Remembering that, he suddenly finds himself wanting to see him smile. In fact, he wants to make him laugh, because— (I just like making you laugh, he confessed. Jiang Cheng’s teeth shone brighter than the fallen snow. By shaming your disciples?) “By any means,” he whispers, and right then Lan Xichen knows that he really will do anything for this man. Although he should be frightened by that thought, what he fears more than anything is not doing enough for him… but enough about his fears. Isn’t it incredible that here they are after everything, lying side by side on the same bed? They’re even sharing the same pillow— Oh, actually they aren’t. The pillows are nowhere to be seen. Lan Xichen’s sleeve is serving as one for Jiang Cheng, partly-wedged under his neck. It’s seeing this that gives him an idea that he would later come to regret.Lan Xichen carefully sits upright, pausing every time Jiang Cheng’s forehead creases or he mumbles under his breath. It’s really then that he should have noticed that his giddiness and the slight heaviness of his limbs meant that something was not quite right. But alas, that was not to be, and so he excitedly summons Shuoyue from its scabbard and raises it above their heads.The angle is a bit awkward, but he shuffles around a bit and—In hindsight, he realises it must have been the light reflecting off the blade that woke him.Jiang Cheng’s face scrunches up when it passes over his eyelids. Then his eyes fly open and he lets out a yell, flailing backwards until he tumbles right off the bed. Whatever fog there was clouding his mind lifts instantly, and suddenly Lan Xichen is wide awake. “Wanyin!”There is a cough, some sputtered curses and a loud groan. Lan Xichen scrambles over to the edge of the mattress. His head spins a little, the room swimming around. He finds Jiang Cheng sprawled on the ground, glaring up at him with bleary eyes. “La… Lan Huan, what the fuck? What were you doing? Have you lost your mind?!”Lan Xichen bites his lip. “It was meant to be a joke.”“A joke,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. “Please explain how hovering over someone with a sword pointed at them whilst they are sleeping is supposed to be funny.”In all fairness, Jiang Cheng is quite right. Lan Xichen knows he’s lucky Jiang Cheng didn’t lash out with Zidian. Startling any cultivator awake is always a bad idea. His explanation sounds so silly now that he can hardly bear to say it. “You were lying on my sleeve. I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought—” "Who cares if I was lying on your sleeve? What were you going to do? Cut it… cut it off.” The moment he understands what the joke is about, Lan Xichen feels his face go red. What was he thinking? Maybe he really has lost his mind. “You were going to cut it off, weren’t you?" [1] Jiang Cheng asks slowly. “And then what? Were you really going to walk around with only one sleeve?”Lan Xichen sighs. “I wasn’t thinking. I just thought… well no, I didn’t think…”Jiang Cheng bursts out laughing. Falling backwards, clutching his stomach and rolling around on the floor. Lan Xichen can only sit there as the man in front of him completely and utterly loses it. Well, this is a little embarrassing, but it’s sort of what he wanted, wasn’t it? Listening to Jiang Cheng snort makes it impossible not to smile. Even if he’s made a fool of himself, he finds he doesn’t mind at all.When Jiang Cheng extends his hand, Lan Xichen takes it without hesitation and is immediately dragged off the bed. They crash together, knocking heads and giggling helplessly as they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The sun has betrayed him, Lan Xichen thinks. His own idiotic thinking (or lack, thereof) has betrayed him, but by some miracle, things haven’t ended badly. “Cut-sleeves,” Jiang Cheng wheezes. “Y-You were going to… what shitty sense of humour is that? Cut-sleeves! That’s terrible! Why are you like this?” This is their first morning together waking up in the same bed. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Jiang Cheng wipes his eyes, “Life is never going to be boring with you, is it?”Whilst he is well-known for being pleasant company to others, it’s not often that someone has said that he’s fun to be with. Lan Xichen leans back on his hands with a lopsided smile. “Would you believe me if I said that I’m drunk? I feel drunk.”"Drunk on what?" Jiang Cheng scoffs. “You’re not drunk. I’ve seen you drunk.” Reaching up to touch his face, he strokes a thumb over his flushed cheeks, and Lan Xichen tilts his face into the caress. Then something catches Jiang Cheng's eye. Squinting a little, he turns Lan Xichen’s face to the side. “Huh.” “What is it?” Lan Xichen asks, grinning when Jiang Cheng is overtaken by another wave of laughter.“I thought it was impossible to mess your hair up, but pfft… now look at it.”Jiang Cheng runs his fingers halfway through his hair and then Lan Xichen gasps when his head is jerked sideways. Before he can even begin to process the feeling, another snigger pulls his attention back to him.“Dual cultivation. Between you and me, I guess now we know what’ll do it.” Smirking down at him, “Did last night manage to rattle your brains too?”Lan Xichen wishes he could reply ‘no, of course not’, but shūfu didn’t raise him to be a liar. Instead, he flips his hair over to see for himself, and indeed, it has a few knots in it. Just as he’s about to pick one of them apart, Jiang Cheng sucks in a sharp breath. Lan Xichen’s heart nearly flies out of his chest when Jiang Cheng tears his collar open, eyes wide and frantic as he tugs his clothes right off of him.“You're bleeding,” he blurts out, much to Lan Xichen’s surprise. Bleeding? he thinks, quickly swiping a finger under his nose. Jiang Cheng also looks confused. There is red smeared over his shoulder and collarbone, staining the white fabric of his inner robes too. “Turn around,” he says, but then grabs Lan Xichen and turns him around himself. “Holy shit. What the fuck.” Did he get mauled by a fucking tiger? All over his back, there are claw marks crisscrossing everywhere and still oozing blood. There are also purplish bruises all over his shoulders and throat. Jiang Cheng can’t believe what he’s seeing—“Mauled by a tiger? Is it really that bad?” Lan Xichen cranes his neck backwards. “You weren’t that vicious, were you?”“…”“Don’t feel bad about it, Wanyin. I don’t mind. It doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, even if it did, I—”“You talk too much.” Jiang Cheng knows he’s blushing madly, but what else can he do? The evidence is right there for anyone to see, and when he checks his fingers, there’s blood crusted under his nails. (Harder, he’d growled, gritting his teeth when his request was granted, the force of each thrust powerful enough that he had no choice but to—) “I don’t remember doing this.”The corners of Lan Xichen's mouth twitch. “You don’t? Are you sure?”What is he trying to imply here? Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to reply, but then Lan Xichen reaches down to hold his waist, and just like that, he can’t speak at all. Those hands linger there for a moment before sliding down towards his hips. Something about the slow, deliberate drag of that touch has Jiang Cheng squirming and heat curling in his stomach. Watching him with burning eyes, Lan Xichen opens Jiang Cheng’s robes with a flick of his wrist. “Oh, it appears I got you as well.”Jiang Cheng looks down and… there are bruises scattered everywhere, all over his thighs and his hips and his waist. There are even some places where he’s been bitten. He definitely doesn't remember that. Amazingly enough, it's possible to trace the path Lan Xichen made last night, following the route he took across his body. It’s hard to say who got it worse, but if there’s pain then he can’t feel it, and even if it did hurt, he wouldn’t regret anything. It’s with that sobering thought that he turns his attention back to his husband, “You’re the one bleeding. Come here. We need to treat your wounds.” Instead of listening to him, Lan Xichen places his hands back on his hips, gently touching his bruises and bending to kiss each one, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. It’s impossible to resist running his hands everywhere, lovingly stroking each and every inch of skin and fitting his fingers to the marks he left behind. Jiang Cheng endures this without daring to breathe, but when Lan Xichen’s grip tightens— “Stop that,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Your wounds need treating. Stop messing around!” “I’m not messing around. I’m making some observations.” Squeezing the flesh around his thighs causes Jiang Cheng to bite back a groan. The muscles there are a testament to a lifetime spent swimming the lakes of Yunmeng. It doesn’t take much to remember how those legs felt wrapped around his waist. How tightly they held him. “There’s so much strength here. Enough to move mountains. Enough to…” “Enough to what?” Jiang Cheng demands, embarrassed beyond belief. After realising what he’s said, he quickly slaps a hand over Lan Xichen’s mouth. “Don’t answer that!” Lan Xichen’s throat bobs. Suddenly there are so many thoughts inside his head. So many possibilities. With this type of strength, you could crush a man! In a muffled voice, “Wanyin, do you think we could try—”“No! Stop talking! Just turn around and sit still.” Somehow, Jiang Cheng manages to convince Lan Xichen to face the other way. After wiping the blood away with his sleeve, his fingers flutter over the span of his shoulders. Unlike the man in front of him, he only feels ashamed when he sees what damage he’s done. “How can you say these don’t hurt? What if they leave scars?”Lan Xichen shrugs, “What if they do?”That would be the most terrible thing. He would regret it forever. Remembering how Lan Xichen offered to remove his scars last night, Jiang Cheng squints at the back of his head. “Can’t you just heal them yourself?”“I probably could.”“…”“Sorry, did you mean to say that I should heal them?” Somehow his demeanour remains warm and playful, even as his voice rises in mock-challenge, “And what if I don’t want to?”Jiang Cheng purses his lips. “If this is you trying to comfort me—”“No, you misunderstand,” Lan Xichen says gently, as kind as ever. “Not all scars are bad memories, or at least they don’t have to be. With this body, I would happily bear these marks for the rest of my life. What I want is to remember you with every part of me.”“Lan Huan... you can’t just say things like that!” Jiang Cheng freezes. He had been about to go fetch his pack of medicines and bandages, but then for the first time this morning, he sees the state of the room. Then, for the third time this morning, Jiang Cheng finds himself exclaiming, “What the fuck?!”It’s as if the storm has blown through the room and basically torn everything apart. Their bedding is ruined, the pillows and sheets ripped to shreds. Most items have been broken in places, but some pieces of furniture have been quite literally smashed to pieces. Most concerning of all are the deep grooves scraping the walls and ceiling. All of a sudden, Jiang Cheng can remember seeing something moving in the air last night.But that was just a shadow, wasn’t it? A trick of the light? In which case, what could have created those marks— Oh, why is he even denying what it was he saw?Is there any point in pretending it wasn’t a dragon? Seeing how shocked Lan Xichen is, he quickly guides him away from the wreckage. Of course, he’s probably unable to see anything other than the glaring evidence of his godhood. If this is just a fraction of his true power, it’s understandable why he would be distressed. Jiang Cheng squeezes his hand as they walk, ever mindful of where they place their feet.“Never mind,” he mutters, brushing aside his own panic. “It isn't that bad. These things can be easily replaced.” When Lan Xichen only continues to look around the room with glassy eyes, he grabs his chin and brings their foreheads together. “Listen to me, this wasn’t your fault.” “I… I didn’t mean to—”“Of course you didn’t. It was an accident. These things happen. Now, come on. We should be getting ready.”Perhaps it would be quicker to get dressed by themselves, but Jiang Cheng goes to pick up Lan Xichen’s robes instead, wordlessly peeling apart the layers and shaking out the creases for him. Thinking about the agenda for today, he can hardly believe what lies ahead. Ever since they found themselves within a living myth, all sorts of strange things have begun springing to life everywhere he looks.It seems never-ending how the world keeps opening itself out to the future, like the way the mouth of a river meets the sea. With so many unknowns, one can’t help but wonder about what's to come, and what his part to play in all of this is—“What’s this?” he asks, plucking something out from between the two innermost layers. It’s a wad of papers smudged in ink. Wait a minute, isn’t that…? Lan Xichen takes the papers away before he can read anything and presses a kiss to his trembling fingers. Jiang Cheng is almost too overwhelmed to speak. “W… What's that?”“This is the poem that you wrote for me,” Lan Xichen says, slowly flicking through the wrinkled pages, “Which I have been unable to part from, and therefore have been carrying with me ever since.”What does ‘ever since’ mean? Ever since he sent him the letter? He’s been carrying it with him ever since then? Jiang Cheng takes a minute to process this. “You’ve had it with you all this time? But why?” “When the gods asked for a reason as to why I must stay here, this here was my reason,” he explains. “The words you wrote which gave me the courage, and the bell you left which gave me hope. How can a person live without either of these things? With that, they had to accept that my fate was also tied to earth.” Lan Xichen turns to him, his smile soft with tenderness. “And that with everything, my reason is you.”Jiang Cheng has no idea how he’s supposed to respond to something like this. His mind is swinging all sorts of ways, and what is his heart even doing right now? Trying to puncture his lung? Lan Xichen merely stands with the letter in his hand, waiting with infinite patience. How does this man manage to interpret every seemingly poor and irrational decision he has made as being something meaningful?Thinking about the letter, a lump lodges itself in Jiang Cheng’s throat.He can remember reading it for the first time with mounting horror for what it meant, and how he kept it hidden for weeks. He can remember scrambling around on his knees, desperately sifting through a hundred other letters and the dust of Lan Xichen’s remains to find it. His bell is somewhere else in the room, and thinking of it also brings back painful memories of bidding his most difficult farewell.The irony isn’t lost on him that these were things given to Lan Xichen without any courage nor any hope at all. How bitterly he poured his love into ink and left his heart to wither away in a dying man’s grasp. With Lan Xichen gazing at him so lovingly, he is hit with another spark of shame. “You showed it to the gods? Why would you show that to them?”Lan Xichen’s smile slips. “Have I caused some offence?”“You showed the gods my drunken letter, Lan Huan. A letter I wrote when I was really, really drunk.” Jiang Cheng lets out a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Without turning to look, he tugs Lan Xichen over and hides his burning face into his shoulder. “I’m not angry. It’s just that you showed them something that I wasn’t even going to show you, and it was written so badly—”“Mm, it wasn’t though. I think it’s good. I like it a lot.” When Jiang Cheng continues muttering darkly against his back, Lan Xichen leans back with a chuckle. “Ah, I’m relieved you’re not upset. If it really bothers you that much though, know that I didn’t show all of heaven the poem.”“Oh thank fuck.”“But I did show them your bell so that they would know who was my fated partner.”“…”“And I also shared the poem with Zhinü in private,” he confesses, startling Jiang Cheng enough that he scuttles out of hiding to stare at him with wide eyes. Lan Xichen’s smile is tinged with sadness. “She liked it a lot. She even said that it was beautiful.” Laughter bubbles up again when Jiang Cheng makes a strangled noise. “You do realise that I'm home because of you?”Jiang Cheng wishes he could protest, but part of him wants more than anything to believe that he could be that important to someone. That’s when Lan Xichen’s gaze sharpens, cutting straight through him in one glance. It can’t be for more than a second or two, but an eternity passes where all he can hear is the same words over and over again. With everything, my reason is you, my reason is you, my reason is you.When Lan Xichen finds whatever he was looking for, he tucks the papers back into his collar and then goes back to dressing himself with a satisfied smile. They both spend a few minutes pulling on boots, robes and in Jiang Cheng’s case, fiddling with his bracers. Even though the matter has been dropped already, he can’t stop worrying more for his husband’s sake than his own.“You’re going to regret carrying it around like that,” he warns him, clicking his tongue when Lan Xichen merely raises his brow. “If it’s that important to you, perhaps you should take my advice! You still sweat, don’t you? And if you didn’t notice, there was literally a storm last night. If the weather worsens again, what will you do if it gets ruined by the rain? Cry?” “Will you comfort me if I do?” “Comfort you? Fuck off.”Lan Xichen dusts off Jiang Cheng’s belt, biting the inside of his cheek trying not to laugh. Jiang Cheng’s concerns are completely valid of course, but he really isn’t worried at all. “It’s fine,” he says. “Even though it will be a shame if it gets ruined, even then I will know every word by heart.”“…”“I really mean it—”“Sit.” Jiang Cheng points at the bed, and he immediately goes to sit. Lan Xichen's eyes drift shut as Jiang Cheng combs out his hair and he exhales slowly. There is no mirror to see what he is doing, but this is the same routine they have been following for well over a week. The rhythmic movements are soothing to the point of almost lulling him to sleep. When he passes Jiang Cheng his hairpin, he speaks without thinking, “Can't we just… run away together, and leave this all behind?”Jiang Cheng fumbles, almost dropping the comb. “Run away?” he repeats stiffly, instantly making Lan Xichen wish he hadn’t spoken at all. “And go where?”“Anywhere,” he says, even as his shame continues to grow, “As long as I'm with you.”“Run away,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, causing his heart to sink to the pit of his stomach. “Very good. And then when heaven snatches you back up, where will we be? Facing the same problem that we are right now. We can’t hide forever. There’s nowhere we can go where they won’t find us.”What can he say to this? What can he do other than to bow his head in acceptance of the truth? Does Jiang Cheng think him a coward now? Really, he shouldn't have said anything. Lan Xichen’s eyes feel hot, but despite that, he smiles against the sting of tears. “You’re right.”“Lan Huan.”“I don’t know what came over me—”“Remember why we came here,” Jiang Cheng says, tapping a few pressure points on Lan Xichen’s shoulders until they release some tension. That deep, resonant voice is softer than it’s ever been, and he shivers at the sound. “We’re doing this for you so that you can stay home.” Lan Xichen jumps when a hand comes in front of his face, the comb dangling from Jiang Cheng’s fingers. “Your turn.”Lan Xichen eagerly goes to take his place, but it’s whilst he’s running his fingers over thick, tangled hair that he finds his thoughts starting to wander again. That faint wisp of an idea had been so blurry in his mind, it was like staring too long at an open flame. Can’t we just run away together, and leave this all behind? Words like that hold nothing in them, so easily spoken and lost on the wind. Better not spoken at all.No doubt that Jiang Cheng will have been tempted to abandon his duties at some point in his life, and he has often pondered what it would be like himself. However, whilst some might relish the thought of freedom as wide as the sky, Lan Xichen knows it’s ultimately not for them. Leaving everything behind would be a burden in itself, and if this week has taught them anything, it’s that they are both creatures of habit.“What are you thinking about so loudly?” Lan Xichen presses his lips together. The back of Jiang Cheng’s hair has really become a mess. Snarled like it’s been tossed around. It’s much worse than it usually is. Combing through another section, he bends down to look at the mass of curls, and then he leans in closer… and closer, because—“Are you sniffing me?”“I smell salt,” he replies, opening his mouth to taste it with his next breath, “From the sea, and an ocean breeze.” Seeing the line of Jiang Cheng’s spine go rigid, he hums low in his throat. “So is that where you went last night?”“…”“Oh, Wanyin.”“What ‘oh, Wanyin’? Wha—”Clearing his throat, he starts listing one by one: “Strike them down, tear them apart, hunt them down. What else did you say you’d do?” Lan Xichen quickly grabs Jiang Cheng before he can escape, lifting him up until his lips are brushing his ear with every word. “They cannot have me, is that right? You would battle a god for me, Jiang Cheng?”“Y-You… when did you, how did you—” Lan Xichen chuckles lowly, “Wanyin, do you really chant into the night?”Jiang Cheng sputters, shuddering at both the hot breath on his skin and the horrifying realisation that Lan Xichen overheard him last night. How fucking humiliating! Was he really listening to him when he was talking to himself, and staggering around like a drunkard, and skipping stones? “No, I… I don't! I didn’t! You heard nothing, Lan Huan! Are we clear?”“Yes, we are,” Lan Xichen sighs happily, holding onto him more tightly. “What’s clear is that I am lucky to have a husband so willing to protect me—”“Ahh!! Shut up, shut up!! How thick is your face?!” Somehow he manages to wriggle his way free and then he stands there, panting and red-faced. Jiang Cheng scowls fiercely, scrubbing his neck and fighting the urge to stomp his foot. Lan Xichen has a hand over his mouth, eyes shining and shoulders shaking. “Stop laughing! When did you become this shameless? Where is your forehead ribbon? I think it’s time you put it on!”“You can put it on me later.”“What—”“Let me finish doing this first,” he says, gesturing towards the bed with a sweet smile. “Please sit.”Silence hangs around them for a drawn-out breath, but the stalemate only lasts a few seconds. There isn’t time to challenge Lan Xichen’s seemingly inexhaustible patience with his own stubbornness. Jiang Cheng reluctantly sits, though he makes a point of perching at the very edge of the mattress. “I want it all tied up.”Lan Xichen had been just about to comb his hair into sections for braiding. Does he mean he wants his hair back to how it was before they were married? “But didn’t you say that according to your mother’s customs, you have to keep your hair styled the same way after marriage?” (It’s to represent starting a new life together.) “Wanyin…”“How am I supposed to fight with my hair flying all over the place? I’m not used to having it down like you, and you know how bad it gets! Risking our lives over something like… hey, Lan Huan?” The hand in his hair has curled into a fist. Jiang Cheng shuffles backwards, huffing a little. “Look, stop worrying. This is not like one of your sect’s rules. Anyway, if you do it then it should be fine.”Lan Xichen has gone strangely quiet. “Is it really fine?”What a strange thing to say. “We’re married, so why wouldn’t it be?” Baffled, Jiang Cheng goes back to facing forwards. “You’ve been practising every day. Do whatever you want. Just get it done.”For a moment, Lan Xichen considers what might work. Something different from Jiang Cheng’s previous style but with everything tied up… ah, that would be good. Excitement blooms in his chest as he scoops up Jiang Cheng’s hair and dips down to kiss his nape, earning him a startled gasp. Lan Xichen tightens his grip, holding him there with one hand. “Like this?” It’s a ponytail, of course. Lan Xichen couldn’t help himself, and now he can’t resist breathing in the scent of lotuses off Jiang Cheng’s skin. Opening his eyes, “Ah yes, it looks good, and luckily I married a younger man, so this younger style—”“Shut up! I didn’t call you old—gaAHH!!”Lan Xichen bites down to stop himself laughing. It’s too much fun teasing Jiang Cheng. Oh, but that probably wasn’t a good idea. When he pulls back there is a perfect indent of his teeth left behind. Wow, it's quite deep.Jiang Cheng hisses, slapping him away and clutching the back of his neck. “How hard did you bite? Now I’m bleeding too!”“Shh, it’s alright. Let me fix it—”“Don’t lick me!”“Calm down. There, you see? Your hair is long enough to cover it.”“That’s not the point, Lan Huan!”“It’s done,” Lan Xichen announces, pinning his hair in place. Whilst he would prefer seeing Jiang Cheng with his hair fully down, it’s still very beautiful like this. Lan Xichen carefully strokes one glossy curl, twirling it around his finger. Should he cut it off? That is one wedding tradition they haven't done, but is it even necessary after what they did last night?[2] “If you think about it, your mother’s customs are actually somewhat similar to one of ours.”Jiang Cheng, “What do you mean?”“My forehead ribbon,” he explains, passing Jiang Cheng said ribbon. It must have fallen off sometime during the night and was left tangled amongst the ruined sheets. Jiang Cheng rises onto his knees to tie it for him, but Lan Xichen sways back out of reach. “It’s yours,” he says, catching his wrist and waiting until their eyes meet again. “How can it be mine if you’re the one who will wear it?” Jiang Cheng chuckles, tilting his head when Lan Xichen simply gazes back at him. Right. Think about it. How are these two things alike? The smile drops right off his face. Oh. The ribbon. That is reserved for, that is only for... "Oh."“I will wear it,” Lan Xichen lifts his hand to hold against his chest, “But it represents a claim as to what is yours.”Maybe yesterday it was his turn to steal Lan Xichen’s breath at every turn, but now he’s put every effort into paying it forward, and Jiang Cheng absurdly feels like he’s about to burst into tears. All this relentless teasing, this back-and-forth, and joking around, this… this heart beating hard and fast against his palm. How can all of that be his? Last night it was easy enough to tell the moon, sea, and stars that everything he had belonged to him—(But who was he really trying to convince? The moon, sea and stars, or himself?)Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath and quickly looks away. “What does that mean?”Lan Xichen stares.At first, he doesn’t know if he’s being deliberately coy.Then, seeing that Jiang Cheng is avoiding looking at him and remembering where they misunderstood each other… he reminds himself that this isn’t always easy for everyone. Sometimes love might seem threatening or strange, and to someone as cautious as Jiang Cheng (I think you overestimate how well I understand you), it might be difficult to accept what love he is given doesn’t need to be earned like everything else in life. H ere, it has no measurements. No limits. No hesitations. That should make it simple enough to understand, but perhaps… perhaps, even then it requires some explanation. “What does it mean?” he muses aloud. “Only that my heart is yours. And my soul too. And the song that I wrote, and my ribbon, and my sword—”
Snort.
Smiling, “Did I say something funny?”“No, no, please. You were saying.” Jiang Cheng fixes his expression, though his voice wobbles slightly, “Your s-sword is also mine. What else?”“Everything else included with this body,” he says, grinning helplessly when Jiang Cheng smothers another laugh. “But what I mean is that Shuoyue also answers to you now. I can feel it, and so can you.” Lan Xichen summons his sword, bringing it to hover between them. “There is a pulse linking us together. It belongs just as much in your hands—yes, Wanyin, your hands—as it does mine. I believe you could wield it if you had to.”Spiritual weapons. Golden cores. There is a reason why cultivators are bound to their swords, just as there are certain benefits that come with dual cultivation. Jiang Cheng nods, “Well, this is all very romantic… but I have Zidian and Sandu already, and I only have two hands. Both of which I need to tie your forehead ribbon. Zewu-Jun, please lower your sword. It’s in the way.”Lan Xichen frowns but then recovers swiftly. “Which one?”“Which one? Which one—” Jiang Cheng grabs him by the ear to drag him down. “You're really shameless without your ribbon, aren’t you? Maybe I should gag you with this before you truly forget what it means to show restraint. I assure you, it's for your own good, Lan Huan. Hold still.” Once the ribbon is secured, Jiang Cheng hesitates briefly and then darts up to kiss his forehead. “Now you must behave.”“Speaking of swords,” Lan Xichen says, staring fixedly at his lips, “By which... I mean our weapons. Do you need more spiritual energy? The worst thing is running out during a fight. We still have time. This husband would gladly provide you with more if you wish.”Jiang Cheng squints up at him. In what universe would he require more spiritual energy after what he was given last night? Hours have passed, and still, his core feels like it could melt the sun. “Thank you for the offer,” he replies. “But I would really like to walk, not limp into battle. Anyway, maybe next time this husband will be the one providing—” “Is that a promise?”“—the… a promise? Who said anything about a promise? Lan Huan, what’s with that face? Why are you so eager?”“Why wouldn’t I be eager? You wouldn’t suggest something if you didn’t think I’d like it, and I want to try everything with you. I was even wondering if we might—”Jiang Cheng slams a hand over his mouth, his face starting to match the colour of his clothes. What Lan Xichen is suggesting isn’t the problem, but it’s really not the right time to be thinking such things. His traitorous mind whispers, how good would it be to earn some scars on his back? What would it be like to have Lan Xichen spread out beneath him, to feel his warmth and listen to him gasping in pleasure—Looking at him is really too dangerous. Someone could get lost in those eyes blown so dark with desire. His complaint comes out weakly, “Have I not tied your forehead ribbon correctly? Why are you still behaving like this? You need to stop.”“I’m only like this when I am with you.”“That’s terrible.”“But it has made me better, loving you.” When Lan Xichen surges forwards to wrap him in his arms, Jiang Cheng turns his head and closes his eyes. Lan Xichen’s chest rumbles, his embrace surrounding him in warmth. “If we can’t run away together, let’s stay together instead.”Jiang Cheng sighs, “Is that really our choice to make?”"Even if it isn't, let's say that it is."The dawn has finally broken to spill light across the floor, forcing Jiang Cheng into uncurling his legs from the sheets. He rises to stand without ever leaving the circle of Lan Xichen’s arms. There is no more time left to spend idly chatting. Even if they woke up early, they’ve really taken their time with each other. They cannot avoid the outside world forever.“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says, waiting until he hums before continuing, “‘Plan for tomorrow, live for today’. Isn’t that what you told me?” Jiang Cheng presses his forehead against Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “But if tomorrow doesn’t come, what then happens to those plans?” One would have to be blind and deaf to miss the worry in his voice. Nothing is certain, not even tomorrow.Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, holding onto his husband with all of his strength. There must be a reason why their song has no ending, and why this love burns brighter than his dreams, and why the plans he has are endless. What happens to the plans that never come to be? There are so many of them that he has kept stowed away in secret. After making them, they were left to gather dust. He has never been comfortable sharing his ideas with others, but here…Instead of giving Lan Xichen any type of answer, Jiang Cheng finds himself saying: “I have something to say first. Will you listen?”Lan Xichen says nothing. He is already listening.“Someday I want us to go night-hunting together, or perhaps go on smaller travels that return us home by dinnertime.” Here, he cracks a smile. “When I was younger I always wanted to go on adventures, but the years passed and I never got the chance to. It was never the right time or place to indulge in those idle fantasies, so I put them aside and forgot about them.”Lan Xichen strokes his hair, calmly listening to everything even as his heart thunders inside. This can’t be surprising to him. He must know the trapped sense of helplessness that comes from living a life where duty comes first. Though it is an honour to lead a sect, your life is no longer your own. Part of you wants to cling to all the things you want so badly, but at the same time, you’ve already let them go.“Then you carved out hours of your day and made time for me, even when there was hardly any left for you. For the first time in years, I’ve been able to think about what I want in life. You would have thought that my desire for adventures would come back, but with what we’re facing now, I've already had enough. This myth come to life, this… this fucking nightmare.” He huffs out a laugh. “I still can't quite believe it, and what’s most tragic about it is the fact that it was real.”
(It’s only tragedies that are spoken of again and again. No one likes a happy ending.)
“We’ve said before that the stories that are remembered, the ones that become legends, are rarely ever happy,” Jiang Cheng pulls away to look at him, “But if this life is to become our story, that means the ending is whatever we make it. It's in our hands.”
(Fate is what we are given. Destiny is what we make for ourselves.)
Lan Xichen’s eyes flash golden, a radiant smile lighting up his face. The moon was never this bright. “That also means that if our adventure ends tragically, at least you and I will become legends.” Jiang Cheng’s jaw drops. What an awful thing to say! Seriously, what type of bullshit is… oh, is he joking again? “Even so,” his smile softens, “I don’t think this will be our last adventure.”“How can you know that?”“I can’t, but I have to believe it can happen, otherwise it never will.”Jiang Cheng shakes his head. It’s a wonder that he could have given courage and hope to someone who seemed to have both of them in abundance. They walk together, following the shifting sunshine which flows like a golden river over their toes, leading them across the room. Thank god the door survived. Jiang Cheng stares at the door handle for a long time.He has always liked happy endings.Lan Xichen knows this. They have talked about it many times, and read so many stories and poems, but every time they would come back to the same myth again and again. The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.They didn’t know yet that the legend was real, but now knowing that Zhinü and Lan An have spent countless years separated makes all the difference. One cannot imagine their suffering. How different could their lives have been if they had just been regular people? It’s an impossibility, but—just for a moment—he wonders if they could have been happy if no one would have known about them at all.When he was a child, the thought of leaving his mark on the world and being immortalised in the storybooks for generations to read about… it used to thrill him. He wanted nothing more than to triumph in everything. The Twin Heroes would go down in history, blazing a trail unsurpassed by anyone. They would make their family proud. They would never be forgotten.But since then his heart has changed.And now, holding Lan Xichen’s hand in his, he doesn’t want to let go. This is everything he wants right here. There are no more ambitions of glory. Let adventures be read in books and sung in songs. Let them fight this battle and see it through together. Standing on the threshold, Jiang Cheng can’t help thinking that given the choice, he would much rather they be forgotten together than remembered apart—“Yes.”Jiang Cheng is no longer surprised that his thoughts have unwittingly been shared. There is no shame in it here, or at least not with Lan Xichen, who is looking at him as if he’s said something either utterly baffling or something that makes complete sense. Perhaps they are well-matched after all. If one of them wants to run away, the other wants to be forgotten. One could even say they shared the same dream in different colours.“To be forgotten would be a small price. One that I would pay gladly for today and tomorrow, and every day that follows thereafter.” Lan Xichen’s eyes are a heavenly gold as he says this, and seeing this, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if he should laugh or not. How could anyone forget someone like him? Even before this, he was already extraordinary. “With or without me, I wish for your happiness[3], but if you’ll allow it, I’d love nothing more than to walk next to you for the rest of my life.”There’s no way to guarantee that making such declarations will do anything, yet Jiang Cheng can’t help smiling back at him anyway. That this man has remained gentle and loving after all that he’s been through is nothing short of a miracle. Some might call him naive for leaving his heart so open, but Jiang Cheng knows that to remain kind in the face of adversity requires strength beyond measure. The last time he knew this type of kindness was when he buried her in Lanling Jin. What better way is there to honour her memory than to accept the hand he’s being offered?
For today and tomorrow, and every day that follows thereafter.
Thinking about this, he can find nothing to say except, “Shall we go then, Zewu-Jun?”And thus the day begins.
Everything gleams as the sun beats down on the shimmering world. The rain from last night has left the ground polished like silver and the air smelling slightly sweeter. The sky has lightened too, with not a cloud in sight. Simply put, taking a stroll on a morning like this is refreshing and wonderful to all of the senses. Jiang Cheng sucks in a slow breath and holds it for a few minutes until his lungs start to ache. This is all very nice, but when people recommend getting one’s feet wet on their travels, he reckons they probably don’t mean it quite like this. Stomping through a row of puddles, splashing mud about and kicking pebbles. Ugh. It’s not been that long since they left the room but he already misses it. “…Wanyin?”“Yes, what is it? Why are you standing so close? You’re going to get your clothes dirty. Back off a bit—” Jiang Cheng glances sideways. “What are you laughing at?”“You called me childish yesterday, but now you’re the one splashing around in puddles.” “…” “It’s fine. I also loved playing in puddles as a child—”“Shut up.”The First Jade tosses his head back and laughs into the breeze, this action immediately drawing eyes over from all around. It’s not surprising. With his handsome features and tall, graceful figure, his immaculate appearance is more than enough to turn heads. Have any of them ever seen such a man in all their lives? On second thought, have any of them ever seen the esteemed Zewu-Jun chortling like a child who’s been fed too many sweets?Whilst he would never normally care what impression he was giving others, Jiang Cheng finds himself correcting his posture and schooling his expression a little. Was that too obvious? Does that count as preening? The last thing he wants is to overdo things and end up looking ridiculous, but he should at least make some effort to behave properly. Zewu-Jun should be seen with respectable company, shouldn’t he?Lan Xichen, “What are we going to tell the innkeeper?” Jiang Cheng blinks. “About what?” “The room was destroyed. We’ll need to explain what happened.”“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Zewu-Jun. There was a terrible storm last night. Isn’t it obvious what happened? What else could have caused all of that damage?”Lan Xichen smiles slowly, “You’re quite right. What else, indeed?”Jiang Cheng gives him a look. “One would have thought a storm like that would have been memorable for you.” He stares at Lan Xichen until he looks away. “We get them sometimes in Yunmeng, but mostly in the summer. I don’t think we’ve ever had one quite like this though—” “Sect Leader, it’s really terrible isn’t it?” a vendor exclaims, stirring his pot vigorously. “Such horrible, out-of-season weather! It came so suddenly that we had no time to prepare, and now,” flinging an arm out, “Just look at the place!”They walked to the docks to search for the juniors who will undoubtedly have come down for breakfast too. It’s a lot less busy compared to yesterday, with most of the stalls closed and the bustle of the crowds significantly diminished. The storm has certainly left its mark, leaving most things wet and broken. Jiang Cheng wrinkles his nose at the thought of how much the cost for all of this will be.He makes a mental note to send a letter to Lotus Pier.“This is too kind of you, sir,” Lan Xichen says, easing him out of his thoughts. He gently nudges Jiang Cheng to pass him a bowl of porridge. “Thank you very much for this.”“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. Eat well, please. Even if business is bad, it’s times like these when we must share what we have.” The old man scratches his head. “Strange weather and bad harvests. The fishing has been terrible too. This year is really such a mess. That’s why the porridge is plain. There’s not even any spice!”“No spice?” Jiang Cheng sips some of the broth and nods. “Yes, it’s very bland.” Holding the spoon up to Lan Xichen’s mouth, “Taste it.” Lan Xichen, “…it’s good.” Handing the rest to him, “Here, you can finish it then.”Both the First Jade and the vendor watch Jiang Cheng with interest, and it’s then that he seems to realise what he’s done. He walks away very quickly after that. Lan Xichen babbles another quick thank you and rushes after him. By the time he catches up to him, Jiang Cheng has managed to buy two cups of tea and is busy blowing the steam away. Lan Xichen finds himself utterly enchanted by the splotches of colour blooming across his face.Jiang Cheng averts his gaze. “That’s Yunmeng hospitality for you. Make sure to eat all of that porridge.” His eyes flick back towards him and then skitter away again, cheeks reddening further. “This village may be on the border, but it still counts as one of our territories. Don’t worry. None of the people here will starve this winter.”Lan Xichen’s heart flutters in his chest, “I know.”Facing the wind, they walk further along the docks with their backs to the sun, sometimes side-by-side but often in single file across the narrow walkways. Lan Xichen squints at Jiang Cheng’s silhouette, following the ripple of his hair in the breeze. Eventually, he stops, his attention drawn to the water in one smooth movement. Lan Xichen glances over and sees a few boys swimming in the sea, meanwhile Jiang Cheng turns to squint at the docks. “In a way, it’s a good thing the storm came last night. With the docks this empty, that means if we do end up battling whatever sea-monster lives here, we won’t be stuck having to evacuate the area as well.” “That’s true.” Lan Xichen hesitates, but then adds, “Those boys, however—”“What a bunch of idiots.” Jiang Cheng huffs when he sees what he’s talking about. “Who the hell goes swimming when there are no boats out on the water? They should know better. Are they really that eager for death? Well then, serves them right.”“Should we perhaps intervene?” Lan Xichen says, frowning when two heads dip into the water and stay under for several minutes. “They can swim, can't they?”“They’re from Yunmeng, Lan Huan. Can fish swim?” Lan Xichen opens his mouth to reply to this, but then another boy dives into the water without even making a splash. Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows. “Not bad,” he murmurs. “See what I mean? It’s a shame though. The kid’s got talent, but piss-poor survival instincts.”“You’re one to speak.”Both of them whirl around, but Jiang Cheng catches Lan Xichen's wrist before he can pull out Liebing, and to his dismay—there, lounging on top of the small boathouse, is Wei Wuxian. The man tosses a peanut at Jiang Cheng’s scowling face, grinning when he manages to catch it in his mouth. Of course, Wen Ning is stiffly sat beside him, and Lan Wangji is stood like a sentinel next to his dangling foot. Wei Wuxian props his chin on one hand. “From what I can remember, there was once a little boy I knew who was so determined to hunt water ghouls that he almost ended up joining them at the bottom of the lake. He swam very well, but I remember having to save him from drowning not once, not twice, but four separate times.”Jiang Cheng, “What nonsense.”“Ah well, if you say so.” Wei Wuxian stretches his arms out, his jaw cracking in a wide yawn. Smacking his lips, “My memory can be quite bad. That being said, I distinctly remember—”“You’re late,” Jiang Cheng cuts him off, crossing his arms when his brother merely shrugs at this. “Why are you always late, and why am I never surprised?" Sneering, "Also, why must your dramatic entrances always take place on a roof?” This reference to the Nightless City has all of them staring awkwardly at each other. He’s not wrong though. It’s true that Wei Wuxian seems to have a habit of announcing himself on a roof. Indeed, neither he nor Lan Wangji can refute that either. Jiang Cheng’s face sours. Are they really so fragile that one small statement like that causes such an overreaction?Then Lan Xichen mutters under his breath, “Maybe he likes to be tall.” Jiang Cheng breaks out coughing, spluttering madly until his nose is burning. His coughing fit only gets worse when Lan Xichen proceeds to pat his back and fuss over him. Did no one else hear that?Wei Wuxian leaps off the roof, “What happened? Did the peanut go down the wrong way? Don’t die Jiang Cheng!”“Will you sh-shut up,” he croaks, glaring tearfully at Lan Xichen, who merely offers him a handkerchief and a concerned smile. “Anyway, b-back to what I was saying. You’re late. Did something happen? Did you find what you were searching for? How did you know to come here?”Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. “What’s the rush, huh? Moving so quickly onto business, you’re not even bothering to ask how I am first—” Something cuts him off mid-sentence. It’s terrible watching how Wei Wuxian looks back and forth between him and Lan Xichen and a slow smile spreads across his face. “But more importantly, how have you been, my dearest shīdì?”Jiang Cheng, “None of your business.”“You’re looking very well, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding to himself. “Why, one might even say that you were glowing!”Wen Ning, “But Young Master Wei, if you look closely, he is actually glo—”Lan Wangji clears his throat, shaking his head sharply.In a strained voice, Jiang Cheng repeats, “You’re late. Explain yourself.”“Well, there are several reasons for that. Firstly, there were many strange things about the mountain we went to, one of them being Baoshan Sanren herself. Yes, we found her,” he says when Jiang Cheng inhales sharply, “And it turns out that somehow, both she and her disciples have also been affected by the curse. It probably spread through Lan An, since he was one of those disciples."Don't bother asking. It would take too long to explain everything, and may I remind you that you were in a hurry moments ago?”Lan Wangji, “Baoshan Sanren’s assessment was that whilst immortality might be attainable for anyone, godhood is a different matter altogether.”Wei Wuxian purses his lips, “But then when we were about to ask how she came upon this knowledge, it seems that for some reason she’s been affected by a spell that distorts her memory. She’s effectively stuck in a loop that keeps her bound to the mountain, though she also leaves it to search for her disciples. It seems she's under the impression that they're still alive."I suspect that no matter how many times she leaves, she will always come back to the mountain. The gods clearly don’t want her telling others whatever it is that she knows.” It’s probably just their luck that Baoshan Sanren likely holds the key to solving their dilemma. Thinking that yet another immortal has a part to play in all of this causes his scalp to prickle with tension. Lan Xichen shivers, glancing nervously at the water. The boys have finished swimming and are crawling out one by one, their laughter ringing too loudly in his ears.“After we descended the mountain,” Wei Wuxian continues, “We went to the nearest town to rest, only to find out that in the hours we’d spent on the mountain, whole days had passed elsewhere. We thought it had to be some kind of time-warping sigil, or that it might be linked to Baoshan Sanren’s affliction, but we looked everywhere and couldn’t find anything at all.”The breeze seems to gnaw at his bones. It’s winter, he tells himself. It’s meant to be cold. But what type of enchantment could warp time like that? Something powerful. Something divine?“After that, we decided it was time to come look for you. It wasn’t difficult at all to find out where you were. Word travels fast, you see.” Wei Wuxian’s solemn expression cracks into another grin, “When we heard that Zewu-Jun was wandering about again and headed to the coast in the company of Sect Leader Jiang, we tried our best to catch up to you. We were doing quite well actually, but then last night, out of nowhere came this… this fucking gigantic storm!”“As I've said before, the weather we’ve been having lately is quite strange—”“What the fuck!?” Jiang Cheng spins around again. This time Lan Xichen stops him before he can throw a punch, holding his clenched fist until Zidian dims. Jiang Cheng’s scowl deepens, “Where the hell did you come from?!”Sun Wu Kong holds up some jianbing, “Breakfast.”Jiang Cheng leans around him to look, and spits out, “Oh fuck, not you too.” Behind him are the juniors, all four of them munching on some type of food, and a few steps further behind them stand the Eight Immortals in various states of drunkenness. Lan Xichen immediately starts patting his back again, almost knocking him to the ground with the force of his hand. Jiang Cheng opens his mouth, presumably to yell, but Wei Wuxian interrupts again. “As I was saying, we were trying to make it here but then the storm kept blowing us off-course. We ended up having to take shelter further away. When the winds finally died down, I went to go check it out—”Lan Wangji, “Reckless.”“—but then I figured it was probably best not to come yet because there was some lunatic throwing things around and shouting—”“Oh, we heard that too,” Lao Li agrees mildly. “Yes, they sounded quite threatening.”“—so that’s why we’re late. It was really bizarre though! I’ve never seen a storm appear like that in all my years. It’s like Hóuwáng said, the weather has been so strange. Yesterday there were clouds and rain[4], and lightning and thunder, but now look! Today there’s nothing but clear skies for miles around!”There is a moment where no one knows what to say or where to look. Of course, Wei Wuxian is probably very aware of what he’s said. It was also probably completely intentional. Realising this, Jiang Cheng slaps a hand to his forehead, barely resisting from smacking that insufferable man to the ground. Even the children’s munching sounds have stopped, but then—“Yes, the storm was very noisy last night!” Jingyi blurts out. “It was even rattling the walls, Senior Wei! How strange! And this morning it’s all gone!”Sizhui groans, covering his face. Ouyang Zizhen looks like he might be choking on something. Jin Ling, on the other hand, lifts his chin up imperiously, “Tsk, it was so loud that we hardly got any sleep! It’s just as well there’s no clouds or rain this morning, otherwise I would—”“Yes, otherwise you would what? Keep talking!” Jiang Cheng snaps, unable to take any more of this. “Finish what you were going to say, or else tell me who was it who bought us a room with just one bed?!”“I… I…” Jin Ling sputters, his face switching between red and white. Ah, so now he gets it. Good. Horrified as he is by this blatant accusation, apparently, he’s learnt when to admit defeat. “Not me, jiujiu,” he mumbles miserably, glaring at the floor, “Wasn’t me.” Jiang Cheng snorts. “If you say so.” Who else could it have been? Gusu Lan only allows its young masters to go on authorised travels with fat money pouches, otherwise they’re left as poor as begging monks! Folding his arms again, he ignores the eyes that follow him, refusing to be embarrassed by this. Back to business. “For the benefit of certain latecomers,” he announces, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s protests, “I’ll summarise what happened this past week…” Lan Xichen tries his best to pay attention, but his mind sways with every mention of Guanyin, and he wants… he wishes again, that they could run away from all of this. He’s never been one to run from a fight, but this is completely different from even the worst of battles. The stakes are higher. Listening to Jiang Cheng talk, he closes his eyes to really concentrate. If meditation is not available to him, at least there's this.There are the lapping waves, the hiss of sea-foam dispersing on the shore, distant conversations and crying seagulls, and then he can also hear… the slight rasp of a voice worn from a night of passion, the steady thrum of spiritual energy rising and falling with each breath, and the quiet confidence of a leader speaking to his—“It was a mistake coming here,” Jingyi says, causing all his thoughts to scatter at once. “I’ve said before, it’s a trap!” “And I’ve said before that that doesn't matter.” Jiang Cheng appears totally unmoved and unimpressed by the interruption. Lan Xichen hangs onto his every word. Calm. How is he so calm? “Do what you want. I’ve told you to leave already. If you’re not going to do that, don’t get in the way then. Either way, this is happening.”Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows fly up. “Is there really no other option or have you simply not thought of anything else?”“There really isn’t any other option, young master,” Lao Li replies in his stead. “Either you accept this as your challenge or face the consequences. Always remember that you are being watched by heaven. That means that if you abandon this task, it’s likely the gods will try to intervene—”Jiang Cheng, “They can fuck right off. We’re doing this.” Sun Wu Kong plucks at his lip. “Then you must cross the sea first. There are what… nine of you? That’s one more than these Eight Immortals here, and they’ve crossed the sea countless times.[5] Shouldn’t be a problem.”“Shouldn’t be a problem?” Jingyi squawks. “Wouldn’t you say the dragon lurking under the sea is a pretty big problem?”Sun Wu Kong blinks slowly, “No?”Jingyi, “Are you serious?!”Sun Wu Kong, “Why wouldn't I be? You’re speaking to someone who has fought several dragons, and this lot here have also fought dragons. Who cares if there’s a dragon? What's the problem? Beat them up, I say. Get it done.”It’s moments like these that remind everyone that they’re walking among legendary figures here, talking to real heroes who have battled the gods countless times. Despite this, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and huffs out a sigh. JingYi seems to be lost for words, so Jin Ling steps forwards with both hands on his hips in the perfect imitation of his uncle. “Get it done? You make it sound so easy!” “Oh, I never said it was going to be easy.” Sun Wu Kong’s smile is anything but comforting. Blazing eyes turn to the water, “I would recommend drawing them out first. The worst thing is going into battle without knowing where your opponent is. They could strike from any angle.”“The sea is too calm,” Lu Dongbin agrees. “When the enemy is too settled, make them move.”A harsh gust of salty air sweeps across, forcing Lan Xichen to open his eyes. Was it just his imagination, or did the air become colder? The clear skies are starting to become overcast with dark grey clouds. Has the storm returned? Scanning the horizon, he doesn’t quite know what to make of their enemy. A divine beast is bound to be infinitely wise and powerful. If it has any weaknesses, they will need to find them. Avoid what is strong, strike at what is weak.Even if they can manage that, the question still remains: do they really stand a chance against a dragon?(Then again, is he not also a dragon?)“Draw them out,” Wei Wuxian echoes, rubbing his chin. “That might just work.” “Which one is it?” Ouyang Zizhen asks, pointing at one of the rock islands. “Is it that island or that one? I can’t see any shrines. It’s too far away.”“Maybe if we were to fly out together,” Sizhui suggests, “We would stand a better chance if we split up, but that would also weaken us should we actually have to face the beast—”“Sizhui, let’s go!” Jingyi has already leapt onto his sword. “What are you all standing around for? Come on!”The moment he hears this, Jin Ling doesn’t hesitate to join them.Seeing them mount their swords one-by-one, Lan Xichen is reminded of the other boys swimming in the water. If they were swimming there, why didn’t the dragon come out back then? Could it be that it only reveals itself when it is provoked? Soon enough, all of the juniors are up in the air. It’s without thinking that he grabs Jiang Cheng, stopping him from chasing after them. Jiang Cheng smacks at his arms, “Lan Huan, back off!”“Let them go,” Sun Wu Kong drawls, flapping a hand. “They’ll be back before you know it. They’re younger and faster than you anyway. It’s probably just as well—”“Jin Ling!” Jiang Cheng roars, but now he’s gripping onto Lan Xichen’s wrists. With anyone else, the pressure would have broken their bones. “Listen here, you damn brat! When you come back I’m going to give you the beating of your lifetime!! I told you to go home!! How fucking dare you turn a deaf ear to my words!! Are you even listening to me?!” Wen Ning, “I don’t think he can hear you, Sect Leader.”“Do you really think they’ll come back with you shouting like that? The dragon is probably less frightening than you!” Wei Wuxian laughs. Then he quickly adds, “Stop worrying so much. They’ll be fine.” With a frustrated growl, Jiang Cheng curses, “Fuck. Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Let’s not waste time,” Lan Xichen says, watching the boys circling above the water. Their sword glares are no bigger than dragonflies over a pond. “We can figure out some things before the battle gets properly underway. Young Master Wei was just saying that drawing the dragon out ‘might work’, by which I believe he must be thinking of creating a diversion...” Smiling warmly, “Yes Wangji, was there something you wanted to say?”There is a pause, and then he says, “Brother must be the one to go to the shrine.”Lan Xichen, “Yes, it seems so.”“The condition is that you must stay with your spouse,” Lan Wangji continues, flicking a glance towards Jiang Cheng. “If possible, he should go with you. However, you are the priority.”Lan Xichen’s smile vanishes. “Wangji—”“No, he’s right. What’s important is getting you there. When you arrive on the island, the only thing left to do is to summon Guanyin.” Jiang Cheng twists around to look at him. “That means that once this starts, you don’t stop for anything. Don’t stop flying. Don’t look back.” He studies Lan Xichen’s expression for a moment and then lowers his voice, “Lan Huan, what’s wrong?”There are so many things wrong. Being told to run and not stop brings back memories that haunt him to this day. It might be the most important task, but in the end, it still counts as running, doesn’t it?As well as that, he can't help thinking that there's something not quite right here. He wouldn’t dare to say that any of this was too easy, but it seems almost too simple after everything else they have discovered. For this to come down to a battle with a dragon, something about that feels like it’s meant to signify something. Is the dragon merely meant to serve an obstacle on their journey, or is it possible that they also have their own story to tell?A vibration in the air turns everyone’s heads.The juniors are practically skimming the water with how low they are flying. There is another scraping sound that causes the seagulls to shriek overhead. Distantly, he can hear Jingyi’s guttural voice slicing through the waves, but there is still no sign of the beast. Yesterday, the sea came alive the moment they tried to cross it. Why is nothing happening despite all this ruckus? That's when it dawns on him, could that be the reason…?“It’s waiting for us.”Jiang Cheng’s fingers tighten around his wrist. “Don’t be afraid.” What an impossible request. Don’t be afraid? Everything they want is on the other side of fear. There’s no way around it otherwise. Lan Xichen forces out a laugh, “With you to protect me, what reason do I have to fear?”Jiang Cheng loosens his hold. “You have every reason, but I believe you can do this.”The wind whips past again, this time bringing by four dishevelled boys with it. They collapse on the ground, groaning and smacking at their ears. Jin Ling shakes his head like a dog and suddenly kicks some sand at Jingyi in outrage. This starts a battle that is much smaller, but no less fierce than the one they’re actually trying to prepare for. Both boys tumble into the water in a flurry of limbs. “Well,” Ouyang Zizhen says, trudging towards them whilst Sizhui tries to separate the other two. “We looked around, but there was nothing.”“Nothing except Jingyi bursting our eardrums!” Jin Ling shouts. “Nice job! A fat lot of good that did!”“So that plan failed miserably. What’s next?” Jingyi flicks some seaweed at Jin Ling, turning to glare at the Monkey King. “Any more suggestions? Any more bright ideas? How do you bait a dragon who refuses to show itself? Do we even have a way to defeat it?”Sizhui says out of nowhere, “Lao Li said that the gods would intervene if we cannot complete this challenge, but isn’t the challenge itself interference by a god? The dragon is a god too, isn’t it?”“Correct, but this dragon is also a disciple of Guanyin,” Lao Li replies, “In fact, he is the one who guards her personally. Whilst his interest in guarding the shrine is likely to be a heaven-sent order, it’s probably also out of a genuine desire to protect his master that he does this.” That isn’t a weakness. That might, in fact, be worse for them if the dragon is personally motivated to protect Guanyin. Lan Xichen remembers what Lao Li said in heaven, and his hope continues to dwindle. “Speaking of divine intervention, I suppose we can't expect assistance from any of you, can we?”Lao Li shakes his head, “Not a good idea, lad.”Sun Wu Kong, “If we were to get involved, there’s no doubt it would truly become a battle of epic proportions. You do want to survive this, don’t you? Then keep in mind that smaller is better. Also, I would say that killing the dragon is not advisable. To anyone else, I would say lop off his head and be done with it, but this here it’s different.” He laughs. “Ah, it’s quite the predicament you’re caught in.”Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”“Young Master Lan’s allies in heaven are thin on the ground, his current divine merits amount to nothing, and already he is rebelling against the Jade Emperor. If he were to become responsible for taking another god's life, can you imagine what impact that would have on his reputation? What punishment would that incur on top of his current sentence? Killing the dragon might win you this battle, but at the same time it will almost certainly lose you the wager.” “Uh-huh, so no killing the dragon. Just beating him up. That doesn't sound difficult at all.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is buoyant, but his pupils are dilated and his complexion is rather pale. “And whilst we're doing that, you lot are apparently happy to just sit here and watch us fight for our lives. Wonderful. May I ask if you have any advice for us, or are we going into this completely blind?”The Immortals exchange a few glances, conferring a bit before answering, “Mind the claws. And the teeth.”Sun Wu Kong offers, “The tail can be tricky.”“…” Sun Wu Kong, “Best watch out for that.”“…is that everything? Well, good. Excellent. Yes.” Clapping his hands, he turns to Lan Wangji. “It’s been a nice second life, Lan Zhan. I’ve enjoyed it very much.”Lan Wangji nods, “Mn.”“Alright, so the gods want to be entertained? By all means, let’s give them a show. Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian clears his throat, rolling his shoulders back as he strides off to the waterside, his husband close behind him, “Are you well enough to fly?”Jiang Cheng watches him climb onto his unnamed sword. “Why wouldn’t I be?”“Well,” Eventually, Wei Wuxian manages to find his balance and props his hands proudly on his hips, “Your skill in riding swords is undoubtedly very good. We've all heard lots about it. There’s no question about that.”“…” “So if it’s easier for you to fly with Xichen-gē this morning, that’s perfectly understandable. There’s absolutely no shame in—”“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng growls, unsheathing Sandu, “If you’re that eager to lose your life, come here then! Let me give you a hand!”In his shock, Wei Wuxian wobbles, almost falling into the water. Then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Shooting up like an arrow, a peal of laughter trails after him. Lan Wangji follows behind on Bichen, sweeping upwards in a graceful arc. At a safer distance, Wei Wuxian holds up his hands, “Jiang Cheng, let’s not fight! Remember, we’re on the same side! I was only trying to be considerate!” Jiang Cheng strides after him, “Considerate? Fuck off! Why don’t you shut up? This is not the time to be joking around! Are you even listening to me…”Listening to them bickering brings a sense of comfort, and as Lan Xichen watches this, he thinks about the adventures Jiang Cheng dreamt of going on in his childhood.Were those adventures planned for two little boys, he wonders? This will be the first time the Twin Heroes have drawn their blades together in almost two decades. One can only hope they won't be using them against each other. Despite all of Jiang Cheng’s scolding, there's no disguising the jittery excitement in his voice. Watching him running after Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen laughs quietly, suddenly feeling somewhat relieved.“Why is it that no one ever says goodbye properly?” Jingyi grumbles, hopping onto his sword with a huff. The other juniors have already returned to the sky. It’s very unlike him to lag behind. “Quite honestly, I’m beginning to think that every story I’ve ever read is a lie…” Lan Xichen, “Is something the matter, Jingyi?”Jingyi's head shoots up, a blush immediately covering his cheeks. “No, Zewu-Jun. I just thought…" He shakes his head, fidgeting. "No, no, never mind. I'm being silly as usual. Are you coming?”Lan Xichen pats his head. “In a bit. You go ahead.” At first, Jingyi opens his mouth, but then he sees Jiang Cheng approaching and his bad mood seems to dissipate. What a strange reaction. Without saying another word, Jingyi tosses him a hopeful look and flies off to join his friends. Aside from the Immortals, they are the only ones still on the ground. When Jiang Cheng walks over, he knows that it's time. “I'll be going with them,” Jiang Cheng tells him, coming to stand by his side. “We’ll have to gauge how difficult things are first. If they don't need help and if I'm able to do so, I’ll come and find you later. What are you doing?”Lan Xichen pauses in his actions, Shuoyue’s blade shimmering in his hand.Jiang Cheng hesitates for a moment, clearly struggling with something. Then he smiles faintly. “You don’t need Shuoyue to fly anymore. Why use your sword like that when you don't have to? We'll need every weapon we have at our disposal. This isn't the time to be holding back,” he says. “Just be yourself, Lan Huan.”Something about these words slows the world down for a moment.Ever since he came down from heaven, it’s been difficult figuring out how much of him has changed and how much has remained the same. He didn’t want to accept that he wasn’t the person he used to be. He wanted to go back to how he was before, scared that with all these changes it would be too much, but now he can’t help worrying what if he's actually not enough—
Don’t be afraid.
With all of heaven and earth watching, he reaches over to cup Jiang Cheng’s face and leans up to press his lips to his forehead. A flutter of lashes brushes against his jaw. “Wanyin,” Lan Xichen sighs, pulling back with a tremulous smile. “Come find me later. I’ll be waiting for you.”Jiang Cheng staggers backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. Whatever he's feeling causes his face to turn bright red, and then he jumps on Sandu and takes off, just like that! Others might be discouraged by this reaction, but Lan Xichen simply lifts his head to watch him ascend into the darkening clouds… then he watches him circle back around, and his breath catches when he sees Jiang Cheng’s fierce expression.Grabbing him by the lapels, he pulls Lan Xichen up into a bruising kiss.Sparks burst behind his eyelids, and when he opens them the world flashes with bright white light. Lan Xichen’s head falls back, gasping at the taste of blood. Jiang Cheng licks his lips, grey eyes the same colour as the sky above. “Behave,” he says with a wicked grin, and then he drops him.Lan Xichen sinks by a few feet, completely speechless as Jiang Cheng flies away. The whistle of swords barely registers over the deep rumble of the approaching storm. There was another night when the echo of thunder awoke a hunger inside him. Was that when it all started, on the night of the festival? It feels so much longer. Lan Xichen touches his throbbing lips.Once he's able to tear his gaze away from Jiang Cheng's back, he hurries to join the others above the sea. Lightning strikes again, sending a tingling jolt through his body. He knows he should go straight to the island, but the sea has changed colour, going from a dark green to pitch black in a single moment. The water is churning, frothy and swelling upwards, and he can sense something lurking beneath it. He can see it coming closer, a pair of glowing mirrors growing larger as it rises up, coming closer—“Here it comes,” Wei Wuxian calls out, “Brace yourselves!” It's like a war-drum beating at his skull now, his heart lodged in his throat when the dragon finally breaches the surface. The points of its antlers are the first to emerge, and water pours and steam rises, and then he is frozen on the spot when two golden eyes lock with his. Lan Xichen isn't even aware of anything else, completely paralysed as he is by the intelligent gaze of this divine beast. Distantly he can hear a clamour of voices, the others conversing amongst themselves. Be quiet, he wants to say, but it's as if his mouth has been sealed shut. The dragon’s nostrils flare, its pupils shifting in and out of focus as it opens its mouth to taste the air. Lan Xichen is suddenly aware of teeth and claws and the sheer immense size of the creature. Apparently the others were talking about this, because when sound returns to him, they’re still discussing it.“How big is that?!” Jingyi exclaims, gesturing wildly to his friends. “The blind men and an elephant? That’s not the size of an elephant!” Then his eyes widen, “Unless that is the size of an elephant!? How big are ele—”“This is not the time, Jingyi!” Sizhui hisses. “Be quiet!” Wei Wuxian turns to Jiang Cheng, “That's even bigger than the Xuanwu.”Maybe he was also stunned until this point, because the mention of the Xuanwu has all the blood draining from Jiang Cheng’s face.Instantly he moves towards the juniors, and surprisingly enough Lan Wangji is right behind him. Wei Wuxian remains observing the dragon, his expression grim as he listens to them try to herd the children back to the shore. Lan Xichen is the only one who didn't face the Xuanwu back then, but his brother told him enough for him to have a rough idea of how terrifying it must have been.There are stories of dragons being able to shrink to the size of a silkworm or expand to fill the entire space between heaven and earth. It's hard to tell how big this one is compared to what the legends say, but they're definitely big enough to block the way to the island without any difficulty.It’s as if merely thinking about this is what provokes the beast into action. Lan Xichen rears back when the dragon lifts its head, letting out a stream of billowing smoke and vapour. The clouds crackle with lightning, bulging with impending rain. A spear of light shoots down which he barely manages to block with Shuoyue. Sparks fly everywhere from that clash, the resounding clang loud enough to rattle every bone in his body. Gasping for breath, it dawns on Lan Xichen that he was just struck by lightning!Something stirs inside him. There’s a dull roar scraping at his throat and the taste of iron in his mouth. His fingers quiver when he reaches in his sleeve to pull out Liebing. For the first time in his life, Lan Xichen struggles to recall any type of music. It’s as if the lightning has ignited his core, and now it's trying to claw its way out—“Why do you hesitate to meet me in battle, young master?” … Did anyone know that the dragon could speak?!Lan Xichen doesn’t even have a moment to collect his thoughts.“Are you that scared to face me?” Teeth clicking together, the dragon's amusement is evident as he watches Lan Xichen closely. “As the saying goes, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Should it not, therefore, be a fellow dragon who honours me in this long-awaited fight, or is my battle today to be fought against mice? That was your plan, wasn’t it?”An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth? Does the dragon bear some sort of grudge against them? Lan Xichen opens his mouth to ask this, but then Wei Wuxian whirls around to face his brother and gestures around angrily, “Mice? What fucking mice? Aren’t dragons meant to be friendly? What the fuck is this guy’s problem?”Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows, “Why the fuck are you asking me?” “I t-told you last night,” Jingyi stammers. Sneaking a few glances at the dragon, he looks both thrilled and completely terrified. “Th-This is the sea-lord that took Zhinü back to heaven… the one that her daughter sought revenge against... chasing after him for the rest of her life…”There is a mighty splash as the dragon surges upwards, causing Jingyi to squeak in fright and prompting Jiang Cheng to bark out an order that has the juniors flying backwards into a formation. Could the dragon’s grudge be against Lan Yu? After all these years?! Lan Xichen suddenly remembers what Sun Wu Kong said last night about dragons. Once they have committed to something, guess what? They don’t give up on it! Well, at least that explains some things. Lan Xichen looks over his shoulder and catches his brother's eye. Wangji nods in response. This grudge could be a weakness. Strike at what is weak. Their diversion-tactic might be ruined, but this could still be used to their advantage.“Stick to the plan,” Jiang Cheng says firmly. There’s no point trying to convince the children to go back now. Despite being frightened, they're also determined to fight. Wen Ning roars, taking a running jump to land on the dragon’s neck. Jiang Cheng cuts a glance towards Lan Xichen, “Better get moving then, Zewu-Jun.” Lan Xichen hesitates. Can he really leave them like this? It’s not that he's doubting Jiang Cheng’s competence in any way, but a situation like this is really difficult to turn away from. What if they need—“Lan Huan.” Jiang Cheng waits until he looks over. “I’ll join you later, now go!” At first, he leaves Shuoyue behind to help out and tries to fly ahead alone, but the Immortals were right.Even though he's fast, dodging all of the dragon's limbs requires his complete attention and all of his skill. Not even Wen Ning’s monstrous strength is enough to subdue the power of this god. The dragon’s hide is layered with scales as tough as steel, impervious to blades and spears. If they were worried about accidentally killing their opponent, those thoughts have totally disappeared.The sound of the’ swords clinking as they hit the dragon’s scales is like rain on a tiled roof, but each hit does nothing more than create a shower of sparks. When he senses Bichen approaching, Lan Xichen breathes a sigh of relief. The spiritual energy inside him feels like it might explode, like his ribcage might crack open under the strain. It’s as if his core—his divine core—is reacting to proximity with the dragon.Listening to the crystal chime of Bichen’s point glancing off and swerving around, he hears his brother's concern which evokes a rush of fondness and frustration. Be yourself, Lan Huan. Yes, very good, but how does one do that? Even if he knew how to call the wind and summon the rain[6], that would not change the expertise of a rival who will have gathered centuries more experience over him. Movement from the dragon’s tail sends him spinning sideways, skidding outwards further away from the island.A gust of wind and saltwater is deflected with a flick of his sleeve. Lan Xichen takes this opportunity to check on the others. It’s strange how the dragon has stayed at the shore instead of coming after him. Is he really that determined to mock Lan Xichen that he won't even give him some face? If he were to fly all the way out and around, would that force the dragon to chase him instead? That’s not the point, a voice in his head reminds him, sounding very much like his Wanyin. It's true that if the dragon is paying the others more attention that means their diversion has worked. But the more Lan Xichen watches them circling above the dragon's head, the more he gets the feeling they’ve missed something.“Enough of this!” Another flash of blinding light, thunder rolling afterwards.Blinking away the spots in his vision, Lan Xichen sees his brother raise his arm to signal the others to stop. It seems the dragon has grown tired of playing games and the change in mood fills the air with tension. Lan Xichen’s stomach clenches. He wants nothing more than to fly back. Even if he has nothing to offer as protection, the distance between them is far too great for comfort.The dragon chuffs at the air, expelling more clouds into the sky. “I smell the same blood here that stole from me once! The blood of a miscreant! A dishonourable thief!” This much resentment sends a shudder of revulsion down his spine. For a supposedly wise and benevolent being, whatever offence Lan Yu committed must be truly terrible. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, indeed. Lan Xichen once again sends Shuoyue onwards to the island to test a theory, but the dragon pays him no mind. That must mean he definitely cares more about this grudge than they thought!“Lord Dragon, are you talking about Hóuwáng?” Ouyang Zizhen pipes up, his voice astonishingly steady even as he pins the blame on the Monkey King! These children have really grown bold! They all know it can’t be him, but in the end, a diversion is a diversion, and the Monkey King certainly doesn't seem to mind!In fact, from the shore Sun Wu Kong lets out a loud cackle, tossing the rest of his jianbing into his mouth. “Young master, it definitely wasn’t me that time! You should know from the stories you’ve read that this Monkey King only fights opponents worth fighting! That means Dragon Kings, not just any old dragon, haha!”Silence again. Of all the things he could have said!Lan Xichen can only watch in utter dismay as the dragon thrashes in the sea, sending a cascade of water all the way to the Immortals. None of them seems to care much. As Sun Wu Kong continues to laugh himself hoarse, the resentment builds more and more until it’s difficult to breathe. The dragon snarls, “No, young master. It wasn’t this oaf I was talking about, but the progeny of the wandering cultivator, Lan Yu!”Lan Yu's progeny? Fear lodges itself in Lan Xichen's throat. Lan Yu’s descendant. Does that mean Wangji or Jingyi, or does that mean him? The youngest of them present would be Jingyi, the most prominent would be him, but then from what he can see… the dragon seems to be glaring straight at Wanyin!Sun Wu Kong chortles in delight. “I really can't believe you're still going on about that! Wherever she is, Lan Yu is probably laughing at you right now!”Apparently this is the last straw, not for the dragon, but for Jiang Cheng. Each word is shot directly at the Monkey King's smug face, “Get lost! Just what situation do you think we’re in? I swear, you have no idea how much I want to sew your lips together—”
“Son of Lan Yu!!”
“…”“I think he's talking to you,” Wei Wuxian points out helpfully. “Or at least he's looking at you.”Even at this distance, Lan Xichen can see Jiang Cheng shifting towards his nephew. But if he's reacting like this… if he's putting himself in between Jin Ling and the dragon, that can only mean—“Her name was Lan,” Jiang Cheng protests weakly, “Not Jiang.”“But she would have kept her name regardless of any marriage,” Wei Wuxian replies. “Jiang Cheng, is it true? Are you Lan Yu’s descendent?” After considering this, he slaps Jiang Cheng on the back, “Well then, I suppose this is really your fight, haha—”Jiang Cheng, “Does no one here understand the concept of shutting up?!” Neither Jiang Cheng nor Jin Ling appear surprised to discover they share blood with Lan Yu. They only seem worried about what that means for them, and one can’t blame them for that. With a dragon this eager to exact revenge, even observing this as an outsider would make a person quake in terror. Jiang Cheng lifts his chin to face the dragon, but his eyes flit across to Lan Xichen.His message is clear: keep going. “All of the cultivation sects will have intermarried at some point or other in history. Why does it matter to you that I am her descendent? What do you want from me? I don't even know you.” Jiang Cheng speaks as if he is scolding a child, “If Lan Yu stole something from you, tell me what it is and I'll reimburse you.”Even as he flies further towards the island, listening to this makes Lan Xichen want to laugh.Trust Jiang Cheng to be so matter-of-fact when facing a problem like this, discussing it more like a business transaction than an age-long blood feud! The dragon’s tail lashes sideways, his body rippling in agitation. Ah, so he isn't completely distracted then. Lan Xichen returns to the same dance as before whilst straining his ears to hear what else his husband has to say.The dragon gives his reply in a chilling sneer, “You couldn't reimburse me if you paid me all of your riches. Not in ten lifetimes could you return what she stole to me, nor could you ever repay me for what I have given to you! Your entire sect owes its existence to me! What a battle it was that caused your lands to flood and your lakes to prosper!” So what they say about dragons causing floods is true…? Lan Xichen’s attention is thrown back to Shuoyue, where it seems to have encountered a protective barrier. Stabbing at the air reveals a small dome shield hovering above the island. If he is to disarm it, he will need to get closer.“Why don't you tell me what that thing was and then we can decide if it’s redeemable in some other way?” Jiang Cheng swerves away when the dragon snaps its teeth at him. “Fuck! Hey, come on! Tell me, was it destroyed? Was it really that precious? Surely it can be replaced!”“You should know better than anyone what it feels like to have something destroyed that can never be restored!”What the— “The title of Core-Stealing Hand truly suits you, young master!” Core-Stealing Hand? Lan Xichen has no other choice but to check on his husband. How has this knowledge made its way to the dragon, and what type of accusation is this? How dare he say this? Jiang Cheng hasn’t stolen anything! The accusation has stopped him mid-flight, all of the blood rushing out of his face. Jiang Cheng licks his lips, “Do you mean to say that Lan Yu stole your core?” But the dragon has his core! He’s using it at this very moment! Lan Xichen opens his mouth, but the dragon lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. “No, what she took was worth far more than a measly core. She stole what I had spent centuries cultivating! It was my Pearl that she took and then crushed, and then ground down to be made into a weapon—the very same weapon that now sits on your hand, Sandu Shengshou!”Jiang Cheng recoils in shock. What sits on his hand… Zidian? The same weapon he's been using for years, handed down from his mother? He hasn’t used it yet, not wanting to expend too much energy when he might need it for later. How can Zidian be a Dragon's Pearl?At first, he wants to deny any possibility of this.Then he remembers a recurring dream he’s been having that kept coming again and again. Almost like a warning. Its quiet persistence allowed it to be ignored mostly. He really should have paid more attention to it. Immersed underwater, unable to see anything, there was movement above. A sword flying past. An enraged roar ripped through the water, and there was something glinting brightly in his (her?) hand— Meanwhile, Lan Xichen’s mind is also spinning. “Oh,” he mutters. "Oh, my word."A Pearl. A Dragon’s Pearl?! That which is a symbol of immortality and enlightenment—the legends say it is the culmination of the dragon’s divine power, without which he cannot ascend to heaven. Earlier he was wondering why the dragon hadn’t grown as large as to touch the heavens, and why he wasn’t flying, or utilising his full strength… it never occurred to him that the reason for this was because he literally couldn’t!“I've waited years hoping a child of Lan Yu would come to battle me, but centuries passed and you stuck to your lakes and rivers.”(Jin Ling gasps. Jiang Cheng shoves him further behind. The lullaby their mothers sang them. My waters are the lakes and rivers, not open to a wider sea. Another warning.)“So I waited and waited whilst your kin travelled the world freely, but… you know what? That doesn't matter anymore. You came. Better late than never. And now, young master, this is the part when I tell you that both of us cannot live under the same sky.[7]” Jiang Cheng smiles coldly. “Do you plan to kill me then?”“Well since it seems that you can’t kill me, what other option is there?” Another brittle laugh. “But no, that is not my intention. My orders are simply to stop you from reaching my master's shrine—” “Yeah, well good luck with that.”Instead of white, the sky turns bright violet as Zidian explodes to life. A streak of lightning, the crack of a whip. Zzzt!! The length of his whip comes sailing past, striking the dragon across his snout. Jiang Cheng leaps onto his head just long enough to use Zidian to strike him two more times on the nose and then he jumps away again. Lan Xichen looks up to find Jiang Cheng glaring down at him with eyes that flash like daggers. “Go!” he barks, but even as thunder shakes the whole world, for that split second he cannot move a single inch. Whether it’s the spiritual energy he has given him, or simply Jiang Cheng’s own power, the purple light from before has come to envelop him entirely—“Is that all you've got, young master?” the dragon sneers, even though his face is dripping with blood. “I’ve been told that Sandu Shengshou is a fearsome sight on the battlefield. Is this all he has to show for it? How disappointing.”“Fuck off!” Jiang Cheng snarls, spinning around to loose Zidian again. His eyes are pure white, spiritual energy pouring off him in waves. “Quite honestly, I was also expecting more from you, yet here we are!!” The dragon dodges another few blows, his body snaking around to avoid each hit.The others have started flying around again, but nothing seems able to break his focus from Jiang Cheng. Seeing this, Lan Xichen puts on another burst of speed and continues hacking at the shield with Shuoyue's power. Somehow, even without looking, he can see Jiang Cheng is pulling lightning down from the clouds in his mind’s eye. Each deafening thunderclap rings out in accompaniment. Despite this, he can still hear the dragon’s voice cutting through the storm. “Oh? A mortal who can summon dragonfire? Not bad.” (Crash!) “You really remind me of her, you know? There's so much rage in you, it's stifling!” (Zzzt!!) “Even the way you fight is similar! The resemblance is truly uncanny!”Jiang Cheng, “You’re so fucking annoying! Stop talking! I don't give a fuck what you have to say!” Lan Xichen flies the last stretch in a few seconds. The protective barrier solidifies the closer he comes into view. He floats at the edge, listening to the hum of energy.With Shuoyue returned to his hand, he presses the blade to the shield and is immediately flung backwards into a pile of rocks. The impact knocks the breath out of him. Luckily there are no broken bones, but he's left blinking stars out of his vision. Glancing backwards, he's a bit confused why the dragon still doesn’t seem intent on chasing him. This would be the perfect time to attack him.Could it be that his desire for vengeance is so great as to overrule a heavenly order? Whilst pondering this, he busies himself with studying the design of the barrier. It was made to protect against the elements and prevent entry from unwanted visitors. The spiritual energy here is ancient and extremely powerful. The spell itself is rather simple, but it will take time to dismantle.“I’ll admit you're good, but not good enough. Didn’t you promise to strike me down? Either you’re holding back or maybe you just don't have that power. Such big words, young master. Tear me apart, hunt me down? I'd like to see you try!”Lan Xichen is tempted to look, but he's so close to figuring it out. This barrier. Sailors built the goddess this shrine, and she blessed it. Mercy. The goddess of mercy. How would they even—“Don’t listen to him, Jiang Cheng! He's just messing with you! Focus! Calm your mind!” That was Wei Wuxian. What's happening? What are they doing? Lan Xichen bites through his lip. More blood on his tongue. Underneath the bitterness, he can still taste Jiang Cheng.“Even now, you need your shīxiōng to guide you. What can you do by yourself? Are you not a sect leader? Doesn't leadership require skill and competence? Ah, such big words, yet so little behind them—”
“SHUT UP!!”
Oh, that one was him. The thunder that follows drowns out any response, roaring so loud as to shake the ground and cause the wind to briefly change direction. Lan Xichen’s throat tingles from shouting, but it hurts less than his aching heart. Out of the corner of his eye, lightning casts a shadow in the clouds. From that movement, he can picture Jiang Cheng spinning around in his fluid running-style technique.“Wanyin,” he whispers. “Don’t listen to h—” “That's your husband, isn’t it? The esteemed Zewu-Jun, First Jade of Gusu! (“Shut up,” Lan Xichen mutters again.) He almost made it there, but then he kept checking on you. What can he do if you’re always making him worry? Half fate in cultivation, half fate in what—in you? Can he really depend on someone like you, young master?”Jiang Cheng says nothing. The crack of his whip echoes for miles and the purple sky fills with a dangerous white light.There’s no amount of words nor enough time to say anything that would make a difference to him. Convincing Jiang Cheng of his devotion will take a lifetime, but first, they need to ensure that they get that time together. Lan Xichen’s skull throbs as he refocuses his attention on the shield. Break it, somehow break it... unless you’re not meant to break it? What means would a stranded sailor have to do this? Ah, there's no time for this! If Shuoyue won't do it, maybe Lan Xichen will just have to use his fists then—Well, that worked. Falling to his knees on the rocky shore, he lets out a breathless laugh. Who would have thought brute force would work? Pushing himself up, Lan Xichen staggers to his feet and stumbles blindly to the shrine. It must be somewhere. There's hardly any room on the island as it is. Lan Xichen runs.Amongst all of these rocks, there must be an altar. A statue. There must be something—ah, there it is! There she is! The goddess of mercy carved into the stone. He waits for a few seconds, but when she doesn't appear, he quickly bows and then starts digging through his sleeve for incense. Several things happen at once.The sky goes dark. The world falls silent.And then the dragon starts laughing.Lan Xichen startles when Shuoyue suddenly shoots out of its scabbard. What the…? He didn’t send it out, but there it goes. It's flying so fast that he cannot track its movement. Staring blankly, there's something ringing in his ears. Panicked voices. The screams happen all at once.
“Catch him!”
His heart stops.
“Someone catch him!!”
He whirls around. There's something falling from the sky.
Jiang Cheng.
The water is ice-cold, but he cannot feel it. Plunging into the depths of the ocean, Lan Xichen can think of nothing else but finding him. There is no light to see anything, but with a quick thought, the radiance from his core shines dimly through the darkness. It’s enough to see a glint of gold. Squinting, he spots Jin Ling swimming ahead of him. The boy’s face is contorted in rage. Can he even see anything? Lan Xichen follows Shuoyue. It doesn't take long to catch sight of violet robes flickering like a flame. He dives down. Shuoyue is hooked in Jiang Cheng’s collar. As soon as he's close enough to reach him, he sees that the water around them is red. Jiang Cheng isn't moving. There's no time for panicking. Grabbing onto Shuoyue, they go flying upwards.Somehow they make it back to the island. The next thing he knows, he's on his knees and his teeth are chattering. He’s holding something warm and precious, he's clinging onto hope. Jiang Cheng's eyes are closed. He’s not moving. Lowering him to the ground, his head rolls sideways. Lan Xichen presses down on his chest, once, twice, not too hard or he'll break him. Come on. Pressing again and again. Listening. There’s nothing. No. Come on—Suddenly Jiang Cheng lurches upwards, spluttering and coughing blood everywhere. There’s so much of it. His eyes fly open. When he gasps, Lan Xichen pulls him closer. “Wanyin, it's fine. It's not that bad. It's fine. I'm here…” "W-What," Jiang Cheng blinks slowly, eyelids drooping. Everything is blurring at the edges. Still, he shoves at Lan Xichen. There's no force behind it. No strength at all. “What are you d-doing here?”Distantly, he’s aware of raised voices and something splashing into the sea, but Lan Xichen can’t pull his eyes away from his husband. Can’t understand what he's saying. What is he doing here? Is it not obvious? “What do you mean? I came after you—”“Why would you… are you s-stupid? Go!” Jiang Cheng tries pushing him away again, but his fingers tangle in his sleeve. Lan Xichen hates watching him struggle. “There’s no time... go—”“Now who's being stupid? I'm not going anywhere.” Pressing down on the wound, Lan Xichen’s hands are shaking. Summoning spiritual energy, he tries to stem the flow. There's so much blood, pouring between his fingers and spreading everywhere. There's so much. Too much. Why isn't it stopping? “Wanyin? Hey, no… no, no, look at me! Look at me, Wanyin!”“Lan Huan.” A small smile tugs at Jiang Cheng’s lips. His eyes have drifted shut. Every word is difficult. “I s’pose we’ll be remembered then... for this sh-shitty fight. Sometimes…” Jiang Cheng's face crumples in pain. "Sometimes we don’t get to choose. I’m sorry.”“Don’t be sorry. Focus on staying awake,” he pleads. He's slipping. He’s fading fast. A wound like this shouldn’t be enough to cause this to happen. They have survived far worse things in their lives. “I’m here. I've got you. Stay with me, please.”“’s it raining?” (No, it’s not raining. That’s not rain—) “Why’s it always rain… when I'm with you?” Jiang Cheng reaches for his hand, and that’s when it happens. Zidian wraps itself around Lan Xichen's finger. The metal is burning hot. Jiang Cheng's breath rattles. “Hold me?” “I am holding you.” That’s when Lan Xichen’s voice cracks and finally, he breaks into tears. He clutches him tighter, muffling his sobs against his shoulder. This can't be happening. “I am holding you. Jiang Cheng, please.”“Then why… can't f-feel it…”After a couple more breaths, Lan Xichen shakes him. Jiang Cheng's head falls to the side. His fingers slip from his robes. There is nothing. No heartbeat. Nothing. No, no, but he’s— But he's here. He's holding him. He’s…Lan Xichen holds his breath, waiting for something else. Waiting for him. He can’t accept it. How can this be? How could this have happened? He was breathing not moments ago. They were laughing together just this morning. This must be a mistake. Somewhere, he loses track of time.Then the sound of footsteps pulls him out of his numbness. Jin Ling rushes forwards, eyes jumping back and forth between both of them. Seeing his uncle lying completely motionless, he can't understand what’s wrong at first. Did he pass out? The battle is still ringing in his ears. The last few minutes of it were so intense. When the dragon lunged towards him—As he comes closer, his steps slow down. “Jiujiu?”The last thing he saw before his uncle fell into the sea was Zidian's lightning flickering out. He went after him of course, but in the end, all he could find in the water was Sandu. When he saw Zewu-Jun also racing to catch him, he was certain he would return to find him here, but he… he wasn’t expecting to find him like this.More footsteps. Lan Xichen turns to find Wei Wuxian and Wangji dragging a young man—a boy, really—between them. It's the same boy who impressed Jiang Cheng with his swimming, the same boy they borrowed the fishing boat from yesterday. As soon as Wei Wuxian sees them, he drops the boy’s arm and almost falls down himself. “Jiang Cheng?”Something about the way he says his name makes it impossible to look at him. A few moments later, Jin Ling lets out a bitter scream.Lan Xichen grits his teeth, trembling in all his unspoken grief and compressed rage. When Jin Ling arrived, he wiped his face dry, but now he lets his tears fall freely. He hasn't stopped pouring energy into Jiang Cheng's spiritual pathways, but it’s getting harder to control himself. No matter how much he tries, it just doesn’t take. The irony isn't lost on him. Wei Wuxian crawls over, grabbing Jiang Cheng's hand to try for himself. Desperately, Ouyang Zizhen turns to the Immortals, “Can't you do something?”Sun Wu Kong’s mouth is a thin line, but he seems reluctant to shake his head. “We cannot interfere. Those are the rules.” The other Immortals look onwards with tired eyes, as if they have seen this many times before. The Monkey King lowers his gaze, “I’m sorry, but I can't—”“You can’t? Since when have you ever followed the rules?” Jingyi exclaims. “Aren't you also the King of Hell? Bring him back then! What good is that title if you don’t use it, Hóuwáng? Don’t apologise if something can be done!”Lan Xichen lets out a shaky breath. What can be done? It's right as he's thinking this that Sizhui drops to his knees, lights incense to place on the ground and claps his hands together. Wei Wuxian lets out a sob but claps his hands together as well. His stomach flips. That’s right. Now that they’re on the goddess’ island, maybe she can—“That won't do anything. Pray as much as you want. Wait for all eternity. She will not come.” That glimmer of hope is smothered instantly.Even Sun Wu Kong looks shocked. “Where else could she be summoned to except here?” The boy—the dragon—is snatched up roughly by Wen Ning, dragged away from Wangji, and thrown onto the ground. “What do you mean ‘she will not come’?” The fierce corpse grabs him by the throat, “What does that mean?” He presses his lips together, shaking his head. When he sniffles, Lan Xichen doesn’t know why to think. From his downcast eyes, one might actually think he was ashamed. The tears rolling down his cheeks prove too much for Jin Ling. “What the fuck are you crying for?!”“This was never meant to happen,” the boy stammers. “I… I just wanted to go home, but without my Pearl, I c-can’t! Even now, it won't recognise me as its master. Tiān Gōng told me that if I kept you away from the island he would allow me to go home, b-but… then I just got so angry when I saw the young master. I didn't mean to do it—” “Didn't mean to kill him, you mean?” Jin Ling demands sharply, causing the boy to flinch. “Didn't mean to kill my uncle? If that's so, what the fuck was that then? What else do you call what you just did?!” “But I didn’t kill him. I—”Jin Ling punches him to the ground. “I should kill you!! I wish you would die!!”The boy covers his face. “I’m s-sorry, I… I just wanted to go home!” Lan Xichen cannot bear to watch this any longer. “Enough.” The wind might be stirring the clouds and blowing salt into the air, but all he can taste is his own tears and all he can smell is blood. Under his calm and composure, there is a howling beast who would like nothing more than to tear this boy limb from limb. Even then, somehow he feels a shred of pity. Listening to him, he can tell that he’s telling the truth, and he knows what it’s like to want nothing more than to go back home, but what he's done…“Tell me,” he calls out, “What is your name?” When the boy shakes his head again, sobbing too hard to speak coherently, he sighs loudly. Even his patience has a limit, and it’s close to running out. “At the very least, tell me what you mean when you say that you didn’t kill my husband.”Instead of the boy answering, the Immortal Zhongli Quan replies, “There’s a possibility that he might not be dead.”Not dead? Lan Xichen's hand tightens on Jiang Cheng's unyielding flesh. His muscles have already gone stiff, his body has gone cold all the way to his core. Years of night-hunting means he knows a corpse when he sees one. More than anything, he would hate to hold onto false hope. “Explain.”“The young master’s weapon, Zidian, was formed from not any Dragon’s Pearl, but from this dragon specifically,” he explains, “Which means that the properties of Zidian are derived from its original master. Consider what it means then, to be struck down by this dragon. The ability to separate a person's soul from their physical form is what makes Zidian famous.”Wei Wuxian, “But that’s only if the body has been possessed by a spirit.” “That particular trait is a result of centuries of careful cultivation. The work of countless Zidian masters training that skill has allowed the weapon to learn how to recognise those who have been possessed by malicious spirits. Anyway, that's not the point…”The point is that Jiang Cheng might not be dead, but what does it mean that his soul has been separated from his body? He remembers how his core dimmed, and how quickly spiritual energy seeped out of his body. It happened so fast. Lan Xichen stares down at Zidian sitting on his finger. Why did that happen? What does that mean?“It's unlikely that you’ll find a cure for him on this mortal earth,” Lao Li says, meeting Lan Xichen’s tear-filled gaze with determination. “If a divine power has taken his soul, perhaps a divine power must be used to return it. Either that or some other divine solution must be found.” Jin Ling seems to have forgotten the boy is in fact, a dragon god, and kicks him without hesitation, “What are you waiting for then?!”“No cure on this mortal earth…”Immediately, he understands what it is that Lao Li is suggesting. A divine solution? One last thing, he told him. I must warn you against climbing any mountain other than your own. Nor should you entertain the idea of heaven at any point. Nor risk meditation for the time being. Any of these actions might be taken as consent. “So that's what I must do then? Is that where I must go?”Lao Li shrugs. “That's entirely up to you.”“Was it always going to come to this?” he wonders. He shouldn't be able to laugh, but somehow he can't help himself. Jiang Cheng threw himself into the net first, and now it's his time to do the same thing. In this sense, they really are well-matched. “I suppose there's no other choice, is there? If it's the only way, then I must go up to heaven.”“Brother.”“Would you not do the same for him?” Lan Xichen demands. Wei Wuxian has run out of his spiritual energy already, yet he continues to cling to his brother’s hand and chant mantras under his breath. Staring up into his brother's glassy eyes, he can see every passing worry flitting across his mind. “Please,” he says, “You know why I must do this.” But then the gods will detain you, won’t they? If you go up to heaven, will they allow you to come back? What's the point of us doing all of this if you leave? He must find his answer in Lan Xichen’s silence because his lips quiver and hands curl into fists. “Brother, you will be separated forever.” If he goes to heaven, there will be no more tomorrows. No more plans. Lan Xichen’s hands tremble. “I know.”After a few seconds, Wangji drops his gaze. “Mm.”“You do realise that that isn’t the only option we have left,” Wei Wuxian says, forcing out a chuckle when Lan Xichen presses his lips together. “I know it's not ideal, but there are other ways of bringing him back. You don’t have to do this.”“He wouldn't want that, no offence to Young Master Wen.” Turning back to his brother-in-law, “He would never forgive you if you were to do that to him.”“Well, the same goes for you. He won't exactly thank you for this, you know? He might even end up hating you, and he will almost certainly blame himself forever. Listen Xichen-gē,” he says quietly, “Are you sure about this? Looking on this now, doesn't it feel like another trap?”Lan Xichen studies him closely. “Do you ever regret what you did for him?”Wei Wuxian bites his lip. “It probably makes me a terrible person, but I don’t. The only thing I regret is how much it hurt both of us in the end. I shouldn't have made that choice on his behalf, but given the chance, I know that I would do it again…” “And so would he,” Lan Xichen says with absolute certainty. “He regretted many things, Wei Wuxian, but saving you wasn't one of them. He missed you more than anything.”“Yes, I realise that now,” he laughs with tears dripping over his smiling cheeks. “I realise that now, and I... I hope you also realise how much he'll miss you too. At first, he might be angry for a very long time, but then he’ll build you the most beautiful temple, and then… then he will spend the rest of his days there missing you.” After a long pause, he whispers, “I know.” That dream of Jiang Cheng sitting alone on a cliffside returns to him. He can see it now. How he will spend his days marching onwards, full of vengeful anger to all those who cannot see suffering. The temple will be perfectly maintained. At night he will sit there by himself and sing up to the moon, and… Jiang Cheng has already spent so much of his life mourning others. It shouldn't have to be this way.He deserves to live for himself, and to be happy, and to love and be loved. He deserves adventures and a home.Wei Wuxian coughs, wiping his face dry before giving him a chilling smile. “Zewu-Jun, please make sure to send my regards to the Emperor.”Lan Xichen returns his smile woodenly and then stands with Jiang Cheng in his arms. After asking which direction the celestial mountain they came from is, he agrees to meet with them there and sets off without another word. It wasn't his imagination. The air has gone cold, but the more he looks around, the more he wonders if it’s his doing.Trapped inside him is a never-ending winter. Frost creeping over a lake, sunlight with no warmth. His golden core feels hollow, and when he leaps into the sky he takes no joy in flying. The snowy peak of the mountain slowly comes into view. Lan Xichen curls himself around Jiang Cheng to shield him from the elements as he squints to see through the sudden snowstorm.
(If we should fail and you must go to Heaven, a godly position can’t be that bad, right?)
If he's being completely honest, it’s probably going to be really terrible. He's preparing himself for that though. Somehow, he will cope.
(You’ll be alright there, won’t you?)
Glancing down at Jiang Cheng’s face, his composure shatters for a moment. The stern set of his mouth softens, and in his mind, he remembers—
(Tell me you’ll be alright. No matter what happens, I need you to promise me.)
Below them, something moves along the scenery. A long, dark shadow rippling serpentine, like ink spilt across a scroll. Every time he looks down at Jiang Cheng, his hands are the same as always, but the clouds surrounding them cast shadows, suggesting a much larger form—
Be yourself, Lan Huan.
That’s when the last of his control starts to slip. The beast inside him roars out loud, snapping its jaws in triumph. It has been gnawing at its own leg, wanting to break free for far too long. Lan Xichen climbs higher and higher up into the sky.
Don’t be afraid.
“Oh my love, I’m not afraid," he laughs, bending to kiss Jiang Cheng's forehead.With him by his side, what reason is there to fear?"They're the ones who should be afraid.”
They arrive in a burst of lightning. The moment he lands in the clouded realm, Lan Xichen pulls out his sword and disarms two guards with one movement. He cleaves through at least a dozen heavenly officials without pause, following the route he was shown the last time to make it to the palace. Whether he was expecting him or not, the Emperor merely lifts his head and remains seated when Lan Xichen strides up to the throne. He doesn't bother mincing his words, “If he is dead, that means it's over. There’s no need—”“There is every need,” Lan Xichen levels Shuoyue at the old man's throat, “For you to fix this right now, or tell me how to fix it myself, or else face the consequences. Your Majesty, I'm giving you three options. That's two more than you ever gave me.” The last time he came here he stayed on his knees, not daring to raise his head nor meet anyone's eyes. The Emperor looks about the same age as shūfu, though admittedly with a much more impressive beard. Each of his court advisors have their own swords pointed at Lan Xichen, but he doesn’t spare them a single glance.“What would you have me do?” the Emperor asks in a dull tone. “Death is marked from the beginning. If he has died then it is the turning of the tides. It is the sun rising in the east. It is a picked flower withering in the heat. It is inevitable. Why can't you accept that? Protecting one's loved ones is as noble a death as any man could ask for—”Lan Xichen strikes swiftly.There is a cry of alarm. Why all the commotion? It's only a small trickle of blood. That was only a warning.The slightest pressure has more blood gushing out. Where Shuoyue was steady, now Lan Xichen is restless. The temptation to press just a little bit harder is almost too great. He has never enjoyed killing, but suddenly he has never wanted to spill blood so badly in all his life.“Don't do something you’ll come to regret,” a familiar voice warns. “Taking his life won't do anything except to bring you more problems. Remember, you came here for something. Don’t leave without it.” Lan Xichen's shuddering breaths cause the temperature to drop by several degrees. Leaning back a fraction, he turns to Zhinü, but she is staring at the person in his arms instead. When she finally looks up at him, he cannot tell what she is thinking. All he can hear is her steady voice reading the poem. So this is your reason? How beautiful. All he can see is his lonely future reflected in her eyes.“What would you have me do?” the Emperor repeats. “Young Master Jiang made his decision when he chose to protect his nephew. Even if it was only for a breath of time, he knew what the cost would be to himself, and yet he accepted it. You claimed that he was your fated person, but now that he is gone from this world—”“Even if death separates us and our paths are to diverge, he still is my fated person and always will be.” I have never been so certain. Here is where Lan Xichen's eyes redden, his nose prickling with tears. “Where has his soul been taken? That's all I want to know. Where is he? Tell me, and I will consent to become Guanyin’s disciple to serve her in Ninth Heaven.”“Lan Huan,” Zhinü says sharply. “What are you saying? Don't—” The Emperor taps his finger on the desk. “There is some time left until your trial. Why would you submit yourself before then?”“Your Majesty, I understood that by coming here I was risking myself, and yet I still came.” Lan Xichen really cannot look at Zhinü at all, especially when he goes on to say, “In exchange for my freedom, I ask that you return his soul. That’s all I want. Let him live, and I will forfeit the wager.”After a long silence, the Emperor replies, “Even if I were to accept your proposal, wherever his soul now resides is not within my domain. My rule is in heaven, and you won't find him anywhere else in this realm, except for where he lies in your arms. I cannot help you—”Lan Xichen laughs coldly, “Not within your domain? How can that be? I refuse to accept this. Who would believe your pitiful excuses—”Zhinü tugs on his arm, “That's enough.” But it isn't enough. It isn't anything.How can he return to the others with nothing? How can he live with himself when Jiang Cheng's soul is lost?The end of the month is fast approaching, and soon Guanyin will decide his fate. Will he have the time to try searching for other solutions before then, or was this his one and only chance? Lan Xichen's grip tightens on Shuoyue's hilt. There's no room to move in any direction. Despite him holding his blade to the Emperor’s throat, it's abundantly clear who has the upper hand here.He has failed.That's when a council member says, “Young master, the matter has been sorted. Please put down your weapon.”Lan Xichen can't breathe.How could he have failed?Suddenly the floor shakes, and then deep cracks start spreading across the room. A layer of frost climbs up the walls, shattering stone into dust and cloud.Lan Xichen can feel his control slipping. Resentment. Killing intent. Something dark surges inside him. There is the whisper of swords glancing across him, but nothing can break the contact between Shuoyue and the Emperor. The palace guards dance around him but he is untouchable. He is the eye of the storm.A blur of white matches his speed, and suddenly the room swirls back into view.Around him, the guards and council members lie about in various states of disarray. Apparently whilst he was fighting everyone, Zhinü took up her own sword to stand in his place. This time none of his followers dare to say anything to either of them. Lan Xichen gasps for breath and finally lowers his sword. Before, he wasn't sure if Zhinü would stand between him and her father or not, but now it seems that she's taken his side. With her guarding his back, he takes the opportunity to just… hold Jiang Cheng and try to breathe. Calm down. Focus on his senses.The pounding of his heart flutters against stillness. Zidian is warm, and Jiang Cheng is cold. The more he thinks about this, the worse it becomes. With his heart in tatters, the scent of Jiang Cheng's hair is what undoes him completely. Though this failure is burning him from the inside out, coming to terms with his loss is suffocating in its vast coldness.“I don't understand.” Nothing makes sense. Not even the simplest love. “What did I do to deserve this? Does tormenting me give you that much pleasure? What lesson do you expect me to learn when all I know is resentment? Already I feel like this heart of mine will not only rot by itself but poison everything that it touches. Are you prepared for that?”For all his life he's been told he should be fair and compassionate, and he has tried his best to be as far as he was able. He was also told that the powers of the gods were meant for blessing the good and punishing the wicked, but this grief clouds all his judgement, and now the whole world has become wicked in his eyes.“Time will heal you,” the Emperor says, returning to his desk. “From your sorrow, you will rise anew, and you will be better for it. Young master, let me tell you a secret. There are more gods due to ascend in your generation than there have ever been. Amongst them are your brother and his spouse. They might even join you in time. Is that not good? With them by your side, is that not enough?”Lan Xichen nods slowly, “What about Jiang Cheng?”He does not receive an answer, not that he was expecting one.“You can't even say his name.”They're cowards. Standing in front of all these eyes, perhaps he should be embarrassed to be crying so openly, but in the end, he doesn't care. Washing blood off Jiang Cheng's cheek with his own tears, he can’t stop thinking that this is wrong. This isn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't meant to happen. I should have been there. I should have been there. I should have protected you. “Why would you want someone like me to be a god? If there was ever anything good about me, now it's gone. The moment you killed him, it was gone.” Do they understand? Do they even care? Zhinü is standing completely still beside him. Maybe she is listening. Maybe she cares. “It’s not enough," he says. "It will never be enough. Without him I am nothing. I will never love again. I will never… you have ruined me—” Zhinü nudges him, “Are you done?”He will never be done, and they will never understand.Lan Xichen closes his eyes briefly. Opening them, he nods. “Let's go.”She cannot leave heaven with him, of course, but she escorts him out of the palace. Her familiar presence is a comfort. He would have appreciated it more if he had the capacity to, but thankfully her company is like WangJi’s, unquestioning and easy in its silence. If Zhinü blames him for losing her the wager, she says nothing of it. It's then that Lan Xichen realises that he still doesn’t even know what the wager is.When they're alone, the first thing Zhinü says is, “I'm glad he rejected your proposal. That was the stupidest thing you could have done. Give up your freedom, and to what end?”Lan Xichen blinks. “But... I thought you of all people would understand. He's my husband. He shouldn't have died. I would give anything to bring him back—”Zhinü gives him a bitter smile. “Lan Huan, I can understand the temptation to give up your life to save him, but haven’t you learnt by now? Self-sacrifice doesn’t mean much to the ones who care about you. Never cut out your own heart to save a loved one, for later you will discover that you have cut out theirs instead.”As she leads him past the pond, Lan Xichen can't resist glancing over, but it’s as he's gazing at the water that he belatedly remembers... Zhinü was brought here against her will. Her sacrifice was her freedom, for her children and husband's sake. She believed in the blessing wholeheartedly, and then her husband killed himself in his grief, and all she had left was the blessing.
I hope you also realise how much he'll miss you. He will spend the rest of his days missing you.
“You spoke for a long time,” she says at last. “And I cannot begrudge you for that, but perhaps that time would have been better spent searching the realm where his soul is wandering.” At first, he cannot understand what she's saying. “You know where he is?”Instead of answering, Zhinü brings them to a stop and turns around to face him. Throughout this, she has shown him a fiercer, harsher side to herself, but now when Lan Xichen allows her to touch Jiang Cheng’s face, her hands shake uncontrollably. Gently, she strokes a finger along his cheek, and her eyes soften. “You really love him, don't you?”Lan Xichen cannot say how much he loves him. He has only begun to love him. There is so much more. “How do I bring him back?” he asks instead. “Where can I find him?”“It's not up to you to bring him back, and finding him depends on whether he wants to be found. First, you must take back his body. Then you must see what happens next. Always keep your wits about you. This isn't over yet.” These slips of advice come one after the other, but then, out of nowhere, she asks, “That poem he wrote for you, do you still have it?"The poem? Lan Xichen cannot follow her logic, but he obediently reaches into his robes… only to remember now that he dived into the water to get to Jiang Cheng. You’re going to regret carrying it around like that. What will you do if it gets ruined? Cry? “No,” he whispers, tears spilling down his cheeks. “No, no, no...”Even though it would be sad if it gets ruined, even then I will know every word by heart. He was right. He does know it by heart, but it's not the same. It’s not—“It’s not important.” Zhinü patiently wipes his face with her sleeve. “Neither the paper nor the ink matters. What matters is what he has spoken to your heart, which can neither be lost nor destroyed. Jiang Cheng is a man of his word, more than anything. He would not write nor speak a single word unless he completely believed it, and he has always believed in you.”
She spoke as if she really knew him, and in a way, maybe she did.
“I just want him back,” he says quietly, hugging Jiang Cheng tighter to his chest. “I would do anything.”
“Then go,” she says. “Go now and find him. Bring him home, Lan Huan.”
Walking down the mountain, the snowdrift burns in his eyes. Go now and find him. But find him where? Lan Xichen feels like an arrow at the end of its flight. He is so tired, even though they walk above the snow instead of trudging through it. It’s bitterly cold. Through the numbness, exhaustion, and heartache, he clings onto Jiang Cheng’s body as if to conserve warmth. Listening carefully, he's already vaguely aware of where his brother is waiting.Sure enough, the others are not that far ahead.Lan Xichen pauses.He has failed. Remembering this brings such a wave of shame that roots him to the spot. Although Zhinü's words were comforting, ultimately she told him nothing except to hope. He still hasn’t figured out what to do, nor how to tell Wei Wuxian that they have nothing. Even more devastating is the thought of telling Jin Ling that his uncle’s soul is wandering somewhere and lost. Snowflakes catch in his eyelashes and drift to rest atop Jiang Cheng’s hair. It doesn't melt. You’re covered in snow. Hold still. There’s still some left— Blinking rapidly, Lan Xichen is about to continue walking, when he spots an approaching figure. Going by their shape, he cannot tell whether it's Wangji, or Wei Wuxian, or Wen Ning. He calls out each of their names, but none of them answers him. When he reaches the place where they were standing previously… there's no one there.Strange.Perhaps he imagined it.Lan Xichen walks a few steps, and then he sees them there again. He can even hear a voice, too muffled through the snow to tell what they are saying. Could something be following him? An animal? A corpse, perhaps? He falters again, casting out his senses and waiting. Something is definitely out there, watching him.Then something grabs his arm. Lan Xichen spins around, ready with Shuoyue.His eyes widen.“No… you? But it can’t be—”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
— Lord Byron
It must be nighttime by now, but they can’t see the sky. The snow is so thick, so impenetrable, that it’s difficult to breathe and they can’t look more than a couple of metres ahead. It’s been hours of waiting. Listening carefully for any sign of their return. Every attempt to push back or dispel this unnatural storm has failed. And so they wait in the brittle silence, shivering in the dark. Glancing around, Wei Wuxian sighs heavily.“Jin Ling, please… put down the sword. Come over here. You must be cold.”Jin Ling shakes his head. Unlike the other children, who are huddled off to one side, he remains alone and far away from everyone. He hasn’t spoken a word since they came to the mountain, nor has he put down his uncle’s sword for a single moment. Jin Ling sits with Sandu in his arms, hugging it to his chest along with Suihua, his tears frozen on his face.The last time he cried like this, no… he's never cried like this before. Of that, he's certain. Every other time he’s ever cried, his uncle was always there within reach. Where is he now? (A-Ling!) Jin Ling closes his eyes, bowing his head in shame. (What happened to you? Who did this to you?) What happened was he made a mistake. He did this to them. This is all his fault. Nothing can convince him otherwise.Back at the coast, the dragon surrendered without complaint, and the Immortals agreed to take him under their watch. His easy compliance would have been suspicious if it weren’t for the fact that he looked genuinely devastated. As far as Jin Ling is concerned, it doesn’t matter how much he might regret his actions. The damage has already been done. After a moment, Wei Wuxian turns his attention from trying to comfort his nephew back to surveying their surroundings. They may have lost visibility due to the storm, but this mountain was the last place where they saw Lan Xichen with Jiang Cheng. In a flash of white-silver, they saw them flying away. Then there was a bright light and a long white tail disappearing into the clouds. The air swelled with ice, the sky filled with clouds, and afterwards, the whole mountain shook.If Lan Xichen has succeeded in his task, only one of them will be returning home. With that thought, he finds himself remembering another time when he led his brother up a mountain and left him there, promising he’d be healed. The memory of a young, blindfolded Jiang Cheng haunts him to this day. He was so trusting when he sent him off, stumbling away up the slope, and then spending however long searching for him around the foot of the mountain.That has Lan Xichen’s words echoing in his head.
(He regretted many things, Wei Wuxian, but saving you wasn’t one of them. He missed you more than anything.)
It’s been hours. That might not hold a candle to thirteen years of waiting, but… what’s happening up there? What’s taking so long? Why is it so quiet?Beside him, Lan Wangji is just as tense with worry. Wei Wuxian watches Wen Ning move to stand behind the juniors, shielding them from the bitterly cold wind. Jingyi presses his face to Sizhui’s shoulder, and Ouyang curls his arms around both of them. He looks at Jin Ling again and his chest aches. It’s then that he hears the scrape of metal.The sound of a sword being drawn.Wei Wuxian staggers to his feet, grabs Lan Wangji’s sleeve to pull him along, and motions at Wen Ning to keep the others back. The snow muffles the conversation, but it must be… some sort of argument. A fight, perhaps? There are voices raised in tension. No clashing of swords. (Yet?) The cloth goes slack between his fingertips and then slides out of his grip as Lan Wangji suddenly goes marching ahead.When the voices become clearer, for a moment Wei Wuxian can’t believe what he’s hearing. One of them is definitely Lan Xichen, his low voice oddly breathless and tinged with panic, but it’s the other person’s words which stop him in his tracks. “Young master, have you seen them? I’ve been waiting for so long, but they haven’t come back. They’re just children—”Wei Wuxian blurts out, “What are you doing here?” Lan Xichen pauses, lifting his eyes right as the wind abruptly cuts off. The snow stops too, just like that. The old woman spins around, her eyes wide and chin trembling. What is she doing here? For her to return now, of all times, this has to be more than just a mere coincidence.“Do you know her?” Lan Xichen asks evenly, and it’s then that Wei Wuxian realises he’s still carrying Jiang Cheng in his arms. There’s blood smeared on his robes and splattered over his hands. He is as pale as the snow itself, shimmering brightly even as his golden eyes remain red-rimmed and dull. Lan Wangji flicks a glance between the two of them before turning to the woman. “Baoshan Sanren, what business brings you here?”The mention of her name causes her misty eyes to become clear, but before she can say anything, Lan Xichen speaks first. “That isn’t Baoshan Sanren.” Wei Wuxian cannot move his gaze away from his shīdì, but forces himself to choke back his grief in order to explain, “Xichen-gē, this is the woman we told you about. The one we met on our travels.”“This is also the woman whose likeness I saw on the island,” Lan Xichen insists. “Did you not see her statue there at the shrine?” It takes a few seconds to process what he’s saying. Thinking it over, it still doesn’t make any sense. Her likeness there at the… the shrine? “What shrine?”Lan Xichen’s eyes sweep over him, and then he gives a short, mirthless laugh. “Do you mean to say that I was the only one who saw her? I suppose that would make sense if she is truly the one who favours me. Isn’t that right, Master?”Wait a minute. The island. The shrine. Master?In that very moment of realisation, the woman they thought was Baoshan Sanren transforms in a swirl of robes, her body filling with divine light and she rises off the ground. Wei Wuxian drops to the ground, a hand dragging him down to kneel beside his husband.
(If Guanyin truly favours him, she will most likely answer to him.)
Holy shit. “You weren’t there.” Lan Xichen’s tone is chilling, his sorrow cutting to the bone, colder and swifter than the finest blade. “We prayed to you. I prayed to you. You didn’t come. Where were you?”Guanyin lifts her head. “It’s been a long time since we last met.”“Don’t you dare speak to me as a friend.” Lan Xichen’s voice shakes the ground, which has frozen completely. Wei Wuxian glances up and he sees that Lan Xichen's core is glowing and he has Shuoyue pointed at her throat. Holy shit. “Tell me, where were you? Why didn’t you come?”This is not how a disciple should ever speak to their master, but Guanyin takes no offence to this treatment. She even lowers her eyes in shame. “Even if you prayed to me, I wouldn’t have heard you—”“Goddess of Compassion,” he says coldly. “Goddess of Mercy, where were you?”Lan Wangji shifts on his knees. But there was a curse. A spell. The dragon boy's words ring in his ears, his forlorn expression finally making sense. (That won’t do anything. Pray as much as you want. Wait for all eternity. She will not come.) Was that why she couldn’t answer them? From what they know of Guanyin and what they’ve learnt about Baoshan Sanren… it all fits. Consider that Guanshiyin, ‘The One Who Hears the Cries of the World’, is commonly seen with three famous disciples by her side: the boy Shancai, the girl Longnü, and the infant Hui… Hui An.[1] As the mother-goddess and patron of mariners, she would often be depicted standing atop a dragon swimming in the sea.When they were at the other mountain and he asked Baoshan Sanren ‘what have you seen?’, that was what triggered her to relapse and the spell to take over again. She’d been searching for her disciples for centuries, each of whom left the mountain never to return… but in what order did all of these things happen?The answer comes in a flurry of snow.She first heard a commotion in the Heavens. The Heavenly Daughter is missing! Guanyin saw her dear friend fall to Earth and find true love and happiness with a mortal… with her very own disciple, in fact, who had gone to explore the world for himself. It was startling, to say the least, seeing them together. Realising that they were in love. The clamour continued, the search prevailed. She went to Heaven to plead on their behalf. Let them love. Leave them be. They would not listen.Then there was a deafening cry—two lovers separated, splitting apart the Heavens. When she returned to the mountain, her two remaining disciples were in tears. She was told that their eldest shīxiōng, who had left many years ago (even before Lan An), wrote to them that he had been sent to retrieve Zhinü. After completing his task, he was hunted down by Lan Yu in revenge, and they fought, and his Dragon Pearl was taken. He could never return home.She wanted to go find him, but with her eldest disciples gone… she was afraid, so she cautioned her last two students against leaving the mountain. Perhaps it was her speaking against the Emperor that caused this. Perhaps this was their punishment. Lan An’s crime to be shared. Despite her warnings, another of her disciples left the mountain. The news came shortly after that she had died along with her husband. They were cursed. They must be cursed.She closed them off for a long time: her and her last disciple, secluded. Then, she heard a cry that moved her heart. What was so special about this child? Why did his sorrow call to her so deeply? She couldn’t explain it. Although she was limited with her powers diminished, she begged her last disciple to wait for her return. Please.Then she left the mountain and followed his cries to a mountain shrine—“A mountain shrine,” Lan Xichen murmurs, his thoughts swirling with the snow. “You were there.”Guanyin smiles faintly. “Do you remember me now?”“There was a man.” The memory shifts something into place, and suddenly he understands. The man he saw at the foot of the statue. The pilgrim. (Was that boy alright? He seemed upset.) “That was you?”Of course that was Guanyin, who could take the form of any type of god—male or female—in whatever way was required to relieve suffering.[2] Lan Xichen pulls Jiang Cheng closer to his chest and looks down at him, and… remembers holding him as a child, his cheeks flushed in anger, his tears soaking his robes, his heartache a part of his own. “You heard him.”
(Please forgive me. It’s all my fault. There’s no way to stop it. He’s chosen you now.)
All this time he thought the man Zhinü was referring to was the Emperor, but whether a god or goddess, it wasn’t Yù Huáng—it was always Guanyin. And the person who they chose, the one both she and Zhinü favoured…Lan Xichen’s heart sinks, suddenly filled with fear. “It wasn’t me.”
(She favours you and has been watching you for the better part of your life. The Emperor even wishes for you to become a disciple in her court.)
“It wasn’t me,” he repeats, meeting her glassy eyes and clutching his husband tightly. “It was never me. You heard him, and you came for him, and the gods were watching us. They misunderstood. They thought you chose me to be your disciple.” It also occurs to him, Zhinü let them believe this. “Why?”“That’s what Tiān Gōng told others, but that wasn’t what happened. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but a wager was being made between him and his daughter. She was to choose a champion to break the curse. The champion would be one of her descendants, so indeed—when I met you on Earth, everyone was already paying close attention.”At this, Lan Xichen lets out a small sound. Realising that they’d been watched, even during such a seemingly unremarkable encounter… he pulls his sleeve further over Jiang Cheng, feeling horribly exposed. “What is the wager?”“If you can defy what fate has decided for you, write your own destiny and have it not end in tragedy, then the wager is won.” Guanyin shrugs. “In the end, it was very much a coincidence that they thought you were the champion. You were already known from your visits to Heaven, you were her descendant, and you were exactly the type of child they thought she would choose.”“Of course.” Lan Xichen shakes his head, laughing bitterly. This is insane. This… how could this have happened? Even thinking this, he knows exactly how it happened. In the end, the gods were no different from everyone else who saw Jiang Cheng and thought him undeserving of praise or respect. They didn’t understand his character. All they saw in him was grief and rage and nothing else.How many times was he going to have to hear these words spoken against his beloved? They thought him unworthy just because he doesn’t share the characteristics one might prescribe to a god, but kindness isn’t always being gentle. Bravery isn’t always being bold. The list went on and on. Jiang Cheng wasn't perfect, but he always tried his best. If they couldn't understand that, that merely proved their prejudice.Lan Xichen wanted to laugh again because if they truly favoured him for his supposed goodness, they should know that he was rebuilt from Jiang Cheng’s words. He is far more himself now than he ever was, and he owes Jiang Cheng, not just for saving his life, but also for all the ways he showed him how to live again. The thought of this has him clenching his teeth. They wouldn’t know, nor would they care to know.“By the time I went to give my annual report in Heaven, they were certain it was you. Nothing I said could change their minds. With them asking about you so much, the Emperor was watching me very closely. The thing is,” Guanyin’s gaze slides across from Jiang Cheng to him. “Zhinü never named her champion, and I never chose anyone to become my disciple. However, when I met you, I did see something…”“Something?”“Something in you, yes.”Something—in his heart, his lungs, in his soul itself—seems to tremble within, as if recognising itself. A glimmer of consciousness. Like with the dragonflies, the dawn of this understanding drifts like waves across the ocean, beating a gentle rhythm against his chest. With this, he realises his eyes are hot and stinging. “What did you see?”This echoes what Lan Wangji asked her before. (What have you seen?) Guanyin does not retreat into herself this time, though her expression shutters. “I cannot tell you. It would risk everything.” Her mouth twists ruefully. “After that, I cannot remember what happened next.”“The spell took effect,” Lan Wangji suggests, and she hums in agreement.Lan Xichen breathes through a wave of anger. What else is being hidden from them? At this point, how can such things be kept secret? If he wanted to, he could simply delve deeper into her mind and take the answers for himself, as he’s been doing this whole time, but—it’s then that he remembers what Zhinü said. (I cannot say any more about this. That is unfortunately the problem. It is thought that once a person knows their fate, they will make every attempt to avoid it.) “After I returned to Earth, I found my home deserted. With my last disciple gone, I left to wander the world by myself. Everywhere I went, there was suffering. A long time ago, I vowed to rid the world of suffering,” she sighs, “And so it goes that the mountain I climb is the world beneath my feet.”For a moment, he struggles to put together three beings in his mind: Goddess Guanyin, Baoshan Sanren, the unnamed pilgrim. All of them, the same person. It's a lot.Then he considers something else. There are so many who have suffered from this curse. This is the breaking open of something. A flood that came from the most divine and damned of blessings. Standing at the edge of understanding, it feels like too much to take that last step. As if by discovering what they are meant for and knowing what she saw within them, it might destroy a part of them in a way that can’t be restored. Already, they have learnt about fate and destiny and all of it but—amazingly enough, it seems like this is something even bigger than that. Lan Xichen can understand if some things aren’t meant to be known, but for a moment he wants to ask: why them? Why was it that others could wander the world, coming and going under the sun, living each day by choice and chance? Why did the punishment come before the crime? Where others could find places among the land and sea, why was he given enough power to topple the Heavens, yet there wasn’t even an inch of Earth left for them?“If I were to tell you it’s not all hopeless, would you believe me? There is still time to change things. Cry no more, young master. What tears you shed are the autumn leaves that will nourish your next spring. You have it within you to stop this winter.”“What about us?” This comes out as a whisper. Lan Xichen makes the snow stop falling, but it is still winter in his heart. Carefully, he brushes some snowflakes off Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “The Emperor gave us a month. Did you know that? Less than a month until you would be summoned to decide my fate.”“The decision has always been yours,” she insists. “Leave me to deal with him. I never asked for you to be put through this. Believe me when I say that I will make my feelings on the matter known.”Lan Xichen exhales shakily. He’s not sure if he can believe her, but it’s a start. Everything she’s said so far seems to suggest that there is still hope. “We’ve been told there’s a possibility he isn’t dead, but there was no trace of his hun in Heaven, and if his po was left it has been cleaved from his body.[3] If his soul is wandering, how do I bring him back?”“The soul must return by its own will. He alone must choose his own salvation.” Guanyin lifts her head, a glimmer of warmth returning to her eyes. “But at the very least, you can help guide him home. You should know how to. After all, you’ve done it once before.”Many years have passed since he went searching for a little boy in the mountains. It’s only in hindsight that he realises what a miracle it was that he found him that time. Now he can’t help but wonder, was it by chance or was it by fate? How did he find him? Lan Xichen tries to remember, but all he can hear is a little voice demanding, are you a fairy? The wishes he made, for his family’s happiness, for his sister’s soup, for more dogs, and then, his final wish—(I also want to be important to someone someday)—but you are important. He wants to tell him this. He wants him to hear it. He wants him to know. You are so important. The world falls apart without you. It won’t last. Don’t you understand? Without you, what else is there? You are my reason, my home. I love you. I love you. Please, come back. Even if he mostly knows what he must do, part of him is still wary that there are hidden dangers. It can’t be this simple. The mountain shrine barely exists in his memories but it won’t be that difficult to track it down. Beyond that, it’s hard to believe it’ll simply be a case of finding Jiang Cheng’s soul and bringing it home. There must be more to this than there appears. “Where is he?”Guanyin speaks as though she didn’t hear him, “His path has never been clear. Muddy, muddy waters, yet—there he is, beneath it all.” She stares at Jiang Cheng for a moment before lifting her gaze. “You may love him, but listen to me. Love cannot save him. Think about it. If love were enough to save a person, who would die on this Earth?”Lan Xichen can feel his brother’s gaze and hears Wei Wuxian’s heart skip a beat. “What thoughts did you have after he was gone, young master?” she asks, directing the question at the Second Jade and gesturing towards Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji’s hands clench on his knees. “You couldn’t accept that he wouldn’t come back, so you decided that if he did, you’d most likely find him…?”There were other reasons for it, but this was also one of them. “Wherever the chaos is.”“And if he wasn’t there?”“If not, then… one day, I would meet him at the grave.”“Because you swore never to forget him, even if your paths were not to cross again in this lifetime. You knew you had to continue living because if he came back, the last thing you wanted was for him to be alone in this world again.” Guanyin nods towards Jiang Cheng. “But believe it or not, he wouldn’t have been alone.” Lan Wangji opens his mouth and then closes it.She continues, “You weren’t the only one waiting for him. You weren’t the only one mourning him. There was anger waiting for him yes, and lots of it, but there was also love. You’re welcome to disagree with me here, but really, every welcome paves the way back home. Even the most difficult ones.”“I thought it was a risk. I didn't know back then. How could I trust him?”“Maybe back then you couldn't, but now you can. Consider this. With the world watching, Jiang Wanyin was said to have killed his brother. With no one watching, he gave him his life.”Lan Wangji nods stiffly, though his voice is soft. “I understand.”“But you just said that love can’t save him.” Wei Wuxian scrubs his face angrily. “What’s all of this you're saying, then? Speak more clearly. Explain what you mean!”“Very well, young master. Let me ask you this. Does it really count as saving a person if they don’t want to be saved?”What does that mean? The only thing I regret is how much it hurt both of us in the end. I shouldn’t have made that choice on his behalf—(what does that mean, what does that mean)—self-sacrifice doesn’t mean much to the ones who care about you. Never cut out your own heart to save a loved one, for later you will discover that you have cut out theirs instead. What does that mean? Lan Xichen recalls when his brother asked to hide Wei Wuxian away, he remembers his mother locked in the Gentian House, he thinks of Zhinü locked away in Heaven. What wouldn’t someone do to save the person they love? It’s a question he can’t answer because he can’t think of anything he wouldn’t do. What if that person doesn’t want to be saved? In that same respect, he can’t find an answer for that either.Wei Wuxian swallows thickly and shoots Lan Xichen a pleading look. “Let me come with you.”Lan Xichen’s eyes slide shut. “Where is he?”There is a place in hell, she says. A place where souls pass over, where the dead and damned tend to gather. It was during her incarnation as the Princess Miaoshan, many lifetimes ago. After she was subjected to many trials and brutally put to death for doing so, her soul descended into hell and blessed the burning ground. By this, her mere presence caused flowers to blossom underfoot, and the air to sweeten with music, and that small corner of hell to turn into a paradise.[4]Her guess was that the unknown power of her first disciple (“Yanling Daoren,” she utters softly. “May we meet again.”) to separate souls from bodies most likely sent them there. In her lessons with him, he would often ask about that blessed place. They would speak about how it might offer shelter to the damned or the lost someday, giving them a moment’s respite so that they could eventually find peace.“That was why he left in the first place,” she explains, “He saw potential there, and wanted to find a way to access that paradise. I think he found it, or I assume he did. When I was there with you and the young master at the mountain shrine—”“It’s at the mountain shrine?”“That’s my first and oldest shrine.”“Ah, right.”“Do you know what a grotto-heaven[5] is?” Even when he nods with certainty, she looks unconvinced. “I sensed it when I was there, but it is hidden to all the senses. Despite that, I believe it won’t be difficult for you to find where it is. Hell’s gates may be locked, but this sacred place would grant access to all those who require it.”Lan Xichen waits for her to continue. “Is that it then? Is that everything? It can’t be that simple.”Guanyin says nothing for a while, simply watching him. Again, that ‘something’ inside him stirs. “You must put him first,” she says. “If you really love him, his choice must come before your own. Don’t trick him. Let him decide for himself what he wants. He has been through enough deceptions in his life, as have you. You can help him come to a decision, but you cannot make that decision for him, understand?”What does it mean if Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to come back? Why would he not want to come back? Lan Xichen can’t bring himself to look at him again, afraid that the answers will be written there on his face. “I promise,” he says, “He will decide for himself.”“There is nothing simple about making this choice. Walking any path is difficult, but walking it alone? I can only imagine that by now, his soul must be weary. When he speaks, let him share his burdens with you.”These words spark a memory. It was months ago when he stood behind a wall and listened to a conversation in the pouring rain. Perhaps it’s due to Guanyin’s motherly tone, but he hears the same advice Jiang Cheng gave to his nephew, once told to him by his sister. (Your mother told me once that it’s the people who love you who will always try to listen.)“Believe in him as he has always believed in you,” she says and meets his gaze steadily. “Listen to him. Remember his words and honour them. That is your compassion. That is what you must do.”Lan Xichen blinks rapidly, melted snow and tears dripping off his jaw. “Thank you, Goddess.”“Go now, my friend,” Guanyin bows her head, pressing her palms together. “He waits for you. My blessings to you both.”
As expected, it isn’t that difficult to find the mountain. (Different paths occupying the same realm, but different parts of it. Think of mountain springs. Think of rivers.) The truth is that cultivation isn’t quite the same as rivers flowing to the sea. It’s easier to see that now, with the veins of spiritual energy running through the Earth no longer hidden from his sight. Despite this, it’s mostly a memory that guides him, more than any spiritual map. It flickers in his mind, like a candle in the night. How strange must it be for the people of Yunmeng to see snow falling across their lands? Lan Xichen smiles bitterly to himself. If he should fail to bring Jiang Cheng back, he won’t hesitate to stop this winter. No one else should suffer this loss except him.When they arrive, it’s clear that winter has set in. The rice paddies are like floating mirrors stacked up to the Heavens. Beyond them, the trees are stark against the snow, which remains unspoilt even by the wildlife. Something about the scenery reminds him of the poem Jiang Cheng wrote. The earlier verses when he was, perhaps, a little less drunk.
The summer ends, the year is weighed,
Of seasons gone and seasons made,
We can but watch them ebb and flow,
When trees are bare and clean as jade.
Why he would think about that, he has no idea. Lan Xichen lands without disturbing the ground whilst the others end up sinking knee-deep into the fallen snow. Someone immediately appears at his side. “Young master, please take my elbow,” he says, patiently waiting for Jin Ling to grab hold of his arm. The day has been long, and everyone’s energy reserves are running low. Wen Ning was practically carrying the other boys, but Jin Ling refused to go with them. There was no point arguing with him. He wanted to be with his uncle.After Jin Ling murmurs his thanks, they continue onwards.For a moment, Lan Xichen simply looks around trying to get his bearings. That memory is slippery in his mind, even though he remembers some parts of it so clearly. Maybe he should be able to see spiritual energy flowing in the direction of the shrine, but there is really no indication of where it might be in the landscape. Strange.How did he find Jiang Cheng last time? It’s as he’s pondering this that a quiet voice asks, where would an angry little young master go? This errant thought stirs the frosty air, causing a moaning wind to whistle through the trees, and coaxing a strange noise from… Liebing? Oh, that’s right.“Would you mind helping me, my friend?” he asks gently, already lowering himself to kneel on the ground. “Thank you.”Jin Ling flutters around him, watching nervously as Lan Xichen adjusts Jiang Cheng to sit and lean against his shoulder. Seeing this, the boy quickly wedges both swords under his arm, scooping his uncle’s legs up to keep his feet dry. He doesn’t seem to care that this leaves him crouching in the snow.With his hands now free, Lan Xichen lifts Liebing to his lips. Last time when he played it, he didn’t have any specific tune in mind, but this time he plays the first part of a very special tune. Their song pours out like a river, each limpid note reverberating off the rocky mountains. Something seems to wake from the music.Lan Xichen listens carefully. “There.”The path reveals itself to them. As he continues to guide the others, he’s only distantly aware of Jin Ling sticking close by his side. Eventually, the sparse trees thin out further to reveal a bare outcrop of rock. Although there is no more music being played, the cave entrance falls open at the sound of his approaching footsteps.Walking inside, an overwhelming rush of nostalgia washes over him. All of these small, seemingly unremarkable things cause him to slow his steps. The colour of the limestone, the trickle of water dripping from an opening in the ceiling, the silvery moonlight reflected in a pool at the centre. It’s all so perfectly preserved.“I know this place,” Lan Xichen breathes, shifting Jiang Cheng to one arm, and reaching up to run a hand along the walls. Tears prick at his eyes again. “We were here before, a long time ago.”For some reason, it hits him then that hidden within this grotto-heaven is the gateway to a whole other world—to think that such a place was here all along! That’s when it also occurs to him that Jiang Cheng is in hell. Several hours have passed since Guanyin told them this, but he didn’t take the time to really think about this until now. What type of place is hell? How long has Jiang Cheng been there? What has he endured? All the time he was in Heaven, that time would have been better spent searching the realm where his soul is wandering— Lan Xichen rushes over to the goddess statue, splashing through a puddle in his haste. The goddess statue Guanyin smiles down at him, her gentle features hewn roughly in the stone. Where is it? Where is the gateway? Where is it?
(It is hidden to all the senses. I believe it won’t be difficult for you to find where it is. Hell’s gates may be locked, but this sacred place would grant access to all those who require it.)
The gateway shows itself the moment he arrives at her feet, the base of the statue splitting apart to reveal a staircase leading downwards.“You cannot bring him with us.”Lan Xichen pauses on the threshold, turning to meet his brother’s steady gaze. “Excuse me?”“You must leave him behind, xiōngzhǎng,” Wangji says calmly. “We don’t know what dangers await us in hell. You will need to have both your hands free and your wits about you.”Even if he’s right, Lan Xichen hasn’t let go of Jiang Cheng for one moment since pulling him out of the sea. Just this thought has him holding on even tighter. This is his body, he tells himself. This is nothing more than a vessel. This is not the part of Jiang Cheng that matters, and yet, this body is also just as precious as every other part of him. How can he possibly leave him behind?“Who knows what entering the land of the dead will do to the undead?” Wei Wuxian muses aloud, out of the blue, stomping his feet until clods of ice break off in pieces. “Especially somewhere as unknown to outsiders as this 'paradise-in-hell'. My friend, I think it would be best if you stayed here.”Wen Ning stops what he was doing. That advice might be quite sensible, but he had been planning to join them on their quest. Black veins crawl up his neck, “But, young master…”“The children cannot come with us either,” Wei Wuxian continues, ignoring the protests this immediately provokes. “Wen Ning, please. We need you to protect them. Guard my shīdì’s body until our return—”“I’m not staying here! I’m coming with you!” Jin Ling insists, shouting louder than all of the other boys combined, thrashing around in agitation. Lan Xichen can sympathise. They’re both in the same difficult position. Which to choose: soul or body? “I’m coming with you!”Hearing this, the answer becomes obvious to him. “Young Master Jin, please listen to me,” Lan Xichen says gently. “We need someone to stay here with him. If you stay, I can go find his soul. I don’t want to leave him behind either, but I would feel much better leaving him with you.”Those words seem to reach through to him, though he still gives him a wary look. With that expression, he really looks so much like his uncle. “You promise you’ll bring him back?”Lan Xichen’s grip tightens for a second, but then he kneels down once again. With his head bowed, he delays in answering him. He can’t make that promise. He doesn’t want to risk breaking it. In the end, all he can say is, “I promise I will do my best.”After a few moments, Jin Ling joins him on the floor and holds out his arms.They leave without another word, walking single-file through the narrow tunnel-like entrance. It’s difficult to concentrate when his arms are suddenly so empty. Even so, as they pass through from one realm to another, Lan Xichen feels his senses come alive as the ceiling then falls away and they descend deeper beneath the rock. Walking ahead of the others, Shuoyue glints in the darkness, chiming softly along with his pulse.The spirit caves seem endless, twisting and turning like a coiling serpent and sinking so far below the earth that the air becomes like water, drowning them in its depths. There is no wind, no light, no sound. Nothing to guide them but strange currents of energy released in a steady stream. With one more step, the world opens without any warning. Lan Xichen blinks, struggling to adjust to the light because… it’s so dazzling. And bright. There is sky above them again, a riot of colours and sounds, wide-open spaces, and salt on the breeze. Slowly, he lowers his sword. When he realises where they are, he wonders, should such a place really be called ‘hell’? “Isn’t this Lotus Pier?” Wei Wuxian squints around in confusion. What type of hell looks like home? Inhaling deeply, even the air smells like the docks. “But how can this be?”“If these are Guanyin’s blessed grounds…” Lan Wangji starts, and his words trail off, but he’s right. If this is the corner of hell that Guanyin blessed, could this be Jiang Cheng’s idea of paradise? That would make sense—Except for the fact that further out past the docks, the waters are cold and dark. It’s really quite a strange scene.With the lotuses dying the further out they spread and the pitch-black waters lit up in red flames… the sky is also unlike anything he’s ever seen. Thick, dark clouds gathering like a storm, but there is light coming from somewhere. Pale, milky sunlight wavering in refracted beams as if they are underwater looking up through the surface. Lan Xichen holds out his hands to catch the ash falling from those clouds. It melts like snow on his palms, a grimy film of residue left coating his skin.“These are the Blessed Lands within hell.”Ah, yes. What a good reminder of exactly where they are. No matter how beautiful the surroundings are, this is still hell. The person who spoke is hardly visible. A shadowy impression of a human form that shifts in and out of sight. Lan Xichen places himself in front of the others. “Are we permitted to enter this realm?”“Why ask permission if you’re already here?”That’s also another good point. Somehow, they’ve crossed worlds and there haven’t been any problems so far. However, Lan Xichen readjusts his grip on Shuoyue and gestures at his companions. “These two are with me. Under my protection.” There’s no response to this which he takes to be a grudging acceptance. Indeed, they continue on their way without interruption. The people among the bustling crowds blur together, their faces instantly forgettable and their bodies indistinct. These must be lost souls Guanyin talked about. With this thought, his pace quickens.Wei Wuxian pulls out Chenqing and blows a few notes. Nothing happens. “The fuck?”“Excuse me, there’s someone I’m looking for… oh, sorry.” Lan Xichen frowns when yet another soul shies away from his voice, shrinking back as if from a flame. Exasperated, he tries again. “Please, his name is Jiang Wanyin—”“You’re too late.”Lan Xichen stumbles. “Pardon?”“If you’re hoping to recover his soul… it’s already been done. That young master… put his soul back together all by himself… he doesn’t believe in wasting time.”“Oh, right.” That’s so typical of Jiang Cheng that Lan Xichen has to bite his lip, but it's impossible not to smile. “Thank you,” he says again, bowing twice. “Thank you very—”“Look!” Wei Wuxian rushes forwards before they can stop him.The crowds disperse into smoke, parting to reveal a long wooden platform stretching ahead. It’s quite a contrast to the dull grey stone of the docks, and therefore it’s obvious that this is where they must go. If he had any doubt before, Zidian suddenly lets out a spark, shivering against his skin. Perhaps it senses its master?Lan Xichen obediently removes the ring, and—this is the moment when a red string unspools itself from his finger. The first thing he notices is that it’s been worn so thin, as delicate as a spider’s web. Could this really be the Red String of Fate? There’s only one way to find out.Walking further along the wooden walkway, following the glimmer of this thread, the tangy scent of the sea grows thicker even if there is none in sight. It doesn’t make any sense. Then again, none of this landscape seems to have any order to it, with bits and pieces of so many different places stitched together. Something flickers in the corner of his vision. Looking upwards, it’s another type of string swinging through the air where it is attached to a kite. There are also several other carefully painted kites, both finished and unfinished, laid out on the ground to dry. He pauses, turning to look sideways at an extension of the walkway. There are more of them branching off like the thorns on a rose stem.Lan Xichen knows he has fallen behind the others, but even though he wants nothing more than to meet with his husband as soon as possible… there’s something about all of this that’s begging him to look. Something that is telling him it’s important to pay attention. Don’t rush. This is not a waste of time. This matters.The next branch leads out onto a pavilion. Even though it’s quite far away, he can see two figures sitting there in the shade. He can smell freshly brewed tea despite the distance. The next branch is a cluster of platforms, and he can see a trio of stone stools set around a table. There is a pot of steaming hot soup at the centre and three bowls laid out.That’s where he finds Wei Wuxian, staring as if he can’t believe his eyes. This must be of significance to him, then. Lan Xichen is about to nudge him along, but then the wooden boards beneath them rattle, shaking with a clatter of footsteps running past. He can hear children laughing and calling out to each other. Wei Wuxian’s head turns to follow the movement, clearly seeing something that he cannot. “Oh, shīdì,” he breathes, his mouth trembling into a smile. “You’re too slow. Run faster or I’ll catch you.”Lan Xichen walks a little further and sees a room similar to the one he stayed in at Lotus Pier. From the decor, this is definitely somewhere in the main house. There is a chair facing the water, cushions and blankets laid out on the deck extending out of the room, a collection of cloth toys scattered over the floor, and a crib in the corner.These must be memories.Jiang Cheng’s memories of childhood, and of his family, and of his home. Lan Xichen can only see the things that are familiar to him, even if they aren’t familiar in the same way Jiang Cheng once knew them. The kites, the pavilion, the tea, the room, the people and places that existed in the old Lotus Pier. Lan Xichen’s heart aches. How terrible must it be that Jiang Cheng’s idea of perfect happiness belongs to a past and home that he can no longer reach? Are these even his memories or are they unfulfilled wishes? (I miss home, but I miss it even more when I am there—)Something flutters over to land at his feet.With careful hands, he picks up a scrap of paper and turns it over. It’s a painting, yellowed and faded from age. Another piece of paper has a waterfall and river etched into the border. That’s one of his letters. The breeze picks up and hundreds more of them fly past, letters and letters like blossoms in the wind.Lan Xichen glances over when orange light shines upon his face. There is a sunset. The lake is dotted with paper lanterns shaped like lotuses, and there is a boat out on the water. The blazing sun burns his eyes. Then he hears the lonesome cry of a seagull, which slows his footsteps—The scenery changes in the blink of an eye. Suddenly they are no longer at the coast, nor among the lakes, but… on one side of a very large river. Instead of the lotuses of Yunmeng, there are bright red spider-lilies growing along the riverbank that cause his heart to thud in his chest. These are the Flowers of the Other Shore, the Flowers of Paradise. “These flowers,” Wei Wuxian mutters, frowning, “I’ve seen them before.”This must be the River of Forgetfulness.There is a large rock rising out of the water. Is that the Rock of Three Lifetimes? If a person wants to meet their loved one in their next life, they must carve their names into the rock. After scanning the unmarked stone, he turns to look at the long arching bridge stretching out from the end of the pier, and leaning against the parapet… Lan Xichen lifts a quivering hand to his mouth.There he is.Jiang Cheng sits in a crumpled heap, his knees pulled close to his chest and arms draped over them. There he is, and Lan Xichen can’t breathe at the sight of him. With his head bent, it’s impossible to know if he’s seen them yet or not. He takes a step forward, but then a loud bark halts him in his tracks. A wisp of colour blurs over to nip at his ankles, fluttering in and out of sight. There is a flash of sharp, white teeth. Behind him, Wei Wuxian lets out a cry of alarm—“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Come here.”The creature swerves around, rushing back to Jiang Cheng’s side. There are three of them. These must be the dogs he told him about, leaping and chasing after each other, their souls faded to the point of transparency. What a cold comfort it must be that they remember him as their master, even in death.Lan Xichen turns and is surprised to find such an expression on Wei Wuxian’s face. He’s clinging to Wangji and shivering in fear, but he hasn’t looked away from Jiang Cheng, and… it doesn’t seem to be the dogs that are frightening him. From the way he’s staring at his brother, it appears as if he’s replaced one fear with another.Indeed, Wei Wuxian is trapped in a truly awful memory. The last time he saw Jiang Cheng this feeble was back when he found him, shortly after his core had been destroyed. Covered in blood, pale and broken. The similarities here are striking. With the same vacant expression and defeated posture, seeing him like this, it’s… it’s like he can’t move at all—(take care of yourself, Wei Ying)—oh god.How can it be that even after everything, Jiang Cheng has kept his promise about the dogs?Meanwhile, Lan Xichen spots a stooped figure walking over towards them, boldly going against the flow of the souls as they march across the bridge. The closer they are, the more he sees that the person is solid, and… ah. It’s a familiar face. The old granny who told him the story about Jiang Cheng when he went looking for fairies in the mountain.“Lady Meng[6],” he says in greeting, and Meng Po smiles grimly in return. Part of him is amused. How is it that so many of the people they have known or know in their lives are actually far more extraordinary than they seem? Everything is connected, as it has always been.After a moment, Lan Xichen kneels down and folds his hands neatly over his lap. What comes next? It’s anyone’s guess. They are all gathered here, so what is else there to do but wait? The relief he initially felt from seeing Jiang Cheng is now tinged with fear. (You’re too late.) He didn’t notice it before, but there’s a teacup dangling from Jiang Cheng’s fingers.
(Lan Huan, do you think we ever drank the tea?)
Lan Xichen can’t see if the cup is full or not, but… Jiang Cheng remembers his dogs, and there are all of these places from his home. There are their letters, and the boat on the water, and the fact that all of these things remain seems to suggest—“You came.” Jiang Cheng regards him evenly. “Why are you here?”“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Lan Xichen tilts his head, meeting his bland look with a smile. “But I thought we agreed that you’d be the one to find me later, and I’d be the one waiting for you this time.”Jiang Cheng is quiet for a long time; then he turns away with a bitter laugh. “Is that what we agreed?”Lan Xichen hesitates, but then reaches over to take one of his hands. Before they make contact, there is a small flare of purple light as Zidian returns to its master. When their fingers brush, there is no sensation of it. No warmth from Jiang Cheng at all. He’s as cold as ice. Lan Xichen checks the teacup again. It’s mostly full, but what if he took a sip of it?Even the smell causes Lan Xichen to sway backwards as fog clouds his mind. Strangely enough, whilst his vision goes a little fuzzy, he’s vividly reminded of a dream. He is chasing after someone, but the figure in front of him is a blur of motion. They reach a bridge and the other person runs across— What if that really happened? What if during previous lifetimes, whenever their deaths coincided, he saw Jiang Cheng at the bridge and chased after him? But the Rock of Three Lifetimes has neither of their names carved on it, and the red string linking them together is so frayed… does that mean Jiang Cheng didn’t want them to meet again in each lifetime?Lan Xichen shivers, remembering Guanyin’s words. Does it really count as saving a person if they don’t want to be saved? How many of his memories might a sip of that tea have erased? Part of being human is holding onto memories, but with decades lost, of life and memories, what will be left of him?“Wanyin, do you remember what happened?” There is that feeling again. The breaking open of something and having to face something he doesn’t want to see. “Do you know who I am?” he asks, squeezing his hand. “It’s me, Lan Huan, your husband. I’ve come to bring you home.”Jiang Cheng takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes.What type of reaction was that? What is that supposed to mean? Lan Xichen tries to focus on rubbing some warmth back into Jiang Cheng’s fingers. What should he do in this type of situation? Watching Jiang Cheng bring the teacup closer to his chest, his heart sinks like a stone. “How long have you been here?” What if hell follows the same rules as Heaven? What if an hour on Earth counts as a day here in hell? What if it’s been even longer than that? Lan Xichen knows he’s overwhelmed and panicking over every single possibility, but Sun Wu Kong told them it took Wei Wuxian six years to drag his soul back together and reach the Gates. How long has Jiang Cheng been waiting? Lan Xichen’s hands won’t stop shaking. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I should have come sooner—”“There was a battle,” Jiang Cheng says dully. “We were on the coast, and there was a dragon, wasn’t there? Yes, that’s right.” There is another drawn-out pause. “Smacked me out of the sky so fast I didn’t even see it coming.”“None of us did.” Lan Xichen didn’t even get to see what happened. At the time, he was too busy trying to reach the island. All he saw was the aftermath. The sky went dark, and then everyone started screaming. “None of us saw it coming. It’s not your fault. Even the dragon admitted he lost control when… my love, are you alright?”Jiang Cheng doesn’t appear to be listening to him anymore.Lan Xichen can't help leaning back, completely at a loss for what to do.This is not how he imagined their reunion going. Something tells him that even if he were to pull Jiang Cheng into his arms right now, whilst he might allow himself to be held, he wouldn’t return that embrace. When he imagines that, Lan Xichen bows his head, his tears finally spilling over his cheeks as something seems to wither in his chest.“Zewu-Jun.”Lan Xichen sucks in a shuddering breath. “What happened to him?”“Nothing happened, but this is the first time he has rejected my tea.” Meng Po purses her lips in thought. “Every other time, he wouldn’t hesitate to drink it. Sometimes I’d barely have time to pour him a cup before he’d gulp it down and run straight across the bridge.”‘Every other time’? That would suggest that this is something that has plagued them through many lifetimes. They’ve been here before. What if Jiang Cheng always drank the tea, because… because there was never another path for them that he could see? If it was always the same bitter ending, who would want to remember such a thing?Maybe Heaven made it so that they would face all kinds of obstacles, meaning they would never have the chance to pursue anything else for themselves. Their lives were written before they were even born. Every time they would follow the script, completely unaware that they were being played for fools. By the time they realised, it would be too late—“How many times have we done this?” Even as he asks this, there is a wheel spinning in Lan Xichen’s mind. It must be countless times. There was never the chance, not only for them to fall in love, but also for them to stray from the path. What a hopeless thing it was. That this life was all that they’d ever known, and beyond that there was nothing.This was their cycle, repeating over and over again, varying in so many ways except for their losses. This was what they found impossible to break away from. The golden circle. There is no beginning, there is no end. Life is as it always was— “In more recent times, you both started to sense that something was not quite right. Sometimes you would catch sight of one other and start to wonder. Why does he always drink the tea? Maybe the shame of your punishment was too much for him to bear. Maybe because he wants to forget, but the heart doesn’t forget that easily, does it?”“Apparently not.”Lan Xichen startles at this, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t even seem to realise he’s spoken. He doesn’t seem to be aware of much of anything. Despite how detached he sounds, somehow all Lan Xichen can think about is what he said during their first argument, his eyes like two bolts of lightning as he glared him down.
(The mistakes I have made are mine to remember and mine to bear alone.)
Every time he starts to think he understands Jiang Cheng, it’s times like these where he starts to realise how much there is left to learn. With this, he blames himself, doesn’t he? For some reason, he really thinks everything is his fault. Not just the battle, but as if in all the many lifetimes where they have surrendered to fate, he was the only one lacking in courage.“How can I possibly forget all of my mistakes? Didn’t the last one get me killed?” Jiang Cheng’s gaze moves somewhere past Lan Xichen’s right shoulder. “And now that I’ve failed him, what right do I have to keep on going? How can I start over? How can I drink the tea? How can I forget?”“What are you saying?” Lan Xichen says desperately, cupping his face in both hands. “Listen to me. The dragon didn’t kill you. You haven’t failed anyone. You aren’t even dead—”“Well, maybe I should be dead!!”Lan Xichen flinches backwards, stung by the venom in his voice. There are no more smiles. Not a trace of humour left on his face.This is what he’s been holding onto all this time. Unlike last night, which was the swift release of a storm of emotions, this has been building for so much longer. (—because this hidden desire to leave it all behind, for so many years he’s carried it alone in silence, and it’s been festering inside him, this daily poison; there’s really nothing lonelier than keeping a secret.)At times, he’s suspected that Jiang Cheng harboured such thoughts about himself. For this reason, he’s been expecting this for a while now. Even then, it’s still difficult to witness so much self-loathing. This breakdown has been overdue for more than a decade. Perhaps even longer than that.“Maybe I should be dead,” Jiang Cheng repeats to himself. “Dead or alive, what’s the difference when I’m like this? After so many lifetimes I’ve still learnt nothing. If this is where my path ends, maybe I should just stay here. There’s no point even crossing the bridge. What’s the use in trying each time—”“But you have always done your best,” Lan Xichen blurts out. “What more could a person ask of themselves?”“It’s not good enough.”Lan Xichen stares in disbelief. “Not good enough for who?”Instead of answering him, Jiang Cheng glances again over his shoulder. “You managed it, didn’t you? Starting over, doing better. Your friend was right, you know. I might be so driven of a person, always comparing myself to others, but… I will never be equal to you, nor will I ever achieve what you have. I think I understand that now.”After a beat, “No, that wasn’t…” but Lan Wangji doesn’t know what else he can say. Back then, when he was holding Wei Ying’s unconscious body, he was more focused on him than what Wen Ning had been saying. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t listening, but the anger he felt upon hearing what Wei Ying suffered from sacrificing his core has changed. It hasn’t diminished, but now he also knows about Jiang Cheng’s sacrifice, and so does Wen Ning.How were they to know back then? He was so enraged hearing what Wei Ying had gone through and seeing the state he was in. After Jiang Cheng attacked him, he could say he was even glad that Wen Ning spoke in anger, and on their behalf. If Jiang Cheng had ended up qi deviating in shock, he probably would’ve felt even more justified feeling this way.Everything has changed since all these secrets came out. There’s no way he can hold onto any righteous anger with all that he knows, and there are other things he has thought about regarding Jiang Cheng’s jealousy towards Wei Ying that have also changed. Watching the Immortals being so open about their bias had been surprisingly difficult to stomach. Maybe that was because he hadn’t been expecting Jiang Cheng to be so resigned to their judgement.It was clear that he accepted it, even perhaps expected it.Where was Sandu Shengshou who cared little for others’ opinions? Where was all of his so-called arrogance and pride? When Jiang Cheng didn’t lash out at Wei Ying afterwards, even wishing him well, that was when he finally accepted that he really wasn’t the person he thought he was. Perhaps what he’d felt wasn’t jealousy so much as it was shame. Lan Wangji never thought Wen Ning’s remark would be remembered, yet here, Jiang Cheng was able to recite it word-for-word. Truth be told, after all was said and done, he'd completely forgot about it himself. For Jiang Cheng to repeat everything so plainly and without any bitterness, that would suggest that he truly believed what was said—Words. He needs words. He needs to say something. Silence can be as damning as agreement. Say something.Wei Wuxian knew he missed out on a lot, but never this. Who would have thought Wen Ning would say such things? None of them knew the full picture back then, and it showed. These are only fragments of what must have happened and yet, hearing it is enough to freeze his blood. “Lan Zhan?”Something warm rolls down Lan Xichen’s wrist, and he goes completely still. He can sense his brother’s unease. “What is he talking about? Wangji?”This must be some sort of misunderstanding, but whatever this friend of theirs has said must have been vicious enough to leave this sort of mark. It takes a lot to affect Jiang Cheng this badly. In a way, he’s glad their brothers aren’t standing too close to them right now. This isn’t even about them, but it might just be if they’re not careful.“Leave us,” he forces himself to say, barely managing to keep his voice steady. “Go wait at the docks.” When he doesn’t hear any movements, his control slips, causing the air around them to frost over with ice. “Didn’t you hear me? This doesn’t involve you—”Lan Xichen almost recoils when a hand touches his face.The only warmth from Jiang Cheng so far has been his tears. When he looks down, Jiang Cheng is gazing up at him with a strange expression. He’s never been comfortable with crying in front of others. “What did you say? I haven’t failed anyone? What about you, Lan Huan?” That voice is deceptively soft. “How many times have I failed you?”“You haven’t,” he says firmly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”“But on the cliff, I left and didn’t return until you were on your deathbed. I let a rumour have power over us and chose my reputation over your wellbeing. Whether you agreed to it or not, I left you when you needed me most. And then you ascended,” Jiang Cheng’s jaw tightens, “And I couldn’t even look at you, let alone face you properly.”“You still married me,” Lan Xichen argues, “Even when it became difficult, you never complained nor did you ever give up. You didn’t blame me when I was blind to your suffering. If anything, I am the one who has failed you.”“Then,” Jiang Cheng continues, “When we fought the dragon, what they said about you was right. You kept having to check on me throughout the battle. You were depending on me to do my part, but I kept distracting you. Then I lost us the battle. And now we’re here.”“That wasn’t your fault,” he insists, pressing their foreheads together. “The reason I kept looking back was that I was afraid. The dragon wanted revenge and made you his target. None of us was expecting him to come after you like that.”With them this close together, he should be able to feel Jiang Cheng’s breath on his cheeks, but all he can see are tears pouring down his face as he continues crying soundlessly. He can’t wipe his tears for him. Whatever he says, he cannot seem to comfort him. He can’t get through to him, no matter how hard he tries. What will it take for Jiang Cheng to understand this was an accident? It might be difficult to accept, but the odds were never in their favour. Even so, they tried their best, and that should count for something.“This wasn’t your fault.” Lan Xichen repeats. “Why must you demand so much from yourself? Do you have any idea how relieved we were to find out you weren’t dead? I don’t think I’ll forget that moment for the rest of my life.”Jiang Cheng struggles to hold his gaze. “Do you know that feeling when you know something is coming, but you let it happen anyway? I’ve not been honest with you, Lan Huan. I think deep down, I knew we couldn’t have this, but… I just wanted it so badly.”But surely Jiang Cheng can’t think he was alone in thinking so?It was desperation that forced their hand. They didn’t go into this expecting to win, but they had to believe that they stood a chance, even if they didn’t. Otherwise, there would have been no chance at all. It’s always a risk to believe in something. What if it doesn’t work out? (What if it does?) Lan Xichen can’t think of another time when he has staked so much on a single throw, but the risk was worth it. Of course it was—(Trying is key. So long as you try, you cannot fail.)—after all, what is life about except taking chances? “I wanted you so much, I wanted to believe… but who cares what I want? Look at how the people around me end up suffering.” Jiang Cheng buries his face deep into his palms. “No wonder everyone leaves.”Lan Xichen inhales sharply. “Wanyin—” A second later, he suddenly bursts out with a laugh. “If I can’t protect you, what’s the point in loving you? How can I love you? How dare I even try?”Hearing this, Lan Xichen feels like he’s been stabbed in the gut repeatedly. What’s the point? How can he? How dare he even try? Each of these things strikes at the heart, one by one, and it takes a moment for him to understand why…but that’s how Jiang Cheng loves, isn’t it? Carefully, deeply, and with so much fear. These concerns aren’t just for himself, but also for the people he thinks he’s burdening with his love. After having loved and lost so many times, by now it must be impossible not to expect the worst.
(I can’t help thinking, how can I possibly defend us from a dragon? Isn’t that ridiculous? You’re so much more powerful than me but I can’t stop thinking, what can I do to protect you? What can I possibly do—)
Oh, this man is really going to be the end of him.“I don’t need you to protect me,” Lan Xichen says, pulling his hands away from his face. “I don’t need you to prove anything. I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”Something flickers in his eyes. “How could I let you believe in ‘tomorrow’ when I couldn’t even see it for myself? How could I do that to you? False hopes and empty dreams. Those were plans we made together, but even now, my head is turned towards yesterday, not tomorrow with you…” For one heart-stopping moment, he blinks out of sight. Lan Xichen stares at his empty hands in shock. No, no, but he can’t. He can’t. This can’t be happening. Not again. A sob catches him by surprise. “Please, no.” This can’t be happening, he thinks, his lungs stuttering when their eyes finally meet again. When he comes back. “No. Please, no, no, don’t go. Jiang Cheng—”
(Do you know that feeling when you know something is coming, but you let it happen anyway?)
“All this time, I’ve been unable to let go of the past, but looking at all of these memories… it seems that the past can’t let go of me either.” Jiang Cheng’s voice is so gentle and loving with his next words, that he can’t bear to look at him. “Will you let me go, Lan Huan?”How can this be happening?Everyone keeps saying ‘leave him behind’, ‘listen to him’, but… what about letting him go? (If you really love him, his choice must come before your own)—that can’t be his choice though, can it? The thought comes again, that he could be holding him in his arms right now, but would he even be able to feel it? Oh god, would he even be able to feel it?If this really is Jiang Cheng’s choice, what right does he have to keep him here? Guanyin was right. So many decisions have been taken out of his hands, and he has paid the price for them dearly. He has suffered so, so much, because no one listens to him, nor cares what he wants. Others might claim to know better, but do they really?
(Why do they not listen to you?)
Lan Xichen squeezes his eyes shut. Oh, they’ve been here before. They’ve come full-circle. They always do—
(They are worried, perhaps even afraid of what I might say.)
—and that’s the thing, isn’t it? They need to break away. They need to move on.Lan Xichen twists around, searching desperately for something. Anything. But it dawns on him then, that with him so afraid of losing Jiang Cheng, and what that would mean for them, his fears have given him his answer. What wouldn’t he do to save the person he loves? There is nothing he wouldn’t do.Never mind cutting out hearts to save one another, this is like stoking a dying hearth. Half out of his mind with love and fear, he’s not thinking twice about what he’s throwing into the fire. He’d give it all up to keep it burning for just a little more time. Cold and shivering, his fingers sifting through the ashes… but this is not how he would love him—“Lan Huan.”—no, just a minute. A moment, please. Spare him. Give him strength. They need more time together. He can't do it. This can't be happening. Please.There is so much that rests on this decision. Even if this isn’t what he wants, this isn’t about that. There was a time when he went against everyone’s wishes and refused to take his medicine. In that same regard, Jiang Cheng has every right to drink this tea if he wants to. That time, Jiang Cheng supported his right to make his own choices, so now he must do the same. (How can this be his ‘compassion’ though? If you love someone let them go, but isn’t this different? This doesn’t feel right. This is someone’s life they’re talking about, and not just any life, this is Jiang Cheng—)Lan Xichen might want him to live more than anything, but what if he doesn’t want to? What if he was waiting all this time to say goodbye?“Do you want me to?” he asks, wiping his face dry of his tears. This is for him, he tells himself. This is to unburden him from the weight of his sorrow. This is what he deserves. “If that’s what you want, then… tell me what to do. Anything you want, tell me and I’ll take care of it. I promise.”There is silence.Whilst he waits, a strange sense of calm washes over him… but it’s so quiet. Did he say something wrong? Lan Xichen closes his eyes and folds his hands. Maybe he should have refused and begged him to stay. Why is it so quiet? In the silence, he wonders, is Jiang Cheng even there anymore, or has he already left?Maybe he’s crossed the bridge without a backwards glance. Maybe he’ll find peace in that choice and in starting over again. It’s not so bad if he thinks of it like that. However many times they’ve done this, maybe this is merely one stop along a far greater journey. Death might separate them where they are right now, but they’ll find each other again someday. He has to believe that they can meet again, otherwise what’s the point?When he’s brave enough to look, Jiang Cheng is watching him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, a hand pressed to his mouth. “Lan Huan?”Lan Xichen shifts forward. “Yes?”“What do you mean by ‘anything’? Anything I want?” he asks hoarsely. “Why would you… ah, I shouldn’t have said that. Forget what I said. Forget it! It doesn’t matter!”At first, he isn’t sure if he heard right. “What do you mean?”Jiang Cheng shakes his head, a sob bursting from his chest. “You… I know you’ve always struggled with saying no to people, especially those you care about. That means you would have done it, doesn’t it? You would have let me go, with your heart breaking… you would have, b-because that’s just the type of person you are!”Lan Xichen blinks slowly. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Isn’t that what you want?”“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, that’s what I want, but that’s just me being selfish. What about you? Think about yourself, won’t you?” Jiang Cheng thumps his forehead on his knees, gnashing his teeth together in a grimace. “Fool! What are you thinking?”What’s even happening here? Lan Xichen crouches down to slip his hand in between, carefully cushioning each blow with his palm. “Don’t hurt yourself.”Eventually, Jiang Cheng lets out a hiss and allows his head rest there for a minute before blinking up at him. “Lan Huan,” he whispers, “You’re really here, aren’t you? I’m… I'm not just imagining you here with me?”Lan Xichen’s heart nearly stops.‘Imagining’ him here? He releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. All this time, he’s been wondering how long Jiang Cheng has been waiting. If he thought he was ‘imagining’ him here, has he been under the impression all of this was just an illusion? Does that mean that all of these ‘selfish desires’ Jiang Cheng has confessed to him were never meant to be heard by anyone? (Does that make them any less true?)“Yes, I’m here.” As he lifts Jiang Cheng’s hands up, cradling them against his chest, he watches his cheeks turn red with embarrassment and lets out a tearful laugh. “I’m here with you, I promise.”Jiang Cheng’s face crumples and hearing this brings on a fresh wave of tears. “I can’t believe I really thought I could leave you just like that… after all that we’ve been through. How could I…?”This is so unexpected that Lan Xichen can’t even begin to understand it (but then, maybe his heart understands). What does it mean that Jiang Cheng might want to leave, but doesn’t want to leave him? It’s almost painful how hard his heart starts pounding, recognising that there’s something here—a simple truth that has been guiding him all along.Lan Xichen smiles, “Do you believe me when I say that I love you?”Jiang Cheng sniffs wetly and then sighs. “You have the biggest capacity to love that I have ever seen. If anyone could love me, it would be you.”“Do you know how much I love you?”All this time, he’s been trying to let love come last, but now Lan Xichen finds he cannot hold it back any longer. If these are the last moments they’ll spend together, he wants to make sure Jiang Cheng knows exactly how much he is loved. If there are some things the heart cannot forget, let him take this with him from one lifetime to the next.(—or let him hear this now, and remember it, and know it forever and carry it with him always; he doesn’t want to leave? He doesn’t want to die—) “Even I have only begun to understand it myself, but by now, you must know… you must know that I only want the best for you, whatever that might be,” Lan Xichen says. “Which means that if you want to leave this life behind you, then go—with my blessings and my love. I would not keep you here just for my sake.”Jiang Cheng sniffles again, rubbing at his eyes. “But what about you?”Lan Xichen’s heart melts, his smile softening with tenderness. “What about me? I’ll be here, waiting for you,” he says. “I would let you go because I’d want you to be free. Because with or without me, I will always wish for your happiness. Do you know why? Because your happiness is mine, just as your sorrows are mine.”There is no sound, but Jiang Cheng swallows a few times, and his eyes spill over again.“Because loving you, it’s as if the entire world has given me courage. I would give you everything in my power to give, and still ask you, is it enough? Because that is the kindness you have shown me, which I have discovered is immeasurable.”Jiang Cheng chokes out, “Lan Huan—”“However,” Lan Xichen says, halting him swiftly. “There is one thing you cannot ask me to do, and that is to forget about you. How could I ever forget what’s happened between us? Some would say there’s barely anything, yet it has given me so much. You might drink that tea and cross the bridge a thousand times, but that can’t erase my memories of you.”“I know that,” Jiang Cheng replies, uncertainly. “You’re a god now. An immortal. That’s why I was being selfish—”“Something I can’t help but wonder is if what you really want is not to forget everything, but rather to be forgotten.” It was selfish of him to express his own dreams of running away and leaving everything behind, but Jiang Cheng let him be selfish. Sometimes when we yearn to be selfish, it means we have been selfless for too long. They've given a lot to get where they are, and it never ends. “But we said ‘forgotten together’.”Jiang Cheng drops his gaze. “We did.”All this time, Lan Xichen has been listening to him.He has been listening, and what he knows is that Jiang Cheng thinks he’s failed—he thinks he’s not good enough, he thinks himself unworthy of being loved and of loving anyone. The voices are loud when you've been hearing them all your life, and when no one has told you that they're wrong. Even without that, he can recognise those feelings because he’s felt them himself. Not in the same way, but close enough to understand that there’s no simple way to explain this dark desire.“There have been times… many of them, where I thought everything would be easier if I was not around. Both for me and for others. I was ruined. I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t want to exist anymore. I thought my life was such a burden that I wanted to erase even the memories other people had of me.”A flash of lightning shoots across the sky, matching the flicker of horror that crosses Jiang Cheng’s face. Horrified, but not surprised, because he’s heard this from Lan Xichen before. They’ve talked plenty of times about it, so none of this is anything new. He’s not afraid to talk about it, even with Jiang Cheng like this.“Then I came to realise that it’s not for me to decide whether I leave pieces of myself behind for others to keep or not. That’s not something I can control. There are impressions we leave in the hearts of everyone we meet, and so our mark on this world remains without our consent nor wishing.”That breeze from before picks up again, rustling the scarlet flowers to sway around. Lan Xichen keeps a firm hand on his husband. This paradise of his won’t last under this amount of strain. The river current quickens under the bridge, thrashing like ocean waves, splashing over the wood and spilling over their knees.“You asked if I would let you go, but it’s not possible for me to do that in the way you want me to. Where you are forgotten, so will I be forgotten. You have become like the very blood that flows through my veins, and for that reason, I’ll carry you with me wherever I go and find you in everything I see—”“Oh god, no,” Jiang Cheng sobs, his voice rough with emotion. “No, you shouldn’t have to do that. I’m sorry—”“Don’t be sorry.” Lan Xichen glances down at their fingers laced together by a crimson thread. It wasn’t something he was expecting, but he’s still glad to see it. “You will never be a burden to me,” he says honestly. “Falling in love with you was like searching myself and discovering you already there.”Although Jiang Cheng’s gaze is lowered, those blue eyes seem to shine even more brightly in the dim light, glowing like twin flames. It’s obvious he’s embarrassed by all this talk of love, but he’s trying his best, just like always. Lan Xichen isn’t finished with all he has to say, but finally, there is a lightness in his heart and the storm clouds have parted to reveal a shimmering indigo sky, easing something between them. Maybe love cannot save Jiang Cheng, but maybe he never needed saving in the first place. After all, he put his own soul back together, walked from one end of hell to the other, and has been waiting here ever since. That has to mean something regarding his choice, doesn’t it? Lan Xichen keeps his eyes on the stars above them. “There is so much of you in this world, and that’s what makes it beautiful to me. That’s what would comfort me if you were to leave. Even then, I’d wait for however long your soul needs to rest. Until we meet again.”Jiang Cheng’s breath hitches at these words, and even without looking, Lan Xichen can picture him twisting Zidian around his finger. Has he ever had someone say that to him? ‘I’ll wait.’ It shouldn’t be so much, yet he looks like he's about to burst into tears again. There are questions hanging in the silence to number with the stars. However long? What if that’s forever? Lan Xichen merely squeezes his hand, lifting it to press against his mouth.“But, regarding the curse,” Jiang Cheng says haltingly, then clears his throat. “Whether I’m not around or not, I expect you to keep fighting it. If you're going to wait, let that waiting be done on Earth. At least then, you won't be alone. We didn’t come this far just to give up now—why are you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me it’s over already. I refuse to accept that.”Lan Xichen clears his throat. “No, but I’ve already met with Guanyin and the thing is, it’s not actually my fate to break the curse…”Jiang Cheng frowns at him. “Oh, you have to be kidding me.”This shouldn’t be the time to laugh, but Lan Xichen cannot help himself. When Zhinü told him ‘it is thought that once a person knows their fate, they will make every attempt to avoid it’, he immediately agreed, but with his husband scowling so deeply in thought, Lan Xichen ends up laughing again. It’s funny, but at the same time, it isn’t. Throwing oneself into the net, that’s what Jiang Cheng has done so many times, and he never stops. As always, the man’s determination is truly staggering, and the fact that so many people have underestimated him… ah, they really have no idea what he’s capable of. Lan Xichen clamps his lips shut, though his mouth twitches when he catches sight of Jiang Cheng’s overly serious expression again. It’s clear that he’s also genuinely puzzled at this revelation. Having to face something so bizarre and overwhelming like this, naturally, it’s impossible to know how to react.“Alright, so,” Jiang Cheng squints, “How do I break it? What do I have to do?”Where others might have stumbled, he has gone so quickly from disbelief to action that Lan Xichen has to look away for a moment.What does he have to do?If fate has always driven him back into reincarnation, either returning to life or remaining in death will break that cycle, but also… he needs to believe that he can have that which he wants so much, that which he thinks unattainable—happiness—and he needs to be alive to do that. Attempt the impossible. There is no doubt in his mind that Jiang Cheng will do whatever needs to be done, but at what cost to himself?Ever since they started this quest, he’s been doing far more than he should and bearing the consequences alone. Lan Xichen knows he should be glad that Jiang Cheng’s choice is as good as made, but if he could, he would not have him suffer again. “You don’t always have to be so strong, you know?” he says, using one hand to wipe his tears.Jiang Cheng’s eyes flutter shut and he leans into his touch with a sigh. This is all the permission he needs, and yet this action also reminds him of last night. Was it really only yesterday when they confessed to each other? Somehow it feels like centuries have passed since then, and yet no time has passed at all. There’s something about this moment that also reminds him of when he was lying on his deathbed, his hand tangled in Jiang Cheng’s hair, his life slipping through his fingers. He asked him to tell him more about their time together. (Tell me about the festival and the myth. The mountains at sunset. Winter persimmons, and walking in the snow. What else, Jiang Cheng?)Around them, the memories Jiang Cheng has been holding onto have begun to fade. What if this world is really an illusion? This paradise in hell was constructed for those who are lost. It was meant to offer a moment’s respite so that they could eventually find peace… and yet, Jiang Cheng has lingered here, amongst the shadows, and found no peace at all.It must be terrifying to see the world (as he’s known it, for however long he’s been here) unravelling before his very eyes. The water level has continued to rise, prompting Jiang Cheng to glance down at his own startled reflection. When he only looks around in confusion, Lan Xichen leans in closer until he can see himself reflected in Jiang Cheng’s reddened eyes. “Look at me,” he says, calling Jiang Cheng’s attention back to himself. “Don’t think about anything else. Stay with me. Listen to my voice.”Jiang Cheng licks his lips. “If… if you want me to listen, tell me something interesting then.”Lan Xichen snorts, grinning when his husband’s mouth twitches moments before he closes his eyes. Something interesting, huh? The ash is falling more heavily now, coating everything in murky grey and brown. As he looks down at the water, he thinks to himself, Jiang Cheng may have walked from one end of paradise to the other. But that distance wasn’t really that far, was it?If he had the choice, he would have crossed miles, going through whole decades of precious memories to reach him. There should have been more. Lan Xichen glances over at the stone table sinking below the water, the pavilion framed by the blood-red sunset. If he could have had it, there would have been as many moments of happiness as there were stars in the sky. “Alright, did you know that… two years ago was not the first time I’ve seen you lose your temper in a Guanyin temple?” he asks, calmly stroking back Jiang Cheng’s hair. “It was here. Yes, right here. Right above us, there’s a temple not seen in your memories. But here is where we met in our childhood.”Jiang Cheng’s brows pinch together. “What?”“Ah, maybe you were too young to remember. Let me remind you then. I was just passing through Yunmeng’s borderlands when I heard that a child had gone missing. ‘The Young Master is lost!’ they kept crying, over and over. When I realised who it was they were searching for, I immediately went looking for him myself—”“No,” Jiang Cheng gasps.Lan Xichen’s smile widens. “Yes.” “No… but I told you, that didn’t happen!”“But it did! Lady Meng can confirm this for us, right?” Lan Xichen gives the old woman his best smile, and she winks at him in return. “See? Lans don’t lie. You said so yourself, and I’m telling you, it happened.”Despite Jiang Cheng’s protests, there’s a spark in his eyes showing his amusement. It’s these little things that Lan Xichen looks for, because even if Jiang Cheng wants to be forgotten, at the same time he can hear a little voice begging, remember me. And he does. Sometimes, we think we want to disappear when all we really want is to be seen. Lan Xichen cups his face, grinning when Jiang Cheng continues to mutter darkly under his breath.“There was a little boy who ran away and ended up lost in the mountains, and when he came back, he told everyone he went out looking for fairies—”Jiang Cheng shoves at him. “No, no! Shut up! What are you even saying?!”“But it’s true! I went searching for you in the mountains,” he insists, laughing loudly when Jiang Cheng continues slapping at him. “And when I found you there, you were busy kicking Guanyin’s statue because you were… upset.” Here, Lan Xichen’s laughter dies a quick death. “You were crying because you couldn’t bear to watch your family suffer any longer.”
(It’s not fair. I just want all of us to stay together. Aren’t people supposed to like each other if they marry? A-Niang said it’s the most important reason—)
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Lan Xichen mutters, running a hand over Jiang Cheng’s hunched shoulders. “You were just a child, A-Cheng. You were so young, but already with the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ll never forget how bitterly you wept, and so I held you, not knowing what else I could do.”After a moment, Jiang Cheng turns around to press his face against his chest.
(No one alive remembers me. Not that there’s much to remember.)
It’s like something falls into place.
(If there was anyone you could ask who could tell you what I was like as a child, the word they would choose would probably be… unremarkable.)
Lan Xichen blinks rapidly before shutting his eyes, rocking them gently side-to-side. “You made a wish for your family to be happy,” he tells him, “Because if they were happy, you’d be happy. Then, you wanted your sister to always cook you her soup. And you wanted more dogs, and… you said you wanted to be important to someone.”Jiang Cheng hums quietly but says nothing.There’s no way he’s not noticed his heartbeat swelling like a rushing tide. There’s no way he’s misunderstood what he means. “You thought I was a fairy, and I let you believe that I was,” Lan Xichen says, causing him to jolt a bit at the change in topic, and then huff loudly. Good. Laughter comes again, filling the tender spaces in between with light. “That’s the first time I’d ever lied in my life.”Hearing this prompts Jiang Cheng to pull back a fraction and tilt his head as if to ask, are there other times? Of course he wants to know. Lan Xichen can’t resist kissing his forehead. Ever so curious. Ah, but they’ll laugh about those other times later. That’s a promise. There’s something else he has to say first.“Did you know,” he says, “That there was a time we met even before that one? You were really small back then. Your father brought you with him to a meeting, and you were not happy about it.” Once again, Jiang Cheng goes stiff in surprise. “Before meeting you, I didn’t know children were capable of making so much noise—”“What nonsense! As if you’d never been a child yourself!” Jiang Cheng sneers, his cheeks flushing even darker. If he really didn’t want to hear this, he would have hit him harder, Lan Xichen thinks. “I didn’t think you’d remember such a little thing.”“Well you asked for something interesting, and that’s the first time we met. It was a long time ago. You might not remember it, but I do.” Lan Xichen digs through his sleeve, half-expecting to find nothing, but a scrap of yellowed paper is pulled out. “At the time, I wasn’t to know how important you’d become to me.”Because that’s how it is, isn’t it? You’ll never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. Sometimes it’s in looking back that you’ll see the bigger picture, and sometimes you'll break your heart in the process, seeing what you left behind. For all the paths you could have taken, for all that you have given to bring you to this point, was it worth it? (Would you make the same choices? Would you do it all again?)Lan Xichen smooths the paper out carefully, smiling at the smudges left behind by such tiny hands. What even was this thing he painted for Jiang Cheng? It’s faded past recognition and lost to blurry time. What a shame. Even after they both kept this safe, in a bookshelf full of keepsakes, and here in the deepest recesses of his mind, it remains—“Lan Huan.”Jiang Cheng’s face is still wet with tears, but he’s watching him with so much fondness. Does he know that his smile lights up the gentlest rays of light in his life? That wherever they go from here, even if there’s no way to cast this darkness from his soul—“Sometimes, it feels like you’ve always been there. How long have we known each other?”—there will always be an imperishable light shining within them. Their names written on the sands of time. Their fates intertwined, between every collapse and creation, as they grow deeper roots and their souls sing of eternity.Everything falls away then. The world shatters a little, bending and breaking as it reaches down to envelop them. Leaving them with nothing but their breath, and that thing that was stirring in his chest before thrashes again, as if waking from a deep, deep sleep. At that moment, it’s impossible to tell where one of them ends and the other begins. Nothing but his breath, and this feeling, and a thought that echoes for miles. If I have always been there in his life, then he has always been in mine. Even before Nüwa formed us from dust, we were both there in the shadows, between the dawn and dusk, waiting to meet—“It’s impossible to say, isn’t it?”For a moment, he can only look at him in silence. Between the dawn and dusk, the distant stars and bleeding sun. Who is he to say what any of this means? With the taste of salt on his lips, he aches in the time it takes to remember how to speak.“I… I don’t know,” he admits, “I don’t remember every lifetime we’ve lived. Maybe if I thought more about it, I could tell you all the stories of all the other times that we’ve met. Maybe those would be more interesting tales. But even if there were so many of them, I only know of this one and it’s good enough for me.”Jiang Cheng refuses to look at him, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is it really enough?”With these quietly spoken words, Lan Xichen feels utterly overwhelmed. The way his chest aches and his eyes fill with tears, his voice cracking in the middle, “It’s always been enough. What we have might not seem like much to others, but to me it’s everything.”There’s a moment where he worries, has he said too much? Jiang Cheng’s expression is brittle, yet like stone. Solemn in a way that causes his mind to fly about in panic. Lan Xichen picks up the painting again, lifting it for them both to see. Jiang Cheng’s eyes flick down. “What's that?”“Exactly my thoughts. What is this?” he agrees, pursing his lips. “You kept splashing ink around, I remember. And then it spread everywhere because you wouldn’t stop grabbing things. Your hands were too small to hold the brush, so you asked me to draw this… this… what even is it?”“Two ducks.”Lan Xichen stares. That answer came so fast, and out of nowhere. “Is that right?”“I asked you to paint two of them because they shouldn’t be alone,” Jiang Cheng explains. “They both needed a friend.”“Yes… yes, that’s it!” The painting might not show much to support this, but there’s no doubt in his mind that this is true. Of all animals, two ducks. What are the chances? “All this time they were ducks, haha. I’m sorry I forgot that part. I was trying to calm you down. Ah, you were crying so much…”“You remember.” Jiang Cheng’s expression is unreadable, his shoulders rising and falling, heavy with each thought. “You remember me?”Lan Xichen smiles. “I do.”After a while, he glances at him. “Even that?”“Everything.”Around them, the wind sweeps past again sending ripples over the water, and they watch as the sun melts into the horizon. Jiang Cheng does not speak for a long time, but sits with his eyes shining as the last of the dying light scatters over them. “When you asked me if I remembered the battle, there’s something I didn’t tell you. Do you know the reason why I haven’t moved on?” Lan Xichen frowns, shaking his head.It’s been on his mind all this time, what has been holding him back from taking those last few steps? Was he waiting, or was he simply unable to move on? Lan Xichen assumed that Jiang Cheng was making his way across the bridge, his choice already made, but then something stopped him in his tracks. What brought him to his knees? What left him there?“The last thing I remember is seeing you falling,” Jiang Cheng tells him, eyes sliding shut. “You crashed into the rocks, and when I looked you weren’t moving. Then the dragon came, and I tried to chase it away. There was barely any time to react when it went after Jin Ling. After that, all I heard was screaming, and then nothing.”Lan Xichen’s mind stutters in shock. “That was the last thing you saw?”Jiang Cheng nods. “First you, then him.”But does that mean he doesn’t remember them talking afterwards? If the last thing he saw was Lan Xichen being thrown down, and the dragon going after Jin Ling, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the underworld… (How can I possibly forget all of my mistakes? Didn’t the last one get me killed? And now that I’ve failed him)—oh no.Lan Xichen can’t imagine what it would do to Jiang Cheng if that had really happened, because if Jin Ling had died, it would have destroyed him. What it’s already done to him is bad enough. What else could stop him, other than the fear of crossing the bridge and finding his nephew on the other side? Alright, so that part makes sense, but the other part doesn’t. Why would Jiang Cheng assume he’d died? Sometimes fear exaggerates things, but surely he knows he doesn’t have to worry about him so much anymore. Now that he’s a god, he could be torn apart, cut up into a thousand pieces and still not die. Crashing into a pile of rocks was nothing—“There are other ways of losing you,” Jiang Cheng says quietly. “As I walked further, the past clung onto me tighter, beating inside me like a second heart, and I thought… how can I bear to lose you again? You might not die, but you could be taken away again. They are determined to keep us apart, and there’s nowhere we can go where they can’t find us.”Lan Xichen recalls Zhinü told him about Lan An’s fate. (When I was taken away, my husband blamed himself. As time passed, so he retreated in shame.) That’s when he understands.This was not a ‘what-if’ possibility that Jiang Cheng was dreading. This was him recognising that they couldn’t avoid the inevitable repeat of this someday. What would it cost them next time? Would the price be higher? Whether in this life or the next, he saw that there was no escape from this, and could not bring himself to take another step in either direction. There’s a difference between giving up and knowing when you’ve had enough.“How many times must I lose you? How am I supposed to live without you? Why must the people I care about suffer so much? Is it my fault?” Jiang Cheng drags a hand over his face. “Why is it that I’m always the one left behind? Why must it always be me?”There’s something here that forces him back into that cold, dark place when he first heard about Jiang Cheng’s sacrifice. Losses upon losses, the grief of learning what was given and the strength it took to give it. More than that, he really lost everyone he loved, but please—his love is not a curse. Don’t let him believe that. Please.Don’t call him brave for persevering. Don’t thank him for always being there. Don’t expect that he always will be around. Don’t assume it was easy for him to keep on going. Some people endure terrible losses, and they could tell the tale of their suffering, but they never do. Therein lie many sorrows, for living where others haven’t. Don’t praise him for surviving where he should have lived. That’s the problem with being strong. No one asks if you’re hurting, or if you need help. And if you smile, even when you’re sad, no one asks if you’re alright. No one will know any different. He glances down at the painting of two ducks again—(because they shouldn’t be alone; they both needed a friend.)Lan Xichen swallows the lump that rises in his throat. “I don’t know. But for what it’s worth, I don’t plan on leaving you ever again. I’ve made promises that I intend to keep. All my plans include you. And my life, which I would live by your side.”Jiang Cheng nods a few times, smiling sadly. “Lan Huan, I… I’m so tired.”As soon as the words are out, he remembers that he found him sitting on the bridge. There was a time when he fell down and couldn't get back up. (Walking any path is difficult, but walking it alone? I can only imagine that by now that his soul must be weary.) “Oh darling, I know…” Where there is love there is joy, but also pain. Lan Xichen welcomes it, with every beat of his heart. “I know you are. Of course you are. Come here.”“You asked what I wanted,” Jiang Cheng croaks out, muffled against his chest. “I want to go home.”Lan Xichen pulls him into his arms, burying his face in his neck and breathing in the scent of him. I want to go home, he hears him whisper again and again, and he sweeps him into an embrace right then and there, wrapping his arms around him, afraid to let go. It’s quite a while until he can bring himself to even consider letting him go, the mere thought of separating again unbearable. Jiang Cheng eventually pushes him away though, and so he gives him some space.Somehow, his heart flutters when he sees him lift a trembling hand to pour away the tea, watching it spill into the water. Gone forever. Good riddance. “This would’ve been m-much more difficult with wine,” Jiang Cheng rasps, startling a laugh out of him. “Wh… What are you doing?”Lan Xichen presses a kiss to his cheek before turning around to face the other way. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m offering you my back. You said you were tired. How else are we getting home?”A minute passes, and then, “You must be kidding.”“Not at all. You carried me in the snow when I was too tired to walk. What are you making that face for, hm? Don’t tell me you’re still worried about my back? They’re only scratches, A-Cheng—”“B-But I… I never said anything about your back?!”“Then what are you waiting for? Hop on.” Lan Xichen rolls his shoulders back. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. You taught me not to feel ashamed for needing help. Now, are you going to make me kneel all day or can we get going?”Jiang Cheng huffs loudly, and then… ah, it’s strange. What he notices immediately are his hands caressing over his shoulders, and the moment his arms wrap around his chest, and his feet lifting off the ground. Lan Xichen bites his lip, feeling the weight he’s been carrying all this time; it’s as if his soul is as heavy as the Earth itself. When he stands he keeps his movements careful and slow, because it’s as if he is carrying the world (and perhaps in a way, he is). Having him there though, holding and being held by him, it’s as if the weight has been cut in half. Jiang Cheng tips his head against his shoulder, both ankles knocking into his thighs. For some reason, it’s then that he blurts out, “Jin Ling is fine, by the way,” and then he pauses briefly, not knowing what he should say except, “You don’t have to worry.”“I know that. Otherwise, you would have told me sooner. Actually, if I listen closely, I can even hear him…” The sound comes through the veil of death, or from wherever Jin Ling is. Jiang Cheng will always recognise the noise he used to listen for in his sleep. “…crying? He’s crying.”“He’s waiting for you,” Lan Xichen says, and each following step comes faster. If he was eager to bring his husband home, now he’s suddenly filled with even more excitement to return him to his nephew. “He was so brave. You should have seen him. Did you know, he was ready to kill the dragon? He punched him hard enough that he spit blood.”Jiang Cheng’s fingers curl against his throat. Everyone knows Jin Ling is important to him, but Lan Xichen knows differently what he means to him. That boy is his greatest love, his guiding light. (I want us to live our lives separately, but for my path and your path to never be too far apart.) “But… he doesn’t need me anymore.”“Mm. I think he’d disagree with you there.” Lan Xichen adds cheerfully, “Now that I think about it, he’s going to be so angry with you—” “Have we done this before?” Jiang Cheng demands, quickly redirecting their attention elsewhere as he blinks away more tears. What a shock it must be to think his nephew almost killed a god, and to think what awaits him ahead. “You carrying me like this. Why does it feel so familiar?”“Well, I had to carry you back to your father after our first meeting. Maybe that’s what you’re remembering?” Lan Xichen shifts him higher on his back. “All you wanted back then was to go back home. In that sense, you’ve not changed at all—”Jiang Cheng scoffs, tweaking his earlobe. “Your memory is wasted on such things.”Lan Xichen shakes his head, laughing in pure delight because he couldn’t be more wrong. “Ah, you,” he says quietly, still smiling. “You are… you’ve always known what was important. You’ve always been good. I promise you’re enough.”Because it’s with these things—with a love so ordinary and a past so unremarkable, that they found each other. Where has the fear gone where it once bared its teeth? What seemed impossible before has become as simple now as walking back towards the light, and it’s such a gentle sun that shines upon them now. There are two figures ahead growing bigger the closer they come to the docks. Lan Xichen falters a little when Jiang Cheng squirms around and tugs at his collar. “Tell him to stop looking at me.”Lan Xichen raises his brows, even more entertained by this. How can these two still be struggling to get along? How nostalgic, to be carrying Jiang Cheng on his way back to meet with his brother, who is incidentally the only one watching their approach. There is the faintest curve on Wangji’s lips. “Tell him yourself.”Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to speak, but then, his timing was never good. What luck. Lan Wangji glances away at the exact same moment that Wei Wuxian turns his head to look. What fucking luck. “Oh my god, not you.”Wei Wuxian’s face lights up immediately, with a smile he’d recognise anywhere. The Second Jade is then slapped repeatedly in his excitement. Jiang Cheng groans in despair, seeing the fool jump up and down, waving his arms around like an imbecile. Unfortunately, he isn’t far away enough that he can avoid hearing him shouting his name. Like a lunatic.Jiang Cheng scowls. “Fuck off.”Lan Xichen tuts, patting his leg. “Stop hissing, he’s just happy to see you.” At this, he grudgingly falls quiet, turning his face towards the breeze. “I’m not surprised you’re so tired, my love. We’ve come a long way, but don’t worry. We’re almost there now.”“Lan Huan,” he says.“Yes?”That’s when he sees Wei Wuxian’s mouth slacken, and there’s a brief swell of pressure, and then all of the blood drains out of Wangji’s face. Staring blankly at them, Lan Xichen crosses the remainder of the bridge. He pauses on the last step, startled when the weight on his back disappears. That’s when sound comes rushing back.“—id he go? Did you see it?” Wei Wuxian grabs him urgently, and Lan Xichen can only stumble forwards. “He was right there! Then a flash of light, and he’s gone? What the fuck?!”Lan Xichen cannot understand. A flash of light?“Remember, this was his soul,” he distantly hears his brother say, against this rush of panic. “And this bridge—the bridge is a threshold. It presents a choice: to cross, or not to cross? What if he made his choice?”These words should spark something in him, but he turns to look back where he came, where Jiang Cheng was, and then he glances upwards. A flash of light. Lan Xichen isn’t sure why, but he suddenly feels so calm. The stars are glittering above them, the Heavenly River flows in a steady stream, splitting the sky in half. And somehow, he knows.“Yes, he made his choice, but did he have to leave like that? Making such a fuss. It’s the same with his cooking. Ah, that boy.” Meng Po clicks her tongue, coming to stand by him. “What’s the problem, Zewu-Jun? You can fly now, can’t you? Go after him then. Don’t keep him waiting.”The stars. The river. The light.Lan Xichen twists just in time for a dragonfly to zip past. He tracks its movements as it flies higher and higher, floating up towards the moon. Unlike the River, the love-light gleams from there as placidly as a lake, even with that creature skirting across the universe like a streak of lightning—Oh, is that what that was, then? Lightning that left behind shooting stars? How beautiful. That must be him then. Lan Xichen waits, and surely enough, an echoing rumble of thunder that climbs out of his throat. (There are two stars up there separated by the Heavenly River. Every year on the seventh day of the seventh month, they reach their closest point…)Perhaps the time has finally come for them to meet again.Lan Xichen glances back one last time. Beyond the long wooden pier, there is the bridge they were standing on, that rises up into billowing clouds. That cannot be the Bridge of Helplessness. It seems far too hopeful, far too lustrous. The bridge is so brightly silver that the moon pales in comparison. Shining like a polished blade, or a dove’s wings thrown open mid-flight.Even on Earth, this type of sky at twilight often has the clouds dyed a deep purple. With this one, however, it’s hard to tell whether it’s sunrise or sunset, but he’d like to think that something was waking up. What a marvel it is that even in this lowly realm, a sight like this could be so beautiful.“Fuck this. Fuck you. Someone better explain to me what the fuck is going on, or I swear—”—before Wei Wuxian can say anything else, he grabs him and Wangji and leaps up into the sky.They return through the cave pool.As they rise from the water, the noise bouncing off the rock walls is deafening. Lan Xichen flicks his finger, and all of the boys are silenced. The pitch of their muffled shouts changes when they notice them, and that’s when he notices why they are so distressed. Even though he is calm, he has to bite back a laugh when he sees Jin Ling kicking the statue.“He’s gone,” Wei Wuxian says again, this time slightly less outraged and more thoughtful. Indeed, Jiang Cheng’s body is nowhere to be seen. He cups his chin, “But where has he gone?”“Good question.”That voice turns all of their heads.Lan Xichen presses his palms together. “Amitabha, Guanshiyin. You heard this ruckus, I presume?”There is a low chuckle, and then Guanyin emerges from the shadows as a man dressed in rags, and he smiles. “Well, I am restored now, so yes. I certainly heard their cries. But come now, there’s no need for tears. Children, what type of person disappears without a trace? You’ve seen it happen before.”Silence.Then, the excitement this brings.It’s almost joyous, but then Guanyin says, “Alright, alright. There’s reason to celebrate yes, but this is not the same as what you saw previously. It cannot be the same. Everyone’s path is different, and I’ve said before that his path has never been clear. Be patient. He’s still finding his way.”Even with these words, Lan Xichen has every confidence then that everything will be alright. Wherever he goes, whatever he chooses. Every step from this point on will be leading them somewhere new, and that’s the most important thing. The world will be safe in his hands, and his heart along with it.“Zewu-Jun.” The fact Jin Ling can speak at all is impressive. Lan Xichen wonders if his smile can be misunderstood, but then the boy’s face lights up. “He’s back? Where is he?”“The moment he heard you crying, he couldn’t wait any longer,” he says warmly, kneeling to check his foot. Jin Ling wobbles in surprise, muttering that he’s not hurt. These two. He can’t help but laugh. “Maybe I was taking too long bringing him back. Your uncle really doesn’t believe in wasting time.” Jin Ling’s face has gone quite red. Heard him crying?! Despite this, he frowns. “Then what are you fussing over me for? Let’s go!”“Yes, but go where?” Wei Wuxian repeats, glancing between him and Guanyin. “Any more clues, or are we just guessing?”Lan Xichen stands up. “The sun is rising.”The clouds are reflecting all sorts of colours, but his eyes drift across the purple light of dawn to the stars. The Heavenly River. Where could Jiang Cheng’s soul have gone to? Where is his body? The answer is here somewhere. They’ve been given enough clues. “Jiang Wanyin is a man of his word, more than anything,” Guanyin says. “If he has said he’ll meet you somewhere, that’s where he’ll be. It’s as simple as that.”A man of his word.“Do you remember what he has written?” Neither the paper nor the ink matters. What matters is what he has spoken to your heart, which can neither be lost nor destroyed—(of course he remembers, but they have written so many things to each other)—that poem he wrote for you, do you still have it? Oh.
Let destiny be written by one’s own ink.
It was a rather long poem, but the parts most smudged with tears (and wine) come to mind. Stained with ink-blots, clumsy yet so sincere. That’s when his heart broke free. Beautiful. So bittersweet. Sweet love shining, hidden like a pearl in a shell—The moon reflected in the water. Hoarfrost on the ground. Home.Again, he thinks, oh, and without saying another word, he takes flight. The others will follow behind. What a feeling it is to soar up into the clouds, and to find that instead of falling in love, he is rising with it. The warmth of the sun in his bones, the music of his soul quivering in delight. There is something moving through the rivers. It starts from a mountain stream, a tiny trickle of water feeding into a larger river, then journeying downwards towards the shore, sliding across the lands like a snake—With no more snow falling, he thinks to himself, if the night is winter then the morning must be spring. Lan Xichen looks down below. When the lakes are clear like this, the sky is endless. It’s impossible to tell where the Heavens stop and the Earth begins, it’s so beautiful… and yet, he keeps scanning the water.
(The dragon flies with broken wings, they hunt around the lotus pond—)
Sometimes, if you want something you’ve never had, you have to do something you’ve never done. That goes without saying. That’s what they’ve been doing all along. In that case, should this not be easier by now? Some might say yes, but the unknown is never easy. Believe in him as he has always believed in you. Well, that one is easy enough. When you know what it is to love, that one becomes effortless.
(—though small, and irritating things, the lotuses are rather fond.)
Lan Xichen can’t help laughing, because whilst he knows this poem might sound silly to others, he truly meant it when he said he knows every word by heart… but did Jiang Cheng know back then? Did he have any idea that all this time, he was writing their story? As he mulls over this, it occurs to him that they won’t have to go all the way out to the shore. After all, those waters aren’t Jiang Cheng’s waters. Thank goodness for that. And… there—there appears to be a… what seems to be a cloud, hovering over the water?It’s only when they get closer that he realises, it’s not a cloud at all but a swarm of dragonflies that ripple through the air, sparkling over the water. Lan Xichen’s heart grows heavy in his chest, and his eyes burn as he stares out into the horizon. He can’t see what’s beyond it, but he can feel it.And then, he sees it.At first, he isn’t sure what he’s seeing. There are… things rising out of the water, but then, they are among the infamous waters of Yunmeng. What else could they be but lotuses? This is not their season, but there are not just a few, but hundreds—no, thousands of them, blooming in the dead of winter. It’s as if the stars decided that Heaven wasn’t enough. Lan Xichen is amazed to see them fill the whole lake, unable to pull his eyes away from such a sight.There is one he’s still waiting for. Where is he? Wait, a pearl? Mother told him, pearls don't lie on the seashore, my son. If you want to find one, you must dive for it. “Wanyin! Where are you?” he calls out, and then something hits his cheek, a droplet of water. Is that rain or is he crying again? Dive for it. Alright then. Not a problem. “Wanyi—urk!”In his hurry, he forgot how cold the water would be, and so the breath is knocked right out of him and he ends up falling completely underwater. These frozen waters have been stirred up by something that’s left mud and sand swirling about. Lan Xichen is about to summon light to his hand, but then something shoots past him. Then another. And another. Dragonflies. They’ve come to guide him, each of them giving off a flicker of light, but it’s still too dark. Lan Xichen sweeps his arms through the water, sending out a few pulses of energy too. Then something grabs him, startling him badly enough that he gulps down a mouthful of mud.When he resurfaces, he is not alone.Lan Xichen opens his eyes, and there he is—there he is, coughing up water, his hair plastered to his face. Jiang Cheng climbs up onto his shoulders, clinging to him and shivering hard enough to rattle his teeth. Finally, he settles down, and then… “Lan Huan?”“Yes, I’m here.” Lan Xichen watches the emotions flit across his face, and it feels like his chest might burst open from how hard his heart is hammering against his ribs. This is what he’s been waiting for, and he laughs out of sheer relief, swinging him up into the air. “You did it!”Jiang Cheng’s mouth opens and closes. “I… I did what?”Lan Xichen pulls him down into a hug, and he knows his laughter is tinged with madness, but Jiang Cheng only huddles closer, pressing his face into his neck. It’s so bitterly cold that he can’t stop hissing and clutching onto him for warmth. Then he realises he’s back, and not back just anywhere—“My love, you came back. You came home.” Lan Xichen tightens his arms, closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. Who knew that the longest journey would be coming back home? When he opens his eyes, Jiang Cheng is smiling at him like summer. “I am so proud of you.”Jiang Cheng stares at him for a moment. Then, “Y-You—oh, it’s…" The smile drops off his face and he glares up through his lashes. "It’s raining. Why does it always rain when I’m with you?” He couldn’t tell before, because they’re wet. Everything is wet. “Lan Huan, it’s so f-f-fucking c-cold. Ugh, seriously wha—mmph!”Lan Xichen moves fast, crushing their mouths together and swallowing his squawks of surprise. The rain is warm on their skin. Jiang Cheng’s eyes flutter shut and he throws his arms around his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. The taste of mud, and salt, and blood. It shouldn’t be so sweet. They part for a breath, and then Jiang Cheng finds himself being showered in more kisses.Then there is a loud splash.The chime of a bell.“Slow? Ha! What fucking ‘slow’?! You left without saying anything and flew so fast, all we could see was your fucking tail!!” Jin Ling swims over, his cheeks puffing out angrily. After tossing Sandu aside, he flings himself at his uncle, sending both of them crashing into the water. Lan Xichen bursts out laughing, nearly falling over himself. Jiang Cheng splutters but recovers quickly. “What fucking tail?”“Shut up!”“Shut up? How dare you—”“Jiujiu, I’m sorry,” Jin Ling wails suddenly, squeezing him hard enough that he wheezes. Jiang Cheng’s hand instinctively goes to cradle the back of his head, and when Jin Ling feels that, he lets out another sob. Who cares if Zewu-Jun is watching him bawling his eyes out? He fucking took off like that! Seriously! “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”“Shhh.” Jiang Cheng rests his chin on his head and manages to catch his husband’s eye again. Right then, he understands. This here is the reason he came back. “You’re alright now—”“—but that was really stupid of you. Don’t ever do that again.” Jin Ling’s teary-eyed glare is as good as a two-hour scolding. Even though more tears roll down his cheeks, he calms him down enough to whisper, “Jiujiu, I missed you so much. Don’t make me carry your sword again. Please, I can’t.”Jiang Cheng’s composure finally breaks, and he presses a kiss to his temple. “I missed you too, Jin Ling.”
Splash!
“Jiang Cheng!” Oh, fucking hell. Not now.“Jiang Cheng, do you see that?! Look!! Look at all of these lotuse—”“Do I see that?! Of course, I fucking see it!! Shut up already!!”There’s no time for Jiang Cheng to dodge when Wei Wuxian lunges at him, and just like that, he ends up falling back into the water. They wrestle their way back to the surface, and then Jiang Cheng immediately dunks him under again. After a few more splashes, the rest of the group arrives just in time to see this. None of them knows what to do, and no one is really sure where they should look either.The only one still standing on his sword is Lan Wangji, who nearly shocks the life out of him again when he gives him the tiniest smile. “I’m drowning him,” Jiang Cheng tells him. “Don’t even try and stop me.”Lan Wangji merely huffs in amusement, his eyes dancing.“Does that mean it’s over?” Who gets to decide when something is over? There are still so many things that need to be sorted out. What’s to come of his orders in Heaven? What about the outcome of the wager? Their responsibilities to their sects… all of this awaits them, and yet Lan Xichen admires the brightness of the rosy skies, and eventually turns to find Jiang Cheng watching him. With his starlight eyes and skin painted golden, he’s as radiant as the dawn itself.Lan Xichen draws in a slow breath. “As for the others, I cannot speak for them. But in our case, it’s only over when we say it is. We’ll decide for ourselves when we’re done,” he says softly, seeing only him and nothing else. “This time is ours now. Let’s make the most of it.”Something might have come to an end.At the same time, another day begins.
Thank the rain for the flowers~
~~~
~The lotus springs from the mud.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love; it will not lead you astray. ”
— Rumi
As they walk further into the mountain, the cavernous space rings with each of their footsteps. This place is exactly as Lan Xichen described it, and as close to what he can remember from his own memories. From the glowing pool at the centre, to the water trickling down through the ceiling, to the smiling Goddess carved into the rock. Jiang Cheng carefully sets down a basket of fruit and flowers. It’s not much, but they gathered what they could. There are six persimmons and a sprig of plum blossoms, the petals not yet fully opened. Firstly, they bow and pray with incense, and then they kneel together. The last of their offerings include two plump lotus buds, both of which bloom the moment they’re laid at Guanyin’s feet. Lan Xichen’s lips part at the sight, and when their eyes meet, he smiles. “With you, my heart is like a flower in full bloom.”[1]“A flower which blooms in the dead of winter,” Jiang Cheng mutters, flicking some snow off the blushing petals. When he notices the scuff marks on the hem of Guanyin’s statue’s robes, he can’t help smirking. “Did you say that Jin Ling kicked Guanyin's statue too?”Lan Xichen grins, laughing softly. “Yes, he kicked her just like you did.”Jiang Cheng snorts, shaking his head as he turns to take in their surroundings with no small amount of wonder. What are the chances they’d find themselves back here again? The past and the future are alive here. With each inhale of incense smoke, the memories blur in his eyes, and he finds himself blinking back tears. Everything they’ve been through may be down to the choices they made, but he can’t deny that fate also brought them here.“Forgive us, Guanyin.” Jiang Cheng bows his head. “It might be a bit strange offering these flowers together, but nothing else was available. Things are quite scarce this time of year, so please enjoy the fruits and uh… and thank you, for everything.” “Do you still hate her?”The question is spoken jokingly, but Jiang Cheng shoots him a warning look. Then he thinks it over carefully. Does he still hate Guanyin? “No,” he admits, “But then again, I don’t think I ever really did.” After a moment, he pats Lan Xichen’s knee. “Let’s go.”Leaving the cave, he barely manages to catch the glint in his husband’s eye before his hand is seized and he’s suddenly dragged forwards. For a split second, Jiang Cheng wonders if this is what Zidian feels like when that forceful tug nearly dislocates his arm from its socket. They start walking at a brisk pace, but then Lan Xichen starts pulling him along even more urgently.Then… they’re running? Wait, why are they running? Running this fast down a mountain when it's this icy is so stupid! They’re going to fall!! What the hell?!Jiang Cheng is about to complain, but then the sight of Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon fluttering in the wind stops him. Every time that man peeks over his shoulder, it stirs something in his heart. The flash of his white teeth curved in a smile, the hand wrapped around his, squeezing it tightly. I need to find that little boy. Will you help me find him? Oh.Oh, it occurs to him then, what they’re doing—“—ah! Why?! Lan Huan, do we really have to recreate every childhood memory?!” Even as he yells at him, he’s trying his best not to laugh between gasping breaths as they splash through muddy puddles. This is so stupid. Completely ridiculous. “Hey, Huan-gē! Are you listening?! SLOW DOWN!!”“You said ‘let’s go’!” Lan Xichen calls, catching him when he stumbles. They’re practically flying on their feet. Their legs are much longer now, eating up the miles without any effort. “Come on then, let’s go!”There are no wildflowers to pick this time, no grassy fields rippling in the breeze. The rest of the world is fast asleep in midwinter. Jiang Cheng’s ribs ache as the frosty air burns in his lungs, and there is a dull pain where the dragon pierced his side. Since the wound was inflicted by a deity, it will take time to heal and is therefore still quite tender. What a literal pain.Jiang Cheng is wheezing pitifully by the time they reach the rice fields, and leans heavily against Lan Xichen’s shoulder for a moment to catch his breath. He punches him twice in the arm. Smack! “You asshole!” Smack! “I can’t believe you! Hey, are you—oh.”When he looks around, the scene he’s met with steals his breath, causing his next words to catch in his throat. He almost starts coughing again. What a sight though! All around them, the frozen lakes are ablaze with the setting sun, but more than that… this place is familiar, and where they’re standing right now. Isn’t it—“It was here, wasn’t it?” Lan Xichen walks in a circle and stops, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Yes, it was here. This was the last place I saw you after bringing you back to your sister…”Jiang Cheng’s heart aches suddenly. That’s right. This is the place where they separated, and it… it was even around this time of day, wasn’t it? The sunset brings back such vivid memories that he can hardly bear to remember. In his mind’s eye, he sees a little girl pacing up and down the field. He picked her the prettiest flowers he could find. The moment she noticed him, her face turned red and she shrieked ‘A-Cheng!’ like her heart was breaking. He remembers throwing himself into her arms, but when he turned to say goodbye to his friend… he was already gone.Lan Xichen is staring ahead, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.Without looking, he reels Jiang Cheng in by the hand, wrapping him up in a warm embrace, and that’s exactly what he needs right then because… A-Jie. Why is it that even after so many years, it still hurts to think of her? She may have missed him then, but he has missed her ever since, and if there's anything he knows it's that he will never stop wishing she was around.Sometimes, it’s painful to hold onto memories. Even the good ones that make you laugh, the ones that bring you joy. Sometimes, they’re the ones that hurt the most. It haunts him that this was the place where he first met Lan Xichen, but it's also the place where he tried to run away from his family.“You know,” he says haltingly, “This might be the place where I realised that my family wasn’t right. It took me some time to see that it was broken, but once I did I knew things would never be alright. Still, I didn’t want to accept that, because… I couldn’t bear to, because how could I? They were my family and… and I—”Lan Xichen presses his lips to his forehead and stands there holding him.“It was broken,” his voice cracks, “And I didn’t know how to fix it, or what I could do. A-Niang didn’t smile anymore, not even for me or my sister. A-Die was never home, and even when he was around, he… he wasn’t. When they sent us here, I was angry.” His laughter chokes him. “I was so angry. I didn’t want to go back home.”“Because you were afraid?”“Maybe? Or perhaps I thought…” There’s no point saying what he thought. Lan Xichen already knows it. Even back then he often wondered, was it him? Could it be that he was the reason his family was falling apart? “When we returned home Wei Wuxian was there, and my dogs had already been sent away.” Smiling bitterly, “So you see, those problems were there even before he arrived.”That’s not entirely true.Whilst the existing tension built up like steam trapped in a valve, Wei Wuxian’s entry into his life was undoubtedly far from painless. Being forced to share his space with another child had been difficult. He was already struggling to cope with having to adjust to so many sudden changes. The fact that he was so crippled by the strain of his parents’ disagreements made it even more difficult when he saw where that left him.Where did all of their love go? What happened to them? In a way, Jiang Cheng lost his parents too, long before they died. Even if they were technically alive at the time, he lost the way they loved him because they never tried to reclaim that bond. Instead of them being cherished in memory like Wei Wuxian’s parents were… his father barely tolerated him, and his mother looked at him with such disdain— Lan Xichen’s arms tighten around his waist. “You were so young.”Jiang Cheng glances up at him. “And what were you? An old man? We were both young.”The wind sweeps Lan Xichen’s hair back, wafting sweet mint and sandalwood into the air. As Jiang Cheng inhales deeply, licking his lips he tastes salt and blood. With the day coming to an end, their time here is also drawing to a close. It’s strange finally being able to say goodbye to these old feelings. Part of him almost wishes he didn’t have to.“Maybe in their next lives, my parents will find the ones they were meant to be with,” he says quietly, the thought accompanied by a few tears. One last wish for the dearly departed. No more will be shed. “Maybe someday they can find happiness.”“That would be good, or maybe,” Lan Xichen pauses. “Maybe in their next lives, the time will be right and they can find that happiness together?”Jiang Cheng smiles, wiping his face dry. “That would also be good.” After taking another slow breath, he looks around at their surroundings one last time, releasing that trapped feeling with a heavy sigh. They will come back in the summer. He’ll bring Lan Xichen with him to see if his pristine robes can survive the muddy task of transplanting rice seedlings. The washed-out sky will instead be cloudless and bright blue, and they’ll—“What on earth are we supposed to do with all of these lotuses?” Waving a hand around, he bursts out, “How the hell did they even manage to reach this high in the hilltops? These are meant to be rice fields! This is really going to fuck with the harvest, isn’t it?”“The harvest?” That voice!“How is that your concern, young master? Since when were you a farmer?”Jiang Cheng immediately scowls upon hearing it, spinning around to glare at the Monkey King. “It is my concern, Hóuwáng, because last I checked it’s my responsibility to look after the people under my care—but what does that matter to you, ah? What are you even doing here?”Sun Wu Kong shrugs, casually biting into a persimmon.“I can go wherever I please.” (Wait a second, a persimmon? Jiang Cheng squints, but oh… oh, no he didn’t!) “I am quite puzzled though, why would you put the lotuses at the statue’s feet? The other offerings were fine, but you should’ve put those ones in the water.” Clicking his tongue, “Would’ve thought that the so-called ‘Master of Lotus Pier’ would know better. Especially regarding what to do with lotuses—”Jiang Cheng lifts Zidian in warning. “I certainly know what to do with you—!”“Wanyin!” Lan Xichen scolds, though there’s laughter in his voice as his chest knocks into his own. With such a person holding him captive, Jiang Cheng finds he doesn’t want to leave the circle of his arms. “Don't do that. Pay him no mind, he’s just teasing you.”“Well, he can fuck off! Can’t you see he’s eating Guanyin’s offerings? Are we supposed to just let him?!”Someone else answers: “Perhaps not. Whilst I appreciate your concern, I can’t say I’m that surprised by this. Whenever fruit is available, of course, this one will eat it. If you want to stop him, then… I wish you the best of luck.”There’s a ripple in the water that draws his eye, and soon he sees a reflection of the Goddess, and standing beside her is… that boy. Her dragon disciple, Yānlíng Dàoren. Is that him, then? He’s just a scrawny kid? No way. Despite his grudges, Jiang Cheng still has enough mind to bow his head to both gods. That’s all the respect he can manage with Lan Xichen holding onto him so tightly.They are so close together that when he speaks, his breath rustles Jiang Cheng’s hair: “Is it time?”Guanyin’s smile softens, and she gestures with her hand. “That depends on whether you’re ready.”Lan Xichen’s heart thuds, a spark of tension causing his grip to tighten. Jiang Cheng bears this without complaint, running a soothing hand up and down his back. There’s a moment when he wonders if he might stay. It’s almost unbearable to look at him with the sunset scattering golden beams across that jade-like face.“I’ll see you soon, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says, brushing his lips over the tip of Jiang Cheng’s nose, and trailing kisses over fluttering eyelashes. Then he’s pulled down into a proper kiss… one that forces his eyes closed when he feels Jiang Cheng move so insistently against him. “I’ll come back to you,” he whispers, “I promise.”“You promise?”“Yes, rest assured, your fairy will return to y—ah!” Lan Xichen narrowly dodges a smack, giggling when Jiang Cheng pinches his waist. Somehow, he manages to grab hold of his wrists and use them to pull him closer again. His smile wanes, “My love, can I trust you to look after yourself whilst I’m gone?”At first, there’s no answer. Then Jiang Cheng simply says, “Lan Huan,” stepping back and lifting his gaze with reddened eyes. Every movement is slow, his hands curling into fists at his sides, “Don’t keep me waiting.”“Maybe you should both stop talking if you don’t want to be kept waiting,” Sun Wu Kong suggests, plucking at his teeth. “The sooner we’re gone, the sooner we’ll return—”Guanyin manages to drag the Monkey King up to Heaven before Zidian can make contact. Yānlíng Dàoren gives his old Pearl a complicated look, but nods at Jiang Cheng and grips the bottom of his master’s robe, making a quick exit up into the sky. The whip cracks into empty space, and Jiang Cheng lets out a snarl when the monkey’s hooting laughter follows him all the way into the clouds.Lan Xichen catches his husband by the elbows, distracting him with another searing kiss. Jiang Cheng can’t think for a minute, and he doesn’t want to think either. Instead, he pushes forwards eagerly and opens his mouth, clutching onto his shoulders. Why must they part like this again? It should be enough to be with Lan Xichen and to have him here in his arms. He’ll be back soon, but how soon is ‘soon’ if these moments together pass in the blink of an eye, and moments apart seem to last forever?When gentle hands come to cup his face, he opens his eyes and he’s all alone. I’ll see you soon, Wanyin, he said. I’ll come back to you, I promise. This is not the first time he’s waited for someone to return, and he knows he can do it again. No matter how long it takes, he will always wait for him.Watching the sun sink below the horizon, it’s with this thought that the day finally reaches its end.
“Ah, so it’s done then.”There’s no one around, but Sun Wu Kong is used to talking to himself. Narrating the lives of others has become something of a hobby. Quite ironic, given that his own life is always hot gossip. For hours, he’s been lounging comfortably on a tree branch outside the palace, eating Guanyin’s offerings and watching the court proceedings through a conveniently placed window. With this being an official trial, the full Imperial Court has been summoned, making things quite clear that the previous meeting Lan Xichen attended had really been ‘off-the-books’. Compared to that one, this is very serious business. From his expression, Sun Wu Kong can see that realisation dawning on his face. Poor guy.This is his last persimmon, so he’s savouring every last bite, but then the doors swing open—and thank fuck for that! It’s been hours! He was almost bored to tears waiting!Sun Wu Kong sits up a little. Well, now.This is the first time in ages that he’s seen the Heavenly Daughter looking so… happy? So radiant? So inspired? Her eyes are sparkling, and she even turns to shoot him a quick smile. Hm, interesting. Whatever outcome has been decided, she’s heading straight for her loom like a woman possessed. That’s got to be a good sign, right? Good for her!“Tiān Gōng has gone to meditate in Ninth Heaven,” Guanyin announces, arriving suddenly below him. Secluded meditation, hm? Very interesting! Sun Wu Kong rolls off the branch to land on all fours. “The Court has asked me to maintain order in this heaven whilst the Emperor is currently… indisposed.”Sun Wu Kong whistles. “That bad, huh?”Instead of answering him, she raises her brows. “You seem pleased, Hóuwáng.” (Well, of course he’s pleased! Everyone and their dog knows how he feels about the Emperor!) “I’m glad to see that your own Journey gave you the compassion to help others. You’ve done a good thing here, my friend.”What the fuck?“What else could I do? It was to be expected that that controlling bastard would get his comeuppance in the end. How can such a person refuse to acknowledge the immensity of Heaven and Earth?[2] It was only a matter of time until his plan failed.”Guanyin meets his gaze steadily. “Isn’t it interesting that whilst things might be decided, so much of life depends on choice and chance? What motivates us? What is guiding us forwards? Zhinü may have the task of weaving the clouds separating Heaven and Earth, but it’s not for that reason that she remains so diligent with her work.”Indeed, Zhinü has always been passionate about weaving, and not long ago she left for her loom with a spring in her step… in that sense, it’s true that she never tires of her craft. Sun Wu Kong considers this, and then the fact that she’s only ever paused her weaving for one person.
What motivates us? What is guiding us forwards?
“It’s far less important to have Heaven and Earth be separated than it is to have a love that knows no bounds,” the Goddess says. “The world already knows itself just as each of us would someday know ourselves. It, therefore, needs no guidance. Tiān Gōng might be responsible for presiding over Heaven, and in that respect, his heart was in the right place. The problem comes with ‘matters of the heart’, in that—”“Father might know his own heart, but he doesn’t know mine.” Zhinü appears with a rustle of leaves. (What happened to weaving? Is she finished? That was fast!) “Not because I’ve hidden it from him, but because he refuses to accept that my place is no longer by his side… ah, my son, what are you doing over there? Are you waiting for an invitation? You can join us if you want. Come now, don’t be shy.”When Lan Xichen emerges, it’s with none of his usual grace. He barely manages to stop himself from toppling over, arms shooting out as he stumbles on his feet like a newborn lamb. “Oh!”Sun Wu Kong snorts.“Dàshèng,” he greets, bowing his head. “Thank you for your help.”Why is everyone thanking and praising him all of a sudden? The monkey scowls. “Excuse me? Didn’t you notice me laughing at you just now? That’s because you almost fell on your face. For fuck’s sake, have some pride! And what ‘help’? If you noticed, I didn’t even bother attending your court—”Lan Xichen smiles brightly. “Yes, precisely.”“…”“Thank you.”This… this child!“Look who’s suddenly got such a big mouth! Haha, you better watch yourself, young master!” Sun Wu Kong barks, slapping him on the back until he coughs. “Anyway, haven’t I told you before about flying? When you’re landing, you should always bend with the knees—”“Yes you have, but Hóuwáng, really… thank you for all that you’ve done.” Lan Xichen is so sincere in saying this, he can’t stand to look at him. “Without you, we might have never had this chance.”Sun Wu Kong forces himself to meet his eyes, taking in his serene expression. How can such a person as this exist? He’s truly a dragon among men. “Are you finished? Your husband is waiting.”Not even the mention of any name, yet Lan Xichen’s eyes light up at that reminder, and he shines with such happiness. Ugh, he’s almost tempted to slap him again, and so... he does. Twice. With his staff, on the backside. Lan Xichen merely laughs at this and scurries away to disappear into the clouds.After watching Zhinü escort him out, Sun Wu Kong turns his attention back to Guanyin. “What?”Shrugging, “I’m wondering if you’ll tell me, why did you choose to help these young masters on their quest?” (That’s none of her business, and yet… from the way she’s looking at him, she already knows the answer. What’s the point in asking then?) “You didn’t do it for Lan Xichen, did you?”No, he didn’t.“Perhaps for Jiang Wanyin?”That’s closer to the truth, but not quite all of it.“What was your reason then?” Guanyin waits only a little while before daring to ask, “You miss him, don’t you?”Sun Wu Kong bristles. “Who would miss that sad sack? That stick in the mud? You must be joking. That no-good, rotten… he was bald—”“He was your friend.”“Friend? No, I was his disciple,” he scoffs. “He was human. And we hated each other.”“You protected him and helped him through so many hardships. I can’t imagine going on such a long journey with someone would result in anything less than friendship or enmity.”Laughing coldly, “Yeah, well he’s gone now. Crossed the Golden Bridge. He made his choice never to return.”“He can’t return if he never left,” Guanyin reasons. “The Golden Bridge reunited his soul with the Pure Land, thus his destiny was to be freed from the endless cycle of this world. In that way, he now exists everywhere and nowhere at the same time.”“That, I think,” he says, “Is where enlightenment and I are opposed.”They sit for a moment. Neither of them is completely of the same mind, not that that’s a problem. Life and death are complicated enough, and having differing views complicates things even further. The destination and journey are never the same, since everyone’s path is different, yet somehow they all exist in this same world. That’s why they can sit in silence.What was his reason for helping these young masters? Sun Wu Kong thinks of his old master, Tang Sanzang. That foolish, insufferable monk who everyone wanted to eat, who doubted his judgement so many times on that silly quest… when a breeze blows past, bringing with it the scent of sandalwood, it might be his imagination, but the circlet around his head seems to tighten briefly.“Isn’t it funny that once upon a time, you would’ve been glad to be rid of him?”“Once, perhaps,” he replies, “Yes.”They sit for a while longer, waiting for the Heavenly Daughter to return.When she does, her expression is impossible to read. With a flick of her hand, she beckons them to follow her back to… the palace? Wait, but she never willingly goes there? How strange. Sun Wu Kong drops down to walk on all fours, his senses heightening as he reverts to his true monkey form.
What motivates us? What is guiding us forwards?
All throughout this adventure, he’s been following his instincts, guided by something he couldn’t fully grasp or make sense of… but walking along this path now, he feels like he’s uncovering some sort of hidden memory. Something that he has forgotten, or something he’s lost? It feels like he’s retracing his steps, and just like that—The memory tears itself open at the seams, sending him hurtling backwards into the past.
It was on a day like any other when he heard that Guanyin had come up to heaven for her annual report. The Goddess' presence always caused everyone to flock over, and he had no interest in fawning over her so he turned his attention elsewhere, ignoring all the talk going on about wagers and champions. Psh. None of his business. Not his concern.
That was why he’d been busy stealing fruit from Xīwángmǔ’s peach orchard when he saw a spear of light spilling across the ground. The sight was dazzling enough to catch his attention and remarkable enough to hold it. It was due to this that he decided to stow the peach in his sleeve to eat later, far more intrigued by this curiosity, because… where on earth was it coming from?
If it wasn’t the sun, nor the moon, nor any radiance from the stars that were giving off this light, where was its source?
Sun Wu Kong indulged himself and followed the light to—(the palace, where they are currently headed)—a corridor which he’d never been to before. After mulling it over, it occurred to him what it was he was seeing. This was a stream of pure spiritual energy flowing through their realm, so vibrant that it had become visible to his fiery-eyes! How fascinating!
Once he was done marvelling at this phenomenon, he lifted his eyes and found that he was not alone. Both the Lady Guanyin and the Emperor’s elusive daughter, Zhinü, were standing there already, their gazes fixed on a locked door. This door was also new to him, but Sun Wu Kong thought to himself, ‘what’s the big deal, ah?’ and went to join them without another word.
Where the light had gathered in front of them, there were two strands of it rising like ribbons of smoke, curling up into the air. At first, it was difficult to understand what they were seeing, but soon it became obvious from their long, rippling bodies, that they’d taken the form of two dragons—wait a minute, two dragons guarding a golden door?
Sun Wu Kong’s jaw dropped. “Wait, is that…”
At the very moment he realised the significance of what he was seeing, his mind felt as if it was about to explode. For a new door to have appeared in Heaven, something like this was almost unheard of… but ever has it been foretold that on the eve of the Jade Emperor’s reign, a Golden Door would open and light would pour out like rivers melted from the sun.[3]
(But it was said that the Jade Emperor would be succeeded by the Heavenly Master of the Dawn of Jade. It was said there would only be one Master though, unless—)
What did this mean?
There have been Dragon Emperors before, divine kings of men ruling on Earth for as long as there have been people to command, but despite the name, never have they risen above that station. The only monarchs who were both kings and dragons were the fierce Dragon Kings who reigned over the Four Seas.
In heaven though, dragons have only ever served His Majesty the same as every other being in the universe, which means that for two of them… for a mated pair to ascend the Throne—
“Who are they?”
The Weaver Goddess’ eyes flashed in warning, and not many things were powerful enough to force Sun Wu Kong into silence, but this time he bit his tongue. Even breaching the silence to ask what he’d asked had taken tremendous effort. She lifted a finger to her lips and he nodded, waiting for her to set up some talismans first.
“Who they are must be kept secret,” she said solemnly, once they were properly warded. “We need to give them every chance possible. Knowledge is the key, so we cannot let Father know about this.”
Guanyin spoke, “Part of him already knows, my lady. Surely you must have noticed a change in his behaviour. There is the simple fact that you were punished in the first place. Your father would rarely do such a thing before, but he is no longer thinking clearly.
"Often a person can sense when they’re in danger, even if they cannot identify the source for themselves. He felt a blade against his throat and decided to strike first.” She bowed her head. “What I saw in that child confirms what that 'threat' is. They are fated.”
Sun Wu Kong blinked in confusion.
But wasn’t this just about his retirement? Why would he feel so threatened by that? What even was this ‘blade’ he felt? Surely it couldn’t be Zhinü’s love for her husband? If not that, then… was it her children he was so afraid of?
“As if such a thing should challenge his very existence,” Zhinü scoffed bitterly, echoing his thoughts. “Everything needs to end sometime. Nothing can last forever. I would not expect Father to be so cruel, nor so… irrational about such a thing.”
“You forget that Tiān Gōng was once a mortal—an ordinary man with an extraordinary fate. There is that part of him that will always remain human, even if he has forgotten what that means. He is susceptible to mortal wants and fears the same as any man, and from those types of motivations come impulsive actions. He is afraid of losing himself amongst so many other things, including you.”
Zhinü’s eyes glistened, even as her gaze stood fierce. “But he will never lose me.”
“That may be so, but as far as the Emperor knows, he is fighting against an opponent unknown to him. Thus the whole world has become his enemy.”
Sun Wu Kong could sort of understand this. At one point in his life, he also feared his own death.
The difference was that this change wouldn’t kill Tiān Gōng, so… what was the big deal? Perhaps he could accept that such a fundamental change to the world and his place in it might be a bit frightening. Even so, if this was what the universe had decided, this was simply how it must be! It wasn’t as if this was a life or death situation—except, maybe it was a type of death, to be forced to move on from one life to another.
“In conclusion, he’s afraid and doesn’t know why.”
Did this mean him acting out and punishing his daughter was therefore a result of this misplaced anger? Was his insistence on keeping her bound to heaven him reacting to an unknown threat? Maybe none of this absolved him of his actions, but it did explain a lot, to think he was reacting on some level of self-defence. Sun Wu Kong wondered how Zhinü must have felt when she realised all of this.
Did it help to know the reasons behind everything or did it make it worse?
“Alright, so we obviously can’t let him know about this, but can we let ‘them’ know?” It was a valid concern since thoughts could be so easily stolen from a mortal’s mind. “Otherwise they’ll be going into this without any idea what’s happening. They’ll be at a disadvantage.”
Zhinü sighed. “Letting too many people know would be too risky. We need to trust that things will fall into place by themselves. Since Lan Huan has already been ‘chosen’,” she glanced at her fellow Goddess, “The timer is set. There’s no stopping this, now that it’s begun.”
Sun Wu Kong, “Fate, huh.”
“Yes fate, but… is it wise to leave so much to chance?” Guanyin asked, shaking her head a little. “Do you really believe they can do this?”
Zhinü smiled. “I do.”
“My lady, please. They’re good children, but this is a huge task, and they will suffer so much…”
Hearing this, Zhinü’s expression softened. “My friend, both you and your disciples have already been severely punished. How much more of this can we take? Father has decided that Lan Xichen is my champion. There’s no backing out of this, now that the rumours have spread. This is our last chance.”
After a moment, Guanyin lowered her gaze.
“So let me ask you again,” Zhinü raised trembling hands towards both of them (oh, him too?!), her golden eyes filled with tears, “What did you see?”
There was a blinding flash of light, and then—
“The Silver Bridge!”[4] is the first thing he says, gasping awake. “Which means it’s true… so they did it? They are ‘it’? It’s happening?!” If these two young masters defied the fate they were bound to by breaking the curse, thereby returning them to the path they were originally meant for, that means it’s over, doesn't it? “Holy shit, it's happening.”It was funny to think that all this time, the hand that was guiding him were fragments of his own memories. Despite the spell Zhinü cast on them, his bullish mind was far too stubborn to forget everything, compared to Guanyin’s compliance. What he managed to remember, what gave him confidence throughout this quest, was knowing that…
(Do you really believe they can do this?
I do.)
…this was always theirs, wasn’t it?Some might think it was due to their godblood that they were ‘chosen’ or that that was the only reason they were owed this divine inheritance, but no… it was because they were tested in each and every lifetime, and they failed and they failed until finally, they didn’t. Nothing was guaranteed, but this time around they found each other. They took a chance, and it made all the difference in the world.After being held by the curse for so long, they were brave enough to break their bonds, thus freeing themselves. It was only by trusting in each other, and by believing enough in a future that did not yet exist, and by taking that chance that they were able to break the cycle. Was it a mere coincidence that one of them was named the ‘First Jade’ of Gusu Lan whilst the other was left behind as the ‘last lotus’ of Yunmeng Jiang? The Heavenly Masters of the Dawn and Dusk, standing guard at that golden gateway, watching over that vulnerable time between day and night.These two young masters may have bowed to the Heavens and Earth together, but how were they to know that the Heavens and Earth would someday bow to them?Personally, the thought of this task sounds very much like trading one cage for another, but that might not be the case for them. Their life might not be one he’d willingly choose, but he can see that what used to crush them in duty, now fills them with honour and purpose. One could only hope that they’d grow to become wise and benevolent rulers someday. They were already doing well in that regard, gaining experience from leading their sects, but only time would tell.That left one last question: “But does Tiān Gōng accept this as his loss?”“That doesn’t matter,” Guanyin says, wiping her eyes. “Regardless of his feelings on what's happening, those two have managed to walk on the Silver Bridge, and that alone determines the course of their future. Once you step foot on such a path, there’s no remaining in place.”“And so it’s there that he’ll wait for him, upon the Silver Bridge.” Zhinü smiles, looking in the direction Lan Xichen went. “They have chosen their destiny, and when the time is right they will rise to meet it. On that day, they will finally cross that bridge together.”
At this time of the morning, it’s cold on the pier, but the fresh air is all that’s keeping Jiang Cheng awake. The night has been long and… difficult. He could hardly sleep. There is a stone in his stomach, a sigh that stubbornly remains trapped in his lungs. It’s not the worst feeling, or at least it’s not anything new to him. After all, he spent thirteen years waiting like this.Despite that, he can’t help but wonder, will it be like this every day? Will seasons pass, or years until they meet again? Jiang Cheng brushes some wood shavings into the water, blowing away a cloud of sawdust with his next breath.Beside him, Jin Ling coughs and coughs, shooting his uncle an extremely unimpressed look. Well, it’s his own fault for sitting so near to him. He didn’t even ask him to come out here, yet he came and chose to stay. Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to scold him, but then—“Hello.”Jin Ling shrieks and almost topples over into the lake. “Your fairy has returned. Did you miss me?”“Lan Huan?” Jiang Cheng spins around, clutching his chest in shock. His soul nearly flew out of his body! Indeed, his husband is right there, hovering above the water. “You’re… you’re back already? But—but how?!”“Well I said I’d see you soon, didn’t I?” Lan Xichen says, smiling brightly. “I promised you I would come back.”“Yes, you did, that’s right…” he murmurs in disbelief, a flush of warmth filling his cheeks. His heart trembles as he slowly stands and walks over to him. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t let that become a habit. If I knew you were coming, maybe then I could have gotten some sleep—”“Were you not able to sleep?” It’s almost comical how concerned Lan Xichen sounds, but there’s nothing funny about the way he cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek and searches his face. What does he see there? When those golden eyes melt like honey, his smile becomes achingly tender. “Oh, so you did miss me.”Jiang Cheng clears his throat, ignoring the gagging sounds coming from his nephew. “Lan Huan, that’s quite enough.”“What’s that you’re holding?” Lan Xichen asks, taking his clenched fist and prises it open. There’s a small chunk of wood carved like a lotus bud. “Some sort of paperweight? It’s pretty.”“This is a mockup design of a bell,” he explains, feeling his face burn even hotter. “We usually have a standard model, but I’m making… but this one is different. I’m making these designs specifically with you in mind—will you stop giving me that look? I couldn’t sleep, so what else was I supposed to do?”Lan Xichen’s eyes widen, “This is for me?”Of course, he already knows the Yunmeng Jiang traditions regarding marriage, but this… he darts a glance at the bell hanging from Jiang Cheng’s belt. The thought of wearing one himself fills him with such excitement, he almost smashes the wooden mockup in his hand. There are delicate clouds carved into the wood and his name wrapped around the seam like a ribbon.“Yes, it’s for you. Of course, it’s for you. It’s not finished yet though,” Jiang Cheng babbles, “And it’s not very good either. This is just the first draft—”“It’s beautiful.”Jiang Cheng bites his lip. “Anyway,” he says, doing his best to remain unaffected by his husband’s expression. What did he do to deserve such a look of adoration? “How did it go? What did they say?”Lan Xichen sobers up in an instant. “All things considered, it went pretty well. The wager has been won, meaning that the curse is broken. Despite that, they still say that I will eventually have to serve as a god in Heaven, and after I take that post, Zhinü will be allowed to reincarnate on earth. The contract has gone through and cannot be undone. Unfortunately, there’s no changing that… but hopefully it won’t happen for a long time yet.”Jiang Cheng asks quietly, “There’s no avoiding it?”“No, it’s already fate-bound,” he explains, catching his chin before he can drop his gaze, “Wait, just listen to me first. When I was up there, part of the trial involved being told the damages I’d incurred from my last visit. It was a very long list. Apparently, I am guilty of injuring His Majesty—”“Guilty?” Wei Wuxian calls from the other side of the deck. “He deserved it! I would’ve gone as far as to kill him, given the chance!”Jiang Cheng scoffs, “Yeah? As if you could!”Despite his protests, the others have decided to stay around Lotus Pier. There was nothing he could do or say to convince them to leave.Naturally, Jin Ling was always welcome here, but that allowed his friends to stay by proxy. As for the others (including the Eight Immortals)? They simply invited themselves to his lodging—shameless didn’t even begin to cover it! Seeing that their master was too tired to force them out, his loyal Spiders saw this as an opportunity to gather his ‘guests’ and try to squeeze answers out of them as to what happened to their leader… meaning they were of no help to him either.“Of course, you would anyway,” Jiang Cheng sneers, kicking water at Wei Wuxian. “Who cares if you’d damn yourself in the process? Why not kill the Emperor of Heaven? Yes, that’s exactly the type of brainless thing you’d do!” He turns back to Lan Xichen, “How bad is it though? Don’t tell me you’re being punished for that on top of everything else?”Lan Xichen recalls his time in Heaven.
During the trial, he was mostly standing there listening to each member of court summarise the details of the havoc he’d wrought on Heaven. Afterwards, Zhinü took him out of the palace to show him how bad the damage really was. The anger he felt had been simmering at the time, revived simply from being in the Emperor’s presence.
“Calm down, Huan’er. I know how you feel, but killing him won't bring you peace,” Zhinü soothed, her tone forcing him to obey. “You’ve already drawn blood once. Child, look around you. Do you see what you've done? Let it be enough.”
The clouds peeled back to reveal that many of the palaces and pavilions had cracks running up their walls. Many of them were damaged beyond repair. Lan Xichen wished he could say that it was enough, but the truth was… it wasn't enough. He'll never forget holding his lover's cold body, standing in a hall where no one would look him in the eye.
The closest he got to satisfaction was cutting the Emperor's throat. Remembering the glint of fear he saw in the old man's, he smiled at a crumbling tower and watched it splinter apart.
“—an Huan? Hey, can you hear me?”Lan Xichen blinks awake, finding Jiang Cheng frowning at him in concern. “Yes, I… of course, I’ve been punished. They calculated the cost, and I am massively in debt for what I have done.” Before any devastation can set in, he quickly adds, “Which means that I have been sent to Earth as a heavenly official, to work on assignment for as long as is required to earn that merit.”Jiang Cheng’s expression goes blank for a moment. “…sent to Earth? Does that mean you can stay?”Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “Would that please you, fūjūn?”Who cares about having an audience?Jiang Cheng throws himself off the platform, jumping across to be caught midair and twirled around. Would that please him? Is he fucking serious? This teasing bastard! There are only two words coming out of his mouth. “Thank you,” over and over as Lan Xichen laughs, loud and clear, spinning him around in delight. They are almost dancing in the air, and must look quite ridiculous doing so, but really, who cares?This time is theirs. This life is theirs. This moment belongs to them. Who cares if the whole world is watching? Let them watch.“Wait, is that why… it’s only been one night since you left. How is it that… why was it not for longer than that? I was expecting to wait weeks, months, maybe even years—Lan Huan, slow down! I’m going to be sick!”Even after they slow down, his head keeps spinning. Thoughts turning. Heart racing.“I would never have left you to wait that long,” Lan Xichen says, as if it’s as simple as that. As if that were his choice to make. There’s something unshakeable in that statement though. Something that allows him to believe in it, and in him, completely. “You’ve waited long enough.”Was it only one night, or has it been a week, or a month, or years, or has it been a whole eternity of waiting? The thing about waiting is that it implies he must have been expecting something, but he never thought anyone would come after him. There was no one else on that bridge for the longest time, and so he watched the sun rise and set in an endless cycle.Jiang Cheng inhales sharply, blinking rapidly to dispel that memory. “Yes, I… thank you.”Lan Xichen pauses to briefly kiss his brow, and then continues, “They estimated that three-hundred years would be more than enough time to earn what’s needed to pay my debts. According to Zhinü, that should also give us plenty of time for you to join me—”Wait a second… join him? At first, Jiang Cheng is shocked that the Goddess’ would have that much faith in him, but it’s with this thought that several things start to click into place.There has been this feeling for a long time now that they’re only being allowed to see a small part of a much greater picture.It’s been building, swelling like an incoming tide. Jiang Cheng has been careful to stay quiet when he’s noticed anything… unusual. Instead, choosing not to mention them, and stowing these details to examine later in the safety of his mind. What he was noticing were things too blasphemous to speak aloud, but it’s there where a faint glimmer is now growing ever brighter at the corners of his vision. There comes a point where such thoughts can’t be ignored any longer.Something flickers in Lan Xichen’s eyes, which gives Jiang Cheng the confidence to ask, “Would you say that three-hundred years is long enough for the right number of adventures then, fūjūn?”Perhaps this question would not make sense to anyone else, but just the mention of adventures takes him back to the morning prior to the battle. What was it he said to him? (Even so, I don’t think this will be our last adventure.) Lan Xichen can’t help but wonder, even when their time on Earth is over, will there ever be a ‘last’ anything between them?“Even if it isn’t, I’m sure you could make more time for us,” Jiang Cheng continues when he fails to answer in time, lifting his chin, “Just as you have done in the time that you were gone.” When their eyes lock together, he knows he’s not alone in what he’s thinking. “Lan Huan, I really think you did command time to be still.”Lan Xichen tilts his head slightly, “How so?”“If one hour in Heaven equals one day on Earth, how much time did you spend up there? When you consider that, how much time should have passed here without your interference?”“But what makes you think I did anything?”“You promised that you wouldn’t keep me waiting and then returned by the next morning. As well as that, you told us you’ve managed to injure Heaven’s most powerful deity.” Jiang Cheng idly reaches up to touch the place where Bichen cut him. “There’s also the fact that you caused so much destruction in Heaven, and the fact that you entered Hell without any trouble."Do you think all new gods are meant to be this powerful or are you the exception?”Lan Xichen has been wondering this too. There’s no doubt they’ve been singled out, but was that due to the curse or something else? Whilst the Emperor’s interest in them was understandable, it was also quite concerning considering what that might otherwise suggest. There’s always been more to this, but how much more?“With this one thing, you’ve blown through all the rest of my requirements,” Jiang Cheng comments offhandedly, throwing him with this segue. “‘Cultivation not too high’? Forget anything else, yours must be through the roof—no, more likely it’s through the fucking sky! What am I supposed to do now, ah?”Lan Xichen can tell he’s joking, and naturally, he wants to respond in kind (better not divorce me, is right on the tip of his tongue), but something else comes out of his mouth. “Are you sure you don’t match me in power? Are you sure you aren’t greater?”Jiang Cheng stares at him, his complexion gradually turning pale. “What?”“That poem you wrote for me came true, Wanyin,” he explains. Has it never occurred to him, the significance of that? “Wouldn't that suggest that what you write must be linked to our destiny somehow? All of Heaven feared that you would win this wager. Don't you see? Doesn’t that tell you how much power you hold—”“Don’t say that.”“Don’t be afraid. I’m here,” Lan Xichen says, holding him steady. “And my love, I don’t think you would have been given this power if you couldn’t handle it. You are smarter than you think and braver than you know.” You’ve always been good. “If you can’t believe that now, let me believe it for you.” I promise you’re enough. “Let me believe in you.”Jiang Cheng hears this and shivers down to his bones.If he were as brave as his husband claimed he was, he would be able to admit that he has been suspecting something along these lines, but hearing it spoken aloud sounds absurd. Why would anyone decide to give him this much power? Others would deem it unwise to trust him, especially given his reputation of being ruled by his emotions. There's no forgetting that speech Sun Wu Kong and the Eight Immortals gave explicitly explaining why he was unsuitable for immortality.How could things have changed so far as to mean that he was now able to attain immortality, or had that always been a possibility for him? Ascending to immortality, or to godhood? What the fuck. Seriously, who can blame him for being shocked? All his life he's been expected to lead his sect someday and continue his family's traditions. Already he'd lost direction so many times in this past year.How can anyone expect him to tell right from wrong when he can hardly tell up from down anymore?This is too much, it’s really too much! Besides the shock, confusion and helplessness, he feels like he’s been stretched to the limit and might just explode! Right then, he doesn’t even want to be touched or held. At the same time, he’s convinced Lan Xichen is all that’s holding him together. Before, it was already a struggle accepting that he was Zhinü’s champion, or that breaking the curse was dependent on his choice. All of that was so simple compared to this! How can there possibly be more? How can the world keep expanding, opening up wider and wider like a gaping maw— “Well, isn’t this just great!” he spits out. “If this is true, how the fuck am I supposed to write anything ever again? This is complete madness, Lan Huan. The Eight Immortals are still causing havoc challenging all of my disciples to fight and drinking all of my wine. Do you know that I’ve not had a single cup of tea since coming home? How can I when there’s fucking Meng Po in my kitchen?! I can’t with this, I really can’t—”There’s a high-pitched noise filling his head, rising up to a frequency that almost makes him dizzy. Someone is breathing loudly, far away, and distantly he realises that it’s him. His vision is too blurry to focus, the world is swimming but he’s drowning. This is all such bullshit.“Shh, it’s alright.” That voice is like a cool balm soothing his raw nerves, and Lan Xichen must know that. He knows him so well. “What can I do? How can I help?”“There’s nothing you can do,” Jiang Cheng snaps and then clamps his mouth shut. Immediately, he regrets saying anything. There’s no reaction from Lan Xichen though, apart from him rubbing his back in comfort. This man is really too good for him. “I think I need to not think about this.”“Alright.”“But what else is there to talk about? Fuck, I…” Jiang Cheng notices they’ve turned around, and he’s the one facing the pier. The others aren’t that close-by and thank god for that. He’s crying. In front of other people. It’s bad enough that Lan Xichen has to see him like this, but then… he hears buzzing. After looking around for dragonflies, he realises (with a touch of hysteria) that the only dragon present is the one in his arms—Oh, there’s an idea.“The boys,” he gasps, face wet and cold. Jin Ling is nearly hanging off the edge of the deck, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he watches his uncle’s approach. “They’ve been talking our ears off all throughout dinner and breakfast about dragons. About you. You’re a dragon.”Lan Xichen’s mouth opens and closes. “Yes?”“I’m the only one who hasn’t seen it yet,” Jiang Cheng points out. “Show me your dragon.”Someone clicks their tongue, but of course—it’s Wei Wuxian shaking his head in dismay. Despite Jin Ling’s protests, he’s clapped his hands over the boy’s ears. “My god, Jiang Cheng. Since when were you this shameless? You can always ask to see his dragon in private. We’re right here, you know?”The moment Jiang Cheng’s feet touch the ground is when he spins around, aiming a loose punch in his direction. Wei Wuxian sniggers, easily dodging this blow. Perhaps he’s too slow in his recovery, but it’s not worth getting worked up about that idiot. He goes back to Lan Xichen instead, who is still hovering above the water. “Well?”Lan Xichen didn’t even realise this, but… has he really never seen him as a dragon? It’s true that Jiang Cheng was unconscious when he flew him to Heaven, but Lan Xichen wasn’t even aware he was in his dragon form back then. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else other than him. The only time he’s had it confirmed by someone else was when Jin Ling scolded him for flying too fast (all we could see was your fucking tail!!) but he never really thought about it—“Show us!” Jingyi calls out excitedly, hanging by the back of his belt. Sizhui sighs loudly, holding onto Ouyang Zizhen, who is holding onto Jingyi in turn. “Please, Zewu-Jun!”Lan Xichen bites his lip, wondering how exactly he’s supposed to go about doing this. Perhaps it’s not that difficult? Maybe he just needs to think of it and the change will happen? Flying was that easy, and apparently stopping time was that easy. Neither of those things involved transforming himself though.It’s as he’s pondering this that it happens.There’s a ripple of light, and then… there is silence.“…”“Why are you so small?”“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian exclaims as if he’s been slapped. “You can’t just say that about a man's d—”Immediately, he stops listening to him.Anyway, it’s true.Lan Xichen is surprisingly small.Even when Jiang Cheng crouches down, he’s taller than his husband, who is definitely a dragon but… roughly the size of a dog, and not even a large dog at that. There’s the sudden urge to hold him. Protect him. Jiang Cheng leans over to offer him his hand and Lan Xichen quickly coils around his wrist to slide up his arm.When he reaches Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, he finds himself gazing into a familiar pair of eyes, and it’s as if a weight has been lifted from his chest. The frantic pounding of his heart finally slows down, and he no longer feels so fragile, trembling like a leaf and almost shaking apart. Like this, Lan Xichen is somehow different enough to provide a good distraction, but even in this new body, he’s very much himself.“Wow,” he murmurs, stroking a finger over the softer, thinner scales between his eyes, and then up along the elegant curve of his antlers. He’s beautiful. Luminous, opalescent scales with the delicate sheen of frost, his body jewelled like the dragonflies he loves so much— “Oh!”Suddenly Lan Xichen falls into his lap, gazing up at him all the while as he solemnly expands to fill the space between his legs. Before, when he thought he was the size of a dog, he meant a small dog. For a moment, he’s the size of a Fairy-sized-dog, but then he doesn’t stop growing… Wei Wuxian barks out a laugh, “Oh, I see. So that’s how it is! Haha! Isn’t it just typical that it’s only when Jiang Cheng touches Xichen-gē that he starts growing bigger—”
Splash!
Jiang Cheng jerks back in surprise.Lan Wangji just… pushed him into the lake? Did he really do that to Wei Wuxian? Of all people, him? How absurd. It’s even more shocking when he gives Jiang Cheng a curt nod and then peers down at his brother with a bland expression that seems distinctly unimpressed. “Brother, you aren’t that frightening.”At first, that random comment doesn’t make sense at all, but then Lan Xichen replies: “I know, but I didn’t want to startle him.”“He is not so easily frightened.”“Yes, I know that—”“Wait, did you make yourself small… for me?” Jiang Cheng is hit with an odd mixture of annoyance, fondness, and embarrassment. Lan Xichen doesn’t answer him, more focused on keeping himself at the approximate size of a sheep, waiting for Jingyi and the other boys to have a turn touching his scales before he transforms back. “Idiot,” he snorts, lightly splashing water at him.Lan Xichen’s face is slightly flushed, his eyes averted. “There’s something else I have to show you.”With a rustle of cloth, he digs through his sleeves and pulls out… “What’s that?”It looks like a thick bundle of fabric. Jiang Cheng plucks at the edge. It's very fine cloth. No, wait. It’s silk. That's a lot of silk!“This is the goddess Zhinü’s gift to us,” Lan Xichen explains, his next words causing him to retract his hand, “Cloud-silk which she has woven herself. There is enough to make garments for both of us. It can be used for whatever we wish, though she hopes we’ll use it for our wedding robes—”“Wedding robes?”“I have plans for us,” he chokes out, swallowing. “And that is one of them.”Jiang Cheng’s mouth curves into a faint smile. “What plans, Zewu-Jun? Be more specific.”“I want to marry you,” he says, glancing up to find him with his brow raised questioningly, his blue eyes dancing with amusement.“Are we not already married?” Jiang Cheng finally releases a low chuckle when Lan Xichen purses his lips. “If I’m remembering correctly, we are,” he adds, though he continues to run his hands over the cloud-silk, admiring the fine craftsmanship. It’s as delicate as a spider’s web and shines like polished silver, but when he lifts it into his hands, he knows that despite being so lightweight, it must be stronger than steel.“Jiang Cheng, I want to marry you again.”What would it be like to see that silk dyed red? “We can do it properly this time, the way it should have been.”In his mind, he tries to imagine wearing bright crimson robes trimmed in gold, standing next to Lan Xichen and kneeling with him to serve tea. Everything they’ve already done, only done a thousand times better. With bells and ribbons, with laughter and smiles, with love and happiness pouring out from every corner— “If you insist.”Lan Xichen breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”“Why are you thanking me? Were you that worried?” He scoffs. “Did you really think I would say ‘no’? After all that we’ve been through? Don’t be ridiculous.”Lan Xichen cheeks flush an even darker pink that spreads to his ears. “Well, I didn’t want to assume.”“We’ll need to go to Gusu first,” Jiang Cheng says, already shifting his gaze away as he reverts back to brooding. Looking more closely, Lan Xichen can see how tired he is. It's clear that he's frayed at the edges, still recovering from the battle and his close brush with death. “It would only be right…”Whatever it is he’s thinking about, it’s nowhere as bad as his panicked thoughts from earlier, but he’s clearly restless with the need to feel in control of things again. All of this he can see in a single glance, from Jiang Cheng’s furrowed brows to his clenched jaw. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”Jiang Cheng pauses mid-sentence, his hands curling in the folds of the cloud-silk. “Tomorrow, then.”
Was it perhaps a bit silly of him to have assumed Jiang Cheng was going to ask for his uncle’s permission to marry him? Yes, apparently it was.In hindsight: he's a full-grown adult, the leader of his sect, already married and… all of this meant that he’d let his mind run wild with thoughts of another wedding and completely forgotten about common sense.This was why Lan Xichen couldn’t help feeling quite foolish when they arrived in the Cloud Recesses and Jiang Cheng asked to meet with his uncle to talk about building him a temple. Of course, he’d been thinking about Lan Xichen’s assignment on Earth, and his godly status and what would be required to support him. Practical things. Of course.“Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but it is your assignment so it needs to be done. Your uncle needs to know what’s happening. So do your elders. Also, you need a temple. You need shrines. You need to earn your merits somehow. What type of god has no place of worship?”Jiang Cheng had posed this question to him, but it was obvious he wasn’t meant to answer it. He was right though.Lan Xichen knew it was unlikely he’d suddenly amass a horde of worshippers, so he was in no danger of being blasted up to Heaven. The cultivation world had yet to learn about them or his godly status, and explaining this was going to need to be carefully handled with as much help from them as they could get. Even so, it felt bizarre to be discussing building a monument in his name, but Jiang Cheng was adamant that he deserved no less than that.“You don’t have to look so nervous. I’m the one who’ll be suggesting this, so—ah fuck, it’s so cold here. Ugh. Fucking hell. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes. It would only be right to have your uncle build your first temple. After all, this is your home.”Lan Xichen wanted to disagree about the last part, but he was too touched by the sentiment to argue. Jiang Cheng was truly a man of tradition, but this was more than him showing respect. Some might simply call it a courtesy or even a requirement to have arranged all of this, but no… there was so much heart in this act of giving. There was no doubt in his mind that Jiang Cheng had never considered withholding this honour from Lan Xichen’s family.Once they arrived in the Cloud Recesses, they went straight to the hanshi and curled up together in bed, burying themselves under the blankets to stay warm. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms until the morning. When he opened his eyes, the room was still swathed in shadows with the sun only barely giving enough light to see by.Now, with Jiang Cheng’s face pressed firmly against his chest and his nose digging into his flesh, Lan Xichen can’t stop admiring him. How is it that he’s frowning in his sleep, but also seems so peaceful?Gently, so as not to wake him, he smoothes out the furrow of his brow with his fingertips. When he doesn’t stir from this, Lan Xichen bends down to brush his lips against his forehead and lingers there for a few heartbeats. The chill of winter makes mornings more difficult, but sadly nothing can break a Lan from their routine. Not even this.As he’s climbing out of bed, something suddenly grabs hold of him. Glancing backwards, his breath catches in his throat.Jiang Cheng’s hair is caught tangled between his fingers, his hand wrapped around his wrist.Seeing this, he can’t even stand to keep the distance of an arm’s length between them. Not when the bed is warm and inviting. Not when Jiang Cheng wants him to stay. Lan Xichen leans down to stroke one glossy curl, remembering the way he yearned to do this all that time ago when he loved him in secret, and he bends to kiss the ends of his hair, and then the back of his neck, and then… “Oh.”Jiang Cheng is squinting up at him, scrunching his nose in confusion. “What’re you doing?”Lan Xichen can feel his face heat up with embarrassment. “Good morning, Wanyin.”“Mornin’,” he slurs, rubbing his eyes slowly. “Hm? Huan-gē, wha’s wrong?”“Oh, nothing, nothing. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Lan Xichen withers under his husband’s sharpening gaze, cringing inwardly when he feels his traitorous ears start burning. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early.”Jiang Cheng rolls over, hissing a bit when cold air seeps under the blankets. It’s possible he might not even be aware he’s awake since he pulls Lan Xichen’s hand to cover his face. The frown has deepened, but his voice is soft and gravelly. “Come back to bed. It’s too early. You said that, not me.”“Yes, that’s right…” Lan Xichen says faintly. Jiang Cheng's cheeks are flushed, radiating heat and colour. He keeps smacking his lips, making them impossible to ignore. “Yes, I did say that.”There are so many things he’s learning about him, and oh, how he loves everything he finds.In this quiet, hazy hour of the day, Jiang Cheng is his most vulnerable self, and it’s especially in these moments where the changes between them become apparent. He lets his guard down completely around Lan Xichen, relaxing enough to grumble and whine for attention. Those lovely eyes are not so flat or cold anymore, shining with a deeper shade of purple. Beautiful, he’s so beautiful he can't look away.Where last time he noticed his freckles, today he notices that his lips might not be very full, but somehow the shape of his mouth is really quite… sensual—“Are my sleeves in danger again, or is it my hair this time?”His attention jumps back immediately, and he finds himself facing the same amused look from yesterday. “Excuse me?”“Tell me, is this going to become a habit of yours? Last time you would have cut my sleeve off, today I’m worried about my hair.” Jiang Cheng smirks, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist. “You’re holding onto it so tightly, but I’m holding onto your wrist. Which one of us is going to let go first?”Lan Xichen lets out a shaky breath. “Not me.”“Ah, so I’m cutting myself free then, am I?” “What? No!”Jiang Cheng sniggers, rolling back and forth like he did last night, trying to generate some warmth until he wrapped him up in his arms and hugged him tightly. At least there are some advantages to this bitterly cold winter. Laughter lingers on his face long after he’s done laughing. Lan Xichen still cannot say how much he loves him. It grows and grows.“Ugh, I guess I’d better get up too,” Jiang Cheng mutters, using his grip on his wrist to drag himself upright, “You and your goddamn early mornings. No one should be awake this time of day, especially not in this season. I can’t believe I’m going to meet with your uncle when my mind is only half-awake. Wonderful. I'm sure he'll be impressed when I yawn in his face. Fuck.”Whilst they’re getting ready, he finds himself sneaking glances at his husband. Lan Xichen knows his mind is untamed at this hour, wandering around too freely and muddled in with his heart. There can’t be more than five chǐ between them, but how many mornings will they wake up much further apart? They cannot have this every day. It’s thoughts like this that cause him to yearn insatiably for more.“Don’t forget your forehead ribbon.”Jiang Cheng stands at the doorway, the strip of silk hanging from his hand. There’s a small wooden box tucked under his arm. It’s a gift of liánchá he brought for shūfū. Lan Xichen’s heart flutters, a heady rush of fondness almost causing him to stumble.“What are you waiting for? Come, let me tie it.”Lan Xichen quickly grabs a cloak and goes to join him. They won’t be able to do this every morning of their lives, but he can enjoy it right now. Jiang Cheng peers up at him, probably wondering what on earth is causing him to make whatever face he’s making.Indeed, Jiang Cheng is quite baffled, but he's not really concerned. Maybe he isn’t fully awake yet and they’re still wandering through the same dream. It’s not difficult to know what Lan Xichen is thinking about. They should enjoy the mornings they get together. Instead, he's already thinking about the days where they'll wake up alone. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, he whispers, “Enough sulking. Let’s not be late.”The cloak is wonderfully warm, but made even warmer with the memories it carries, and Jiang Cheng lets them come with each footstep. There are a few persimmon trees on their way to the main house, a few bright orange fruits catching his eye where they’re tucked in the snow. Jiang Cheng entertains himself kicking a couple of them around, peering up at the branches for any good ones left.If there’s one sight worth waking up for, it must be sunrise in the mountains.Lan Xichen says suddenly, “No matter how difficult it was, I don’t regret walking with you in the snow.”Jiang Cheng glances away from the blushing dawn. “Pardon?”But Lan Xichen doesn’t explain himself, kissing him goodbye with a promise that he’ll come to fetch him for breakfast, and then he leaves—he leaves just like that! What a random thing to say. They were clearly thinking about the same memory, but why would Lan Xichen think he’d need that reassurance? Walking in the snow, gathering persimmons. It was a good memory. Not one he'd regret.With or without his brain half-awake, he finds the meeting goes surprisingly well.It was somewhat encouraging that Lan Qiren didn’t flinch much when he explained Lan Xichen’s situation. He actually seemed rather grateful to hear this result. The more pressing concern he brought to the table was that of successors, but to that, he simply said, “That is no longer my responsibility,” and stared pointedly at Jiang Cheng until he agreed that they'd deal with it themselves.It shouldn't be too difficult to name a successor. They have three-hundred years to train them well, and that's what head disciples are for!Another unexpectedly good thing was that he didn’t really bother to ask Jiang Cheng to consider annulling the marriage.“The gods have spoken. What can I say?” He shook his head. “Call me superstitious, but I don’t think the heavens will allow you to commit infidelity. They seem overly invested in your marriage, so what's done is done.” That was when Jiang Cheng began to notice how tired Lan Qiren looked. Tired, but relieved. These were all lesser problems to the ones he had feared.
When Jiang Cheng brings up the topic of temples, Lan Qiren smiles for the first time.
The Cloud Recesses will always be a place of learning, and there is definitely much to learn about constructing temples. More than that, it’s only natural that the man who raised Lan Xichen will know his preferences, so spends the next hours mostly listening to Lan Qiren agree to his suggestion and run away with it. The older man seems quite pleased to have been consulted for advice on this.Actually, Lan Qiren mostly seems pleased just to be asked anything at all, and even takes the time to brew them some of his recently gifted lotus tea.So he listens and drinks in every scrap of knowledge that he can, and after the first hour he starts taking notes, and the nostalgia of this is oddly soothing.When Lan Xichen arrives, Jiang Cheng is so absorbed in the lecture that he unthinkingly hands him his cup to drink from when he asks for some tea. Lan Qiren doesn’t react to this, so it’s only when Jiang Cheng goes to re-dip his brush that he realises what he’s done. There’s nothing he can do then. Lan Xichen is already happily finishing off the rest of his tea, and Lan Qiren is pouring him another cup.Jiang Cheng burns his tongue in his hurry to drink, baffled by how calm the old man is acting.“It’s decided,” Lan Qiren concludes, not paying his nephew any mind. Jiang Cheng is glad he brought him a top-quality gift because… thank this man for saving both of them some face! “Thank you, Sect Leader Jiang. I appreciated meeting with you today.”Jiang Cheng nods, bowing his head clumsily. “It was a good meeting, thank you Teacher.”“This teacher would be grateful if Sect Leader Jiang could keep him informed on progress with the work. If any further help is required, you can—Lan Huan, stop smiling like that. Try to remember your discipline.” Lan Qiren’s tone changed so suddenly, Jiang Cheng felt it like a slap on the face. “Control yourself.”“Yes, shūfū,” Lan Xichen chimes. It’s clear he’s enjoying this a lot. Probably too much— Jiang Cheng stands abruptly, “We’ll be taking our leave now, thank you Teacher!”Perhaps that exit was too hasty, but if it was, Lan Qiren says nothing of it. In fact, he’s been so lenient with Jiang Cheng throughout the meeting that it's left him in a bit of a daze. He really doesn’t know what to make of that, but he’s not going to complain. He’s not even going to complain about Lan Xichen’s lack of ‘discipline’. Mostly he’s just relieved that he’s feeling better… even if he stole his tea.Walking outside, they hear young voices in the distance. The children came with them on this trip to Gusu, all four of them eager to tell their junior-juniors about their travels.Jiang Cheng is both impressed and alarmed that that loud voice isn't Jingyi, but Xiao Ouyang, who is very happily interrogating his shīxiōngs. Who knew such a small boy could be so loud? He's even giving Jingyi a run for his money at this volume!“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says, and even with him saying his name, he already sounds like he’s up to something. “My first temple will be built here, but I hope that my second one can be in Yunmeng.”“Of course. Where else would it be?” Already he has a few ideas where it might be placed. The pavilion where he likes to sit sometimes in the evenings has the best view of the lake at sunset, but there's also the deck outside his office which is nice and private. “That won't be a problem.”“If it was a problem, you know you can always pray to me privately as well. Think of me and I'll come to your side. Whenever you want me, call out my name. Every night, if you must—” “Excuse me? Every night? Call out your name? Lan Huan—”“Yes, just like that.” Lan Xichen shoots him such a disarming smile that he completely forgets what he was about to say, and turns the conversation in a completely different direction. “By the way, that was shūfū’s favourite tea set we used, which he only ever brings out on rare occasions. You must have won his favour to be served with one of his most prized possessions.”“…with tea?”“With what you have done, and what you are planning to do for me.”Jiang Cheng cannot recall even the most basic details of the teacup he used. All he remembers is its warmth in his hands, and seeing Lan Xichen’s lips fold over the same part of the rim he used. That wasn't even anything. It can’t have been that shameless compared to whatever the old man must have seen from a certain other nephew’s spouse, so he doesn’t know why he’s so goddamn flustered.“It’s most likely the only problem he has with you is that you’re a man, but not that you are my husband.”Jiang Cheng coughs, “Well… well, that's too bad. Neither of those things can be changed.”Lan Xichen laughs, releasing the tension he’d been holding onto. It was something quite special seeing his uncle and husband spending time together. Perhaps to an outsider, it might have looked like a very one-sided conversation, or something akin to a lecture, and in a sense, it had been. What he saw, however, was them in agreement and discussion; what he saw was acceptance in the way shūfū stroked his beard, and the tea… the tea was really quite telling.“It’s beautiful here,” Jiang Cheng comments, his pace slowing as they reach one of the main courtyards. It’s one of the larger ones, with bare magnolia trees and benches clad in snow. Most would use the covered corridor, but he ends up guiding them outside. “Lan Huan, could you paint a scene like this?”Lan Xichen thought he hated winter. Does he like scenes like this? He’s drawn plenty of them before, but he tilts his head in thought. Stepping backwards, he gestures around, “This scene, here?”Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “Hm, yes. The courtyard is good, with the mountains behind it, and… where are you going? Am I in your way? I can move—”“No, no, don’t move. Stay right there.”Lan Xichen stands a distance away, and he can tell that Jiang Cheng is wondering what he’s doing. Despite that, he doesn’t ask anything, probably not wanting to break his concentration. How does an artist capture a landscape? It’s only easier after years of practice, with his mother’s voice whispering in his ears. Encouraging her sons to observe the world, to read everything they could, to open their minds to all possibilities.
Ask your big brother, A-Zhan. Until you see the whole picture, how can you ever assume the artist’s intention?
Between paintings and written words, surely countless worlds must exist. What was the intention behind their creation? Was it not merely enough to create, or must there be a reason? “Wait, you aren’t putting me in your painting, are you?”“Why not? I'm the artist. I get to choose,” he grins. “And I daresay a spot of purple would improve the scenery—ah, I’m telling the truth! Don’t hit me! Life would be boring without a bit of colour—”“You!” Jiang Cheng’s cheeks are glowing, his eyes twinkling like stars as he shoves at him with enough force to knock him to the ground. Lan Xichen bursts out laughing, that bright sound echoing for miles. Part of him wonders how many rules they’re breaking, but he can’t bring himself to care.All those months ago, when Lan Xichen asked him to pursue something that gave him joy, when Jin Ling encouraged him to find something just for himself… now, he has both of those things.If he were to be asked again ‘What gives you joy? What did you find?’ he would wrap his arms around his answer.
You give me joy. The one I found was you.
Instead of saying anything, he leans his head against Lan Xichen’s shoulder, tucking his nose into the warmth of his fur collar. “Even with a strong core, looking at this type of weather would make anyone feel cold.”Lan Xichen sighs, “Sometimes I miss feeling cold.”Jiang Cheng frowns. “Why?”“Because at least then I would have a good reason to hold your hand.”“...”How can this man keep saying such sappy things? How thick is his face? It’s not that bad, he tells himself, it’s just fucking embarrassing. Even so, there’s just the two of them here, and maybe he… maybe he likes it. Not that he’ll admit to that. Fuck.“Your mouth has better things to do than to spout such nonsense—no, no! Not like that! I didn’t mean like that!” They must be making such a ruckus, but Jiang Cheng has no choice but to dodge and wrestle when his fellow sect leader is attacking him like a dog with a bone. Rules be damned! “I meant breakfast! Let's go have breakfast! Stop!”Lan Xichen backs down after giving him one last kiss, utterly unashamed of his childish behaviour, “Are you alright? Can you breathe?”“You dare ask me that?” Jiang Cheng croaks, panting. “Can I breathe? Can I fucking breathe? I’m starting to think if I’m tying your forehead ribbon on too tight! Where did all the blood in your brain go, huh? Fucking moron! Never tickle me again!”They’re much too old to be messing around like this, but it’s so much fun swatting and scolding his husband and he can’t stop smiling. Has the winter frozen his face like that? Hopefully not. If it has, why then does he feel so warm? Lan Xichen waits for him to catch his breath, but when he sees his expression, he wonders if he’s done something wrong.“We should go back to Yunmeng. It’s warmer there,” Lan Xichen says, reaching up to rearrange Jiang Cheng’s cloak around his shoulders. Why is he suddenly so serious? The wound is healing just fine. There’s nothing to worry about. “Breakfast first. Then we can leave.”Jiang Cheng watches him fix his clothing and then offer him his hand. After a moment, he accepts it, and as they’re walking hand-in-hand he asks himself, is this what it’s like having someone take care of you? When was the last time someone worried so much if he was warm enough or not?(If he remembers sitting on a cliffside, bathed in the colours of the sunset, listening to Lan Xichen’s song, and then trying to return his jade token… if he remembers taking his ice-cold fingers and rubbing warmth back into his skin, those are things he did without thinking. Is it possible that this could be the same?)Jiang Cheng is no stranger to taking care of others. Sometimes you do it out of duty, sometimes you do it for love.Perhaps he isn’t naturally the nurturing type, but he can do his part, and he has done. Being on the receiving end of this type of care, however, it’s different.In all the years that he’s been alone, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to have someone he could depend on. Not for work or for help with sect business, but for other things like comfort and happiness. It’s been so long, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone who would think that… no matter how small the problem, it still mattered.There wouldn’t have to be a reason, good or otherwise, for them to want to make things better.Whilst it might be cold in the mountains, there’s warmth to be found here too.
It almost seems a lifetime ago when he would walk these halls and hear nothing but the water and himself.There would be the sounds of his disciples sometimes or his nephew running around, but what was most constant were his footsteps striking the wooden deck and the lake currents sending little waves rippling back and forth below-deck. Oftentimes, he would patrol by himself repeatedly as if he were trying to familiarise himself with every single grain of sand.That time has passed, and yet, here he is doing it again.In the past, he might have resembled a ghost wandering his home in search of something he couldn’t name; now, he cannot say how he must appear to others. Even though the desperate search is over, sometimes his heart still yearns. This will never be the Lotus Pier of his childhood, but it is still home—And it really is, isn’t it?They say that home is where the heart is and maybe that's where it was all along. Maybe all this time it was right here, waiting for him, and what it took was him returning home to find it. As much as the world has changed, much of it remains the same as it has always been. What has changed most of all is him.Whilst the lake will forever be a comforting presence, he cannot look at lotuses the same way as he used to, now that he understands the struggle of rising to the surface. The winters will always be milder in Yunmeng, but they have tasted snow for the first time in centuries, and… how strange it is to see lotuses blooming in a frozen lake, and little snowmen lining the walkways here and there.(There is even one that looks more like a snake... or perhaps a dragon?)Jiang Cheng pauses to take in the sight, then continues on his way.Perhaps this has become a different type of rumination, walking backwards through time to the place where this all began. In his private quarters, at his desk, where he once sat alone and tired, working through the night. It’s funny to think it was a wedding invitation summoning him to Gusu that brought about such change. Would he ever have gone to help Lan Xichen without that opportunity? It’s impossible to say.There are too many variables to consider, and just as ripples scatter out over a surface, cause and effect are muddled together with chance. All he knows for certain is that he knows nothing with any certainty, and wanting to say ‘yes’ to that question would be giving himself far too much credit. What type of person someone is shows ultimately by their actions. That being said, he made his choice the moment he left Lotus Pier. At the time, he wasn’t to know what would transpire, but from that single action, a thousand others followed.As surely as fate leads those who are willing and pushes those who are not, opportunity knocks at the door only once.How humbling it is to know that legends can come from such small beginnings.It’s as he’s passing the training hall that he hears the voices of his right-hands, and he stays there a bit longer to listen. It seems they are intent on digging for information, but they won’t learn much from the children. Neither they nor anyone (except for Lan Xichen) knows how close they came to losing… everything. There’s a strong possibility the Spiders have noticed a change in him.Thinking about this, he feels a pang of guilt for the fact that, despite him coming back—he did come back, yes, but to a home that he was ready and willing to abandon.Do they sense that weakness within him? Do they forgive him for almost giving into temptation? Never before has he strayed so far from his duty, with any temptations quickly swept away by the promises he made to his sect.There was never any room for doubt.“…a dragon?” he hears Linzhen demand sharply. “You’re telling me Sect Leader Lan is a dragon? What proof do you have of this? And why is it that our Master went to the underworld?! What is that supposed to mean?! Are you boys asking for a whipping?!”Sizhui exclaims, “Definitely not! We’re not lying though, promise! Senior Wei, tell them!”All this prompts Wei Wuxian to do is babble something incomprehensible and laugh nervously. That means whatever face Linzhen is making, it must be terrifying. Jiang Cheng doesn’t blame him. Maybe it’s the boldness of youth, but Ouyang Zizhen speaks up with no apparent fear, “But you must have noticed he’s unwell, so you can’t deny that there was a battle—”Did he think reminding these women about Jiang Cheng’s injury would earn him some mercy?! Fool! Minzhen’s voice sends a shiver down his spine, “We’re not questioning that, more the validity of the events you claim to have occurred. Thank you for the reminder though, young master.”Ouyang Zizhen mumbles, “Haha, no problem…”“Idiot,” Jin Ling snorts from where he’s tucked under Jiang Cheng’s arm. “They really are asking for a whipping.”That’s where he’s been all this time—propping him up even though there’s no need for this type of support. He’s been sticking to him ever since they came back to Lotus Pier, following him everywhere, fussing over everything. Jiang Cheng knows they have a lot to talk about, and that Jin Ling is worried about him… and he can’t deny that it’s nice having him around, even if he hates being coddled.Jiang Cheng pushes him away. “Go save them, then.” Kissing the top of his head, another nudge. “Go. I'll be fine.”After hesitating a bit, Jin Ling leaves.“Hell?” Linzhen spits out from behind the door. “What type of a place is hell, and how the fuck did he end up there? Answer me!”Without meaning to add to their troubles, Jingyi misunderstands and says excitedly, “Yes exactly! I can’t help but wonder, what does hell look like?”That’s not what she meant, and that’s not… it’s somewhat bizarre to hear that question and know the answer for it. What does hell look like? Hell is where they are right now, or at least, that’s how it was for him. It was the burnt remnants of his home, kept alive in the memory. Wherever he goes, it seems he brings the past with him. Never to be forgotten, even in death.Being there was the closest he’d ever get to reliving his past lives, and the way his soul gazed into the river and saw all of his past reincarnations reflected back at him… Jiang Cheng swallows. It wasn’t easy facing his last thoughts from each lifetime, as he sat on the bridge and the memories flashed before his eyes.
I’ll do it better this time. I’ll make things right. I’ll be good enough.
Who knows if he and Lan Xichen ever crossed paths in previous lifetimes? There was never any indication of him, only the ache of something missing… but there would be no time to question what was missing. By the time he would register that feeling, he’d already be halfway across the bridge.Jiang Cheng remembers learning the reasons behind why he was so eager to move on from one life to the next so easily, and how that truth grew to eclipse everything, and how it remains alive in his heart even now. With every lifetime, the simple truth was that he couldn’t bear to be himself any longer. It wasn’t good enough to be who he was, and he believed that more than anything. That type of strong belief clings to the soul. When he realised that what he wanted was to be free from it, he thought he would have to earn that freedom—That’s what he thought. That’s what he believed for so long, but now he’s faced with a life he never thought possible. Not the freedom he craved nor an escape from himself, but a love that he didn’t expect, and a happiness he thought could never be his.
The stories that are remembered, the ones that become legends, are rarely ever happy. But if this life is to become our story, that means the ending is whatever we make it. It's in our hands.
Even saying that to Lan Xichen, he was never really able to believe it himself, because they were on the losing side of the battle. How could he ever think they stood a chance against fate? What destiny could they hold in their hands when they were challenging the gods? What could they possibly—Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks.Oh, that… that music, rising like a bird in flight, the notes falling like raindrops. Instantly, he recognises that song. It fills him with calmness and light, his breath swelling in his chest, and he opens his eyes and follows it with a clearer mind.They have been told about fate and destiny as if they were two opposing forces, but now he wonders if they might be more like rivers running to the sea.As such, if fate is what we are given and destiny is made independently, does that mean he loves Lan Xichen because they are fated, or does he love him of his own free will? Despite knowing which answer he’d want to be true, a person could waste their whole life asking such questions, and would knowing change anything? No, because he would love him either way.We always want to reject what is inevitable, clinging onto the illusion of choice; but what lies here before him, if he can bring himself to believe in such a thing, is an inevitable happiness.The journey there is no longer as far away as it used to be, and in fact, with just a few more steps he's suddenly… there.Lan Xichen is facing away from him, perfect posture and head bowed.It’s impossible to say if he’s observing the sunset or doing something else. Much to his bafflement, he’s brought all sorts of things with him to Yunmeng, including his xiāo, a gǔqín, writing equipment, books… it seems he’s planning on staying at Lotus Pier for a while. At the sound of his footsteps, the man stops humming and lifts his brush from the paper, turning to him with a smile spreading across his face.It was their song he was humming, the song with no end. But… maybe it’s a song that isn’t meant to end. Maybe it’s meant to keep going on like this forever. Jiang Cheng wavers awkwardly for a moment, but then he goes to join him on the floor, dropping something into his lap as a greeting. “It’s strange having you here.”Without missing a beat, Lan Xichen agrees, “It’s strange being here, new to a place that already feels like home.” Slowly he picks up the item and raises it to the light. The silver bell shines bright like a pearl. “You made it so quickly. It’s perfect.”“Wasn’t that difficult to make,” Jiang Cheng says, not knowing how else he should respond to that. Instead, he slides a hand over his chest and down his side, completely unbothered by the attention this gains him. “They said it's healing fine, but if I have any say in the matter, that’s the last time I’ll ever let myself be stabbed. Fucking nuisance.”Lan Xichen nods sagely, “You have definitely been stabbed by better things.”Jiang Cheng ignores this, tugging his robe open slightly. “Look how ugly my chest has become. The doctor said no matter how much ointment I use, there’s no removing a mark like this. Not that I care. I’m already a patchwork of scars, but—hey. I said look, not gawk. Lan Huan?”“…ah I’m sorry, what were you saying?”There’s no choice but to shove him away. Jiang Cheng laughs when his husband lets himself be pushed around. Who knew the First Jade was this mischievous? As to be expected of a gentleman, he’s incredibly good-natured about most things, but that only makes it that much more fun to find out how playful he can be underneath that well-mannered exterior. Jiang Cheng shifts to peek over his shoulder and is unsurprised to find that he’s sketching the snowy scene he requested. There is no courtyard yet… actually, it doesn’t look like he’s planning on adding that courtyard in at all. With this sort of sketch, his eye is mostly drawn to the mountain, the swirling snow and clouds near the lofty peaks, and then he notices something else.“Why am I there?” he asks, pointing at the small yet prominent figure sketched floating above a cloud. That placement makes no sense. “It looks stupid putting me there.”“But I’m there too.”“Exactly, which means we both look stupid.”Lan Xichen sighs, though his mouth twitches. “Never mind that.” He takes Jiang Cheng’s wrist, staring blankly ahead as he measures his pulse. “What took you so long? I was expecting you back over an hour ago.”“There was something that needed my attention.”“You look tired, darling. Maybe you should sleep earlier tonight.” Lan Xichen gently ushers him over to join him at the table. “I’ve kept the porridge warm for you. Eat first, then bed.”Jiang Cheng pulls a face. “Not again.”“It’s good for you, and it tastes good,” he insists, spooning some into a bowl for him. Did he use a talisman to keep it heated, or is he using some other method? “Much better than the one we have in Gusu. Come now, time to eat.”“Yeah, it tastes better because we put things in it other than rice like spices and fish,” Jiang Cheng knows he’s complaining like a little kid, but there’s nothing more annoying than being put on a bland diet of medicinal food. Despite this porridge not being plain, he craves bolder flavours and textures. “Aiyo Huan-gē, can I at least have some yóutiáo—”Was Lan Xichen ever this annoying with him? No, he was perfectly well-behaved and graceful, but the more Lan Xichen indulges him, the less he can resist pushing him. How much patience does this man have? Jiang Cheng stirs his porridge and bites off a large piece of yóutiáo, wishing he could add chilli or pickle to his food… at least the yóutiáo is still crispy and warm.“What needed your attention?”Jiang Cheng chews slowly, gesturing around with the doughnut in his hand, “Nothing important. I was just curious about something and needed to check up on it. Stop worrying. It’s nothing bad.”“Are you telling me you could have been here an hour ago?” Lan Xichen asks. His gentle tone is somehow worse than if he’d been scolding him outright. “If it wasn’t urgent, it could have waited. You would have been asleep by now.”“I’m already sleeping too much when I could be doing other things. If I’m sleeping, what am I doing?”Lan Xichen gives him a pointed look, “You’re sleeping.”Jiang Cheng purses his lips. “Well… obviously.” Quietly, he mulls it over, and then decides to ask, “Did you have to sleep a lot back then?”“Yes, I did. In that way, Gusu Lan does it best. I stand by the practice of good sleeping routines regardless of the times themselves.” Is it difficult to remember the time when he was unwell? There’s something about Lan Xichen’s lowered gaze and rueful smile that prompts him to shuffle a bit closer. “Actually, back then I couldn’t seem to sleep enough.”When they walked through the snow, and at the festival. I didn’t even realise. I was having such a good time, and then… gone. My energy. Just like that. That is not exactly the same as how Jiang Cheng feels, but he understands the weight of dragging his feet. The problem is, he’s used to being so past exhaustion that he’s no longer tired.“That was how I was affected, and it was different. You might not be suffering the same way I did, but… trust me when I say, you are tired, aìrén. I can see that you are. You just don’t realise it yourself. This is decades of sleep you’re catching up on, and you deserve that rest.”Whilst that is probably true, both of them know this isn’t the type of tiredness cured with a few nights of good sleep. Jiang Cheng presses his face against the curve of his husband’s shoulder, suddenly hit with a wave of that lethargy and numbness. Immediately, a hand comes to cradle the back of his skull.“I shouldn’t be so tired, yet I am so tired,” he muses, putting down the doughnut to lace their fingers together. “Why is that?”Lan Xichen strokes his knuckles. “There is no ‘shouldn’t be’, there just ‘is’.”“How can you stand to paint anything?”The abrupt change in topic has him stumbling a little. “Pardon?”“I’m too nervous to write. Not even for little notes to myself,” Jiang Cheng confesses, trailing a finger over the edge of the inkstone he’s using, “It’s too risky if what you say is true. What happens if I write something stupidly cataclysmic? Will the world end? Maybe it's best if I never write again.”“Have you ever thought about how you gave power to what you wrote?” There’s no time to ask what he means. Lan Xichen picks up the inkstone he’s using and, oh, it’s the… it’s the one with the dragon carved around the border. The one he smashed to pieces after their argument. “Which of your words have come true, and in what way have you written them?”From what Lan Xichen has told him, it was the poems he wrote that came true. Even that silly one he wrote when drunk held some sway over the future. How frightening was that? Jiang Cheng takes in a deep breath, thinking over what he could mean: in what way did he write them?Was it not during those times when they were practising painting and calligraphy together that those pieces of writing came about? Did Lan Xichen bring that inkstone to remind him of those times? But he started practising calligraphy with existing poems which meant that not all of those were technically his creations—
Practising calligraphy has been proven to improve vital energy stores, because when you channel energy to the dantian region and concentrate all your forces onto the tip of the brush, the ink becomes imbued with qi. It could therefore be considered a form of cultivation—
Oh.
I still can't believe how many years we’ve known each other and yet I never knew you were capable of something like this. It seems to me that either you have also been completely unaware of your talent all this time, or you knew, but were determined not to acknowledge it. Which one was it?
“I wrote them with you,” he realises, “Because of you, and for you… it was us, together. All this time.”Lan Xichen breathes out, “Yes.”“Which means the letters we wrote to each other, and the drawings you made for me…”There was that painting of ‘home’ depicting the lotus lakes swathed in wintry mists. There were all of those sketches of dragonflies he drew him. There were etchings of rivers flowing downwards from the mountains, to the pier, curling around the margins of letters upon letters—there was the inkstone, which he is now holding, but he didn’t use it every time. If the inkstone isn’t what gives his words power, what did then?Jiang Cheng trembles, looking down at their joint hands clasped together around the dark green riverstone, the broken pieces held together with gold veins along the cracks. His thumb is resting atop the carved head of the dragon. How far back does this go? The first thing Lan Xichen ever drew for him was— “Oh, the ducks. Lan Huan, the ducks! And now we’re married,” he breathes out, eyes bulging wide. Does Lan Xichen even understand what he’s saying? Does he know what he means? “Oh my god.”They could keep digging further into this, but frankly, he’s had enough of thinking about it. Was it that the act of creation was what bore them this power? Jiang Cheng remembers when he tried to dismiss Lan Xichen’s encouragement to pursue calligraphy as a pastime because… he said he had no interest in it. That was a lie.It’s true that until this man saw something in him, whether that was his so-called talent for the art or his enjoyment in it, before that he never took the time to indulge in any creative pursuits. Was that how it happened? He allowed himself to imagine, he allowed himself to believe, he put so much into their letters, filling them with the life he wished he could give to Lan Xichen.(Or perhaps, the life he wished he could share with him.)“Darling, it's going to be alright.” Lan Xichen swipes a thumb under his eye. “I have no fears when I’m with you, because what you have given me is courage. Let me do the same. Let me tell you—”Jiang Cheng crams the abandoned yóutiáo into his mouth. “…?”“…let me tell you. There’s seclusion for one year, maybe even two; and then there’s seclusion for over thirteen years in the shelter of your heart.” (Hearing this, he inhales sharply, almost choking on his doughnut.) “Amid the day-to-day runnings of your sect, the work and toil and the constant late nights you spend mourning the past, you are colder than the grave. You are shackled by the weight of your sorrow, and nothing can change unless you’re willing to make a move. You taught me that.”“But I just spent time with you. Aside from that, I did nothing.”Lan Xichen caresses his cheek, “You changed my self-punishment into self-reflection, and I found forgiveness in that. Your power is not in your writing, my love, but in yourself.”“Wh… but what lesson were we meant to learn from all of this?” Jiang Cheng whispers tearfully, pressing his cheek into that careful, loving hand. At this point, he’s almost lying in the other’s lap, and with a gentle tug he ends up fully there. “Life is so much suffering, but I suffer less when I'm with you. I want you, and what I want, I would give my life for. Does that mean that to achieve one’s happy ending you need to die first?”“You didn’t die.”“But I—”“A-Cheng, you didn’t die.” There’s a bubble of hysterical laughter that he barely bites back. Didn’t he die though? Lan Xichen’s serious tone is almost too much, but he also sounds oddly tense and his arm has gone rigid around him. “That wasn't it, and don’t ever say that again. Please.”Jiang Cheng leans his head on his shoulder, tracing the veins on the back of his hand. But if he didn’t die, was he like Wei Wuxian who cheated death? Was his core his own? Was his body the same or remade from scratch? These were probably the questions Lan Xichen asked himself too. It’s never as simple as coming back and living the same way as you did before.Whilst he may have returned with Lan Xichen, that doesn’t change the fact that he almost didn’t, and no doubt that near-loss weighs on his mind. If not in his body, in his heart and mind, he is changed.Jiang Cheng tries eating again when the bowl of porridge is nudged towards him. Lan Xichen watches for a moment before he suggests, “Why don’t we continue our practice of painting together with this inkstone? Perhaps learning to associate that activity with this can help focus your mind and therefore reduce your worries.”“We can’t both use it unless you’re planning to paint in black and white.”“You could try writing in colour.”Jiang Cheng flashes him a smile, stirring his porridge. “Lan Huan, do you know where this inkstone came from?”“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Every time you talk you’re avoiding eating. Never ask me again why we have a rule against that.”“Haha, are you losing patience with me? Might I remind you that those rules don’t apply here? Oh, speaking of rules…” Jiang Cheng stuffs some food into his mouth. “Remember when we were talking about rules, and how Yunmeng Jiang doesn’t really have any? There’s something I found which links back to this inkstone and to the origins of our sect motto. It’s quite interesting actually—”Lan Xichen folds his hands together, arching his brows.Swallowing another spoonful, “Did you know that my ancestor, Jiang Chi, and your ancestor, Lan Yu, were once friends? It was during their battle with that dragon that they became acquainted, and later they formed a lifelong friendship. Before she left Yunmeng with Meishan Yu, she gave Jiang Chi her musical weapon as a keepsake, which has now become the Yunmeng Jiang bell.”Lan Xichen has yet to attach his bell to his belt, and takes this opportunity to admire it again. “Is that so?”“Mm!”“And was this research you found that ‘something that needed your attention’?”“…yes.”“You may continue explaining, but you must also eat.”“In his memoirs, Jiang Chi wrote that he would have taken her as a sworn sister into his sect and that he offered her a home here… but she was devastated after the battle. She thought she’d failed in her mission to avenge her mother. After she spent so many years hunting down the dragon, she couldn’t accept that she’d been left empty-handed—”“Empty-handed?”“Well, not quite.” Jiang Cheng wiggles his fingers, Zidian glowing on his finger. “Anyway, she came back only once, bringing with her a riverstone that she’d found on her travels, and by then her health was failing. Perhaps it was the curse, perhaps it was the price to pay for stealing a Dragon Pearl. In her final years, Lan Yu had gone to find the place her father claimed he first met her mother.”How strange it is to have actually met the mother of this incredible person. Lan Xichen sometimes forgets she is a Goddess, thinking of her more as a matriarch, as rightly he should. Unlike the distant heroes he’s read about as a child, Zhinü is so warm and kind and… “Wait a minute, the place where Lan An first met Zhinü?”Oh, the inkstone. Once he and Wangji meditated together and had a vision of Lan An, back when he was the Cowherd ‘Niúláng’. The Goddess fell from the sky in the form of what he thought was a meteor, crashing into the lake as the blazing trail of her descent caused all of the water to evaporate. The impact of her landing was what unearthed this rock from the lakebed.“When Lan Yu came to leave this stone with Jiang Chi, she asked him to deliver it to her brother on her behalf, since they had become estranged. That’s how it ended up back with Gusu Lan. She also told Jiang Chi that she didn’t regret what she gave up to do what she felt was right, even if she knew it wasn’t right to have left behind a brother.”Lan Xichen inclines his head. “And then?”“And then… Jiang Chi never saw her again. After that, he chose to honour her with our sect’s motto: ‘attempt the impossible’. It can mean many things, but for Lan Yu, it meant to be dauntless in the face of adversity and to attempt what she knew was likely to fail.” How many times has he been told that only Wei Wuxian understood this? What’s frustrating is the concept itself makes a lot of assumptions about a situation; just because a person doesn’t attempt something doesn’t mean they don’t understand what doing so would require. Sometimes it’s precisely for that reason that they don’t act. It’s not that they don’t care, but because what does charging into action regardless of the consequences or situation achieve in the long-run? There is a time and place for everything—for being brave and for being cautious.Did Lan Yu ever grow weary on her quest, realising it was a hopeless venture and wishing she could go back home? Was the reason she never went back to her brother because she thought she would be unwelcome?She may have told others she had no regrets, and what she did may have been right for herself, but… but Jiang Cheng carried Chénqíng with him for thirteen long years, and all Lan Yu’s brother had to remember her by was the stone she left him, which he presumably carved into this inkstone. These types of regrets are keepsakes left for the living. The dead will never know of them.Perhaps, the one thing he knew she absolutely wouldn’t regret would be her battle with a dragon, because of all things, a dragon! Jiang Cheng can imagine Lan Jin hearing about his sister’s grand adventure and preserving the parts of it he knew she’d want to be remembered.What will be remembered from an adventure such as theirs?There is so much forgotten in these old stories, even when they are grown from a seed of truth. What is known of these legendary figures aside from the trials they faced? Of the gods and goddesses, the sword maidens and dragons, the heart of these people will never be known in place of the story. Even with the best of intentions, Lan Yu has become a cautionary tale or an obscure legend to most who know of her, whilst her mother’s punishment is ironically celebrated as the festival of lovers. The fact that not much can be done to change this, and so much has been forgotten amid all the tragedy and loss… but why does it matter? Why does he care?“Will we become like them someday?” If someday they make it to the history books, the Jiang Cheng of the past would have been so happy, but the Jiang Cheng of the present isn’t quite so sure how he feels about it. “Do you ever wonder what people will say about us in a thousand years when we’re gone?”Lan Xichen’s mouth curves upwards. “Why should we care? Maybe one legend will finally be laid to rest, and ours will replace it as the next great love story—”“Argh, shut up!” Jiang Cheng scowls fiercely. (Replace the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl? Absolutely not!) “But no, what I mean…” (It occurs to him then, what he means.) “What I mean is that we might be remembered in legend, but beyond that, we’ll be forgotten by the world. No one will know us as the people we once were.”Again—why does that matter? Why does that bother him?Lan Xichen is right: why should he care? Being forgotten was what he was hoping for, back when they were basing everything on the legends they knew, with fame and glory coming at the cost of happiness—(If ever our lives were to be written, I would truly be lucky to have mine written by you. Then one day I might hope to rise from this mud)—they said they’d be forgotten together, but the question is…Will they?Could it be possible that they've already ‘risen from the mud’, or are they doing that right now? Are they writing the pages as the days pass by? If what was needed to break the curse was a happy ending, what does it mean that their happiness has only just begun, and is ongoing with no end in sight?There are so many questions.“Wanyin,” that voice is tinged with amusement, “You’re thinking very loud.”“Because there’s a lot to think about!”“That’s true,” Lan Xichen turns back to his painting, placing the inkstone back on the table and dipping his brush, “What’s also true is that… you can never truly be forgotten by the world if you’re remembered by someone you love.”Jiang Cheng stares for a moment and then tucks his head under his husband’s chin.Sometimes it's nice just to be held, especially when things get overwhelming. You can never truly be forgotten by the world if you’re remembered by someone you love, and what if someone loves you? That's when the rest of the world fades from sight. It won’t be long until he gives in to temptation and joins him in painting, but for now, he quietly slurps up the rest of his porridge and observes the master at work.The elegant movements of his brushstrokes are mesmerising, almost lulling him to sleep with the rhythm as he fills the painting with such life… “There are other plans I have for us.”He had been dozing off, but suddenly he twitches awake. “Mm, plans?”“Were you sleeping?”“No, ‘course not. What plans?”Lan Xichen’s chest rises and falls with a long sigh. “Aside from our wedding being held here, in my plans for our lives thereafter… I would have the scent of your hair on my pillow, even when you’re not around. I would have my bookshelves arranged by your preference, left in whatever order you picked them out from your last visit—”“But I’d put them back the same way.”“—I would have my palate broadened to suit your tastes, maybe even gain a tolerance for spice or alcohol—”“What? I’d like to see you try!”(Whilst he listens to all of these ‘plans’, Jiang Cheng squints, and swears he can almost see past the veil of those painted clouds. In a brief glimpse, that wintry scene enfolds him for a breath of time, and he sees that they’re standing on a staircase leading up to a golden door. After that breath is released, that lustrous white city disappears and he’s back in his husband’s arms.What on earth was that? What on earth, unless… that wasn’t ‘earth’ at all—?)“You never know,” Lan Xichen says, leaning back to think. Oh, he’s really thinking about this. Jiang Cheng can hear the cogs turning and cranes his head to look, still a bit rattled by that… whatever that was. “Perhaps cultivation could expel its effects, or purification with the core?”Jiang Cheng scoffs, “What would be the point of drinking alcohol then?”“The point would be that I’d get to drink with my husband. Anyway, I would also have my forehead ribbon tied by you in the mornings, and love to help you comb your hair at night,” he continues, smoothing Jiang Cheng’s hair back and kissing his temple. “I’ll write you more songs, enough of them to fill the night with music—”“We already have a song.”“Yes, but—”“I only need that one.”Lan Xichen pulls him into a crushing hug, because what they had before was merely an embrace. They only need one song. He's absolutely right, one song is all they need. There’s no hiding his heartbeat hammering against Jiang Cheng’s ear, there’s no more hiding between them. He wants him to hear how much he loves him. “I would have our story written by you, by your ink.”“You’ve said that one before, but alright… message received.” Jiang Cheng squirms his way free and takes one of the other brushes Lan Xichen brought. Wait, isn’t this his favourite brush? There’s even a sheaf of paper ready for him and everything. “That’s a lot of plans, Zewu-Jun, do you have any more? Maybe I can write them down.”Somehow, the mood shifts with no outward indication of that change. When Lan Xichen next speaks, it’s as if the light in the room dims, forcing Jiang Cheng to look around in confusion. What did he say? What happened? He finds him looking troubled. “I…”“What is it?” Sitting up in alarm, “What’s wrong?”“How is this going to work between us? Despite all the things I want us to do, we still have our duties and our sects to lead, but… I should know by now, nothing is impossible. That’s what I’ve learnt from this,” he says, smiling ruefully. “Nothing is impossible when I’m with you. Let's not worry. We’ll find a way, won’t we?”Jiang Cheng stays unmoving for a moment. Then he huffs, turning back to lean against his chest. “Of course we will. There’s a solution to this which I’ve told you about already. Don’t you remember?”“…”“What happened to you remembering everything?”Lan Xichen smiles bashfully, “Clearly, I must have forgotten. Please remind me again.”“On the night of our brothers’ wedding, I told you that Meishan Yu doesn’t place as much importance on marriage. That’s why most couples form unions based on mutual affection which are known as ‘walking marriages’. They don’t have to live under the same roof, they are not legally bound to each other, they simply spend time together whenever they want to.” [5]“I asked about children,” Lan Xichen recalls, remembering that conversation after hearing him say this. That night after the wedding, they talked for a long time, and the whole day was a whirlwind of emotion. (He hopes theirs will be the same.) “That's fascinating. What would keep a couple together then?”Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes, because, from Lan Xichen’s expression, he already knows the answer to that question. If this man is going to mess around with him, thinking he’s so funny— “I literally said it’s based on ‘mutual affection’ moments ago. Were you even listening?”“Then with your permission, I’ll take care of you and love you forever.” With the way he says this, it’s either that he has no idea, or he knows precisely what he’s doing to Jiang Cheng’s heart. Lan Xichen leans down to kiss his knuckles, then brings his hand against his chest. “Will you let me?”“…walking marriages, that’s how we’ll do it.”Jiang Cheng can tell he’s being laughed at (quite literally) when a puff of air gusts against his cheek! It’s easy to forgive him though, and somehow… he doesn’t think he’s ever been so alright with being teased like this. Lan Xichen returns to his painting, his chest still stuttering under his hand. “Very good, that’s how we’ll do it. That’s why we need another wedding.”“Oh, is that why?” “Wanyin.” Again, the atmosphere changes in an instant, but Jiang Cheng loves it when he says his name. They could be arguing, he’d probably still feel a tremor of desire. Spoken as tenderly as this, his name feels so precious. So loved.“Whilst I would prefer to always have you with me, I don’t need to be with you every second of the day. Despite that, I hope that one day when we’re older and more settled, perhaps when our time here is over… we might end the day together and walk to the same place we would call ‘home’.” Those words remind him of that vision.The ‘same place’ they would walk to, and that painting Lan Xichen is doing, and both of them standing at that door… could that have been some sort of glimpse into their future? Jiang Cheng wants to tell him that it’s not impossible and that he doesn’t have to hope. Nothing is guaranteed, but they are not Zhinü and Niúláng, to be parted for thousands of years; nor are they heaven’s false blessing, ‘never to be separated’. They are—“Sometimes to be parted, but always to return.”As those words form in his mind, the ink seeps into the paper.There’s a dream collecting at the tip of his brush, the barest whisper of a thought grazing his mind like a dragonfly skirting across a pond.Jiang Cheng works steadily under the eye of a loving God, with no fears hindering his movements. With his mind hovering somewhere ahead of him. With someone keeping his heart warm in their hands. They could wander for ten thousand lifetimes, and they could always find their way back home. Home is not a place. If home is where the heart is, he thinks, then…
Wherever I am, home is with you.
“One more thing,” Lan Xichen murmurs, placing his brush on the stand. “I would have it that I'd need no reason to hold your hand in mine.”No reason was ever needed.“How impractical,” Jiang Cheng chuckles but allows his free hand to be held. “Alright, what else, Lan Huan?”“What else? You tell me what else.”“In that case, turn the page. Leave the rest to me.”And so, he does. ~ The End ~