Chapter Text
"Zewu-xian-ji!"
Lan Xichen was not unused to being called in that frantic tone at all hours of the day, although she did wish it were less frequent. Putting on her outer robe, she exited Hanshi to a group of younger disciples, around the age of Jingyi and Shizui.
She had to remind herself often that although she felt a hundred years old, especially after everything she had to go through, her age was only nine and thirty.
"Yes?" Her voice was still measured, well, she hadn't been sleeping anyway. Sleeping had been a forgotten luxury most days. It might just as well be, considering she had entirely too much on her plate.
"The group hasn't returned yet from Mo Village."
It gave her a pause. They were sent out nearly two days ago to suppress the demonic presence there, and factually, they should already be done with it. Especially when both Shizui and Jingyi are there, two of the most promising cultivators of their generation.
Shizui was, after all, trained personally by the great Hanguang-jun himself, and Jingyi was her son; he had one of the strongest golden cores she had ever seen. And the rest of their crew, Ruoxue especially, is the best in tracking amongst all four major clans at the moment. And Yiran was there too, personally trained by both her and Wangji in healing. She is quite competent for a 17-year-old if Xichen has anything to say.
As on cue, the far east sky of Cloud Recess was filled with a singular blue signal, and a collective gasp went up. A distress signal.
Xichen controlled her composure. She couldn't leave the premises at the moment. Huaisang was due for a visit at any given time. But she knew she didn't have to bother anyway. The soothing melody of the Guqin that enveloped the environment had already stopped, meaning Wangji had gone to attend to the matter.
"Hanguang-jun has gone to investigate the matter. You need not worry. Forcing herself to sound calm and gentle, she eased the youngsters. "Now, go and rest before your Qiren Shifu punishes you for staying past the ninth hour," She added with a conspiratory tone, to which she got slight giggles and whispered smiles in response.
Looking at their retreating backs, Xichen forced herself not to sigh audibly and kept herself from frowning outright. Yes, she was their Sect Leader, but at the same time, she was a mother. Her chest began to fill with trepidation at what might have transpired at Mo village and whether, although selfish, her son was okay.
"I thought you might visit earlier, Huaisang," Xichen said, pouring tea for the Sect Leader of Qinghe Nie. Although it had been nearly a decade since Jue-ge had passed away, it seemed that Huaisang was still preliminary into the matters of handling a sect.
When she looked at him, she still saw the little child who clung to her robes at the age of five, the first time she met him, crying for his brother, the teenager she saw growing up, more fascinated with his tales and fans than real diplomacy or sword fighting. But simultaneously, she saw his eyes taking things in more than they used to, typically wary of the world, as if it was his default. His actions were not uncordial as they once had been, clumsy, yes, but not as predictable, not as ungraceful.
Sometimes, his eyes unsettled hers, a muted green that seemed to know a little too much, but then it switched back into the little boy who cried 'Xichen-jie!', warmth personified, a jubilant smile always on his face.
It couldn't have been easy for him. Mingjue, when he was alive, never was soft with his brother outright, but everybody knew he spoiled him rotten. Huaisang never grew up with the burden of an entire sect on his shoulders, nor had he ever feared that he would have to take on that said burden. Nie Mingjue had always looked the very epitome of what a Sect Leader should be.
God knows how long Xichen needed to get her Sect full within her reins, despite being the named heir since birth.
"I wanted to visit, Xichen-jie. However, I had to make a brief visit elsewhere. There was an incident that required prompt action."
For a second, the glint in Huaisang's eyes reminded her of Mingjue whenever he was getting battle-ready.
Undisputedly, Nie Mingjue was the best hand-to-hand combatant of their generation. Xichen herself was often considered the most gifted cultivator of their time, but even she had beaten him only a handful of times. With brute force, no one could've been Mingjue's equal. And he thrived in it. That is not to say he was homicidal, but good fights gave him spirit and much-needed revenge, even more so.
Seeing her observant look, Huaisang immediately schooled his expressions back to carefree, open, and honest, yet again.
Dear God, Xichen was exhausted.
Lately, it felt like everybody around her had started to wear many masks, many facades. Guangyao was one, and Wangji- well, his face was always unreadable to anyone but her, and for the past 13 years, all she read there was devastation and a cracked visage of heart-wrenching sorrow.
"Sure, you did." Too tired to question Huaisang on his obvious sidestep, Xichen conceded, placing her signature red bean buns- ones that the Nie brothers loved immensely- next to him. At that, the lightness and the happiness in his eyes became genuine, and Xichen felt marginally better.
"My favorite!" Forgoing propriety, Huaisang grabbed the sweet, not waiting for her, his senior in terms of rank and status, to start the meal. Xichen huffed up a breath of amusement when halfway through his first bite, he remembered his manners and dropped the half-eaten bun, his cheeks full like a squirrel eating nuts, large eyes , slightly guilty. She smiled then, truly, letting him know he was fine, and he grinned up at her, the paste evident on his teeth.
She shook her head, despite his six and thirty years, he had not forgotten the childish charm.
"How is Jingyi and Wangji-Xiong?"
"At Mo Village on a night hunt," pouring herself tea, Xichen replied, looking at the one hundred and one scrolls Huaisang had brought with him this time. At the corner of her eye, she noted Huaisang's movements delaying by a second, and she looked up.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, the alarms in her mind ringing faintly.
"Yes, all is well, Jiejie." Clever. Huaisang hardly ever called her that unless he definitely wanted her to focus on that endearment and forget the conversation. But she was Zewu-xian-ji for a reason. She kept her eyebrows raised, waiting for elaboration.
"There was an issue a few months prior in that village, which we were alerted about since it's near the Qinghe Nie border. A man named Mo Xuanyu- causing a ruckus. I was just reminded of that."
Mo Xuanyu. Xichen knew that name. Has heard Guangyao mention it often. He had been his right-hand man until he had gone and fallen for Guangyao. And A-Yao had proclaimed that he had attempted to harass him, and he had struck and banished him from Lanling Jin.
The lore about the man lately was that he had been declared clinically insane and mentally unstable, whispering phrases and incantations like a man with schizophrenia.
"Really? What was the issue?" Opening one parchment, Xichen continued the conversation, not very bothered by the precipice of it.
"That he was following the teachings of Yiiling Laozu." Huaisang's voice was grave, and Xichen's hands gripped the parchment a touch tighter.
"What?"
It can't be. Then that was why Wanyin was so affected by the whole story when Mo Xuanyu was brought up at the last meeting.
Jiang Wanyin was, after all, in an active hunt to annihilate all and every man daring to practice Demonic Cultivation. But Yiiling Laozu's teachings? Wei Wuxian's teachings? They have been lost for years. Xichen would know. Wangji did everything within his power to collect each and every one of his personal articles.
"That's the rumor, although hardly feasible. Many talented cultivators have attempted to replicate his teachings, his methods. No one had succeeded so far." Huaisang's tone was neutral, but there was some feeling dancing behind his green orbs.
"Indeed. Wuxian was not known for making sense of his ration when it comes to his writing," Xichen said carefully, briefly remembering the one time she checked on his work and nearly had an aneurysm.
He was brilliant beyond question, and his methods were unbelievably innovative and creative. The idea itself was thorough and vast, but his notes...one should consider oneself lucky if his handwriting was intelligible itself.
"If one truly wants to replicate that level of talent, perhaps Wei Wuxian needs to be resurrected himself." Xichen meant it to be an offhand remark, without Wuxian even that path was not quite clear, since it was also his finding.
Of course, she had a general idea of the process, as did many high-ranking cultivators, but he was the only one who had succeeded in the shunned way. Thus, her comment was largely layered with amusement and dry humor. But surprisingly, Huaisang's eyes brightened.
"Yes, indeed." Huaisang's voice was smooth, but his eyes held a sense of mirth, although Xichen could hardly find joy in the scenario.
He was up to something, but Xichen was not keen on finding out.
"That is of no matter. But now, Huaisang, you really can't keep traveling to Gusu every time you have to make political decisions. You have been the Sect Leader for nearly a decade. You should be able to decide whether you want to accept- " she paused to read the text on the parchment "- ' the formal invitation to the naming ceremony of Yu clan leaders' third cousin's daughter ' by now" Her voice was dry now, devoid of the tension and teasing beyond the surface.
"Oh, come on, Xichen-jie. Remember the last time I attempted to answer one by myself? I almost caused a civil war among 6 minor clans. I'd rather not take the risk. Besides, I have you. Politic incarnate." He said, adding his puppy eyes to enhance the effect.
"I am not the Sect Leader of Qinghe Nie." Smirking, Xichen replied, already outlining what she could reply with.
"You are still the lady of the Sect, Xichen-jie. It didn't end with Da-ge, nor am I keen on ending it myself. You and Jingyi...are the only family I have left." With uncharacteristic sincerity, Huaisang reached for her hand with both of his, enveloping her left in the middle, defenseless for the first time in the night.
Xichen didn't need any reminders of that; she was already living in the pain of loss with each breath she took. Had it not been for Wangji, Jingyi, Huaisang himself, and Guangyao's encouragement, she would've stepped down a long time ago.
Allowing herself a moment of ingenuity, she squeezed the hands enveloping hers. He might not be the same man he had been when all was well in their lives, but Huaisang was still family. And she owed it to Mingjue - to the love of her life, who had loved her without any empty spaces, without any room to feel otherwise - to keep that family intact.
"I miss him."
"I miss him, too."