Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a time period in Gusu that all the residents looked forward to; the weeks between the end of winter, and the new bloom of spring. It was when the skies lost their gloom, when the last of the stubborn snow melted, and the trees breathed life again. It was during this that the exuberance of Caiyi town on a mid morning, pre-spring day was a beautiful sight to behold.

The streets bustled with a steady traffic of people, merchants in their stalls lined the stone pathways of the inner marketplace while boats sat at the foot of the copious docks with fishermen bringing in their hauls by the net. Workers exclaimed product descriptions and prices as families weaved their way through the chaos of the inner market, and the hung lanterns swung gently in the breeze.

Children scampered afoot, squealing and waving toys in their fists. Sizhui walked steadily beside him, and Jingyi felt as though he was perfectly in his element.

It was Sizhui’s first trip to Caiyi town after he presented. The new alpha was recently cleared to be outside again, after spending a week in the awfulness of his first rut.

Which was so. Cool. In Jingyi’s opinion. His best friend was a super tough and amazing alpha, like Zewu-Jun and Hanguang-Jun! He was even taking special alpha classes now.

His presentation came as a surprise; the two of them were relaxing during their freetime in the back hills, near the bunnies. Jingyi was feeding a black and white spotted one pieces of lettuce from a basket when Sizhui had plopped next to him and promptly laid his head in his lap with a huge sigh. Jingyi had blinked at him in surprise; Sizhui wasn’t one for initiating physical contact. It was usually Jingyi, who was known for slinging an arm around his shoulder or hanging off his friend. Even Sizhui seemed surprised at himself, raising his head and shaking it in confusion. His face was red and his eyes glassy as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

Then, Hanguang-Jun came up from the path, noticed Sizhui, and swifty made his way over. And then, he told Sizhui that he was presenting!

He was ecstatic for his friend, when it was finally revealed what his secondary-gender was. Everyone thought the mild-tempered Lan would be a beta, since he was unassuming and polite with a constant, kind smile on his face; not brash or domineering in the way society portrayed Alphas to be.

Sizhui was ambushed by Jingyi on his first day out of seclusion— with his new scent permeating the air. He smelled very earthy; not the common herb scent betas usually had, but like the mountains after a strong rainfall, with an undertone of something...ashy. It was sharp but soothing. Demanding attention, but at the same time, offering protection. It was...Sizhui.

When he was happy, it was like a fresh bloom of the mountains. The time during spring where everything is renewed and vibrant, with freshly bloomed gentians and tangy pine needles. Angry, he smelled like a growing forest fire, a savage ash of whirling flames, dominating and red. The smell burnt his nose.

Since Sizhui’s scent was fairly new, Jingyi hasn’t gotten to know all his emotional changes. The only other one he barely got a whiff of was sad— a fleeting moment of soured Azaleas— But, he was happy to note them all the same.

When Jingyi asked Sizhui what his rut was like, Sizhui had cocked his head at him with a raised eyebrow, asking why he wanted to know.

“Knowledge, duh,” he had responded like it was a no brainer, waving an ink brush around in the air. They were supposed to be doing work in the library, But, Jingyi was Jingyi, so…

“I wanna know what to expect, A-Yuan! I’m gonna be an alpha too, you know.”

At that, Sizhui’s gaze turned complicated. He glanced away before Jingyi could decipher that look, feigning interest with the corner of paper in front of him.

“It wasn’t anything special,” he said as he brought his gaze back, still picking at the side of the page, “painful...it felt like I wasn’t in my own body, for the most part. First ruts aren’t really…ruts. They’re just your body starting a rapid change into your secondary gender. Which is why it hurts so much.”

Jingyi had filed that little nugget of information away in a cabinet inside his brain. Sizhui was so smart.

And then, of course, when Sizhui was finally good to go, he begged to accompany him. Jingyi was too young to go into town without an adult escort, especially because he was an unpresented pup, but since Sizhui was an alpha and therefore officially labeled as responsible, he’d hoped that they would let them go into Caiyi without one.

They did.

And Jingyi was excited. They never got to explore without supervision. And the senior assigned to them never let them have any fun, anyway—it was always don’t go too far! And stay close to me, or you’ll be copying rules.

Mayhaps Jingyi had made a name for himself by being the child most likely to cause trouble on trips like those. He always felt burning eyes on him, like he was going to make a break for it any second. Just because he did that once or twice didn’t mean he was going to do it again.

The Caiyi trip was like a fresh sip of cold water after being exposed to the raging summer heat for hours on end. He’d been feeling weird for the past few days—like the beginning of the seasonal fever he’d get annually, though, he already had one during that year's winter—and felt like some excitement and new air would have him out of his slump.

As they walked, Jingyi unconsciously strode closer and closer to Sizhui, who was watching the stalls they passed with rapt attention. His scent was comforting, the earthy fragrance like a calm wave crashing over his sweaty body.

Jingyi didn’t notice he was right next to Sizhui until his cheek touched fabric, and his friend’s arm steadied him.

“Jingyi?” Sizhui asked, bending to properly look at his face. His voice sounded muddled and far away, “are you all right?”

He blinked, lethargic. It was hot. Why was it so hot? It felt like the middle of summer; a raging heat that lit him up from the inside, a burning flame that scraped excruciatingly against the barriers of his skin. Everything felt like it was too much—the fabric against his body, Sizhui’s gentle grip on his shoulder, it burned and burned and burned.

It was only the cusp of spring.

“Jingyi? Jingyi?!”

The instantaneous, blinding pain caught him off guard.

It was a fleeting pulse of pure agony from inside his gut, near his lower regions. The suddenness of it had him flinching. The next wave of it had his legs buckling.

He crashed onto the ground in a heap, knees first. The impact of bone against stone hardly registered over the racking spikes of torture currently ravaging its way through his body. Sizhui’s arms held him up, bruising grip and heavy scent a vague comfort. He could indistinctly hear his frantic voice through the fog that took over his brain, but when he opened his mouth to respond, all that came out was a pain-filled keen as he listed to the side.

There was something—something wet between his legs. It was steadily growing more and more. Thick and warm...like—like blood.

Was he bleeding? Why was he bleeding? Did he get...stabbed? Was he hurt? Why didn’t he see it coming, why didn’t Sizhui see it coming—

Cool hands cupped his cheeks. He whimpered, trying to turn away as the sun caused twinges of pain to break out along his temples.

Sizhui’s voice met his ears in nonsensical babble— a blurry mass of words he couldn’t make out. Grey silhouettes in the indistinct shapes of people filled his vision. Men, women, Alphas, betas—

A woman gasped and dropped her basket. The fruit inside clattered onto the dirtied stone and rolled. One of them reached his face, coming to a stop just before his nose. The colors melded together to make a blurred picture.

It was a peach.

The pink, fresh smelling fruit and him had a staring contest for a bit, as his vision blipped in and out of focus and the agony rippled through his torso in rippling waves. Spikes and twinges that soon had him hiccuping in absolute misery.

“Look….an Omega…..poor kid…..Lan….”

Suddenly, the world blurred once more, and he was being lifted into a pair of familiar arms.

There was a steady vibration he could feel rumbling through him. His head was being cradled onto a chest, and—

And Sizhui— Sizhui was growling.

Jingyi felt his hand move as he hid his face in Sizhui’s robe. He didn’t care that the fabric felt like it scratched through his skin— the familiar scent grounded him and provided fleeting solace as it wrapped him in an embrace.

He sobbed deliriously into Sizhui’s chest.

Distantly, he heard the crackling of a flare go off.

Then, in a long awaited moment of freedom, his body finally went limp.

His consciousness slowly and briefly trickled in later on. He didn’t know how much time had passed. Eyes cracking open a sliver, he was met with white, a pungent smell of medicinal herbs, and a never ending trail of agony flowing through his body.

Everything was on fire. His body screamed for relief. He wanted to writhe, to rub himself on the blankets to tear the skin off his body to make the pain cease— but he couldn’t move.

“A-Die, Hanguang-Jun, please let me—“

“He’s going to be fine, A-Yuan.”

“No,” a startling growl blew through the air. It was low, raw and feral. He felt it in his bones and shivered—violently, “I need to see him, A-Die, please—“

There was a pause, and then a brief scuffle. Then he felt something cool being placed to his lips, and a bitter liquid found its way into his mouth, pouring down his throat. He swallowed obediently, desperate for something to quell the burning within him, and then felt his lips moving before his brain could catch up.

“I’m a— omega? No, but….but I— not an omega..am I? It..hurts.. Can’t...no….Lans aren’t—“

Then his vision went black once more.

He woke up again— for good, that time— an undistinguishable time later.

His eyes opened blearily; in the way they do when you sleep for an unsuspected amount of hours.

Sleep crusted them awfully. His stiff body creaked as he slowly pushed himself up, arms wobbling with obvious strain.

Ah— he was in the medical ward.

The moonlight shone in through the open windows and the light drapes danced as a light breeze swept through the simply decorated, square room.

Jingyi sniffed the air and immediately reared back, face scrunching. There were- there were so many new smells. It was interesting and overwhelming— he could pick up on so much more than before, even if he didn’t know what most of the new scents meant.

As he shifted, he groaned in discomfort. Along with the steady pulse of his lower torso, his body felt wet. Lifting up the blankets to look, he noticed that his robes were absolutely soaked through with sweat and...sweat and slick.

“Jingyi,” a voice broke in gently. He jumped and turned, dropping the blankets like they burned.

Zewu-Jun was sitting a little ways away with his Xiao in his lap. The man was immaculate as usual; his hair laden of his usual topknot layed neatly down his back, his robes smoothed perfectly under his knees from where he was resting.

“You’re awake, I see.”

Jingyi fumbled for his words, mortified and blushing red, “Z—Zewu-Jun! What’re you, you— you smell like lavender and—and berries. Why do you have more scents?”

Xichen blinked once. And then again. Then, he laughed. A quiet, soft laugh that had Jingyi flushing in embarrassment. At that point, his face had to be as red as a ripe tomato.

“Those are people who have scented me before,” he explained with mirth shining in the lines of his face, “now that you’ve...presented, you’ll be able to smell more than you could while a pup. It may be overwhelming at first— Ah,well, you’re still a pup but now…”

His voice drifted, tapering off awkwardly, and looking conflicted. After a moment, he sighed.

The man crossed over to the bed, sitting gingerly on the side of it. He looked Jingyi square in the eyes.

“Now you’re an omegan pup.”

Jingyi flinched back from him as everything he feared came crashing down at once. His lip wobbled, and a weight of shame and disappointment crushed him from above as he clutched his bed sheets.

The back of his throat burned. He blinked back tears.

“But I— I don’t want to be. Can’t I hide it? Didn’t the Yiling Laozu take suppressants, I—“

“No,” Zewu-jun interrupted vehemently. The demand seemed to shock both of them. Xichen’s eyes widened and tears cascaded down Jingyi’s cheeks as his body reacted in an indescribably unfamiliar and weird way; like he had disappointed the most important person on earth, and was suddenly trying to figure out what to do to rectify the mistake.

It wasn’t until he could think again that he realized he had bared his neck to the Sect leader— in a show of submission.

It was then that reality hit him full force. He...really was an omega.

Disgust clouded his mind in a sudden spark of prominent self hatred. His mind buzzed with white noise as the derogatory word of omega, omega, omega repeated a shameful mantra in his mind.

Jingyi jumped when he felt a gentle hand over his own. He shivered and hated how he leaned into the touch.

“My apologies, Jingyi,” Zewu-Jun said softly, “Suppressants are dangerous, you know this. I...knew…someone who used them, and it did not end up well. I did not mean to lash out at you, okay?”

Despite the fact that Zewu-Jun spoke like he was talking to a child, his anxiety went down. He couldn't find it within himself to be annoyed, or even think about being annoyed.

Stupid biology.

“You are the first inner discipled omega that has presented here in…generations. The Lans are... ninety percent alphas. You’ve learnt that in class, no?”

Jingyi scoffed. It was true; Gusu Lan was known for producing many promising Alphas; on par with Lanling Jin and the Wen sect, before the Sunshot campaign. While Yunmeng Jiang, true to its easy going nature, produced many betas.

Even in the non-inner disciples, there were only about two studying omegas.

“Then why,” he said bitterly, “wasn’t I an Alpha?”

Zewu-Jun sighed, “you know I cannot explain that, Jingyi.”

“Ah, don’t look at me like that. Listen, I know you may feel like it is, but it really is not as big of a deal as you think it is. Omega or not, you are still a Gusu Lan disciple and will be treated with the utmost respect. Nothing major will change from now on, you’re still Lan Jingyi.”

But I’m an omega, Jingyi thought, everyone is going to look at me differently.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he picked at a loose thread on the blanket.

“Now, here,” Xichen said, reaching into his Qiankun pouch. Jingyi looked on curiously as he pulled out a rectangular box.

It was simply decorated; a shiny wooden enclosure with a white trim on the side.

“You are an omega of Gusu Lan,” Jingyi swallowed the bile in his throat, “as your Sect Leader, I present to you the official collar of Gusu— it names your status as well as your family. But, more importantly, it’s protection.”

“I—“ Jingyi stuttered, tongue feeling too thick for his mouth. His jaw shut with an audible click, eyes darting around.

With shaking hands, he took the box from the man and opened it.

Inside, set beautifully against a silk pillow was a collar. It was a stunning white that had a lock in the back, and from the front hung the Cloud Recesses motif in spotless silver.

His fingers brushed the surface; it was leather. Smooth and soft.

Taking each end, he slowly lifted it up without making eye contact, wrapping it around his neck.

As he clicked it shut, he felt euphoric. Like he had just sealed his fate with his own hands, like he willingly stepped into a shackle that would hang him by the neck for all to see. With the brand of omega brandished above him.

“Don’t lose the key,” Zewu-Jun said, voice gentle, “now...Jingyi…”

“Huh?” He asked, only semi-comprehending.

“Will you allow me to scent you?”

Jingyi blinked, throat spasming as he brought himself back to the present.

“Scent...me?”

“Mhm,” Xichen confirmed, “If I scent you, other people will be able to smell my scent on you. It might fade with time, but it’ll never go away. When other people scent you, they’re able to tell who has before. It provides the omega comfort, and it gives the packmates reassurances when the omega is wearing their scent.”

Jingyi twiddled his fingers, “...okay.”

Xichen smiled, Jingyi tried to smile back.

Then, very gently, Zewu-Jun picked up his left wrist and gently rubbed his nose over it. Jingyi shivered, jumping, wondering why they felt so sensitive.

“These are your newly developed scent glands,” Lan Xichen explained as he moved to the other wrist,“you have some on your wrists and on either side of your neck. For scenting, most people will scent you on your wrists, and for the ones closest to you, the neck.”

When he was finished, Xichen placed both his wrists down on his lap. Jingyi felt disoriented— but in an oddly good way. Almost like the feeling he got after taking a relaxing bath.

Content, warm, soft. Like he was floating.

His chest vibrated some; and if he wasn’t as pliant and hazy as he was now, he would be mortified that he was purring.

“Say, Zewu-Jun,” Jingyi slurred as he was laid down by his Sect Leader’s gentle hands,“what do I smell like?”

“Peaches,” the man responded. His voice sounded far away, “ripe peaches in the middle of summer. Sweet.”

Jingyi blinked sleepily as he thought back to the woman and her peaches.

How funny the world was.

This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

Chapter Text

“A-Yuaaaaan, stoooop.”

The day Jingyi presented as an omega was one of the worst ones in his life. After waking up and speaking with Zewu-Jun, he slept until the next day, until the last of the aches and pains finally ceased.

Then he was kept in the medical ward for yet another night.

And, apparently, he wasn’t out for a day or two like he originally thought. According to A-Yuan, he’d been asleep for a week. In and out of fever and such dizzying pain, he didn’t remember waking up during that time at all— except once.

“Sizhui, really…”

When he was finally cleared for visitors, he didn’t feel new or enlightened in the way A-Yuan described the experience to be. Instead, he felt filthy and lesser, like dirt on the bottom of a shoe. Lan Qiren had met with him, and in his own gruff, no-nonsense way, explained what was to happen.

First of all, he’d be given his own dormitory away from the Alpha and Beta buildings, which he’d move into as soon as possible. Second, he’d have extra classes. Specifically, classes for Omegas.

He wouldn’t be taking the class with anyone else, since the other two training omegas were older than him and did not need said teachings at their age.

So, he wouldn’t get to take the classes he fantasized about with Sizhui; instead, he’d probably learn how to sew, or something.

“Sizhui, for the last time, I’m going to be fine. Stop scenting me!”

Sizhui took his wrist away from Jingyi’s neck, dropping his arm back to his side sheepishly. The alpha had insisted on accompanying him down the mountain and to the woman who instructed his class. The path was...rather nice; a hidden trail neatly cut with colorful wildflowers and tall grass lining the sides, delicate tree leaves casting shade down from the thick canopy above. The sunlight caught on each individual blade of grass and flower petal from where it peaked through the speckled openings.

It was one of the pleasant things about the situation.

“Sorry, Jingyi,” Sizhui apologized, keeping stride with the omega. If he noticed Jingyi was dragging his feet, purposely walking slower than normal, he graciously said nothing about it, “you know I worry.”

Rolling his eyes, Jingyi watched as a butterfly glided past his vision and into the thick bundle of wildflowers growing in a round patch to his left. The delicate monarch fluttered its wings in a standstill above the pistil, before latching onto one of the brown anthers. His eyes widened a fraction when a bird—a Raven— swooped down from the sky and gobbled up the colorful creature, doing a swoop as it took to the clouds once more.

How easy the butterfly was taken by the raven. There wasn’t even a seconds chance between predator and prey. The moment's battle was over as soon as it began.

Jingyi swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Worry about what?” He scoffed after a few seconds, “I can take care of myself, you know.”

Sizhui’s eyes flickered up, and Jingyi watched curiously as the angle caused the light to reflect on his face in a different way; it made the shadows of his cheekbones and jawline more pronounced. His brown eyes looked like pools of thick honey.

“Of course, I know that,” a cool breeze swept through and ruffled their hair. While Sizhui didn’t even flinch, Jingyi sputtered, “you’re the strongest person I know, Jingyi.”

Glaring through his eyebrows, Jingyi replied, “flattery will get your alpha ass nowhere, Sizhui.”

Sizhui’s eyes flashed. He raised one of his eyebrows; a mannerism he probably learned from Hanguang-Jun.

“Yeah, Language. Sorry…” Jingyi mumbled back. He toed his boot into the dirt, kicking some into the air.

“I worry because you’ll be alone with someone”, Sizhui pursed his lips, “and I...I don’t know them.”

Jingyi nudged him with his elbow. More like jabbed, if the muted squawk Sizhui let out was any indication, “so? Why does that bother you? We’re training to be cultivators, A-Yuan, so we’re gonna be with unknown people a lot when we start going on investigative night hunts anyway.”

Sizhui winced, looking like an unpleasant thought just occurred to him. He fidgeted with the corner of his sleeve, adjusting them obsessively even though they were unwrinkled and immaculate.

“Maybe it’s just...an instincts thing,” he put a finger to his chin, “I’ll have to ask A-Die.”

Hanguang-Jun was one of the most respectable and cool alphas ever, in Jingyi’s mind. As a kid, he looked up to the man. Admired the way he wielded a sword, how he could control his scent, how he could walk in a room and demand respect without a word.

People looked at Lan Wangji in a different way than they would view Lan Jingyi.

(So, Imagine his surprise when Hanguang-Jun asked Jingyi if he could scent him. Him! Jingyi!

He might’ve agreed too fast.

And he immediately broke out into an infuriating purr. He was mortified to this day.)

“But, as A-Die says, instincts aren’t everything. If you let yourself be blinded by your secondary gender you’ll never be able to show the person you are besides that label.”

Jingyi huffed, turning to Sizhui with a half-grin, “you’re so cheeky, A-Yuan.”

He startled when he felt a large hand on his lower back, nudging him forward. His mouth opened to say something, when—

“And,” Sizhui continued, kind eyes boring into his, “since you’re, like I said, the strongest person I know, I know that you’ll do great in your classes.”

Blinking, Jingyi slowly craned his neck toward the path, and his eyes found a cutesy little cottage.

The dirt trail ended where a two step, smooth stone stoop that led to a patio. There was a small table outside with a smoking incense burner placed inconspicuously on top. There were two circular windows on the front side—in Gusu’s signature style— with light, flowy drapes that partially obscured the inside.

On the porch, stood a small, stern looking woman in a beautifully decorated, delicate hanfu.

She was older looking, with a faded mating bite proudly showcased by the lower collar of her robes.

Her smell, a soothing apple cinnamon, drifted toward them as the wind blew.

“You’re also a damn traitor, Sizhui.”

Frozen in a trance of, this is it, this is happening, Jingyi didn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground.

It was Sizhui who approached her first.

The lady raised an eyebrow at him as he bowed at the neck; the typical alpha bow.

“Laoshi, my name is Lan Sizhui,” he spoke regally, “I am here escorting my friend, Lan Jingyi.”

Taking that as his cue to step up, Jingyi fumbled to Sizhui’s side and fell into a clumsy omega’s bow, bending at the waist with his head facing downwards.

“This one greets Laoshi,” Jingyi said, monotonously.

“Hmph,” she grumbled. The woman reminded Jingyi severely of Lan Qiren. His sweat dropped nervously, “you’ll be a lot of work.”

Flushing angrily, Jingyi sputtered, shot up and exclaimed, “Hey! I—”, but cut himself off at Sizhui’s look.

The woman’s scent changed into something lighter; an undertone of sweet cream paired with her original smell. Amused. She was smiling slightly—barely a twitch of the lips— when Jingyi met her gaze.

“Come, come, young one,” she waved her hand, gesturing at Jingyi to come forward. Her fingernails were painted a lively yellow,  “Alpha, will you be coming to escort him back?”

“Why do you look at me like that, Lan Sizhui? You think I would let an unmarked omega trek through the woods alone?”

Sizhui did not lift his head up from his salute. His eyes glittered and his lips twitched upwards, showing the one dimple he had on his face,  “of course not, Laoshi. I will be back to retrieve him at wǎnshɑnɡ. Goodbye Jingyi!”

Jingyi’s shoulders dropped, he halfheartedly waved back, “...see ya, Sizhui.”

As his friend’s white clad back disappeared down the trail, Jingyi was alone with the beast.

“What are you waiting for, child? Come inside, take your seat,” she looked at him gravely, “we don’t have all day.”

The inside of the cabin was as welcoming as the outside. It was a small space with six desks lined in two rows in the middle of the room. At the front of it was a square podium, with a hand sewn tapestry hanging behind it. The characters lined down the front were too far away for him to make out; but the designs seemed professionally crafted and beautifully embroidered.

There were also bookshelves that lined the walls of the classroom, along with scrolls and stacked inkstones.

Unsure of where to sit, Jingyi knelt at the middle seat of the front row.

“My name is Nan Lian, you may simply call me Laoshi,” the tiny woman bustled around the room as Jingyi fidgeted with the hem of his robes— and then started playing with the side of his collar. She grabbed a few books, an ink stone and brush, and two pieces of paper, “I married into the Nan family some years ago. My husband and I are both scholars, and I’ve been appointed to provide education to the Omegas of Caiyi town, and those studying in the cloud recesses. As few as there may be.”

When she finished collecting supplies, the woman gave the room a stern once over. To Jingyi, it seemed as though she was never going to lose her frown. He was wondering if the slight, bare hint of a smile she displayed earlier was a figment of his imagination.

Then, she surprised him by kneeling at the other side of his desk.

“Stop fidgeting with your collar,” She commanded, folding her delicate hands together. Jingyi immediately dropped his hand, “now, Lan Jingyi. Tell me what you know about being an omega.”

“Uh, well,” Jingyi rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around, “we’re...the last on...the secondary gender...chain? Lesser than—”

“Wrong.”

Nan Lian grabbed one of the papers and spun it toward him.  He jumped back before the sharp corner could cut his hand. Then, rather aggressively, she dabbed her brush into the ink stone, with such force Jingyi was rather impressed it didn’t break.

He watched as she drew three separate lines going vertically along the paper; each with a character breaking them up.

Jingyi recognized the symbol for Omega immediately.

When she finally pulled back, Jingyi read the characters from bottom to top.

Omega — Beta — Alpha.

“You are correct in one thing, we are the third and final subcategory of secondary genders,” she explained, “however, Lan Jingyi. Let me tell you this. The fact that Omega falls last on this list means nothing. It does not mean we are inferior. It does not mean we are lesser.”

“Wh—what? But that doesn’t make sense, omegas are inferior to the other two, it’s written in—ow!”

He snatched his hand back as pain erupted on his hand, cradling it to his chest. To his embarrassment, he let out a small whimper of distress, “what was that for!?”

Nan Lian pointed her brush— the one she just hit him with— at his face, “I will not tolerate that talk in my classroom, child.”

There was silence as the two glared at each other, before Jingyi finally relented with a heavy sigh, laying his hands back on the desk.

“Hmph,” she tisked, sliding the papers away from them and plopping a book in its place, “fine. We’ll come back to this exercise later. Now, let's talk; I supposed you’ve noticed you have a new opening in your body, no?”

Classes with Nan Lian consisted every other day; while the days he didn’t have her, he was taking his other classes; most notably, his cultivation and combat studies.

He didn’t know which was worse.

With Nan Lian, he learned about the fundamentals of being an omega; why his hips were getting wider, why there was a seemingly permanent chub that appeared on his lower belly, why he was going to start having heats when he was 16— as well as the functions of the other two secondary genders, like how omega’s content pheromones have a positive, calming impact on both alphas and betas.

Back in the Cloud Recesses, he learned about history; how Omegas were only cleared to be cultivators around fifteen years ago, and how the Yiling Patriarch was one of the only omegas to ever have power, which is why it went to his head and he—

But, there was his combat training. He wasn’t as apt with a sword as Sizhui was; his friend moved with expertise through the battlefield, a ferocious dance written in a code of arching swords and flowing movements only known to himself.

When it came to sword fighting and Guqin, Sizhui was the star of their class—their classes were together, even though Jingyi was a year younger. The older ones helped the younger ones, but they normally stuck to their own groups to spar.

And Jingyi...well, Zewu-Jun has complimented his archery on numerous occasions. Which...counted for something, at least.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy classes in the Cloud Recesses, even if some were boring.

He just... with every class, he felt the stares.

Eyes burning into the back of his head, into his collar, into his waist. They judged him from all sides, gazing at him as though he was an unknown artifact on display. He saw the doubt in his classmates eyes as he stepped up to the target, heard the whispers that were against the rules as he was put against an Alpha for sparring.

Sizhui tried to ward them off, with low growls and fierce glares; and he’d tell him, don’t listen to them, Jingyi, it’s not true.

You’re just as capable as the rest of us.

As years went by, the stares got less and less frequent as people got used to him; only reappearing when he did something notable. Like break a rule, shoot a bullseye, knock a sword out of someone's hand during a match— even if he didn’t feel as much like a walking freakshow, it didn’t mean they weren’t there.

He remembered, during one of his classes, he had been angry throughout the day after overhearing a female beta disciple talking about the omega that can actually shoot.

Her friend had asked, can he actually?

Jingyi walked out from behind the corner at that moment, glaring at the girls as he stomped down the path, feeling an odd sense of pride at the way they jumped.

But, he was pissed; and decided to show everyone he was the omega that could actually shoot.

So, he closed his eyes, knocked three arrows, felt the strength of the wind as it ruffled his hair and rippled his robes, and shot.

When he opened them, he was met with three perfect bullseyes and a silent field.

Someone started to clap—probably Sizhui—, but then the senior overseeing their training for the day while Hanguang-Jun was out on business, said, “boasting oneself is forbidden. Lan Jingyi, copy the Lan Sect rules once in the library after class.”

Jingyi’s face burned red in humiliation. Such overwhelming fury bubbled up in his gut, he almost stormed off the field; Sizhui hurried to him and stopped him before he could, releasing his scent to calm him down.

It would’ve worked, if the instant calming effect it had on him didn’t piss him off even more.

He ignored everyone for the rest of that day.

“Jingyi? Jingyi, c’mon, you’re up,” Jingyi cracked open his eyes when he heard Sizhui’s voice, as well as a hand shaking his shoulder.

He pushed himself up from where he was reclined against a tree trunk, rubbing his eyes. His jaw creaked as he yawned, and he paused, surprised he hadn’t been yelled at for dozing.

“Jeez, already?”

Batting Sizhui’s hands off him as he tried to lift him off the ground, Jingyi rolled forward onto his calves and jumped to his feet.

Today there were having sparring matches; Sizhui’s class and his. A tournament of sorts; used to gauge progress and improvements. It was always riveting; Jingyi remembered watching the older classes fight when he was a child. He had always been awed at their gracefulness.

And now, it was Jingyi’s turn to fight.

They were still using practice swords. Sizhui had gotten his spiritual sword already, and Jingyi was going to get his in a month or so; but since many of them didn’t have their spirit weapons or were just learning how to use them, it would be fair to use the same medium.

He grabbed a wooden sword off the rack and swung it around as he walked up to the makeshift ring; an area cut out of the sand.

Bowing to Hanguang-Jun and the senior by his side, he turned to do the same to his opponent.

The boy he was fighting was a tall beta; lean built, with hard eyes. He stood carelessly for a Lan preparing for a fight; like he was expecting this match to be over and done with as soon as it started.

Those eyes were ones that underestimated his opponent severely, if Jingyi could say for himself.

He got into a fighting stance, watching as the beta idly did the same.

There was a tense, anticipating silence, and the crisp, “begin!” had the atmosphere shattering as lightning crackled in the air.

Their blades met in two swift arches and a clack of wood against wood. The beta went for a side strike, Jingyi parried. His opponent went for a jab, he blocked. Rinse, repeat.

It went on like this, both of them flitting around in the signature style of Gusu Lan, in swoops and twirls and high jumps as they looked for that opening, that winning blow.

Jingyi felt sweat bead down his face and collect on his palms as their swords met on the blade in blurs of attacks. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, propelled by a desperate want to win, win, to show them.

The beta moved in in two quick steps. They were so close; Jingyi could smell his crisp, mint and pine cone scent. It burnt his nose.

He was so absorbed in the fight, the world turned into a blur. He moved without thinking, his feet dancing into spins and evades, blocks and attacks on their own. The world around him blurred as his focus centered on two things; the cocky beta and a future victory.

The beta’s wooden sword swooped up into a wide arc. Jingyi prepared to parry— but when the other hand came up, the sword dropped down, the world spun, and—

Jingyi landed scrawled back on his ass.

He panted for a solid five seconds before the world finally caught up with him.

He had lost.

The sweat on his back instantly went cold, adrenaline giving way to dread and shame.

He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, clenching and unclenching his fists in the sand. A drop of perspiration slid down his chin and landed decisively on his robe.

Looking down, he pushed himself up without a word.

The Senior overseer spoke, but it all sounded muddled. When he spared a glance at his opponent, at the stupid beta, he found that he didn’t even seem bothered. Like their match was nothing, like it was that easy.

In a daze, he started walking to where Sizhui was standing.

“Jingyi,” Hanguang-Jun called, stopping him in his tracks, “you did well.”

There was an almost tender look on the man’s face. It almost made him want to smile back.

Instead, he bowed—the omegan bow—and said, “thank you, Hanguang-Jun.”

The next day, he didn’t wait for Sizhui before walking to Lian-Laoshi’s cottage. He had felt numb since yesterday, and couldn’t even enjoy the walk. That night, he had kept telling himself that it was just a match, just a match, just a match— but the tears came anyway. And for once, hidden in his private dorm, he didn’t feel weak for crying.

Nan Laoshi’s lesson that day had talked about Alpha commands, and how they affected Omegas. It was important— he knew it was important— but the focus didn’t come. During one of her spiels, Jingyi murmured, “well, of course an Alpha command would have total control over an omega. We’re inferior, anyway.”

It didn’t even take a second for her to appear in front of him.

Nan Lian had slammed her brush onto his desk; Jingyi didn’t even jump.

“Lan Jingyi! Have I not told you before that I will not tolerate those words in my classroom? Or do you just not listen?”

“But its true!” Jingyi exploded, pounding his hands, open palmed, onto the wood as he burst from his seat, “can’t you see that? Omegas are inferior, it’s in our blood. Wasn’t there a reason we weren’t allowed to be cultivators until the reform act?!”

“Just because we can bear children or be commanded by a powerful alpha, does not mean we’re lesser—!” She shot back.

“Then what does it mean, Laoshi!? Why are we more sensitive, why are we looked down upon? Why, why, why!?— I just, I just...I dun’want this curse anymore.

“I’m tired of the stares, and the pity, and the babying. I’m tired of people looking at me when someone mentions the Yiling Patriarch, or the reform act. I’m sick of people treating me like I’m a child holding a sword when I’m just as capable as them!

“I’m sick and tired of it, Laoshi. I...I don’t want this part of me anymore. I hate it.

“I fucking hate it. I wish I could just...make it disappear. I wish I was anything else.”

The deafening silence that spread between them was expected. Jingyi tried blinking away the tears that glided down his face in rivets, chest heaving and arms quivering.

He looked up to see Nan Lian’s expression; and was surprised to see her wide-eyed, mournful face. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a frantic voice from outside.

“Jingyi? Jingyi are you in there?”

Sizhui came barreling through the door, looking around with fearful eyes until he finally saw Jingyi. His form melted in relief.

“Oh, thank the gods, A-Ming, you’re here. Why did you leave without me? Are you—why are you crying? What happened…”

Sizhui’s fretting faded into the background. He remained pliant as he scented him, sparing one more look at Nan Lian before falling into Sizhui’s side.

He was tired.

“I’m fine, Sizhui. Let’s...let’s go. Can you…just take me back? Please…”

All he could think of on the way back was how much he wanted to rip the omega out of him and burn it.

This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

Chapter Text

“Caiyi is having a festival soon, Jingyi, will you go?”

Jingyi’s attention didn’t switch to Sizhui when he spoke, instead, the omega focused on the street vendor in front of him. The man was selling wind chimes, and one in particular caught his eye; a long one, furnished with clear crystals that glittered rainbow when the sun hit them just right. Long tassels hung from the end, and beads clinked along with the metal chimes that sung in the wind.

It was expensive, and he doubted he could afford it. But it was beautiful. Pretty to look at, and meant to be on display.

“Yeah, sure, maybe. You think they’ll have fried chicken?”

Sizhui let out a low chuckle, his scent fresh and content. His friend was eyeing a tiny, crystal bunny figurine on one of the street vendor’s shelves. Jingyi could barely see it, but Sizhui could look over the shelves with ease.

Alpha genes, Nan Lian had told him, they grow like weeds. Aiya, all of them are tall.

“I could chaperone you, if you would like to go,” Sizhui replied breezily. Jingyi wandered to the other side of the shelf, peeking through the wood at Sizhui’s torso. Without a second thought, he reached through and poked his stomach, giggling when Sizhui jumped.

“Chaperone, huh. I’m fourteen, do you really think I still need a chaperone?” Jingyi scoffed.

“You’re an unmated omega, Jingyi,” Sizhui replied dutifully, “a chaperone is for your protection.”

The smaller boy rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. Before Sizhui could start on another mini lecture of all the rules omegas had to follow— which, was weird, because Jingyi was the omega and he didn’t even know all the rules— and why, Jingyi picked up the little bunny figurine and pressed it into Sizhui’s palm.

“You should get this for Hanguang-Jun, I think he’d enjoy it.”

Predictably, Sizhui brightened, smiling gently, “ah, you’re right, Jingyi! A-Die would love this.”

To the disciples, it wasn’t really a well kept secret that Hanguang-Jun loved rabbits.

“Hah! I’m a genius, Sizhui! Now go pay before the street vendor guy’s glare burns us in half.”

As Sizhui chatted up the vendor, Jingyi surveyed the market.

Caiyi town was always lively; it’s part of the reason he loved it so much. Always moving, always sellers shouting, constant clusters of children running around, and most notably; the smell of food permeating the air.

(He avoided it when he first presented. The memory, the humiliation was too much. It wasn’t until Jingyi learned to forcefully ignore the stares— no matter how sticky they made him feel.)

Though Caiyi town was in Gusu, they had much more interesting and flavorful food. It was a nice vacation from eating the Cloud Recesses bland cuisine.

Around them, the market was more than crowded. It was that time of year; when the streets were lined with more vendors than usual; traders from other towns bringing in their boats or trade from far away.

It was all in preparation for one of Caiyi’s annual trading festivals. Events that drew people from all over, with the promise of rare items and new trade. It brought in a lot of money, but more importantly, a lot of fun trinkets.

A vendor setting up down the road caught his eye. There was a girl setting up, laying out different fabrics and hanging them from the top banner. They were robes, and from where Jingyi was standing, they looked expertly and elegantly crafted.

“Hey, Sizhui, I’m gonna go look over there.”

Sizhui frowned at him and opened his mouth to respond, but Jingyi was already walking toward the girl.

She noticed him immediately. She was small, but curved, with a delicate face and large eyes. She wore dark green robes that complimented her pale skin wonderfully. Her hair, he noticed; was tied into tighty braids that were knotted with a gold pin at the top of her head.

“Jiejie,” he greeted politely, bowing, “I was interested in what you’re selling.”

He frowned when he got no response, slowly coming out of his bow to find her staring.

Specifically, at his collar.

An awkward silence passed, until she finally spoke.

“You’re an omega.”

Jingyi flinched violently at that, indignation rising up in his throat, a protest, an angry yell, something lodged in his throat—but, it wasn’t something he could deny. It was a simple statement, and it was a correct one.

Fists shaking and white knuckled, he turned to walk away when the girl continued.

“You’re an omega and you don’t take suppressants?”

Jingyi’s blood froze, his heart in his throat.

Eyes darting from side to side he answered, “what?”

“I—“ She began, looking off to the left, “come back here, little omega.”

Too stunned to say no, he followed her into a little tent in the back of the vendor.

It was spacious, filled to the brim with wooden boxes of clothes and silks. There were stools of thread lined on top of some stacks. Jingyi brushed away the curtain as he stepped inside.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just surprised, as all.”

Jingyi toyed with his sleeve, “do..do all omegas take suppressants where you’re from?”

The girl sighed. She walked over to an unorganized pile of fabric, and began to fold.

“Yes. My family comes from a small clan. It’s dangerous to be an omega; there’s so little everywhere, we’re so desirable that it’s dangerous. So I’m…used to it. Used to Omegas hiding who they are, not wearing a collar to avoid suspicion. That’s why I found it odd…when we arrived in Caiyi town, and there were no omegas. I thought it was like us, at first, until I heard how little there actually was here.”

“In the cloud recesses, there’s only three. You’re one of them.”

In Gusu, and therefore Caiyi, there was a predominant absence of omegas. It was mostly because of the ancestry. Most in the Cloud Recesses were Alphas, and that can be said about the native citizens of Caiyi. Though, now there’s much more betas around.

Omegas, however, Jingyi has only seen five.

(Two of them were in Gusu, outer disciples studying to be healers. Another was a seamstress he saw in passing, being watched over by her Alpha husband as she worked. There was also a child he saw, once, that ran through his legs giggling as she chased her younger, unpresented brother to the docks.

The final one, he saw sitting on steps in front of a small house. He had a big pregnant belly that was obvious under his loose robes. There was another child in his arms, about a year old, and an older one sitting next to him fiddling with a long blade of grass.

It was the man’s eyes that shook him to his core.

There was no light in them. No shine, no sign of life; it was as if he had given up on life completely. Like he didn’t care what happened anymore, and had resigned his freedom.

Jingyi had ran, and ran, until he was back being Gusu’s gates. He knew Sizhui would be mad at him, heard him yelling to come back, but he couldn’t bare to look at that man any longer— because the more he looked the more he saw himself, and a future he could be subjected to.

He vowed that he would never be like the other omega, he would never lose his fight, or his freedom, he could never—)

The girl wasn’t deterred at his lack of response, instead, she flitted around the room like a fairy, grabbing fabrics and folding them into a neat bundle. He watched, curious, as she took a pouch and tucked it neatly between them, before tying the wrap together with a blue ribbon.

He was frozen as she held out the bundle to him.

“If you use these herbs to make tea, it will totally repress your scent.”

Jingyi held the bundle in his arms. The silks themselves weighed almost nothing, but it felt as though he was bracing the weight of the world on his hands. His breath stuttered.

“Really? Like...you mean…nobody will be able to tell that I’m an…omega?”

The girl smiled at him, slight and sweet. Jingyi was suddenly struck with the realization that she looked tired—with prominent dark smudges under her eyes, and skin that at first glance looked a regular pale, but was a deathlike pallor.

His hands tightened around the bundle, throat tight as the split second elation he felt at the prospect of being perceived differently for once faded into an oddly placed unsurity.

It was odd. Jingyi had always told himself that if he ever had the chance to take suppressants, he would. If he could suppress his submissive instincts, his sweet, telling scent— he would.

(But he also thought about the time he presented, and asked why couldn’t he just take suppressants, and remembered the vehemence Zewu-Jun replied with when he said No.)

“I—“

Before he could finish, the curtains obscuring the entrance opened in a flourish, revealing an anxious looking Sizhui.

“Jingyi, please, you’re not allowed to go off on your own, I keep telling you that,” he sighed. It took a moment before it took in his surroundings, eyes widening for a split second before melting into something pleasant. He bowed.

“Ah, Jiejie, thank you for keeping an eye on my friend,” he said. Jingyi, decidedly, did not like the gleam in his eye.

“She wasn’t keeping an eye on me, Sizhui. I keep an eye on myself,” he rolled his eyes, “it’s not like if I leave your supervision for five minutes I'm going to get snatched up and whisked away like a defenseless maiden.”

Sizhui closed his eyes for a second. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

“Oh, is this your alpha?” The lady asked. It was phrased as a question, but there was an odd severity in her tone. Her narrowed eyes darted suspiciously between the two.

Jingyi flushed red, part indignant and part embarrassed. Sizhui, however, was unfazed, “no, JieJie, I merely chaperone him when he goes out.”

Understanding dawns on her face, smoothing away the harsh lines of her frown, “ah, I see. Gongzi, your friend here has just bought something from me.”

Sizhui turned to him, eyes bright and a genuine smile on his face. Jingyi scowled, and would’ve crossed his arms if he wasn’t holding the bundle.

“Oh? That’s a surprise,” he turned to the girl, “Jingyi never buys anything for himself, unless it’s fried chicken.”

“Shut up, Sizhui!”

Ignoring Sizhui’s quiet laughter, he turned— red faced— to the omega woman and bowed stiffly.

“Thank you, jiejie.”

Sizhui put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and the girl quietly gasped.

“Come now, Jingyi, you need to eat, and then we must get back.”

Jingyi tucked the bundle into his qiankun pouched and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, stop mothering me. You sure you’re not the omega?”

“...Yes, Jingyi, I’m sure.”

Jingyi felt odd after that. Guilty and unsure. And of course, Sizhui noticed.

They had settled on a table near the docks, at a small restaurant right by the water. They had been served a while ago, and like always, Jingyi had filled his plate first.

If there was one thing good about being an omega, it was that he got to eat first. During mealtimes in Gusu, Jingyi would serve himself first, as one of the only omegas. Then the betas, and then the Alphas. It was awkward at first, and Jingyi always felt bad and hurried to pick the vegetables to eat along with his rice. He’d rush so insanely quickly, that most of the time he’d always somehow grab something he didn’t like. Like Carrots.

Nan Lian explained that one of the Gusu Clan’s priorities when it was first established was making sure the non alphas were comfortable and happy before they got any luxuries.

“Very noble of them,” his Laoshi had said during one of their classes, “unlike those scoundrels from Lanling.”

“...What’s wrong with Lanling, Laoshi?” At the time, Jingyi had just been glad he managed to curb the conversation from the looming discussion of omegan maturity and to Lanling Jin. Not that he had been interested in learning anything about that pretentious pack of gold wearing peacocks, but...the vehemence in Nan Lian’s voice piqued his curiosity. Lan Qiren was always saying, (read: scolding) that his curiosity was “unbecoming” and, “problematic” and, “Unomega-like”.

(To which Jingyi replied, “do you even know what’s omega-like and what isn’t, Lan Laoshi? You don’t seem like you’ve met one before.”

He bit his tongue afterwards, cursing himself as Qiren’s face went purple and he started yelling louder. Regret wasn’t in the equation, until Jingyi saw how many rules he had to copy for that comment.)

“Sexist, misogynistic, knot-headed pack full of scum,” she continued, jabbing her brush into the ink stone adjacent to them, “led by an utter bastard of a clan leader, when he was alive. Bah, that Jin Guangshan. Disgusting. Hmph, his son seemed promising. Until he died.”

That gave Jingyi an odd pause. They all knew the fate of Jin Zixuan; less for mourning the poor man and more to give the Yiling Patriarch even worse of a name.

“Hmm, a beta chief cultivator, leading Lanling Jin. I wonder if the prejudice has lessened...oh, no matter. I will never go back to that snake pit. Now, Jingyi, back to our lesson.”

So, Jingyi thought that the fact he ate first set him further apart from his peers. Until training became increasingly grueling and he was hungrier and hungrier by the end of each session. Then he started to appreciate it.

Sizhui always kept up that practice outside of the Cloud Recesses. His scent was always happy when Jingyi displayed contentness.

(Which was another thing he asked his Laoshi about. She answered like he was stupid.

“He’s an alpha, of course he’s happy to provide for you. Hmm, do you even pay attention!? Instincts, the pheromones you release when you’re gratified. Jingyi, I taught you this!”)

When they finished their food, Sizhui stared at him for a couple seconds. Long enough that Jingyi squirmed under his intent gaze.

“Did something happen, A-Ming?”

The omega in him slammed on his ribcage at that, screaming not to lie to the alpha. That had been happening a lot more recently; it was annoying.

As they got older, Sizhui had stopped using his birth name in lieu of his courtesy name, most of the time. It went both ways; Jingyi used Yuan more in private.

The sudden use of his birth name, the tenderness of Sizhui’s voice, and the very slight worry in his scent almost caused Jingyi’s words to run like an uncontrolled river.

Lying is forbidden.

Jingyi swallowed the lump in his throat and replied, “ah, no. I’m fine, A-Yuan!”

Sizhui’s frown deepened minisculely, and Jingyi’s immediate thought was how Hanguang-Jun that expression was. He wanted to press his thumb to his friend’s forehead to smooth his brow.

So, he did. Sizhui’s eyes widened as he pressed on the skin. Jingyi grinned cheekily.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you don’t stop frowning, Sizhui! Then you’ll be like Lan Laoshi, forever grumpy,” he paused dramatically, dropping his voice into a severe whisper, “A-Yuan, I think his face is frozen.”

Sizhui laughed, bright and happy, and Jingyi greedily breathed in his flourishing scent.

Pulling his arm back and feeling lighter, he could almost ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The bundle, the herbs, and the foreboding question of what he was going to do with them. It's not like he could take them for a day in the Cloud Recesses; people would immediately notice his scent was gone. But...then when could he use them?

Even when they went to town, Sizhui never left his side for very long. And since they were around each other so often, they were attuned to each other’s scents.

Sizhui was lenient with many things, kind down to his core, but the boy wasn’t naive. He knew what omegan suppressants were, with the amount of books he had read about omegas. (For Jingyi’s benefit, he said. It was annoying, especially when he said something that was right). And he definitely knew what the effects were.

And if Sizhui knew he took suppressants, he’d tell. It wasn’t like he was a snitch, no, but herb suppressants were seen as unorthodox for preventing natural cycles like heats and ruts in most places.

There was a rule forbidding them in the Cloud Recesses. And Nan Laoshi had warned him off them in the past, with a long list of why not she spouted off for an hour or so. Jingyi hadn’t been paying much attention, so he didn’t remember all of them, but he remembered enough.

“Suppressants, at worst, can cause bodily failure. If the body goes too long without enduring it’s natural cycles, it can shut down. It causes pains, extreme fatigue, and heavy sickness leading up to that. I only knew of one omega who let it get that far.”

“And—and at the least…?”

“Hmph. Inflamed scent glands and mild sickness. It varies.”

After that, she had threatened that if he ever took suppressants, she’d kill him herself.

Which. Was very much incentive not to ever take them.

But...he looked upon others with envy. At the carefree betas that didn’t have to worry about wearing collars, or the copious rules that dictated his very existence, or the heats he’d have to go through when he reached maturity at 16. He envied the alphas, too. He envied Sizhui.

He wanted passerbys to look upon him with the proudness they did when Sizhui walked by; head held high and strong. Jingyi knew that no matter how high he had his head, or how tall he stood, they'd still look down on him.

Alphas don’t get stared at because of their sweet scent or because of the cultivator robes that many didn’t believe belonged on Jingyi’s body.

They never felt sticky and ashamed when people ogled them, like Jingyi did.

He desperately wanted to know what life was like without the collar. Without the telling scent. A day without judgement.

A day without conforming to being an omega.

The solution hit him like a sudden splash of ice water.

The Festival.

The trading festival, tomorrow. When Caiyi would be packed to the brinks with people. The crowds would be huge, the scents overwhelming, and it would be so, so easy to get lost in the crowd.

Or, more accurately, sneak away from someone and into a crowd.

But, Lan Laoshi probably wouldn’t let him go to the festival and oh- did he say that out loud?

“Ah, A-Ming, is that what you’re worried about?” Sizhui asked, sounding relieved, “you could’ve told me, you know.”

“Uh…”

Undeterred, Sizhui continued, “I know that Lan Laoshi is hard on you, Jingyi but...oh, how about I ask Hanguang-Jun to accompany both of us?”

Panic welled up in Jingyi’s chest, “Uh, well, you...don’t need a Chaperone, Sizhui”

“No,” Sizhui easily agreed, oblivious, “but you do. I think Lan Laoshi will be more likely to let you attend the festival if A-Die escorts us. Plus...I believe it to be beneficial for my father to join us.”

Sizhui's eyes gleamed with such honesty that Jingyi couldn’t say no.

“Alright, alright, Sizhui. Jeez, you speak like an old man,” he sighed, slumped defeatedly into the table, “we’ll get Hanguang-Jun to come with us.”

The arrow hit the bullseye with a dull ping.

Wood on wood, the stick wobbled for a solid three seconds before stilling, perfectly piercing the red painted center of the target.

With a deep, shaky exhale, Jingyi lowered his bow to his side. When the pressure on his shoulder was finally alleviated, a dull pain throbbed in its place. He winced, rolling his arm. Jingyi was told time and time again to not tighten up his muscles for a long period of time when shooting; and he’d mostly learned his lesson, but, this time he guessed he was so caught up with the pinpointed focus he had on his arrows and the targets.

When he held his bow, felt the worn down wood in the shape of his fingers he was on another plane of existence. From the moment he equipped the weapon to when he knocked his first arrow, it was like everything else faded out; and it was only Jingyi and the target.

He was usually in more control, but his mind was…occupied.

After returning to the Cloud Recesses, Sizhui had immediately dragged him to the Jingshi, despite his desperate begs of reluctance. Sizhui was perfectly capable of asking Hanguang-Jun to accompany them to the festival himself, he had no reason to make Jingyi go with him.

Jingyi came to the conclusion that Sizhui is a masochist who liked to see him suffer.

“A-Die,” Sizhui had said, bowing gracefully with one hand still clutching the sleeve of a squirming Jingyi. With one yank, he pulled him into a clumsy salute, “Jingyi and I wish to attend Caiyi’a upcoming festival. This son requests that you accompany us.”

Hanguang was kneeling outside, his fingers splayed over the guqin resting on the table adjacent from him. Jingyi had always marveled at the intricate prettiness of the Jingshi. Like the rest of the Cloud Recesses, the Jingshi seemed to float on a pile of mist. And, almost like the Hanshi but not quite, there were patches of Bamboo that surrounded the house.

It was homey; Jingyi’s fondest memories were before his and Sizhui’s presentation, when they were both pups filled to the brim with excitement when they got to sleep over.

He remembers staying up late under the covers with Sizhui, remembers sitting attentively and clapping as Hanguang-Jun sat with Sizhui at the Guqin and helped him play with his tiny fingers.

Jingyi couldn’t remember the last time he was at the Jingshi.

Hanguang-Jim’s eyes passed over them unreadably, and he was silent long enough for sweat to accumulate on his palms.

Then, he said, “Mn. I will speak to Uncle, A-Yuan.”

At that, Jingyi let out a long sigh of relief. Hanguang-Jim’s eyes flicked over to him, and he froze.

Jingyi thought Hanguang-Jun was terrifying. But he also thought he was the coolest.

“Hm, was your trip to Caiyi this morning enjoyable?”

Jingyi practically jumped when he realized Hanguang-Jun was addressing him. To which, his mind blanked and he ended up blurting out, “I had chicken.”

Sizhui coughed into his fist. Jingyi had a sneaking suspicion he was hiding a laugh.

“Hm,” Hanguang-Jun said. That ‘hm’ had a different tone than the previous one, “you like chicken?”

“…Yes.”

Hanguang-Jun nodded at him, and Jingyi thought about how much he wanted to disappear at that moment.

After that, Sizhui walked him back to his little dormitory and told him to get some rest.

(As soon as the door shut behind him, Jingyi dug through his Qiankun pouch and withdrew the bundle, throwing it on his bed.

He unraveled the ribbon first, letting it tumble gently out of the knot and onto the floor before he grabbed the fabric and stood up.

The clothing unraveled from its fold, revealing a comfy looking outer layer. It was a light blue, with long billowing sleeves and cloud patterns seen throughout the hem of the coat. It was quite obviously manufactured for Gusu’s disciples, though most of them wouldn’t buy something like this, since there was a rule against spending money on trivial things like accessories.

Jingyi could wear it though, since there was no rule protesting the use of a gift.

Then, with shaking hands, he withdrew the bag of herbs. With it, a paper fell out.

He grabbed it and read the hastily written characters.

Steep these herbs for three minutes

Effects will start 10 minutes after ingesting.

Jingyi placed the note with the bundle and threw it in one of his drawers. Slamming it shut, his heart pounded wildly in his chest.)

The sound of someone clearing their throat threw him out of his reverie.

Jingyi whipped around. His bow dropped to the ground with a low clang.

“Sect-Sect leader?! What are you doing here?!” Jingyi exclaimed, startled. He immediately groaned internally; of course he had to forget his manners in front of Sect Leader Lan. He could already feel the cramps in his hands from the rules he’ll have to copy.

As an afterthought, Jingyi threw himself into a bow, almost falling over in his haste.

After a show of hesitance, Jingyi straightened and found his Sect Leader staring, amused.

Despite the evident tiredness in his face, Lan Xichen looked as regal and elegant as usual.

With every gust of wind, his strong scent gets stronger. It was comforting and warm; pine with a hint of cinnamon. He also smelled strongly of Lavender; a peculiar scent not his own that followed him around. Jingyi had never found out who it was.

“Good evening, Lan Jingyi,” he greeted. The man seemed to glide over the ground as he made his way over— effortlessly graceful. Jingyi watched how he didn’t get any dirt on his robes with envy, “I was merely taking a stroll, and happened across you practicing with your bow.”

Jingyi’s shoulders slumped guiltily, “ah…”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize,” Sect Leader Lan said hurriedly, “I just wanted to stop and comment.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes flickered to a spot behind him. Jingyi turned to see what he was looking at.

The targets, all lined up in a row, all were with total bullseyes except for one.

Jingyi glared at the single imperfection. He expected Sect Leader Lan to comment on that, to point out the tiny way he failed despite this simply behind practice—

“You’ve come a long way.”

That. Was not what he was expecting. At all.

“Uh…what.”

Xichen smiled at him gently, his scent warm and content.

“I have met talented archers in my time as a disciple and Sect Leader. In fact, there was one in particular who…ah, nevermind,” he caught himself, cutting off the sentence vehemently, “your talent with the bow truly shines, Lan Jingyi. With enough practice, I believe you will be able to polish your ability into something greater.”

Jingyi’s cheeks pinkened and he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. Traitorously, he smiled at the praise.

“Ah, but ease up on your arm the next time.”

“You could see that from over there?” Jingyi marvelled. Xichen reached up and gently laid a hand on his head. For a second, Jingyi drew up onto the balls of his feet to chase the touch, but then thought better of it.

“I do have an eye for it,” Zewu-Jun returned. He took his hand away, robes swishing. A gentle breeze blew by them, “oh, my apologies for keeping you. You’re to be expected at the gate soon, to leave for the festival, no?”

Jingyi fiddled with his collar, swallowing, “oh—oh yeah. Guess I lost track of time, heh. Uhm...I’ll be going then,” bowing one last time, Jingyi looked up through his lashes at Zewu-Jun, “...Thank you, Sect Leader.”

Lan Xichen smiled, bright and comforting, and the weight on Jingyi’s chest increased tenfold.

Preparing the tea was easy.

Jingyi had brewed tea before. Everyone knew how to; he even knew how to serve it, no matter how much his hands shook as he poured the fresh tea into the cup.

He winced as a big portion spilled out onto the table, sloshing onto the wooden floor.

Preparing the tea was easy, but it smelled awful; bitter and tangy. It probably tasted worse.

Jingyi hadn’t known how many herbs to use, so he just put all of them in. The more in quantity, the more likely it’ll work, right?

Maybe, maybe not. Jingyi wasn’t a tea expert, but he hoped that was how it worked.

He gulped down the steaming drink in three quick swallows, face screwing up as he took the cup away from his lips. Jingyi grimaced a few times, tongue poking from his mouth as his hands fumbled around the table for water.

He was right, it turned out. The tea tasted like a mixture of grass and rotted apricot. And, somehow, dirt. It was like someone took a handful of the forest floor and brewed it into the most disgustingly slimy concoction they could create; and, well, it worked.

Maybe it was just slimy and chunky because he used too many herbs. But, to be fair, he didn’t know if it was supposed to be like that anyway. Perhaps the grotesque chunkiness was the natural texture.

The woman at her stall said that not only her, but the other omegas from her village drank this religiously. Daily. Did their taste buds simply go numb? Did the herb tea from hell simply render them unable to taste? Because Jingyi couldn’t imagine getting used to this. In fact, he never wanted to drink it ever again.

After chugging some water to drown out the unfortunate taste of the tea, Jingyi put everything back in its rightful place. The outer robe, the cups, and even the empty bag that contained the herbs; he hid that to dispose of it later. Call it paranoia, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

As he walked out the door of his dormitory and slid it shut, he thought, ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

“Sizhui!...Hanguang-Jun!” Jingyi stumbled to a stop, bowing before his senior unsteadily. He may or may not have speedwalked—read, stealthily ran— across the Cloud Recesses and to the front gate, “this disciple apologizes for taking so long!”

The sun had fallen lower in the sky. Orange light filtered in through the mist, and highlighted the world in a luminescent glow.

Lan Sizhui smiled gently at him when he rocketed up from his salute. His arms were neatly crossed against his front, looking regal and soft.

Hanguang-Jun stood adjacent, tall and domineering. The golden glow of the evening made his gaze piercing.

“Jingyi did not take long,” the man responded, tilting his head.

Jingyi rubbed the back of his neck, “ah, but still. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I had to return my bow to my quarters before leaving.”

That wasn’t a lie, per se. He did have to return his bow.

“Oh, don’t worry, Jingyi,” Sizhui placated. Jingyi fell into stride with him, glancing behind them to see Hanguang-Jun walking behind them, “we had just arrived.”

Their group passed the guards on duty with no problem. Hanguang-Jun greeted them with a nod, they bowed, and then they were on their way.

Caiyi town faded into view as they descended the mountain. The sunbeams had fallen upon the city in a gentle caress, bathing the houses in gold. The light glitterred off of the calm bay, where a few sporadically placed boats drifted across the still surface. Jingyi could see the lanterns from where they were walking.

Glancing at Sizhui, he saw that he, too, had an expression of awe on his face.

Jingyi’s chest fluttered, carefree as the wind, until his hand drifted up to his collar and the uneasiness returned.

Five minutes.

Caiyi was prettier up close.

By the time they arrived at the town’s entrance, the world had darkened into dusk. The city was done up with red streamers that crisscrossed above the streets, and bright lanterns hanging on the edge of every roof and from countless banners; lighting up the cobblestone streets and casting shadows across the vendors.

The crowd of people was so dense Jingyi couldn’t see over them; or through them.

There were so many scents, so many people, so many noises. Vendors calling out specific people, detailing their products, children squealing with glee, and lively music playing from some corner street.

“Woah..!” Jingyi exclaimed, tugging on Sizhui’s arm, “A-Yuan, there’s so many people! Look at all this!”

Wide-eyed, his friend looked down at him and worried his lip between his teeth, “ah, indeed. It’s a bit...overwhelming, if I’m being honest.”

“Mn,” Hanguang-Jun chimed in. Jingyi jumped; he had almost forgotten he was there, “A-Yuan, if you feel overwhelmed, we do not have to stay.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Jingyi agreed quickly, bobbing his head up and down.

Sizhui waved his hands, sheepishly looking at his father, “It’s fine! I’m okay, just surprised as all. I don’t think I’ve been to one of these festivals before. Caiyi isn’t usually crowded like this. A-Die, have you?”

Hanguang-Jun coolly stared off into the distance. He looked strangely melancholy, but Jingyi couldn’t tell if that was just his normal face. He could never get a good read on the man

“Mn,” he responded, “I have. Once.”

Sizhui seemed to brighten. His happy scent sweetened the air.

Then, he frowned, and turned to Jingyi, tilting his head. His soulful eyes searched his face, he sniffed the air inconspicuously. Sizhui’s frown deepened, and then he opened his mouth.

Jingyi stiffened, and before Sizhui could say anything, he latched onto his arm and started to pull in a random direction.

“Alright, alright! Come on, we’re here to have fun, right? I think there’s a show going on over here!”

Sizhui followed him easily, and Jingyi didn’t need to hear Hanguang-Jun’s footsteps to know he was coming, too.

In an odd stroke of luck, there was a show going on.

It wasn’t as much of a surprise as it was a relief. There were mini showcases everywhere; puppet shows, magicians, sword swallowers and the like, all stationed in their own little corners with their own boisterous crowds.

As he dragged Sizhui this way and that, trying to avoid the speckled blotches of people, he spotted a bright orange light. Not like a lantern, but like fire.

An eccentric Alpha stood in front of a makeshift stage constructed with silks and dyed wood. He was big and burly, wearing robes clearly designed to show off the lines of the muscles hidden beneath. They clung like wet fabric to each groove and ridge of his body. The man’s face was crafted with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper nose, and the pheromones he was producing, though neutral, were so strong Jingyi stumbled a bit as he proceeded forward.

He held a sword in his hand, and as they approached, the blade caught fire.

They got so close Jingyi could feel the phantom heat of flame against his cheek. Sizhui gasped as the yellow and orange whisps whipped long tendrils into the sky.

His eyes were shining curiously and wide as they stepped up.

And, soon enough the man drew a crowd. Because, well, the guy was holding a flaming sword, and that in itself was a crowd-drawing escapade; not even the least curious could escape the appeal of a cool, burning blade.

“Welcome, welcome!” A Beta came out from behind one of the curtains, dressed in dull colored robes. In contrast to the larger-than-life alpha, the beta was lithe and slight. He smiled pleasantly, and the crowd started murmuring. A couple of children squealed out cheerful, “hello!”’s.

“Ahooo—”, the beta whooped, arms spread wide, “A-Qiu, look, we’ve drawn a crowd! Not surprising, considering. After all, who doesn’t want to see a man swallow a flaming sword, ah?”

Exploding in raucous applause, the people cheered and yelled in excitement. Even Jingyi felt the contagious elation.

“Thaaat’s what I like to hear! Don’t forget to tip some money if you want to keep the show going, folks!” The Beta winked, and the Alpha looked so exasperated— plainly just, so done— that Jingyi had to muffle a snicker into his hand.

As the remnants of applause tapered off, the Alpha drew himself to full height— and damn if that wasn’t something— and the beta disappeared behind the hanging silks.

The Alpha moved with grace; slow like a viper waiting to strike, prowling like a tiger. Step after step, he twisted into a dance as his flaming sword burned a story into the air. People whispered and cheered as he threw the blade up and it spun into a wild orange circle, and came down in a vengeful arch. He expertly caught it by the hilt, the flames crackling so close to the ground, and the crowd exploded.

Jingyi was pressed in on all sides by people clamoring to get a closer look. Sizhui wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were focused on the spectacle in front of him. Utterly interested and impressed; enraptured and awed.

Sparing a glance behind him, he saw that Hanguang-Jun was impassively watching the show as well.

Clenching his fists, Jingyi though, zero minutes.

As a sea of people approached to bear witness to the man and his flaming sword, Jingyi let himself get lost within the tide.

He darted through the crowd like an arrow.

Weaving through people like a thread, running down one, two alleyways until he ducked behind a corner and slid behind a wall.

Noises echoed from beyond; muddled and foreign, but all Jingyi could focus on was his pounding heart.

The suppressants had to have taken effect by now. Which meant no one could smell him.

At that moment, no one could tell his status.

With shaky hands, he dug through his qiankun pouch and dug out the key to his collar. He held the small, silver piece between his fingers. He felt along the grooves, and then reached his hand behind his neck and rested the tip against the lock.

He took a breath, and the key sunk in with a click.

Quickly, he twisted it, and the collar came apart easily. The white leathered reminder fell onto the dirt soundlessly, and for a minute, Jingyi just stood there. He felt oddly exposed, feeling the cool air brush his naked neck without the barrier for once. He hadn’t been without it in public since he was a pup, and was so used to wearing it that it felt weird standing in the dirty alleyway, collarless and scentless. Jingyi rubbed his neck, brushing along the smooth skin and shivering.

His scent gland was painful to the touch.

Reaching down, Jingyi quickly snatched up his collar and shoved it deeply into his qiankun pouch. He looked up and down the alley— part of him was expecting Lan Qiren to appear in a sudden rage and drag him back to the Cloud Recesses by his ear, because the man seemed to have a nose for when he broke a rule—, and when he saw no one was there, no one witnessed him taking the collar off, Jingyi breathed.

He stood there and breathed. He breathed and he pretended.

Pretended that he was Lan Jingyi, a beta. Not the Lan Clan’s only omega cultivator in training, but just a regular beta. He pretended that there wasn’t anything notable about him, that his life was an open cage and he was a free bird.

Then he walked out of the alleyway.

He strode, by accident, directly into a stream of people. He was so preoccupied with his mind that he smacked right into someone's back.

“Oh—!” The woman exclaimed as they collided. She was tall and broad, and though the packages she had been carrying went sprawling out of her grasp and onto the ground, she didn’t move much. Jingyi, however, fell back on his hands.

The crowd parted around them, looking, glancing, but no one moved to help.

Mortified, Jingyi pushed himself up, “I. I am so sorry! Please forgive this one for his clumsiness.”

Matching his frantic apologeticness, the woman waved her hands out in front of her until they became a blur, smiling so awkwardly it was practically a pained grimace, “no, no, don’t apologize! Aiya, Aiya, I couldn’t see anything with those boxes stacked in front of my face. Gongzi, are you alright?”

To be fair, Jingyi thought, I wasn’t paying attention either. But, he decided not to voice that.

Then a child poked his head out from behind her, blinking owlishly. Most peculiarly, he had a tuft of red hair on his head.

Jingyi looked to the little legs wrapped around the woman’s waist, and the little hands gripping the fabric around her shoulders.

“I’m fine!” He answered too quickly, eyes darting away, “here, uh, let me help you with these.”

Most ungracefully, Jingyi began to collect the scattered boxes, ignoring her immediate protest.

Her incessant, no, no, please, Gongzi, you’ll get dirty, it’s fine!’s quieted down when she noticed the surprising number of packages.

“Wah...actually, Gongzi, would you mind...lending me a hand with these,” she asked sheepishly, joining him in corralling the boxes, “they’re custom orders from customers. Oh—my husband and I own a jewelry making business. Ay...he advised me to take two trips instead of one. It would do me good to listen to him once in a while, hmm, A-bao?”

The child poked his head up again and parroted, “listen to baba, listen, listen!”

Jingyi, balancing a number of boxes, stood there awkwardly and impatiently.

She sighed as she picked up the last one, slumping like an abandoned marinette, “apologizes, apologies, Gongzi,” she turned to presumably, her son, and pinched his little nose, “A-mei is always telling me I run my mouth like an old wrench.”

Jingyi’s eye twitched. His arms were starting to hurt. What the hell was in those boxes that made them so heavy!?

“This way, this way,” she beckoned, shooting him an apologetic look over his shoulder, “thank you again, Gongzi, for your troubles.”

“It’s—It’s no problem,” he strained, “no problem at all.”

Despite almost tripping over his robes a couple of times, and narrowly avoiding smashing into passerbys and repeating the same incident that got him into...his current predicament, he made it to their destination in one piece.

“Almost there, ah, here we are, gongzi! Right here.”

The woman’s son started wiggling, and she exclaimed before bending to put him down. He took off on his little legs and into a colorful street vendor, disappearing behind the curtains.

Jingyi opened his mouth to yell before the woman followed him in. He took that as his cue to enter, too; because apparently he was expected to, now.

Similar to the omega he met who gave him the suppressants, he was led into a back room. They almost looked the same; but instead of fabrics, there were beads and hairpins placed on displays and in crates. It was a bit smaller, too.

Jingyi jumped as boisterous laughter filtered through the room. A large, red-haired beta had picked up the boy and was swinging him around.

He felt as though he had walked into a circus.

“Uh…” He drawled, narrowing his eyes.

“You can put them here, gongzi,” the woman said, standing by a table. One by one, she placed the boxes down. Jingyi followed her lead.

“A-Liu!...Random boy!” The man greeted loudly. So loudly, Jingyi thought it shook the damn place. Sure, he was self aware enough to know that he was loud, but this was really on a whole nother level, “you’ve returned, my beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Jingyi flushed as they pressed their foreheads together, snapping his head away so fast his neck cracked. He snuck a glance back at them; one, then two, before he was back to staring at the couple.

He stared, and he wondered.

They were both betas, married and with a son, clearly happy and content, and he wondered.

If he could ever find someone like that.

He wasn’t naive, or ignorant. Maybe a little oblivious, but he knew the way the world worked. He’d likely be married by 18, to someone who either would like to possess him for his status, or for the strong Alpha children omega’s were known for producing.

It wasn’t a reality he liked to accept, or dwell upon. He didn’t want that, would never want that. But the chances of finding someone who would love him unconditionally and wholly like them, were slim to none. And he knew that.

(Sometimes, he liked to stay up late under candlelight reading romance novels. A guilty pleasure, maybe, but as the flames flickered over the pages and the main character was reunited with his love, he liked to pretend the fairy tale happily ever afters could maybe apply to him one day, too.)

Seeing couples like them made him envious, but happy.

They pulled away from each other and Jingyi looked away guitily, flushing down to his neck. His hand reached up to fiddle with his collar— but met nothing but air.

“My wife loves to get ahead of herself,” the man said, laughing. Jingyi quite liked his laugh; it was deep and jolly, “young boy, what can we do to repay you for your troubles?”

Jingyi swung back and forth on his heels, “er—uh, nothing. It’s fine. No...trouble at all.”

“Nonsense, nonsense!” The man waved his hand dismissively.

Before Jingyi could reply, there was something warm being pressed into his palm.

The woman pressed a circular wrap into his hand, closing his fingers around it with her own. The heat, while intense, wasn’t enough to make him reflexively drop it. And the smell...was heavenly. Or maybe Jingyi was just really hungry.

“It isn’t much, but it is left over from dinner,” she smiled, “if you insist on not taking payment, please take this as a token of personal gratitude, gongzi.”

Jeez, Jingyi thought, mentally scowling, all I did was help you carry some boxes.

It was the next thing she said that caught him off guard.

“Betas are always so reliable.”

His breath hitched, and he reflexively took a step back. There was a ball of lead in his throat; he couldn’t swallow, he could only think.

He wasn’t a beta, he wasn’t a beta, he wasn’t a beta.

But wasn’t that what this trip was for? To live as a non-omega for one night? To see what it was like, free of society’s shackles?

It felt wrong.

Jingyi lowered himself at the shoulders—the beta bow— stiffly, and in an emotionless voice that shocked even Jingyi himself, said, “thank you, Jiejie. I will take my leave now.”

Jingyi broke into a run as soon as he stepped outside.

As wind grappled at his face, as people stepped out of his way, he finally felt like he could breathe.

He ducked into another alleyway, panting. He slid down until he could wrap his arms around his knees and pull them into his chest.

(Belatedly, he realized he had dropped the meatbun.)

Why did getting called a beta bother him so much?

He was the one that took the suppressants, He was the one who took the collar off, he was the one that ran away from Sizhui and Hanguang-Jun.

Clenching his fists, Jingyi climbed back onto his feet.

“No,” he declared, “I’m going to go back, and enjoy the festival. No collar, no scent. Just..me. Yeah. Then when my scent starts to come back I’ll...go and find Sizhui and Hanguang-Jun again.”

Rejuvenated and determined, Jingyi held his head high and strode out of the alleyway.

Then there was the scream.

Air splitting and horrifying, the shrill cry echoed down the street and pierced the heavens. Heads turned toward the noise, people gasped, and as Jingyi stared through the gaps of people, he saw red.

Time seemed to slow down, and then there was only him and the woman.

Still collarless, still wearing dull green robes, still with braids in her hair, it was the girl who gave him the suppressants.

She was held against the wall, and as their eyes met between the slip of sight he had from where he was standing, his breath was stolen by the pure fear and terror in her eyes. In a split second, they welled with tears, and shined.

There was a man buried in her neck.

His fangs peaked from his lips, stained red and clamped.

Blood sprayed from the bite mark. It dripped in time with her tears, down, down, down onto her robes, painting them with an ever growing red.

Nan Lian once said that mating was a messy deal. That there was a pocket below the mating gland that burst when an alpha bit into it. He remembered dismissing it, because everything that had to do with mating was messy.

Jingyi had only known true fear twice.

When he presented, in Caiyi town. And when he was separated from his group on a nighthunt.

But here, now, seeing someone he knew being marked against her will, held against a wall by someone so much bigger, there was pure and utter terror.

Then, everything moved at once.

Jingyi was pushed from behind, outrage spiked in the air, a furious symphony of Alpha growls erupted, Cultivators in the crowd rushed forward.

The man was ripped off of her and thrown onto the ground. His face was stained red, eyes wild. He struggled and yelled as he was wrestled to the ground by a man with a sword. Beaten, Brutalized, he didn’t stop moving until the cultivator slammed the hilt of his sword against the guy’s head.

Children started wailing. The woman’s cries joined them, her scent clear in its tells.

There was a flash of white in his peripheral, and when he finally found the courage to tear his eyes away, he ran back into the streets of Caiyi town

As many people as there were, he felt exposed.

All he wanted to do was disappear within their ranks.

His feet carried him out of Caiyi town.

On the outskirts of the city, right where civilization ended and forest began, he collapsed.

It took a moment for his mind to catch up with him. For the numbness to dissipate. And when it finally did, everything came crashing down at once.

It was like an ice cold rain that shocked him right down to his core, kicking him abruptly and violently back into reality. Tears came unprompted. They obscured his vision as he choked on sobs, clutching his robes. He cried for the woman, he cried for her fate, and he cried for himself.

Folding into himself, Jingyi muffled his sobs into his sleeve.

For a while, there was nothing but him, and his ugly wailing.

All too suddenly, there was a hand on his back.

Jingyi flailed , throwing himself to the side. One hand reached for his sword the other came up in front of his face.

As his fist closed around the hilt, he froze. The scent of sandalwood filled his nose.

“Hah...Hanguang...Hanguang-Jun?” He managed.

Hesitantly he looked up. Lan Wangji had taken a kneel in front of him, holding his hands in front of his body. It wasn’t a natural pose, but his hands were in Jingyi’s sight, which he was thankful for.

“Jingyi,” Hanguang-Jun said, “you need to breathe.”

Breath hitching and lungs burning, Jingyi drew in an uneven breath. Then another. And another, until he could breathe normally again. Shakily, he let go of his sword, and lowered his head. His eyes hadn’t dried.

It was silent between them. Jingyi rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.

“You don’t...you don’t have to do that…” he murmured, referring to his scent. Hanguang-Jun rarely released his pheromones. He was one of the only people in the Lan Clan that had learned to mask his emotions via smell. All you could pick up from him was his status and natural scent of Sandalwood. Jingyi had always wondered how he did it.

The man blinked at him, the barest hint of a furrow between his brows, “are you alright?”

Jingyi’s bottom lip quivered, and, despite the obvious, he replied, “yeah. I am.”

He looked away from the alpha, rubbing his hands along the grass, expecting to be reprimanded. After all, lying was forbidden.

 Hanguang-Jun, he thought, really shouldn’t be sitting on the ground.

Lan Wangji got up, and for a minute, Jingyi wondered what was going to happen. He was most likely going to be dragged back to the Cloud Recesses, punished, grounded, and all the likes. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be let outside ever again.

But, instead of Hanguang-Jun dragging him back kicking and screaming for breaking almost every rule pertaining to him, he simply kneeled beside him, dirt and all.

Rightfully mortified, Jingyi exclaimed, “Hanguang-Jun!”

There was no response. So they just sat there. Until…

“I knew an omega once.”

...everything backpedaled into a halt.

“...what?”

Hanguang-Jun looked up into the sky. It’s inky blackness told no stories, and his eyes reflected everything that couldn’t be said.

“I knew an omega once,” he repeated passively, “you remind me of him.”

“Strong in spirit, kind in nature, he was never afraid to speak up. To break rules. He was never what we expected, and despite the measures taken to make sure he never could, he stood above us all.”

“He was free, and would never accept anything other than that. Nothing ever deterred him. He...once said, “Pay no mind to my status... because one day, it will be my sword at your throat.”

When hanguang-Jun finished, he said nothing more. Jingyi stared.

The sky came to life as fireworks lit up the sky. Their colors flashed off of their faces, highlighting the ground in reds, blues, oranges.

Jingyi’s hand drifted up to his neck, slowly touching the skin there.

He caressed where his collar would be, and wondered.

As black spots danced in his vision, and the stress of the night caught up with him, he graciously let himself be taken into the grasp of unconsciousness.

A few final tears glided down his cheeks, and right before the darkness of his mind wrapped him in a blanket of sleep, he thought,

Whoever Hanguang-Jun was talking about, I don’t think I could ever be like him.

This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

Chapter Text

“I have wronged you.”

Lan Jingyi choked on his grape, one hand pounding on his chest as he choked and sputtered. When his airways finally cleared, he stared at Lan Sizhui like he had suddenly grown five limbs and two more heads.

“Sizhui, what the hell!?”

His friend had taken a low bow; on his knees with his arms folded in front of him, head touching his fingers.

The reason Jingyi was so surprised wasn’t because Sizhui was suddenly acting batshit insane— well, maybe a little bit of that—, it was because those were the first words he said to him in three days. After their argument.

(“You—you don’t get it do you?”

“Get what? I don’t have to get anything!”

“When they said that an omega got forcefully marked, I thought it was you—!”

“Do you really think that less of me, Sizhui!? Do you really think I couldn’t defend myself?! I am a Cultivator, capable of everything you are!

“I was worried—!”

“Worried my ass! You think I’m weak, don’t you!? Like everyone else does!? Get out, get out Sizhui! Get out—!”)

Sizhui, still on the floor of the healing ward, drew in a deep, shaky breath, and repeated, “Lan Jingyi, I have severely wronged you, and this one is now begging for your forgiveness.”

Jingyi’s eyes narrowed, scowling. He popped another grape into his mouth.

“Why are you being so dramatic?” He sighed, “I already forgave you for yelling at me. I get it. I yelled at you too, anyway. Can you get up off the ground now?”

Apparently, after the entire festival fiasco, Jingyi had blacked out. And Hanguang-Jun had to carry him back. Which was absolutely mortifying, actually. So mortifying, that he hadn’t been able to look the man in the eye since.

“You took so many compressed suppressants in one drink it sent your hormones into an almost immediate imbalance,” one of the healers had explained when he woke up, “your golden core fought against the force, trying to return your systems to regular homeostasis. These two forces clashing against each other put your body into a lot of stress. Frankly, little one, I’m surprised you didn’t pass out earlier. It was inevitable; your body demanded rest in order to fix itself. And if you weren’t going to do it, it would do it for you. I suppose that’s a lesson within itself, no?”

Jingyi had woken up in the healers’ ward, with a horrible sense of shame and an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. It seemed he was constantly ending up in that damn place.

Besides the healers, the first person he had seen was Nan Lian. Vision still blurry, heart still pounding abnormally fast, fever still uncomfortably high, he watched as she pulled out a book and said, “I have never met a boy as stupid as you, Lan Jingyi. I won’t kill you, for now, but I will not let your idiocy deter my lessons. I also refuse to scold you, for I believe you have figured out your mistake already. Now, tell me what the four main…”

He passed out after that. Not because he felt like death, though he was quite close, but because he didn’t feel like listening to his Laoshi talk to him about nesting. Again.

Sizhui didn’t visit him the first day, but he did on the second. Jingyi, still bedridden and hurting, had thrown a pillow at his friend as he yelled at him to get the hell out. And then, with an angry scowl Jingyi didn’t know Sizhui’s face was capable of making, he stormed out in a swish of white robes, leaving a furious smell of soot in his wake.

Between being on his lonesome because the healers claimed they needed to “monitor” him and dozing out during Nan Lian’s lectures, he had plenty of time to think. He came to the reluctant conclusion that, maybe, he should apologize to Sizhui. And that he forgave him for yelling, because the Alpha most likely had so much pent up teen angst he wasn’t allowed to showcase.

Everyone had a breaking point. And really, Jingyi had to applaud Sizhui for not blowing up sooner.

He had already come to the conclusion that he was ready to forgive Sizhui, when the Alpha pulled...whatever he was currently doing.

It was nice he was apologizing! But he was being very extra, and very, very embarrassing.

“A-Die and I had a...a talk. He explained to me,” he took a quivering breath, “how unfair it is to you to be watched and. And chaperoned. He made me realize that though I did it in a different manner, my mindset was the same as those who express their disbelief at your accomplishments. I wanted to protect you, Jingyi— I want to protect you, but the rules set up for you and the way I was trying to do it weren't fair. It wasn’t humane, to treat you differently in a poor attempt at protection when it was really playing a part in your isolation because of your status. I don’t...I’m sorry. It’s alright if you...if you don’t accept my apology. I’ll understand.”

Frozen in place, Jingyi blinked. Once, twice, before the shock dissipated and all that was left was red hot fury simmering underneath his skin.

“Lan Sizhui…” he breathed out, fisting a hand into the pillow on his lap, “You’re an idiot!”

Rearing his arm back, he chucked the pillow toward Sizhui at full force. His friend, who had straightened up in guilty, accepting, albeit a bit confused silence, got hit directly in the face with it.

 The pillow made a dull smack as it landed.

“You’re telling me this is why you’ve been avoiding me, huh!? I don’t- ugh!” Jingyi, aggravated, put his head in his hands, groaning, “Sizhui- I get it. Thank you for apologizing, but we could’ve talked this out ages ago! Instead, you left me here to rot while you went and stewed in your own thoughts for days! And will you get off the ground!?”

Sizhui, mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ and eyes wide, rose slowly onto his knees, “I’m...sorry?”

Crossing his arms, Jingyi spat, “you should be!”

Silence covered them once more. Jingyi, glaring, and Sizhui, averting his eyes and twiddling his thumbs.

“You’re not perfect, Sizhui,” Jingyi finally sighed after a minute or two of stifling silence, “I know everyone expects you to be because you’re the perfect Lan role model or whatever, but I don’t. I’ve seen you do stupid things, I’ve seen you break at least twenty rules, for heaven’s sake! You always get hung up over the fact you’re supposed to be perfect and good all the time. It’s fine that you’re not. Everyone makes mistakes- you just...less so.”

Jingyi rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s not really...your fault, either. Everyone always says it's your job to babysit me, chaperone me, make sure I don’t fall and die. It...it sucks because I know with rules like these I can never be viewed as equal. But you never made me feel like that. Did I make you feel like that? Like just a chaperone? Because If I did, I need to get on my knees and apologize too.”

Sizhui shook his head, hands held out in front of him. He still had that sad, kicked puppy expression painted over his features, “no, no, of course not! I-”

“Good!” Jingyi interrupted, “Sizhui, we’re friends. You know me better than everyone else. I know you’ve never thought less of me. And you know what?”

“...what?”

“This is proof you’ve grown, Sizhui! Development!” He grinned cheekily, “like the characters in my novels.”

Sizhui smiled back nervously.

Jingyi pursed his lips. His friend really was so stubborn.

It wasn’t like Jingyi didn’t appreciate his apology; he was glad it happened. But...he never really blamed Sizhui. The alpha never made him feel anything less than human. Sure, it sucked being watched every time he went out of the Cloud Recesses, but Sizhui was his friend. Someone who had been there since the very beginning. So he couldn’t blame him, would never blame him.

You simply couldn’t fault the byproducts of a faulty system. And Sizhui admitting it was wrong showed he understood, at least.

Jingyi shoved the blankets away from his body and hopped off the bed, ignoring Sizhui’s immediate protests.

“A-Ming, the healers said that you’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!”

“Oh, shut up, Sizhui,” Jingyi rolled his eyes. Legs wobbly, Sizhui met him halfway, gripping his forearms when Jingyi listed forward.

Jingyi gripped back.

“Being chaperoned sucks, “, he said, making the decision to look past Sizhui’s wince and how his eyes got 50% sadder, “but it’s different when you’re enjoying an outing with a friend. So when I’m finally cleared to leave- and, haha, when I’m not copying any more rules...let’s go on a trip to Caiyi town! Not as Chaperone and omega being chaperoned, though.”

“So...as…”

“...As friends, dummy.”

After that, Jingyi poked Sizhui in the middle of his brows, smoothing away the frown line. He smiled, and pulled the Alpha in for a hug.

He was so much taller than him now, nowhere close to the tiny boy he had met so long ago. Jingyi could fit neatly against his collar bone, and it was nice. Their scents mingled sweetly.

Sizhui’s hands hesitated before bringing his arms up and wrapping them loosely around Jingyi’s shoulders. Not too tight, not too loose; like he was afraid of hurting him. Jingyi kind of wanted Sizhui to hold him so tight against his chest he couldn’t breathe, so he could curl up and make a home along the contours of his torso.

“You’ve been reading too many martial arts novels, Jingyi.”

“Okay, wow. I pour my heart out to you, make a cool, wise speech and this is the thanks I get? For shame, A-Yuan. For Shame.”

Jingyi felt Sizhui’s chest rumble in a laugh against him, and then the door burst open.

“Lan Jingyi! What are you doing out of bed, young man!?”

“...Aw. Oops.”

(The trip to Caiyi town was...nice. When they got there, under the guise that Sizhui, like always, was going to remain by Jingyi’s side for the duration of their visit, Sizhui had made the very poor excuse that he was going to go look somewhere over “there”. There were no stalls in the direction he pointed, but Jingyi didn’t call him out on it. He looked nervous enough.

Then, Jingyi was alone.

At first, there was a creeping feeling on the back of his neck. A tightness in his throat as the memories of the festival came flooding in.

But then, he breathed, like Hanguang-Jun had told him after their conversation about the festival. If unwelcomed memories surfaced, you must calm your mind and breathe. You are not there anymore, he had said.

It worked.

People still stared at him. Eyes Lingered on his collar. But he was free to walk around to his heart's content. It was...exhilarating and new.

He found boredom very quickly, however, without Sizhui’s pleasant companionship. He had no one to talk to, so he met Sizhui at a restaurant no more than twenty minutes later.

He snuck Chili’s in his food. Sizhui most likely knew, because Jingyi was never able to sneak anything by him, but whether it was because it was just who he was or he still felt bad, the alpha humored him and ate it anyway.

The shade of red he turned was very amusing.)

“I’m sorry, what? Forgive me for my impertinence, Sect Leader, but did you just say a nighthunt? A...a solo night hunt?”

What Jingyi did not say was, you’re letting me out so soon? After everything that just happened? And for a solo nighthunt?

Well, so soon, being almost a year. But it seemed that it was still all the elders talked about– the rebellsome omega that downed too many suppressants and snuck away from his chaperone.

Old people can really hold grudges, it turned out.

And he had kind of been grounded. For a while. Since then. The only nighthunts he was allowed to go on were with his class, and he was only cleared for those a few months ago.

Those first few months were hell, only being allowed to go to Nan Lian’s classes and back. Along with the endless copies of rules he had to prescribe, Jingyi was also stuck with a lot of chores. Hours of cramping hands barely soothed by warm baths, days of good weather gone by stuck scrubbing dirt out of robes. It really, really sucked, but Sizhui had made it more bearable. Hanguang-Jun too.

But man, he really hated doing laundry.

Zewu-Jun, regal in his billowing robes, graceful in his posture, sipped his tea. He set the glass back on its plate with a tiny clink. His expression was easy, open, and kind–it had melted away all of Jingyi’s doubts when the sect leader had requested his presence at one of the open pavilions.

When the messenger had first relayed the message to him, Jingyi’s first emotion was fear, which turned to confused apprehension, because it was Zewu-Jun for crying out loud. But it made his heart rise into his throat nonetheless.

When he arrived, Zewu-Jun gave him an easy smile, and gestured for him to sit. Along with the calm, passive scent that lingered around them– which contained a lot more undertones of lavender than last time they had been in the same precinity–, the tension in Jingyi’s body had dropped immediately.

It was really just a check in– he was asked how he was feeling, how his classes have been, has he been feeling any lasting effects from the suppressants. Stuff the healers had asked him before. Repetitive pleasantries.

Their conversation was a bit stilted until Zewu-Jun brought up how he was still on the Junior Roster, and had been assigned to a nighthunt.

Jingyi had brightened up immediately, leaning forward until remembering that it was very much not proper and drawing back.

“Are you– I mean,” he coughed, “that’s great! Thank you, Zewu-Jun!”

Zewu-Jun’s smile soured along the edges, “ah, well…it’s not a fully independent one, my apologies, Jingyi.”

Jingyi’s shoulders slumped despite himself. He traced the rim of his teacup, “oh. I’m going to have to have a chaperone, right?”

“Yes…you will,” Zewu-Jun responded. His scent sweetened the air, and Jingyi knew he was releasing more of his scent to appease him. He appreciated the gesture, “which is why I have assigned Lan Sizhui to accompany you.”

Jingyi’s head shot up and he grinned, “really, Zewu-Jun? Thank you so much!”

He had thought he would get assigned some other Alpha to chaperone him. He and Sizhui were able to visit Caiyi town a few weeks ago, much to the displeasure of the elders, apparently. There was talk of Sizhui not being capable of, “watching that omega”, as they put it. Which was stupid, because Sizhui was good at everything, and perfecty capable of keeping him out of trouble.

Well, most of the time. It wasn’t his fault Jingyi was an idiot.

The only reason they got to travel to Caiyi town was thanks to Hanguang-Jun. Which, bless him, really.

Lan Xichen hid a smile behind his fist, nodding, “the night hunt isn’t supposed to be anything specifically taxing. It was proposed as an intermediate level, one that I have no doubt you and Lan Sizhui will be able to complete flawlessly,” Zewu-Jun slid a paper packet over to him, and Jingyi picked it up gingerly between his hands. On the front, ‘Mo Manor’ was prescribed in large, dark characters, “the location is within the Mo Sect. Madam Mo herself has requested aid within her village. You will find out more when you arrive, as personal investigation is part of the assignment.”

Starry eyed, Jingyi opened the small pamphlet. Mo Village was a little ways away from Gusu, at least a half a day’s flight on sword. Still, Jingyi was practically vibrating in his seat as he looked at the inked map. He had never been that far away from Gusu! It would be his first trip outside the sect! And he was allowed to go!

Oh, how he wondered what it would look like. Would it smell different than Caiyi town? What kind of food would they sell? Did that area have any delicacies?

It was a nighthunt, which meant they were most likely going to be saving and protecting people–which was a lot of responsibility and also very scary, but was an important part of cultivation training–, but that didn’t mean that after they couldn’t have some fun, right?

“Oh, but, Zewu-Jun…” Jingyi began, slowly wilting, “I…”

Zewu-Jun sighed. They were silent for a moment as the man finished his tea. As Xichen poured himself some more, he spoke, “I will not lie to you, Jingyi. The elders were not particularly fond of this decision given…recent events. However, I– I cannot say I understand what you have been going through, but I know it has been suffocating. I am not able to change the rules of the Cloud Recesses, but not all of them revolve around keeping you trapped here. You are training to be a cultivator, like every other student. And you will receive the same opportunities as everyone else.”

Jingyi stared wide-eyed at Zewu-Jun when he finished. Abruptly, his eyes filled with tears, and the alpha looked slightly panicked. If Jingyi wasn’t feeling so emotional at the moment, he would have been proud he made the man look so scandalized.

He wiped the tears away with his sleeves, shakily smiling at Zewu-Jun, “sorry, sorry, Sect Leader! I just– I promise that I’ll make you and this sect proud. I will!”

Jingyi got up, almost falling over himself and onto his face, dropping himself into a deep bow, “this one thanks you for this opportunity!”

A little confused, Zewu-Jun gestured for him to raise himself. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he shook his head with a small grin.

“Lan Jingyi, you already do.”

“A-Yuan, did you hear, did you hear?!”

Jingyi had speed walked–he did not run, because running was forbidden in the cloud recesses–from the pavilion he met Zewu-Jun in and toward the Library Pavillion, where he knew Sizhui would be buried in a cultivation book.

(He smelled him before he saw him. Sizhui had matured during Jingyi’s Cloud Recesses sentence–back when he had just finished recovering. And…after they had finally made up. It was a lonely week while Sizhui was in rut-induced seclusion. Jingyi spent time worrying–would Sizhui emerge a changed man, like he magically turned into an asshole Alpha? It was stupid for worrying, because his friend returned the same. Well, more or less the same–his scent was stronger. If Jingyi closed his eyes and breathed, he could picture himself among the most beautiful of mountains. His fragrance was so clear and calming, but at the same time, it made a certain part of Jingyi want to bare his neck.

It hadn’t done that before.)

His friend loved to read, and Jingyi enjoyed much of the cultivation knowledge he rattled off about.

Just as he predicted, Sizhui was perched in his favorite seat–one by an open window, so he could get equal parts natural light and breeze, he had told Jingyi once. Apparently, it made for a perfect atmosphere for reading.

He had a book opened on his lap. Jingyi did not get a chance to read the characters before Sizhui was slamming the book shut and setting it by his thigh, obscuring it from view.

Jingyi came to a slow stop, debating on asking what it was before mentally shrugging. Sizhui was weird, sometimes.

His friend was looking at him with wide eyes, his face a bit red. Had the sunlight been getting to him? Jingyi didn’t think it was very warm, but Sizhui had always burnt easily.

Which was unfair, because the sun always seemed to compliment Sizhui the best. It followed the Alpha wherever he went, highlighting his eyes, jawline, the crevices of his exposed throat–

“You seem quite excited, Jingyi,” Sizhui greeted, rising slowly. He furtively nudged the book under the table.

“I am! I have a good reason, too! Didn’t Zewu-Jun tell you? We’re going on a nighthunt! To Mo Village!” Jingyi threw his arms up, “I’m being allowed outside! This is my first trip outside of Gusu! I’m not grounded anymore!”

Sizhui matched his enthusiasm, eyes crinkling. Sizhui’s genuine smile always lit up his whole face.

“I did! I am looking forward to it as well. I have never been to Mo Village before.”

Jingyi grabbed Sizhui’s wrist, guiding it up to his neck, tilting his head into his palm, hoping he’d get the hint. After a moment of hesitant surprise, Sizhui dragged his wrist around his collar and on the sliver of his exposed scent gland. Jingyi purred, and Sizhui’s chest rumbled deeply in tandem with his. Jingyi had always loved the way Sizhui sounded when the Alpha purred–Alpha’s were always deeper and grumbly, and Omega’s lighter and crooning. He always felt that they, together, sounded perfect.

Their scents warmed the air.

Soft and hazy, Jingyi didn’t react when Sizhui pressed his nose into his neck. His friend seemed to catch himself at the last minute, pulling away slightly, before leaning back in and nosing under his jaw. Jingyi giggled breathlessly.

“Sorry”, Jingyi felt more than heard Sizhui speak, his warm breath fanning out against his skin, “you…smell really happy. It feels nice. Sweet.”

Vaguely, one of Nan Lian’s lessons about pheromones and their effects came to mind.

His hand gently slid up his arm, rubbing against his robes before climbing higher, toward the exposed skin of his upper-half, curling around the base of his neck, a finger curling into the stray hairs jutting out from his ponytail. It squeezed–so very lightly, barely tightening his grip, but it sent pleasant goosebumps throughout his body. A pleasant static rippled through his brain.

In a trance-like haze, Jingyi breathed, “Do you think the chicken there tastes different, A-Yuan? Do you think it’s better or worse?”

Sizhui laughed against his neck. It tickled.

He tried not to whimper when Sizhui pulled away, face red, eyes distant, hand falling away. His eyes darted up and down, his tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip.

“We’re going on a nighthunt, your first one outside of Gusu, and you’re thinking about how the chicken tastes?”

Sizhui’s face cleared somewhat, and then, his eyes suddenly widened. Stumbling back a step, Jingyi watched, perplexed, and reached for him. Sizhui caught his wrist, gently, and Jingyi’s breath caught in his throat. They stood there, timeless, as Sizhui’s eyes burned into his.

Now, Jingyi was being affected by the sun–he felt a lot hotter than he did walking in. Was the window even open?

Sizhui released him, looking at Jingyi with a sudden dawn of realization. He hesitated before speaking.

“A-Ming, you’ve been smelling really sweet recently.”

“Mhmm…” Jingyi wanted him to come closer.

“You’ll be turning sixteen in a few weeks.”

“Yeeeup…” Why did he walk away? Sizhui was just holding him? A mean, mean, Alpha…

“You’re close to your first heat.”

Icy water suddenly flooded his veins. He snapped away from Sizhui, head clearing with a suddenness that had him dizzy. A-Yuan grappled for him as he stumbled backwards, panicked.

“Wait– do you think that’s why they're letting me do this? Letting me go out before I mature, and then they won't let me do it again?”

“What–no!” Sizhui reassured, waving his hands, “of course not, Jingyi–you aren’t going to become a prisoner once you mature, they cannot keep you here like that. You know this.”

Jingyi sighed, twiddling with his sleeves, “do you…is my scent really that noticeable, Sizhui?”

At that, Sizhui rubbed the back of his neck, “ah…to others, most likely not. I just notice it because…I am very used to you, so I know when there’s a change to your scent. To everyone else, they’ll just think you have a natural scent that’s sweet like that. You…as you get closer to your heat, it’ll get sweeter, and then people will know you’re about to…mature. It’s a very small change right now, though! Don’t worry!”

Jingyi didn’t question how or why Sizhui knew that. He just buried his face in his hands, mortified.

“Ughhhh,” He groaned, “let’s not mention anything about the upcoming hell I’m going to go through. Please. I might just die. It’s worse enough when Lian-Laoshi talks about it.”

Silence befell them. Jingyi knew his face was burnt red. As nice as that felt, it was so embarrassing, and he hated his omega for yelling at him to get Sizhui to do that again, to hold him close and press his face into his neck.

“I don’t think the chicken will be better.”

“Huh?”

“The answer to your question,” Sizhui explained, “I don’t think the chicken will be better than Caiyi town’s.”

“Are we…betting right now, Lan Sizhui?” Jingyi ventured, raising his face slowly, “are we betting on what chicken is better? Don’t give me that look, I know gambling is forbidden– we are betting! A bet without cash! I bet the chicken at Mo Village will be better!”

Sizhui looked crestfallen, “Jingyi…you don’t know anything about Mo Village.”

“I know the chicken will taste better,” he shot back, hands on his hips.

Sizhui just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oooookaaayyyy…” He said slowly, “I guess…we have a bet, then? If this counts as one…”

“It does,” Jingyi huffed, “Oh! Do you know when we’re leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Sizhui tilted his head, “I thought you knew?”

Jingyi slapped a hand to his forehead, “tomorrow!? Morning!? Sizhui, I have to pack!  I’ll see you at dinner!”

“Running is forbidden in the–! Oh, he’s already gone.”

They departed early that morning, when the sun had just peeked over the horizon, sending deep golden rays over the sharp slopes of Gusu. Before the mist had more or less cleared, Jingyi and Sizhui were already on their way.

There was something magical about flying by sword in the early mornings. Following the sun to your destination. Watching as the sky melded into vibrant colors you could only see in the most expensive dyes, only for it to melt into a soft blue.

It was always cool in the mornings in the Cloud Recesses, and the breeze was refreshing.

It also woke him up.

Mo Manor was situated in a valley, built where the mountains' flattest bases came together in a large assortment of leveled land. Surrounded by deep forests that continued into and from the mountains, and rivers that flowed from the tall summits that create ample, fertile soil, it was a popular market for merchants, and cultivators. Apparently, it was becoming a popular night hunting spot for some of the minor and major sects as of late.

And, of course, rogue cultivators.

As they passed overhead, flying in the direction of the Village’s center, Jingyi marveled at the market below. It wasn’t as big as Caiyi town, but it was just as bustling. He could hear the chatter from his sword.

It looked a bit crazier, too. Jingyi swore he saw a deranged looking man speeding through one of the crowded streets on a manic donkey, but when he directed his sword beside Sizhui to tell him, the Alpha just gave him a concerned look.

“Sizhui, Sizhui, look! Over there,” he shouted, pointing down. They weren’t flying that fast, but it was still hard to hear over the wind, “chickens! Look at them! They look so fat!”

Indeed, the chickens inside of the bamboo enclosure looked to be so very plump, that they probably had to waddle. Jingyi was absolutely delighted at that notion.

Waddling chickens!

Sizhui gave him a look out of the corner of his eye, mouth twisted up, but his eyes said, Jingyi, please be serious.

Throughout their flight, he was positively enamored with everything. The sights, the people, don’t even get him started on the smells– it smelled so different at Mo Village than it did in Gusu! There was a lot more earth in the village’s scent than Gusu’s clean, barely detectable misty fragrance. It was incredible! Jingyi didn’t know that traveling could be that fun!

Of course, he knew he was there for a nighthunt, but it was likely just a simple case of a fierce corpse infection from a recent death, or something. Those happen all the time, especially in small villages like Mo Village–when there aren’t many cultivators around, resentful energy builds up within communities because it hadn’t been exterminated. Jingyi had read cases akin to those frequently during Hanguang-Jun’s classes.

So, once they finished, they could explore! Have fun! Maybe get free stuff from the villagers as thanks–

(Which was against the rules.)

They landed in the middle of the largest assortment of houses in the village, and were greeted by a small delegation of people wearing dull robes. Likely servants.

Sizhui stepped off his sword gracefully, sheathing it with precision and flourish. Jingyi put all his concentration into not falling on his face.

An older beta woman stepped forward; there were deep lines that carved gashes into her face, especially around her eyes. Her smile was friendly, and her sharp, rosemary scent tickled his nose.

“Greetings, young masters,” she said, bowing. When she raised herself up, Jingyi found himself pinned under her stare for a few seconds before she turned to address Sizhui. It sent unpleasant pricks up and down his back.

“On behalf of Mo Village, we thank the Lans for the assistance on such short notice, and in such quickness, as well. We welcome you here. Follow me, young masters, Madam Mo awaits in the hall.”

Sizhui smiled. It wasn’t his genuine one, it was his polite smile. The one he used when dealing with people.

“This one thanks you, miss,” he saluted kindly.

The beta woman waved away his thanks. Jingyi watched as she shooed away the remaining servants, who bowed before rushing off in different directions.

Taking a deep breath, Jingyi stood taller and steeled his nerves as they followed the woman in.

The interior of the hall was quite beautifully furnished; with deep oak floors and expensive-looking tapestries lining the walls. Shelves furnished with piles upon piles of scrolls were set against the back walls, and at the front of the room were two artful tables sat on a wooden square raised higher than the rest of the floor—likely for the heads of the house, for behind them, hung the Mo family symbol.

He and Sizhui kneeled behind two movable tables in the middle of the room, obviously set up for them.

Jingyi hid his shaking fists in the sleeves of his robes.

Just then, what he presumed to be Madam Mo strode out, her robes swishing behind her, a tight smile on her painted face. She was donned in what were obviously expensive fabrics, as they looked like they moved with their own light, with embroidered patterns along the hems that resembled golden vines. He immediately recognized her as an Alpha; she had a dull, watery scent with undertones of…some sort of metal.

Before she could greet them, a tiny servant scurried to her and leaned up to whisper in her ear.

Madam Mo hid her mouth being the long sleeve of her outer robe, but as the girl talked, her eyes widened and her face paled.

“You did not tell the omega to wait in the guest wing? You invited him in?” She spat, voice rising above a whisper.

Jingyi’s face reddened.

He felt Sizhui’s demeanor darkening from across the room.

Madam Mo looked deeply sheepish, and she turned to them, presumably to apologize, but Sizhui beat her to it.

“If you are talking about Lan Jingyi, here,”, he gestured to Jingyi with a snap of his sleeve, “With all due respect, Madam Mo, he, along with I, is one of the two cultivators sent by the Gusu Lan sect.”

Madam Mo’s eyes widened, thoroughly scandalized– Jingyi, embarrassment and fury still burning him from the inside out, bit his lip to keep from laughing– and bowed to them.

“My deepest apologies, young masters!” She simpered, harshly waving the servant away, who yelped when Madam Mo’s hand came in contact with her arm, “We just…we do not see many…omegas. Or omega cultivators, for that matter either!”

As she opened a fan and waved it in front of her face, her eyes darted over to Jingyi, surveying him up and down– lingering on his waist and the sword sheathed at his hip.

Before he could angrily call her out on it–and maybe thankfully, so Jingyi didn’t end up instigating a diplomatic incident–, her eyes crinkled in an imitation of a smile.

Jingyi, for the life of him, could not tell if she meant it or not.

Madam Mo glided across the floor and slid effortlessly into a sitting position behind a table across from them.

“Yes, yes, however, it is certainly…incredible,” the word seemed like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Her facial expression seemed like she bit into something extremely unpleasant, “that Gusu Lan has an…omegan cultivator. After all, they're known for producing such talented cultivators! Absolutely wonderful, handsome Alphas! The cream of the crop, one would say.”

Her gaze fell onto Sizhui when she said handsome alphas.

Jingyi did not like that woman. He could see how his friend’s hands went painfully taught in his lap.

“Oh! You must be tired from your trip. I apologize for the incompetency of the servants here,” she paused, eyes going hard as she gazed to the side, “Serve these young masters tea.”

One of the servants that had been standing ramrod straight, head bowed, by the door, rushed forward with a pot of tea clutched in her arms. She poured them both a cup, hands moving in a blur, and was back by the wall before Jingyi could blink.

His eye twitched.

Jingyi knew his face was probably, embarrassingly, flushed red. From anger, unpleasantness, and embarrassment.

So the assignment was already going great.

To distract himself, Jingyi grabbed the cup and decided to down all of his tea in one go. In retrospect, it ws good he waited a minute before doing so. Because if he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t have any skin left in his throat.

As he drank the, frankly, watery excuse for tea, Sizhui asked Madam Mo about the village’s circumstances at the moment.

“Positively dreadful! Awful! I haven’t slept well in a week, young masters. It is truly horrendous!”

Sizhui took a sip of his own tea. He put it down with a smack of his lips and a furrow between his brow.

“Does that mean that there has been a fierce corpse infestation, Madam Mo?” Jingyi asked. She glanced at him, before turning back to Sizhui.

Jingyi’s hand clenched around the teacup. From the nervous glances the servants gave him, he thought that it might break. He really didn’t care. Maybe the woman deserved a broken teacup.

“Yes, yes. Recently fierce corpses have been ravaging the farms on the outskirts of the village. We don’t know where they’re coming from! They’ve even slaughtered some of the villagers, and have invaded parts of the village! My people aren’t equipped to deal with them,” she responded.

Sizhui put a finger on his chin.

“Not to worry, Madam Mo,” Jingyi interjected, trying to make his voice as pleasant as possible, “It doesn’t sound like those deaths you mentioned could summon enough resentful energy to raise corpses, unless there has been any major deaths that would have triggered mass amounts of resentful energy we don’t know about, fierce corpses are an unfortunate and occasional occurrence within villages. It is most likely a build up of resentful energy that we’ll be able to purge after exterminating them.”

“Indeed,” Sizhui smiled at him briefly, before addressing Madam Mo with a colder expression.

“No, no, none of that! Of course, there has been no…suspicious or notable deaths here like that at all!”

Jingyi nodded, puffing his cheeks out as he thought.

“Not only that,” she continued, eyes wide and imploring, “but recently, rogue cultivators have been around town, talking about night hunting and the like…young master, do you think that could be a…a cause?”

“Oh, no, Madam Mo,” Sizhui responded, “Cultivators enjoy traveling, purging fierce corpses, and solving cases that involve resentful energy and cursed objects. It is also a part of training and cultivation assessments. Since fierce corpses mostly appear at night, it is called Night Hunting.”

Madam Mo’s face brightened with understanding, “oh, I see, I see! That eases my worries. Say, young masters, my son has always dreamed of hunting demons, he is quite the refined and intelligent young man, much like…yourselves! Pity there aren’t…” she peered at them pointedly, “any opportunities for him to learn.”

Sizhui’s expression got tight, and Jingyi pressed his lips together. A blatant refusal was on the tip of his tongue, but luckily, he wasn’t granted the chance to offend the Madam, because in a sudden burst of the doors, an Alpha exploded in through the entrance.

He was large and bulbous, swaggering into the room belly first, with an awful, musky scent that swept through the room and made Jingyi’s face scrunch. Beneath the grotesque fragrance was something similar to Madam Mo’s lukewarm, rainy-metallic smell, and Jingyi was not particularly surprised that the man was her son.

It was so sour and noxious, it made Jingyi’s nose scrunch. He had enough kindness left in his heart to mind his manners and not put his sleeve over his face.

“Mother, mother,” the Alpha wailed as he stumbled his way to the Madam, arms swinging madly. His face suggested he was much too old to be throwing a tantrum like that, “that Mo Xuanyu is bullying me again!”

Madam Mo jumped to her feet in a panic, wrapping her hands around her son’s shoulders. Her fan clattered to the ground with a clack.

“A-Yuan! What’s wrong? He didn’t hit you, did he? Did he hit you!? Are you hurt!? That crazy, worthless ome–” She glanced at them, as if just realizing they were there, “ahem, my apologies. Ziyuan! Calm yourself, there are cultivators present.”

The childish Alpha, Ziyuan, looked indignant.

Sizhui made to speak again, most likely to excuse them from…whatever that was, when a loud, boisterous ruckus that began with the furious braying of a donkey, and continued with high, mad laughter shattered the air from the outside.

Jingyi craned his neck to stare out the door.

“Grab him will you!?”

“Don’t let him in!”

“You can’t be here!”

“Aww man,” the laughing voice chimed, “but I wanna play! Whoops– ahah! You can’t catch me!”

Servants rushed to and fro, trying to catch a red and black…blur that was skipping across the courtyard. The entity’s hands were thrown up in clear delight, yelling things like, “I’m not leaving” and, “haha! Too slow!”

Jingyi found out that the source of the obnoxious braying was from a very angry donkey, currently being unsuccessfully wrangled by a distressed servant in lilac robes.

The man ran right for them, robes swishing at his sides like an absolute madman, still laughing boisterously.

As he craned his neck behind him, his foot caught on the stone step before the room and he went sprawling.

Without second thought, Jingyi lurched forward and caught his arm before he could slam face first onto the floor in what would have been a pretty ugly fall.

Up close, the man had gorish make-up painted all over his face– some of the white spotting his hair, plastering dark strands of it to his cheeks and to the underside of his jaw. It looked like a poor interpretation of a hanged ghoul. The red, painted crudely in large circles around his eyes, made them stand out, and the mangled hair he had half tied up into a knot that was barely holding out, really pulled that look together.

Underneath the ugly defacement, he had a very fine, pretty face, with high cheekbones and wide, silver eyes that sparkled with infinite depths of color.

He had a very confusing scent. It was an odd mixture of sugary lotus and bitter orange–not dual scents like when someone is scented, you could easily tell the difference between a natural scent and someone else’s.

This man smelled like the two were battling each other, with neither one of the other being dominant or natural. They mingled in a way fragrances shouldn’t– and it made it impossible for Jingyi to figure out his secondary gender, at first.

“Goddamn, these legs are short,” he muttered, confusing Jingyi further.

The man stared at Jingyi with an expression he couldn’t read, before suddenly, a sinister grin crawled onto his face.

Jingyi did not have time to brace himself before he was pounced on.

He landed on his back, squeaking in surprise on impact. The strange smelling man leaned over him, hands barricading his shoulders, face stopping just a hair's breadth away from his. Jingyi’s face burned at the attention, and he found himself frozen.

“Wow! I never thought I’d see a little baby omega lan, I thought they didn’t have those! Hey,” he pouted, leaning closer. Jingyi leaned back,“was it you who stole my stuff?”

Finding his voice again, Jingyi exclaimed, “what are you talking about!? Get off of me, now!! I don’t know you!!”

Giggling, he leaned back on his knees.

“Will somebody get this lunatic out of here!? What are you doing standing around? Useless, useless I tell you!” Madam Mo exclaimed.

The madman disappeared into the air and attached himself to a nearby piller as servants swarmed around. It was pure chaos, one tripped over the other, another slammed into that one, and the boy who made it to the screeching banshee currently hugging the wooden beam grabbed onto the back of his robe and tried, ineffectively, to pull him off. All the while he wailed, “no, no, no! I refuse, I refuse! I will not leave!”

“You goddamn lunatic, Mo Xuanyu!” The servant yelled.

So that was Mo Xuanyu, Jingyi thought, in a trance-like daze, what kind of man do you have to be to get bullied by this lunatic?

Mo Xuanyu “hmphed”, tilting his chin up, “hmm, actually! I’m willing to leave”, he threw a sly side-eye toward Mo Ziyuan, “if he returns my things.”

Mo Ziyuan’s face gradually went red, before he erupted indignantly, “liar! I did not take anything from you! Tell me, you damned omega, when did I take your things!?”

Omega? Jingyi thought, Mo Xuanyu is an omega? How Madam Mo and her son treated him now made more sense, but still, it was odd Jingyi couldn’t figure that out from scent alone.

“Yes you did!” Mo Xuanyu shot back. He was smiling with such force it dimpled his cheeks, and Jingyi was extremely perplexed, “you did too take them! In fact, I would say that you stole my things, and you did so in the middle of the night! How rude! How disgraceful! And now you won’t even face your crimes!? What kind of young master are you!? I want my stuff back!”

Jingyi watched, in vague horror, as Mo Ziyuan hefted up a table and chucked it toward Mo Xuanyu.

He mouthed, holy shit, as it hit, the wood shattering with an air shattering smash, chunks and splinters flying everywhere.

Jingyi had to scoot back to avoid them, and Mo Xuanyu seemed to disappear again as he jumped just out of reach.

The servant trying to yank him off like a parent would to an insolent child, fell back on his ass.

Mo Xuanyu ran and cowered behind Sizhui, whose hand was gripping the hilt of his sword. A sliver of silver peaked out of the sheathe.

His stormy eyes left Jingyi, and returned to Madam Mo, leveling her with a stare that made Jingyi gulp.

Aggressive, alpha pheromones swarmed the room. Jingyi could make out A-Yuan’s; sharp, ashy, demanding attention and obedience.

His throat went dry.

“Murderer, murderer, help, help! He’s trying to kill me!”

Mo Ziyuan shot forward, hand outstretched, reaching for Xuanyu’s cowering form, but didn’t even make it close to it’s mark.

Sizhui snatched his wrist in a snap. His hand was white knuckled, gripping so hard Ziyuan squawked. The room returned to quietness, besides Mo Xuanyu’s pathetic simpering, though the tension was palpable and so thick, Jingyi could cut it with his sword.

Sizhui’s face melted into something apologetic, but it was mostly out of politeness. Jingyi could tell.

“Young master Mo,” he placated, “please, calm down.”

The temperamental young master snatched his hand back, and reared for another strike, “oh, back off!”

And then, in what was most likely the nicest thing the woman ever did in her life, Madam Mo caught her son’s swinging arm and guided him away.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, “my son is just upset, you see! As anyone would be, being falsely accused of theft! You see…that crazy ome– I mean, that Mo Xuanyu, he’s not right in the head, young masters. He’s ill! Constantly spouting nonsense! Please, ignore him.”

“Nonsense!?” Mo Xuanyu exclaimed, over his cowering, “what is this nonsense you speak up!? I’m not lying, I’m enlightened! Hmph! Try stealing from me again, and I’ll cut your arm off!”

Punctuating his sentence with a crude gesture of a sword coming down, Mo Xuanyu directed a glare at Ziyuan.

“Mother, mother, are you going to let him bully me!?” Mo Ziyuan struggled, indignant, in his mother’s grasp.

“Be quiet!” Madam Mo hissed in response.

“Your family issues do not concern me,” Sizhui interjected, face dark, “our priority is extinguishing the problem by summoning spirits and exterminating the fierce corpses, which we need to start preparing for. It will be dangerous, so please, warn the villagers that we will be setting up wards, and to stay inside once the sun sets. Do not break any of the seals, and avoid the back courtyard, and keep all windows and doors shut.”

That was a clear dismissal, a decisive cut to the conversation. Jingyi was impressed Sizhui ended what Madam Mo, their elder, could not. He gazed in quiet awe as Sizhui stood, the silence heavy.

Jingyi rose up on unsteady feet and bowed, sparing a glance at Mo Xuanyu. He was staring at them curiously, no hint of his previous insanity present on his face.

Just who the hell was that guy?

“Thank you for explaining the situation, Madam Mo. We will exterminate these corpses and free your village of them tonight.”

Sizhui did the same, and as he strode out, he did not look behind him.

Jingyi hurried to follow, and as he stared back, he noticed that Mo Xuanyu was already gone.

“What do you think we should do, Jingyi?”

From where he was counting the talisman stack in his sleeve, Jingyi jolted and squeaked out a startled, “huh?”

Sizhui’s lips twitched, and Jingyi scowled.

“I mean, what do you think should be our first order of business? This is technically your assignment, after all,” he clarified, “I can guide you, but you cannot completely rely on me for this.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Jingyi nodded, gazing off to the side.

He picked at his collar–one of the habits his Laoshi had frustratingly never been able to break him out of– and gazed off to the side. If he were being honest, he forgot that the assignment was his, and Sizhui was just here out of chaperone related duties. Don’t get him wrong, Jingyi was really glad his friend was here, by his side, because he didn’t know how the confrontation with Madam Mo and…that lunatic, Mo Xuanyu, would have gone without Sizhui’s calm demeanor and intervention.

Honestly, Jingyi didn’t know if Madam Mo would have even talked to him if Sizhui wasn’t there. He would probably have been turned away as soon as she caught a whiff of him.

And, knowing himself, Jingyi wouldn’t have been surprised if he caused a diplomatic incident. The woman was just such an ass.

That, and Jingyi didn’t have any leadership experience. Second hand, sure, he’d been on enough nighthunts to have a basic understanding of what to do depending on the problem they faced and how to command others.

But, unlike most of his seniors, Jingyi did not have to command a legion of juniors. Just Sizhui, and, unlike his clanmates, he had confidence that Sizhui would be more inclined to listen to him.

Jingyi took a deep breath and pressed a hand to his cheek. What if he fucked up? Picked the wrong course of action? He’d never be let out if he messed up. And, this time, ‘messing up’ wasn’t limited to forgetting to bring a flare, or being blind sided in a spar. This was a real problem, one that could have serious consequences that weren’t just him being locked up.

There were citizens here that were counting on them. On him.

And for the first time in his life, he really, really couldn’t afford to fail.

Besides, Zewu-Jun said he could handle it no problem! So…hopefully it would be no problem and Jingyi wouldn’t be shunned and locked away for the rest of his life.

“Right,” he pounded a fist into his palm, “okay. What to do, right, right…”

Sizhui cocked his head in a silent gesture to continue.

“Well, based on what Madam Mo told us, the problem is fierce corpses, right? But we don’t have much background information on the village, so we don’t know if there is a reason for the sudden attacks, so we have to trust her word,” he paused, looking at Sizhui, “so, the best course of action would to set up some spirit attraction flags around the perimeter to draw them here, instead of trying to hunt them down on the outskirts of the village. That way, we can take them down in one go and not have to worry about any stragglers! How…how does that sound?”

Sizhui’s eyes were bright when he replied, “an excellent plan, Jingyi.”

Jingyi’s gaze furrowed into a mean glare, “that was what you were planning, anyway, wasn’t it? That’s why you told them to avoid the backyard! You…!”

He trailed off when Sizhui started laughing, bright and breezily, into his robe sleeve. Jingyi watched how his eyes sparkled and crinkled above it, and felt himself flushing up to his hairline.

“You are such a…!” Jingyi whacked him with blank talisman paper. His friend danced out of his way, plucking it out of his palm, and flicking it back into his face. Jingyi sputtered and batted it away.

“Jeez, you couldn’t just tell me, huh,” Jingyi said sulkily, elbowing Sizhui, “I just embarrassed myself and you’re laughing.”

Sizhui continued to chuckle.

“Why are you embarrassed? I did not tell you to be embarrassed, Jingyi,” Sizhui held up his hands, knowing damn well he was being a little shit, “I just wanted to know what you had in mind. This is your nighthunt, after all. And if you had a different plan, I would have followed you anyway. But…I was pretty certain this is what you were thinking.”

“What,” Jingyi grumbled, arms crossed, “are you a mind reader now?”

“No. But what you just told me was textbook.”

“I–” Jingyi raised his voice, ready to object. But…well, he really couldn’t. What he came up with was pretty textbook.

Trailing off into a frustrated growl, Jingyi put his face in his hands.

“Okay, okay, whatever, you’re right. As per usual,” Jingyi continued, making the executive decision to ignore Sizhui’s muffled laughs.

As silence befell them, Jingyi looked up, only for his eyes to meet Sizhui’s side-profile. His friend’s face was tilted upwards towards the sun, the bright, midafternoon beams igniting his skin. It made him look pure.

“The sun will be setting in a few hours. We should get started on the banners.”

Jingyi willed himself to look away from Sizhui, finding faux interest in the grass, “I’ll write them, Sizhui. You should go scout for areas where we can hang them. How many do you think we need?”

Sizhui nodded in agreement, “I won’t know until I do a search around the perimeter,” he hopped onto his sword, “start making them, I’ll be back soon with an exact number. Oh, and Jingyi? Make sure you restock your talismans.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He lingered for a while longer, and as Jingyi quizzically tilted his head, his friend smiled softly– it was tender, and sweet.

“I can tell you’re nervous, Jingyi. But you’ll do fine. You’re perfectly capable of this, don’t doubt that for a second. And should anything go wrong, I’ll be here to help you.”

Sizhui’s earthy scent wafted toward him as a gentle breeze blew. Jingyi sighed. His scent never failed to calm him down.

He was nervous, but that was to be expected. On every night hunt, there was a tension in the air that Jingyi privately dubbed pre-hunt jitters. It suffocated their groups every time they were in a forest, or on an assignment, and it was natural. What they trained for was dangerous, but that made it all the more important.

That weighing responsibility was new. Yet, it was a path into his future as a cultivator.

Jingyi set his shoulders and smiled shakily, “I know. Now go on, already! We look lazy, sitting here like this! Hurry, hurry!”

As Sizhui lifted off into the sky, Jingyi’s eyes followed him, and he could’ve sword he saw a flash of black disappear behind a roof as he gazed behind him.

Jingyi and Sizhui had just finished eating when they heard it.

The food was mediocre; sure, it was a nice vacation from Gusu’s bland, unseasoned food, but the cooks at Mo Manor seemed to have an affinity for putting too much spice– so much that it felt like ash in Jingyi’s mouth. They gave them some chicken, which Sizhui pointedly did not touch, but not even he could enjoy it.

Jingyi, not enjoying chicken! That was a testament to how bad it was.

Still, hungry after a long day of flight and planning, they both scoffed it down. ‘It’ being rice, which only the most gifted could mess up, and vegetables.

They would need the energy soon, anyway.

The sun had just set behind the horizon line, shrouding the world into almost full darkness. It was at this time that they would head out to wait for the fierce corpses to arrive, and the time the residents should all be inside, per Sizhui’s orders.

“Where do you think that Mo Xuanyu disappeared off to?” Jingyi asked as he stacked his bowls.

When Sizhui didn’t answer, Jingyi peered at him curiously. His expression was..off-putting– Sizhui’s face was paler than normal, his eyes intense, lips set into a grim line.

“M-mad…madman! Madman!! Murderer, murderer!”

The blaring shrieks echoed off of the silent courtyard. The clay bowls Jingyi had been holding dropped out of his startled hands, shattering across the floor. Their eyes met, panicked.

“You don’t think…they’re already here!? The spirit attraction flags shouldn’t be activated yet!!”

Sizhui slammed the door open, furiously making his way down the wooden path, Jingyi hot on his heels.

“They shouldn’t be,” Sizhui answered, eyebrows furrowed, “unless the wards were tampered with by a civilian.”

Jingyi’s breath hitched. He sped up to match Sizhui’s break-neck pace, “Sizhui, we told them to avoid the backyard, right!? Don’t they know not to mess with any cultivation flags? Especially ones that look as ominous as that!? And you told them that! Repeatedly!! Is our accent that hard to understand!?”

“I don’t know. We don’t have any proof, either. For now, we need to see what happened,” Sizhui breathed, before Jingyi could go off on a tangent. His eyes found his, “and who died.”

Jingyi’s throat tightened, and he looked resolutely forward as they hopped the steps from the wooden walkway and onto the grassy courtyard.

A deafening sea of pattering feet surrounded them as servants came flooding out of their quarters. They were as loud as the heartbeat pounding away in Jingyi’s ears. People came to abrupt stops around them; Alphas holding lanterns out as Betas coward behind them, and as the light illuminated the space around them, Jingyi saw boots. And then robes. Then finally, a gaunt face almost hidden in the bushes.

At the end of it, Mo Xuanyu kneeled, a stick between two of his fingers, looking like nothing less than a confused deer caught in the lantern light.

The paint was washed off his face– the only remainder of the gaudy face paint was where flakes of it were stuck on his hairline. He looked to be made of delicate jewels underneath the moon, and the firelight of the lanterns highlighted the fragile paleness of his natural skin.

The body lying in front of him was that of Mo Ziyuan, the pompous Alpha young master of the Mo clan.

There was a sudden noise behind him, grating wailing that rose levels above the fearful murmuring of the crowd, ricocheting off of the still air. Jingyi stepped out of the way to avoid getting knocked into as Madam Mo came scrambling through a forced gap between the assembled crowd, falling to her knees at the foot of the body.

“Ziyuan, Ziyuan,” she cried, grappling at his robes, “it can’t be…it can’t be…”

She crawled further up his body, arms coming up around his neck and lifting him. Mo Ziyuan’s head lolled lifelessly.

“My poor boy, oh, my poor boy…how could this happen to you?” She cried, shaking as she lowered herself into him.

Jingyi’s fist tightened around his sword, quivering. He felt an overwhelming pity for the woman, despite himself. Stealing a glance at Sizhui, at his stick straight posture, and the way his head was lowered in an almost unnoticeable manner–just so his eyes were obscured by his bangs–, he could tell he felt the same.

His friend was doing a very good job at concealing his pheromones. But not totally, because Jingyi could pick up an undertone of intense ash.

Jingyi looked away from Madam Mo as she continued to wail.

“Who did this to you!? How could you leave me like this!? Ziyuan…oh, Ziyuan…what will I do without you?”

Her voice was warbled by her sobs, the words so soft he almost couldn’t make them out.

The people around them sent uneasy glances to each other. Some were looking down, others resolutely away. There was a melting pot of unfamiliar, distressed scents in the air, and Jingyi felt vaguely sick.

“Jingyi,” Sizhui whispered. His voice was completely wiped of emotion. It didn’t fit, “look.”

Confused, Jingyi watched as Madam Mo’s trembling hand slid down her dead son’s shoulder, only to meet nothing.

The arm was totally gone. There was nothing underneath the sleeve from the shoulder down.

Jingyi’s breath caught in his throat and he stiffened, gaze landing on Mo Xuanyu, who had situated himself against the wall, staring with an indecipherable look in his eyes. The omega’s face was completely blank; it made Jingyi’s spine stiffen in unease.

“Hmph! Try stealing from me again, and I’ll cut your arm off!”

His stare narrowed. He observed Mo Xuanyu, the weirdly scented lunatic who had burst into their lives with a loud flourish and caused destructive mayhem behind every step. Annoying, sure, but capable of killing? He supposed people were more than what they portrayed on a surface level, and given how Mo Ziyuan had spoken and acted around him, Xuanyu most likely had probable cause, but…

“Sizhui,” he whispered, watching as Madam Mo drew herself up, “you don’t think…”

Sizhui didn’t answer. His eyes were burning into Mo Xuanyu, but they didn’t look accusing. Rather, curiously assessing.

“It was you,” the Madam spat, mouth dripping with venom. She punctuated her words with heavy steps, “you did this. You damned, wretched omega. You should have died with your mother, you worthless, worthless maggot! How could you!? He was just a child! A child! You bastard of a human being! Why couldn’t you die!?”

Jingyi, in lieu of watching her break down even more– or watching Mo Xuanyu get continuously verbally berated– stared back down at the corpse. Taking note of it’s gauntness, how all the fat had seemingly melted off its body, leaving it nothing but gray and blue tinted skin stretched against bone. Its eyes were rolled, yellowish, back in it’s sockets. The expression it was frozen with could only be described as agonized.

There was not a speck of blood.

He gasped as realization hit him, “the corpse…”

“...wasn’t killed by a human hand,” Sizhui finished gravely.

As Madam Mo Lunged, so did Sizhui and another nameless servant. Her hands were outstretched, aiming for Mo Xuanyu. The omega didn’t even flinch, not even as her sharp nails almost made contact with his skin. He only put his arm up in front of his face in what looked like an afterthought.

“You wretched bastard, why couldn’t you die!?”

The servant had grabbed the hysterical Alpha, struggling to keep a grip on her. Sizhui crossed his arms, a foot away from the struggle.

“Let…let me go!” She cried, voice cracking, “this instant. I will avenge Ziyuan, let me avenge my son!”

Mo Xuanyu peeked out from behind his arm, “avenge him? I didn’t kill him, though.”

Madam Mo froze– it was probably a good thing, too, because the servant didn’t seem like he could hold her back much longer, “you…you…what did you say?”

“Madam Mo,” Sizhui called. Her anguished, teary eyed gaze snapped to him. He gestured pointedly at the corpse, “your son’s flesh and blood have been sucked dry. The only way this could have happened would be an evil spirit. A human could not have done this. Mo Xuanyu couldn’t have done this.”

“That lunatic killed him!” She spat back, getting in his face. Sizhui, admirably, did not move. His expression gave away nothing, “you heard him earlier today. How he threatened my son! You heard him say that he would chop his arm off, and now look!”

Stepping away from Sizhui, she once again directed her ire toward Mo Xuanyu, “I’ll..I’ll kill you! I don’t care if you're an omega, I do not care if you are my nephew, I will kill you!”

Mo Xuanyu remained silent for a solid three seconds before tears gathered in his eyes and he started screaming, “don’t kill me, don’t kill me!”. Wailing, he took off, arms waving around in that stupid, crazy way he ran. He spotted Jingyi, leaning down and surveying the corpse, and they locked eyes.

Jingyi felt sudden dread, and was proven correct as Mo Xuanyu jumped toward him, sniveling, “help me, help me!”.

Before Jingyi could even think of scrambling back to avoid the oncoming bombardment, Mo Xuanyu’s foot caught on the body and both he and the corpse went rolling.

A spirit attraction flag poked out of the now jostled corpse. Jingyi gasped, face losing color.

Gravely, he snatched the flag and handed it to Sizhui, who closed his eyes for a second as he saw it.

What a stupid Alpha, Jingyi thought, staring sadly at the corpse of Mo Ziyuan, didn’t we explain not to touch anything? Man, he really brought his death on himself but…we still should’ve been out here.

“Madam Mo,” Sizhui sighed, “we know how your son died. This,” he brandished the flag. Madam Mo blanched, “is a spirit attraction flag. It is used to summon ghosts or evil spirits, along with anything infested with resentful energy besides cursed objects. Your son was carrying this flag, and in doing so, he made himself a target. As a non cultivator, your son was unprepared when the spirit attacked him. Madam Mo…this flag summoned what killed your son.”

The Madam snatched the spirit attraction flag out of Sizhui’s hand. Jingyi was, again, impressed at how he didn’t flinch.

Her putrid pheromones filled the air, and this time, Jingyi did cover his nose. His stomach turned.

“That’s…that’s nonsense! It’s just a stupid piece of fabric! How could this…how could this stupid…oh, Ziyuan,” she sobbed, shoulders quivering, “Ziyuan…”

“You…” She suddenly whirled on Sizhui. There was a sudden spark of scent that had Jingyi’s innards shaking, “you people talk about your cultivation and your…your demons! But you couldn’t even protect a child!” Her hands reached out and grabbed Sizhui by the front of his robes. He didn’t protest, and red hot fury bubbled up inside of Jingyi as she yelled into his face, “what good are you to me!? To anyone!?”

Sizhui took the verbal beating like it was nothing. But Jingyi could see how tightly his fists were clenched. In his own anger, Jingyi scoffed.

Her head snapped toward Jingyi, and he barely kept himself from stepping back as a wave of soured, angry, tepid Alpha scent hit his face. In his peripheral, Sizhui stiffened to a painful degree, “I bet it’s your fault, you stupid omega. Why would the lan clan send you? If they had sent two capable Alphas then my son would still be alive! You…you should pay with your life!”

Sizhui whipped around toward them, lips pulled back into a snarl. Jingyi squared his shoulders and looked directly into Madam Mo’s furied eyes.

He could taste ash on his tongue. Sizhui’s scent burnt.

“What is this you're on about, Madam Mo? For shame, for shame! Are you blind?” Mo Xuanyu jumped into frame. Jingyi jolted– he hadn’t seen him leave, “who, this? A child? How old was your son? Seventeen? Eighteen? And yet, he still wouldn’t listen! Those young men said again and again not to go out at night and mess with anything, lest you accidentally break a seal! He just didn’t listen. And that’s not my fault, and it isn’t theirs either! Your son’s death was on him.”

“As for that omega,” he continued, pointing his chin in Jingyi’s direction, “I’d be careful how you speak to him. After all, the fate of your village has been placed on their shoulders, right? He’s under no obligation to give his all in a fight for someone who has been so ungrateful to him, not. At. All! And… it looks like you made his alpha companion angry too…not wise, not wise, not even a little bit!”

Madam Mo’s eyes darted in between Sizhui, Jingyi, and Xuanyu manically. She swallowed with visible struggle, either choosing to ignore the last part of what Mo Xuanyu had said or not having an answer.

“Then,” her voice shook, “then…that flag! You must have slipped it into my son’s pocket! You…you killed Ziyuan, I know you did. It must have been you! There’s no…no other explanation!”

She surged forward, grasping Mo Xuanyu in the way she did Sizhui, “give him back! Give me back my son! You are just as worthless as that whore of a mother you had, you…!”

Jingyi froze where he was standing. The atmosphere had changed into something darker. Sinister. There was a looming presence that wasn’t there before; and it felt overwhelmingly resentful. He shivered.

Sizhui noticed it too– he was surveying the crowd with a hidden franticness.

Their eyes met, and Jingyi nodded, hand falling to his sword and tilting it down.

Something was moving behind them. Jingyi tried to follow the slight, red glow with his eyes, but lost sight of it just as something went flying over their heads.

Jingyi had just enough time to mouth, “shit” before the thing landed right where Mo Xuanyu and Madam Mo were standing.

The Madam landed on her back, and Mo Xuanyu was nowhere to be seen.

The crowd around them dispersed rapidly as someone shouted to run, and a symphony of frantic feet and slamming doors erupted. In a matter of seconds, everything was once again silent.

Jingyi watched in horrified fascination as the corpse’s head cracked and gargled, twisting unnaturally all the way around, moaning gutturally. It didn’t seem focused on them at all, which was weird.

Then, it took off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dirt in its wake.

“Help me, Help! Help!” Mo Xuanyu’s voice ricocheted off the walls and Jingyi cursed out loud.

“Fierce corpse!” Sizhui yelled, already on his sword, “we need to go after it!”

“Right!” Jingyi affirmed, drawing his own, “Sizhui, you get it away from Young Master Mo and draw it into the open, I’ll meet you at the other end of the courtyard! We’ll corner it!”

Sizhui nodded, and they were off.

Jingyi ran, and he ran like his life depended on it.

He couldn’t fly, not in those narrow pathways. Sure, his sword was made more for agility rather  than strength, as was the traditional Lan build, but he wasn’t very adept at flying through tight cornered places.

Running was familiar. It was simple– he could narrow it down to one rapid foot in front of the other. He could focus on the methodical rhythm of his breathing and the rough beating of his heart.

His feet slapped the stone as he weaved through the large maze of alleyways beside the courtyard of Mo Manor, dodging staircases and stone flower beds as he rounded the building.

Whiteness rose from somewhere to his left. Sizhui’s robes stood stark against the darkness of the sky, looking ethereal as he spun into a traditional Lan mavuervation, landing behind the building’s roof. There was the sound of cutting metal, and Jingyi darted in that direction.

He came out from behind the wall at the opposite end just as Sizhui slammed down from the sky and onto the fierce corpse.

They danced a waltz of sheer power. Resentful energy emitted from the fierce corpse like wispy smoke, and Sizhui’s familiar, spiritual energy crackled in the air around them.

It was a blur of white and silver as Sizhui attacked. He moved expertly across the courtyard, his footwork strong and graceful, sword strikes quick and precise. He was incredible, going toe to toe with the fierce corpse, and not lacking for a second.

Incredible, strong, brave. Jingyi’s heart beat faster.

Sizhui landed a strong strike just as Jingyi caught up behind him. The corpse was knocked back by the force of it, growling low in its throat.

A lit, burning talisman between his two fingers, Sizhui darted forward and pressed it to it’s head. The blue light became impossibly bright, spreading all over its body and curling toward the sky.

Sizhui landed on two feet, skidding backwards toward him and straightening. The corpse froze, limbs twitching, it’s groans growing louder and louder as the talisman’s energy increased.

“That was close,” Jingyi panted, “Jeez, I didn’t get to do anything.”

Resentful energy came bursting out of it’s open mouth. The corpse made an animalistic noise around it, almost like it was gagging–and wasn’t that gross– before it stopped.

When the stream of dark energy stopped, the golden light of the talisman faded out, and the corpse dropped listlessly onto the ground. Like a stringless marinette.

A harsh, malevolent breeze aggressively flew through the courtyard. And, one by one, the swinging lanterns were blown out.

Jingyi really, really hated that.

Sighing, Jingyi made to approach the corpse, Sizhui right behind him. He knelt down to it’s level, searching the exposed skin he could see.

They met eyes, and Sizhui’s lips set into a thin line as Jingyi said, “flesh and blood, completely drained. It’s…the exact same as Young Master Mo.”

“G-ghosts…so it is true…”

Jingyi looked behind him, scowling when he saw Madam Mo, pale white and trembling, still seated by her son’s limp corpse. Did she not take the hint when everyone else went inside!?

His hands quivered. He hated evil spirits. He hated all spirits! They scared him! They were his least favorite thing to deal with. Especially in dark courtyards where all the lights mysteriously go out for no apparent reason. If there was a wind god, they were definitely against Jingyi and making his life hard specifically.

“Madam Mo,” Jingyi said, a hand pinching his forehead, “stay there. Don’t move.”

“Sizhui,” He beckoned, turning back around. His friend nodded to him, “what are you thinking? We know this isn’t a fierce corpse problem now. It’s an evil spirit. What kind do you think it is?”

An evil spirit wasn’t in the report. Whoever filed it obviously did not do their research. But, then again, normal citizens most likely don’t know the difference between fierce corpses and evil spirits.

It’s just a fierce corpse problem, Zewu-Jun said. You’re perfectly capable of handling it, Zewu-Jun said.

“I don’t know,” Sizhui frowned. His eyes lit up suddenly, and he whipped out three talismans from his sleeve. They lit up gold, and pale blue spiritual energy spewed out as the characters glowed. As Sizhui shoved his arm forward, they flew out of his fingers and onto three separate items around the courtyard. A beam, the roof of a tower, and a statue.

A familiar energy glowed from beneath their feet and around their heads. Intricate patterns traced the ground in pure white, and as the designs met in the middle, a burst of light illuminated the courtyard.

Jingyi grinned, “a ghost repelling barrier!? Sizhui, you’re so smart, I didn’t even think of that! So, you set it up before, huh?”

Sizhui returned his smile, albeit tensely, “I did, when I was scouting for places to mount the spirit attraction flags. But…look,” he pointed to the symbols lining the ground, “It wasn’t damaged at all.”

Shoulders slumping, Jingyi patted Sizhui’s shoulder, “aw, man. That’s a shame. It’s pretty well made, too. But…if it hasn’t been damaged then…what exactly are we dealing with here? It still has to be a..a..an evil spirit, right? Or, maybe it wasn’t a fierce ghost?”

“One victim in seven days. That’s the standard set by the Yiling Patriarch,” Sizhui said, touching a finger to his chin.

Jingyi felt better now that they were both confused. It did not help them at all, though, now that Sizhui had no idea what was going on.

Jingyi had been lost once “ghost” was mentioned.

“But…” Sizhui continued.

“...whatever this is, it hasn’t killed just one person. It killed three people. In a row. So it can’t be an unsuppressed evil spirit, right?”

“Right,” Sizhui affirmed, “this is far more ferocious than a fierce ghost.”

Jingyi winced. He really did not sign up for any of this.

But, he was a cultivator. And solving this and eliminating whatever was plaguing Mo Village was his duty as a Lan. Zewu-Jun had said that he believed in him, without a doubt, and that he could complete this assignment. Sure, maybe it got a little more above intermediate level, but failure wasn’t an option. It wasn’t before, but especially now that they know that this spirit has no limitations on killing.

They were called here to extinguish and protect. And Jingyi planned to follow through with that until the end, no matter how much his hands shook, no matter how scared he might be.

“That’s…” he swallowed, trying to control his scent, “really tricky. What do you think we should do?”

Sizhui stared at him, a pinch on his face. Jingyi desperately wanted to smooth it out, but that wouldn’t help.

He strode forward, head held high, until his body seemed to glow in the moonlight.

“Send the signal,” he said. Their gazes met. Jingyi frowned.

“Sizhui…there’s most likely no one else around. And…if no one comes to back us up, then, well, we’re kind of screwed here.”

Jingyi watched as Sizhui’s back went rigid, “That doesn’t matter. As members of the Lan Clan, we must make sure none of these people die. We’re their protection, and we must not fail them. We must wait for backup to arrive. Jingyi, if I tell you to leave, you will.”

“What? What are you talking about, I won’t do that! I’m not deserting you if you tell me to, are you mad?”

Sizhui closed his eyes, “I’m not arguing with you on this, Jingyi.”

“Well, I’m arguing on this! I’m not doing that!”

Sizhui took a step into his space. And Jingyi did not move back, he did not, because Sizhui could never scare him, would never–

He took a step back.

“I am your senior, and you are my junior. If I deem this too dangerous for you to stay, it is my priority as the senior disciple to make you leave. For your protection.”

Jingyi blinked in surprise as Sizhui growled. Growled. At Him! He rarely ever raised his voice in general, at much less to him. Never mind growl.

The omega in him told him to bare his neck and obey. Jingyi told it to shut the fuck up, even though it took a lot of strength to not. Thank you, Lan training.

Jingyi glowered at Sizhui, thinking, fat chance, asshole.

Instead of voicing that and having Sizhui force him into submission, which he wouldn’t do on purpose, he rolled his eyes and said, “yeah, sure, whatever. If you want to fight a ghost on your own, be my guest. I hate those things.”

Sizhui’s face turned guilty, going all ‘kicked puppy’. Before he could say anything, Jingyi turned around and took out the flare from his qiankun pouch. He scratched the top on the stone and it sparked. Holding it up to the sky, it shot up, and a loud boom echoed across the courtyard.

The Gusu cloud symbol illuminated the sky in light blue. It lit up the yard, and Jingyi could finally see two feet in front of his face.

“Let's look at that corpse some more,” Jingyi branched, shoving the empty flare back inside the qiankun pouch, “but we have to be quick.”

Without waiting for an answer, Jingyi took off.

The unnamed servant’s corpse was as still as it was when they left it. Which wasn't surprising. Sizhui did a number on it.

Jingyi couldn’t identify anything that he hadn’t seen already.

“Jingyi,” Sizhui nudged him, “the left arm.”

“What?” Jingyi frowned, moving his searching hand to the left shoulder and down. His hand fell through where the arm should have been. His blood abruptly went cold.

“The left arm…it’s gone! Just like Mo Ziyuan’s! Sizhui, Sizhui, did it attack you with that arm?”

His friend’s expression was heavy and grim, “it did.”

“So then…”

Suddenly, that same, sinister presence was back. It made both of them freeze, sweat freezing on their backs. It weighed down on their shoulders, immensely ominous and threatening. That power, that energy, was purely and disturbingly resentful.

And it was coming from behind them.

Jingyi was on his feet in an instant, Sizhui right by his side. Frenzied, they looked at each other.

“It’s the left arm!” Jingyi shouted.

Madam Mo had risen from her comatose spot on the ground. Slumped at an unnatural angle, her body was highlighted by the fading light of the Gusu Lan flare symbol. Drool fell out of her gaping mouth in rivets, and Jingyi’s nose turned up in disgust.

“Let’s go!” Sizhui yelled back.

Jingyi took off as Sizhui gave the command. Side by Side, they ran toward the former body of Madam Mo.

“You take one arm, I’ll get the other!”

Jingyi jerked as he changed directions, coming to a skidding stop behind the corpse. Together, he and Sizhui grabbed their respective arms.

“Forgive us for this, Madam!” Sizhui apologized as they pulled her limbs taught and lowered her toward the ground so she couldn’t move them.

“Waah! Don’t leave me alone! I’m scared!”

Jingyi’s head shot up. Why was Mo Xuanyu still here!?

The omega bounded over to them. The tears on his lashes gave way to a cheerful expression as he danced in front of the unresponsive corpse. He giggled, and hopped closer, like a rabbit, wiggling a leaf in its face.

“Wo-o-ow! You got her!” He exclaimed, “let’s see you try and beat me again!”

Madam Mo growled at him, and Mo Xuanyu fell back with a cry.

“Oh no, she’s moving! She’s moving! Ahhh! He-e-e-lp!”

He ran away with his hands in the air. Jingyi rolled his eyes. Sizhui looked like he was one more Mo Xuanyu related outburst from screaming. In any other situation, it would have been quite funny. Jingyi would have laughed at him.

Sizhui flashed a talisman. Just as it began to glow, the arms beneath them started to move.

Jingyi had never felt something more disgusting than a corpse’s joints and bones popping and rearranging themselves beneath his fingers.

They broke free of their hold. Jingyi went sprawling back, breath stuck in his lungs, surprised when he really shouldn’t be about the sheer strength the corpse showcased.

The other arm, the left one– the one Sizhui had been holding down, shot straight up toward his face. The Alpha, startled, dove out of the way as it came down again. His footwork was off, he was unbalanced, and Jingyi was utterly helpless as the corpse’s clawed hand hurled right toward his throat.

Overcome with despair, Jingyi’s eyes widened in horror. All he could do was open his mouth to fruitlessly call his friend’s name, but not even that escaped his throat as he was suddenly thrust forward.

Pain erupted throughout his back as he sailed through the air. He landed on something solid–someone whose arms came up around his back as they made contact and then–something colder, sharp and wrong came in contact with the back of his robes.

The world exploded in gold, and he was suddenly behind Sizhui.

Sizhui, who had almost gotten mauled by a fierce corpse, but had still tried to shield him with his body as Mo Xuanyu kicked him forward.

“The spell on our robes, Jingyi! They work!” Sizhui’s voice sounded next to his ear. He was grappling at his outer robe, and it was then that Jingyi recognized the heat.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He yelped as he shook the fabric off. He looked toward Mo Xuanyu, who was cowering behind a beam. Jingyi…really couldn’t bring himself to be mad, not when he saved Sizhui.

Apparently, his friend did not have the same sentiment, because next thing he knew, Sizhui had growled– again! Growled!– at Mo Xuanyu.

“Why did you kick him!?”

The other omega’s eyes were glinting. Jingyi could not tell if it was from glee or fear. Even so, the man whimpered as he responded, “what are you talking about? That wasn’t me!!”

Sizhui gritted his teeth as he turned away, refocusing on Jingyi.

“Jingyi, the spell on the clothes. Let’s use it to apprehend the corpse. Go!”

His arm burnt, his lungs wheezed in protest, his head was pounding, his heart sending painful pulses down to his toes–

“Right! Let’s…let’s do this, Sizhui!”

With a final nod, Sizhui leapt onto the nearest roof while Jingyi tore straight through the courtyard. He unsheathed his sword as he drew near to Madam Mo’s corpse, and when he got close enough, he threw the robe into the sky.

Sizhui matched his pace, racing across the rooftop until he was behind the fierce corpse. He spun off of the shingles, delicate and graceful as a butterfly, and his outer robe came off in a flurry of effortless movement.

Golden runes sprang into the air with a deafening ring, trapping the corpse from above and below.

“Formation!”

Jingyi ran, and he ignored everything– the pain in his arm, the fear grappling at his heart, he just ran, sword glinting.

He skidded to a stop across from Sizhui, and together, they lifted their swords into the air. Flaming with spiritual energy, there was a simultaneous, metal shing as they plunged the blades into the stone.

Cracks spider-webbed their way out around the spell, quickly filling with their energy. Jingyi could feel the warmth of Sizhui’s from his own blade as it spread smoothly around the spell runes.

Madam Mo’s corpse twitched and roared, it’s voice inhuman and furious. Resentful energy swirled rapidly around it’s form, before it was covered by huge torrents of it.

Her silhouette struggled from inside as the energy burnt around her. Her animalistic growls reached the heavens.

Jingyi felt his sword rattle. He struggled to keep it in the ground.

He weakly glanced at Sizhui. The Alpha was struggling too, sweat beading on his brow as he held the sword down with two hands.

Pain seared it’s way up his biceps as his other hand pressed down on the handle. They couldn’t let the spell break, or–!

The resentful energy dispersed and for a second, Jingyi felt hope, he felt relief–

But then, the Madam’s corpse reared back and screamed toward the sky, and tendrils of condensed resentful energy shot toward the sky. Within seconds, it broke through the spell, and the golden light shattered and left the courtyard shrouded in darkness.

Jingyi’s hands went slack. Sweat dripped down his back. All he felt was dread.

“It…” he murmured. He steeled his shoulders, “Sizhui! It broke!”

His friend’s eyes were wide and scared. It shook Jingyi to his core, because he had never seen him like this.

A-Yuan was strong. That was what he came to associate him with. A-Yuan was strong, and kind. He would grow to be powerful, because he had infallible leadership, he was gifted with the sword, and he could bring down every opponent in the ring.

Their eyes met, and Jingyi knew that he felt as helpless as Sizhui did.

Jingyi jumped back, out of formation as the last of the resentful energy streamed out of the fierce corpse’s mouth.

Sizhui appeared beside him, panting.

“We have to try and bring it down,” Sizhui said, voice quivering.

Jingyi gripped his sword.

“Key word being try. Hey, any word on back up, yet?”

Sizhui just looked at him. Jingyi shrugged.

They attacked the fierce corpse with a fierceness Jingyi hadn’t know he could muster up. Even between the two of them– Sizhui’s precinct and swift slices, Jingyi’s sneak attacks, they couldn’t land a single hit.

Even still, every time they got knocked back, they’d jump right back in. Even as the collection of bruises became more apparent, even as sharp nails nicked their arms, even as fatigue brushed at their minds, they kept fighting.

One well placed attack sent Jingyi flying, his sword out of hand, and Sizhui, stupid, stupid Sizhui abanonded the corpse to catch him, shielding him as they fell.

He landed on top of him, Sizhui’s arms around his waist, his body absorbing the impact. Still holding him, Sizhui struggled to his feet.

“I don’t…think we can beat this thing, Sizhui,” Jingyi groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

There weren’t many things that surprised him in his line of work–they were cultivators, and anything weird they saw would most definitely be replaced with an even weirder thing. It was an infinite cycle that, when you fought fierce corpses for a living, would never end.

That being said, when the downed corpse of Mo Ziyuan arose with a fresh, nauseating burst of resentful energy and shot at its mother, Jingyi was almost certain that was the oddest thing in the world. A fierce corpse brawl? He’d never heard of that happening–they attacked the living, not each other.

Falling to one knee, panting, he was vaguely aware of Sizhui gripping his upper arm before he crashed into the harsh stone. Looking up at his face, shrouded in dancing shadows now that the sparkling light of the flare had fully dissipated, he looked just as confused as Jingyi felt.

He wasn’t complaining, though. It gave them a chance to catch their breath.

After that, everything was a foggy haze of exhaustion and desperation. They had watched the corpses go toe to toe in a rapid dance of inhuman movements and guttural growls. Watched as the former body of Madam Mo ripped her son’s apart. Watched as resentful energy swirled like wispy tendrils of reaching smoke and took toward the sky–taking their hopes with it.

When the two risen corpses laid back on the ground and Madam Mo unsteadily dashed toward them, Sizhui stepped in front of him, shielding him, and Jingyi wanted to shout, to tell him to move out of the way, to get up and draw his sword and continue fighting–

A wift of sandalwood met his nose, and the deadly note of a gentle guqin shattered the air. His chest swelled. Finally able to breathe again, and unable to contain himself, Jingyi shouted, “Hanguang-Jun!” with such tangible relief he was surprised his mouth was spewing words and not cotton.

Beside him, Sizhui shouted the exact same thing.

(As Hanguang-Jun finally touched down in front of them, Jingyi was too occupied to notice the sudden absence of soured-orange and sweet lotus.)

There wasn’t really a day that went by where Jingyi didn’t think, Hanguang-Jun, Hanguang-Jun is so cool! 

Lan Wangji, like his son, always seemed to be complimented under whatever light shone on him. The moonlight peeking through the moving clouds made him look untouchable–not like a pale spirit, but a peerless statue carved of the finest jade. His eyes seemed to be made of jewels.

Jingyi dragged himself to his feet and waved his uninjured arm at the Alpha, like an idiot, “Hanguang-Jun, over here! That was amazing!”

He was in front of them in an instant, delicate swirl of robes. From his peripheral, Sizhui’s shoulders sagged with relief, both of them feeling lighter in the protective hold of an older Alpha’s scent.

“A-Die,” Sizhui breathed, before clearing his throat and bowing. Jingyi scrambled to do the same, “This one greets Hanguang-Jun. I…we failed to complete the assignment.”

There was a tiny, tiny pinch between Hanguang-Jun’s brows. Jingyi marveled at it, because it was the same as Sizhui’s.

Hanguang-Jun placed a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder. In his adrenaline-ridden mind, it didn’t shock Jingyi as much as it would have. He still wasn’t used to the stoic alpha giving out any sort of physical affection. In public.

Though he answered Sizhui’s question, the answer was aimed at both of them.

“This was not your assignment,” he said, “your assignment was to purge an uprising of fierce corpses within the area of Mo Village. In the initial report, it said nothing about any fierce ghosts, or other types of evil spirits. For the level of the opponent you faced, you fought well.”

“But, A-Die…” Sizhui’s gaze slowly drifted over to the limp body of Madam Mo, crumbled soullessly on the stone, before remembering himself, “ahem. Thank you, A-Die.”

“Mn.”

Jingyi swayed on his feet, and Sizhui caught his shoulder with a concerned call of his name.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. The adrenaline’s fading, you know. Boy am I glad you got here Hanguang-Jun! I thought we were dead meat for sure. We didn’t think anyone was around to see the flare. Sizhui was about to send me away. Because he’s crazy.”

“Jingyi, you’re injured, you should sit,” Sizhui responded, ignoring him entirely.

Jingyi shot a panicked look toward Hanguang-Jun, but dutifully lowered himself back onto the ground, “I’m fine, really! It’s not that bad, just an energy burn.”

“Where,” Hanguang-Jun asked. It was phrased not as a question, but as a demand. Not an Alpha command, but Jingyi doubted he had to use his Alpha command to get anyone to do anything. Lan Wangji was intimidating on his own. The Alpha kneeled down to his level as Jingyi rolled up his sleeve. He winced–it looked like his flaming outer robe did more damage than he thought. It was a hell of a burn, all right–mottled red and white skin that rose and bubbled along the sensitive skin of his forearm. There were also the telltale, lightning-strike marks from the spiritual energy.

With gentle hands, Hanguang-Jun grasped his elbow and placed two fingers below the injury. The suddenness of warm, unfamiliar spiritual energy sent him reeling, but at the same time sent a pleasantness through his tired veins. He inhaled sharply as it brushed against his mind, and some of the fatigue melted away. His eyes fluttered shut.

When he opened them, Jingyi felt more awake and most of the pain in his arm was gone. All that was left was a dull ache under his skin. That was just the difference in power between them and Hanguang-Jun, he guessed.

So cool, so cool, Hanguang-Jun!

Marveling at his arm, Jingyi twisted it around. The entire injury was practically healed.

Panicked whispers arose around them. So did the pattering of hesitant footsteps. The citizens of Mo Manor had emerged once more, wide-eyed, pale, and fearful–looking straight at them. From behind doors and from the wooden walkway of the main house. Some had lanterns–they lit up the night.

Hanguang-Jun rose gracefully and nodded at Sizhui, “Excuse me. A-Yuan, wrap Jingyi’s injury. I have healed most of it, but it is better to have it treated than not.”

“Of course, A-Die,” Sizhui replied. He sounded lighter–Hanguang-Jun must’ve given him spiritual energy, too.

Sizhui sighed as he knelt beside him, ruffling around in his qiankun pouch. Jingyi rolled his eyes.

“A-Die really hates dealing with people,” the Alpha murmured, “I feel bad.”

“I don’t want to deal with them either, so…”

It wasn’t that Jingyi would wish that on Hanguang-Jun, but if he had to deal with more betas not even granting him a look, he was going to go ballistic. And not in a good way. In a deranged omega way.

Sizhui took his arm. His fingers were calloused, his palms hardened from sword practice. They barely brushed his skin–like he was afraid of gripping too hard. Jingyi noticed he could wrap his hands all the way around his wrist and thensome.

It was silent between them as Sizhui meticulously worked the bandages around the burn. Jingyi worried his lip between his teeth, “Hey…A-Yuan.”

“Hmm, A-Ming?”

“What did you think of the way Madam Mo treated me?”

Sizhui’s scent turned ashy. Jingyi almost choked. He could taste it on his tongue. Though his demeanor darkened, Sizhui’s hands stayed precise and gentle, “I…it made me angry. Furious, I may say. You…were most likely able to tell. I didn’t subdue my scent as much as I would have liked. I will not speak ill of the dead but…I wish she had never said those words to you. A-Ming, you know they’re not true.”

“Yeah…” Jingyi sighed, rubbing his hands through the blades of grass. They were cold, “I dunno, A-Yuan. She wouldn’t look at me most of the time–and a lot of the servants turned their noses up at me too. You saw the way they treated–well, he was a lunatic, but they still treated Mo Xuanyu like garbage. I was so excited to come here today, only to find out people treat me worse here than in Gusu. At least the people in Caiyi are more or less used to me, you know? And I’ll…have to deal with people like this my entire life. Just for being an omega cultivator!”

“I think the fact that you persevere and continue becoming stronger is very admirable, Jingyi,” Sizhui returned, placing a free hand on Jingyi’s. He curled their fingers together, watching how Sizhui’s fingers dwarfed his. Jingyi felt a flush creeping along his cheekbones, thanking the gods it was dark as Sizhui squeezed their palms together, rubbing his thumb over the white-knuckled bones of Jingyi’s knuckles, “I have never lied when I told you that you were the strongest person I know. You…Jingyi, you’re constantly proving people like Madam Mo wrong. You are an incredible cultivator.”

What if I don’t want to prove people wrong, Jingyi thought, what if I wanted to be looked at as a person, someone who is already strong and doesn’t have to prove worth because of some stupid second gender?

“...yeah. Thanks Sizhui.”

His friend frowned. Normally, Jingyi would reach out and smooth the wrinkles down like he always did, but he didn’t. A part of him didn’t want to pull his hand away.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Jingyi brushed the dirt from his knees as he stood. Their hands fell apart. Jingyi’s skin tingled. Sizhui followed, “we still have work to do. The arm spirit still escaped, and…as Lans, we cannot close this assignment until we capture it. Or the casualties it continues to cause will be on us.”

Sizhui nodded at him as he tucked his qiankun pouch away. They both jumped when Hanguang-Jun’s voice sounded out in front of them.

“Correct. We may not,” he gave Jingyi an approving nod. Jingyi tried very hard not to be extremely giddy about it, “are you alright to continue?”

Steeling himself, Jingyi asserted, “of course, Hanguang-Jun.”

(As they made their way into the mountains searching for a deadly ghost spirit, Jingyi couldn’t stop the shame gnawing at the innards of his heart.

Despite his embarrassment, his disappointment, his hurt–he pushed it all a side. They had bigger things to do.)

Chapter Text

When Lan Jingyi was younger, he loved to spend time in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses. Back before the ever-persisting drama of secondary genders, back when Lan Yuan was still a tiny boy he was still a little bigger than–something he wasn’t able to hold onto for long–fresh out of the medical ward, without any memories, horribly and painstakingly lonely.

Jingyi supposed they became friends because they were both outcasts, not because he looked at Sizhui’s chubby, lost little face, and decided they should be friends. His fellow disciples didn’t like to play with him because he was loud and clumsy– two things they were already conditioned to think of as un-lan. They looked at him with pity when he got chewed out and reprimanded, too young to go copy rules because he was only just learning how to handle a calligraphy pen.

While his peers gazed at him with shameful condolence, Lan Yuan was gawked at like he was an unorthodox painting left on display.

A new child showed up, under the kinship of Hanguang-Jun, smelling of protective, bitter sandalwood while the man himself was in seclusion, he might as well have been the talk of Gusu. Gossip was forbidden, of course, but even rules can’t stop the curious looks burning into the back of a strange boy.

And Jingyi did think A-Yuan was extremely odd–one of the weirdest people he had the opportunity to meet. He was quiet, but not in the trained way most of their peers were. It was more of a subdued, downtrodden silence. The boy would sit through their lessons with tense shoulders and eyes darting about, looking about as out of place as a flower peeking through snow.

People were too afraid to get involved with A-Yuan, because he was weird. Jingyi wanted to get to know him, because he was like him. Weird.

It was one of his earliest memories, going up to A-Yuan and proclaiming that he was weird and he was lonely, too, so that meant that they were meant to be the bestest of friends. Lan Yuan had blinked at him with such surprise his eyes shone with it, bashful and apprehensive, but his little hand took Jingyi’s from where it was outstretched, and it started a friendship. In a way, they had watched each other grow up–Jingyi remembers watching A-Yuan turn from a fidgety, unsure pup to a model Lan, one that their peers no longer looked at him with the same misplaced distrust, but with awe.

He had watched his big, open smile turn into one of masked politeness, his slouched posture straighten upright, his eyes harden, and his hands sure.

Sometimes, Jingyi was sure his friend had become untouchable–a statue of shining ice, meant to be looked at and respected.

But, Jingyi remembered the secret moments, the memories he treasured in the safest part of his heart. Memories where they chased each other through the back hills, under the tolerating and watchful eyes of Hanguang-Jun. Memories where Sizhui’s smile was bright and toothy and perfect–because it brought out the beautiful imperfections of his face. Times where both their cheeks were flushed red with exertion, and their laughs were sure to reach the heavens in their cheerful bounciness–though, they were never told to be quiet, never told they were breaking the rules.

Memories of Hanguang-Jun showing them how to hold the rabbits as the sun shone glowing pebbles onto the grass and speckled freckles of light onto their hair and skin. Sizhui wrestling him onto the ground to rub a leaf into his neck, because it was his most ticklish spot, and Jingyi tackling Sizhui to return the favor. Even though Sizhui was taller than him at that point, and could have easily pinned him.

The fleeting feeling of a cool breeze on Gusu’s rare, warm days, the buzzing numbness of their fingers and toes when the trees were barren and snow covered the ground, Hanguang-Jun’s peaceful, thrumming melodies.

By all means, Jingyi probably wasn’t allowed in the back hills, but he was Sizhui’s friend–best friend, really–, so he got special privileges. And with them, he came to love the forest and the memories that swayed with the trees.

But now, trekking through the darkness of Dafan Mountain, unable to see more than seven feet in front of his face, Jingyi did not appreciate the nature he was ever so fond of.

He scoffed as he swung his sword, taking out a large patch of weeds that obscured the way, shaking it as the long vines got caught on the blade. Taking a large step over them, Jingyi sheathed his sword and turned toward Sizhui, who had brandished a lit talisman. The blue light highlighted the sharpness of his features drastically against the shadows.

“The path is getting thinner,” Jingyi voiced, kicking at some vegetation curled around his boot, “and it’s pretty obvious no one has been here in a while,” he paused, holding up his leg with a flourish. Dead weeds hung limply over his foot, “as you can see.”

“That’s true,” Sizhui sighed. He, too, was sidestepping to avoid being tripped, “it’s very odd–I can feel the spirit’s presence, but I cannot get a read on its location. It feels like…the energy is everywhere on the mountain.”

They could all feel the negative energy from the fierce corpse they faced at Mo Manor–its unfortunately familiar cynical and oppressive aura seemed to encase them in its overpowering calamitous ambiance. It gave Jingyi a headache.

“I can’t, either. And…” Jingyi snuck a look to where Hanguang-Jun was striding along in front of him, dropping his voice, “I’m not sure Hanguang-Jun does, either, or else he probably would have led us to it by now.”

“It’s tricky,” Replied Sizhui, holding the talisman out further. The spiritual light flickered, “I can definitely sense the energy, but there’s something else here. It must be strong if it’s partially hiding the fierce spirit we fought, but…I can’t make out if it’s malicious or not. It does not give off anything at all.”

“Oh, you noticed it too, huh? Yeah, it’s pretty weird that–”

Jingyi abruptly cut himself off when a quiet and crisp swish cut through the air. Sizhui and Hanguang-Jun turned toward him in alarm, and he barely caught himself before he cursed. Loudly.

He threw himself backwards, sword in hand, glinting pale silver in the moonlight, just as the ground came up from underneath him. Or, rather, a net that displaced fallen leaves and other vegetation as it shot toward the tree tops. The harsh material barely missed his nose as it closed below a reaching branch, swinging around wildly with the force.

“Gah–!” Jingyi exclaimed, heart pounding wildly, lungs in his throat. When he saw it wasn’t a murderous, fierce arm spirit jumping out of who knows where to sink it’s beefy arm claws into his neck, he let out a breath of relief. His relief, however, quickly turned to anger. He stomped his foot, “another one!? Are you kidding me? Who is putting these up? Spirit nets are expensive! Why are there so many!?”

“Jingyi,” Hanguang-Jun warned, his steps silent as he glided toward them. The Alpha gazed up to the still-swinging net, and in one swing of his arm, Bichen was soaring high. There was no sound as the sword sliced through the rope–just the net falling with a sad thump onto the ground.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, his hand held in front of his chest with two fingers up, and Bichen disappeared in a series of white blurs within his peripheral vision.

The sword reappeared in Hanguang-Jun’s hand a moment later.

“There were more spirit nets around,” the stoic man explained, “I took them out.”

Sizhui bowed to the elder Alpha, and Jingyi cocked his head. Sure, he didn’t necessarily like almost getting taken out by a woven rope net of all things, but…they were expensive, and Jingyi felt a pang of sympathy for whichever rogue cultivator set them up.

“Ah…excuse me for my impertinence, Hanguang-Jun, but… why did you destroy them?”

Hanguang-Jun’s steely eyes met his. Their gold color was dimmed under the dull light, looking to be hollow–like colored glass, “Dangerous.”

Well. That was that.

They continued walking in silence. Jingyi yawned.

Once Hanguang-Jun had once again taken his place up ahead, Jingyi sidled up to Sizhui and nudged him with an elbow. His friend hardly spared him a glance, so he nudged him harder. That time, the Alpha fully faced him, an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

Sizhui’s eyes were distant. That furrow between his eyebrows was back, his mouth set into a grim line. Jingyi fell into pace with him.

“Don’t lie to me, Sizhui, I know you had a laugh from me almost getting taken up by a spirit net,” Jingyi ventured, smiling wolfishly, “seriously! Don’t look at me like that, I know you did. Such a filial friend, you are.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile overtook Sizhui’s features. It was closed lip and tight, but Jingyi took it as a win.

“Ah, you caught me,” Sizhui sighed dramatically, “maybe…just a little bit. Once I knew you weren’t in danger.”

“Hah–! I knew it!” Jingyi exclaimed, wincing when he recognized the volume of his voice. He stole a look at Hanguang-Jun, mentally sighing in relief when he heard no reprimand.

Jingyi quieted, leaning closer into the alpha. Sizhui gave him a curious look.

“I know it’s past our bedtime and we’re out here, in a dark forest, hunting a homicidal fierce spirit that just killed three people and almost killed us–but, you seem like you have something else on your mind. You should tell me! I wouldn’t want you exceedingly distracted, you know. I still have to ace this assignment, even though…it went way off kilter.”

Sizhui blinked, his lips pursing, before he shook his head. That small smile was back, this time, more genuine.

“It’s really nothing, Jingyi. I just…feel guilty over how I treated Young Master Mo. It was unbecoming of me and terribly rude, especially after he…saved my life.”

Despite himself, Jingyi snorted. Seeing Sizhui get immensely angry on his behalf was funny and charming, but, looking back at it, if Sizhui was the one kicked toward him and into the path of a rampaging fierce corpse, he would have been pretty angry too. It wasn’t often, if at all, that Sizhui lost his temper.

“That lunatic had it coming,” Jingyi shrugged, “I would have been pissed–I mean…uh, mad, if he kicked you into a path of fierce corpses. You were really stressed already! I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”

“...Jingyi, I was still in the wrong,” Sizhui sighed.

“You? Wrong? I’m shocked.”

Shaking his head with a rueful grin, Sizhui shook out his sleeves before peering back down at him, “and what about you, A-Ming? You also seem mentally occupied. We can’t have you being terribly distracted. As you said, it is your assignment.”

Rolling his eyes at Sizhui’s teasing, Jingyi fiddled with his collar. Was it that obvious? Sure, his conversation with the Alpha helped, but there was this…this angry corner of his brain that kept whispering the hateful words Madam Mo had spat at him, over and over. The words tumbled into a ball, and kept growing bigger and bigger, until Jingyi was sure his head would burst and all that venom, all that vitriol would come hurtling out in anguished, spasming screams.

He was still stuck on the fact that he couldn’t escape it. That there were countless other Madam Mo’s out there in the world that would sneer at his very existence and talk him down to broken pieces behind his back. Stuck on the fact that despite his skill with a sword, despite his skill with a bow, they’d question his worth because of his omegan status. Stuck on the fact that–

Whatever. It wasn’t a crisis that he could have now, anyway. Not when they had a malicious ghost to catch. He could cry about it later, in his sad excuse for a nest scattered haphazardly on the bed in his dorm.

(There was part of him who knew. Nan Lian had regaled tales of her youth and the harsh words that came with it, of how much of a debilitating viper pit Lanling Jin really was. She advised him to beware, to be ready, to not let the words knock him down because they’ll exist, they’ll always exist, and he should hold his head above it all despite them.

That part was ready to face the world. The other half was the part that hoped it wouldn’t be like that. The half that currently had him swallowing the lump in his throat and clenching his fists.)

“Just the remnants of the conversation we had earlier, Sizhui. Nothing to worry about–stop giving me that look!” Jingyi crossed his arms, pointedly tilting his chin away.

He could feel Sizhui’s eyes on the back of his head, which he made the executive decision to ignore in favor of staring out toward the darkness. Jingyi couldn’t see past the masses of vegetation, for a few feet into the distance, the leaves melded into the shadows.

He really, really hated dark, ominous forests. It might have been a bit better if he didn’t have the knowledge that they were–once again– hunting a murderous, angry, atrociously resentful spirit.

Jingyi closed his eyes. If to distract himself from the shaking of his hands or the rapid pulsing of his heart, he focused on the warm, gentle, molten movement of his spiritual energy. There was calmness, and for a moment, he could breathe easier. That is, until a spark of resentful energy shattered the atmosphere, abrupt. Jingyi swore the smell of ozone burnt his nose.

Sizhu’s scent sparked, and by the time Jingyi looked toward Hanguang-Jun, Bichen was already flying through the air–a silver notch in the shadowed sky that shot like an arrow to the right.

By the time Jingyi’s hand was on his own sword, the man was already gone in an elegant swish of glowing white.

“What was that!? Sizhui–”

Sizhui turned to him, eyes highlighted blue. The talisman he was holding burnt out as he dropped it, sheathing them in a case of dull moonlight.

“Jingyi, let’s go!” His friend ordered, stepping onto his own sword. Jingyi followed without hesitation.

Maybe I should have taken Hanguang-Jun up on the offer to go back to Gusu, Jingyi thought, miserable, am I really needed here?

The first thing Jingyi noticed when they landed was the crackling scent of ozone.

It wasn’t a common scent, and certainly not a natural one. He’d never met any Alpha, Beta, or Omega that had a hint of the acrid fragrance. Jingyi only knew what it was because it was a common smell that emerged after a lightning strike during a storm.

In his classes, Jingyi had learned that ozone also emerges from weapons such as Zidian. Which made sense because, well, lightning.

As Jingyi laid eyes on silky purple, how it suddenly got there made a lot more sense.

He’d never personally laid eyes on Sect Leader Jiang before. The man was infamous around the Sects for two reasons– one, that he had gotten blacklisted from a record number of matchmakers for his renowned, strict taste in women, and for the way he spoke about omegas.

(There was also how he had an extreme, well-known hatred for demonic cultivators. So, three things.)

Hateful, spiteful things. Sect Leader Jiang never held his tongue in expressing his disdain. Most people didn’t believe he was always like this, from the gossip Jingyi overheard in Caiyi town. He and the Yiling Patriarch were raised like kin, and, apparently, the Alpha never hated his Shixiong until he turned to demonic cultivation.

Not until everything that happened at Nightless City.

The Jiang Sect did not have any cultivating omegas. There were rumors that circulated throughout the gossip rings in the city–ones that regaled tales of Sect Leader Jiang outcasting omegas from the clan, and even ones that said he killed them.

Gossip was forbidden, and Jingyi tried not to let the rumors fester in his own mind, but laying eyes on the man for the first time caused an uncomfortable lump to rise in his throat.

Sect Leader Jiang looked as though he was cut from harsh rock. Sharp eyes, jutting cheekbones, a frown that marred the bottom half of his face. There was no gleam in his eye– though, his eyebrows were pulled down, casting a hardness over his shadowed features. Zidian was crackling angrily around his hand, permeating such a strong scent that Jingyi’s eyes burnt.

Hanguang-Jun and Sect Leader Jiang looked to be within a stare off. Over the ozone, Jingyi could barely make out handsome sandalwood.

(Jingyi wasn’t as apt at reading his senior as Sizhui was–his friend seemed to have an entire archive of Hanguang-Jun’s microexpressions he refused to share. He was okay at reading people, though he’d been told multiple times to read the room, and he wasn’t very confident at reading Lan Wangji’s expressions, but the face he was making seemed…bitchy.

There was no other word for it. Just bitchy and very, very unhappy. It was weird.)

He and Sizhui sheathed their swords as they approached. And then–

Mo Xuanyu–!? Jingyi thought, openly staring at where the other omega was standing, what is that lunatic doing here!?

The man looked worse for wear. Pale, silver eyes widened almost comically. Jingyi could make out a subtle quake in his hands. In the muted light of the moon, he looked as white as a ghost. Which…was kind of ironic.

“The Lan Clan prides itself on producing model cultivators,” a higher, bratty voice rang across the clearing, “is breaking other’s things how you teach your disciples!? They destroyed my nets!”

Sizhui’s head snapped over in shock. Jingyi almost did a doubletake.

As much as he’d heard about Sect Leader Jiang, he’d heard half as much as Sect Heir Jin Rulan. Most of them…weren’t good things. Many people took him as a brat, or looked down on him because he had a weak cultivator for a mother. Of course, gossip was forbidden, and Jingyi would never take part in the rampant gossip rings of Caiyi town, but…rumors spread.

He remembered hearing about when Jin Rulan presented. People threw scorn left and right, talking about another Jin Alpha destined to bring the Sect into ruin, or another Jin Alpha to turn into yet another womanizer. From what he gathered, most hoped he’d be a beta like the mellowed Jiang Yanli, which was a strange thing to hope for in a Sect Heir, but he supposed the reign of Jin Guangshen struck resentment into many people.

(The rumors about Jin Ling always made a lump form in his throat. Jingyi knew firsthand what a reputation could do to someone.)

The brat part was definitely true. Jingyi felt a headache coming on just from looking at his haughty scowl.

Now that he knew Young Master Jin was there, the abundance of expensive spirit nets made sense. Only the Jin had enough money to spend on a plethora of costly cultivation items for a singular nighthunt.

How exuberant and ostentatious.

Over the nauseating mingling scents, Jingyi caught a slight whiff of obnoxious peony and juniper. It was an odd scent for an Alpha, but it was nice. However, Jin Ling was purposefully exaggerating it the way most young Alphas did when they wanted to present themselves as tough and naturally dominant, though it normally just made people recoil in disgust. Against the overwhelming fragrance, Jingyi scrunched his nose and lifted his sleeve to cover his face.

Sect Heir Jin Ling’s eyes tracked the movement, and his eyes flashed dangerously. The young Alpha’s body tensed and a frown overtook his delicate features, but, before he could hurl whichever secondhand insult he had on the tip of his tongue, Sizhui, the angel, interrupted.

“Young Master Jin,” he saluted politely, a courteous smile on his lips. It was testament to how much the boy wanted to avoid a diplomatic incident to how he was still able to plaster on a smile, no matter how tight the corner of his lips were, “respectfully, night hunts have always been fair game. And setting up the quantity of nets you chose to could–have hindered other disciples.”

Jin Ling’s ire turned to Sizhui. The boy certainly had an impressive scowl. He pointed a finger at his friend, but Sizhui’s placid expression gave nothing away. It was admirable.

“So what!? They got caught, how is that my problem!? If they’re cultivators allowed to be on this nighthunt, then they’d better have the skill to avoid setting off the wards,” Jin Ling crossed his arms petulantly, “and if they can’t, then it’s better they’re trapped that left free to run around and bring everyone else down!”

Jingyi’s eye twitched. The Alpha was seriously grating on his nerves.

Sizhui closed his eyes for a second, mouth opened and prepared to argue back when–

“Sect Leader Jiang, sir! Sect Leader Jiang!”

A purple clad beta came crashing in through the trees, panting heavily. The poor guy’s eyes widened until the whites shone starkly in the dark as he caught sight of Hanguang-Jun. Their superior must have given him a pretty mean glare, because the disciple turned to Jiang Wanyin hurriedly and saluted, avoiding any sort of eye-contact with Lan Wangji.

Sect Leader Jiang rolled his eyes to the high heavens and barked, “what? What is it now? Speak!”

“A-Ah…” the beta hesitated, darting a telling glance toward Hanguang-Jun, “well…just now, a blue and silver sword just destroyed the remaining nets set for the young master.”

If possible, Sect Leader Jiang’s eyes grew colder, and Jin Ling squawked angrily. The two senior Alphas held each other's unfaltering gazes. Without looking away, Jiang Wanyin gritted, “how many.”

Their scents battled for dominance in the air. Jingyi observed their tense staring contest in a trance-like state, shivering. Sizhui didn’t seem like he was doing any better–not with the way his eyes darted between the two uneasily.

The Beta looked down at the ground. He cleared his throat, “All…all of them, sir…”

As the beta uttered their final damnation, the air was sucked out of the forest. Jingyi felt like he couldn’t breathe as three angry alpha scents clashed and clawed at each other midair. Zidian crackled alarmingly, its sparks lighting up the clearing in furious purple, and a cool breeze blew by.

All too suddenly, Jingyi felt naked under the unfiltered night sky. Without his outer robe, surrounded by unfamiliar scents, knowing that there was a homicidal ghost somewhere out there and could strike now, later, whenever.

Sizhui stepped closer to him, eyes wide.

Jingyi's eyes tracked Jiang Wanyin’s as he twisted the ring around his finger. Purple energy sizzled behind the man’s eyes, making the hair on the back of Jingyi’s neck stand up. The wind increased, and as the scent of ozone almost doubled, Hanguang-Jun grasped the handle of Bichen and pushed it down.

A sliver of the blade poked out, and Jingyi felt vaguely sick.

Were they really about to see a brawl between a Sect Leader and one of the most renowned cultivators of their current generation? Would Jiang Wanyin rip out Zidian and strike? Was Jin Ling going to attack them for destroying his nets?

One glance at Young Master Jin revealed the Alpha was feeling as unsure as they were, brown eyes wide and confused. Even so, he put his hand on the sword handle on his hip.

“Behave!” Sect Leader Jiang growled. It sent a shiver up Jingyi’s spine. Jin Ling, obediently, sank back into a stiff, crossed-armed stance, scoffing.

“Did I say draw your sword, Jin Ling?” Sect Leader Jiang continued, eyes narrowed.

Now Jingyi thought a fight would break out between Uncle and Nephew- and boy, wouldn’t that be interesting– but then, Sizhui stepped up in between the two Alpha powerhouses, bowing as deep as an Alpha salute would allow him to.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” his friend said. Jingyi found it commendable that his voice didn’t shake, “on behalf of the Lan Clan, we will reimburse you for the nets. No need to worry.”

Sizhui had always been a beacon standing tall above the rest. A shining light that radiated luminescence brighter than the very sun. Graceful and amazing, with a kind smile and infallible courage, Jingyi thought he looked like a savior in that moment. Despite the unkemptness of his robes, and the absence of an outer one, he looked graceful and strong. His face gave away nothing, not even as he and Sect Leader Jiang stared at each other.

The breath was stolen from Jingyi’s lungs.

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes narrowed into slits, not unlike a displeased snake. For a moment, Jingyi thought he would strike, that Zidian would emerge like a viper, curling out from the ring and crepitating across the clearing.

But then, the wind stopped, and everything came to a steady head.

“No need,” Sect Leader Jiang said, staring at Sizhui with harsh indifference. He turned, and in what is the epitome of rudeness between high standing cultivators, put his back to them.

“Jin Ling! Why is it you’re still standing here uselessly!? Are you waiting for prey to waltz in and impale itself on your blade? Move!” He demanded. Jin Ling snapped to attention, eyes wide, “and if you can’t find anything good, don’t even bother coming back at all!”

Jingyi winced when Jin Ling’s face fell, but breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Sect Leader Jiang began to walk away.

“Wait,” Hanguang-Jun called. His eyes burnt molten gold, and Sect Leader Jiang stopped, “there is an unusual spirit that is currently inhabiting Dafan Mountain. Not far from here, at Mo Manor, it manifested, and was able to kill three people in less than half an hour. Through our carelessness, it has escaped. Take caution.”

Jingyi was stuck on the way he said ‘our carelessness’, as if Hanguang-Jun couldn’t have apprehended it if they weren’t in the way.

Sect Leader Jiang barked out a cruel laugh, “Hah! So fierce even the venerable Hanguang-Jun couldn’t vanquish it? Has your seclusion lessened your power, Lan Wangji?”

“It has nothing to do with him!” Jingyi exclaimed hotly. Fury simmered low in his belly, “if it weren’t for us, then he–!”

“Do not waste your breath,” Hanguang-Jun replied coolly. He directed his gaze back to the purple clad Alpha, who was staring at them with renewed anger, “Sect Leader Jiang, if you come across it, alert me immediately.”

The leader didn’t reply. Instead, his gaze was on Jingyi. It made cold sweat freeze on his back, a strange feeling flooding his veins. He’d grown used to being stared at, and had reasoned with himself to ignore them. Jingyi was so used to paying wandering eyes no mind that he barely felt the sting of disgust or curiousity anymore. But the way Sect Leader Jiang stared at him had frigid fear dripping down his spine.

“Lan Wangji,” the man said slowly, not taking his eyes off of Jingyi and his collar, “I would have thought you learned your lesson about dragging omegas into danger. But, I suppose, you’re just so great you can do whatever you want? Or am I wrong? Without an outer robe, no less. Has the Lan Clan really become so shameless?”

That had Hanguang-Jun frowning. He covertly stepped up, putting a physical barrier in between Jingyi and Sect Leader Jiang. His eyes could cut steel.

Jingyi’s nails bit into his palms.

It was one thing to be talked down on by nameless citizens at Caiyi town. It was another to be degraded by Madam Mo.

It was entirely another realm in being talked down by a Sect Leader. Like he was something disgusting, shameless, a stain on the bottom of a boot.

“Lan Jingyi is a cultivator of the Lan Clan,” Hanguang-Jun replied, “Sect Leader Jiang, I would be careful with what you say.”

Sect Leader Jiang turned his head to the sky and scoffed bitterly. The shadow from the trees obscured his expression.

“You watch what you say, Lan Wangji. I rank higher than you. We are not in Gusu, I do not have to abide by your rules,” He replied. Jiang Wanyin spat his words with such vitriol it rendered even Jingyi into fearful, chastised stillness. There was a beat of tense silence before he continued. Those dulled eyes were on him again, and Jingyi breathed out as Jiang Wanyin stared.

It was as though a thousand different, dark emotions passed through the dull glaze over his violet eyes. Like shadows dashing their way through flowing drapes–Jingyi could not read a single one.

Jiang Wanyin’s gaze did not leave his face,“You must think you’re so great, Lan Wangji.”

And with that, Sect Leader Jiang was gone.

He soundlessly disappeared into the vegetation, purple melding into black with the brief swish of a robe. With him, he took the scent of ozone and thunder clouds. An odd, uncomfortable laugh bubbled in Jingyi’s throat–he swallowed it down. It was as though the Alpha took a storm with him, because as soon as he was out of sight, the weary lines of tension suspending their shoulders snapped.

Sandalwood burnt the air.

(Vaguely, Jingyi registered Jin Ling angrily tearing out of the clearing with the furiousness of an angered donkey, in a different direction than his uncle. The boy was gone in an instant, a slash of gold in the dusky forest –the only thing left in his wake was the faint scent of juniper.)

Jingyi put a shaking hand on his chin, momentarily getting lost in thought. What was that about? Why was the Jiang Sect night-hunting in such a secluded, oddly situated place like this? With Sect Heir Jin, nonetheless. Well, it wouldn’t odd for the two to be together, considering Jin Rulan spent half the year at Lotus Pier, but–

A large hand landed softly on his shoulder, and Jingyi practically jumped out of his skin.

Whirling around, heart beating rampantly against his ribs, his shoulders slumped when he saw Sizhui. He hadn’t heard him approach. His friend looked remorseful at his fear and pulled his hand away, eyes wide and honest.

Jingyi hated when he did that dumb kicked-puppy look. It was so endearingly effective.

“Don’t scare me like that–Jeez! Warn a guy!” Jingyi shrieked, swatting at Sizhui, who danced out of his way guiltily, “you’re so quiet, Sizhui.”

The Alpha grinned. It was tense and apologetic, tight at the corners and stretched thin across his lips, which were red with nervousness-induced bites. Which, odd, Jingyi thought he had grown out of that habit. Sizhui failed to answer him–instead his eyes were locked on something else.

Huffing, he turned his gaze in the general direction of Lan Sizhui’s attention.

Hanguang-Jun was standing in the same spot he had been during the confrontation with the Sect Leader, shoulders pulled up imperceptibly, a hand still on his sword. Their senior’s eyes were shut.

Jingyi blinked, fists clenching. It was disquieting, the way Hanguang-Jun was acting–he had known the man as someone who was constantly infallible, cool and as smooth as jade. Unbothered.

It seemed as though even Hanguang-Jun wasn’t unaffected by the power of words.

(If he were being honest, it made him feel less alone.)

Jingyi sighed, tugging at A-Yuan’s sleeve. His friend’s lost eyes snapped to his,“we need to keep looking for the spirit.”

“Yes, I–”, Sizhui began, voice breaking. He was still looking at Hanguang-Jun. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly. All at once, the fight dropped out of him, like a cord released of tension. His body drooped and molded into what was probably the most improper posture Jingyi had ever seen on Sizhui–and it was weird! His Sizhui never slumped like that–he was always the one telling Jingyi he was going to destroy his back when he did it!

A-Yuan nodded slowly, “...sorry, Jingyi. You’re right. It…looks like we will be on our own. I’m not sure A-Die…I think my father will want some alone time.”

“Sizhui…” Jingyi murmured, stepping closer, “hey. What’s wrong? You smell…anxious.”

It made Jingyi’s own scent spark with anxiety, smelling the sudden, heightened tartness of his aroma. That made Jingyi wrinkle his nose–the way Sizhui’s emotions affected his own. He wanted to comfort him–and don’t get him wrong, he would! Sizhui was his friend, or course he would–but he knew the immediate, primal need to comfort was an omega thing.

So he hated it a bit at that moment.

Immediately, the sourness in Sizhui’s scent dissipated. Jingyi knew it was a guilty, conscious effort, and frowned.

“No, I just–I…almost never see him like that. Only…only once or twice, when I was a pup. It…scares me,” Sizhui said, fingers shaking.

Jingyi’s entire body twitched, and after a moment of hesitation, Jingyi placed a hand over Sizhui’s, gently pressing down onto his quivering fingers until he could clutch the appendages in his hands. Sizhui squeezed harshly, knuckles turning white, before releasing his grip. Jingyi rubbed his thumb across the back of his hand, stroking back and forth across his knuckles, down the winding veins on the back of his hand, around his folded fingers.

“I’m sure the stuff Sect Leader Jiang was saying got to him a bit. And, you know Hanguang-Jun, he’s so proper, he’s probably composing himself so he doesn’t explode. What a gentleman, you know!” Jingyi said, forcing a chipper tone. Sizhui’s breath stuttered, and he nodded.

Slowly, with one last squeeze, their hands pulled apart. Jingyi let his fall limply to his sides.

“You’re right, ah…thank you, A-Ming. I’m sorry,” Sizhui said.

“What for, moron!?”

“A..ah…for freaking out on you. It was inappropriate of me, especially in the predicament we are currently in,” Sizhui replied, like what he said made total sense. Jingyi’s eye twitched–why was he friends with an idiot?

Jingyi was about to reply–he had quite a few things he could say, starting with “you have nothing to apologize for” and ending with “that’s your definition of a freakout!?”, when Hanguang-Jun miraculously appeared in front of them. Like a Ghost.

Jingyi almost screamed. He would deny that until the day he died.

“A-Die!” A-Yuan breathed, doing a little shuffle toward his father. That was how Jingyi knew the Alpha was really close to completely losing it–he started reverting to that.

“A-Yuan,” Hanguang-Jun returned steadily. The two had a silent conversation–Lan Wangji nodded serenely, and so much relief visibly flooded Sizhui Jingyi was afraid he would burst like an over-filled, happy flesh balloon. Whatever they communicated, Jingyi wasn’t privy to–and he decided it was too much work to figure out or ask.

“I apologize for my behavior, A-Yuan, A-Ming,” He said. Jingyi flushed pleasantly at the fond use of his birth name, “it was unacceptable of me to lose my control as you witnessed.”

“Not to worry, Hanguang-Jun!” Jingyi shouted, too loud for the quietness of the clearing. He winced, “we’re just glad you’re alright and that you didn’t attack–uhm. Yeah! We’re really glad you’re alright!”

Lan Jingyi–insert foot in mouth.

He bounced on the balls of his feet nervously, as Hanguang-Jun surveyed him.

“Mn,” the man finally said, “Thank you. I am.”

The man stepped away and took something from his Qiankun pouch. Jingyi peered out from Sizhui to see what they were.

A Flare.

He handed it to Sizhui, who bowed and carefully stashed it away with a brisk whoosh of his hand. Since they didn’t have their outer robes, they didn’t have their qiankun pouches–which were embedded into the sleeves, “mn. We will be going separate ways for now, I believe we will cover more ground that way. If you are to come in contact with the spirit, do not engage. Send off the flare, and I will come to your location. Be safe.”

They bowed in succession–Jingyi at the waist, Sizhui at the chin.

“We’ll make you proud, Hanguang-Jun!”

Sizhui stayed back a few paces, watching the back of his father get further and further away, gnawing at his lower lip.

“Ah–Wait!”

Sizhui ran back to where a black clad figure was standing near the beginning of the tree line, face obscured, head turned toward Lan Wangji.

Jingyi blinked. Once, twice, before outrage and confusion took over–why was Mo Xuanyu still there!? Didn’t he not leave when he saw that a battle between two Alpha powerhouses was going to unfold!? If Jingyi wanted to throw himself on the ground in submission from the pheromones they were producing, then what was Mo Xuanyu feeling? The man wasn’t a cultivator!

“Young Master Mo,” Sizhui bowed to him. From where he was standing, Jingyi could not make out his shrouded expression, “this one apologizes for his behavior at Mo Manor! It was improper of me to lose my temper in the moment and to take it out on you. I assure you, I will be accepting and receiving proper punishment when we return to Gusu. Ah–and, thank you for your help at Mo Manor, and for saving me.”

“Oh-hoh, so that’s what this is! Aiya, aiya, silly boy! No need for apologies, I did kick your little omega friend. I would have been more concerned if you didn’t snap at my throat!”

Jingyi rolled his eyes, deciding he’d heard enough, and pushed through a thrush of thick branches to get back on the path. He petulantly kicked dirt as he walked, hands on his hips, causing large, misty tufts of dust to curl and dissipate into the air. The particles shone like little, miniscule, lightless fireflies in the slim beams of moonlight.

A few steps down, a flash of gold caught his eye. Confused, he continued onward, rounding a infested pile of weeds.

A cloud shifted above them, and in an all too sudden reveal, white light flooded the forest as the full beauty of the moon shone down–and with it, cast a glow over a previously shadowed face.

With the light brought an extreme annoyance.

“What are you still doing here!?”

Back when they had first presented, and Jingyi was still outwardly bitter about his non-alpha status and showed it, most of their classmates had gained that superiority complex that usually came with presentations. Especially in a clan of mostly Alphas, like Gusu. Of course, it was against the rules to show any bias or superiority based on secondary gender, and the Cloud Recesses was very efficient at stomping out the seeds of Alpha supremacy or whatever–it didn’t mean there wasn’t any bragging or gloating.

Jingyi remembered hearing newly presented Alphas brag to their beta friends about being one–essentially putting themselves out as cooler and better because they had a knot. Anyone who was overheard got a fun punishment of copying the rules on professional conduct.

Sizhui never had to, because Sizhui never thought of himself as better because he had a genetically bigger dick than anyone else, and he was Perfect.

It was with non-cultivators, ones in dull, civilian robes that took secondary gender superiority to another level.

That was just society, he supposed.

When he was tiny, young, and constantly drinking vinegar, he had asked himself with sad exasperation why every self centered, annoying asshole got to be an Alpha but he didn’t. It was just unfair.

Normally, he would push that thought out of his mind because Sizhui wasn’t and had never been any of those things. So, because of his excellent influence, Jingyi figured he shouldn’t think of every Alpha as the same, and push the societal stigma out of his mind, because not every Alpha was like that.

However, as there was for everything, there was always an exception to that line of thinking–and Sect Heir Jin Rulan was on a noble quest to prove him wrong.

At that point, as anger brewed white-hot inside his body, Jingyi was willing to think Sizhui was just a weird hybrid that was just a figment of his imagination and nothing was real, because Jin Ling was proving his hypothesis that all Alphas were awful to be true.

“What am I still doing here! Who are you to ask me about it? You’re a cultivator, aren’t you, can’t you see I’m night-hunting? Tsk,” the boy spat, scowling. His arms were crossed over the peony emblem on his chest, creasing the fabric.

Now under clear, unfiltered light, Jingyi could get a better look at the young Alpha than he could back in the clearing, where everything was dim and hard to make out. He wasn’t matured, that was still evident from his scent. Jin Ling had long legs and lanky arms, limbs he seemed to still be growing into–Jingyi didn’t doubt that underneath his robes, his joints were knobby. His features were sharp–high cheekbones, but a rounded chin. For being half-Jiang, the boy’s skin was pale and delicate looking, which made the rich-brown color of his eyebrows and hair stand out more. His eyes detailed so much expression Jingyi didn’t have to see the deep, wrinkling frown on his face to read the hostility written into his pupils.

“Don’t tsk at me,” Jingyi returned, mimicking his cross-armed stance absent-mindedly, “of course I can see that you’re night-hunting! I’m not stupid. I meant–why are you still here and not long gone trying to hunt down a ghost so your uncle lets you return tonight.”

Jin Ling’s face flushed red to the roots of his hair, almost the same shade as the vermillion mark painted between his brows. It was oddly satisfying.

“So what, I'm still here, you–! What, is there some rule that I have to be in a certain area to hunt? First you destroy all my nets, now you’re trying to control where I go! You Gusu Lan cultivators are really so rule-obsessed…”

Jingyi reached up and tugged at his collar, huffing. He couldn’t yell at a Sect Heir, that would just cause even more trouble…

He noticed Jin Ling following his hand, and watched as his face flushed brighter at the sight of his collar. The Alpha stumbled back a step, arms outstretched in front of his face.

“What!?” Jingyi snapped.

The scowl returned full force, “nothing! Just–leave me alone, go away! Stop following me.”

Behind him, the bushes ruffled, and through the leaves Sizhui stepped through, eyes wide and curious. He stopped when he saw both of them. What a sight they must’ve made, really.

“Ah…Jingyi, what’s going on? Oh! Sect Heir Jin Ling, I apologize, I didn’t see you,” Sizhui greeted pleasantly, bowing. Jin Ling did not return the gesture.

Jingyi glowered.

“Nothing, Sizhui,” Jingyi bit, “just a minor inconvenience on my behalf.”

Jin Ling rolled his eyes so hard Sizhui looked vaguely concerned–unprompted, if you asked Jingyi. The Alpha’s eyes could snap off their tendons and bounce off the floor for all he cared. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised, considering the amount of times he had rolled them in the five minutes they were standing there.

“Tsk. Whatever. I am going to go hunt the spirit. And, you know, maybe if my nets were still around, they could have helped you catch the fierce ghost you’re looking for. Too bad you destroyed them all.”

As Jin Ling stalked off, Jingyi watched his figure disappear. He pinched his temple.

“Jeez, how come every self-centered brat in existence gets to be an alpha!? That damn…damn…young mistress!”

Sizhui gave him a look that was infinitely tired, “...You’re not.”

Jingyi elbowed him in the side. His friend did not try to move out of the way.

“Just my luck, running into you two. Out of every clan…” Jin Ling grumbled unhappily, shouldering his way forward. He walked with an overexaggerated swagger that made Jingyi feel equal amounts of pity and disgust.

He mimed a gagging motion, and Sizhui narrowed his eyes at him. The message was clear, Jingyi, stop that, now.

Jingyi, decidedly, did not.

“Dafan mountain isn’t your home! Just like you, we can be anywhere here, too! And we’re not even following you, we’re just going in the same direction! Have you never walked with other people before!?”

Behind him, Sizhui let out a long-suffering sigh.

Jin Ling’s scent spiked. Really, the Alpha was easy to read–he didn’t have a good handle on his scent at all.

He whirled around, a hand on his sword, “of course I have! I’m a Sect Heir! What are you insinuating!?”

“I’m insinuating that you seem like more of a young mistress than a young master! I mean, are you always this bratty?”

For a fleeting, satisfying moment, he looked totally dumbfounded, mouth falling into the shape of an ‘o’. Then, slowly, redness overtook his face, his brows furrowed, and the boy’s scent sparked so rapidly Jingyi reeled back.

“You–how dare you speak to me as such! Who–who even are you, you mouthy omega!?”

Jingyi clenched his fists, pointing angrily at Jin Rulan. He felt as though he was at his wits end. Every time, every single time he met someone, talked to someone new, his secondary gender was brought up. After everything at Mo Manor, Jingyi was fed up.

Frustrated tears stung his eyes. He didn’t give the satisfaction of letting them fall.

(The satisfaction to who, he didn’t know. Jin Ling, maybe, the people at Mo Manor, possibly. Society, everyone who ever sneered at him, looked down on him–

Bitterly, Jingyi had hoped that this time would be different. That someone his age wouldn’t care about his status, his scent, his collar– but maybe Nan Laoshi was right about Lanling Jin.)

“My name is Lan Jingyi, young mistress, if you can find it within your selfishly bratty self to care–!”

They had both drawn closer to each other, as if pulled by an invisible tether. The gold clad alpha crossed his arms tightly over his chest, scowl falling deeper. He hesitated, face falling, and Jingyi glowered at him, eyes narrowed. It was refreshing, for once, to not be towered over by someone his age. Jin Ling was barely taller than him.

“Enough,” Sizhui said, words clipped. His eyes snapped to Jingyi’s first, and the omega found himself shrinking into himself guiltily, before turning their ire onto Jin Ling, who just seemed to get even angrier, “both of you. We each have a mission to complete.”

Jin Ling shouldered Jingyi out of the way–not on purpose, if the wide-eyed glance he shot back was any indication– and stomped up toward Sizhui.

For a split second, Jingyi panicked, thinking, god, was he going to start a fight with A-Yuan?

“And who the hell are you, dumb Alpha, to tell me that?!” Jin Ling yelled. He sent a glance back to Jingyi, who was thoroughly confused.

Jingyi blinked, flabbergasted. Did he just not spit omega like it was something disgusting? Jin Rulan said Alpha in the same tone.

It seemed like Jin Ling didn’t think lowly of just omegas. Jingyi was beginning to think he just hated everyone equally. He…wouldn’t be surprised, actually.

Some of his anger melted away at that notion. It was…honestly kind of funny, if you thought about it.

After a moment of tense silence, before Sizhui could gather himself enough to speak, Jin Ling scoffed and turned his head away. The way he held his chin up, like he was above everyone else, really pissed Jingyi off.

“Hmph. For disciples of the famed Gusu lan, I didn’t think a Sect that prides itself on its righteousness promises omegas to Alphas before they’re even matured. And you still think so highly of yourselves, don’t you!?”

In an instant, Sizhui’s expression had darkened. His eyes shadowed, his jaw tightened, and his adams apple bobbed in his throat. His features screamed anger, danger. The Alpha looked pissed– he had gone from neutral and obligatorily polite to a countenance of unadulterated rage.

Promises omegas to…huh?

Wait.

In the back of his mind, he heard Nan Laoshi’s acrid voice from a lecture she had taught not long ago. She had seemed angier that day, and the lines in her face deepened with fury the more she had spoken.

The act of promising omegas wasn’t present in the main clans anymore, but it was a practice in Qishan Wen. It wasn’t…outlawed–which, Jingyi suspected that was one of the reasons of Nan laoshi’s vexation with the topic– per se, but it wasn’t necessarily a welcomed practice. When an omega presents within a clan, or even a pack, the head Alphas got to choose who that omega would end up marrying. There’s no consent on either the omega’s part or the person they would marry. When the omega was promised, they were owned by their significant other. Matured or not.

And for Jin Ling to suggest that Gusu Lan practiced that heinous, disgusting act was inexcusable.

Jingyi, despite what people thought, was self aware. He knew he had a temper, knew why his name was whispered with “unlan”, and for once, he felt his resentment bubble to a boiling point, and… let himself explode.

The hilt of his sword felt like home on his palm. The shriek of metal as he unsheathed it was calmingly familiar. Jingyi could feel his heartbeat pulse in his fingertips, and he welcomed it.

“Young mistress Jin,” he spat, sword glinting as he held it out, “how dare you disrespect our clan to our faces! Have you no shame!? Gusu Lan is righteous, more than your viper pit of a clan could ever hope to be, now take your words back before I make you!”

Jin Ling whirled around. His eyes widened when he saw Jingyi’s blade, but in a split second, that look faded into the scowl that was ever-present on his young face. A flash of gold arched through the air, glinting like the finest jewelry, and before he knew it, their blades were pointed at each other.

“How dare I–!? How dare you insult my clan, Lan Jingyi!”

Jingyi, regretfully, struck first.

There was a rule against starting fights, but here he was.

(Sizhui looked really, really disappointed. He should be getting paid for this, honestly.)

The Lanling Jin sword style was just as pretentious and exaggerated as the gold they wore on their uniforms.

Unlike the beauty of Gusu’s style, where they had melded practicality and gracefulness together, the Jin techniques focused more on showiness– with large, overemphasized steps, wide strikes of the blade, flips and maneuvers that only the most pompous would pull off in a fight.

Jin Ling was exactly that–but his strikes were different.

Jingyi couldn’t speak much on the other style, but there was something about the way he stepped in to deliver the blows that was harsh and carried more strength than his clumsy swordswork portrayed.

With each attack, each strike, Jingyi felt it reverberate through his bones. And it was exhilarating. Through his blinding anger, there was delight–he couldn’t resist a good fight.

They attacked each other with vigor, only stopping once when Jin Ling’s sword was digging into his own as he blocked, pushing and pinning him. Their swords danced a waltz of blue and gold as metal met metal. Block after block, blow after blow, they connected at the tips of their blades.

Jin Ling’s sword came down lightning fast, barely passing Jingyi’s face as he threw himself out of the way. The Alpha threw all his strength into one strike, and his sword hit the grass, body off balanced.

Seeing an opening, Jingyi grinned ruefully, feet scraping and tearing against the grass. He pushed off the ground, leaping high into the air, twisting as the wind brushed his face and cut through his robes. As he flew over Jin Ling, he saw the boy straighten up–but he wasn’t quick enough.

Jingyi’s foot came into contact with his soft back, heel knocking against the protruding vertebrae of his spine. With an undignified squawk, the heir was flying forward, arms scrambling for purchase as he disappeared into the darkness of a–

–cave.

Jingyi just kicked the future Sect Leader of Lanling Jin into a dark, mysterious, ominous cave.

His blood went cold, righteous fury burning out. It felt as though a bucket of water had been dumped over him, forcing him to come back to his senses.

“Fuck,” Jingyi said, eloquently.

“Jingyi…” Sizhui hissed lowly.

“I know, I know,” Jingyi shrieked, bringing his hands to his head. He dragged his fingers down his face, grappling at his cheeks, “I didn’t mean to–sure, I kicked him, but he did that to himself! He should’ve been able to catch himself! I didn’t do it on purpose– Sizhui–!! Please believe me!”

Sizhui’s eyes were so wide the whites of them glowed in the darkness. He was looking at him like he grew several heads.

“Jingyi, you just kicked Sect Heir Jin down a cave!”

Jingyi wailed, “I didn’t mean too!”

Sizhui pressed his fingers to his temples, sighing. He looked seconds from a mental breakdown. Jingyi instantly felt guilty.

“Hey,” he called, “Jin Ling! Are you okay!?”

No noise came from the shadowed entrance of the cave. Nothing but the sound of the wind.

Jingyi felt a shiver go up his spine. Did he…did he kill Jin Ling!? No–he didn’t kick him that hard, right?

“Jingyi,” Sizhui breathed, a hand pinching his nose, “we have to go get him.”

Jingyi glanced toward the cavern and thought, I would rather die.

“Yeah,” he cried, shoulders slumping, “I know. But uhm…can you go first?”

The dry look his friend gave him would have made him cry-laugh if he hadn’t just kicked Jin Ling into a cave.

Sizhui made Jingyi lead the way.

Not for the omega’s lack of trying–he pleaded for a solid minute, but Sizhui just stood there, resolutely holding out a light talisman for Jingyi to ignite, unimpressed. So, despite his badgering, he was the one leading them deeper into the cavern.

“Young Master Jin!” Sizhui called, his voice echoing off the deep crevices embedded into the walls of the cave. There was no response. The wrinkle between his brows grew deeper.

The talisman did not light up much. Just enough for them to see where they were walking, the blue light casting pools of illumination across the smooth ground. Jingyi held it up higher, tracing the light across a hanging cluster of stalactites. He frowned–from what he gathered, the cave was…large, for lack of a better word. The ceiling fluctuated between sizes, sometimes dipping low–close to the ground. Other times, no matter how high he held the talisman, he couldn’t find a single hint of the top of the cave.

Jingyi’s foot splashed in a puddle, and he jumped out of his skin, biting the sides of his cheeks to keep himself from letting out a very embarrassing yelp.

Why did you have me go in first, A-Yuan!? He mentally wailed, slumping down as he shuffled forward, you’re so cruel!

Other than Sizhui’s occasional call for the young master, there weren’t any other sounds besides the infrequent drops of water reverberating ominously across the walls.

Drip, drip, drip–

It was so menacing! Jingyi didn’t sign up for that! It was infinitely scarier than fighting out in the open at Mo Manor, when there were actual lanterns lighting up the courtyard–! Well, before they went out, that is.

He didn’t know what was in this cave. What if they were being stalked by a bunch of spirits, peering at them from behind boulders, waiting for a chance to strike!?

Jingyi whimpered, it was awful to think about.

He stepped into another puddle, and blinked. Distorted by the rippling water, there was something written on the ground. It was painted in white, and looked less like words than a design. The light didn’t reveal much, but the drawings stretched for a while, curving in a circular arch until they disappeared into the shadows.

Sizhui’s scent got closer. He felt him before he saw him, the warmth of his body pressing into the right side of his own, molding against his shoulder. Jingyi stiffened, face reddening, as Sizhui peered over his body to look down at what he found.

After a few seconds, the Alpha’s eyes lit up, “Ah! Jingyi, this must be where the Dafan villagers give their offerings.”

Jingyi held the talisman out to the other direction. It caught on a brass bowl, old and worn, with melted wax caked in lines on the side. There were a mush of candles inside it, looking more like a bubbled mess of a cake, with a single wick on top.

There were other candles too, ones that stood taller, others obviously worn down into stubs. Old pottery, broken remnants of old jewelry, and paint that was barely legible.

“So…” Jingyi said dumbly, “this is a…temple? I wonder what god they are worshiping…and why is it so run down? And in a cave? Sizhui, this is a really weird place to worship a…”

He trailed off, gaze turning to Sizhui, who was looking up with something of a stupefied expression, mouth loose and agape, eyebrows up and eyes confusedly awed. His lips moved soundlessly, no words emerging.

Swallowing, Jingyi apprehensively looking to where the Alpha was gazing, flabbergasted. As he lifted the talisman, he found that he, too, was stunned.

Above them stood what looked to be some sort of deity statue, so tall that the luminosity of the talisman couldn’t reveal more than its lower body. The flames flickered with the cool, cave breeze, and so did the image of the stone. It looked to be suspended in animation, such a beautiful specimen in its crafted layers of robes, blowing in imaginary wind. Decorish jewelry dangled from what they could see of its outreached hands.

It was clear to them that this was a statue of a Goddess.

“Or…goddess, I should say,” he finished awkwardly.

They both stood there, astonished, when there was a scuffle.

It wasn’t the sound of an animal, or the wind, it was undoubtedly and fearfully human.

Jingyi’s heart rose to his throat in a matter of seconds, and through the ball of fear bursting against his airways, he whirled around and yelled, “who’s there!?”

The flames of the talisman flickered and revealed– eyes.

Abandoning any and all propriety, Jingyi screamed.

In his haste to get away, he grappled for Sizhui, grabbing the sleeve of his robes and pulling him forward as he swung around to hide behind his body. The talisman fell to the floor, the flames extinuishing in one, damning hiss, sheathing them in a sudden swath of complete and utter darkness.

Jingyi pressed himself behind Sizhui, shaking, his face crammed into the clothed crevice of his friend’s back, hands gripping the fabric of his robes.

Then–gold.

“Hmph! What a bunch of cowards.”

Jingyi peeked out from behind Sizhui. His eyes widened, face flushing as he quickly relinquished his grip on the Alpha’s robes, shimming out from behind him and towards Jin Ling in an attempt to seem dignified. Like he hadn’t just buried himself behind his friend after being jump scared by a brat.

Sizhui had lit a talisman–that one was illuminated gold, rather than blue. He must’ve sent it around the interior of the temple, because all of the candles had been lit, their mini flames lighting up almost the entirety of the room. They were everywhere–clusters of crafted wax in sporadic corners around the goddess statue.

Now that they could see the whole thing, Jingyi realized that the goddess statue had not one, but two pairs of arms.

(Which, honestly, was so cool.)

In the golden light, she looked even more majestic–captured perfectly in movement, as though she was turned to stone in the middle of a dance. Her silks flew out behind her, hair tied in a perfect bun. Her eyes were closed, face betraying nothing.

She looked to be standing atop a lotus flower. How ironic.

“And what of you,” Jingyi grumbled back, when his heart rate returned to normal, “pretending to be a ghost? How childish of you, young mistress.”

Jin Ling’s face did that thing again–his nose screwed up as his skin went red. He hesitated, sniffing the air, and frowning before crossing his arms.

His faces were really so expressive.

“And you’re afraid of ghosts!” Jin Ling said, haughtily, placing his hands on his hips. They were almost the same height, but he still lifted his chin up to look down on him, “you’re the childish one.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jingyi spat, rolling his eyes, “I’m the childish one, even though you were waiting here in the dark, ignoring us calling for you, like a weird creep!”

Jin Ling’s cheeks got darker and darker until his flush matched the deep red of his vermillion mark, “That–I– I didn’t hear you! I’m not a creep, I was looking around. Searching for a spirit, you know, what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“I do. I think you’re a very, very creepy alpha. What would your uncle say if he found out you were quietly watching an omega through the shadows? And– searching for a spirit is what we would have been doing if you didn’t fall down a cave,” Jingyi said, smirking.

“You–!! I said I wasn’t–you’re delusional, Lan Jingyi! And you’re the one who kicked me down here!”

“Well–!”

“Jingyi, Young Master Jin, “Sizhui interrupted. Jingyi’s attention snapped to him, because his voice sounded…off. Breathy– not like the commanding, sure tone he usually adapted, “I…I think the statue’s eyes just moved.”

“What!?” Jin Ling exclaimed, stiffening. His voice climbed multiple octaves, “you…you stupid alpha, do you really think anyone is going to believe that!?”

Jingyi bit his cheeks to keep in a whimper. When he turned to look at Sizhui’s face, he saw that his friend’s expression was grim. Lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed so low that multiple frown lines appeared on his skin–Jingyi didn’t like that look, because he knew that Sizhui wouldn’t joke about something like that in such a dire circumstance. Of course, the alpha was a covert little shit sometimes and definitely had the capacity, but not now.

“But…that’s…that’s impossible, Sizhui. The statue’s eyes were closed when we came in…remember?” Jingyi piped up meekly, voice high, fiddling with his collar, “didn’t you see it?”

“Y..yeah!” Jin Ling agreed, hands finding their way back to his hips, “the statue’s eyes were closed! Hah! You can’t fool us with your fear mongering, Lan Sizhui!”

“Awwww, were you scared?” Jingyi sidled up to Jin Ling, voice shaking.

“Of course not!” Jin Ling shouted, scent souring and he scrambled a few steps backwards, “why don’t you ask your alpha!? The guy who's saying stuff to make us scared, like…like he could!”

“Oh, for the last time, Sizhui isn’t my–!”

“I’m not kidding,” Sizhui interrupted, a hand falling to his sword, “I really did see it.”

It was against the rules to interrupt another. Sizhui just broke a rule.

(Sizhui was really nervous, then. His friend only broke rules when he was frazzled–which wasn’t often.)

“Are you going senile!?”Jin Ling yelled at the same time Jingyi asked, “are you okay, Sizhui?”

“Stone statues can’t move, dumbass,” Jin Ling continued, undeterred. He rolled his eyes and shrugged haughtily. Jingyi watched him tiredly.

Sizhui opened his mouth to say something–but, suddenly, they all froze.

A cool breeze flew by. Not unnatural in a cave like the one they were in–but it cut them to the frigid bone. One by one, candles stationed inside the stone walls, melted wax mounds scattered across the edges of the cave and held up by boulders– lit up all at once, resembling a field of burning crops. Orange light quickly took over any and all shadows, and Jingyi’s head snapped back and forth trying to watch them all.

His first thought was, wow, the cave was much bigger than they had thought.

His second thought was, of fuck, the cave was so much bigger than they had thought.

In less than a second, the atmosphere changed. In what was once normal, maybe a bit heavy, something new appeared. It was dark, sinister–Jingyi could almost hear the phantom whispers of evil energy whispering through the cracks in the cave. It was purely resentful, and so powerful it felt as though they were punched in the gut. He gasped quietly, as the energy levels increased and increased until they were drowning in a sea of resentment.

Jingyi tried to move, to push through the imaginary goop that kept his limbs immobile, but his fingers wouldn’t even twitch. He bit his lip so hard a bead of blood melted on his tongue, and all he could taste was iron.

Move, move moVE MOVE–

“Look out!”

Something hard, something heavy and cold whizzed past Jingyi, flying over his shoulder. He didn’t have time to stop it–and helplessness slowly trickled into his body.

He whipped around just in time to see what used to be the Goddess Statue’s immobile hand crash palm first into the ground, sending harsh, vibrating rumbles traveling through the earth. Sizhui and Jin ling went tumbling in a blur of white and gold.

The arm crackled and twisted so loudly and grotesquely bile rose in Jingyi’s throat as it moved back to its normal length. It moved fluidly, like water, but acted like bone.

Gods, it was so gross.

“Sizhui, Young mistress,” He screamed, voice scratching against his throat, “are you alright!? Answer!”

“Don’t call me that!” Jin Ling shouted back, albeit a little further away than he expected, voice echoing off the walls, “and I’m fine. Did you really think I got taken out by that attack?”

Not dignifying him a response, Jingyi rolled his eyes. He was about to call out to Sizhui again, when the alpha, quick and graceful as always, appeared back at his side. His eyes roamed over his body, frown alleviating when he…found or didn’t find what he was looking for.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Jin Ling perched oddly on the wall of a cave, golden bow glinting in the firelight. The arrow nocked on the string had begun to glow with spiritual energy.

“We have to fight this thing, huh?” Jingyi whispered, slowly drawing his sword. The goddess statue’s eyes flickered to him, and he made a noise that only half resembled a human scream, arm freezing, “this night could not get any worse, can it!?”

At that, Sizhui cracked a smile. It fell rather quickly.

“A-Ming,” he demanded lowly. A shiver crawled up Jingyi’s spine, but this time, it wasn’t the creepy-resentful-spirit-goddess…thing(?)’s fault, “can you get up there?”

“Of course I can. The question is whether I want to or not,” Jingyi groused, but he was already lighting the talisman Sizhui held out.

The Goddess statue rumbled. And Jingyi knew that he had already gotten his answer.

Lan Jingyi had never been as strong as Lan Sizhui.

It wasn’t because of their respective statuses either–Sizhui had always been able to pick him up, or beat him in an arm wrestle. Jingyi, as an omega, wasn’t made to do handstands as often as his Alpha and beta peers, (which, was a perk if you asked him), but because of his knack for accidentally breaking rules, the elders figured that making him copy rules sitting down wasn’t enough, so he was assigned to do them sometimes.

(They mostly just assigned him extra chores or extra work. Oh, how he hated writing excess essays…)

But even so, no matter how many he did, Jingyi had never gotten stronger than Sizhui. He was stronger than a lot of people, sure–Lian Laoshi made jokes that he had secret muscles hidden somewhere in his tiny body, which he despised.

Sizhui was the strong one, the sturdy one. Jingyi was nimble, and he was quick.

Talisman in hand, he sprinted across the stone, vaulting over the goddess’s outreached arms, her creepy, gray eyes following him like he was a bug crawling across the wall in her house. One of her falsely delicate looking hands slammed into the cave wall in front of him–and with a deep breath, he leaped over it.

He realized his mistake immediately–there was no way he could dodge another one of her attacks midair, and she had multiple arms.

There was nothing to scream, nothing to plead, just despair that closed its fingers around his throat–he was really about to be squashed like an annoying fly against the stone.

He closed his eyes, bracing for impact–but nothing happened.

An arrow whizzed out from somewhere in front of them, landing point blank on the statue’s shoulder. Her movement’s stopped, and Jingyi let out the breath he had been holding.

“Lan Jingyi!” Jin Ling shouted, somewhere from the right, “you made me waste an arrow–move your ass!”

“Shut up!” Jingyi screamed back.

Her arms flailed out, trying to catch Sizhui and Jin Ling. Jingyi could vaguely see glints of gold and silver through the dust that arose with every one of her strikes.

He skidded to a stop right behind her, harsh ridges digging into his boots. As soon as his momentum stopped, he focused all his spiritual energy into the talisman clutched between his fingers. Light burst off the paper, so bright it almost burnt. Then–he jumped.

Cold air whipped at his face as he fell, making his robes flutter out of place. Her back drew closer and closer until he was right behind her.

The talisman made purchase with a boom of light, white illumination battling against the flickering orange of the candle. Spiritual energy, both his and Sizhui's, came to life behind the goddess statue, swirling in wild, untamed and angry whisps.

As soon as Jingyi’s feet were on the ground, he ran underneath the frozen statue, skidding to a stop where Sizhui was poised, sword outreached, stance tense.

He panted as he fell to the Alpha’s side, hands on his knees. Sweat beaded down his forehead and clung to his clothes, and Jingyi knew his scent was probably going wild right now.

“I got it,” he cried, wheezing, “I did it!”

Sizhui smiled at him, giving him the barest hint of a glance, “good job, Ji–”

The Talisman broke.

The paper turned to ash, and the swirling energy they’d infused in it evaporated into the air like mist. The white light died, and then, only the ominous candle light remained.

Jin Ling landed beside them, a dirt cloud rising up around his feet. Jingyi didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything–and let the same dread from Mo Manor consume his very core.

Only this time, there wasn’t a Hanguang-Jun to save them.

“Retreat,” Sizhui whispered. Jingyi could barely hear him. Next time, it was louder, “Jingyi, Young Master Jin, retreat. We need to get out of here.”

Neither of them responded.

Jin Ling was frozen, face pale white, eyes widened in such an openly fearful expression it threw Jingyi off. His peony juniper scent was soured and loud in its tells.

Jingyi knew he wasn’t much better.

“Now,” Sizhui reiterated, voice low, almost on the verge of a growl.

Jin Ling and Jingyi gave their quiet concurrence, the former albeit with a scowl.

All three of them took off toward the entrance– Jingyi in the lead, Jin Ling behind him, and Sizhui bringing up the rear. The goddess statue roared to life behind them, her echoing, furious groans reaching the heavens with their volume. The cave rattled, pebbles and dust falling from the ceiling, pelting their heads and shoulders.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Jingyi chanted, looking over his shoulder in time to see her hands disappear under the ground. The impact was so hard it lifted both Jin Ling and Jingyi off their feet. Stalactites swung precariously–some of the icicle-like structures breaking off and cracking against the ground.

Her arms shot through wall to wall, coming closer and closer to them–until, all at once, 3 of her hands appeared in the path. And they propelled toward them with a purpose.

Jin Ling yelled something–Jingyi couldn’t make out his voice from the pounding in his ears. He shut his eyes so tight colors swirled under his eyelids.

A huge, resounding pop as something was set off thundered throughout the cave–followed by the crackling sound of a flare.

Jingyi stumbled to a half-assed stop.

Behind him, the Goddess statue was screeching–it was different from her previous cries. They sounded like they were out of pain.

Sizhui could rival the Goddess–looking as though his own body was made of stone, standing strong and unmoving behind them, one arm outstretched as though he could protect them with his arm alone from the oncoming blow. Clutched in Sizhui’s other hand was an empty flare, and Jingyi watched in awe as a mottled, blotchy version of Gusu’s emblem rose into the air. Most of the firecrackers hit the goddess statue’s arms, cracking off bits and pieces of her fingers and palms. The bright, blinding light was so close to them, so hot, it was like someone was placing matches to their exposed skin. As the flare’s sparkling brilliance began to fade into the air, her arms pulled back, blurring gray as they crackled and molded back into place.

The cave started to rumble in earnest.

“S…A-Yuan! The cave’s coming down!”

“Holy shit, did you just use your only flare!?” Jin Ling shouted.

Jingyi’s eyes snapped over to him, “will you just shut up and run!?”

They broke through a thick film of dust and floating debris congregating at the carved entrance of the underground temple.

Choking and sputtering, Jingyi emerged first, dust the color of coal coating his nose and cheeks, covering his pristine white robes in filth. Jin Ling was next, cursing and spitting vitriol. He got hit with a rock on his way out, after he rudely knocked into Jingyi and sent him flying through the opening. Sizhui came out last, an arm in front of his mouth.

“Keep going!” He shouted at them, coughing. Jingyi, his legs wobbly and his lungs burning, groaned and turned on his heel.

Behind them, the rumbling increased. The very mountain the cave was sculpted into seemed to shake and quiver with each step of the goddess, who emerged not soon after, a powerful gust of wind blowing the obscuring cloud of filth away.

“What is this thing!? First that homicidal arm, and now this!? I mean, what the hell!?” Jingyi exclaimed, “Sizhui!”

“I don’t know Jingyi,” Sizhui panted. His arms were shaking, “though…this energy…”

“...yeah. Similar to what we fought back at the manor…” Jingyi finished, shaking his head, “but it’s not the same. And this thing is attacking us with all of its arms! You don’t think we disturbed it and provoked it into attacking, do you?”

“I can’t say,” Sizhui frowned. He reached for his belt, where he stored the flare, but froze.

They all knew he had already used the flare to get out of the cave alive. They couldn’t call Hanguang-Jun, now.

Which, translation–meant they were most likely fucked.

“This is what you fought at Mo Manor?” Jin Ling asked, voice breathy in disbelief, “how did it end up here?”

“We don’t know–,” Jingyi pulled at his hair, “for all we know, this could be something totally different lurking on Dafan Mountain. We fought a…a really, really powerful spirit in the form of an arm. It escaped, so it could’ve gone into the statue, but we can’t tell.”

Jin Ling scoffed and turned away. Jingyi stuck his tongue out at his back.

There was rustling above them. Jingyi thought, gods, please not more resentful spirits. This can’t get any worse. We can’t fight those and this at the same time!

Relief flooded his veins when three rogue cultivators dropped down from the trees instead. They wore plain, dull colored robes, but carried themselves with the experience of a cultivator who’d been trained and night hunted before. For a quick second, Jingyi felt relief–but then, apprehension.

If this statue–and whatever spirit was inhabiting it was what they fought at Mo Manor, then…well, if Hanguang-Jun couldn’t subdue it when he was there, then what chance do these rogue cultivators have?

Even if it wasn’t the resentful arm spirit–it was still obviously powerful.

The triad of cultivators were made up of Two Alphas and a Beta. The head guy–the biggest Alpha with a more…intricate–though still plain– headpiece than the other two surveyed them up and down, a grin on his face. Jingyi wrinkled his nose like a rabbit.

“Holy shit, would’ya lookit that!” The beta proclaimed, bouncing on his feet, “it’s huge. Wonder what it is!”

“Who knows, and who cares. We’ve been fighting small fry fierce corpses all night–here’s our chance to fight something bigger. Hey, Lans…and Jin, I guess, leave this thing to us. It looked like you were struggling a bit. Can’t be helped. I wouldn’t expect kids like you to be able to take something like this on. A valiant effort, though!” the second Alpha said, a cocky look that, for some reason, irked Jingyi more than Jin Ling’s smug face.

He was so obviously patronizing that it hurt.

Jingyi stiffened in horror, mind going white, as an arm was sidled around his neck, pressing against his collar and resting over his shoulder. Without his outer robe as a buffer, Jingyi could feel the warmth of the appendage from the thin fabric of his inner robe.

An unfamiliar scent assaulted his senses, and this time, he couldn’t hold back the startled whimper.

“Yeah! Not to worry, fair one, we’ll take care of it. So save those pretty omega tears, mm?”

Sizhui reacted viscerally, flinching like he had been struck as he whipped around to look at them. Jin Ling too. Their eyes burnt in the darkness like dying embers. Sizhui’s hand tightened around his sword so hard the blade shook.

“Oh, get off and screw yourself!” Jingyi shouted, flailing out from under the Alpha’s thick arm, shimmying backwards and away from the stifling fragrance. To his mortification, real, wet tears of frustration and humiliation gathered in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but the lump in his throat only got thicker, pooling like honey in his throat, preventing him from saying anything else.

“We have this handled!” Jin Ling screeched and–wow, when did he get back there? The young alpha was right in the face of the one who wrapped his arm around his neck, “So why don’t you fuck off permanently!?”

Undeterred, the Alpha just laughed, winking at Jingyi before he was off into the trees. Sizhui was in front of him in a second, and with every breath of his earthy scent, Jingyi’s heart calmed down. The ashiness tickled his nose, and, oddly enough, Sizhui’s anger comforted him.

“What an ass,” Jingyi blubbered, lips quivering as he tried his best to hold back his tears. He had folded into himself, shoulders hunched, like if he tried hard enough, he could curl into a ball tiny enough to hide his sorry ass from everyone around him.

Sizhui was shielding him with his body, he was thankful, and he would’ve let him, if not for–

“Jin Ling!”

Seeing the gold blur dart toward the leering Goddess statue snapped him out of his stupor. Sizhui too, his eyes wide.

“What the hell are you doing!?” He seethed. The young Alpha didn’t answer–he was too far away, attacking the statue with the blunt of his sword, dragging it down one of her arms until he landed steadily on his feet. Like a cat.

Jingyi surged forward, grasping Sizhui’s arm like a lifeline. He knew he was gripping hard, saw how his knuckles turned white–but Sizhui, graciously, said nothing, just let him lean his shaking body into his. His scent surrounded him like a protective blanket.

“What the hell is he doing!? Sizhui! Hey–!” He raged, voice traveling over the forest, “Young Mistress, do you have a death wish or something!?”

“Shut up, Lan Jingyi!” Jin Ling returned.

One of his arrows hit the Goddess point blank in the shoulder–it chipped off the stone right above her bodice. Jingyi watched in horrified fascination as she reached for him and then, clicked slowly to a stop. She looked like she was struggling, and Jin Ling, perched in a branch with his bow drawn, drooped, confused.

Then, whatever had her struggling wore off, and her arm whipped toward Jin Ling, who narrowly missed the attack by throwing himself out of the tree.

“Should we–”

The Beta, who was still standing there, watching Jin Ling’s poor attempts at bringing the goddess down, held out a silent hand toward them. The sheer audacity.

Then–ringing.

The harsh sound reverberated off of the edges of the sky, pounding deep into their heads and making the ears ring like nothing else. It hurt–Jingyi reeled back at the same time Sizhui doubled over to plug his ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of a bell, eyes screwed shut, head buzzing with the awful, shrieking noise the contraption animated.

When he opened them, through the blotches of colors in his vision, he saw runes painted into the sky. They glew in stark contrast with the indigo hue of the horizon, casting straight beams of light down onto them. The bell in the center grew bigger, and bigger, until the timely clang of metal on metal ringing through the mountain was positively unbearable.

In an all too sudden absence of that inferioriating ringing–it fell.

The noise was muted because of the soil and vegetation covered forest floor, but a cloud of dirt arose around it as it made its home in the ground. The clanging stopped as soon as it met the grass. The impact reached them with its harsh vibrations, sending shaking waves up Jingyi’s spine.

When everything finally came to a standstill, Jingyi half expected to find blood in his ears. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt around them, and nothing was amiss.

Miraculously, The Goddess Statue had been encased under the giant bell, her anger being quieted under a thick case of metal.

And despite his disdain for the rogue cultivators, even he had to admit–that was pretty awesome.

For a moment, there was silence. Jin Ling came skidding back toward them, face pinched. He was probably angry his prey was taken from him–didn’t his Uncle say something about finding something worthy to bring back or not going back at all? Jingyi winced in sympathy.

The Alpha from earlier–the bitch who disappeared into the treetops hopped down from above. He turned around, an ugly smirk on his lips, but faltered when he saw Sizhui and Jin Ling–maybe it was something on their faces that made him stiffly turn away. Whatever it was, Jingyi sighed in relief, thankful he didn’t have to look at him any longer. He drew closer to Sizhui, seeking his familiar protection.

“Young Master Jin,” Sizhui sighed, “will you please refrain from rushing into situations? That was dangerous.”

“I’m not your didi,” Jin Ling scowled, eyes darting to Jingyi and away, “you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Sizhui put a hand to his face–pinching his nose, “just…be more careful, in the future. It isn’t wise to rush into things.”

Jingyi tuned out their conversation, turning his attention toward the bell. The man that equipped it and his posse were by his side–the other two, albeit further away. He had a hand on his hip, his flowing scent proud and pleased. He knocked on the bell twice.

“It always works,” he bragged, “hey, A-Chen, come check this ou–”

The Alpha was cut off as the bell rattled. Sizhui and Jin Ling stopped talking–or, arguing, on the young mistress’s end, as it shook again. Once, Twice, three times, four–

“This…this isn’t supposed to happen,” The beta said.

The bell cracked and then–bright, white light.

“Duck and cover!” Jingyi yelled.

As he pulled Sizhui down with him, her arm shot through the metal and grasped the alpha’s face. The illumination got brighter, hotter– only disrupted by the sudden burn of a talisman Sizhui ignited.

“Jin Ling!” He called, “behind me! I have a shield!”

Their worlds were enveloped by white.

When Jingyi’s vision cleared, he caught the end of the shield Sizhui ignited dissipating into the air.

The second thing he noticed was the fire.

The entire forest, in the span of ten seconds, had caught fire. Lines of reaching flames stretched through the trees, forcing their way through pathways that didn’t exist, coloring the sky with oranges and reds. The heat distorted everything, and there, amidst all the calamity, stood the Goddess statue, unbothered and impossibly huge.

Jingyi’s heart dropped when the smoke cleared and her figure was cleared for all to see.

One of her arms, previously deceptively thin and demure, had taken on the form of a bulging, ugly hulk of an appendage–discolored and leaking resentful energy from every pore.

They were right–It was the same one from Mo Manor.

“Sizhui!” Jingyi lamented, “it’s the arm from Mo Manor! We…we were right!”

Sizhui’s shoulders tensed, and Jingyi knew that they were thinking the same exact thing.

Jin Ling, completely ignoring everything Sizhui had quite literally just said, three arrows nocked, took off again– golden robes whipping around his legs as he cruised toward the goddess statue. The tip of the arrows glew bright yellow, and as they released, one of them clipped her just above the eye.

The Goddess Statue was not happy about that, if her sudden change in direction was anything to go by. Her stone eyes, as monotone and empty as they were, were paved with fury.

“He fucked up this time, holy shit–” Jingyi bellowed, “Young Mistress, you are a massive moron!”

Now closer to the thick tree line, Jingyi caught a whiff of–honey. He started for a second, it was familiar, and sweet, and–

“Children, children! How interesting, seeing you again! It must be fate! Aiya, don’t you think you should hurry and send a signal to your Hanguang-Jun right about now! Things are getting stressful! Poor me, poor me, I don’t think I can take this much longer!”

Sizhui’s head whipped around so fast his neck might’ve cracked–Jingyi couldn’t tell over the noise. Startled, the omega followed his friend’s gaze, and immediately, there was annoyance.

Mo Xuanyu looked the same as when they last saw him–no more injuries had popped up, and he was still gazing at them with a cheeky, half smile that really didn’t belong on the lunatic’s face at that moment–they were quite literally fighting for their lives. How could you smile in a state like that!?

“You– Mo Xuanyu, what are you still doing here!? Why haven’t you fled!? I know your mind isn’t all there, but can’t you tell it’s dangerous to still be around? There’s a raging, evil spirit inside a goddess statue rampaging around, for heaven’s sake!”

Mo Xuanyu pressed a dainty finger to his chin, “Huuuh? Why would I want to leave, when there’s so many handsome alphas around to take care of me? Like that Hanguang-Jun of yours! Speaking of which, how about you children hurry and send the signal flare he gave to you?”

“You–!”

Sizhui shot him a look, effectively shutting him up before he could dig any further into his spoken grave. Jingyi wilted, “I regret to inform you, Young Master Mo, that we used the flare to distract the goddess statue enough to escape the cave. Hanguang-Jun only provided us with one.”

Mo Xuanyu’s face fell into careful blankness, such a contrast to his usual expression. Then, abruptly, his eyes filled with big, shining, crocodile tears, and he sniffed obnoxiously, “that’s awful! Waaah, we’re all going to die, now!”

Then he disappeared behind a tree.

Dumbfounded, Jingyi turned back around.

“I don’t get why you like that guy, Sizhui, he’s a lunatic.”

(Sizhui did not dignify him with a response.)

Huffing, Jingyi searched the area for a specific, annoying, gold-clad alpha, who seemed to have even worse self-preservation than Jingyi himself–which was the feat of the century.

He mentally groaned when he spotted Jin Ling, perched like a bird in a tree, in a standoff with the Goddess statue. In any other situation, Jingyi would’ve laughed–they were both glaring at each other, both with enough ire in their gazes to send any person with self-preservation running for the hills. They were not in a funny situation, however, and seeing Jin Ling directly in the line of fire from the resentful spirit had his heart racing.

How odd was that? Fearing for the life of someone he had just met. A rudeass Alpha heir, too.

Sizhui was watching the spectacle with keen eyes–firelight flickering off his face, his hair swaying in the light, forest breeze that caressed their faces. His arms were tight–Jingyi’s eyes flickered from his shaking, white knuckles and back to Jin Ling like he was watching a sparring match.

Then, Jin Ling fired his arrow.

It was as though he could hear the whizz of metal cutting through the air, stone crackling and crumbling off of the Goddess statue’s arm. It was as though he could hear her laughter, deep and booming, because now–Jin Ling had nowhere to go. Jingyi’s throat closed with despair, at the same time Jin Ling’s eyes widened and flooded with fear. The Goddess statue, the resentful spirit attached to her arm, reared back, shot toward Jin Ling, and–

Music.

Music, flooding their air with its grating squeakiness from behind them–an awful rendition of a song that Jingyi briefly recognized as something familiar. It struck his ears, sent a lightning strike of pain across his temples, but the Goddess statue stopped, just before her hand crushed Jin Ling against the tree, giving him just enough time to throw himself out of the way before her palm struck the wood so hard the entire thing was busted halfway off its roots.

Jin Ling landed unsteadily, fumbling backwards, scrambling for purchase on the ground, and the music continued.

Mo Xuanyu had made his way out from the tree he chose to cower behind, clutching a bamboo…flute? In his hands. He played the most awful thing Jingyi had the displeasure of listening too.

“Hey! This is serious, why are you playing at a time like this? Stop it! It sounds awful!” Jingyi shook his fist at the omega, but he paid him no mind.

Sizhui looked awfully pale. The warm light highlighted the sickly hue his skin had taken on.

Rumbling started underfoot, and Jingyi was racing toward Sizhui before his mind caught up with him.

“Look out! Somethings coming!”

Sizhui snapped back into awareness quickly, catching him by the arm easily and gently. The careened to the side as dirt was upturned where they were standing, pieces of grass and other vegetation flying into the air as–whatever was underneath crawled its way to the goddess statue.

They watched in horrified fascination as chains came out from the earth first.

The material glinted in the flames, climbing high into the air, wrapping around the goddess statue’s limbs, wrapping around them once, twice, three times–before they ripped.

The stone marvel came down in a huge tuft of breakage. Pieces of her limbs broke away, her arms pulled unceremoniously off her body, clouds of dust and dirt rising in secluding tufts as her entire being crumpled to the ground a broken puppet.

As she fell, the figure standing there became clearer.

Ragged robes, with discolored skin, long, dirtied hair. There were chains wrapped around his wrists, his ankles–they couldn’t see his face but–

The music stopped, and so did he.

The man turned slightly, and…

…Jingyi had only seen the Ghost General on posters. He knew, they all knew, he was burned at Koi Tower after murderering Jin Zixuan along with his sister. They all knew he was supposed to be ashes by decree of the Jins, but here he was, a Ghost standing before them on two legs.

The man who killed Jin Ling’s father was standing there. In front of them.

“No,” Jingyi whispered.

“That’s…” Sizhui muttered, stunned.

He couldn’t make out much over the stifling scent of smoke and wet stone, but he could make out Jin Ling’s fragrance– furious, fearful, agonized. The boy himself didn’t look much better- Jingyi could see his shaking from where he was, the way his entire body lost color, and his sword was quivering where he clutched it.

Suddenly, through the smoke, the arm shot out, and caught Jin Ling around his neck.

Jingyi was aware of his mouth moving to scream Jin Ling’s name, but he couldn’t hear himself. For a moment, everything was underwater, he was moving through a cloud, and the–the ghost general wasn’t moving.

The song started up again, and–

–The Ghost General eventually got the arm.

Quite easily. And if Jingyi was capable of feeling anything at the moment, he would have been a little impressed.

As the Ghost General held down the struggling arm. Sizhui approached him, slowly, deliberately–and Jingyi knew him too well to miss the hesitation in his step. Of course, ever the one to complete his duty no matter what, he opened his spirit-trapping pouch, and with no struggle, the spirit was sucked inside.

Jingyi tugged at his collar. Sizhui returned to his side.

“A-Yuan…Mo Xuanyu is…”

His friend did not look at him, staring off into the distance at the Omega with the flute. His glowing red eyes burned brighter than the flaming trees.

“A demonic cultivator, yes.”

“At Mo Manor…do you think that he raised those corpses? I mean…”

Sizhui looked at him, and Jingyi was surprised at how lost his expression was, “I… don’t know, Jingyi.”

Rogue cultivators, the Alphas and Beta posse from earlier, and new ones Jingyi hadn’t noticed–or cared– that showed up came running, and Sizhui shielded him with an arm as they came flying past.

“Forget that arm, it’s the real Ghost General, Wen Ning! Imagine what kind of prize we can catch if we get him? Let’s go, attack, attack!”

They watched them run off toward where the Ghost General was fleeing, expertly hopping through trees, chains swinging in the wind. They watched until the backs of the rogue cultivators and the glint of steel from the Ghost General were lost in the smoke.

A beat of silence past.

“Jeez, I knew he was a lunatic, but demonic cultivation!? That’s just like how the Yiling Patriarch started out,” Jingyi huffed, swaying slightly. Sizhui reached for him, and he waved him off, taking a deep gulp of air, “what a peculiar man, that omega. God, and his flute skills are horrendous!”

Sizhui set a hand on his arm, and Jingyi was silently grateful for the touch, sending a small smile toward his friend, “I…yes, the flute playing was…lacking, however, the song…it was familiar. In some way.”

“What, are you suggesting Hanguang-Jun played something as ear piercing as that?”

“I…actually, I think A-Die has played it before. A lullaby perhaps, when I was a pup. It might not be a Gusu melody, if Young Master Mo is familiar with it.”

Jingyi shrugged, “now that you mention it, it was a bit familiar to me, too. Don’t remember where I heard it from, but it was probably Hanguang-Jun. Or, maybe it was a melody that sounded similar–Ah, whatever! I bet he played it nicer…hey, wait! Where's the Young Mistress!? Is he okay? I swear, if that dumbass got himself killed…”

Sizhui tilted his head up, sniffing the air. His eyes widened, and Jingyi caught a whiff of sandalwood as soon as purple light cast over the clearing.

“Hanguang-Jun–”

“Sect Leader Jiang–”

Zidian whipped through the air, crackling as it went. Jingyi yelped, skidding backwards even though the whip didn’t even come close to him. The sublime tune of a Guqin cut the atmosphere, and Jingyi thought, oh god, not again.

The sight they were greeted with was Mo Xuanyu getting Zidian to the back.

He and Sizhui went running toward where Sect Leader Jiang was jumping to, feet tearing through the trees in a vain attempt to keep pace with the furious man–toward where their senior was. Both of their shoulders sagged in poorly disguised relief when they saw the imposing figure of the Alpha, guqin in hand.

It wasn’t a secret that Jingyi admired Hanguang-Jun–and he was one of many disciples who took inspiration from Lan Wangji’s cultivation prowess. He fought gracefully, yet, unyieldingly–it was with such elegance that, despite knowing of his skill, his power, you were still surprised at the ferocity his strikes came down. Many admired his expertise with the sword, the way he wielded Bichen as the textbooks stated–an extension of a limb. Jingyi, who, despite his instructor’s fruitless tries, never learned to play the guqin…coherently. Not like A-Yuan. So, he loved it the most when he would play the instrument, whether it was in battle or under the blanket of stars in the backhills.

Now, seeing Wangji out, the instrument’s sharp strings glinting challengingly under the moonlight, the Alpha’s hand poised over them, and the deep, drumming note still ringing through the air– had dread pooling in Jingyi’s stomach.

The elder omega went flying, his body reduced to nothing but a tumbling pile of ill-fitted clothes and knotted black hair. He skidded through bushes and rolled through grass until he came to a stop. Jingyi winced.

“Zidian,” Sizhui whispered next to his ear. His voice was breathy, pinched, “a legendary weapon infused with purple lightning. Which means…it can propel foreign spirits from a body. In other words, a spirit…possessing…a body will be forcefully expelled. However, if that’s not the case, the spirit will not be harmed otherwise. Just…the body.”

“Ohhhh,” Jingyi said, in a trance like daze, “so Sect Leader Jiang thinks that Mo Xuanyu is possessed, huh? I dunno, Sizhui. I think he’s just a lunatic! I mean, who in their right mind would possess someone like him? And…don’t you think it was mean, Sect Leader Jiang whipping a civilian like that.

“Mn,” was all Sizhui replied. In any other circumstance, Jingyi would have teased him for how Lan Wangji that was–but, instead, he watched Mo Xuanyu’s figure with bated breath and clenched fists.

The omega rose, slowly, face a pained grimace. He rubbed his back, and then–pouted. Pouted! A man who just got whipped by the famed Sect Leader Jiang and his weapon just pouted at him.

Nothing had changed after all, and, despite himself, Jingyi slumped in relief.

“Ah! Sizhui, so he wasn’t possessed after all! But…that means…Sect Leader Jiang just whipped Mo-Gongzi for nothing…” Jingyi trailed off.

Sizhui’s frown drew deeper.

“Ow, owww, that hurt! That really hurt! Hey, you, you’re a sect leader! So what? You think you can just whip defenseless omegas without reason? Look at me! I’m so fragile! For shame, Sect Leader Jiang! For shame!”

“Impossible!” Jiang Wanyin roared. Jingyi flinched back, “why…why didn’t it work!? You…Wei Wuxian…you can’t be him, can you? Bah!”

Jingyi startled. The Yiling Patriarch!? Was that who Jiang Wanyin thought was possessing Mo Xuanyu!? As if. The Yiling Patriarch couldn’t be as crazy and weird as Mo Xuanyu was! Well…maybe crazy, but Mo Xuanyu really took weird to another level!

Zidian’s handle sparkled with a renewed ferocity, purple lightning crackling across the whip. He held it up, “I’ll find out. I’ll find out just who the hell you are!”

Jingyi was walking forward before he could register he was taking steps. Sizhui’s presence followed him unceasingly, and before he knew it, they were standing behind Jiang Wanyin.

“Sect Leader Jiang, that is enough!” Jingyi yelled. Jiang Wanyin didn’t turn around, but his eyes, narrowed into vexed slits, met his from over his shoulder, “for…forgive this omega for his impudence. I’m sure you know what Zidian does, and you know that if it didn’t work the first time, then it isn’t going to! You cannot attack Mo Xuanyu again, he is a non cultivator and a civilian.”

If possible, Sect Leader Jiang got even angrier. There were so many emotions swimming in the pool of fury that were his eyes, but Jingyi couldn’t read most of them.

The aggrieved scent of rolling storm clouds increased, knocking the air out of Jingyi’s lungs. He took a single, shaking step back. He didn’t know what the significance was, or why Sect Leader Jiang keenly tracked the movement with his gaze. Maybe the fear in his scent was evident over the ozone–but Jiang Wanyin said nothing to him.

“Just who the fuck are you!? How did you summon Wen Ning!? You…tell me! Tell me right now!”

Jingyi tried hard not to let the acute, disrespectful dismissal sting. (It did.)

He shrunk into himself, Sizhui’s hand on his shoulder the sole thing keeping him from sinking, unnoticed, into the darkness of the forest. It was warm on his shoulder, and he didn’t have to breathe to know his friend was purposely letting his scent out, so it would wash over him in protection.

“Uncle!”

Jingyi’s head shot up. The abrupt movement jostled Sizhui’s hand. It was Jin Ling, and he was okay!

But he was still such an idiot! What kind of cultivator tries to kill a goddess statue they’re clearly outmatched against!?

The Young Alpha looked a little worse for wear, but breathing and alive. Not…unharmed–his arm was draped over a Jiang Disciple’s shoulder, and they were both making their way slowly toward Jiang Wanyin. Jin Ling couldn’t walk without assistance, his knee buckling every time he put weight on it. Jingyi’s face screwed up–growing incredibly sad and guilty, for…some odd reason.

Jin Ling’s eyes were half closed, scrunched in pain. His face looked wrong without his angry scowl, and even worse with his pained grimace. His mussed, frizzy hair didn’t fit his immaculate appearance, either.

Jingyi shook the thoughts away–it wasn’t like he could do anything. He wasn’t a healer.

“That omega, his name is…is Mo Xuanyu. He used to live in Lanling, Xiao-shushu took him in. He’s…he’s a deviant! A lunatic! He’ll chase after anything that moves. Alphas, betas, omegas–trees…fl…flowers…animals! He’d pursue all of them!”

“Hmm,” one of the Jiang disciples murmured, “that’s right. Wei Wuxian may have been evil, but he had tastes. People said he would only flirt with those of other secondary genders, as was traditional.”

“And his dizi skills!” Another one piped up, “the Yiling Laozu was famed for his dizi, right? Well, if you heard Mo Xuanyu’s playing…well, it leaves much to be desired.”

“It’s awful!” The one who was holding Jin Ling attested.

The swirling lightning crackling around Zidian dissipated, swathing the area in orange light. The weapon shrunk slowly, until its form took that of the ring. Sect Leader Jiang slipped it around his finger.

“Very well, then,” Jiang Wanyin grumbled, turning his back to them, “still. This…Mo Xuanyu practices the dark arts. Yunmeng Jiang will deal with him accordingly. Take him away!”

Fear seized in Jingyi’s throat, and he could feel Sizhui going taught next to him. They couldn’t drag Mo Xuanyu away, could they!? Didn’t Sect Leader Jiang…

As Jiang disciples surged forward to seize him, the omega found refuge behind Hanguang-Jun. Indignant, Jingyi tugged on Sizhui’s sleeve.

“Sizhui! Why is he letting that omega hang all over him like that!?”

As privy as Jingyi was into Sizhui’s life, he did not know much about Hanguang-Jun, besides tales from the sunshot campaign, and…that he knew an omega, was friends with one, back in his school days. But…he knew the Alpha wasn’t big on personal touch, and he had only seen a few headpats given to Sizhui. He avoided any and all contact besides his son, when he could–so to let some…some stranger hang all over him like a parasite, clutch at his robes, and get so close where his scent was bound to seep into the fabric was implausible!

But here he was, letting Mo Xuanyu cling and coward behind his form. Jingyi’s eyes widened as he realized–he had taken a stance Sizhui was prone to. Standing in front of Mo Xuanyu, shoulders tilted slightly, staring down the people he perceived as the threat–it was undeniably protective. It was an Alpha staking a small claim, a warning–don’t take one more step.

Sizhui’s jaw was slack in surprise, his lips forming a perfect, ‘o’.

Over Mo Xuanyu’s pathetic simpering, Jiang Wanyin asked, “Second Young Master Lan Wanji. Are you trying to oppose me? Did you forget what I said earlier? I rank higher than you, you dare go against my command?”

Lan Wangji did not respond. Despite Jingyi’s limited time with Sect Leader Jiang, he could tell the lack of response made him boil.

Sensing the sudden tension, Sizhui stepped forward. He bowed.

“Respectfully, Sect Leader Jiang, you have proved Mo-Gongzi is not possessed. What further use do you have for someone as…mentally impaired as Mo Xuanyu?”

“I could ask you the same question,” the leader responded tersely, “why should the Lan clan bother with a lunatic omega like Mo Xuanyu. Or, even better, for a clan who spoke out the most against demonic cultivation, why would they protect one? Have you forgotten your clan principals? Your morals? You’d think you have enough trouble in your clan, but, ah, I guess the almighty Lan Wangji is a glutton for punishment.”

Jingyi clenched his fists.

“He may have used dark magic,” Hanguang-Jun asserted, “but he did no less than the right thing. He saved the lives of two junior disciples tonight, and has shown no animosity toward the assembled cultivators. I will not stand by and allow unjust punishment to befall someone who saved lives, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“That’s right!” Jingyi crossed his arms over his chest, letting the fury that had been building up spill into his words, “he saved us multiple times tonight! At Mo Manor and on Dafan Mountain. And he saved your nephew!”

“Yes, yes!” Mo Xuanyu chimed in. Jingyi gave him a mean glare, which the man either chose to ignore or didn’t see, “look, there’s no need for you to go after me like this Sect Leader Jiang. After all, I don’t chase everything that looks good…like that big cow in the village! It was waaaay too fat! That’s not my type. And you…you aren’t my type either, Alpha! Your Hanguang-Jun however…oh, he’s definitely my type! Such a handsome Alpha! I like him very, very much!”

Jingyi’s face flushed red. He opened his mouth, to shout, to yell at him, because how dare he be so improper with Hanguang-Jun!! Did no one ever teach him manners!? But, before he could–

“Fine, then. Sect Leader Jiang, this one will take Mo Xuanyu to the Cloud Recesses.”

What the hell!?

They weren’t really going to have to live with that insane omega, right? Hanguang-Jun wouldn’t keep him there…right!?

Sizhui looked just as scandalized as Jingyi felt–he was staring at his father with a fearful, bewildered expression.

“Tch. Typical Lan Wangji, abiding by his own rules. Very well then! Disciples of Yunmeng Jiang, Jin Ling, we’re leaving!” Jiang Wanyin snapped, waving his arm.

The four of them remaining watched as the Jiang Sect delegation disappeared into the shadows, their purple robes melding into the far forest. Jingyi’s eyes tracked gold, until he couldn’t help himself but call out to the Alpha.

“Hey, Young Mi–Young Master Jin! Be…be more careful next time you throw yourself into a fight you can’t win! You could’ve died, idiot!”

Jin Ling whipped around to stare at him, face pinkened, “Why are you still standing, omega!? Sit down and rest! Idiot!”

“Ugh! Nevermind!” Jingyi shot back, throwing his hands into the air. It wasn’t long until Jin Ling disappeared, too.

As soon as it was only the four of them left, Jingyi’s head started spinning. The forest blurred, dark greens and blacks, the occasional splash of moonlight, melding together into a confusing, moving painting. He didn’t realize he was listing to the side until his body found the familiar line of Sizhui’s.

The Alpha, gently grasping his biceps as his knees buckled, prevented him from slamming onto the unforgiving forest ground. Instead, Sizhui assisted him, holding up his weight, and laying him in a gentle sitting position. He groaned, body going lax, back bumping against Sizhui’s chest. This close, he could smell the crispness of his scent, could taste wild mountain flowers on his tongue. Every breath was, every heartbeat was Sizhui, Sizhui, Sizhui.

He hadn’t realized how strung out he really was. His muscles twinged in a way he knew he would be in pain come morning–not the pleasant soreness that came after training and usually faded with a hot bath, but the harsh, pulsing ache that screamed overworked.

Jingyi winced–his arms felt too heavy to move.

His head lolled onto Sizhui’s collarbone with a large, tired sigh. He was vaguely aware of Hanguang-Jun looking over at them, searching them for any noticeable injuries–and there was Mo Xuanyu, peering out at them with disconcerting, expressionless eyes, his full lips pressed thin.

“Man, I hurt all over,” Jingyi whined. He pressed his finger into the crease in Sizhui’s brow, and beamed at him when the concern melted off the Alpha’s face, “that was exhausting! I can’t believe it, we came here to fight off fierce corpses, and everything got worse. I hope we still get a good grade, but when I get back to Gusu, I’m sleeping for a week!”

Jingyi did not, in fact, not sleep for a week, but for 16 hours.

The ride back from Dafan Mountain filled Jingyi with equal amounts of dread and delight. He was going home, he could sleep in his nest, he could take a really long, really hot bath. He almost cried when he collapsed into his bed–his omega not even caring the scents on it were old and non-renewed before he was fast asleep. They were excused from classes, and both he and Sizhui were allowed some much needed rest.

When he woke up, groggy and lethargic, there was food and a bath waiting in his room. Jingyi could have cried, and he almost did over the first bite of warm, fluffy rice.

It was when he was fully alone, sunk up to his mouth in the steaming water of the bath, hidden behind a privacy screen that he had finally let himself break.

However he was holding himself up, whatever glue was locking the pieces of him together came undone. And one by one, he chipped away.

Tears rolled down his reddened cheeks, disappearing into the steam, plopping into the water. Meaningless. Jingyi wrapped his arms around his midsection, curling his shoulders inward. He clutched hard enough that his stomach hurt, and in the stifling quietness that was his dorm, his sobs were the loudest noise in the world.

He angrily scrubbed at his face, willing himself to stop crying those stupid tears, because he wasn’t weak, he wasn’t a baby, and he felt wrong, he felt so, so wrong and why did that stranger, that alpha, touch him? Why did he look at him like that, he wasn’t even matured, but it was just an arm slung around his shoulder, did he even have the right to be throwing a fit about something so subliminal, so illogical? Jingyi slung his arm around his friend’s shoulders, Sizhui has put his arms around him so many times so then why–

(Why did they talk to him like that, when he was just another cultivator there?)

With shaking hands, Jingyi wrung out the wash cloth, placed the cold, damp, soap riddled fabric onto his neck, and scrubbed.

He rubbed the back of his neck, over his scent glands, everywhere where he could still feel the phantom weight of that man’s stare, every stare he had gotten that night with a vigor that sent lines of pain down his arms. He rubbed until his scent glands were swollen and ripped and screaming at him, until his skin was red and raw, until the washcloth came back with tiny beads of red.

By the time he threw the rag over the side, his upper body burned–he had never felt such an agonizing pain in his scent glands, but he didn’t care, because the miniscule abrasions had already begun to heal.

Without another thought, Jingyi threw his head under the water.

His legs came out higher from the other side, and the temperature contrast made him shiver, and he knew he must’ve splashed water onto the floor, but he didn’t care. Submerged, there was nothing. Jingyi couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat–just the muted noise of the water.

His eyes were squeezed shut so tight colors swam beneath his eyelids–it hurt his head, and now that his upper body was in water, his raw skin stung like nothing else.

Jingyi wrapped his arms tighter around himself, in a poor imitation of a one-sided hug. Then, with a moment of minor hesitation, he brought his hands up, fingers feeling around his neck, where there was an absence of his collar.

(It hurt.)

He brought his hands around his neck and–

–squeezed.

Not enough to fully constrict his airways, but the pressure, his own pulse–it grounded him. And this time, when he sobbed, they were completely soundless.

He emerged, sputtering and coughing on water, salt coating his cheeks.

(When he finally got out of his bath, adorned in loose, inner robes, his hair still dripping water, he layed facing the ceiling in bed. He didn’t cry anymore, but in the lack of pitiful tears, what surfaced was numbness…and anger.)

Next time, Next time, he told himself. Next time he would be stronger, more respected. People would look at him as capable rather than a burden, he’d show everyone he was worthy of his sword. They would look at him with the same pride as they did Sizhui, no dumb, stupid, asshole Alpha or Beta would gaze at him like he was a breedable piece of meat. Next time, next time…he would be equal. Equal, because all his differences were being an omega, even though he always fought just as hard as everybody else.

(Next time, Next time, he kept telling himself. But deep down, he knew that it would never happen at all.)

Renewed tears soaked through his pillow. It turned out, despite it all, he still had a lot to shed.

Chapter Text

The day Lan Jingyi matured, it stormed.

Gusu wasn’t prone to powerful weather–it got dreadfully cold during the winter months, mild in the summer months, but full blown storms were frankly, uncommon. So, when torrents of water tore from the sky and thunder bridled across the clouds, the Cloud Recesses had shut down. Classes were canceled–it was impossible to see through the harsh rain. The paths, the pavilions, the meal halls were all completely abandoned, the disciples banished to their dorms.

From his own room, far away from the community dorms of the Cloud Recesses, Jingyi could watch rivers of tumbling water race down the mountain, streams of it falling in thick splats off of his slanted roof. In his heat-dazed, exhausted mind, the sound of merciless rain pounding its fist against his walls was like a lullaby.

It was hot, he was hot. A burning vaguely familiar from his initial presentation, it tore him apart from the inside out. His organs were on fire; specifically the area around his womb and his entire midsection. It cramped with an unlimited passion, sending angry pulses of agony through his stomach. His head burnt with fever, his hair a sweaty mess plastered to his bare shoulders–he couldn’t wear his regular robes, he felt like he was dying swathed in the rough, layered fabric, so he was simply in a loose under robe, foregoing trousers. It was barely tied together, falling apart at the chest, slipping off his shoulders. To appease his own dignity, he had tried wearing pants for the first few hours–but his thighs had gotten so wet with slick he figured not wearing them at all was better than the mountain of laundry he would have to do if he had to keep recycling clothes.

There was a stagnant nausea that wouldn’t go away, choking at his throat. Food had been left through a hatch at the bottom of his door, only available to open from the outside, but the sheer smell of plain rice had him recoiling and doubling over.

So, he didn’t touch it.

Jingyi slept in fitful intervals. He could never tell if he slept for days, or for an hour–time passed by in an unfamiliar blur. Sometimes, the sky changed from blue to orange to black. All he knew when he woke up, dried and newer, wet slick crusting his inner thighs and heat still pounding at his skull–was that it wasn’t over.

It was miserable.

“First heats vary in symptoms for all omegas, the same for preheat symptoms,” Nan Lian had lectured him one day, ignoring Jingyi’s blushing face, “however, there is one thing most omegas have in common when they mature. A long, painful heat, delusion, and an absence of sexual arousal. That comes with age, as you continue to have your heats.”

His Laoshi had been right–it seemed like he was trapped in a fire-based hellscape for an eternity, and he didn’t have the ceaseless need to be bred, as portrayed in a lot of books. Sure; heats in erotica may be exaggerated for the purpose of sexual gratification, but a lot of alphas talked about omegas in heat the same way.

Jingyi did not feel the need to hump his mattress for some sort of relief, nor did he feel like he lived for an alpha’s knot and an alpha’s knot only; what he did feel, however, was the primal need for someone to hold him. It was embarrassing. The entire time he wrapped his arms over his belly, and curled up in his nest, he imagined someone’s protective embrace swathed across him like a soothing blanket, their voice cooing at him in his ears, scenting him without his collar–wholly and gently–, telling him that it would be okay, that it would be over soon, that he was being such a good omega–

The victim of those fantasies was mostly Sizhui, as he buried his face into the softness of his friend’s robes–the ones molded into his nest. He’d breathe in the soothing smell of mountains, or pine, of crisp Alpha sweat and he’d sigh, feeling the phantom brush of Sizhui’s gentle hands and his nose nudging at his bare scent glands. Jingyi would fist his hands into robes that dwarfed him, and with each breath of the faded scent of A-Yuan, the pain would ebb.

But then, it wouldn’t be enough, and he’d chase it into the fabric–and the heat cramps would return at full force.

(And, despite being deep in the grasp of delusional fever, it didn’t stop him from emerging from his heat thinking himself a pervert.)

He’d growl to himself in the isolation of his pheromone drenched room, dissolving into pitiful whimpers as he tried to claw the pain out of his abdomen manually. He didn’t feel the need, he didn’t want to be bred, but there was still a gaping emptiness inside him–one that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable and it ached. Nan Lian had actually recommended that he clip his nails and wear mittens the first few days–which were then prescribed and provided by the healers, but he had torn them to shreds a long time ago.

He carved red scratch marks into his torso–he never drew blood, because his nails were clipped very, very short, but they were angry and red.

There were times he was relatively clear headed, though burning with heat. When that happened, he drowned in self pity and bemoaned his fate, whilst rubbing his wet thighs with curious disgust.

Jingyi wasn’t allowed to open his windows–the shutters were shut and locked with the talisman on his door. But, gods, did he wish he could open them and poke his head out into the freezing rain–it would cool him, wash the sweat from his forehead, clear the heat from his brain. But no matter how long he stood on violently shaking legs as dollops of slick dripped from his privates and onto the ground, no matter how much he pawed at the closed windows–they wouldn’t open, and he’d sink to the ground, drowning in agonizing warmth, whimpering.

Sometimes, when he stopped shaking enough he could walk, he’d prowl the expanse of his dorm like an agitated, caged animal. The pain never fully went away, but he was dazed enough he could pace around, as the walls closed in, until he would sink bonelessly in front of the door and pound on it.

It stormed for days when he was in heat, and it was one of the worst things in his life besides his presentation and Lan Qiren’s spontaneous pop quizzes–but the week leading up to his heat was also the worst.

He woke up one day feeling wrong.

And everyone else around him had just seemed to make it worse.

They could do the littlest thing and Jingyi would feel like snapping. The clinks of chopsticks against glass bowls at mealtime, accidentally brushing his shoulders while walking, taking a stack of talismans Jingyi was planning on taking. He had actually growled–growled!-- at some poor beta who had asked him if he was okay while he was glaring at a bird that was singing too loudly in the trees.

Hell, he had even snapped a Sizhui a time or two, when the Alpha was just trying to help him.

The inescapable anger eventually faded, but Jingyi would honestly prefer that over everything else.

In the middle of the week, he had emerged from his bed to find, to his utter horror and embarrassment, to find that his chest had swelled. And they hurt. His nipples were dark red and puffy, the areolas swollen with tenderness. And as he pressed his hand to his bulged chest, it hurt like a bruise. The lumps were noticeable through his lighter robes, so he wore his heavy winter ones that day. Sizhui and his classmates gave him weird, concerned looks, but he stared resolutely anywhere else and cooked underneath the fabric.

The swelling did not go down until after his heat. Jingyi hated absolutely everything.

Also, he had been so, so hungry. So ravenous that it wasn’t even funny. They were only allowed three bowls of rice each meal, but it hadn’t been enough for Jingyi, who, even after the third bowl, his stomach was growling with hunger. He felt empty and tired and hopeless, because he couldn’t get enough to eat and the hunger pains would keep him awake for hours.

One day, the hunger was so bad, that Jingyi had swallowed three bowls before most of the other disciples had finished serving themselves their first. People were staring at him as he shoved vegetables and clumps of rice into his mouth and barely chewed before swallowing–some a bit disgusted, some concerned, some even a little bit awed. Jingyi didn’t care about the looks–he was too damn hungry to give a fuck–, but then, a bunch of little disciples had toddled over with their own bowls and pushed them insistently into his face. He suddenly had an army of tiny, some unpresented baby Lans clustered around him trying to pour their food into his bowl. Jingyi, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, froze.

While Zewu-Jun, sitting above them on his overhead seat, looked fairly amused, Lan Qiren had to tell them all–angrily, turning red, he might add–to go back to their seats.

(Afterwards Zewu-Jun had approached him about it, asking in very kind words why he had turned into a rice guzzling maniac all of a sudden–and Jingyi had tearfully confessed he though his upcoming heat was affecting his appetite, and he felt sick with how much he was craving food, and how the hunger pains kept him awake at night, and–

Needless to say, Zewu-Jun was horrified, and said he would speak to someone about an exception to the 3 bowls rule for him for the time being.

Jingyi was thankful, if embarrassed.)

What annoyed him most, however, was how people were drawing nearer and nearer to him and his preheat scent.

He could no longer deny it–his peachy scent had gotten sweeter, and he knew everyone could read the fact that he was quite literally about to ripen. To plump up like a fruit–he was near his heat, the time where he would be ripe and ready for the taking. Some of his classmates have found themselves the victim of his fierce backhands for advancing too close to his scent glands. Jingyi had gotten comments about it–mostly from the female disciples, Alphas cooing about how sweet he smelled, betas saying his fragrance was so much more pronounced than usual. He felt boxed, closed in, naked despite the layers of robes–see through.

(It was the first time he had longed for suppressants since That Day. He told Sizhui about it, shameful, and his friend’s face hardened with painful memories.)

“A-Yuan,” Jingyi confessed in the quietness of the library pavilion, two days before his birthday. It was nearing curfew, and they were the last ones there, finished scrolls rolled up on the table they shared, “you may laugh, but I…I’m scared for my maturity. Hah, I’ve never thought I would be this reluctant to get older.”

Sizhui, as always, had focused all his attention on him, a slight frown adoring his moonlight softened features, “that’s alright, A-Ming. I understand–of course, I will never go through a heat, but…I…I also felt unsure when I was going to go through maturity.”

“It just–it just–” Jingyi had babbled, hands gripping his hair, “I’m scared, I’m so fucking scared–I’m going to mature, Sizhui, did you know some people think that omegas are the correct age for marriage and having babies when they mature? Sizhui, A-Yuan, A-Yuan, I’m only going to be 16, and–and, everything hurts–”

Sizhui had seized his wrists and turned him so they were facing each other. His eyes were hard–the lantern light flickered in the deep pools of his honeyed irises, a determined fire reflecting in his pupils. Though he had grabbed him with such force, his fingers were gentle where they gripped his wrists. Feather-light, like he was someone precious, to be held with such care.

Jingyi’s eyes had steadily welled with tears–and as he blinked, they fell.

“A-Ming,” A-Yuan had whispered, his voice soft, private, “A-Ming, no, no. Of course that’s not true, you’re only going to be sixteen, you wouldn’t have finished your studies. A-Ming, look at me–we would never let you be married off like that, you’re–you’re not political fodder, or someone to be sold off. Even if someone wanted to, A-Die and I, Bobo, we would never let that happen to you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry it hurts, Jingyi.”

He had brushed his fringe away from his eyes, and Jingyi grabbed the hem of his robes. Sizhui’s eyes widened in surprise as they went toppling to the ground, his arms flailing and unintentionally barricading Jingyi to the ground, fingers splayed on either side of his head. Startled, he tried to pull back, but Jingyi held onto him tighter.

He was shaking–his body quaking in violent, wracking shivers. His mouth opened–to speak, to say something, but words wouldn’t come. Jingyi had looked into Sizhui’s eyes–confused, sincere, and didn’t hesitate before baring his neck.

His cheek pressed into the cold wood of the floor, and all that made it past his lips was “please”. And then, again, louder, pleading, “please.”

Sizhui had leaned down gently, always so gently, falling to his elbows and shrouding them under the isolating curtain of his hair, and nosed at the slivers of his exposed scent gland.

The Alpha scented him fully, until their chests were rumbling with twin satisfaction, and Jingyi’s mind was muddled with pleasant submission.

They had stayed like that, their scents dancing together in the air, until the warning bell rang.

(“Hmm,” During one of her lectures–or, rather, the end of one, Nan Lian had said, “maybe you should consider having someone with you for your heat.”

“What!?” Jingyi exclaimed, pounding his desk as he stood. Papers and ink pens rolled off and bounced on the carpet, “you–you–are you suggesting–Lian Laoshi, I’m too young to be bred–!”

She swatted him over the head, “oh, for heaven's sake, you little brat, I am not suggesting to you to be bred by some alpha! If you would let me speak, I am merely suggesting someone you trust to be with you. Maybe not for the entire time, just to make sure you eat and drink. Do you not listen to my lectures? I told you, whatever biases you have to let go of, being in heat doesn’t mean you’ll be throwing yourself at any alpha in some–some sort of sex crazed mania! Lan Jingyi, I taught you better than this–!”

“Stop badgering me, old woman!! Why would I have someone there while I'm literally leaking slick from my–you know!! That’s embarrassing!”

“More embarrassing than you getting even more sick from lack of nutrients, Lan Jingyi?”

“Yes–!!”

“I’m not doing it,” he had crossed his arms, chin in the air, “I won’t. I’ll be perfectly fine!”

…See how well that worked out for him.)

By the time Jingyi had woken up with a clear, cool mind, the skys had opened. He could smell the dampness of the grass, the mud left from the rain–the slight, tepid breeze coming in from the gaps of the shutters gave him goosebumps rather than relief from fever.

There was no fresh slick on his thighs–and though there was a slight ache from his self-inflicted scratches, a dull pulsing of his core, and weak muscles–there was no more heat. Just. Dried, flaky slick stuck to his legs, a sweat soaked robe, and hair that was beyond tangled.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, throat sore from all the whimpering and growling he had done, “it’s finally over.”

He didn’t feel…new. There wasn’t anything he could feel that was different. Sitting up in his nest, he stretched–joints cracking. He groaned–his bones aching pleasantly from finally being relieved of tension.

Tentatively, he placed his bare feet on the ground. It was cool–he drew them back before placing them fully onto the hardwood floor. He took slow, hesitating steps toward the full-length mirror on the other side of his room, legs shaking with effort. When he reached the mirror, he unwound the belt keeping his robe together, and the fabric dropped.

He felt a bit awkward being totally naked in his room without taking a bath–but, he wanted, needed to look at himself. To see if there was any physical change.

There were dark circles under his eyes. The inky black strands of his hair mussed and knotted, wavy with sweat–some plastered to his skin, others sticking out oddly. To his surprise, there was…nothing. No noticeable change, though–his hips looked a little wider, his ass a little bigger, the line of his waist smaller, but, then again, it had been a while since he had really inspected himself in a mirror. Besides the obvious fatigue, his skin was…glowing. His face, as he peered closer, looked more delicate, softer–not like the sharp and handsome lines of Sizhui’s face, but sweet in its demureness. The lashes framing his wide eyes were doe-like and striking. He took a minute proudly to admire the slight lines of his abs and biceps; he had always had trouble putting on muscle as compared to his peers, which is why he scowled when he pinched the squishy fat on his thighs.

For some odd, buried reason, he thought there would be something telling when he came out of heat. That he was a mature omega, biologically ready to be bred, prime to have pups, but…he looked more or less the same. He was still just Jingyi, with a sweeter scent, he guessed.

That thought made him more giddy than was probably justified.

Scrambling to put on something socially acceptable to go find a servant and ask for food and a bath, he happily donned robes that didn’t feel like sandpaper on his skin.

There was a talisman on his door, specifically designed so that he couldn’t activate it when out of his mind with heat. It required a steady, controlled stream of spiritual energy–and it would unlock his doors and windows. He bounded up to it, placing his hands onto the paper, and fifteen seconds after, the windows and door were swinging open. The shutters creaked, and his room was filled with summer morning, cool air.

He breathed in the fresh morning scent of the mountains–it tickled his nose, and reminded him how badly he wanted to see Sizhui.

Outside the door, a little ways down the path, was a beta servant, clutching a tray of food in her grasp. She gasped when she saw him, fumbling with the tray, before clumsily bowing as best she could. The Beta looked at his appearance, sniffed the air, and then blushed so fiercely Jingyi was vaguely worried for her.

“G-Gongzi! You’re out of your uhm…heat! A-ah, it’s good to see you out! I have food for you!”

He nodded to her in acknowledgement, bowing when she handed him the tray. The smell of fresh vegetables and warm rice made him salivate and get light-headed, suddenly reminded of how long he had been without food. Dizzy, he stumbled a bit, but caught himself on the doorframe. The beta buzzed around him worriedly. He waved her off.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” He hurried to assure, smiling, “ah, thank you for the food! Though, uh, can you…bring me a bath? Please?”

She nodded rapidly, “of course, of course! Right away Gongzi!”

“Oh, and–wait!” He called. She came to a stumbling stop, whipping around eagerly, “what…what day is it?”

Realization lit up her face, “Oh! Of course! It’s, it’s Saturday, Gongzi, you have no classes today.”

Saturday. It had been a week and a day since he went into heat.

Holy shit.

“Th..thanks!” He stuttered, shutting the door before she could answer.

The food was the best he had ever tasted, because it was the first thing he had tasted in a while.

He feasted on rice as he soaked in the bath, the warm water pleasing his sore muscles. He made sure to scrub the slick and sweat off him, soaping himself up twice. The servant had brought hair oils, which did wonders for his scalp and left his hair fluffy and shiny.

Jingyi looked and felt new, though he was still on the fact he had been holed up in his dorm for a week and a day. How didn’t he pass out? Sure, he had gotten to nibble on food when his mind was clear enough the sheer smell of rice didn’t repulse him, and he drank so much water trying to cool his body off he practically burst, but–it was just mind blowing.

(And…he was sure he would have to make up so, so many assignments. Hopefully Sizhui would help.)

He was happy to put on all of his correct robes again, even happier to feel the familiar and comforting weight of his sword at his hip. The omega tied his hair up into a tight ponytail, smoothing the fabrics down and was out the door as soon as he was dry enough.

Walking fast enough you could argue he was running, he made his way to the library pavilion. He knew Sizhui would be there studying or reading, as he usually did on Saturday mornings, his nose stuck in a book. Sometimes, Jingyi would join him, just to nap beside him before going to do some freelance training with he Hanguang-Jun–or go shoot bullseyes by himself.

He turned heads as he made his way to the pavilion–some people he knew from classes greeted him, others–mostly Alphas either stared at him with wide eyes or averted their gazes.

Jingyi slammed open the doors to the library pavilion, his smile so wide and joyful it pulled at his face. He spotted a familiar figure sitting at their favorite table, sitting straight as a stick, a book in front of him. Half of his face was obscured by bright, warm sunlight, illuminating him under the guise of a regal deity.

“Sizhui!” He shouted, bursting with so much happiness he was tearing at the seams. The Alpha jumped, wide, hopeful eyes searching around until they landed on him. A big, beautiful grin emerged, showing his dimples, crinkling the skin around his eyes, and Jingyi was utterly breathless.

The other people around sent him dirty looks. Jingyi’s arm pulled away guilty, and he smiled sheepishly, not dwelling on the angry gazes of his classmates as he scurried over to Sizhui’s table, almost tripping over the flying hems of his robes in his breakneck haste. He fell to his knees by his friend’s side, bone meeting soft cushion. Jingyi skidded to a stop, arms flailing wildly in the air as he halted himself from flying face first into Sizhui’s lap. The Alpha’s scent fell over him in a gentle wisp of comfort and pleasantness–he breathed it in desperately, lovingly, its quaint familiarness caressing the lines of his scent-starved mind.

Sizhui’s hands, gentle, unyielding, grasped his forearms before he could slam his nose into the table and bleed everywhere. That–especially after emerging from the worst week of his life, would have really been unfortunate.

Their eyes met. Sizhui’s wide and earnest, Jingyi’s no doubt reflecting all the barely contained excitement he was feeling.

Jingyi laughed first, bright and airy and definitely breaking multiple rules at once. Sizhui’s joined him, his quiet, tentative chuckles emerging in harmonious tandem with him.

“Sizhui, oh my gods, it’s so good to see you again!” Jingyi exclaimed in a scratchy whisper, a respectful attempt at keeping his voice down. He fumbled into a sitting position, folding his legs under his knees. They were so close their thighs touched, so close their shoulders brushed together. Jingyi relished in the contact, Sizhui, graciously, did not move away, “ugh, I feel like I’ve been gone forever! It was awful, A-Yuan, so, so awful. You’re damn lucky you never have to go through a heat!”

Dramatically, Jingyi huffed and threw his head down onto his outstretched arms. A beat of silence went by, only disturbed by the crisp sounds of paper and the gentle sway of windchimes. Pouting, he peaked one eye open, about to give Sizhui a piece of his mind, but–

The expression on Sizhui’s face made him pause–it was soft, open, his eyes honeyed clouds looking at him like a jewel, a painting, something beautiful, something dear. Sunlight made the sharpness of his face soften into forgiving sweetness. Jingyi felt his face burn from his hairline to his chest, and turned away.

He could feel Sizhui’s breath fanning across his cheek, his hair brushing against the exposed skin of his neck. Jingyi, oddly, had always been jealous of Sizhui’s hair–the way it was long, silky, and thin, the way it curled in moderate waves. In contrast to Jingyi, whose hair was thick and troublesome. Everytime he moved the slightest bit, it knotted, and it was a constant hassle to take care of.

Sizhui’s fingers tucked his fringe behind his ear so he could see his face. Jingyi’s cheeks burned brighter.

“I…missed you.”

It was spoken quietly, privately, the whispered words contained in their personal bubble. Jingyi turned around and blinked at him, a smile breaking out in full force. He reached out and tugged a long strand of Sizhui’s bangs.

“I missed you too, A-Yuan.”

Sizhui’s smile grew, and, face on fire, Jingyi rocketed up from the desk, nearly headbutting his friend’s face.

“I mean it when I say it was awful! To save both of us from embarrassment, I’ll spare you the juicy details,” Jingyi rolled his eyes, “ugh, I can’t believe I’m asking this, but how many assignments did I miss? And…oh, were any new rules added while I was wallowing in my slick induced misery?”

“Heat cycles are natural, Jingyi, I wouldn’t mind you talking about it. And don’t stress out, A-Ming, I made sure to take notes for you, for when you returned. Though, I believe you will be excluded from classes for a few more days.”

Jingyi whined, “what!? But my heat is finished! I can go back to class!”

After saying that, Jingyi scowled. Him, wanting to go back to class. Man, did the heat damage his brain?

“You forget that Gusu barely has any omegas, much less ones from the mainline. They…we just just want to make sure everything is alright. Okay?”

Jingyi put his head in his hands, tracing his finger along the grain of the desk. Sizhui picked up his calligraphy brush, and Jingyi’s eyes were drawn to the way his long fingers wrapped around the wood stem.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jingyi agreed, “I’m sooo special, because my body decided it had to be able to carry children and it decided to put me through hell every three months. Thanks for taking notes for me, by the way! I knew I called you my best friend for a reason.”

“Ah, yes, my only service to you is taking notes, even though you’ll still fail Master Qiren’s spontaneous tests.”

“Oh–jeez, you’re such a–!”

Sizhui knocked his shoulder against his, his scent bubbly and sweet. Jingyi, overwhelmed and quite possibly still recovering from his heat, let out a burst of happy pheremones. Sizhui reeled in surprise before settling, his eyes going glassy.

“Oh, sorry. I haven’t…I’m so unused to people! And I’ve only been locked up for a week! I need to relearn how to rein myself in.”

Sizhui stiffened, waving his hands, “no, no! A-Ming, it’s alright, I was just…a bit surprised. Your scent is…is so much sweeter. It’s… nice.”

Jingyi’s grin turned sly, “oh really? And what do I smell like now that has your tongue hanging out, hmm, Alpha?”

Sizhui rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his ears reddening, “well…before, you smelled like sweet peaches. It was very much an omega scent, unlike the natural headiness of Alpha scents or… herbal beta ones. Only omegas have sweeter scents. Now…ah, how do I explain? You still smell like the sweetest peach, but when I scent you, I can detect sugar…maybe sweet cream? Almost like a…a stick of tanghulu.”

He trailed off at the end, a long finger tapping along his chin. His lips pursed as he realized he was speaking his thoughts aloud, and he grinned meekly.

“So, what you’re saying is. I am basically a walking, fertile stick of candy? Wow, no wonder all those damn alphas were looking at me like I was a piece of meat…or, more like a piece of tanghulu they could eat up…ugh.”

Jingyi paused, face screwing up as he imagined the mental image. He was glad he couldn’t smell himself, or else he might drive himself crazy. In a way, it allowed him to stay ignorant and detached to his secondary gender–of course, it was undeniable he was an omega, but he didn’t have to be constantly reminded of the handicap his scent brought on him by smelling his sugary fragrance. He was reminded of it when others stared at him with disgust or…interest, but at least he was spared from it in the comfort of his alone time. Though…when he thought about the solace he found in Sizhui’s scent, how much it brought him relief, how much it filled him with love and protection, he hoped his scent did the same to Sizhui.

Sizhui’s scent went fiery, ash collecting stagnantly in the air around him, “who's been looking at you–”

It lasted for a split second, and then it was gone, and the crisp meadow scent of the mountains returned.

“Ah…nevermind. I’m surprised the healers let you out so soon, I would think the check up would have taken a while longer. I was going to meet you outside the healers ward.”

Jingyi blanked, “what healers.”

Sizhui gave him that look, the one that meant he had done something stupid, “...A-Ming, did you…not go to the healers before coming here?”

“..no?”

Sizhui put his head into his hands, his long-suffering sigh so long he was briefly worried for his lungs, “Jingyi, you were supposed to go to the healer’s ward first thing after your heat was over. Did no one tell you? And why did you come here of all places?”

Jingyi looked away petulantly, “no. Well. I don’t know! Maybe! All I was focused on was a bath, food, and…I wanted to see you. You must’ve been really lonely without me, especially because Hanguang-Jun and that luna–I mean, and Young Master Mo left with the demon arm.”

It was true–both of them had wanted to join the Alpha and Omega pair on their hunt with the demon arm, feeling twin senses of responsibility. It was their nighthunt that it appeared on, after all–they felt an equal pang of obligation and guilt. However, Hanguang-Jun had gently but authoritatively declined, explaining in his usual, severe way that with the arm’s extreme level of power, it would be dangerous for them to come along. Jingyi would never doubt that Hanguang-Jun couldn’t handle it! But, then why did he take Mo Xuanyu? It was weird, and…the look on Sizhui’s face when he left, that deeply sad, I'm-not-going-to-tell-anyone-about-my-feelings-because-I-think-they’re-a-burden look was one of the only expressions Jingyi loathed to see on his friend’s face.

And it wasn’t like Jingyi was any better.

Sizhui was a good sport, really, but Jingyi could tell he missed his dad. And, well. Jingyi also missed Sizhui’s dad.

Mo Xuanyu, after the sheer ruckus he made in Gusu the day and a half he spent there, not so much. Though, he was impressed by the chaos.

“As much as I appreciate it, A-Ming, you should have gone to the healers.”

Jingyi scoffed, “such a friend you are, telling me to go away! I’m going to tell Hanguang-Jun when he gets back.”

Sizhui raised an eyebrow, “A-Die would have told you to go to the healers.”

Jingyi threw himself back onto his hands, head lolling against his shoulder, “alright, alriiiight, I’ll go, I’ll go. Stop looking at me like that. I’m doing this to avoid the imaginary ire of Hanguang-Jun, not for your nagging ass.”

“I’ll walk you,” Sizhui replied gently. He rose soundlessly, offering Jingyi his hand. He let him pull him up, their hands slotting together. Once again, Jingyi was hyperaware of the size difference.

“Oh, one more thing, A-Yuan,” he paused. Breathed. And then looked resolutely into the eyes of his friend, “I want to go on another nighthunt.”

Sizhui tilted his head, a frown adorning his face, “so…so soon? Jingyi, you’ve just come out of your heat. And…” he looked away, “A-Die won’t be there, this time.”

“Sizhui…I…I know you see how they look at me. To tell you the truth, I’m…a little afraid. Now that I’m matured, that I might be locked in the cloud recesses. You know? Maybe they think I’m a liability, now that I’m not a pup. So, to prove to the elders and–and master Qiren, and everyone else, that I’m still capable, I…want to go on a nighthunt. And you know I’d never ask anyone else to chaperone me. We’re both sixteen, so it can be freelance.”

Sizhui surveyed him deeply, his eyes roaming over his face. In the past, he might’ve averted his gaze under the intensity of his stare. The urge to bare his neck was there, but he ignored it.

“You’ll rest for a few days?” Sizhui asked, voice barely audible.

“Ye-e-e-up.”

A slight smile, “then I’ll talk to Bobo about it.”

Lan Jingyi had always thought Zewu-Jun, despite the copious rules alluding to the prevention of it, had a unique penchant for delicate things. The thin rod windchimes set outside the Hanshi that sang the most soft, angelic tones, down to the tea sets he used. For all the times Jingyi had met with his Sect Leader, they were always different–but even then, most were formed with beautifully made golden trims, and swirling images depicting elegant scenery. Jingyi traced the smooth rim with the tip of his finger–the steam from the tea was hot and settled over his knuckles.

The design on these, the golden border was a little thicker, glinting in the light. Around the bottom, the color came up to almost half of the entire dish, branching off into textured leaves. There wasn’t much design, other than winding vines and the hints of pink petals.

Zewu-Jun’s dish was set down with a clink, and the Alpha must have seen him ogling the set with pleasant curiosity, because he smiled accommodatingly. When Jingyi finally raised his eyes, he stiffened sheepishly, mild embarrassment a slight inkling of warmth under his skin.

“They were a gift,” the man explained, head tilted slightly, like he could read Jingyi’s mind. Strands of his hair fell in a gentle swoop over his shoulder, “pretty, yes? The man who gave them to me is a very dear friend, and he has a mind for eye-pleasing objects.”

“Huh?” Jingyi asked, distracted. Awareness slammed into him a second later, and he fiddled with his collar, “oh! Oh, yes! This disciple apologizes, Zewu-Jun, I was just admiring the set, I agree, it is very pretty!”

Zewu-Jun’s smiled grew, his eyes warm, his scent fizzling pleasantly into the air. He reached for a stack of papers set aside on the table, picking up the folder and smoothing them into equality by bouncing them against the wood a few times. He placed the assortment between them, Jingyi leaned forward to read the one settled on top.

“Lan Sizhui informed me of your wish to nighthunt again,” he began. Despite himself, Jingyi stiffened, his eyes darting away. The man’s voice was soft and neutral, but for some reason, Jingyi’s fingers began to shake, “and, ah, of course I will allow it. I only wish to ask.”

The papers read an advertisement for cultivators–it read about a Yao sighting in a village he’d never heard of. He read the description, inquisitive. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, a simple Yao terrorizing the outskirts of a village, the citizens wanted it gone so they could continue living their lives in peace. The reward was quite flattering, as well.

“You wish for this nighthunt to be freelance, yes?”

“Yes, if that’s possible, Zewu-Jun,” Jingyi nodded. He took a large sip of the tea–it had gone a little cold, and he couldn’t quite keep the grimace off his face. Zewu-Jun, ever attentive, picked up the kettle and poured him some more, despite his protests.

“Ah, yes. We have been getting more and more requests for solo nighthunts like this, many pups have been coming of age as of late. To be sixteen again, going on an adventure as soon as the opportunity presents itself,” Zewu-Jun sighed. There was something in his voice that was undeniably fond, and it piqued Jingyi’s interest, “hmm, I suppose in his own way, Wangji was like this as well.”

Everyone knew about Hanguang-Jun’s penchant for solo nighthunting. During Jingyi’s childhood, he remembered Hanguang-Jun leaving almost as frequently as he was home. The man was never gone for long, however, promising Sizhui that he would return in, at most, a week. He never went over the limit he vowed, even if he didn’t complete his nighthunt. As they got older however, his solo nighthunting lessened as he took on more duties with training younger disciples. Lan Wangji never cared about glory, how fierce the prey was; he just cared about helping people, and Jingyi admired that deeply.

And, he always made sure to spend time with Sizhui, and bring him something back from his travels. That was what was important.

“Hanguang-Jun sure does love nighthunting,” Jingyi agreed, “he’s so righteous!”

Zewu-Jun plucked the Yao advert off of the stack, sliding it toward Jingyi. Having already read it, Jingyi only spared it a glance.

“As per your request, I have compiled a list of requests we have gotten. I picked this one out because I believe it would be a good starting point for both you and Sizhui, where the stakes aren’t as high as they were at Mo Manor. I, ah, would not want a repeat of what happened, especially now that Wangji is…occupied. Of course, you are welcome to sort through the other requests and choose a different one, but I would recommend the one I picked.”

There was an odd feeling of disappointment bubbling within his throat. Sure, he was lucky he was being allowed out at all, but…he was hoping for something a little more challenging. Something that would prove that he was more capable than most people were thinking now that he’d matured. He did say that he could pick another one…but something in his tone made Jingyi want to stick to what the Alpha said.

“Of course, Zewu-Jun,” he said, smiling through the torrent of emotion swirling in his chest, “I will be sure to review it with Sizhui. When…when will we be able to leave?”

“In a day or two, if that is fine with you both,” he paused, once again setting his teacup down with a gentle clink. He then leaned forward, popping his folded hands onto the table harmlessly, “Lan Jingyi, I do not think I have had the opportunity to apologize for what happened on your previous hunt.”

“A..ah..” Jingyi murmured, “don’t worry about it, Zewu-Jun, really! It wasn’t your fault, things just got…really out of hand? If that describes it properly.”

“Of course, I did not cause these events. But, I must insist, it was supposed to be a mundane assignment, as your first one outside of Gusu. Instead, it turned into something you weren’t capable of–”

Jingyi’s throat tightened, and he was unable to swallow around the lump.

“–nor was Sizhui, at both of your levels. It turned into something more dangerous than precedented, and you were both injured. Especially with you so close to reaching maturity, and for that, I apologize. It is a failure as your Sect Leader, and as an Alpha, that you were unprotected and harmed during a nighthunt detrimentally above your level.”

Jingyi was silent for a moment, hyper aware of the quietness that stretched between them, hyper aware of the feeling of fabric on his skin, hyper aware of his finger repeatedly tracing the smoothed rim of his cup.

“Really, don’t blame yourself, Zewu-Jun,” Jingyi finally spoke. After a moment’s hesitation, Jingyi met his eyes, and found them peering at him unfalteringly. He could not make out the emotions in them, “like I said, it’s not your fault at all! I’m…a cultivator, I should expect these things! I just…need to train harder so that next time, I’m more prepared!”

“I do not doubt your abilities as a cultivator, Jingyi,” Zewu-Jun agreed, “however, you are still in training, and under the jurisdiction and protection of Gusulan.”

Jingyi nodded, twiddling his fingers in his lap.

“...Forgive me if I am prying, Jingyi, and you are not obligated to answer, but you…seem as though you have something on your mind.”

The omega worried his bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn’t like Zewu-Jun, as an Alpha, could understand his torment–even if he told him about every venomous word spat at him at Mo Manor, or what that disgusting rogue cultivator did, or how he knew those words would continue to be shot towards him– it wasn’t like the man could do anything, besides assign him more chaperones.

He doubted anyone other than another omega could understand. Sizhui was trying, and his best friend was truly a pillar in his life that kept him standing when everything else crumbled away, but he was still an Alpha.

“...do you ever think the cultivation world is unfair, Zewu-Jun?” He let slip. Jingyi squeaked with mortification a second after, waving his hands frantically as his face burned, “sorry, sorry! This disciple forgets himself, don’t mind me Zewu-Jun! That was uncouth of me to say!”

Lan Xichen hid a smile behind his hand, his eyes turning up at the corners almost imperceptibly.

“Well, I did ask,” he mused, amusement dancing in his tone, “and, well, that is a very loaded question. I suppose as a cultivator, I believe there is a certain…undeniable discrimination within the politics of the cultivation world. As a human being, however, I realize that almost nothing in our lives is fair, and it is all we can do but make everything as livable and comfortable as possible, and continue on despite hardship.”

Jingyi placed a finger to his chin, pensive. His mind was turning so much he really couldn’t make sense of Zewu-Jun’s words, so he just bowed his head in silent thanks. He picked up the advertisement between two fingers and stared at the yellowish paper–the calligraphy was very admirable, whoever scribed it had a particular talent for writing.

A Yao, something that most cultivators could take care of no problem. Maybe it wasn’t the huge, life-changing assignment Jingyi had wanted to complete to prove his worth, but it was something. It was a start.

“Thank you, Zewu-Jun,” Jingyi addressed sincerely, bowing at the waist, “this one will take his leave now. Ah! I will let you know when Sizhui and I depart.”

Zewu-Jun saluted him in turn. His ever present smile grew brighter, “I enjoyed our time together, Jingyi. I have full faith in both you and Sizhui that you will complete this assignment with flying colors.”

“Where do you suppose we go first, Jingyi?”

Lan Jingyi almost could not hear his friend over the metallic bustle of the restaurant. The pair had stopped for a meal along the outskirts of the village they arrived at–Sizhui had suggested it, vetoing Jingyi’s protests that he was fine, and they could continue and eat later. The look his friend had given him left no room for arguing.

The village was quite far from Gusu. They flew on their swords for half a day. Which was annoying, but they were ready to leave by 5 am. So they arrived in the afternoon, with plenty of time to research and take action by nightfall.

Jingyi watched with gluttonous eyes as Sizhui picked all of the chicken out of his bowl and placed them on top of his vegetables. He greedily stared as the succulent sauce dripped off of the meat and into his rice.

“No talking while eating…” he murmured, starstruck. His stomach growled loudly, and he didn’t wait a moment longer before digging into his delicious meal. Sizhui, true to his uptight, Alpha-ness, waited until he had finished serving himself before starting on his own food with a fond shake of his head. Once their bowls were both empty, Jingyi drank the rest of the juice they had served him–it was so hot in the restaurant, condensation had quickly collected on the glass. Though a bit lukewarm, the fruity concoction was quite good.

“You’re always the one asking questions,” Jingyi rolled his eyes, “but, hmm. Well, we already know what we’re here for, but I suppose we should still ask around, right? I’m not sure if there is a village head here, though…”

Sizhui stacked their dishes, thanking the beta servant girl sincerely when she came to collect them and give the bill. She had blushed when the alpha smiled at her, and the girl’s gaze lingered on Jingyi for longer than he would have liked. He scowled.

When she was gone, Sizhui nodded his concurrence, “you’re right, I did not see any official Motif or flag. I believe this is a new village, or…one specifically built for trade.”

Unlike Mo Village, the village they had arrived at lacked a symbol and a house for the village head. It didn’t seem like there was any, while not totally unusual, would make their nighthunt a little more complicated because they did not have anyone official to speak to. And…freaked out villagers weren’t the best to ask for details.

“And then…after we compile enough information, we go to the place the Yao has been spotted most, right? What kind of array do we set up?”

Sizhui dug into his qiankun pouch. Jingyi watched as he took stock of the talismans he had stored.

“Well, we do not yet know how resentful the Yao is,” Sizhui explained, “and…we probably won’t know until we either come face to face with it, or if we can sense the correct level of resentful energy it has from the place the villagers say it appears the most. It mostly depends on the information we acquire. I propose a simple spirit attraction array.”

Jingyi raised an eyebrow, considering, “yeah, but, isn’t spirit attraction what got us into the mess at Mo Manor in the first place?”

Sizhui met his gaze, “do we have any other choice? I cannot think of any other array that would fit the job we’re doing, and, unless you know of another malicious arm spirit lurking in this village specifically, then…”

Jingyi snickered, “yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right. Welp,” he sighed, standing. He brushed the dust off of his legs, placing his hands on his hips, “we have better get to it, Sizhui. If we get this done quickly, maybe we’ll beat a record of sorts!”

Sizhui shook his head. Jingyi found immense satisfaction in the way his lips twitched into a helpless, fond smile. The alpha wiped dust off of his legs, smoothing down the sleeves of his robes. Jingyi watched the methodological way his hands readjusted his clothes so that not a wrinkle was out of place, quickly and efficiently.

Jingyi reached into his qiankun pouch to search for his money bag–but Sizhui’s gentle hand stopped him. He looked up at him, annoyed, but his friend’s face was contorted into something gentle, kind. It was a look he was familiar with, one that was unbothered and wholly content. He set his hand back on the table with a teasing roll of his eyes.

“Fine, fine, you pay. But, I’ll be paying next time we get a meal! Don’t try to get out of it, Sizhui,” Jingyi wagged a finger at him. Sizhui chuckled; low enough that the noise stayed between them, dancing gracefully out of the way of his teasing pokes.

“Of course, of course,” he said, “I can’t have you spending all my money, now.”

Jingyi stuck his tongue out, and they stepped out into the village ready to do their jobs.

Lan Jingyi found the village pleasantly simple. There wasn’t much glamor to it, no spectacular architecture or buildings, not even a decorated shrine. The city was made with stone pathways, corner stores, and canals that went deep into the town square. There were docks by the bay, and from the hill, they could see little dots speckling the horizon. Fishing boats. Sizhui did not look at them long, looking incredibly discomforted by all the ships out at sea. Jingyi enjoyed watching them drift along the waves; he always admired fishermen. From the ones he’d seen in Caiyi town, their job was, oddly, very difficult.

“Do you think we should split up to compile information, Sizhui? I could go ask around the boat workers and you could talk to the citizens near the outskirts of the village. You know, near the forest?” Jingyi suggested. They strode animatedly through one of the main roads, navigating it was a familiar expertise that made Jingyi appreciate Caiyi town’s craziness a little more, “I think people, like traders and the like, would be more affected by the Yao. They might know more.”

Sizhui’s brows turned down. Jingyi knew the idea of leaving him alone in such an unfamiliar place wasn’t the most appealing to the boy, but they would cover more ground that way.

“Good idea, Jingyi,” Sizhui nodded, “I will interrogate the citizens living closer to the forest. Ah, thank you for offering to go down near the waterbed, you know how I am with bodies of water…”

“Of course!” Jingyi knocked his shoulder with his own, leaning into his friend obnoxiously, until he was forced to carreen to the side. Sizhui pushed him off with a huff, “oh! Wait, when we’re done, where should we meet?”

Sizhui blinked. Tapped his cheek. Jingyi found that he didn’t mask his habits around him, as he usually did in class back at Gusu. It made something warm grow in his chest, blooming like fine flowers, “back at the restaurant? In the front? We both know where that is. One hour, alright?”

“Hell yeah! See you then! Whoever has less stuff written down buys dinner!”

The stone by the docks was wet.

His boots splashed into foamy puddles, the hems of his robes growing saturated with water and sand. Everything smelled like salt and fish–secluding any other scent from reaching his nose. All the shouting sounded like wet noise to his ears as he tried to make his way through the dense forest of people occupying the pier. Children scampered afoot and the sound of bells clanged out into the air, loud and deep and echoing across the waves.

Jingyi couldn’t help but love the energy. It crackled in the air, sending his nerves into an excited blaze.

“Sir, excuse me, gongzi!” He called, swiftly walking over to one of the smaller docks where a few men were heaving nets full of fish and crab onto the wood from their boats. They were all drenched in what could either be seawater or sweat, donned in light, dull robes. Busting laughs reached his ear as he approached, two of the younger men absorbed in their own conversation at the head of the pier, their deep masculine voices lost in pleasant talk.

The man tilted his head up and–he looked too old to be working. Skin bronzed by years under the sun, skin wrinkled deeply in his cheeks and forehead, but less around his eyes. From looking at his frown, the way his lips just seemed to pull naturally downward, Jingyi figured he didn’t smile much.

“Pah, what is it, kid? I haven’go all day,” he spat, his syllables dragging out at the end, “‘M workin’! Well, go on! Speak!”

Jingyi felt his temper flare. How rude! All he wanted to do was ask a question or two, it wouldn’t take long. He barely bit back a matching scowl and fell into a reluctant omega’s bow, “Sir, my name Is Lan Jingyi of the Gusu Lan Sect, my sectmate and I are here assisting with a–”

The man’s laughing cut him off, and Jingyi’s voice trailed into silence awkwardly. It was cruel, grating, and loud, almost like a hyenas cackle. Jingyi shot up, shame burning at his cheeks, fists balled, twitching, begging for the comforting hilt of his sword. He was doubled over, howling–and Jingyi, for the life of him, couldn’t find out what was so funny.

People looked at them oddly. Jingyi felt the back of his neck grow hot.

“Funny! Funny! A lil’ omega cultivator? From Gusu! Pah! What a damn joke! They have you here to get seduction points, sweetheart? Gods, how the cultivation world has fallen. It’s people like you and your clanmates tha’ stop omegas from bein’ our wives.”

Hot, stark white anger enveloped Jingyi’s vision–his entire body shook with the sheer audacity that man had. He hadn’t realized he was gripping his sword until it fell halfway out of his sheath. The man had the decency to look nervous at the sight of the blade, and Jingyi, swallowing down the hatred, slammed it back into its case. Blood bloomed on his tongue–he licked his lips.

He was about to say something, in defense, in anger–he had half a mind to storm up to him and pull his weapon on the disrespectful bastard, if just to see the look on his face. But then he imagined Sizhui, Hanguang-Jun–all the people he would be disappointing if he did, and he forced himself to breathe.

“A-Die, gods, don’t talk to the cultivator like that!”

One of the younger men came jogging down the dock. He sent Jingyi an apologetic glance. The sincerity stunning him so much he was reduced to flabbergasted silence, and could only watch in vague confusion as the son guided the angry father down the pier and toward the boat, the man gesticulating and stomping the entire way. It was such a sight, that almost all the anger spilt out of Jingyi all at once.

“I’m so sorry, Gongzi,” the younger man apologized once he made his way back up. He bowed at the shoulders. The man’s robes were a bit open at the front, revealing part of a well-toned, tanned chest. Jingyi would blame his flush on his anger, “my father…well, despite the furthering of our society, my father still continues to view th’ world through a cloud. Please, do not mind the words from a grumpy ole man.”

Jingyi huffed, crossing his arms. He had so many things he wanted to stay, and it was a testament to his self control and growth as a person that he kept his mouth shut for once. The nighthunt was more important than his complaints, “...Don’t worry about it, Gongzi. I am Lan Jingyi, a cultivator junior disciple of the Gusu Lan Sect, here on a nighthunt with a sectmate. If you would, do you have any information that would be beneficial for us?”

The man’s eyes brightened in understanding, and he nodded rapidly. It was a bit endearing, “ah! This is ‘bout the Yao! We’re incredibly thankful for your help, gongzi. I am so sorry for my father’s impudence…let’s see. Uh. Well. The attacks have taken place on the farms on the outskirts of the town, near th’ forest. I’ve heard from a few friends a’ mine that it’s destroyed fields of crops–even some houses.”

Jingyi took quick mental notes to write down later, nodding along with the man's story, “any deaths?”

The man’s face went slack, saddened, eyes growing dull, “yes, Gongzi. ‘Bout three people, now.”

Jingyi frowned, pity worming its way into his heart. From his reaction, Jingyi figured one of the victims had been a friend or acquaintance. However, deaths could bring resentful energy, which a Yao could absorb to become stronger–it could pose a lot of problems. But there most likely wouldn’t be any fierce corpses, if the energy was absorbed.

Jingyi smiled at the beta, falling into a bow he found that he really meant, “thank you so much! You’re a big help. Sorry to take you away from your work. Uhh…spread the word that we will be occupying the forest tonight, please!”

With that, Jingyi waved bye and turned to step up off the dock. He took one step onto the stone ledge and bumped directly into someone's chest.

Surprised, Jingyi fell backwards. For one, horrifying moment, Jingyi thought he was about to take a nose dive into the foamy ocean, but then, a hand seized him by the collar of his robes and hoisted him up and back onto solid ground in a whirlwind that left him almost light-headed and reeling.

When he finally came back to himself, Jingyi found his gaze looking directly into eyes that looked like the forest during dusk.

The mysterious boy scurried back from him apologetically, not before Jingyi could catch dark, pretty freckles splattered in random clusters all over his cheeks and nose. He had a gentle face Jingyi wasn’t used to seeing among other people–the slope of his nose slight, cheek bones soft in his features, chin curved and round. Oddly enough, he also had short hair–it was tied half up half down in a bun that was on its way to falling out of the haphazardly knotted deep green ribbon.

His robes looked like cultivator robes–not too luxurious, not too dull, a nice, midtone green with darker accents. There were leaves climbing the hems of his outer robe sewed in golden thread, a single, simple ornament hanging from his belt.

“I’m so sorry! So sorry! I–I wasn’t looking where I was going, and you distracted me a little because your…really…pre…tty?” He exclaimed, voice growing quieter and quieter until it was a questionable little squeak.

Confused and a little wary, Jingyi took half a step back. He found himself looking at what he had clutched in his other hand–between his fingers were flowers. They were a vibrant orange, with that looked to be like fifteen or so petals each.

“...Thanks? And, uh, thanks for saving me from flying into the ocean. I really didn’t want to smell like fish for the rest of the day. What are you holding?”

The boy flushed, a pretty red flooding the area around his cheeks and across his nose. He smiled bashfully, running his fingers through the petals and glancing at Jingyi from underneath his eyelashes, “of course! It was my fault for bumping into you, really. And these are Calendulas! They smell nice and make your skin smoother if you put the petals into your bath and let them sit for a while! Do you…want them?”

“I would love them. Consider it your payment after almost knocking me into the ocean,” Jingyi asserted, making grabby hands. A bath with nice smelling flowers sounded amazing, and it would be just what he needed after a long day of dealing with assholes and fighting Yao, “thanks!”

Jingyi tucked them carefully away into his qiankun pouch, grinning. Sizhui would be so jealous he didn’t get a flower bath.

“Aiya! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m so rude…ugh! Gongzi!” The boy fell into a bow, ending at the shoulders. Jingyi could tell he was a beta as soon as they were in the same promiscuity–he had a very loud but pleasant scent of chrysanthemum and chestnut ink, “my name is Ouyang Zizhen, sole heir to the Ouyang Baling Sect, at your service.”

Ouyang Baling sounded familiar, but Jingyi couldn’t say he had heard of it. So far, though, Zizhen was bringing up his expectations for heirs, “nice to meet you, Ouyang-Gongzi! My name is Lan Jingyi, junior disciple of the Gusu Lan Sect.”

Zizhen lit up–when he smiled, full bodied and bright, it seemed like his entire being bloomed under the midday sun, his eyes reflecting gold in endless depths of forest green, “Please, Zizhen is fine! Calling me that makes me feel old and formal…and you must be here to vanquish the Yao, then! I’m here for that, as well. Aha…but of course, I won’t be in your way if you wish to complete it by yourself.”

Jingyi, oddly happy about that, grinned at him. The more the merrier, honestly, and Zizhen seemed like a fun guy to be around–he was sure Sizhui wouldn’t mind. Sure, his friend might scope the newcomer out, might be a little pissy for a bit until he could trust him, but Jingyi was sure it would be fine. Zizhen was the son of a Sect Leader, no doubt trained in etiquette, and his scent was too honest for him to have any ill intentions. From the way his flowerful fragrance blossomed after the omega introduced himself, Jingyi could tell he was just a good man.

He didn’t meet many people like that.

“In that case, you can call me Jingyi as well! A sect mate and I were assigned on this nighthunt,” Jingyi explained, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you came along! If you want to, of course. It’s more fun night hunting with other people.”

Zizhen wilted, clasping his hands together, “if you would have me! Ah, I came here to get away from my father and my lessons for a bit…but, it does get lonely without my sectmates here to keep me company.”

People were giving them looks. Jingyi realized that they were kind of…in the way. He grabbed Zizhen’s wrist and pulled him through the crowd, almost careening into the side of an alleyway. Zizhen, despite almost tripping over his own feet, went without complaint, hastily yelling out sorry! And excuse me! While Jingyi could not be bothered to.

When they could finally come to a leisure stop, they fell into step with each other.

“Yeah, yeah! Don’t worry about it. And, not to fret, I think my friend will like you. By the way, you're a Sect Heir, did your family really let you come here alone? Like, without a guard?”

Zizhen rubbed the back of his neck, “ah, please don’t tell anyone I told you this, Jingyi, but…my father doesn’t really know I’m here. Yet. I left a note! And my older sisters know, they’re the ones that helped me sneak out. And I won’t be noticed for a while, don't worry about it! When he does find out, my mother will hopefully be able to keep him calm until I return.”

“...I can’t believe I kidnapped a Sect Heir,” Jingyi mused, “Sizhui’s gonna flip.”

His comrade laughed nervously, and Jingyi cocked his head to the side, “wait. Did you say sisters?”

 Zizhen blushed very easily, Jingyi found, “yes…I have a lot of sisters. A lot.”

“I feel like I’m going to regret asking this. But. How many?”

“...Eight. And I think I have another one on the way.”

“No way–!” Jingyi exploded. He didn’t have one sibling, and his younger sect mates were annoying enough! He couldn’t imagine having eight! And all sisters! It was insane! Jingyi bounced around Zizhen, waving his hands, “and you're the only guy? Holy shit, dude.”

“It’s not so bad! Though–four of my sisters are omegas, so it gets a little heated–wait, bad wording–it gets a little tense every couple of months, but they’re all very caring people. My…littlest sister recently presented as an Alpha, and now that she has fangs she likes to bite me when I don’t give her extra desserts…”

Jingyi snorted before he could help it–laughing so loudly his voice bounced off of the tall walls of the alley, “you get mauled by a tiny alpha child? Zizhen!”

Zizhen sputtered, embarrassed but smiling, “she’s scary! Jingyi, I swear, she’s a little demon! She’s so scary!”

Their giggles tapered off, and Jingyi let the comfortable silence wrap around him like a blanket. He looked up–the sky was clear, not a cloud across the blue scape of the horizon, the unfiltered rays of the sun shining down onto their faces, their hair, warming their skin.

“Wow…” Jingyi murmured, “four omegas in one family? I’ve never heard that before. Omegas are rare already. I’m the only training omega cultivator in the Cloud Recesses! The other two are apprentice healers. I don’t see other omegas a lot, so to hear that four of your sisters are is mind blowing!”

Zizhen blinked at him. His eyes were wide, doe-ish and curious, “the only…woah, I heard that Gusu was known for producing alphas, but I didn’t know that the omega rate was the exact opposite. It must be lonely, sometimes.”

Jingyi kicked at the stones on the ground. A tuft of dust rose up around his foot. It stained the toe of his boot.

“Yeah, it does,” Jingyi murmured, avoiding the beta’s eyes, “I have Sizhui, though. I can’t wait for you to meet him!”

Zizhen, Jingyi figured out, was the easiest person to get along with. He was agreeable and fun, he nodded along with everything Jingyi said, and matched his enthusiasm when he got excited. The beta listened without distraction, without interrupting until he was done speaking. And he liked romance novels! As soon as he brought up The Tale of Twin Blades, Jingyi’s current favorite book, they had talked about it nonstop. In the back of his mind, Jingyi knew Sizhui would be a tad bit disappointed in the information he had managed to scrounge up and stopped in favor of talking about character and themes with another fan of the series, but between him and Zizhen, they had enough. Maybe. Probably. Plus, Sizhui was always on top of everything.

For the time they were together, time went by in a blur–he wasn’t aware of the sky growing a darker blue, of the sun falling closer to the west. They talked, and talked, and talked, situated at a little corner table in the restaurant, their scents sweetly warming the air, until the familiar scent of the mountains flooded his senses. His omega jumped up immediately, pounding against his ribcage, and Jingyi whipped around to search for Sizhui.

His eyes landed on gold first, and, like a fruit being left under the sun, his mood immediately soured.

Jin Ling was taller than the last time they met. Still lanky in that new, just beginning to grow into his features look, but slowly filling out–instead of hanging loosely around his body, Jingyi could spot the places his robes clung to the slight, beginning muscles along his crossed arms and chest. Shoulders a bit broader, he had lost most of the baby fat in his cheeks. His expression still looked as pinched as ever, fine brows furrowed into an ever-present scowl.

Being him, the soft sky after a ferocious storm, came Sizhui.

Jingyi directed his question to his friend, pointedly ignoring Jin Ling’s entire presence, “what the hell is he doing here, Sizhui?”

Zizhen leaned closer to him, wide-eyed, “you know the Jin heir?” he whispered harshly.

“Unfortunately,” Jingyi bit out, rolling his eyes, “I had the displeasure of meeting the Young Mistress on a night hunt a while ago, on Dafan mountain. Last time I saw him he was running away with his tail between his legs after Sect Leader Jiang.”

Zizhen looked, frankly, scandalized he spoke about the Jin Sect Heir that way, eyes widened comically large on his gentle features, thick brows climbing high into his forehead. Being an Heir himself, he was no doubt regaled with stories of the Jin Sect’s famous ability to take disrespect to heart. Jingyi, however, didn’t care, and Jin Ling may be the textbook definition of a brat, but he wasn’t the type of person to get them in trouble with his Sect Elders over a little teasing.

(Well. Maybe. He sure hoped not, he would feel bad for the headache that situation would give Zewu-Jun.)

Sizhui’s eyes snapped over to Zizhen, narrowing slightly, almost imperceptible. To any other, he would look like he was shielding his eyes from the sun pouring in through the windows. To Jingyi, he looked pissy and untrusting. Jingyi glared at him. Sizhui found his gaze and his face softened, “my apologies, Jingyi. I met Sect Heir Jin Ling while gathering information on the outskirts of the village. I told him we were night hunting and after learning he was also…traveling, I invited him to join us. Of course, if it’s alright with you, but I see you also…”

“Brought company,” Jingyi finished Sizhui’s sentence for him, nudging Zizhen’s shoulder with an elbow, “yeah, sure, whatever. Nice to see you again, Young Mistress–” Jingyi pointedly ignored Jin Ling’s offended squawking, “glad to see you didn’t get mauled by your uncle. This is Zizhen! He saved me from falling into the pier.”

“You almost fell into the pier?” Both the Alphas asked at once, one noticeably more angry than the other. They stared at each other for a long, drawn out second. Zizhen put a hand over his mouth to disguise his amusement. Jingyi had no such qualms and snorted.

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I bumped into him. For someone so skinny, you’re pretty bouncy, Zizhen.”

The beta, no longer able to hide his laughter, giggled into his hands. His laughter sounded like soft chimes, light and airy but ringing with pureness and life.

“Aiya, sorry, sorry, this omega here is a comedian, pardon me! Sect Heir Jin, Lan-gongzi, my name is Ouyang Zizhen, the heir to the Ouyang Baling Sect. It is a pleasure to meet you both, please allow me to accompany you on your night hunt!” Zizhen stood, bowed at the shoulders, hands clutched gracefully in front of him. When he came up from his salute, he clasped them together, fingers outstretched, “I would be really thankful!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ouyang-Gongzi. Of course you’re welcomed! It’s only fair, and the more help we receive, the better chance we have at ridding the town of the problem.”

Zizhen flushed, eyes darting away. He rubbed the back of his neck, “just Zizhen is fine! Like I told Jingyi, I don’t mind…”

Sizhui smiled at him, and that time, it was Jingyi’s turn to be surprised–his friend normally didn’t warm up to people easily. He was cordial, polite, as their upbringing demanded them to be, but in terms of strangers, it took him a while to release himself from the walls he raised. Always fiercely protective, not just of Jingyi, but of Hanguang-Jun–Jingyi has vivid memories of a little Sizhui glaring at people getting too close to his dad while out at Caiyi town. Of course, the Alpha’s jealousy was always adorable, but getting older never stopped his fickleness with people he didn’t know. He never warmed up to anyone that quickly, except maybe Jingyi himself. But, then again, Zizhen just had that aura about him–warm, friendly, safe. Jingyi felt at ease next to him, which was odd within itself. Maybe it was because of his peaceful scent, of the fact he was scent marked by all his omegan sisters, or maybe that was just the type of person he was.

As Jin Ling drew closer, sitting down across from them, and immediately, Jingyi could tell he matured. His scent had deepened, no longer carrying that lighter, juvenile alpha fragrance. It  gained a muskier, domineering undertone that laid in pleasant stagnancy in the air around them, filling the atmosphere with the airy scent of peonies, the sour of juniper, and a slight tang of concentrated cinnamon–it was a very attractive scent.

“I see you matured. Only physically, though, mentally…hmm…” Jingyi quipped.

“Speak for yourself, your damn scent is so sweet I could smell you from a mile away, Lan Jingyi. I’m surprised your fragrance alone isn’t rotting the teeth of everyone in here!” Jin Ling shot back.

“Now, now,” Sizhui placated, taking a swift seat beside the other alpha, “A-Ming, are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Jingyi declined with a shake of his head, leveling his gaze onto Jin Ling once more, “what are you even doing here, anyway? You couldn’t have matured long ago, you would think a Sect as prominent in the Cultivation world as Lanling Jin would keep their Heir in their homeland for a while before sending him out all on his lonesome.”

Sizhui leveled the heir with a sideways glance. Jin Ling sank down in his seat, embarrassment and reluctance stark red in his cheeks, “that’s–! Well–! I…just wanted to nighthunt! I’m a training cultivator, after all. And you couldn’t have matured long ago, too! So you have no room to talk!”

“My first heat was hell,” Jingyi refuted, watching with smugness as Jin Ling’s face burned brighter at the mention of a heat, “I’m allowed leisure time after something as horrible as that! Gusu couldn’t keep me there if they tried!”

“Ohhhh,” Zizhen chimed in, “I get it! They must be smothering you, huh, Jin-Gongzi! I get it, I get it, night hunting is such a good way to let off steam. Ah…my family is so used to me leaving to go on a night hunt after a fight or a huge test they barely ask where I was anymore…”

“I don’t have any steam to blow off! What do you know, beta!?”

Jingyi and Zizhen shared a look. Before they could help it, the pair burst into laughter. Jin Ling slammed his hands into the table, Sizhui looked fondly exasperated, looking over them with tolerable amusement.

“Alright, alright,” Sizhui sighed. He pulled out a scroll from his Qiankun pouch. It rolled open across the table, and the alpha’s prim, perfect handwriting appeared onto the white expanse, “shall we compare information?”

The atmosphere leveled into something more serious as they traded what they had found out. Jingyi told Sizhui what the man at the docks told him, purposely leaving out how he was verbally berated by an old man. Jin Ling, surprisingly, had some good intell on exact dates and times of the attacks, and he was extremely proud telling them about it–how he got them, Jingyi wasn’t sure. Zizhen, unsurprisingly, had confessed he had got distracted at a flower shop for a good few hours, and had failed to acquire anything noteworthy. Jin Ling’s scent had bloomed, and he snorted so hard Jingyi was surprised the sound even came from his mouth–so dumbfounded, Jingyi couldn’t help laughing, too.

(“Was that supposed to be a laugh!?”

“Yes! So what!?”

“It’s so–so not what a Sect Heir’s laugh should sound like!”

“And!? That’s how I laugh, you annoying little omega!”

Even Sizhui had a hand over his mouth, eyes suspiciously turned up at the corners.)

When the town had been shrouded in darkness, the moon standing high and clear in the sparkling sky–they had made their move. In a clearing just before thick forest rose up into thick, impenetrable shrubbery, where the field of tall grass was ticklish and soft against their legs, Jin Ling and Zizhen worked hard scribing spirit-attraction arrays, while Jingyi and Sizhui set the array up.

They came to a unanimous, simple plan. Attract the Yao with an array, vanquish it, save the day.

It was different from Dafan Mountain. The air was alight with anticipation, sparking with electricity–but it wasn’t fearful, more like uncontained excitement. There wasn’t a reason to fear for their lives, there wasn’t any fierce spirit-arm a higher level than they could handle, no homicidal Goddess statue hidden deep within the landscape. It was them, doing a low-leveled nighthunt, acting like the Juniors they were–anticipatory, nervous, but not scared. They would finally be able to do what they were trained to do, without the watchful eye of a senior disciple, or an elder. Exhilarating, not exactly new, but it set their bodies alight all the same.

When there were lines of orange still peaking over the horizon, Sizhui’s eyes were pools of nerves. While Jin Ling and Zizhen were engaged in a one-sided argument on how to correctly write and insulting the other’s handwriting, he took the Alpha’s hand in his and made him look at him.

“What happened last time won’t happen again,” he had said, because Sizhui was annoying like that, always wearing unnecessary weight on his shoulders, holding the burden himself. Because Sizhui was the oldest junior, the eldest Alpha, and the technical leader of their ragtag group, and he was so good, so righteous, his heart couldn’t help but mourn for things that weren’t his fault, “we’re pretty competent, Sizhui! And you’re here, so we’ll be okay. Stop worrying, you’ll get wrinkles!”

And of course, not regarding a few small hiccups, their nighthunt went on without a hitch.

The Yao wasn’t very big–Jingyi had seen some way bigger on group nighthunts with his classes, huge, hulking creatures with legs as thick as old tree trunks, teeth that glinted white under the stars, fur so black it melded in with the shadows. They were fairly common, not too heinous it would send most regular people running, but it was the resentful energy that made them dangerous. Yao’s were creatures that thrived off of death, absorbed it from the ground, remnants of anger soaked into their fur. Their deep howls reached the deepest corners of the heavens, resonating deep in your bones–their voices always, without fail, made your heart run cold. It approached slowly, one stalking leg after another, body crouched low to the ground. The red of its eyes were rubies under the moon.

Jingyi and Sizhui were used to fighting together, they practically grew up back to back, from holding wooden swords to the silver handles of their spirit blades. They sparred together routinely, knew each other’s quirks and weak spots, how to communicate swiftly and, sometimes, silently. Jin Ling and Zizhen, however, were not–and they had no idea how to fight with them either. The midst of battle wasn’t a great time to learn, but it sure as hell would make them learn quickly.

Sizhui and Zizhen liked to remain in front, charging at the beat and maintaining an offensive standpoint–so they knocked into each other at least five times before they figured out a rhythm. Jingyi didn’t really care what he did, defensive or offensive, as long as he got to fight–however, with Sizhui and Zizhen battling so close to the beast, he didn’t have a choice but to remain behind and throw talismans. Which. Was a problem. Because Jin Ling was behind him shooting arrows. Though his archery was accurate and kinda made Jingyi want to try using his bow on the battlefield, Jingyi couldn’t take his eyes off the Yao, which made Jin Ling yell at him to get the hell out of the way when he accidentally strayed into his path.

(They separated when Jin Ling almost nicked Jingyi with an arrow.)

Zizhen was flung back like a flying disk by the Yao at one point. Sizhui had to catch him, and he managed to wrap his arms around him mid-movement before the poor beta could slam his head into a tree trunk, the two disappearing into a blur of white and green. However, that sent Sizhui sprawling and rolling across the grass when they separated. Jingyi found it hilarious, until it made he and Jin Ling work together for a solid minute before they two could get their bearings and get back into battle.

Nobody was maimed, and they vanquished the yao. So it was a relative success.

There was sweat beading down Jingyi’s temple. His muscles ached with a pleasant, after-battle burn, legs almost jello. He knew his forehead ribbon was crooked, but couldn’t be bothered to fix it, enjoying the victory as the four of them stood over the body of the Yao, which was dissipating into the air in black, floating ashes, the still beast fading before their eyes. His shoulder ached, and he winced–there would be a helluva bruise, later.

Zizhen trotted up to him, his beta-scent buzzing and ecstatic, “wow, Jingyi, wow! I’ve heard such good things about the cultivators of the Lan Sect, but wow! I’ve never seen disciples so graceful! And the way you two fight,” he looked off to Sizhui, who approached silently. There was a purpling bruise underneath his eye, dirt staining his chin, “it’s incredible! You two fit seamlessly together! I’ve never met people so…so in sync!”

Jingyi pinkened under the attention. His heart pattered loudly in his chest, so fast he was almost light-headed with happiness. Tugging at his collar, Jingyi shuffled his feet, bashful.

“Jingyi has always been an incredible cultivator,” Sizhui said. Jingyi’s face was on fire–he was sure the shade of red could be compared to Jin Ling’s vermillion mark, “people have predisposed ideas about him because of his status, and those that do have never seen him in battle, or on the archery field.”

“Sizhui!” Jingyi exclaimed–he couldn’t take anymore praises; his heart was doing happy little flips, “you’re embarrassing me! Uhm, but–Thank you, Zizhen!! Sizhui’s great too, you know! Did you see how he avoided all of those attacks? He’s so fast and focused!”

Zizhen’s bright eyes turned to Sizhui, whose ears were a tad bit pink, “I did, I did! So cool, Lan-Gongzi!”

Jingyi noticed Jin Ling lagging behind them, looking amusingly out of his element. There was a spot of red on his hairline–not the vermillion mark, but a drying drop of blood.

“Hey, Young Mistress, what happened to you?” He called, making his way over to the Alpha. There was a shallow cut on his forehead, sluggishly leaking, a dollop of blood sliding down his cheek, painting a stark red line. Before he could think, an urge to help, to heal the Alpha flooded his sentences, and Jingyi reached up, resting his finger by the cut, the barest, softest touch. Right as a warm spark of his spiritual energy met Jin Ling’s skin, he grasped his arm and Jingyi froze, a disgruntled apology on the tip of his tongue.

“You’ll–you’ll waste your spiritual energy, dumbass,” he grunted, pink, “and it’s not your job to heal me! It’s ours to heal y–I mean, nevermind!”

Jingyi snorted, crossing his arms. Sighing, he reached into his Qiankun pouched and grabbed a handkerchief–it was one of his nicer ones, silk, with fine, embroidered leaves decorating the sides. He liked it because it was soft and didn’t scratch his face when he washed it, “at least wipe the blood off, idiot! Before it drips on your robes!”

Jin Ling rolled his eyes, snatched the handkerchief and rose it to his face and–froze.

Impatient, still eyeing the blood, Jingyi snapped, “what!?”

“...it smells like you,” Jin Ling replied, quiet.

“Is that a problem?” Jingyi shot back, tapping his foot. Jin Ling appeared to come back into himself, eyes widening, darting away.

“Of–of course not!” Without looking back at him, he roughly wiped the blood off of his cheek, his face, dabbed the wetness over the cut until it came back streaked and dotted with red. Jingyi watched, as, before his eyes, a scab stretched over the open skin.

“I’m not giving you a bloodied handkerchief. I’ll give it back to you when I wash it,” Jin Ling asserted, nose in the air. Jingyi stared at him, unimpressed.

Zizhen appeared behind him, slinging a long arm around an unsuspecting Jin Ling’s neck. The alpha dipped down, squawking like a bird, caught off guard and stumbling off balance. Sizhui, a gentle breeze following a whirlwind, calmly walked behind him.

“What the hell–”

“Jin-Gongzi! You were amazing too! I’ve heard rumors about your prowess in the art of archery, but seeing it firsthand amazes me! Incredible! You never miss a mark, waah, if only I had as amazing of an eye for aim as you…then my father would stop badgering me to practice more…”

“Oh, get off–!

Zizhen was shaken off with a laugh, flinching away from Jin Ling’s sleeve as he batted at him. Jingyi smelled Sizhui behind him, his scent washing over him, calming the remnants of adrenaline shaking at his fingers. His gentle hands found his neck, and Jingyi wanted to fall limp, to huddle into the alpha’s chest, purr, and fall asleep safely guarded in his embrace. Jingyi’s face heated at the thought, mentally berating his omega, and it took a lot in him to stay standing.

Sizhui scented him lightly, unconsciously, his hand gliding lightly over his neck, “are you alright, A-Ming?”

“Just tired,” Jingyi gazed at him from over his shoulder, “you?”

“Perfectly fine,” Sizhui smiled, his hands pulling away. Jingyi’s throat convulsed around a barely constrained whine, “we should get back to the inn, hmm? It’s…probably past nine.”

A wave of fatigue hit Jingyi like a horse wagon. He slumped forward, “...yeah, it’s definitely past nine.”

“You guys really go to bed at nine? Such discipline, I’m always up until the new day, at least…” Murmured Zizhen.

“I already have a room at an inn,” Jin Ling's voice sounded in front of him. The two had stopped their play fighting, and looked considerably calm, “I can probably get us a pack room, though.”

“Ah, Jin Ling, we can pay for our own–”

“Shut up. You Lans, ugh. We nighthunted together! I can pay for a room for you to stay in. And if we’re going to head out together anyway, it would make more sense. Tch.”

Jingyi brightened. He never stayed in a pack room–they were rooms available at inns specifically for packs, with a larger room for meals and community, but two separate ones off of that–one for the Alphas and Betas, one for any unmated omegas. They could also be used for traveling groups of clans of rogue cultivators, but they were technically made for packs. He had never stayed in one before! It would be like a sleep over.

Sizhui tilted his head, curious, “who said we’re heading out together?”

At that, Jin Ling blushed brightly. He stuttered, not having an answer, and Jingyi chuckled.

“Why, Young Mistress, you have another nighthunt to go to?”

Jin Ling scowled at him, “there’s one in Langya I was planning to head to next. You can come if you want.”

Zizhen smiled, “I’m in! More time away from home is always a blessing.”

“Same!’ Jingyi agreed, “I want as much time away from Master Qiren’s quizzes as possible!”

“Jingyi…” Sizhui reproached, frowning.

Jingyi grabbed his friend sleeve, peering up at him through his lashes. For good measure, he pouted, “c’monnn, Sizhui! Zewu-Jun said we have a week at most, it’s only been two and a half days! We have time! You can even send a butterfly to Zewu-Jun to let him know!”

Sizhui, as he always did, melted under his begging, giving in with an exasperated sigh, “alright, alright. Young Master Jin, thank you for the invitation. We would be delighted to join.”

“Jin Ling,” the other alpha blurted. An immediate, twisted expression of regret came over his features, but he blew out a tuft of air and soldered on in a strained voice, “Jin Ling is…is fine. You can call me that. Ugh.”

“Still, though, Jingyi and I are perfectly capable of pitching in for the rooms–”

“I said it’s fine! Aren’t Lan disciples supposed to listen!?”

“Yeah, Sizhui! Don’t doubt Lanling Jin’s ability to spend money! Let the mistress pay!”

If you ever told Jingyi that the bratty, bitchy, petty heir of the pretentious Jin Clan had a fluffy, salt and pepper dog with the biggest, cutest eyes in the world and the fluffiest coat known to man– he would have laughed in your face. Had he been asked, which he hadn’t, but Jingyi was never one to hold his tongue in the most dire of circumstances– he would have said Jin Ling was probably more of a cat person. Jingyi would bet money that given the ability, the Heir would hiss at someone. Also, they were both just genuinely pissy creatures, glaring at everything and everyone with a pair of the most judgemental eyes. Cats and Jin Ling were really one of a kind, so it came as a breathtaking surprise that a prickly boy had a weak spot for dogs.

“Jin Ling,” Jingyi mock whispered, eyes locked onto the animal whose fluffy tail was currently swinging wildly across the floor. Like an adorable broom, “is that your dog?

The Alpha stood in the doorway, the sliding screen pulled open. He would have melded into the shadows of the hallway if not for the gold adorned on his uniform, the lanterns flickering just outside the door, sending streaks of yellow into the room–his face was severe under the harsh light, highlighting the sharp cuts of his features. The scowl on his lips returned at full force.

The dog looked friendly enough, but obedient, sitting excitedly by Jin Ling’s legs. On her coat she wore a brown saddle with gold trimmings–there was a leather pocket on the side sewn with white thread in the shape of a bloomed peony, a golden button pinning the satchel closed.

“Her name is Fairy,” Jin Ling harrumphed. Fairy wagged her tail even faster, “she’s not just any dog, either! She’s a spiritual dog.”

Behind him, Zizhen snorted, “Fairy? What an adorable name! I didn’t expect someone like you to name a dog something so cute!”

“Shut up! What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Zizhen placated, holding his hands up. Sizhui dipped low to hide a smile, Jingyi laughed at the sight, “it’s just. I’d expect her name to be something like…valor! Or daredevil! Something cool, you know?”

Jin Ling’s face darkened, “I would never give Fairy a name as unoriginal as daredevil.”

Jingyi broke into gut-busting laughs, holding his stomach. He fell back with a thump, wiping fake tears from his eyes, “baha! Young Mistress, you’re such a dork! Now, let me pet your dog!”

Raising up onto his elbow, Jingyi made grabby hands with his other arm toward Fairy. The dog’s tongue was hanging out, and she looked up to her owner with beseeching eyes. Jin Ling could only be described as petulant, his lower lip jutted out in an angry pout. Jingyi watched with mild horror as the Alpha slowly smiled. He didn’t smile easily–Jingyi couldn’t remember seeing him smile at all, and though it was handsome on his features, it was sharp and filled him with a specific type of dread.

“Fairy,” Jin Ling said, pointing at Jingyi, “get him.”

A protest didn’t have a second’s time to scream out a protest before a heavy, fluffed and happy weight careened into his chest, sending him back onto the ground. He scrambled, sputtering, feeling oddly like an ant under a boot, as she licked all over his face with an over excited, slobbery tongue. Over his nose, his clenched eyes, even his ear when he tried to turn his head into the floor to escape it.

“Wait, wait! Ohmygod Fairy–! That tickles! Jin Ling!! Jin Ling!! Call off your fat dog!” Jingyi giggled, screaming. He could feel her tail rapidly swishing over his torso.

“Fairy isn’t fat!” Jin Ling shot back.

A moment later, the dog was taken off of him, leaving Jingyi in a slobbery hellscape on the floor. She didn’t protest as arms lifted her up, tail simply continuing to go as her face turned up to find another face to lick.

Sizhui laughed as her tongue made contact with his cheek, looking delighted as his fingers sank into her fur. His expression was so cute, open and genuine and overflowing with childlike wonder. It made Jingyi unreasonably happy.

Zizhen was laughing at him from behind his friend. The backstabbing traitor.

“Now, now,” the other Alpha sighed, setting Fairy back onto the ground. She immediately burrowed into the cushions strewn across the floor with a pleased little huff, “it’s late, and we don’t want to cause any commotion for the others in the inn.”

True to his word, Jin Ling was able to procure them a pack room. By the time they arrived and checked in, it was a little after nine. Jingyi wanted to bathe, Sizhui had to draft a message for Zewu-Jun, and, according to Jin Ling, they needed to leave before daybreak if they wanted to make it to Langya before nightfall.

“Sorry, Sizhui,” Jingyi yawned. His eyelids were unbelievably heavy, fatigue laying in heavy weights along every joint in his body. Everything in him begged for sleep, but he knew he would hate himself in the morning if he didn’t take a bath.

Jin Ling rolled his eyes and took a seat by Zizhen. The lithe boy spread out across the cushions, folding his arms behind his head, caramel hair spread out like a spider web beneath him, “whatever. Lan Jingyi, I ordered your bath.”

“Thanks,” Jingyi murmured. A moment later, a few beta servants came in, carrying a bathtub. Jingyi brightened at the sight, thanking them when they placed it behind the privacy screen on the far side of the room. He got up and paused–why was he so okay with taking a bath with two people he barely knew in the room? The only barrier separating them being a privacy screen. He supposed he could move it into the omega’s room, but…it was pretty small–because, yay, gender inequity–so he doubted it could fit through the door frame. He glanced back at Sizhui and the others–his best friend sat perfectly by a portable desk, a calligraphy brush in hand. Zizhen had a book open on his lap, Jin Ling purposely keeping his eyes anywhere but Jingyi’s general direction, face a bit red.

When Sizhui saw him approaching the bath, he stared at him. After a second, he tilted his head, brows furrowed a margin. Jingyi smiled, and watched as his face evened and he turned to level a dark-eyed gaze toward the other two occupants, shifting so his body was directly in the line of movement between them and the privacy screen.

Jingyi fondly rolled his eyes, a pleased blush rising to his cheeks. Sizhui, so damned protective.

Behind the patterned screen, the bath was steaming–the vapor dancing to the air and dissipating in a slow waltz. Jingyi, remembering the flowers Zizhen gave him–but not the name–, took them out of his Qiankun pouch and speckled the petals across the undisturbed layer of water on top. They drifted away from each other. He let them sit for a few minutes, bouncing on the tips of his toes.

The omega stripped himself of his robes one by one, slightly awkward, slightly hesitant, solely because he could feel the presence of the others in the room–their breathing, their scents stagnant in the air, the sound of bristles against an ink stone, the crisp turn of a page. Oddly, he wasn’t uncomfortable per se. He knew Sizhui would protect him, knew the other two wouldn’t try anything, Sizhui guarding him like a protective maiden regardless. He didn’t know why he was so trusting, though, he always had the tendency to see the best in people.

Jingyi did not take off his collar.

Like this, living domesticality in their little inn room–they felt like a pack. It was a fancy thought to entertain.

Jingyi crooned as his body slipped into the bath, happy trills emerging from his throat. The warm water felt wonderful on his sore muscles, soothing out the aches and pains the longer he soaked. He rested his head against the rim of the bathtub, cheek squished up by the material, knees cradled against his chest. Water cooled on his face, warmth setting an ineffable lethargicness into his body–his bones felt too heavy and weighed down his limbs, too hefty to move.

The low murmur of familiar voices lulled him into a pleased, blissed-out state. He could feel nothing but the water, smell nothing but their scents, mingling pleasantly in the atmosphere–mountains covered in fields of peonies and chrysanthemum, chestnut ink and cinnamon pine. They fit so beautifully together, submerged his mind into that compliant, submissive headspace he usually dreaded–but felt he didn’t mind, safe beneath the enrapture of their fragrance.

In the midst of it all, Jingyi wondered where his scent fit in.

“...Jingyi?”

Jingyi’s eyes opened slowly, blinking leisurely. The sudden light hurt his eyes.

“Hmm?” He hummed, straightening.

“I asked if you ever read The Broken Heart of Two! I’m rereading it now for…like…the fifth time, maybe? My sister introduced me to it, it’s one of her favorites, as it is mine! Ah, I can never get enough of the writing! It’s so beautiful!”

That brought Jingyi into awareness. He smiled, “I love that book! You’re right! I’ve never read such descriptive writing before, the author really takes it to another level. Aiya…but the story, it’s so sad! That poor omega…what happened to her alpha…thinking about it makes me want to cry! That’s why I prefer stories like The Tale of Twin Swords! I read The Broken Heart of Two’s conclusion the night before my classes. It was a mistake!”

“I’ve never heard of those,” Sizhui chimed in, “you should let me read them, A-Ming.”

Jingyi blushed. Despite the fact they couldn’t see it, he sank into the water to hide it.

“You read romance novels?” Jin Ling snorted. Was it bad that Jingyi could envision the exact scowl he had? Probably, “of course you do. I bet you’re just waiting for the perfect Alpha to come sweep you off your feet and carry you away into the sunset.”

The omega straightened in indignation, “what’s wrong with wanting to be courted properly, huh!? It’s not bad to want a nice alpha that doesn’t view me as a baby making machine!”

“Hush, you two,” Sizhui voiced, exasperated, “and nothing is wrong with that, A-Ming. I…I’m sure you’ll find a wonderful Alpha one day.”

A brief hint of sadness infected the Alpha’s scent–it was so brief, so small, and disappeared within the confines of a brief instant, but still shook Jingyi to his core. He hated when Sizhui was sad, hated when he tried to hide it, and he frowned; wondering what had made him sad all of a sudden.

Ah. He must miss Hanguang-Jun, of course!

There was quiet on the other end, an odd edge to the silence that had Jingyi impatient and lost because he couldn’t see their expressions. After it stretched on for too long, Jingyi decided to speak up again.

“...thank you, A-Yuan. I hope so too.”

“Oh! Jingyi, you should let me do your hair!”

The omega froze. His skin still pink from the bath, hair damp and hanging limp over his shoulders and down his back–he couldn’t dress in his night robes, not with a beta present and especially not with two alphas present, so he had to put his day clothes back on. However, he had the foresight to wear the clean, spare robes he packed, since he had already bathed.

Jingyi thought about it, decided his body was too tired to work his hair into a do-able braid, and said, “sure. Just. Don’t touch my ribbon, or else.”

Zizhen’s face brightened so much it felt like the sun had risen again, directly into their room.

The beta’s hands were gentle and experienced as they gathered strands of his hair and twisted them. Gently scraping over the crown of his head, brushing through light knots with his fingers and larger ones with Jingyi’s simple, wooden comb. His movements were rhythmic and soothing, lulling Jingyi once again into a dreamy, fluffy state of mind–like his brain was melting on clouds. He fell back into the betas chest and purred, not aware enough to be embarrassed. Zizhen’s movements didn’t stall–vaguely, Jingyi thought it was probably because of his sisters.

Jingyi imagined him with a tiny omegan child in his lap, braiding her hair and smiled.

Sizhui’s scent got closer, and Jingyi unconsciously turned toward him, the rumbling of his chest growing louder until it seemed to vibrate his entire being.

“Do–do you always do that when someone brushes your hair?” Jin Ling asked. Jingyi peaked an eye open–the alpha’s face was flushed, staring at him with curious eyes. When he saw him looking, he schooled his face into an ugly frown.

“What? Purr? Not just when someone brushes my hair, no,” Jingyi rolled his eyes, voice slightly slurred, shrugging, “did they ever teach you omegas in your classes, Young Mistress?”

“Of course they do!” Jin Ling refuted, crossing his arms, “I’ve just–never…heard one.”

Sizhui frowned, “are there…really not any omegas in Jinlintai?”

“Not any training ones,” the other Alpha groused. His eyes darted to Jingyi and away, grimacing, “unlike in the Cloud Recesses or the other two sects, omegas aren’t allowed to train to become cultivators in Jinlintai. Xiao JiuJiu had been trying to get rid of the rule for a while…but it isn’t necessarily high in public opinion right now. I’ve only known one omega, and it was that lunatic Mo Xuanyu! He was brought in even though he couldn’t legally cultivate because Xiao JiuJiu felt bad, and look where that got him!”

There was anger, indignation, a rising ball of fury growing in his chests, constricting his lungs and burning his veins–Nan Lian spoke of Jinlintai with a righteous anger that went unmatched. She spat vitriol for every Jin, ranting for hours when the subject was brought up–she never said anything about her experiences outright, but there was a deep rooted wrath the elder omega would never let go.

Jingyi growled, sinking back into Zizhen. Wherever good feelings that had budded wilted–leaving him angry and so, so utterly tired. It wasn’t Jin Ling’s fault. It wasn’t Jin Ling’s fault his family and ancestors were such oppressive, cruel assholes.

An awkward silence descended over them. Sizhui broke it.

“Young Master Mo never…”

“No. Probably too deranged to know how,” Jin Ling spat. Sizhui frowned.

“Huh, so you haven’t heard an omega purr before? Aw, but they’re so adorable!” Zizhen interjected. Jingyi blushed, and before he could react, a thumb was being pressed into the small of his back, right into a soft, small spot near his side, and it made his vision go white. His voice stuttered over a loud, rumbling purr–when he came back to himself, he was resting on the floor, and the other two were peering at him closely.

“Wh..” He moaned dumbly. Zizhen pressed down into that spot again, the blunt tip of his nail scratching something so deep and pleasuring his whole body shivered, his chest rumbling almost involuntarily, helplessly, “what. What–mm-hng, what isthat, ohmygod, that feels good. What.”

Zizhen giggled above him. For someone so good, so sweet and bashful–the beta was such a little shit.

Sizhui and Jin Ling drew closer to him, their scents heady, eyes blown wide on their faces, twin stupefied expressions on their faces. If he weren’t so out of it with pleasure from a back rub, Jingyi would’ve bursted out laughing. However.

“It’s a pressure point,” Zizhen explained, “not very well known. If you press it correctly it’ll make an omega do this! Kind of like how a massage feels to someone…that’s how my sister explained it!”

Zizhen’s nail pressed deeper, and Jingyi let out a punched out wheeze, before the purring started up again. He writhed under the beta as his nerves sparked like electricity, the endings a burning flame. The omega knew his scent was going absolutely crazy, but wasn’t able to reign himself in until he could think again.

Eyes burned into his skin. Jingyi’s face was flaming. And when Zizhen finally let up, Jingyi saw that both Alpha’s faces were beet red. He took a moment to compose himself, shaking, as he got up. It felt good, if a bit odd to have something jabbed into his nerves. It lit a pleasant burn, made his mind go cloudy.

“There!” Zizhen said, proud, “now you’ve heard an omega purr! My work here is done.”

Jin Ling, his face a tomato, said nothing, staring at Jingyi as if he was something foreign. Nobody moved, the only sounds being the wind pounding against the shutters, Jingyi’s heavy panting, and Fairy’s soft breathing until Sizhui stood up and cleared his throat. His ears were the color of the back of a ladybug.

“A-Ming, you’re tired, you need rest. Come, now, I’ll see you to bed.”

And, well, Jingyi, too tired to even protest or bid the others goodnight, had followed him without complaint.

(In the corner of his eye, he saw Jin Ling turn to Zizhen with a face burning brighter than the sun itself and a scowl deeper than the trenches of the earth. He wondered what that was about.)

Jingyi woke up with claws around his throat.

Choking on fear, the remnants of a horrific dream crusting the edge of his mind, clouding it with blurry pictures of darkness and shimmering pools of red. He shot up in bed, legs twisted in the blankets, his sleep robes open at the chest. As his lungs heaved and stuttered, the sleeve slipped off of his left arm. The cool air caressed the exposed skin of his collarbone and sent pricks of goosebumps erupting across his back.

Swallowing, Jingyi closed his eyes for a second. Blood flickered beneath his eyelids, a blurry memory rearing its ugly head–so he decided against keeping them closed, opening them and staring into the shifting darkness of the room.

It had been a while since he had a nightmare.

He wasn’t prone to them the way Sizhui was. In their early days, he remembered his friend telling him about terrors that ravaged his brain at night–stories told in a dreamscape he could never remember by daylight. They spooked him, painting dark, purple half-moons under his eyes and rendering him quiet the next day. Jingyi hated those nightmares, because they hurt A-Yuan, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Not if he never remembered any.

Jingyi would have one once in a blue moon–but they were usually juvenile, stupid things, like running through a dark corridor being chased by a deformed version of Lan Laoshi. On occasion, he’d dream of his parents–people merely fables in his mind. The idea of parents, shadows of people he’d never met amidst a cacophony of screams and sorrows.

(He used to miss them. Or, rather, the idea of them–they died when he was a few months old, leaving him yet another orphan of the war. Jingyi eventually grew out of it, recognized they probably loved him, but there was no use being sad over people he couldn’t remember.

Besides, he had Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun, people who had filled the void, the need for a family enough for him.)

He’d only started having more serious, frequent nightmares after the incident at Caiyi town, and after Mo Manor. Tortured at night by that poor woman’s shriek, the blood that pulled from the animalistic bite, the red caking the mouth of the man who bit her, the way it sank into their robes. In his dreams, as it happened, the crowd would disappear, Caiyi town melding into darkness–until all that was left were the two omegas.

Then, Jingyi would notice his collar was gone. And the bite on her neck mirrored the one on his.

He had to watch, every time, the way his skin was gouged apart by crude bitemarks. He had to watch how rivets of blood bloomed into his white robes, had to feel the way some unfamiliar, faceless Alpha held him by the wrists and–

Jingyi always woke up before he bit him again. But the fear, the helplessness, the guilt–it was all still there. He had never told anyone about it–not even Sizhui, because he saw how he got every time he brought it up.

He would rather not cause his friend unnecessary pain.

Breathing shakily, Jingyi slid off of the cot, standing with a groan and a stretch. The sky was still dark, clouds obscuring the stars, a certain coldness stagnant in the air. He hastily fastened his robes, foregoing shoes, throwing on an outer robe and creeping into the middle room, where a dim field of lantern light was illumination beyond his door. It was barren, organized and dark–Sizhui probably put everything in order. Across the way, where his friends were sleeping, there was no light.

Jingyi huffed, shaking off the remaining terror of his nightmare. Sizhui was right in the other room, and everything was fine. He was fine.

Then–his blood went cold.

The door to the hallway was cracked open.

His breathing sped up, something frigid, something fearful worming its way between his skin. Reaching for his sword, hand falling through the place the hilt normally was, he noticed something shining through the outside.

Gold.

Something moved through the slightly limpid door–a dog’s tail.

Annoyed, Jingyi rolled his eyes and stomped up toward the door, slamming it open with a crisp crack against the wood that had Jin Ling jumping a foot in the air.

The Alpha whirled around to gape at him, wide-eyed, parted mouth expression fading to something angry and displeased. His fluffed out hair, lacking any fancy headpiece, falling in shiny, caramel waves down the golden desert of his shoulders–plus, the happy dog in his lap made him look twenty times less intimidating than he was trying to be.

“Young Mistress,” Jingyi greeted, sarcastically, “what the hell are you doing?”

Jin Ling’s hand stroked over Fairy’s head. The dog’s shiny eyes were focused on Jingyi, her tail thumping against his leg. He tsked and turned away, “what does it look like I’m doing, omega? What are you doing awake? Shouldn’t you be sleeping!?”

Jingyi closed the door shut behind him and slid into a sitting position. Jin Ling watched him, tired eyes following his movements until he slumped down with a sigh. As soon as he stretched his legs down in front of him, Fairy scrambled off of her owner’s lap and threw herself at Jingyi, subsequently whacking Jin Ling on the chin with her butt. Jingyi laughed.

She settled down in his lap instead, and Jingyi couldn’t help but feel immense superiority, grinning smugly over her ears at the Alpha. Jin Ling, rubbing his chin, glared at his dog with judgment and betrayal.

“Yeah, probably,” Jingyi shrugged. He would probably be tired in the morning, but by the time they get to Langya it would probably be close to nine anyway, “so should you, moron. What, can’t sleep without your luxurious silk sheets and fluffy pillow? Poor you.”

Jin Ling’s lips pursed, “you–!” He began to yell, quieting down to a scratchy whisper after a glance into their room, “I can sleep places other than home! I’m a cultivator! If I couldn’t sleep in foreign places, then I couldn’t do my job. Though, you wouldn’t know, would you?”

Jingyi glared in lieu of response, a pang of real hurt banging his chest. Jin Ling must’ve seen it on his face, because he wilted and turned away, murmuring a small apology. 

“Whatever,” Jingyi sighed. Fairy licked his chin and he giggled, “I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re thinking, Young Mistress. I had a nightmare, that’s why I’m up.”

Jin Ling’s hand was holding his head up, pudging up his cheek. He glanced at him, before going back to staring resolutely at the wall. A breeze flew through the hallways, the warm light of the lanterns flickered. In the dim light, the Alpha looked handsome–shadows cutting against his severe features. Now, looking closely, there was a tiny mole right below his lower lip–lips that were chewed red and bitten. On one eye, his lashes curled up and long, and on the other, they grew downwards. It was a funnily endearing imperfection.

“Yeah, I know,” Jin Ling scoffed, fidgeting, “I could smell you.”

Jingyi blushed and looked down. Sizhui, the healers, and some of his classmates that didn’t fear his wrath had commented on how strong his scent was after his maturity–he could feel it too, the way his emotions spilt beyond his control, his grasp, and into his fragrance. He couldn’t help it, and felt bad he was filling the room with his pheromones, but he wasn’t used to it. Sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Growing up, Jingyi always wondered how the Alphas in his life had such good control over their scents–he could never tell anything from Hanguang-Jun, and Zewu-Jun had such good control he could protrude certain emotions by choice.

Jingyi figured it was less of an omega thing and more of being an ill-tempered, emotional human being.

“Could you?” Jingyi fiddled with his collar, running a finger along the seems, “sorry. Ughh, I know it’s annoying, I can’t control my emotions! Sorry if it…woke you.”

Jin Ling shrugged with one shoulder, determinedly not looking at him, “it’s fine. I was already awake, and I have a sensitive sense of smell…I doubt the others could smell you, anyway.”

That was true–if Sizhui had caught a whiff of his fearful scent, he would’ve come rushing in, properly dressed or not. Though, it was incredible Jin Ling could smell him from two rooms away, and through a door. He voiced his thoughts, the Alpha’s face growing red immediately.

“It’s–It’s not that big of a deal! I’ve always been like this,” he said, “I just. Pick up things better than most, I guess.”

“Woah,” Jingyi breathed, “that’s so cool! Hey, Jin Ling, can you tell the difference between the scents on me? Can you?”

Jingyi leaned closer to him, grinning. Their knees touched, noses so near he could feel the hitch in Jin Ling’s breath, saw the blotchy pink that melded like water color into his cheeks–so close he could see the individual shadows his lashes made on his face.

“I–I,” Jin Ling leaned back, wide eyes darting down and then back up to meet Jingyi’s gaze again, “yeah–I mean, I guess! You, you smell a lot like Sizhui, and Hanguang-Jun, and…another scent that’s–probably Zewu-Jun’s, because it’s similar to Hanguang-Jun’s. I can smell some of–of Zizhen on you…and…a bit of me…”

Jingyi drew back, smiling so wide it split his cheeks. He scratched Fairy enthusiastically behind her ears, “that’s so cool! Wow! You can tell all of that from just being near me? That’s incredible, Jin Ling! You must be so good with investigative night hunts…”

Jin Ling turned away and murmured, “thanks.”

“Even sitting close to you, though, I can’t really smell anything besides your own scent, “Jingyi pondered aloud, cocking his head.

The Alpha’s scowl returned, and he scooted away from him. Fairy stared at him before going back to nuzzling into the chest of the person actively giving her attention.

“That’s because I don’t have a need to be scented like you omegas,” he glowered, crossing his arms over the peony emblem engraved into his robes, “I’m not a needy pup, anymore!”

Jingyi stuck his tongue out, “but still! It’s still nice to be scented, Young Mistress, pup or not. It’s a sign of love and friendship. Something you evidently don’t have. Sounds lonely! Hey, hey, Jin Ling, you should let me scent you.”

Jin Ling turned toward him, eyes narrowed, “an omega scent me? Hell no! I’d be the one scenting you, asshole.”

Jingyi dipped low, disturbing Fairy who was draped over his lap like a content, fluffy rug. She rolled off of him with a huff, shaking out her coat as she stood, “then do it, Young Mistress.”

The Alpha snatched his wrist. It was a light, protective hold–he didn’t dig his fingers in, didn’t grip hard enough to leave an ache. His entire hand encircled it, fingers not overlapping but coming quite close, closing at the fingertips. The skin of Jin Ling’s palm was soft and smooth, nails blunt. He hesitated once he grabbed Jingyi, and the omega rolled his eyes.

“I–I’m doing this for you, Lan Jingyi! And I swear, if that Alpha of yours gets angry at me because my scent is on you, I’m beating your ass!” He whisper-yelled, baring sharp canines, voice tapering into a growl. It wasn’t mean, didn’t fill his omega with instinctual fear. Instead, it came across as a playful growl under the false guise of anger. Jingyi had to hold back a laugh.

“Why are you stalling so long, Young Mistress? Do you not know how to scent someone?” Jingyi teased.

“Of course I do!” Jin Ling shot back. In a sudden, jerky movement that almost sent Jingyi falling into the alpha, Jin Ling brought his wrist up to his face. After a second's hesitation, the omega’s wrist dangling in the air, he brought his nose to his scent glands. Ever so slowly, he dragged his nose across the exposed glands, a soothing up and down motion that sent pleasant pinpricks through Jingyi’s spine. The scent of peony, juniper, and that tangy hint of cinnamon washed over him like a warm rainfall on a hot summer day, the dip in a river, washing the day's dirt and grime away after a nighthunt. Jingyi felt that familiar murkiness spread across the fabric of his mind, his thoughts going gray and muddled. His chest rumbled in a happy purr, a small, private vibration lost between the two of them. Through half-lidded eyes, Jingyi saw the alpha watching him with a curious, observant gaze.

After a moment or two, Jin Ling’s own wrist came up, and their scent glands brushed together. Jingyi’s bones turned to mush, and he slumped against the door.

The Alpha scented both his wrists, and Jingyi’s mind went fully under, submersed in calm waters. He vaguely felt Jin Ling’s breath over his neck, his face stopping just above his collar. Jingyi bared his neck, tilting the crown of his head further into the door, and Jin Ling’s cold nose touched the slip of exposed skin of his scent gland. Jingyi was sure his purring got louder, not that he cared, but he brought it down in consideration for their sleeping friends and the other people at the inn.

After an eternity between the Alpha and Omega, Jin Ling drew back, a flush high on his cheekbones, eyes blown wide. Jingyi grinned at him, dopey and happy, and Jin Ling smiled back.

It was awkward and tentative, but it was there, genuine and true. Jin Ling wasn’t someone to smile often, so seeing one directed at him made something flutter in his chest.

A second later, the door opened, and Jingyi almost fell through, catching himself at the last minute. Before he careened into the floor.

Sizhui loomed above him, the whites of his eyes large and stark in the darkness, worried tinging his scent with ash. His frown dissipated, worry melding into confusion as he looked between them.

“Hey,” Jingyi whispered.

“Your door was open, and you were gone,” Sizhui said, and Jingyi immediately felt guilty, “Jin Ling, you weren’t in the room either. You–please, don’t do that. A-Ming, you… scared me.”

Jingyi scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over himself in his haste. Beside him, Jin Ling did the same, “aiya, I’m sorry Sizhui! I couldn’t sleep, and I found Jin Ling out here, so…”

Sizhui wilted–he was frazzled and tired, robes more unkempt than Jingyi had ever seen, “...it’s alright, Jingyi. You know me. Why can’t you sleep?

“Ah…just a stupid nightmare. I’m fine now, really! Stop looking at me like that!” Jingyi asserted. He technically wasn’t lying–he was feeling a lot better, now that he and Jin Ling had talked and he was scented, “I asked Jin Ling to scent me, and now I feel good enough to sleep! I was just about to go back to bed.”

Behind him, Jin Ling stiffened, like Sizhui would growl at him for scenting Jingyi–which was stupid, because Sizhui didn’t own him, nor did he need to ask permission from anyone to be scented! That was idiotic!

“Thank you, Jin Ling,” Sizhui smiled at the other Alpha, and Jin Ling’s shoulders fell, “are you sure, Jingyi? You’re not one to get nightmares…”

“I’m sure, I’m sure, you’re such a worrywart,” he turned toward Jin Ling, “isn’t he?”

Jin Ling tilted his chin up and crossed his arms, “I’m not one of your juniors that you need to look after!”

Sizhui levels them with an unimpressed glare, “you’re still under my jurisdiction, Jin Ling. I’m the oldest here. I’m in charge of this…group. I’m sorry, I–I guess I am a worrywart. Come, Jingyi, you need to get back to bed. You too, Jin Ling.”

“Sir yes sir!” Jingyi cheered, striding back inside. Jin Ling sulked after him, Fairy following his heels. Sizhui’s face lit up at the sight of her and he bent down to give her a loving pat on the head. Jingyi found it adorable.

After the gold-clad man had disappeared into the Alpha’s room, where Zizhen had, miraculously, slept through everything, Sizhui turned toward him. He brushed a hand down Jingyi’s neck, peering at him closely. His eyes were tired, face pale–a lump formed in Jingyi’s throat.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can sit and you can tell me about your dream, if that would make you feel any better. I can wait with you if you don’t want to be alone,” he offered. Jingyi shook his head, smiling softly–he couldn’t help but smile when he was by A-Yuan.

“I’m alright, A-Yuan. Really! It was–stupid. We’re both tired, and if we stay up any later Lan Laoshi will haunt us for breaking so many rules, so we should go to sleep. I’m…sorry for waking and for worrying you.”

Sizhui laughed, voice breathy, “alright, alright. It’s okay, A-Ming. Sleep well, hmm?”

“I will! You too! If I don’t wake up in time, please wake me up! I’d rather not have Zizhen throw something on me…”

“Of course.”

They went separate ways. Jingyi stood for a minute in the emptiness of the room, watching their shadows from beyond the screen. The low murmur of voices rose up, but Jingyi didn’t stick around to hear what Sizhui and Jin Ling were talking about, falling into his own bed a second later.

He drifted off into a dreamless sleep not a minute later, only accompanied by the temperamental sounds of the wind.

They found a dead cat nailed to the inn door.

The poor creature was mutilated, its fur hanging in clumps bound with sticky red, tail hanging limp, eyes closed. It hung like a rug, motionless and straight, and as soon as Jingyi saw it, bile rose up in his throat and he stumbled back in fearful shock.

Zizhen had shrieked–his voice flowing through the highway. The sound was so loud, so startling and scary, but undoubtedly Zizhen that they had all rushed out, swords in hand, just to find the beta a deathly pale cowering against the wall adjacent to their room, hands spread against the wooden trim.

As Sizhui closed the door, they all saw it. Jin Ling gasped, Sizhui’s face dropped, and both Alphas had covertly stepped in front of them, shielding them from view. Or, rather, shielding the horrific sight from their eyes.

Jingyi’s shaking hands came up to cover his mouth, watching a fresh bead of blood dribble from the dead body, down the wood of the door, and pool on the floor. He and Zizhen shared a look, twin, horrified gazes covered by a sheen of glass meeting behind the protective backs of their friends.

Zizhen’s eyes had spilled over with silent tears as some servants took the cat down from their door.

They arrived in Langya that afternoon.

As it turns out, the city was under the jurisdiction of Lanling, kind of like how Caiyi Town was with Gusu. Jingyi had never been so close to Lanling before, so just seeing the change in architecture was astounding and interested him–so much that both Jin Ling and Sizhui had to tell him to stop getting distracted staring at the plethora of gold-colored trimmings and high windows. It made sense why Jin Ling wanted to night hunt there.

After a long day of flying, they were physically and mentally exhausted–bodies aching from the extraneous use of spiritual energy and, for Jin Ling and Jingyi specifically, lack of sleep. They had only stopped to eat at a small corner restaurant in the middle of the city, before crashing at an inn nearby.

Once again, to the chagrin of Sizhui, Jin Ling had paid for their room.

Jingyi marveled at the small city of Langya–it was different from Caiyi town, situated in flat fields carved with stone passageways and crowded, hive minded homes toward the center. There were no docks, no nearby entrance to the sea–just a river curling along the outskirts of the town.

And, apparently, Jin Ling had run into Hanguang-Jun and Young Master Mo.

“You what!? What the hell, Young Mistress, why didn’t you say anything earlier!?”

Jin Ling’s hair had been swept wildly in the wind, his golden robes fluttering like flower petals. He scowled at him as both Sizhui and the omega drew closer–the Alpha wide-eyed and interested, with a hidden desperation that only Jingyi picked up on.

“I thought you knew,” the heir had replied, turning back towards the front, “ugh–that lunatic pulled me out of this…stone castle tomb…thing? I don’t know, but Hanguang-Jun was with him, and they said they were following the trail left by the demon arm.”

“Did they look okay?” Sizhui had asked, excited for news of his father.

“They looked fine! I guess. Mo Xuanyu changed his look a bit. He looked like he knew how to dress and didn’t look unfit for society. And…he smelled a lot like Hanguang-Jun.”

Jingyi and Sizhui had shared a shocked glance with one another over Jin Ling’s back. Hanguang-Jun barely ever scented anyone! Much less someone he just met! It wasn’t proper, and Lan Wangji just wasn’t like that! Despite his sense of smell, Jin Ling had to be remembering wrong.

“I wish A-Die allowed us to go with them,” Sizhui had dipped low on his sword to whisper to Jingyi, “but, I’m glad they’re doing alright. I do wonder what the demon arm has led them to.”

After the entire fiasco inside Gusu’s wall with that infernal arm–how it broke through the array keeping it subdued and injured Lan laoshi and the other elders observing it. Jingyi and Sizhui had got there in the aftermath–and Jingyi, embarrassingly, saw Young Master Mo kneeling near the arm and got worried for him.

However, the omega seemed to be able to handle it better than anyone else there. And the fact it had managed to injure the elders probably solidified Hanguang-Jun’s resolve on them not helping with the case.

Annoying, but fair.

“Me too,” Jingyi had agreed, fiddling with his collar, “don’t worry Sizhui! Hanguang-Jun is amazing, he’ll figure it out! …And Young Master Mo too, I guess.”

It was amazing how, even with Hanguang-Jun, they still managed to find themselves in trouble. Well–it was more like that this time, trouble had found them.

Jin Ling cursed all colors of the rainbow, pacing up and down the corridor of the inn. Sizhui was speaking quietly to Zizhen, who was slumped on the wall furthest from their door. The beta was still pale, lips pursed and nauseous looking, but he was nodding to whatever Sizhui was saying, so that was…good?

The servants scrubbing the blood out of the wood would send occasional, panicked glances to the fuming Jin Ling, and they would scrub faster.

“Thank you,” he said to one of them as he scurried past him with a pail of pinkened water and a red wash cloth. Jingyi did not want to know where they put the cat's body, “hey, actually–wait! Sorry to bother you,” he hesitated, and the beta servant turned to look at him, his hazelnut eyes wide, “we’re here for a nighthunt, and then that happened. Do you have any idea why…”

The servant shook his head, gaze facing the ground. He nervously wrung the towel between his hands, “no, gongzi, no…I’m sorry! Nothing like this has happened before, not here in the city, anyway…”

“Has it happened outside the city?”

The round-faced servant twiddled with the hem of her sleeve, “not…not the same thing…”

She seemed eager to get away from them, her fidgety gaze darting to the two Alphas behind them and back to Jingyi’s face. Sighing, he bowed and waved her off.

They couldn’t seem to find anything out about the cat corpses.

Everyone they asked only had information on the pack of fierce corpses that occasionally came out from the forest and wandered across the fields. When they brought up any events that involved dead cats or vicious ghosts, even any notable deaths within the city–nothing. Absolutely nothing. The second day they stayed at the inn, they awoke to find another cat corpse nailed to their door, its limp silhouette visible through the silk that made up the screen, shadowed and grotesque. The third day Jin Ling had charged the man who owned the building and demanded a room change, and they were transferred to the opposite end of the inn.

And behold, another cat corpse was nailed to the door.

Calicos, kittens, black cats–every. Single. Morning.

They moved inns. They set up arrays to find any fierce spirit, set up curse detection talismans–every day, absolutely nothing. And all four of them were at their wits fucking end.

“Jin Ling,” Jingyi had growled at the alpha. The boy had given it right back, teeth bared and snarling. They prowled toward each other until they were face to face, exuding such angry pheremones that Zizhen’s eyes had flickered between them like he was watching a sparring match, and Sizhui had glared at Jin Ling with apprehension, “I am going to fucking murder you for bringing us here!”

Trapped into yet another room in yet another inn, tensions were high between the group–they were all confused, scared, because they didn’t know what was happening, why it was happening, and what could happen. Their arrays and talismans showed nothing, so Sizhui had come to a conclusion that it had to be a human doing it.

A fucked up, asshole human, that is.

“You’re acting like this is my fault,” the Alpha hissed back, eyes a burning fire that made his omega cower, but made the inferno boiling in Jingyi’s chest grow, “I wanted to nighthunt! I’m not the one who's doing this shit! Shut up!”

Then, Jingyi had thrown himself at him, and they both went sprawling onto the ground, Jingyi on top of Jin Ling. The Alpha squawked angrily as his back thwacked against the wood, and Jingyi, vision red, had clawed at him, their arms wacking each other without murderous intent but riddled with fustration–it wasn’t a fight, it was a wrestling match, but the open handed palm strikes they gave each other still hurt like a bitch. They snarled and growled at each other, and at one point, Jin Ling had grabbed the side of his head, gripping his hair in a way that made Jingyi yelp.

That was when Jin Ling froze and they were hauled off each other, Sizhui, grabbing Jin Ling by the shoulders and bodily throwing the other alpha toward the corner of the room, absolutely livid in a way Jingyi had never seen, and that expression made everything stop, all the anger melting out of the room.

A beat of silence passed over them.

“Both of you,” Sizhui said, voice low and gravelly. His scent was a torrent of ash, a raging forest fire that felt like sand crusting their lungs as they breathed it in. The alpha’s eyes reflected the lantern light, severe and deadly–it made Jingyi’s throat close, “cut it out now.”

Jin Ling was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He whipped his mouth with a fist, resolutely glaring a hole into the floor.

“This is not the time to be fighting. Jingyi,” Sizhui snapped. Jingyi’s head snapped up at his name, “do not lose your head or resort to violence. Please, we shouldn’t be acting like this. We’re in a potentially dangerous situation–”

“Potentially dangerous!?” Zizhen chimed in, incredulous. His presence left from behind Jingyi, his hands leaving his shoulders. From the sudden change in balance, Jingyi stumbled, “there isn’t anything potentially dangerous about this! It’s just dangerous, plain and simple! These–the cats, the corpses–they’re obviously a threat, and they’re following us. We are in active danger.”

Jin Ling scowled, his scent mixing unpleasantly with the burn of Sizhui’s–while Zizhen’s was erratic and tinged with rotted wood.

Zizhen, when he realized all eyes were on him, shrank back and apologized, “sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to…”

Sizhui held up a hand, “no, it’s alright, Zizhen. You’re…correct. There isn’t anything potential about this–there is real danger. Jin Ling…A-Ming, I know you’re both scared–!”

“I’m not scared–!” They yelled at the same time, glaring at each other.

Sizhui closed his eyes for a second, “...we are all frightened. We mustn't let that turn to anger, it will further divide us, and we cannot afford that right now. Jin Ling, I know you wanted to complete the nighthunt in langya, but we can’t. Not with this. We need to leave in the morning. You two,” he looked at both Jingyi and Jin Ling in turn, “apologize to each other.”

Jingyi tugged at his collar, something hot burning beneath his eyes. He blinked, “I…sorry. You’re right, Sizhui. Ugh,” he tsked, folding himself into a reluctant bow, “please accept my apology, Young Mistress.”

Jin Ling murmured something that could be interpreted as a very reluctant, very angry apology, before he disappeared out the door with a band, the scent of burnt cinnamon laying stagnant in his wake.

“This is the worst nighthunt I’ve ever been on. The absolute worst,” Zizhen bemoaned, “I’m never going to recover. I have so much fun with you guys, but this is scary…”

“The worst,” Jingyi reiterated, staring at the door.

It was when he looked down that he realized his hands were shaking.

Sizhui had apologized, and told him he didn’t want Jingyi sleeping in a separate room. So, Jingyi slept in the main room with the other three, behind a privacy screen. He figured he and Jin Ling were good again, because the Alpha had sat next to him during dinner and purposely gave him the best parts of the fish he had ordered–the succulent cheeks and two strips down its body. They said nothing, but they didn’t need words; their actions spoke for themselves.

It was weird sleeping in the same room as others–Jingyi was so accustomed to lying alone, in the privacy of his own dorm. So, hearing the shuffling of his friends, the disturbance of their sheets, being able to smell their scents just outside the privacy screen was odd and weird but not…bad. He quite enjoyed it, and fell asleep quickly, lulled to sleep by a lullaby of peony covered mountains and forests of chestnut trees.

Though he fell into a nice sleep considering the circumstances, unweighted despite the fear and apprehension riddling the four of them—he awoke to the grating noise of Fairy barking, the slamming of the door, and Jin Ling screaming curses as footsteps raced down the hall.

Jingyi scrambled, tripping over the sheets tangled around his body. His mind was racing, going a mile a minute, he couldn’t think enough to have any notion of rationality—the omega grabbed his sword and burst out the door after them, catching the back of Zizhen’s figure before he, too, was out the door.

When he got outside, it was to the sight of Jin Ling and Sizhui chasing a white-clad figure down the main road. They turned a corner, boots slapping against the puddles riddling the stone roads, the moonlight reflecting in the waters.

“Holy shit, what’s happening—wait up!!”

He caught up to them just as the figure disappeared into the darkness of the forest, their white robes melding into the shadows until all that remained was shrubbery and debris.

Jin Ling looked like he wanted to go after him, body held as tight as a taut bow string. Sizhui had a hand on his shoulder.

“Fuck—! Fuck, goddammit, Sizhui! He got away! Shit, we almost had him!” Jin Ling seethed, pacing. He kicked up dirt and blades of grass, tufts of it clinging at his robes.

Sizhui stared into the darkness, a strict tenseness to his shoulders.

“That was the guy?” Zizhen asked, one hand holding his sword, the other pulling at his hair, “really?”

“He had the fucking cat and everything. Gods. Fuck!”

“Jin Ling,” Sizhui commanded, “calm down.”

They were both fully dressed, impossibly pale under the moonlight. Sleeplessness had settled under their eyes, rendering telling, purple half-moons smudged into their skin. They both looked weary, exhausted, and angry.

“Wait, what the hell?” Jingyi’s hands shook, “did you guys wait up looking for him?” He strode up towards them, the cool air making him shiver, “why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve helped! I expected this sort of alpha pride thing from the Young Mistress but from you, Sizhui? Really!?”

There was that anger again–burning in his core. So fierce it made him practically nauseous. He could feel the final bearings of his temper blow away with the next strong breeze.

“Maybe I couldn’t caught him! Maybe I could’ve caught him because your slow asses are too fucking incompetant. Maybe this entire thing could’ve been over with if you just–!”

“Uh, guys…”

Both alphas turned to look at him, and both their faces lit up red. It left Jingyi in furious silence. Sizhui’s eyes went comically wide, while Jin Ling looked away, face matching the deep shade of his vermillion mark. Their scents were electricity crackling in the atmosphere.

“...guys…”

“Jingyi!” Sizhui hissed. Jingyi watched, confused and indignant, as he shrugged off his outerrobe. The next second, the warm fabric was being draped over his front. It was so long, smelled so much like Sizhui, that in any other circumstances Jingyi would’ve been all over it immediately, but now, it only furthered his annoyance, “cover up!”

Jingyi paused. Looked down at himself.

He was still in his sleep robes.

Anger gave way to embarrassment. His face burned as he shrugged the robe on–it was large enough on him that it covered any exposed skin.

“Guys!” Zizhen snapped, and all their attention went to him.

He was staring at the pathway their mystery man disappeared down. There was a cat corpse in the center, its still body mocking them from the dirt.

Sizhui glanced at Jingyi. Jingyi avoided his gaze. He stared unseeingly at the ground, focused on a tiny daffodil. His hands were still shaking, sounds muddled, embarrassment a forest fire under his skin. He clenched his eyes shut so tight colors danced below his eyelids.

“A trail,” Jin Ling groused, “the fucker wants us to follow him.”

There was a sign next to the trail–rotted wood and slanted. There were two characters on it–they probably used to be white, but the weather had worn away at the paint, leaving behind peeling specks of off-white-yellowish mush.

Jingyi wrapped his arms around himself.

The characters read YueYang.