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Chapter Text

Wei Ying stood upon a grassy cliff, surrounded by the quiet din of anticipation. The roar of the river far below, the wind rustling, the trill of birdsong, Little Apple munching on the grass underfoot were all noises inviting interruption, filling an empty space. It had been many months since he had been in such a familiar place. The wildflowers nestled among the grass dappled it with familiar flecks of yellow, white, and blue. He knew the birdsong in the distance well enough to hum it. He knew where the river below him would lead if he followed it upstream.

A flock of nearby birds suddenly took wing, startling Wei Ying, but Little Apple took no notice. This was ridiculous. He was uncharacteristically jumpy, nerves taut in an unfamiliar, humiliating way. He raised Chenqing to his lips in an attempt to calm his nerves, and to give his hands and mind something to do.

He had received no reply to his letter. It should have been a simple letter, specifying this place and time. In reality, it had taken him almost a week to write. How does one announce one’s return after so long away? How bold of him to assume he would simply be welcomed back, to expect others would wait for him, make room for him, understand him. He had found himself stumbling over words, sentiments, salutations, leaving just enough time for his letter to reach its destination, but not its reply. And so he played his flute on the cliff side alone, not knowing if anyone was coming to meet him.

They had exchanged letters, of course, while he was away. Letters whose words he’d turned over in mind and mouth countless times during restless nights and lonely days. They were one of few comforts he had had on the road. Since his violent return to the realm of the living, Wei Ying had known little kindness, but...Yours, Lan Wangji... His words were the only ones of solidarity he had known since then. Lan Zhan’s generosity, kindness, and trust had all but sustained Wei Ying as he moved through the unwelcoming world. How often he’d repeated the blessing to himself: “To have one soulmate in this world is enough.”

But letters were one thing.

Nothing was owed anymore. Lan Zhan had cleared his conscience, and Wei Ying was painfully aware of that. If Lan Zhan had had regrets about his treatment of Wei Ying prior to his suicide, they were now absolved. He had proven his loyalty to Wei Ying, had even drawn his sword against the world for him. Wei Ying often reminded himself that it was, by Lan Zhan’s own admission, his sense of duty and regret that had kept him by his side those many months ago. But he had other duties now. They were, of course, longtime friends, and that had to count for something, but Wei Ying also knew that Lan Zhan may start to pull away, now that all that was behind them.

“Wei Ying.”

A familiar voice caught Wei Ying’s breath in his throat, freezing his fingers over the lacquered surface of his flute. He had not been paying attention to his surroundings, nor to what song he was playing. His thoughts had wandered to his friend, and so, too, had his song. Lan Zhan’s melody, hummed softly to him an age ago, had been unconsciously issuing from the instrument. His stomach flipped. It felt like years, rather than months, since he had last heard that voice. He took a deep breath, lowering Chenqing to rest in silence at his side.

He turned.

Lan Zhan stood a few yards away, a brushstroke of white linen among the tall, green grass. The foliage swayed around him in the wind, sweeping the ebony hair about his shoulders. His robes were dappled with sunlight that peaked from behind windswept clouds. He looked as much a fixture of the landscape as the birds, the river, the flowers. He held Wei Ying’s gaze, eyes narrowed into the restrained smile that only Wei Ying ever seemed to notice. He began to walk forward.

Wei Ying could not contain his joy. It bubbled forth as a joyous exhale that cracked his face into a wide smile and wet his eyes. Taut muscles and coiled anxiety released as he watched Lan Zhan approach. He wished he could move his feet to close the distance between them, but he seemed unexpectedly rooted to the spot. Lan Zhan did not seem to mind. He stopped a few feet away. For a long moment, the two men simply looked at each other, drinking in the small changes that come with time spent apart: Hair longer, or shorter, than last remembered, new creases on faces, a new tunic, a new scar. Each detail a story, a clue to what passed in the others’ absence.

“Hanguang-Jun,” Wei Ying greeted.

Lan Zhan’s expression warmed, the familiar voice as welcome to him as his had been to Wei Ying.

“You’ve returned,” Lan Zhan said.

“I told you I would. If the past has taught you anything, it is that I will always return to you, Hanguang-Jun,” said Wei Ying. Lan Zhan’s breath seemed to catch at this. Wei Ying flushed slightly. He had meant his words to be playful, funny, but they came out with more meaning than he’d intended. He felt shyness bloom in the pit of his stomach. “It is good to see you, Lan Zhan.”

“It is good to see you, too, Wei Ying. You look well,” said Lan Zhan earnestly.

"I am well,” said Wei Ying, and he meant it. After a moment, he realized he should respond, “And you?”

“I am well, now,” said Lan Zhan. Wei Ying’s ears grew warm. His own words had seemed too bold to him, but he seemed to be equally matched. He was unsure what to say next.

“You have been gone a long time, Wei Ying,” continued Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan, I...” Wei Ying paused, unsure where he planned to go with that sentence. He looked down before continuing lightly. “How are things in the Cultivation world? So much must have happened since I left.”

Lan Zhan ignored this question.

“Wei Ying, I did not expect to see you here,” said Lan Zhan seriously.

In fact, Lan Zhan had scarcely expected to see him again. When Wei Ying left, Lan Zhan had resigned himself, as he had sixteen years before, to a life in his absence. To a life of wishing, hoping, but never having. He couldn’t place blame. Wei Ying had been to Hell and back. He had faced immeasurable suffering, had been hated, ravaged, and driven to suicide by the world which Lan Zhan was now tasked to lead. How could Lan Zhan expect him to stay? Even so, walking back to Cloud Recesses after their last parting was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

“How long will you be staying in Gusu?” asked Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying tried to decipher Lan Zhan’s expression: a fruitless effort, as always. He twirled his flute and averted his gaze.

“Oh, I’m just passing through,” he said, aloof. “Maybe I’ll stay a day, maybe a week, I haven’t kept track of how long I’ve been staying in any one place.”

Lan Zhan looked down, softness now gone. Wei Ying stopped twirling the flute. A coldness arose between them, and Wei Ying realized he'd said something wrong.

“Lan Zhan…” he began, then stopped. He changed his tone. “You know, I think yours is the first familiar face I have seen in many months.” He smiled. “Stony as it always is, I am glad it is you whom I saw first.” Little Apple bumped into him suddenly, nuzzling his hand in search of treats.

"Ay!” exclaimed Wei Ying, “Except for you of course, Little Apple. Yes, yes. So sensitive!” He playfully slapped Little Apple’s neck with the reigns and smiled. Lan Zhan said nothing. The coldness remained. Wei Ying tried again.

“Tell me, has the food in Cloud Recesses improved since I left?” asked Wei Ying.

“If you would like to, you are welcome to come for dinner, and stay in Cloud Recesses for as long as you need to,” Lan Zhan obliged the unspoken request.

Wei Ying smiled.

“I would be honored to be a guest of his Excellency,” said Wei Ying, and bowed sincerely. “Anyways,” he continued, “even rabbit food is better than going to sleep with an empty stomach under the stars.” He let out a playful laugh, and Lan Zhan could not help but soften at the sound he had so often missed.

“Come,” said Lan Zhan, “I will walk you back to Cloud Recesses. They will not let you in on your own.”

“Your clan and their rules,” said Wei Ying, rolling his eyes, “Strict as ever.”

Without a word, Lan Zhan took Little Apple’s reigns and began to walk back the way he had come. Wei Ying followed him. The two men walked shoulder to shoulder in silence. Lan Zhan eyed the ground. Wei Ying eyed Lan Zhan.

"You know,” began Wei Ying, “I am still waiting to hear what you’ve decided to name that song. I’m sure I’ve given you enough time by now.”

“I already told you, it has long since had a name,” said Lan Zhan.

“Well, and you still won’t tell me what it is!” exclaimed Wei Ying. “Really, it’s unfair. We being the only two people in the world who play it, don’t you think I should know what it’s called? I may have to come up with my own name after all. I have thought of some…” He put his flute to his chin, feigning contemplation. Lan Zhan looked for a moment like he was going to say something, but stopped himself. He was not upset by Wei Ying’s joking, but he was not amused by it either. Wei Ying decided he had teased him enough.

“Well, maybe I won’t give mine away just yet,” conceded Wei Ying. “I must hear what you’ve come up with first, and decide if it is acceptable.” He paused, then asked, “Lan Zhan, is A-Yuan at the Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Zhan shook his head.

“He is gone night hunting with Wen Qionglin and a few of the other cultivators. They are expected back in a week or so.”

Wei Ying did not try to hide his disappointment.

“Oh. That’s a shame. I was hoping to see him. Is he well?”

“He is very well,” nodded Lan Zhan. “He excels in his studies, and he’s now led several night hunts. He is very much like you were in skill at that age, but with a more even temperament.”

“Ah! There was nothing wrong with my temperament!” exclaimed Wei Ying, affronted. “I just also knew how to have fun, that’s all.” Something I will need to teach A-Yuan it seems, he thought. “Lan Zhan, I won’t accept you spreading this type of slander to the juniors! It’s unfair when I am not there to defend myself!”

Lan Zhan smiled lightly. Pleased with this accomplishment, Wei Ying continued.

“But really, is he being safe? You’re not sending him into danger needlessly?” he asked. Lan Zhan recognized the true concern in his voice.

“He is very capable. Rest assured: He is safe,” comforted Lan Zhan. I have always kept him safe for you, he thought. Wei Ying relaxed slightly.

”Well, I guess if he is trained by Hanguang-Jun, then he must be alright,” he said. Lan Zhan was still firmly staring at the ground in front of him. Wei Ying’s smile dropped.

“Now really, Lan Zhan,” he said, scolding. “I have been gone for so long, and you have yet to ask me a single question about where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing. I’m beginning to wonder whether you even missed me at all!” He bumped his shoulder into Lan Zhan, who made no reaction other than obliging:

“Tell me, where have you been, and what have you seen on your travels these past months, Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying smiled and launched into one of the many stories he’d share that afternoon. The two men walked side by side, one talking, one listening, as the wind, once again, danced between them.

Chapter Text

As the afternoon passed, the wind blew the clouds from the mountains, leaving behind a night sky full of stars. It was a warm spring evening, one that smelled of sun-soaked grass and warm days to come. White flowers were in bloom in the Cloud Recesses, speckling the bases of buildings as if with drops of snow. Crickets and frogs hummed, and all was bathed in the soft glow of lanterns as the sun set behind the trees. As always, it smelled clean here. The thin mountain air was crisp, and the smell of wet earth, sandalwood, and cut cedar wafted through the air. Wei Ying had always thought of Gusu when he had smelled such things on his travels.

They had arrived back at the entrance to Cloud Recesses in the mid-afternoon. Once Little Apple had been handed off to a stable-hand, the two men spent the rest of the afternoon ambling leisurely through the woods, Wei Ying washing his hands and face in the river, telling tales of his travels. Lan Zhan listened silently, grateful just to have Wei Ying there. The time passed quickly. Instead of a private meal, Lan Zhan suggested they attend dinner with the clan’s disciples. Wei Ying agreed, and was greeted ecstatically by all there except Lan Qiren, who gave them both a malicious look before pointedly rising and turning to leave, meal untouched. Lan Zhan, it seemed, had struggled as much as Wei Ying in announcing his arrival. Nonetheless, with pleasantries exchanged, and hunger satiated, Lan Zhan escorted Wei Ying back to his lodging for the night.

“You will stay with me,” Lan Zhan had said, careful not to betray any emotion with these words. This had been their arrangement the last time Wei Ying was there, and thus he thought nothing of it. They walked in silence. Lan Zhan still resided in his mother’s old home, the Jingshi, far away from the center of the Recesses. Someone had come around to prepare the house before their arrival. The candles were lit, and the kettle was steaming. As they approached, Wei Ying grew unexpectedly sad. Perhaps it was the memory of what transpired here in the past. Perhaps it was the emptiness of it now. Such a big house for just one person, and so far away from everyone else, he thought. Lan Zhan should not seclude himself so. Why must he keep himself so lonely?

Wei Ying watched as Lan Zhan crossed the threshold of the house, memories flooding back to him as he followed. Lan Zhan, hair down and soft, pouring him a forbidden draft of liquor. The cool, wet feel of standing under a thick snowfall, flakes melting on hair and hands. Waking up, and feeling comfortable and safe for the first time since his violent resurrection as Lan Zhan played his guqin. He smiled softly at these memories.

Lan Zhan, meanwhile, walked to a cabinet across the room and pulled out two bottles of Emperor’s Smile. Wei Ying did not attempt to conceal his shock upon seeing this.

“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Since when does the honorable Hanguang-Jun keep liquor stored at the Cloud Recesses? Imagine the stir it would cause if your disciples knew you were hiding liquor in your rooms! Why do you have that here? Don’t tell me that your tolerance for liquor has improved these past months, I won’t believe it!”

Lan Zhan ignored him. Walking to the adjoining room, he sat down and poured the clear liquid into a cup. He placed it gently at the seat across from his. Wei Ying understood the invitation and joined him. He lifted the cup and smelled it deeply, exhaling contentedly. Lan Zhan took hold of the nearby kettle and poured himself a cup of tea.

"You know, in all my wanderings, far and wide, I sampled many hundreds of local drinks,” said Wei Ying, “Not one of them compares to the Emperor’s Smile of Gusu.”

He smiled and downed the cup in one gulp. Lan Zhan refilled it. Wei Ying lifted the cup again.

"A toast.”

"To what?” asked Lan Zhan.

“To you!” said Wei Ying, beaming, “You have gained quite the reputation these past months, you know. There is not a place I traveled to where the praises of his Excellency were not sung,” he paused. Then he said, inquisitively, “Who... I hear has also been appointed as the new Clan Leader...?”

Lan Zhan looked down, then nodded solemnly. Wei Ying was momentarily surprised, then sighed. He shook his head seriously.

"Along with the contents of this cup, you have become a mark of the true greatness of the Lan Clan of Gusu, Hanguang-Jun,” said Wei Ying. He raised his cup and smiled, “So, a toast!”

Once again, he downed it. Lan Zhan allowed himself a small smile, pleased with the compliment, and sipped his tea. He refilled Wei Ying’s cup again. Wei Ying shook his head.

“Clan Leader Lan…” Wei Ying mused. Then, in a serious tone he asked, “Lan Zhan, why on Earth has your brother stepped down? Don’t think I haven’t noticed; I have not seen him anywhere today, nor has anyone even mentioned him since I arrived.”

Lan Zhan’s expression was unreadable. He took a long sip of his tea, then placed it back on the table before speaking.

“After the events at the Guanyin temple,” he began, “Brother was overwhelmed with guilt. He felt that he should have perceived Jin Guangyao’s true nature, and that many evils could have been avoided if his judgement had not been clouded,” he paused, looking down at his teacup. “He has confined himself to the cold ice cave as penance.”

Wei Ying took in a sharp breath. He had feared this was the case.

“For how long?”

“He is not being held. He will contemplate as long as he needs to.”

“But... How could he have known?” said Wei Ying, outraged. “Jin Guangyao was a snake. No one perceived him, not even his own family. Your brother is being too hard on himself.”

Lan Zhan lifted the teapot and began pouring himself another cup of tea.

“Nevertheless, he holds himself accountable,” said Lan Zhan. “He was Jin Guangyao’s sworn brother. If he was not responsible for stopping his evil, who was?”

He stopped pouring then, realizing the parallels between his brother’s situation and theirs of the past. This was not lost on Wei Ying. They met each other’s eyes awkwardly before looking away. Each man took a drink. A long moment passed between them before Wei Ying finally spoke.

“Will it be painful?” he asked, barely more than a whisper.

Lan Zhan looked up, shocked. He scanned Wei Ying’s face, wondering what he knew. He had been so careful not to say anything to him, hadn’t he? Wei Ying had enough guilt burdening his soul without bearing Lan Zhan’s punishment on top of it. There was no mistake, though. One way or another, Wei Ying had found out about his confinement there. He pressed his lips into a tight line. Finally, he nodded.

“He will suffer, but he will survive,” said Lan Zhan gravely.

Wei Ying looked remorseful.

“It was your brother who told me of your confinement there,” he said gently. “But don’t be angry with him! I made him tell me. Besides, he knew you would never tell, no matter how I may try and force you.” Wei Ying shook his head. Softly, he said, “I was gone, Lan Zhan. It wasn’t necessary for you to suffer so.”

“I accepted my punishment willingly,” said Lan Zhan firmly. “My conscience is clear.”

A long moment passed. Wei Ying examined the man sitting across from him, trying to comprehend the suffering through which he had gone, unaware of how often Lan Zhan had done the exact same thing.

“Three years there,” Wei Ying said, voice thick, “and three hundred whips. And…” his eyes moved from Lan Zhan’s face to his chest, “...that brand on your chest…” Lan Zhan froze, teacup in middair, breath caught in his throat. Wei Ying continued softly, “I saw it there while you were bathing in the river. How did you come by that? Your brother did not say.”

Lan Zhan did not trust himself to meet Wei Ying’s eyes. He would not, could not, explain this scar. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. At the moment, he was only grateful that his brother had kept this, his greatest shame, a secret. Lan Zhan changed the subject.

“There is other news you should know,” said Lan Zhan, setting his teacup down. Wei Ying eyed him suspiciously, but allowed him to divert the conversation. “The Su clan has been dissolved. Its members must repent and accept punishment in order to return to their parent clans, or else face exile. Also...” Lan Zhan paused, then made his own attempt at being coy, “The Jin clan has assumed new leadership.”

Wei Ying’s face immediately broke into a smile that seemed to Lan Zhan to brighten the room.

“Ah?” Wei Ying inquired. “You mean Jin Rulan? Tell me! How is my nephew faring?”

“The memory of Jin Guangyao is still fresh,” said Lan Zhan. “The Jin clan, and the Nie clan, must work to rebuild their reputations and their leadership. Clan Leader Jiang has been aiding Clan Leader Jin much.” He smiled dryly. “Several times, they have even accepted my counsel.”

Wei Ying almost choked on his drink. He let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Jiang Cheng, accepting counsel from you?” laughed Wei Ying. He shook his head and took a drink. “Things have certainly changed since I left.”

Lan Zhan allowed himself a small smile.

“So, does that mean my nephew is still the same self-important peacock he’s always been?” asked Wei Ying.

“He is young,” replied Lan Zhan diplomatically, “but with guidance he has shown that he is willing to learn.”

Wei Ying shook his head and laughed dryly.

“Clan Leader Jin,” he turned the words over, picturing his young, fiery, sixteen-year-old nephew leading a clan. So young. With only Jiang Cheng for guidance. His heart grew heavy as he contemplated this. With great emotion, he finally said, “If only my Senior Sister could see it. I hope she would be proud.”

“She would be,” Lan Zhan replied earnestly. She would be proud of you, he thought.

Wei Ying met Lan Zhan’s gaze, his eyes shining with unshed tears, then looked away. Lan Zhan recognized that the tone of the conversation had shifted. He decided he would not allow Wei Ying to steer it back to cheerfulness. Now was the time to dig into the heart of the matter.

“Wei Ying,” he began. He was taut with anxiety, though he doubted Wei Ying would be able to tell that. “Why did you really come back to Cloud Recesses?”

Wei Ying looked up, surprised. There was emotion behind this question that he would rather avoid. He tried to.

“I told you,” said Wei Ying, “I am just passing through. Of course, I couldn’t pass by without a taste of Emperor’s Smile!”

He looked at his cup and grinned playfully. Lan Zhan’s heart sank.

“It is getting late. I will let you rest,” Lan Zhan said shortly. He started to rise, but Wei Ying grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back down.

“Ah, now Lan Zhan! Don’t be like that!” exclaimed Wei Ying. He recognized that his humor had not landed. There was no avoiding it. “Fine, I will be honest with you,” he continued. “You are right. I wasn’t just passing by here. I came back here because… I wanted to.”

“Why?” Lan Zhan demanded. His eyes were like daggers. Wei Ying shrunk from his intensity.

“Why are you upset?” asked Wei Ying. “If you would rather me leave Cloud Recesses, I will go.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said sharply. He sighed, then more gently he said, “I want you to tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth. I came back here because I wanted to,” Wei Ying hadn’t wanted to discuss this all just yet, but it appeared he would be forced. “In my travels,” he went on, “I went further than any cultivator before me has ever dared to go. I traveled far beyond the Burial Mounds… so far that I did not see another living soul for weeks. So far that I encountered people who spoke in foreign tongues with foreign faces. I saw lands and peoples I had never imagined. I saw the great sea. But…” he paused. “I didn’t expect it. I found myself… missing. Jiang Cheng, A-Yuan, Wen Ning…” he looked up. “Most of all, you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan made no reaction. He continued staring, stony-faced. Wei Ying considered him closely.

“What is wrong?” Wei Ying asked.

“But you are just passing through,” replied Lan Zhan, quoting Wei Ying. “You would leave again so soon.”

Wei Ying did not reply to this. He looked down, ashamed. Lan Zhan continued.

“When you departed from Gusu, I thought it unlikely that we would ever meet again,” confessed Lan Zhan. “I chose to take on the duties of Chief Cultivator, of Clan Leader…” he paused. “I often imagined what life you would choose to lead.”

These words hung heavily between them.

“And yet… you still let me go?” wondered Wei Ying. They shared a long look. Lan Zhan’s eyes tried to say what his mouth could not, but Wei Ying did not seem to understand.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying began gently, “I was not gone this time. I promised you that we would meet again. I even wished for you to come with me, remember?”

“I do,” said Lan Zhan, “But it was my duty to stay.” His voice was laced with sadness. Their past hung thickly around them like wet wool, chilling the air.

“Where will you go from here?” Lan Zhan eventually asked. Wei Ying shook his head.

“I’m not sure,” replied Wei Ying, “I had half a mind to visit Clan leader Jiang and the ancestral shrine in Yunmeng, if he will let me… Now I must certainly check on Jin Ling in Jinlintai…”

“And then?”

Wei Ying faltered. He took a drink. Lan Zhan sighed.

“Why do you lie?” demanded Lan Zhan. Wei Ying raised his eyebrows.

“Ah? How do I lie?”

“If you have nowhere you plan to go, why do you say you are only passing through?”

Wei Ying pouted.

“Well, so what if I have nowhere to go? I will simply go where I please!”

“Why must you always joke about these things?” hissed Lan Zhan sharply. He rose suddenly and strode to the door. He stopped at the threshold, gazing out at the lantern-lit courtyard. He could not bear to look at Wei Ying anymore. He was enraged, but whether it was at Wei Ying’s lack of emotion, or his own foolishness, he could not tell.

“Lan Zhan!” exclaimed Wei Ying after him, but Lan Zhan cut him off.

“You cast those who care about you aside as if they mean nothing,” he said, his back to Wei Ying. “Even after everything that has happened, you still have not learned how your actions affect others.”

Wei Ying gaped at this accusation. He slammed down his cup, temper flaring.

“And what about those who have cast me aside? Hm?” Wei Ying demanded. “Every person. Every single person who has ever claimed to love me has at one time hated me, rejected me, or feared me. What kind of devotion do I owe to anyone then? Whom has cast off whom?” He barked. For a moment he considered stopping, but, recklessly, he continued, “Even you fought against me back then.”

This hit a nerve, just as Wei Ying knew it would. Lan Zhan clenched his fist behind his back. It was his only reaction. Wei Ying stood and approached him.

“Lan Zhan, can you really blame me for wanting to be on my own? In this world, what companionship can I hope to keep? At one time, I believed that the Jiang clan were my family, and yet they cast me aside when I tried to do what I thought was right,” he stopped, “what I know was right,” he corrected. “…all in the name of saving face with the other clans. I believed that the Wen clan survivors would be my family, and yet they were murdered by those who hated them without reason- who hated me. I was resurrected into the body of a man whose family despised him and tortured him to the point of sacrificing his own spiritual cognition in the name of revenge.” He paused here, steadied himself with a breath. “At one time… I even believed that you could be my family, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan clenched his fist tighter. Wei Ying continued, his tone slowly staining with sadness.

“And yet you have said it yourself: You have duties to the other clans now, to your own clan, to your pupils, to yourself…. What freedom does that leave you? Lan Zhan… I would not have you sacrifice your reputation, nor your doctrine, to stay by my side. I may no longer be the hated and feared Yiling Laozu, but I will never hold a place of honor in this world. Not like you,” Wei Ying paused. He gazed at the figure of Lan Zhan, silhouetted against the doorway, turned away from him. He could not decipher what Lan Zhan was thinking, nor what he was feeling.

“I am a clan of one, Lan Zhan,” he announced. “That is my destiny. What roots… what could I possibly rely on in all of this?” Wei Ying felt hollow. He had not allowed himself to feel so truly desolate in a very long time. He did not care if Lan Zhan would be angry at him for saying such things. He did not care if his words hurt him. Lan Zhan wanted the truth? Well, here it was. The hollow, empty truth.

Lan Zhan trembled, trying to keep his emotions in check. His eyes were pressed tightly closed. He felt tears, hot and unwelcome, slide down his cheeks. His fist ached from clenching it so hard. He took a deep, shaky breath.

“You do not get to decide who loves you, Wei Ying,” he said in hardly more than a whisper.

Then, he turned.

Wei Ying instinctively braced for the biting sting of Bichen as Lan Zhan lunged forward. He was unarmed, Chenqing forgotten at the table, and there was no way he would be able to avoid his strike…

But a strike never came.

Instead Wei Ying felt a tense, trembling hand clamp onto his upper arm, and a mouth slam into his. His eyes shot open.

Lan Zhan had turned, and he had kissed him. Angrily. Roughly. His brow was furrowed, eyes closed, hands tense. He was shaking and, Wei Ying realized with a shock, he was crying- furious tears now pressing against Wei Ying’s cheek.

Everything crashed into place in Wei Ying’s mind in one momentous epiphany, like an avalanche off a mountain. All of the words they had ever shared, all of Lan Zhan’s acts of devotion, his own feelings of comfort and safety and affection, all fell instantaneously together into a single tapestry that Wei Ying realized he had felt, but never seen.

Oh. OH.

This was not a friendship. When did that happen? How long had he been stupidly, naively, humiliatingly unaware? How painfully obvious was it to those around him? How could he have misinterpreted every sign, every moment…? How could he possibly be so stupid? And… oh, no… the turmoil that Lan Zhan must have been going through. Wei Ying heard the words he had just said in anger repeated in his mind in an entirely different light. He felt hot with shame. How could he have said such things? He was embarrassed, and shocked, and elated all at once.

Wei Ying’s head was still swimming when Lan Zhan broke the kiss, and Wei Ying almost fell forward with surprise. Without a word, without even so much as a glance, Lan Zhan turned on his heel and strode away into the night, leaving Wei Ying standing in the doorway, dumbfounded, rooted to the spot. He stayed there, utterly stunned, for a long time after Lan Zhan had gone.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying awoke the next morning to the sound of someone calling his name. He opened his eyes, but the blinding mid-morning sun forced them back shut. His head ached terribly. He was sitting on the ground, slumped against the open doorway of the Jingshi. He had been waiting for Lan Zhan to return last night, but he must have fallen asleep before he came back. His neck and back ached from sleeping in such an awkward position and Chenqing, tucked into his belt, had dug painfully into his side as he slept. He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and looked up. Someone was standing a few yards in front of him wearing blinding white robes.

"Lan Zhan?" he asked groggily. He rubbed his eyes. Opening them again, he saw that it was not Lan Zhan, but rather one of the junior Lan cultivators he had met yesterday during dinner.

"Ah,” said Wei Ying, disappointed. “Is something wrong?"

Wei Ying stood slowly, feet clattering against the empty bottles of Emperor's Smile that lay forgotten at his feet. The sight shocked a small dose of adrenaline back into his system, as he remembered the events of the previous evening that had caused him to down both bottles in quick succession. Simultaneously, he recalled that alcohol was strictly forbidden at Cloud Recesses and that he was, in fact, in the doorway of Hanguang-Jun’s residence. Hastily, he swept the two bottles out of view with his foot, smiling innocently. The Junior Cultivator smiled in return, amused, then bowed to him.

"Senior Wei," she began, "It seems you overslept and missed breakfast this morning." She paused as she looked into the room behind Wei Ying. "Ah... Is Hanguang-Jun here?"

Wei Ying whipped around. The table was just as he’d left it last night, and the beds had not been slept in. Lan Zhan was nowhere to be found. He never came back last night? thought Wei Ying.

"Ah…" stammered Wei Ying, "No. No, Hanguang-Jun isn’t here."

"Well, in that case," continued the cultivator cheerily, "some of us thought to save you a plate of food from breakfast, if you’d still like something to eat. Uh… if you wouldn’t tell Huanguang-Jun? He is very strict regarding meals."

"Sure, sure..." said Wei Ying, barely listening. Then, a realization hit him. "So you've seen Hanguang-Jun this morning?" he asked urgently. The cultivator nodded.

"Yes. At breakfast. Though, he came and went quickly, without speaking to anyone."

Of course, thought Wei Ying, Once again, the rigid daily routine of the Lan Clan comes in handy.

"Senior Wei, why are you sleeping in the doorway?" the cultivator asked quizzically.

"It's not important," Wei Ying said, still thinking. "Do you have any idea where he may be now?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know," she paused a moment, thinking. "Well, he sometimes meditates at the river in the mornings, but I can’t be sure he will be there now."

"Thank you!" said Wei Ying breathlessly, and took off running.

"Senior Wei?" the cultivator called after him, utterly confused. "Senior Wei! What about breakfast?"

But Wei Ying was already gone.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and Wei Ying's head cleared as he ran through the forests of Gusu, following the river upstream. His mind was racing through so many thoughts that it never settled on one. Instead, they all blurred together into a single, unexamined trajectory: he must find Lan Zhan. Wei Ying felt the air grow wet as he drew nearer to the great waterfall at the river’s end. He could smell the earth dampen and the algae growing on the trees. Finally, winded, he reached the clearing and saw the waterfall before him. The water roared over the glinting rocks of the cliff side, collecting into a tannin-stained pool below. The sun reflected off the water in shafts of crystal light that danced along the forest floor. A white figure sat at the pool’s edge, facing away from him.

Lan Zhan was meditating.

Wei Ying slowed to a stop a few yards away from him. Lan Zhan made no movement to acknowledge his presence. For a long moment, Wei Ying simply gazed at him, absolutely at a loss for what to say. His sense of urgency had been so great that he had not anticipated the wall of uncertainty that now lay between them. His heart began to race. Now that it came to it, how does one possibly put such things into words?

With all 3000 rigid laws of the Lan Clan, who would have thought that the honorable Hanguang-Jun would pull a stunt like that? thought Wei Ying. He shook his head. It really feels like I am drunk. Could it be that my tolerance for Emperor’s Smile has decreased since I left? That would truly be a shame. A horrible, terrifying thought crossed his mind. Is it possible that I imagined it…?

The memory of the kiss came back to him then, more vividly than any other time that morning. The kiss! Lan Zhan, the esteemed and honorable Second Childe Lan, had kissed him. He relived and rephrased this truth a hundred times as he stood there, stomach in knots. He blinked and gazed at Lan Zhan as if seeing him for the first time. He was puzzled, and dazzled, and nervous.

“Hanguang-Jun,” he finally said. Lan Zhan made no reaction. Wei Ying took a step forward, then hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

Could I really be remembering right? If last night was not a dream… he grew sad. Then he must feel ashamed. I must be sure not to embarrass him. But… what do I possibly say?

Suddenly, a memory came to him. A-Yuan, wiping tears from his eyes, trying to explain his tangled emotions to Wei Ying.

“I just… can’t seem to find the words,” he had said. Wei Ying heard Lan Zhan’s reply, clear in his memory.

“Then don’t,” he had said fondly.

Wei Ying smiled. He knew what to do. Slowly, he raised Chenqing to his lips. Eyes locked on the white figure before him, he breathed the first note into Lan Zhan’s song. He closed his eyes, letting the melody issue effortlessly from his flute, filling the forest clearing with its slow, melancholic tune. As he played, Wei Ying recognized new emotion behind the song, felt new meaning in old notes. How had he not heard it before? Lan Zhan was right, perhaps some things did not need words. The song concluded, and Wei Ying opened his eyes.

A moment passed where Lan Zhan sat there motionless. Then, slowly, he stood.

Lan Zhan’s heart was pounding. He stood looking down at the rippling water below him, breathing in the fresh forest air, not bearing to turn around. He waited for Wei Ying to speak. These first words were not his to say.

“Lan Zhan,” began Wei Ying sincerely. “I am sorry for my words last night.” He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. Then, with great emotion he finally managed to say, “And… Thank you.”

Lan Zhan let out his tangled breath in a long exhale. Slowly, finally, Lan Zhan turned to face Wei Ying. Their eyes met briefly, and the memory of what transpired the previous evening passed wordlessly between them. Lan Zhan lowered his eyes.

“Between us,” he said seriously, “there is no need for ‘Thank You’ or ‘Sorry.’” He looked up to meet Wei Ying’s eyes again, expression vulnerable. He steeled his courage and stepped forward, stopping a few feet away from Wei Ying.

“Yesterday…” he began, but stopped. He looked down awkwardly. “Yesterday… you wanted to know the name of this song.”

Wei Ying nodded.

“Wangxian,” said Lan Zhan slowly.

“Wangxian?” repeated Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan nodded.

“The song’s name has always been Wangxian,” he said.

Wei Ying considered this for a moment.

“Wang… Xian…” he said, turning the name over in his mouth, “Wang… Xian… Lan Wangji… Wei Wuxian… Wangxian!” He laughed as he understood. “Hanguang-Jun, it’s wonderful!”

He reached out, taking one of Lan Zhan’s hands in his and squeezing it. Lan Zhan tensed, surprised.

“It is a better name by far than any I came up with!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “Though, I indeed thought to name it something like this! But ‘Wang…Xian…’ Yes, it is perfect!”

Wei Ying smiled at him widely. Lan Zhan gazed at him in awe. He had not expected this reaction even in his wildest dreams. He blinked in shock, then looked down at their joined hands.

The mood shifted as they became aware of themselves. In the past, Wei Ying may have laughed nervously, backed away, played off the physical contact as a momentary lapse or a coincidence… but not this time. Instead, he shook his head sadly.

“Lan Zhan,” he said with meaning, “This song… that means… for all these years...”

A long moment passed between them before Lan Zhan built up the courage to speak.

“For all these years, I have loved you, Wei Ying,” he finally said.

This statement hung between them, words no longer left unsaid. Wei Ying smiled and laughed, shaking his head. He could cry.

“Lan Wangji, ah, Lan Wangji,” said Wei Ying, blinking tears from his eyes. “You fuddy-duddy. Why did you wait so long to say such things?”

Wei Ying looked up to find Lan Zhan’s eyes boring into his. His expression was both asking a question and demanding its answer. Wei Ying looked at the stony face affectionately.

“You know I have always considered you my zhiji, and I yours. But…,” here Wei Ying paused, his thoughts revisiting scattered moments from years past- seeing Lan Zhan again after being resurrected at the Mo Manor, trying to control a rampant Lan Wangji who’d had too much to drink, seeing the whip scars on Lan Zhan’s back, learning that he had saved A-Yuan- and his voice caught in his throat. He looked up, and, as if realizing it for the first time himself, said, “Surely you must know that I have loved you, too.”

Lan Zhan’s expression melted, two decades worth of anxiety gone in a single moment. Lan Zhan’s eyes moved to Wei Ying’s mouth, and Wei Ying’s stomach flipped at this new sight, this new possibility. Knowing what he was supposed to do, but scarcely believing what was happening, Wei Ying leaned forward.

Every centimeter they moved towards each other was a question. Their eyes kept meeting briefly, checking that neither was overstepping. Wei Ying’s heart was racing uncomfortably. Lan Zhan’s ears were bright red.

Finally, between them, their lips met, and the sensation, the unimaginable reality of it, sent a thrill through them both. Wei Ying saw Lan Zhan’s eyes close, then closed his in turn. The kiss was gentle, soft, chaste… nothing like the violent declaration of the night before.

They stayed like that, neither willing to break away, Wei Ying still holding Lan Zhan’s hand in his. The roar of the waterfall was the only sound to be heard around them. The wind from the falling water sprayed them with a fine, cool mist. Everything was perfectly natural, and perfectly beautiful.

Eventually, they parted.

They shared a soft look. Both were aware that from this moment forward, everything would be different between them. A whole life of new opportunities now lay before them.

For the first time since either of them could remember, they were no longer afraid of what the future held.

“You are not a clan of one, Wei Ying,” said Lan Zhan.

And for the first time, Wei Ying believed it.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying walked along the forest path at mid-morning, the sky obscured by a thin veil of gray, the earth damp underfoot. It had rained earlier. It had been four days since his arrival at Cloud Recesses, and his days here had become serene and peaceful. He could not remember the last time he’d felt so at ease. He had been spending his days ambling through darkened woods and up tall cliffs, bathing in chilled rivers and waterfalls, and practicing archery and music at his leisure while Lan Zhan performed his usual duties as Clan Leader and Chief Cultivator. Wei Ying was absently twirling a small, white flower in his hand as he walked.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had been taking the recent shift in their relationship slowly, tentatively. While Lan Zhan had had sixteen years to come to terms with his emotions, and to understand himself and their relationship in this way, Wei Ying had not. It was ironic, really. While it had always been so easy for Wei Ying to flirt in jest, he now found himself surprisingly out of his depth with the confident and self-assured Second Childe Lan.

Lan Zhan, mercifully, was understanding, and exercised patience. They had time, Lan Zhan thought. Finally, they had time. However, he was nonetheless proactive in shifting their relationship to something more intimate. On Wei Ying’s second morning in Gusu, Lan Zhan had walked across the room while Wei Ying was combing his hair and, shocking Wei Ying into silence, took the comb from Wei Ying's hand and silently set about completing the task himself. Yesterday, he had linked Wei Ying’s arm in his as they walked through the Recesses. Wei Ying had cautioned him that the other cultivators would see them, but Lan Zhan did not care. Each morning, Lan Zhan had left Wei Ying a small token on his bedside table before he awoke- A treat from breakfast for which Wei Ying consistently overslept, a fresh cup of tea, and, today, a small white flower he’d picked from the courtyard. Each day, these gifts declared that things had changed between them, and that he would not allow things to slip back to the way they were. In a strange way, they both savored the trepidation that came with testing new boundaries. The thrill that accompanied each new touch, each new gesture, was enjoyed immensely in and of itself for now.

To Wei Ying, these small gestures were as good as gold. Wordless acts, as always, Wei Ying had thought. Suddenly, he was startled out of his reverie by a chorus of shouts.

“Senior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!”

Wei Ying looked up and saw a group of young cultivators running down the path towards him. Leading the group, highlighted against the flock of white robes, was Wen Ning dressed in his usual black. At his side was Lan Sizhui, and beside him Lan Jingyi. Wei Ying’s face broke into a wide smile.

“A-Yuan! Wen Ning!” he exclaimed, astonished. Quickly, he tucked the small flower into his belt and trotted forward to greet them.

The cultivators, including Wen Ning, stopped a few feet in front of him and bowed deeply. Wei Ying, though he knew he needn’t, returned the gesture. Sizhui hesitated for a second after straightening up, then lunged forward, enveloping Wei Ying in a tight embrace. Wei Ying let out an "oof!" of mock pain, and smiled at Wen Ning from over Sizhui’s shoulder.

“Surely this kid has grown even stronger since I left! How long have I been gone for?” he mused to Wen Ning. Sizhui squeezed him tighter, eyes wet with joy.

"Senior Wei, I can't believe you're really back. I've... I've missed you so much," he said thickly.

Wei Ying smiled and, placing his hands gently on Sizhui's shoulders, extricated himself from the embrace. He kept his hands there as he studied the boy before him. Sizhui looked a little older than the last time Wei Ying had seen him; His face was a little less round and a little more structured. Sizhui looked down shyly.

"A-Yuan," Wei Ying said with great affection, "Ever more handsome, just as I expected! I trust that you have been keeping out of trouble?"

Sizhui nodded sincerely, and Wei Ying chuckled at his seriousness. He dropped his hands from Sizhui and turned to Wen Ning, who was waiting excitedly for his attention.

"Wei-gonzi," said Wen Ning happily, shyly, inclining his head. Wei Ying smiled and reached out a hand to squeeze his arm affectionately. They shared a warm look before Wei Ying let his hand fall and addressed the rest of the group.

"It is so good to see everyone!" he said earnestly. "I was told you weren't expected back for another few days, at least. Why are you all back so soon?" A sudden, horrible thought occurred to him then. Turning to Wen Ning he asked, urgently, "Did something go wrong? Are you all okay?"

Sizhui spoke up.

"Oh! Yes, Senior Wei! We just-"

"I called them back," said Lan Zhan, cutting him off.

The cultivators whirled around to see Lan Zhan walking up the forest path behind them. He had approached so silently that no one had heard him. The cultivators all turned and bowed low, greeting him. Lan Zhan accepted their reverence, then addressed Wei Ying's shocked expression.

"Sizhui informed me that they had completed their night hunt. I simply instructed them not to linger."

Wei Ying was astonished. Sizhui turned back to Wei Ying.

"Hanguang-Jun sent us a message that you had returned to the Cloud Recesses, and that you were awaiting our return. We couldn't believe the news! We..." he looked at Wen Ning, and they exchanged a shy look. "...Well, we wanted to get back here as quickly as we could."

Wei Ying smiled earnestly, touched. He attempted to pivot from this emotion.

"And indeed you should have! You can't imagine my disappointment upon returning to Gusu and finding you all off having your own adventures!" he exclaimed in a tone of mock scolding.

"And what of your adventures, Senior Wei?" Jingyi spoke up. "When will we hear about all you've been up to?"

Wei Ying smiled and leaned forward.

"Ah, well, we'll have to find some time away from Hanguang-Jun for that," said Wei Ying in a low voice. "Many of the stories I have to tell are not suitable for the honorable ears of his Excellency."

The group of cultivators chittered excitedly at this. Wei Ying cast an amused look to Lan Zhan, who simply sighed and pursed his lips. As always, he was fond, yet exasperated, by this type of teasing. Lan Zhan came forward to stand beside Wei Ying, and the excited chattering of the young cultivators fell silent under his gaze. Sizhui cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to change the subject.

"Senior Wei, how long will you be staying in Cloud Recesses?" he asked.

"Not long. Hanguang-Jun and I will be traveling to Lotus Pier in a few days time,” he said.

And so they would be. They had notified Jiang Cheng of their intentions to travel there two days ago, and they had so far not received any reply. This, to Lan Zhan’s surprise, boded well to Wei Ying, who asserted that they, at least, had not received an immediate and vehement ‘no.'

"After that..." Wei Ying met Lan Zhan's eye and smiled earnestly, "Indefinitely."

The cultivators made noises of excited surprise, which amused Wei Ying greatly. Lan Zhan was staring at him, deeply affected by this public declaration. Indefinitely, he repeated to himself. No longer just passing through...

"So! I am glad you made it back in time!" continued Wei Ying cheerily. "I was getting worried I wouldn't see you all before we left. It is a good thing indeed that Hanguang-Jun rushed you along!" He bumped his shoulder playfully into Lan Zhan's. Ignoring him, Lan Zhan addressed the group.

"You may all go and rest now," he said. The cultivators recognized the dismissal, and all of them, except for Wen Ning and Sizhui, bowed to Lan Zhan.

"I'll be along in a moment," Sizhui said to Jingyi, who nodded and left with the rest of the group. Lan Zhan turned to Sizhui.

"You have done well," he said. Sizhui looked down shyly, pleased with the praise. Then, Lan Zhan turned to Wen Ning. "Thank you, Wen Qionglin," he said. For keeping them all safe, he meant. Wen Ning reacted the same as Sizhui, but looked troubled. He turned to Wei Ying.

"Wei-gonzi, if you are traveling to Lotus Pier... does that mean that you have spoken to Clan Leader Jiang?" he asked.

"Well... We haven't spoken to him, so much as we’ve notified him of our travels and he hasn't told us to get lost," Wei Ying said lightly. Lan Zhan looked as though he was about to speak, but suddenly, Sizhui bowed to them.

"Hanguang-Jun. Senior-Wei. I would be honored if I were allowed to accompany you to Lotus Pier," he said seriously. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying looked at him fondly.

"Okay," said Lan Zhan with a small smile. Sizhui raised out of the bow, beaming. Wen Ning still looked troubled.

"Hanguang-Jun, Wei-gonzi..." he began delicately, "Though raised in Gusu, is Sizhui not also of Clan Wen?" He turned to Wei Ying. "Will your brother not protest?"

Wei Ying's smile faltered. He hadn't thought of that.

"Oh..."

"Clan Leader Jiang has already given his permission for Sizhui to come," said Lan Zhan. All looked at him, surprised. Lan Zhan made no reaction to their shock, instead turning to Wen Ning. "He has not extended the same to you."

"I understand," said Wen Ning sadly. Wei Ying reached out a hand and squeezed his arm. They shared an affectionate, regretful look.

"You may accompany us as far Yunping City," Lan Zhan continued kindly. Wen Ning nodded. "Go now, both of you, and rest," said Lan Zhan, dismissing them. Sizhui and Wen Ning both nodded and bowed. They walked past Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, up the path towards Cloud Recesses. Once they were out of earshot, Wei Ying rounded on Lan Zhan.

"Lan Zhan, how on Earth has Jiang Cheng already extended his permission for A-Yuan to come? How could he have known that he’d want to accompany us?" demanded Wei Ying.

"He did not know. I did, so I asked him," said Lan Zhan coolly. "You forget that I raised him and know him well. As for Clan Leader Jiang, I received his reply this morning.” He turned to watch Sizhui and Wen Ning walking side by side up the wooded path. “Sizhui was only a child then. He cannot be held responsible for the actions of his elders." Wei Ying smiled, then his expression grew troubled.

"Did Jiang Cheng say anything else of our plans?" asked Wei Ying. Lan Zhan shook his head. Wei Ying sighed.

"After what happened at the Guanyin temple..." he began, but trailed off. He grew sad at these memories. "I worry that things were not well-left between us. I hardly know what to expect of him. It seems that no matter what I do, I will always be a nuisance in his eyes."

"You have only ever done what you think is right," comforted Lan Zhan.

"Now that he knows of the Golden Core Transfer, it is unlikely that things will ever be the same between us. We used to say that we were an unstoppable pair, 'The Twin Heroes of Yunmeng.' We used to think ourselves equal even to the esteemed Twin Jades of Lan," he cast an amused look at Lan Zhan before continuing. "But now, it seems fated that we will always be separated from one another."

"You have crossed greater barriers than this, Wei Ying," Lan Zhan assured him. Then, after a moment he said, "He has not barred your return. For now, that must be enough."

Eventually, Wei Ying nodded.

"Lan Zhan, when do you plan to speak to your uncle?" asked Wei Ying gently.

"Today," said Lan Zhan. Wei Ying’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Ah? Today? Are you sure?" he asked incredulously. Lan Zhan nodded.

"I will go there presently to play him Cleansing Music. His spirit has been troubled ever since Brother confined himself to the cold ice cave." Looking at Wei Ying's shocked face, he said, with a note of finality, "My conscience is clear, Wei Ying."

Lan Zhan reached out and lightly touched the forgotten white flower still tucked into Wei Ying's belt. Then, without a word, he turned and strode away back up to Cloud Recesses. Wei Ying smiled softly as he watched him go, then turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

It was impossible to tell what time of day it was. Daylight could not penetrate down here, and the sun offered no mercy, no warmth. Water dripped from the ceiling, plink, plink, into the icy pond below in short staccatos. The cavern was filled with the thick air of echoing silence- Rocks falling, ice cracking and shifting, water lapping the edges of the icy shore.

Lan Xichen had grown used to the cold. The involuntary spasms of his muscles against the frigid ground as he meditated, the dull ache that accompanied tensing against it at all times, the sharp sting in his fingers and toes and ears, kept his mind firmly occupied on the present. The pain of it all was welcome, so long as it kept his thoughts away from the past.

Wangji spent three years here, he had often thought, in a mixture of pity and awe. What must it be like to trust one’s own judgement like that? To be certain, even against the entire world, that you are in the right? It seemed to Lan Xichen like a distant memory, that kind of self assurance.

Freezing or no, his mind today had been tormented ceaselessly. The events of the past years echoed in his memory, clear and ringing. The words he had said to Jin Guangyao in hatred, “Never call me er-ge ever again.” The image of Nie Mingjue’s body, maimed and defiled, swam before his closed eyes. Nie Huaisang’s voice was clear in his memory as he cried out, “Behind you!” and Lan Xichen still felt the phantom sensation of his sword plunging into Jin Guangyao’s chest. He heard his voice, pleading and pitiful, “Er-ge, stay here and die with me.” Lan Xichen’s breath, rapid and shaky, formed a dense cloud of white around him as he sat on the cold ground, as if he were breathing out smoke instead of ice.

And then he heard a flute begin to play. Only this was not a memory. The clear note cut through the cold air, and his eyes shot open at the unwelcome, unexpected sound. Panic coursed through him like hot water and he drew his sword with a shout as he swung around to face this phantom.

Lan Xichen’s sword stopped a mere inch away from Wei Ying’s chest. Chenqing was still raised to his lips, and he was looking at Lan Xichen knowingly. He had not flinched.

Lan Xichen was disheveled, pale, and sweaty. He looked in shock at Wei Ying, then down at the sword in his hand. Horrified, he dropped it as if it had burned him, and it clattered loudly onto the frozen ground.

“Wei-gonzi…” he said breathlessly.

Wei Ying lowered Chenqing slowly and bowed to him.

“Zewu-Jun,” he said courteously.

Wei Ying motioned to the ground, inviting Lan Xichen to sit back down. With shaking hands, Lan Xichen picked up his sword and sheathed it without a word. Then, he sat and resumed a meditative position. Wei Ying considered him for a moment with deep pity. He knew that Lan Xichen's condition would be bad when he had decided to come here, but the sight of the once-proud Zewu-Jun shaky and paranoid was more horrible than he had expected. As terrible as it was, he was confident, at least, in his ability to help. He brought Chenqing to his lips and, once again, began playing a Cleansing Song. Lan Xichen furrowed his brow, and Wei Ying could feel his spirit was still agitated. He changed the tune slightly and opened his eyes to see how it was affecting Lan Xichen. Satisfied, he closed them again and continued to play. Lan Xichen’s expression slowly relaxed as Wei Ying played, demons quieting. Finally, the song came to an end. Lan Xichen sighed and opened his eyes.

“Thank you, Wei-gonzi,” he said. “Please, forgive me.”

Wei Ying lowered Chenqing and sighed sadly. He disliked seeing Zewu-Jun like this.

“No harm was done. There is nothing to forgive,” Wei Ying said.

Lan Xichen stood up slowly.

“Wangji sent me a message upon your arrival. I apologize for not coming to greet you, Wei-gonzi,” he paused, looking around at the frigid cavern of the cold ice pond. “I have not left this place since you were here last.”

“I've heard as much,” said Wei Ying. He studied Lan Xichen intently. “If I may ask, Zewu-Jun, what ghosts trouble you?”

Lan Xichen looked down.

“I am afraid that you already know,” he said.

“Jin Guangyao,” said Wei Ying. This was not a question. Lan Xichen nodded desolately.

“Not a ghost, though…” said Wei Ying after a moment of consideration. “I have not felt his spiritual energy here, Zewu-Jun, or that of any other malicious spirit. Only yours,” Lan Xichen looked at him. “Your own guilt is what agitates you, and takes a toll on your spiritual cognition.”

Lan Xichen made no reply. Wei Ying shook his head, upset growing at the despair he saw in the man before him.

"Zewu-Jun, why do you confine yourself so?" he finally asked. Lan Xichen gave him a weak smile.

"How could I not?" began Lan Xichen sadly. He walked to the edge of the pond and looked down at the icy water. "Wei-gonzi, I have had much to contemplate these past months, and I have much to contemplate still," he shook his head, and his tone grew measured, as if he had repeated these next words to himself many times. "If I cannot trust my judgement, then I must remove myself from others. If I cannot do good, then I will remove myself from potentially doing ill. If I cannot uphold justice, what kind of leader am I? No, Wei-gonzi. It is for the best that I stay here," he paused, then said in barely more than a whisper, "Even after all this time, I still cannot say with certainty that the danger for which he paid was real..."

Wei Ying understood him. He knew, all too well, the burden of guilt that accompanied thinking you made a mistake that directly led to the death of a loved one. Had he not felt this way with Yanli? Of course Zewu-Jun agonized over whether killing Jin Guangyao was warranted, he thought. But Yanli was innocent, and Jin Guangyao was not, he thought coldly. If anything, it was justice that Zewu-Jun carried out that day. He spoke his next thought aloud.

"These events are in the past, Zewu-Jun. Are they not done?"

Lan Xichen cast him a knowing look.

"Are the events of the past ever really done, Wei-gonzi? You, of all people, should understand how intimately the past and the present may be linked."

Wei Ying recognized the truth in what he said, absentmindedly feeling at his left forearm. The marks of the Sacrifice Summons were gone, but the memory of them would always remain. He looked down at his forearm and considered for a moment.

"True,” began Wei Ying. “However..." It was his turn now to cast Lan Xichen a knowing look. "I also understand then, better than anyone, that one must accept the past as it has been, and to live without regret."

Lan Xichen sighed and pursed his lips, still looking down at the water. Wei Ying could tell that Lan Xichen did not want to argue, but that he did not agree.

"For what purpose is this visit, Wei-gonzi?" Lan Xichen said with a hint of impatience. It did not escape Wei Ying that he was changing the subject.

"I am here to encourage you to come out of your confinement," said Wei Ying boldly.

Lan Xichen only smiled sadly, shaking his head.

"Even if you will not take up the mantle of Clan Leader again," Wei Ying continued firmly, "it has been too many months that you have been locked away down here." Then, hesitantly, he ventured to say, "Is it not one of your clan’s disciplines to not grieve in excess?”

"I know that your intentions are good, Wei-gonzi, but I cannot leave this place," said Lan Xichen.

Wei Ying was undaunted. He tried another approach.

"Zewu-Jun, Lan Zhan does not know I am here, nor has he asked me to come. He would never question your judgement. If it were up to him, he would allow you to stay down here to contemplate your mistakes for the remainder of your life.” Fervently, he stated, "I will not."

Lan Xichen looked up with mild surprise at the fierceness with which he said this.

"You told me," Wei Ying continued, "that when Lan Zhan spent three years in contemplation down here, he was confined on condition of your uncle. As far as I can see, no such condition binds you. I have always admired you, Zewu-Jun, but the past is done, and it is not changeable," he stopped, then, and looked at him meaningfully. "Now, it is my turn to caution you: Do not forget how your actions affect those who care about you."

These words seemed to affect Lan Xichen, and he looked down, ashamed. Wei Ying thought that he looked uncharacteristically old, desolation and guilt lining his face. Wei Ying let a moment pass, but when it became clear that Lan Xichen had nothing to say in response to his words, he continued.

"Has Lan Zhan told you that we will travel to Lotus Pier in a few days time?" he asked.

"Yes," said Lan Xichen. "Wangji has told me of your plans."

"Come," said Wei Ying firmly.

Lan Xichen said nothing. Wei Ying sighed.

"Lan Zhan and I have plans to travel abroad following our return from Lotus Pier," continued Wei Ying. "The Lan Clan will need leadership while Hanguang-Jun is absent," he studied Lan Xichen intently. "Please consider it."

A long moment passed before Lan Xichen gave a small nod. Wei Ying stepped back and bowed deeply.

"Zewu-Jun," he said.

As he straightened, Lan Xichen looked at him regretfully.

"I am sorry, Wei-gonzi," he finally said.

Wei Ying turned and walked away, leaving Lan Xichen standing alone in the cold ice cave, unsure whether he had really accomplished anything at all.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan was seated on the floor, his guqin before him. Daylight poured in through the open windows, and the sounds of birds and rustling leaves mingled with the notes he was playing. In the adjoining room sat his uncle, for whom he was playing Cleansing Music. His mind was restless as his fingers worked the strings.

He had told Wei Ying that he would speak with his uncle today, and he would keep that promise. It frustrated him that even though he was Clan Leader, Chief Cultivator and, most of all, a grown man, that the prospect of disappointing his uncle still made his stomach tie itself into knots. I should be used to this by now, Lan Zhan thought morosely. As high in honor as he was held by others, he knew that he had never measured up to his uncle’s expectations. He was no Xichen. Lan Zhan knew that his uncle lived in constant fear that he would repeat his father's mistakes, which made the news he needed to tell him that much more daunting. It would make little difference should he delay, however. Nothing would change with time.

“Stop.”

Lan Zhan heard his uncle’s voice, sudden and stern, from the other room. His fingers paused over the strings of the guqin. He had let his mind wander.

“Wangji,” his uncle scolded, “You are of two minds today. You make mistakes in your playing.”

Lan Zhan blinked in surprise. His heart sank as his uncle strode into the room, looking upset. Lan Zhan stood quickly and bowed.

“I am sorry, Shifu,” he said sincerely.

Lan Qiren considered his nephew for a moment, expression softening. He sighed.

“Come, serve tea,” said Lan Qiren. “That is enough of music.”

Lan Zhan straightened and, without a word, strode to the table at the end of the room. He sat down and began pouring a cup of tea. Lan Qiren followed slowly, taking the seat across from him. He received the teacup offered by Lan Zhan and blew on it, steam curling in the sunlight. Lan Zhan sat patiently, expressionless, waiting for Lan Qiren to speak.

“I have been informed that the night-hunting party has returned safely,” said Lan Qiren.

“Yes,” replied Lan Zhan.

“And they were successful?” asked Lan Qiren.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan replied.

Lan Qiren nodded in approval.

“Good. It seems that Sizhui has done quite well for himself. In time, he will indeed make an esteemed cultivator among the Clans,” said Lan Qiren.

Lan Zhan allowed himself to feel a small sense of pride before continuing.

“Uncle, Wei Ying and I will travel to Lotus Pier in four day’s time,” he said.

Lan Qiren shot Lan Zhan a penetrating look at this news, but Lan Zhan was staring firmly at the table, avoiding his gaze. Lan Qiren slowly put down his teacup, brow furrowed.

“Lotus Pier?” he repeated. “Has Wei Wuxian reconciled with Clan Leader Jiang, then?”

“Not yet,” admitted Lan Zhan.

Lan Qiren shook his head disapprovingly.

“Clan Leader Jiang is a reasonable man. If they do not reach a reconciliation, Wei Wuxian has only himself to blame,” he stated.

“Prejudice is often difficult to overcome,” said Lan Zhan. He was careful not to let any emotion show on his face.

Lan Qiren narrowed his eyes at his nephew, recognizing the veiled criticism.

“It is true,” he began slowly, “that after the distasteful events surrounding Jin Guangyao those many months ago, that our impressions of Wei Wuxian had indeed been hasty those many years before. However,” he stated firmly, “Wei Wuxian still chose to abandon the way of the Sword for crafty tricks those many years ago, and departed from the righteous path. Were that I still Clan Leader, he would never be allowed back over the threshold of Cloud Recesses,” he punctuated this final sentence with a haughty nod.

Lan Zhan remained stony-faced, but this was becoming increasingly difficult. He attempted to steer the conversation away from Wei Ying for now.

“Sizhui will accompany,” said Lan Zhan.

“Good,” Lan Qiren nodded. “We would appear too withdrawn should you arrive alone. Bring a group of cultivators with you. Particularly those who have never traveled to Lotus Pier before. It is good to make an appearance in the other clans now and again,” he instructed.

“Yes, Shifu,” Lan Zhan nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard.

“It will be better for Sizhui this way, as well,” he said slowly. “His association with Wei Wuxian troubles me. And his affinity for that Ghost General, Wen Ning, troubles me as well. He holds their opinions too high.”

“Wen Qionglin is of the Wen Clan, as is Sizhui,” said Lan Zhan evenly.

“Mmnh…” Lan Qiren looked as though he would rather forget this fact. “Yes, I suppose it is only natural that they should be drawn to one another. Yet, it is essential that Sizhui remains concentrated on his cultivation. You must maintain a watchful eye on him during your travels.”

Lan Zhan said nothing.

“For what purpose is this travel, Wangji?” Lan Qiren continued.

“Wei Ying wishes to go home,” said Lan Zhan, concealing much. Lan Qiren's expression brightened slightly at this.

“Good, good,” he said. “This shows that Wei Wuxian may be ready to begin making amends. He will remain in Lotus Pier following these travels, then?”

“I do not know,” replied Lan Zhan honestly. Lan Qiren looked at him intently.

“You must urge him to this path. Clan Leader Jiang may exert some positive influence over Wei Wuxian. In addition, it will be beneficial for the Lan disciples if he does not return here.” Lan Zhan looked up at his uncle, disappointed by this harshness.

“Wei Ying is free to go where he wishes,” he said, but this only seemed to agitate Lan Qiren more.

“Ever and anon you make allowances for him, Wangji. It is indecent,” Lan Qiren shook his head with an expression of deep disappointment. “You, more than anyone, should know the price of blind devotion to Wei Wuxian.”

Lan Zhan flinched. The memory of his pain came to him then- the sharp bite of the whip as it sliced through his back, hot blood running down his skin. He looked down, expression stony.

“Not blind,” he said firmly. Lan Qiren gave him a sharp look, and Lan Zhan checked his tone. “I will return to Cloud Recesses in two weeks time. Wei Ying may tarry in Lotus Pier, or travel on, but...” Lan Zhan trailed off, dropping his eyes back to the table.

Here was the heart of the matter. After a long moment, he looked up, meeting his uncle's eyes across the table at last. He was nervous, but steadfast.

“Wei Ying wishes to reside here in Cloud Recesses,” he stated. “...With me.”

Lan Qiren took in a sharp breath.

“Wangji!” Lan Qiren slammed his hand down on the table and stood. Agitated, he began pacing. Lan Zhan made no reaction.

“This is highly irregular…” muttered Lan Qiren. He stopped every so often in his pacing to stare, disbelieving, at Lan Zhan. “You say...? You...? You would wholly abandon the principles of the Lan clan?” He made a desolate epiphany. “You would follow in your father's own wretched footsteps?”

“No,” asserted Lan Zhan. “Wei Ying will not be confined. He will be free to stay or leave Cloud Recesses as he wishes, and I with him.”

“Then you would ask us all to suffer his presence here? Wei Wuxian has always caused nothing but trouble, even before he learned his wicked tricks. And you say he will be free to come and go as he wishes? Without discipline? Without responsibility? You are prepared, then, to waste your life waiting for Wei Wuxian to pay you mind?” He was enraged. “He makes a mockery of your honor, Wangji.”

“Uncle... I have led our disciples well, and so I will continue,” asserted Lan Zhan. “Wei Ying and I will uphold our own righteous path.”

Lan Qiren gazed at him in disbelief.

“Your own righteous path?” he repeated, seething with anger and disappointment. “There is but one righteous path, Wangji! How do you still not understand that?”

“We will do what we have always done. We will uphold justice, and live with no regrets,” said Lan Zhan fervently. In barely more than a whisper, he sealed his fate: “Who is to say what is good and what is evil? What is black and what is white?”

“You!-" but Lan Qiren stopped himself, at a complete loss for words. He was grief-stricken in disbelief. Lan Zhan stood, not meeting his uncle’s eye.

“I will return in two weeks. I will arrange someone to play you Cleansing Music while I am away.”

Lan Zhan bowed, then turned and left without another word.

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan did not speak to his uncle again before departing for Yunmeng. Each day, he silently entered his uncle’s rooms, played him Cleansing Music, and then left without a word. His uncle always sat stoically in the other room, making no indication that he even noticed Lan Zhan was there.

Lan Zhan did not allow himself to be upset by this. He knew his uncle well, and knew that it was not anger he was feeling, but despair. Even after 300 strokes had lacerated his back, Lan Zhan had known that it was because of his uncle’s love for him that he suffered, not his hatred. In time, thought Lan Zhan, he will see that I am not my father. He will see that ours is not a story of tragedy. Not this time.

In the days that passed, preparations had been made for their travels. Lan Zhan had chosen a handful of trusted young cultivators to accompany them, with Jingyi and Sizhui among them. Wen Ning agreed to come with them, and to stay in Yunping City while they continued on to Lotus Pier. Wares and clothes had been packed for the journey, and pack animals, including Little Apple, were prepared.

On the day of their departure, they set off before dawn after much protesting from Wei Ying, who was loathe to leave his bed so early. It was a five day journey from Gusu to Yunmeng, and the group stayed in various inns or camped under the starlit sky along the way. Wei Ying passed the time by telling stories of his travels and adventures to the rapt young cultivators who, in turn, asked him whether various myths surrounding the Yiling Laozhu were true. It amused and bewildered Wei Ying to hear how ridiculous the mythology surrounding him had grown in sixteen years.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had little time to themselves during the journey. Either Wen Ning, or one of the young cultivators with whom they traveled, seemed to constantly require the attention of one of them. However, they had still managed to find several moments away from prying eyes to steal swift kisses, brush hands, and exchange private words. Hardly enough, thought Wei Ying bitterly.

The young cultivators, meanwhile, were amazed at the change they saw in Hanguang-Jun. Most of them viewed him as a melancholy, solitary figure… for that was how they had always known him. There was always a sense among them that he had endured great suffering of which he never spoke. There had been little time for the cultivators to observe him prior to setting out, but now, on several occasions, the way that he looked at Senior Wei had made more than one of them blush. It did not go unnoticed by the cultivators that he allowed Wei Ying to tell stories for which they would have surely been scolded, that he always brought him an extra blanket when it was cold, that he always made two cups of tea instead of one. He seemed distinctly happy in a way that the cultivators had never seen before, though they scarcely dared to voice these thoughts aloud.

They arrived in Yunping City in the mid-afternoon, exactly five days after leaving Gusu. No sooner had they checked into the inn than Wei Ying insisted on going to get a drink and something to eat. Lan Zhan declined, saying that he had letters he needed to send, and so Wei Ying set off with Wen Ning and Sizhui to the dining room of the inn, while Lan Zhan ventured into town.

They chose a table in a secluded corner, where the scars on Wen Ning’s neck were less likely to attract malevolent stares. Wei Ying took it upon himself to order for the table.

“Senior Wei… Are you going to drink this all yourself?” asked Sizhui, baffled, as the server brought over two bottles of liquor and set them down on the table.

“Of course not. You both are going to drink with me!” said Wei Ying as if this were obvious, uncorking one of the bottles and pouring the clear liquid into three cups. Sizhui looked panicked, checking over his shoulder as if expecting Hanguang-Jun to be standing right behind him. Wei Ying laughed. “We’re not in Cloud Recesses now! Liquor isn’t forbidden here. And besides, I could already handle my liquor by the time I was your age.” Can’t have this kid develop the same dismal tolerance as Lan Zhan, he thought. Sizhui looked at the cups as if they were poisoned. Wei Ying shook his head, amused, and placed one of the cups in front of him. “One cup, just to try.” He gave the other to Wen Ning, who accepted it gratefully.

They all lifted their cups and, together, took a drink. Immediately, Sizhui spluttered and coughed at the unexpected burning sensation. He covered his mouth with his hand. All three men burst into fits of laughter at this, Wei Ying clapping him on the back, Sizhui half coughing and half laughing at his own discomposure.

“Okay, okay, you tried it. You don’t have to drink anymore if you don’t want to,” Wei Ying finally said once he was able to stop laughing. He reached across the table to take Sizhui’s cup, but Sizhui stopped him.

“No! No, it’s okay. It’s… good,” Sizhui grimaced politely, though his expression plainly expressed the opposite. Wei Ying chuckled, but let him keep his cup. He turned to Wen Ning.

“So. I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing since I’ve been away. Tell me everything,” he said keenly.

“Well, the last time you were in Gusu, we had set off to travel to Qishan,” Wen Ning began, looking at Sizhui.

Qishan. Wei Ying felt a chill run down his spine, as though someone had poured cold water down his back. Despite being the founder of demonic cultivation, a ghost in a his own right, the savior of the Wen Clan, he had never been able to bring himself to visit this place of death. Nevernight was where his beloved Shijie had died, horribly, violently… where he had died. The lava-stained cliffs had eaten him alive, and were scattered with the remains of all those he could not save. The world may be full of ghosts and demons, but to Wei Ying, only this place was truly haunted. He shuddered, but said nothing as Wen Ning continued.

“Sizhui had never seen it before…" he was saying, "But there was nothing there but ruins. No one had maintained it, and it was overrun with malcontent energy. We did our best to exorcise it.” Wei Ying could tell from his tone that their best had scarcely been enough. Wen Ning looked as though his thoughts were far away, somewhere desolate and sad.

“I wish I could remember how it was before,” said Sizhui regretfully. “My oldest memories are of the Burial Mounds, and being on the road, but I don’t remember anything about where we were coming from.”

“We searched Nevernight for any other survivors, or Wen Clan remnants,” continued Wen Ning, “But everyone is gone.”

This statement hung above them like a shadow, darkening the expressions of all three. Facing Wen Ning and Sizhui, Wei Ying felt the weight of this failure, of his shame. Some fearsome Yiling Patriarch he was indeed, rendered helpless and immobile with one well-placed needle from Wen Qing. It should have been me, he thought. I should have done more.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying said desolately. Wen Ning looked up, surprised.

“No, Wei-gonzi! The fault does not lie with any of us. You have done more for the Wen Clan than anyone. If it were not for you... neither of us would be here now,” he said, sharing a meaningful look with Sizhui. “Do not feel sorry.”

To Wei Ying’s surprise, Sizhui reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly. A memory came back to him then: A-Yuan as a child, reaching out with his tiny hand to comfort Wei Ying after he heard the news of his sister’s marriage. Now, that same child sat before him, grown and healthy and alive. This must be how a parent feels, he thought, looking at Sizhui. As long as he lives, then I have not lived in vain.

“What then?” Wei Ying prompted after a moment.

“We looked around,” said Wen Ning, “and collected what we could- mainly books, some old heirlooms... We found written scrolls of the Wen Clan principles…”

Wei Ying could guess where these had come from. He remembered when Wen Chao had forced all of the descendants of the Cultivation Clans to memorize these principles in a single night, on pain of severe punishment. He had taken that punishment for the sake of the rest. Wei Ying shuddered at the memory.

“…we even found some of my sister’s old medical journals in our rooms!” continued Wen Ning. “Most things written by our clan have all been burned, but Hanguang-Jun deemed these of historical importance, and so he has let them be stored in the libraries at Cloud Recesses. We left after a fortnight, and built a memorial at the city’s entrance.”

“We carved memorial plaques for all those who were executed by Jin Guangshan,” said Sizhui. “Wen Ning explained to me who everyone was as we carved them. My uncles, our cousins…” he trailed off at the memory, then looked up at Wei Ying, eyes fierce. “Now, they won’t be forgotten.”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. Without a word, Wei Ying picked up his cup, and the others followed suit. Lifting their cups, they all drank a silent, melancholy toast. Sizhui only coughed a little this time.

“I am glad you went to see your ancestral home,” said Wei Ying. “And I am glad that you did what you set out to do.”

Another long moment passed. Completing the task they had set out to do scarcely felt like an accomplishment. How fulfilled can one truly feel, memorializing all that you’ve lost?

“Senior Wei,” asked Sizhui eventually. “This is your ancestral home, isn’t it?”

Wei Ying looked up and smiled gently.

“Not exactly,” he explained. “I was raised here in Yunmeng by the Jiang Clan, but I was adopted by them, just as you were adopted by the Lan Clan.” Sizhui smiled at this similarity. “I was an orphan living on the streets when Clan Leader Jiang Fengmian took me in. If he hadn’t, I most likely would not have survived for long.”

Wei Ying looked out of the open doorway at the bustling town square and smiled sadly. He continued, as if to himself.

“We used to spend so many happy weekends here… Jiang Cheng, Shijie, and I...” he said. Remembering himself, he turned back to Sizhui, expression brightening. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour? I know all of the secret paths and ways through this town. You can go get the others, and I will show you around.”

“Sure, Senior Wei,” smiled Sizhui. Then he looked down at the cup in his hand and, with all the determination and steadfastness of someone about to lift something very heavy, brought it to his lips and downed it in one swig. He coughed heartily as he brought the cup back down, eyes watering. Wei Ying reached over and took the empty cup from him.

“Alright, alright that’s enough for you. Go on, go,” laughed Wei Ying. Sizhui got up, bowed to them both, and left. Wen Ning and Wei Ying watched him go, still smiling.

“When you woke me,” began Wen Ning suddenly, “I had no idea how much time had passed.” Wei Ying looked at him, surprised. “I thought that if I had somehow survived, then perhaps everyone had. Perhaps my sister…” he trailed off. He swallowed, then continued, “There is no loneliness on Earth that compares to thinking everyone you have ever loved is gone.” He paused, and watched as Sizhui stopped in the town square to speak to Lan Zhan. Both were beacons of bright white amongst the sea of passers by. “When I found out that Yuan had survived…” Wen Ning continued, eyes welling with tears, “…I was no longer alone. He is the only family I have left in all this world, and I am thankful every day that he survived.” He paused for a long moment before looking at Wei Ying. “You are that to Clan Leader Jiang,” he said.

Wei Ying looked at him, stunned into speechlessness. He sat there for a long time, contemplating these words. The two of them ate and drank the rest of their meal in silence, both thinking of their broken, desecrated families. Both were comforted by the silent presence of the other and in the knowledge that they were, at least, not alone.

Sizhui left the dining room and walked across the square to go find Jingyi and the others. They had said they wanted to explore the marketplace, but Sizhui had no idea where they would be now. It was a bright day, with fluffy clouds sliding swiftly overhead. There was a slight chill in the late spring breeze, but the air was warm. The streets were bustling with people. He felt a little woozy, the alcohol he had just recklessly consumed already doing its work. He felt flushed, but in very good spirits.

“Sizhui,” a voice suddenly addressed him. Sizhui looked around for its source and saw Hanguang-Jun stepping out of a nearby building. Sizhui paled slightly, hoping desperately that Hanguang-Jun would not be able to tell that he’d just drunk alcohol.

“Hanguang-Jun,” Sizhui greeted, bowing. Lan Zhan approached him as the rest of the crowd bustled by. Lan Zhan studied him intently and Sizhui felt his ears grow warm. Mercifully, if Hanguang-Jun could tell what he had been up to, he made no indication of it.

“Make sure everyone is packed and ready for tomorrow," instructed Lan Zhan. "We will leave for Lotus Pier just after sunrise."

“Yes, Huanguang-Jun,” said Sizhui, nodding. He looked up at Lan Zhan, who made no motion to turn or walk away. It looked like he wanted to say something, but was struggling to find the words. Sizhui waited.

“Clan Leader Jiang is to be shown respect,” began Lan Zhan in a measured voice. Sizhui looked at him blankly, puzzled. “And the Jiang Clan is a noble house. However… Lotus Pier has suffered greatly at the hands of the Wen Clan, and this will be hard for them to forget," Lan Zhan looked intently at Sizhui, a fierceness in his eyes. “While we are there, if anyone, even the Clan Leader, says something unjust to you, you tell me.”

Sizhui was stunned at this display of open protectiveness, but nodded.

“Understood,” said Sizhui. How fortunate I am, to have Wen Ning, Senior Wei, and Hanguang-Jun all looking out for me, protecting me all my life, he thought. Perhaps it was the liquor going to his head, but he was suddenly overcome with the emotion of it.

“What is it?” asked Lan Zhan, seeing Sizhui's eyes well with tears. To his surprise, Sizhui looked up and smiled.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Sizhui looked back towards the inn. “I am just really happy Senior Wei is here.”

Lan Zhan followed Sizhui’s gaze up to the inn, where he could see Wei Ying seated at one of the tables inside. His heart warmed. He smiled.

“Me too,” said Lan Zhan.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng stood at the end of the pier, watching as three boats slid silently over the still water of Lotus Pond. The sun was just cresting over the trees, washing everything in pale gold. A soft fog lay over the water which would soon dissipate in the morning warmth. Behind him stood a large group of his disciples, ready to greet their guests and tie off the boats. He clenched and unclenched his hand behind his back, agitated and restless. As always, his mind was a storm of both joy and anger, annoyance and anticipation. The boats that approached were filled with figures all dressed in bright, Lan Clan white. All... expect for one figure in the central boat whom was dressed in jet black.

Zidian crackled.

Wei Ying looked out across the water at the figure of Jiang Cheng, dressed in deep purple, standing stoically at the end of the pier. Wei Ying’s nerves were taut with anxiety as their boat grew nearer. The concerns he had voiced to Lan Zhan were now at the forefront of his mind and in his panic he began to regret coming here. How would things ever be the same between them again? He felt Lan Zhan’s worried gaze boring into him on his right, but Wei Ying kept his eyes resolutely forward.

The hull of their boat connected with the dock with a soft thud, and water lapped at the legs of the pier. Lan Zhan and Sizhui, whom had sailed with Wei Ying, stepped off as two Jiang Clan workers came forward to tie the boat down. Jiang Cheng, whom had been staring intently at Wei Ying as they approached, now fixed his gaze on the two Lan men standing before him.

Sizhui bowed deeply.

"Clan Leader Jiang," Sizhui greeted reverently. His heart pounded, knowing very well how thin the ice was on which he stood. His only source of comfort was the strong, silent presence of Hanguang-Jun beside him. He raised out of the bow and looked up. Clan Leader Jiang was staring down at him, his eyes intense and unfriendly. The sight of it made Sizhui start, and he looked back down, wishing he could make himself smaller.

Lan Zhan looked briefly at Sizhui, then back up at the cold demeanor of Jiang Cheng. Say nothing, he challenged wordlessly.

Jiang Cheng moved his eyes from Sizhui back to Lan Zhan, pursed his lips, and greeted Lan Zhan obligingly.

"Excellency," he said with a shallow bow. He straightened and glanced over Lan Zhan's shoulder, a look of annoyance marring his face.

"Will your guest not also be joining us, Hanguang-Jun?" asked Jiang Cheng sardonically. Lan Zhan turned to look over his shoulder.

Wei Ying had not realized he’d hesitated, still staring intently at his brother. His feet felt like lead. At Jiang Cheng's question, however, he slowly, sheepishly, stepped off the boat and came forward to stand beside Lan Zhan. He was nervous, and tried unsuccessfully to hide it behind a demeanor of playfulness. He glanced over Jiang Cheng's shoulder with a grin.

"Jiang Cheng!" he began, teasing, "This is really quite the welcoming party! I'd hardly expected such a warm welcome."

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

"Don't be stupid. Why would I organize this all for you?" snapped Jiang Cheng. "You really think you're more worthy of this welcome than the gentleman beside you?" he asked, motioning with his chin to Lan Zhan. "Besides, yours is not the only party arriving this morning."

Jiang Cheng moved his eyes back to the water. Wei Ying, surprised, turned to see what Jiang Cheng was looking at. Lan Zhan and Sizhui did the same.

Three more boats were sailing towards them. All of the dock workers and disciples stopped to watch as they approached. As they drew nearer, Wei Ying began to make out details: Flashes of glittering, golden paint adorning the boat's wooden beams, orange silk curtains billowing in the morning breeze, and bright yellow flags, each emblazoned with a glittering white peony, waving gallantly. Wei Ying's heart leapt at the sight. He had not known that the Jin Clan would be arriving here and, judging from the surprised look on his face, neither had Lan Zhan.

The ornate boats connected with the dock and a figure dressed in resplendent gold stepped off, illuminated from behind by the rising sun.

Jin Rulan was now leader of the Jin Clan, and his new appearance reflected this status. His robes were woven with a rich golden fabric, and he clutched his father’s sword at his side. His hair was adorned with braids and beads. Just like how his peacock father used to wear it, mused Wei Ying. Jin Ling looked youthful, handsome, and proud. Wei Ying swelled with happiness at the sight of him.

Jin Ling approached, and all turned to greet him. He was followed closely by an old man and a middle-aged woman, whom Wei Ying assumed must be his advisors. Without hesitation, Sizhui stepped forward and bowed.

"Clan Leader Jin," Sizhui greeted with a friendly smile, and Jin Ling's hauty expression softened slightly at the sight. Jin Ling gave a sheepish sort of smile, still not used to someone his own age showing him such reverence. Then, awkwardly, he gave a shallow, cursory bow to Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, and then to Sizhui. It was very clear that he was not yet used to the motion. He turned to Wei Ying as if to bow to him next, but seemed to think better of it and straightened up.

Jiang Cheng's face twisted with anger.

"What, were you raised in a hut?" barked Jiang Cheng. "What kind of etiquette is that? Just because you are Clan Leader, you think you do not have to bow to your filial elders?" He stepped forward and hit Jin Ling, hard, across the arm. He motioned to Wei Ying. "Show your respect!"

"Ow! Why should I?" demanded Jin Ling obstinately. "He is no filial elder of mine, and he holds no status! You can’t just hit the leader of another Clan- Ow!" He was cut off as Jiang Cheng hit him again.

Wei Ying tried his best not to laugh.

"Jiang Cheng..." Wei Ying began good-naturedly. "It's fine. Leave him alone."

Jiang Cheng ignored him.

"I will hit you as many times as I see fit if you continue to act like a spoiled child! Now, show your respect!"

Jin Ling's face was now bright red, his mouth twisted into a grimace. Deciding there was no use in arguing, he made a cursory bow to Wei Ying, eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

Wei Ying chuckled and stepped forward, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Jin Ling's shoulder.

"Jin Ling..." he began, but Jin Ling recoiled and stepped away. Without a word, he strode away up the dock, leaving Wei Ying's hand suspended in midair. Reluctantly, he let it drop as the rest of the Jin Clan disciples followed. Wei Ying looked sadly at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng's expression was sour, but it was impossible to tell whether he was upset with Jin Ling, Wei Ying, or both.

"Hanguang-Jun, please escort your guests inside," Jiang Cheng said shortly before striding away. He was followed closely by the group of Jiang Clan disciples, and then, with a nod from Lan Zhan, by the Lan Clan disciples. Lan Zhan turned to Sizhui.

"Go on," he said gently. Sizhui nodded, and trotted forward to catch up with the others. Lan Zhan then turned to Wei Ying.

"It's okay," cut in Wei Ying before Lan Zhan could say anything. "It's okay, Lan Zhan. I wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome, was I?" He watched the group of cultivators as they disappeared through the wooden archway that marked the entrance to what was once his home. He sighed. When had home become such a distant memory? After a moment, he turned to Lan Zhan. "We should go."

Lan Zhan nodded. They went forward together, the last ones on the dock.

The main cultivation chamber of Lotus Pier was filled with the curling steam of hot tea and the raucous voices of young cultivators. Jiang Cheng had had the kitchen prepare breakfast, knowing that their guests would be arriving early. The meal was most welcome, and all were now sitting and drinking second helpings, or else standing and talking to one another. The Jin Clan disciples largely sat on one side of the room, while the Lan Clan disciples sat on the other. Neither thought the other was very much fun to talk to. The Lan disciples viewed those of the Jin Clan as trivial and extravagant, while the Jin disciples viewed those of the Lan Clan as stoic and stuffy. Only Sizhui and Jingyi had bridged the gap to go and speak with Jin Ling.

After about a half hour, Jiang Cheng, who was seated at the front of the room, stood up. The room quieted at once. All rose and bowed to him. Jiang Cheng then motioned for them to sit, and they did so.

At the back of the room, leaning against the wall next to the door, were Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Jiang Cheng cast an annoyed glance at the two men, hesitant as always to mingle amongst a group, before addressing the disciples.

"The Jiang Clan is honored to host members of two great Cultivation Clans here," he began formally. "I hope that you will find your time in Yunmeng to your liking. While you are here, you will each receive instruction on the traditions, values, and history of the Jiang Clang of Yunmeng. Lotus Pier has been the site of greatness... as well as of great tragedy. You will be expected to learn this history." He paused, looking pointedly at Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. "A written, official account of the Massacre that took place here just seventeen short years ago is waiting for each of you in your rooms. You will be expected to learn this history while you are here, to understand what transpired... and why." He cast a cold look at Sizhui.

Sizhui met Clan Leader Jiang's gaze- hurt, but steadfast. Jingyi, who was standing beside him, cast a worried glance at Sizhui. On the other side of the room, the Jin clan shifted uncomfortably. Jin Ling's grip on his sword tightened, expression restrained.

"Now that you have enjoyed some refreshment," continued Jiang Cheng resolutely, "You will be shown to your rooms. That is all."

All of the cultivators rose and bowed, and the Jiang Clan disciples came forward to escort them out of the hall. The cultivators all stopped and bowed to Lan Zhan and Wei Ying as they passed.

"Hanguang-Jun. Senior Wei. Hanguang-Jun. Senior Wei..." overlapping voices repeated, until all of the disciples had left the room. Finally, Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, and Wei Ying were left alone.

The room was filled with the distinct silence that follows a boisterous crowd. Dust curled in the thin shafts of sunlight that cut through the room. Tension hummed. Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying stood staring at one another, as though daring one another to be the first to speak.

Lan Zhan cast a quick glance at Wei Ying and, taking this duty upon himself, stepped forward to stand before Jiang Cheng.

"Clan Leader Jiang, thank you for providing my disciples with your instruction," he said formally, bowing.

"Indeed," Wei Ying chimed in derisively, his voice clear and sharp. He sauntered forward to stand beside Lan Zhan. “To receive the instruction from the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng is quite an honor. I am curious, though, what exactly this written history lists as the causes of Lotus Pier’s tragedy?"

Jiang Cheng's temper flared.

"Wei Wuxian!" he yelled. "You know perfectly well what those reasons are! How dare you say such things while standing where my parents died?"

Wei Ying scowled, but did not reply.

Jiang Cheng felt his anger course through him for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes, steadying himself.

“You are a guest of the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng, and of his Excellency,” he said in a measured voice. “I have extended you hospitality. Do not make me regret that decision, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Ying chuckled and shook his head.

“And this is how the Jiang Clan now greets their guests?” He said sarcastically. “By emblazoning their sins upon the door? Slander means nothing to me anymore, Jiang Cheng, but I know what this is really about. A-Yuan was just a child. He has nothing to do with what happened here.”

“He has everything to do with what happened here!” Jiang Cheng barked. “And so do you! He may have been raised by Hanguang-Jun here, may wear the Lan Clan ribbon and speak of Gusu as home, but any Wen you kept alive bears my parents’ blood on their hands!” he snarled. He paused a moment, then continued, coldly, “He must know what happened here if he is to stay. That is my condition.”

“He is well aware! Every disciple is!” yelled Wei Ying. “So what exactly is accomplished by making him feel singled-out? Since when have you grown so cold-hearted?”

Jiang Cheng fixed Wei Ying with an icy stare, but but did not reply. Instead, he turned to Lan Zhan.

“I have done what you have asked, Lan-er-gonzi,” he said coolly. “I have let the boy come. However, how I ultimately deal with guests in my home still falls to me.”

Lan Zhan nodded solemnly. Wei Ying looked at him, affronted.

“Lan Zhan!” He exclaimed angrily.

“Wei Ying,” said Lan Zhan firmly. He shook his head. Wei Ying, though still enraged, backed down. A long, awkward moment passed between them before Jiang Cheng took a deep breath and spoke again.

“I have arranged the rest of what you requested, as well…” he said, not meeting either of their eyes. His lips were pressed into a tight line.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying looked up at him with surprise.

“A week, hence,” he said plainly. He looked up, meeting Lan Zhan’s gaze. Indicating Wei Ying, he said, “Let us speak alone. Someone will show you to your room.”

Lan Zhan nodded and turned to go.

“Lan Zhan,” implored Wei Ying, grabbing his wrist to stop him. A pit of dread had settled in his stomach. He did not want to know what terrible things he and Jiang Cheng would say to each other when left alone. He was already beginning to feel ill from the tension this was causing his Golden Core. Lan Zhan looked at him, and his eyes were fierce, but reassuring. It will be okay, his eyes communicated. Slowly, Wei Ying’s grip on his wrist loosened. With a small nod, Lan Zhan turned and left the room.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying were alone.

Jiang Cheng eased himself out of the Clan Leader’s chair and descended the steps that lay before it. He stood in front of Wei Ying on equal footing. When he spoke again, his tone was more familiar.

“How is it that no matter how long you are gone for, you still manage to enrage me the moment you come back?” he said harshly, but Wei Ying saw the faintest hint of humor playing at the edges of his mouth. “Well? Where on Earth have you been these past months?” Jiang Cheng demanded. “What trouble have you been causing the world this time?”

Wei Ying tested the water.

“Clearly, nothing too bad if you haven’t heard about it yet,” he said.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

“You have been gone for months,” he said, annoyed. “And then you turn up again out of nowhere, unannounced. The least you could do is tell me where you have been.”

“I’ve been traveling,” said Wei Ying plainly. “Here and there... Mainly, I went South. I saw the sea... mountains… jungles, wild and thick and remote…” He looked up at Jiang Cheng. “It is a wide world out there, Jiang Cheng. You should go see it sometime.”

“Ah? And when do you propose I do that?” Jiang Cheng demanded. “Do you have any idea how full I have my hands leading two clans at once?”

Wei Ying had to stifle a laugh.

“You know, I really think that was the first time I've seen Jin Ling bow to anybody.”

Jiang Cheng allowed himself a small smile.

“You have no idea how long it took me just to get him to do that,” he said. He shook his head, exasperated. “How did that kid turn out so pompous? What would my Senior Sister say?”

He had forgotten himself. Their eyes met briefly, then both men looked quickly away. Neither of them were willing to wade into the murky waters of that sorrow quite yet.

“Maybe you're being too hard on him,” said Wei Ying gently. “When I was his age, all I wanted to do was the opposite of what everyone told me to.”

“Yeah? And where exactly did that get you?” snapped Jiang Cheng, but his face fell as he said these words. They had come out more vicious than he intended, and he looked at the floor, ashamed. How often must he say words he regrets?

“I’ll make a clan leader out of that kid yet,” Jiang Cheng said finally.

Wei Ying gave him a weak smile.

“I know,” he said. Then, after a moment, “How have things been here while I’ve been gone?”

“You mean while you were off having adventures and dipping your toes in the sea?” asked Jiang Cheng bitterly. “The rest of us have been hard at work putting the world back together. I doubt your Hanguang-Jun would tell you much about that. He would not want you feeling guilty about leaving us all behind.”

Wei Ying flinched.

“Jiang Cheng... after everything that happened with Jin Guangyao...” he hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts. “Dust needed to settle... I thought that it’d be best if I were out of everyone's way for a while.”

“Yeah? Well... maybe it was only best for you,” said Jiang Cheng after a moment. He had attempted to conceal the emotion behind this statement with anger, but it did not work. Wei Ying heard the sadness, the loneliness, that underpinned his words.

“Why did you let me come back here?” asked Wei Ying seriously.

“Well, I couldn’t just ignore a request from His Excellency, could I?” Jiang Cheng replied, dismissive. Wei Ying pursed his lips.

“Jiang Cheng,” said Wei Ying in an exasperated tone. “You and I both know you hold no great love for Lan Zhan. Why, seriously?” Jiang Cheng avoided his gaze. Wei Ying shook his head. “These past months, I was convinced that you would never want to see me again, not after...” he trailed off, thinking it best not to mention the Golden Core. He said instead, “I never expected to be able to come back here... Especially not for what we have planned…”

Jiang Cheng considered him, temperament cooling. He tried to find the right words.

“My Senior Sister would want you here,” he eventually said. “And… as often as I wish it weren’t so... this was your home.”

Wei Ying felt his eyes fill with tears. In that moment, he acutely felt the immense weight of all that he had lost- Shijie, the home that was no longer his, the brotherhood he and Jiang Cheng had once had. He looked down.

“Jiang Cheng,” he began slowly. “I want us to move forward. But… we cannot do that if I have to keep apologizing for the past.”

For a long moment, they looked at each other. It was as if a sea separated them. Jiang Cheng felt desolate. He dropped his eyes to the floor. When he spoke, it was in hardly more than a whisper.

“Perhaps you cannot keep apologizing… but how am I supposed to forgive you?”

Wei Ying felt a tear fall, unbidden, onto his cheek. Obstinately, he wiped it away. He nodded.

“Well, then. Instead of an apology,” said Wei Ying. “Perhaps you will accept my thanks.” He looked up at Jiang Cheng. Formally, deeply, he bowed. Jiang Cheng watched him. “Thank you, Clan Leader Jiang, for letting me come home.”

Wei Ying rose from the bow and looked up at Jiang Cheng, whose eyes were also full of tears. How cruel life is sometimes, thought Wei Ying savagely, when love is not enough.

Slowly, he turned and left.

Jiang Cheng sank back into the Clan Leader’s chair, alone in the empty hall, and buried his head in his hands.

Chapter Text

“UGH!”

Sizhui heard the exasperated yell from across the room. Looking up from the manuscript he was reading, he saw Jingyi sit up and throw a leather-bound book to the other end of his bed.

“I thought this was supposed to be a trip for leisure, not for work!” said Jingyi grumpily. “If I had known we would have to study, I would have stayed in Yunping City with Wen Ning.”

Sizhui shook his head and returned to his own reading.

“Sizhui, give it a rest,” implored Jingyi. “We’ve been at this for an hour. Besides, it's a beautiful day outside, and this story gives me the creeps.”

It was indeed a beautiful day. It was late afternoon, and the sun was streaming in through the open windows, dusty and golden. The sounds of waterfowl and lapping water echoed into their sunlit room and the green smells of sprouting plants and lake algae perfumed the air. Jingyi looked outside wistfully.

“We need to learn this, Jingyi,” scolded Sizhui without taking his eyes off his book. “Hanguang-Jun is counting on us to be model disciples while we’re here.”

“Psh,” retorted Jingyi. “We already are model disciples, Sizhui. Why else would he bring us along?” He picked up the leatherbound book again and examined its cover. The lotus sigil of the Jiang Clan had been pressed into it. “I wonder why Clan Leader Jiang wants us to read this, anyways? Everybody already knows this history.” He paused, then made a realization. “Oh, oh! Do you think this has something to do with the Clan Leader’s rivalry with Senior Wei?”

Sizhui lowered his book and looked at Jingyi incredulously.

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s making us all read this because of me,” said Sizhui. Jingyi wrinkled his nose.

“What? That can’t be right,” he said skeptically.

“Jingyi, I’m the first person of Wen Clan blood to step foot in Lotus Pier since the events in this book,” he said. Then, slightly embarrassed, he added, “Hanguang-Jun had to specifically ask Clan Leader Jiang’s permission for me to come here.”

“What are you talking about? We were just here a year ago... after the Burial Mounds,” said Jingyi.

Sizhui shook his head.

“I didn’t cross the threshold, remember? I stayed on the docks with Wen Ning.”

“Oh...” said Jingyi, who clearly did not remember this. Sizhui raised his book again and studied it soberly.

“Besides,” he began, “this is history we ought to learn from the Yunmeng perspective. Remember how many details they left out of the burning of Cloud Recesses when we were studying in Jinlintai? Also… this is history I should know. These events are why Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun both took me in when I was little,” he paused, his expression growing remote. “This is why my family was killed.”

Jingyi’s expression changed at Sizhui’s tone. He looked over at him. Sizhui’s expression was sad and distant, and he was now staring, unseeing, at the book before him. Jingyi crossed the room and sat across from him. Gently, but firmly, he took the book from Sizhui’s hands, closed it, and put it aside. He reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Sizhui,” he said gently. “We were barely two when all of this happened. None of this is your fault.” Sizhui looked up at him and smiled sadly. “Besides,” Jingyi continued. “Clan Leader Jiang has let you come here now. It’s okay.”

After a moment, Sizhui nodded reluctantly. Jingyi gave him a reassuring smile, then got up to go make them some tea. It pained Jingyi to see Sizhui feel guilt over something he did not do. He is the best of us, thought Jingyi. Clan Leader Jiang must see that.

Sizhui sighed, then slowly got up and followed Jingyi across the room. He sat across from him at the low table, and took the cup offered to him gratefully. Jingyi, grabbing his own, leaned back leisurely. They sat in comfortable silence as they sipped their tea, looking outside at the sunny courtyard.

“Okay. I’ve been wondering something,” said Jingyi suddenly.

“What?” asked Sizhui.

Jingyi eyed him intently.

“Has Hanguang-Jun told you what this trip is actually for?” asked Jingyi.

This puzzled Sizhui. The purpose of this trip had not struck him as anything particularly mysterious. In fact, he’d hardly given it a thought. He shook his head.

“Hanguang-Jun hasn’t told me anything he hasn’t told everyone else,” said Sizhui truthfully. “And I guess... I didn’t think to ask. Why?”

Jingyi leaned forward and dropped his voice.

“Well… Don’t you think it’s odd that he called us back from night-hunting early, just so we could come to Lotus Pier to… What exactly? Study a history we already know? Drink tea with the Jin clan?” Jingyi shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. And honestly, why is the Jin clan here, anyways?”

Sizhui considered this for a moment. Put like this, he guessed it was a bit odd.

“Hm,” Sizhui contemplated. “I guess... I just figured we were coming here because it was where Senior Wei grew up, and he wanted to visit his home.”

”Then why bring us along? Why make a special exception for you?” questioned Jingyi. “Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun could have just come alone.” He paused, casting Sizhui a meaningful look as he took another sip of his tea. “They spend most of their time alone with each other these days, anyways…”

Sizhui’s teacup stopped in midair. He looked at Jingyi with raised eyebrows.

“What are you implying?” he asked suspiciously.

Jingyi smiled coyly and shrugged.

“I’m not implying anything!” Jingyi said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “People have been wondering, is all. People talk.”

Sizhui gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. He looked at Jingyi skeptically.

“Which people exactly?” inquired Sizhui.

“I am only relaying what I’ve heard!” said Jingyi. Sizhui continued to shake his head as Jingyi continued, “I mean, you have to admit the whole situation is strange. There’s definitely something they’re not telling us.”

“You should not slander others behind their backs,” scolded Sizhui seriously. Jingyi looked at him, surprised.

“How is this slander?” he exclaimed. “It's nice to see Hanguang-Jun in a good mood for a change.”

Sizhui was about to say something else, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of their stomachs dropped in horror. If this was Hanguang-Jun, how much of this conversation had he overheard? With a pit of dread in their stomachs, they rose and went to the door.

Opening it, they were relieved to see that it was not Hanguang-Jun, but a Jiang Clan disciple. They all exchanged bows.

“Lan Sizhui. Lan Jingyi,” the Jiang Clan disciple greeted them with a smile. “I’ve been sent to give you this.”

The cultivator handed Sizhui a small scroll bound with a red ribbon. Jingyi looked at it quizzically.

“What is it-?” he began, but was cut off by Sizhui elbowing him in the stomach.

“Thank you,” Sizhui nodded politely to the cultivator. He bowed to them and left.

Sizhui and Jingyi exchanged a puzzled look before ravenously ripping open the scroll. Jingyi read over Sizhui’s shoulder. Their eyes grew wider and wider as they moved across the page. When they finished reading, they stared at each other, eyes and mouths wide in amazement.

“We have to go tell the others!” exclaimed Jingyi, hardly able to control himself. Hitting Sizhui’s arm to prompt him forward, he bounded out the door before Sizhui could stop him.

“Jingyi! Wait!” cried Sizhui. Hastily, he put the scroll down on a nearby table and ran after him.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying sat at the end of one of Lotus Pier’s long, wooden walkways under a shaded veranda. His shoes and socks were strewn behind him, and his legs dangled in the water, robes pushed up above his knees. He relished the feel of the cool water on his bare skin. The algae from the water’s surface streaked his legs with muddy green. A pile of small stones lay beside him on the wooden dock, the result of a long afternoon’s hunt along the shoreline. He selected one of the stones from the pile and, with intense concentration, loosed it over the water.

One, two, three, four skips it went before it sunk. Wei Ying gazed out at the water’s glittering surface and gave a small sigh. He had not realized just how much he had missed it.

He picked up another stone when, suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind him. He turned around.

Jin Ling was walking leisurely along the pier, alone, gazing thoughtfully out at the water. He stopped mid-step when he saw Wei Ying sitting at the end of the pier. Awkwardly, he turned sharply and began striding back the way he came, as if hoping Wei Ying had not seen him.

“Jin Ling,” Wei Ying called out.

Jin Ling stopped and Wei Ying watched him let out a deep sigh before reluctantly turning around. He stood there a moment, eyeing Wei Ying with distaste.

“I'm not bowing to you,” he declared churlishly.

Wei Ying chuckled and turned back to the water.

“That’s fine. I'm not bowing to you, either,” said Wei Ying with a smirk.

“Well, you should!” snapped Jin Ling. “I am a Clan Leader! Who are you?”

Wei Ying grinned, his back to his nephew.

“Me?” he asked sardonically. “Clearly, I am nobody. I am just a simple man trying to beat his stone-skipping record.”

At this, Wei Ying skipped the stone in his hand. Five this time. Jin Ling rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t you a little old to be playing games?” he asked rudely.

Wei Ying paused with another stone raised. He dropped his hand and turned towards Jin Ling.

“Aren’t you a little young to be so miserable?” he retorted. Jin Ling clicked his tongue as though he were about to argue, but thought better of it. Wei Ying grinned. “Besides… you couldn’t beat me if you tried…”

Wei Ying cast a cheeky glance at Jin Ling before turning back to the water.

“You really think I care about some stupid game?” said Jin Ling. “I’m not a child.”

“Well if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you give it a try?” Wei Ying baited him. He picked up another one of the stones and offered it to Jin Ling.

Jin Ling looked behind him, half debating walking away, half checking that no one was watching. Then, turning back to Wei Ying, he clicked his tongue impatiently and walked forward, snatching the stone from Wei Ying’s outstretched hand.

Wei Ying looked up with a self-satisfied smile. Still sitting at the pier’s edge, Wei Ying watched as Jin Ling clumsily wound up his swing, then loosed the stone. It plunked unceremoniously into the water, without a single skip. Wei Ying broke into peels of laughter.

Jin Ling was furious.

“This is so stupid,” Jin Ling said hotly. “Why am I wasting my time with you?”

Angrily, he turned to go, but Wei Ying caught his arm and held him back.

“Wait, wait, wait,” comforted Wei Ying. “Clearly you just have never been instructed in the delicate art of stone-skipping before.” He stood up. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Jin Ling wrenched his wrist away from Wei Ying.

“I don’t want to learn anything from you!” he snapped childishly.

Wei Ying disregarded this.

“Of course you do,” said Wei Ying dismissively. “This is an essential skill every man should know! Frankly, as a descendant of the Jiang Clan of Lotus Pier, it is your duty to carry on this long and noble tradition. Come on…”

Wei Ying stooped and picked up two stones. He offered one to Jin Ling. Still angry, pride sore, Jin Ling nonetheless took it. Wei Ying smiled encouragingly, then turned to the water.

“Okay. Now watch…” said Wei Ying. He assumed a stone-throwing position, hand poised dramatically. “The trick is keeping the stone parallel to the water,” he instructed. “If you just throw it without any skill, the stone will just break the surface and sink. You have to give the water something to work with. If you throw the stone so that the flat side meets the water…” He loosed the stone, and it skipped beautifully across the pond’s surface. He straightened up, pleased. “…then the stone will skip.” He turned to Jin Ling. “Now you try.”

Jin Ling looked resolute. He adjusted his body to mimic Wei Ying’s stance, but his position was awkward. Wei Ying tsked and, with hands behind his back, walked around Jin Ling to examine his stance. Seriously, Wei Ying placed his hands on Jin Ling’s shoulders, forcing him into a lower stance. With one hand, he raised Jin Ling’s elbow, and adjusted the position of his hand. Jin Ling looked affronted, but, surprisingly, allowed it.

“There,” said Wei Ying, satisfied. He stepped away to give him space. “Now try.”

Jin Ling furrowed his brow in concentration, then loosed the stone. It skipped.

“Aha! Did you see that?” exclaimed Jin Lin ecstatically. His face cracked into a broad smile, and Wei Ying thought he looked, for a moment, incredibly young. “There were at least two skips that time! I-“ Jin Ling’s exclamations cut off as he remembered himself. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and straightened his robes. “I mean. That’s not hard at all. Anyways, it’s childish to skip stones.”

Wei Ying smiled sadly, shrugged, and sat back down at the edge of the pier. He picked up another stone and turned it over in his hands. The rock’s surface was smooth and cool.

“Your mother and I used to play in this water all the time, and she was older than you are now,” said Wei Ying sadly, but this was a mistake.

“You-!” roared Jin Ling, drawing his sword furiously. “How dare you speak of my mother in front of me?”

Wei Ying did not look at him. His eyes were still fixed on the small stone in his hands.

“We’d play all sorts of games,” continued Wei Ying absently. “Stone-skipping. Splashing contests. Frog catching. Rock throwing… We both loved being in the water.” He smiled. “No matter what we played, she’d always let me win. Every time.”

Jin Ling’s sword was still gripped at his side, but it was an empty threat. His anger was quickly being overtaken by his desire to hear more about his mother. He stood frozen, listening to his uncle speak in a low, sad voice.

“Late summer was our favorite time of year, because the lotuses would be ready to harvest. We would go through about a hundred seed pods in a single sitting if we were allowed to. Jiang Cheng, too. I remember when I first came to Lotus Pier, I was so worried about eating fresh lotus seeds straight from the water. I had only ever seen them dried or in markets. I was convinced that if I ate them, a lotus plant would start growing in my stomach. I was so terrified by it that Shijie would have to check my mouth and my stomach to assure me that nothing was sprouting out of them. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized how ridiculous that had been…" He chuckled and shook his head. "I still can’t understand it," he continued. "No matter how many lotus seeds we ate, Shijie would never get one that was bitter. We used to say that the seeds must turn sweet in her hand, because Jiang Cheng and I always ended up with plenty of bitter seeds. She said that we must be taking all the bitter seeds for her… She said that even when we didn’t mean to, her brothers couldn’t help but protect her.” Wei Ying stopped, looking down at the water. He saw circular ripples bloom along its surface as a tear fell from his cheek. “Uncle Jiang would make us come back to shore once the sun set. We would bring back fresh lotus root to the kitchen, and Shijie would make her famous Pork Rib and Lotus Root soup.” He paused, his grief nearly overwhelming him. “I am sorry you’ll never be able to have it…” he said, not really talking about the soup. “It was the best in the world.”

There was silence for a very long time. Then, Wei Ying heard Jin Ling’s sword slide back into its sheath and, to his surprise, felt Jin Ling sit down beside him. Wei Ying looked at him.

Jin Ling sat with his knees tucked to his chest, his father’s sword clutched tightly against him. His face was twisted into an expression of anger and grief, and it was streaked with tears. He was looking out at the water.

“Why did they have to die?” asked Jin Ling.

Wei Ying shook his head.

“I don’t know,” replied Wei Ying desolately.

Jin Ling looked at Wei Ying, and then the last remnant of his composure finally broke. He began to sob. He buried his face in his knees as his whole body wracked with the force of them. He looked so young, so helpless. Without hesitation, Wei Ying enveloped Jin Ling in his arms, resting a comforting hand on the back of his head. Jin Ling was too overwhelmed with grief to protest.

It was easy for Wei Ying to forget at times that this pompous, stubborn boy was also the only child of his beloved Shijie. Holding the weeping boy in his arms, Wei Ying realized that, more than in his memory, more than in the water beneath him, Yanli lived on here: in Jin Ling.

“I’m sorry, A-Ling,” said Wei Ying fiercely, tears sliding down his cheeks.

They stayed like that for a long time, Jin Ling allowing himself to be held.

On the nearby shore, unseen, stood Jiang Cheng, who had watched their exchange in silence. As he watched the son of his beloved sister and his long-lost brother cling to each other, on the docks of his childhood home, he was overcome with the magnitude of his own foolishness. What else is there? He thought. What else could possibly be as important, as precious, to him as this? The sun was beginning to set behind the trees, and fireflies began to blink at the edges of the water.

Jiang Cheng wiped tears from his eyes and cheeks as he walked back to Lotus Pier.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying strolled through Lotus Pier alone, having walked Jin Ling back to his room. The boy had cried for a long time, and the sun had set around them. He would sleep well tonight. Now, the pathways of Lotus Pier were empty and the stars shone overhead. Frogs and crickets were chirping loudly from the nearby water. As he walked, he heard the sound of a guqin playing, issuing from an open window. Lan Zhan. Wei Ying smiled softly to himself as he listened: The sounds of his past and his present mingled together into a single, beautiful, meditative hum.

Reaching the door to their rooms, he stopped and simply listened for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He placed a hand softly on the doorframe and leaned forward, almost touching his forehead to it. After a long moment, he sighed and slid the door aside.

Lan Zhan was playing at the far end of the room, his hair down and unadorned. He looked up as he heard the door open, not missing a single note in his expert playing.

Wei Ying smiled. He looked around at the rooms Jiang Cheng had given them, ornate and familiar, when his eyes landed on two packages sitting on his bed. Wei Ying approached them curiously.

Both packages were flat and wrapped in plain, brown paper. A tassel lay over each. His eyes widened at the sight of them. The tassels were beautiful, adorned with pendants of white jade and made of shimmering golden thread. One pendant was carved into the shape of billowing clouds, while the other was carved into a lotus flower. Gently, Wei Ying lifted the tassel with the lotus pendant and examined it gingerly.

It was expertly made, with hand-carved details adorning the jade's gleaming surface. The thread was soft to the touch.

“Gifts from the Jin Clan,” explained Lan Zhan. Wei Ying looked up at him. Lan Zhan had stopped his playing and was watching him. Wei Ying looked down at the tassel again. Placing it gently aside, he then picked up the paper-wrapped package on which it had been laying. “...and from the Jiang Clang,” said Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying could guess what was inside. He looked up at Lan Zhan, and a soft look passed between them. They smiled.

Jingyi had been disappointed to find that the information contained on the scroll he and Sizhui had received was not, in fact, gossip. Everybody had received the same scroll, bound with a red ribbon: A wedding invitation.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were to be married the following evening before the Ancestral Shrine of Lotus Pier.

Marriage, Sizhui had thought with amazement. It had been quite the shock when he first read it. He had, like the others, grown used to seeing Hanguang-Jun as a solitary figure. However, Sizhui realized, with a slight sense of shame, that he had never really considered that Hanguang-Jun could be lonely in this solitude, and that he could desire companionship and love just like everybody else. Once the initial shock had subsided, it was actually quite natural to put these two together. They were both handsome, esteemed, and learned cultivators and Sizhui had always thought that they reminded him of each other, somehow. Even early on, Sizhui had had the impression that they shared the same, distinct protectiveness over him.

The more he considered this, the more this began to make sense, too. If Hanguang-Jun had not gone to the Burial Mounds before the battle at Nevernight, he never would have found Sizhui there. Sizhui had never given much thought as to why Hanguang-Jun would have gone back there before, but now he could guess. Sizhui had been dear to Senior Wei when he was little. Was it any wonder, then, why he was dear to Hanguang-Jun, too? It was a strange feeling, knowing that you were part of someone else’s story like that. To know that the love held between two people was the reason that you were alive, long before you ever recognized it. This must be how most children feel about their parents, he realized with a wry smile. The thought gave him comfort.

On the following evening, after the sun had set, disciples of the Jiang, Lan, and Jin Clans filed into the Ancestral Shrine. The night was clear and mild, and the stars shone brightly outside. The air of the room crackled with anticipation as the young cultivators whispered to one another excitedly.

“Did you know?” “I told you!” “Since when?” Cutsleeves!” “Hanguang-Jun married?”

Sizhui stood with the other Lan cultivators on one side of the room. He looked up at the shrine in silence as the other cultivators chattered around him. A lump had formed in his throat, and he seemed unable to speak. Jingyi looked at him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“You okay?” asked Jingyi quietly. Sizhui smiled and nodded. He was too overwhelmed with emotion to speak.

Clan Leader Jiang entered and examined the room. Everything had been richly decorated, just as Jiang Cheng had instructed. Red and gold gossamer curtains had been hung about the room’s edges, jars of scented oil perfumed the air, and at least three hundred glittering candles lit the shrine with blinking, golden light.

When Jiang Cheng had received their letter a week ago, asking to be wed at Lotus Pier, he had scoffed at the brazenness of it. How like Wei Wuxian and Second Childe Lan, to request such an expense of him. How very appropriate for Wei Wuxian to show up unannounced, after months away, and immediately antagonize him. But he had obliged. I will not have people think that the Jiang Clan is ungenerous, he had thought bitterly. Now, as he stared up at the memorial plaques of his mother, his father, and Yanli… He was happy that it was here. The words he and Wei Ying had exchanged still weighed heavily on his mind, but he hoped that they could be forgotten for now. This day was not about him.

Jiang Cheng knelt and bowed before the shrine, forehead almost touching the ground. Then, he stood and took his place to its left. Turning, he looked to the doorway, which was open to the soft night air.

Earlier that evening, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had allowed themselves the distinct pleasure of seeing one another dressed before the ceremony. They had opened the packages gifted by Jiang Cheng, put on the crimson robes which they had contained, and then moved aside the screens that separated their adjoining rooms to look upon one another in the candlelight.

Wei Ying had gazed at Lan Zhan, for once not dressed in funeral white, but in marital red. Only his forehead ribbon remained its usual shade of white. Wei Ying’s heart soared. It had only been a fortnight since they had declared themselves to one another, yet Wei Ying did not feel afraid. He had felt love for Lan Zhan long before he knew what it was. And so, when Lan Zhan had asked Wei Ying, quietly and simply, if he would like to marry him, his answer had come easily.

Lan Zhan, meanwhile, had felt his breath catch as the screen door slid aside to reveal Wei Ying, resplendent and beautiful. The magnitude of time they had lost met him in full force then. He had spent sixteen years searching the world, hoping against hope, for any trace of Wei Ying left on this Earth. Even a demon. Even a ghost. But here stood Wei Ying before him, neither of those things. Lan Zhan’s eyes roved over the face that he had once thought was lost to him forever, and he felt that it was nothing short of a miracle that it gazed back at him with mirrored affection. How often had he longed for this? How long had he dreamt of such a day?

When it was time, they walked along the boardwalks of Lotus Pier to the Ancestral Shrine in silence, each of them alight with their own anticipation.

A sharp Pst! suddenly caught their attention from above as they walked, and they looked up to find Wen Ning hiding along the rooftop. Wei Ying laughed in amazement.

“Wen Ning!” He exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. “What are you doing here?”

Wen Ning lifted a sheepish hand in greeting.

“Wei-gonzi… Hanguang-Jun,” he whispered. “Uh- Congratulations! A-Yuan sent me a message. I’ll- I’ll be up here!” He stammered excitedly, pointing to the roof on which he was laying. Wei Ying laughed again.

“Wen Ning, you truly amaze me. If Clan Leader Jiang catches you…”

“No, Wei-gonzi, he won’t! I swear it!” He said earnestly. “I’ll slip out the way I came. Don’t worry. I can see from here.” And with that, he sunk lower behind the roof’s ridge board.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan exchanged a look of amusement and continued walking. Wei Ying smiled to himself, very happy indeed that Wen Ning was here. In the shadows outside of the doorway, they stopped. Wei Ying looked, smiling, at Lan Zhan.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Way ahead of you,” replied Lan Zhan, a smile in his voice.

Together, they crossed the threshold and stepped into the light.

The room took in a collective breath at the sight of the two men: Tall, beautiful, and lordly, like deities out of an ancient song. They were dressed in magnificent crimson robes, exquisitely dyed and intricately embroidered with glittering golden thread. The fabric glistened and flowed as they walked. At their waists hung the golden tassels gifted to them by the Jin Clan.

Jiang Cheng’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of his brother. As always, red was particularly becoming on him, and Jiang Cheng thought that he looked distinctly handsome. Wei Wuxian would be pleased if he knew that, thought Jiang Cheng. He knew how important this day was to him. How often had he had to endure Wei Ying’s and Yanli’s childhood prattle about the perfect wedding, the perfect match, the most auspicious day of each month? They would go on and on about it for hours, he remembered. It had been a realization that filled Jiang Cheng with guilt after Wei Wuxian fell at Nevernight, that he had never gotten the chance to live out those grand fantasies. But now, here Wei Wuxian stood, about to be wed in the home he and Jiang Cheng had once shared. Jiang Cheng had not anticipated the emotions he now felt, and yet they came forth unbidden.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan knelt before a low table that was set below the shrine, Wei Ying to Lan Zhan’s left. The table had been set with incense, a small teapot, and five cups. Immediately, they lit a stick of incense each and placed them upright on the table. Wei Ying looked up at Jiang Cheng.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly.

“Thank you for what?” whispered Jiang Cheng so that only they could hear him. However, even his usual tone of annoyance faltered with the emotions he felt. “You think you could get married without my Senior Sister present? Without my parents, who took you in and raised you? What have they done to deserve being excluded?”

Wei Ying looked up at the candlelit shrine. He wished desperately that those commemorated by it could be here in the flesh. He had had enough of ghosts.

“My Senior Sister…” Jiang Cheng began in a low voice, but seemed to rethink what he was about to say. Swallowing hard, he turned to Jin Ling and addressed the room, “Clan Leader Jin is here in my Senior sister’s place.”

Jin Ling nodded and stepped forward.

“The Jin Clan of Lanling bears witness to this union,” he announced importantly.

“And so, too, does the Lan Clan of Gusu,” said a voice, and everyone cast around for its source.

Lan Xichen, who had been standing unseen in a far corner of the room, now stepped forward into the light.

The room was instantly aghast. The Lan Clan disciples laughed and smiled ecstatically, and Lan Zhan was so shocked that he stood. Wei Ying looked at Lan Xichen in amazement, gratefulness welling in his chest. He had come, after all.

Lan Xichen smiled at them all kindly, then looked meaningfully at his younger brother. Lan Zhan seemed as though he had been turned to stone. He stared, thunderstruck, at his brother, who had not left the cold ice cave for more than a year. And yet here he was, leagues away from Gusu, present on the day of Lan Zhan’s marriage. Lan Xichen approached, and Lan Zhan bowed deeply.

Wei Ying looked up at Lan Zhan fondly, then stood, and bowed in turn.

“Zewu-Jun,” greeted Wei Ying, a broad smile decorating his face. He turned to Jiang Cheng with an incredulous grin. “Jiang Cheng, surely you knew something of this.” Jiang Cheng tried very hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Zewu-Jun arrived this morning,” said Jiang Cheng. “We decided that it would be… prudent, to wait until now to announce it.”

Lan Xichen looked at Wei Ying and Lan Zhan with deep affection and then bowed back.

“Brother…” Lan Zhan managed to say, barely above a whisper. He seemed afraid to move, as though Lan Xichen were an apparition that would dissipate at any moment. Lan Xichen smiled gently.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen began. “Before you departed from Gusu, Wei-gonzi came to speak with me,” Lan Xichen explained, casting Wei Ying a twinkling look. Were it possible for Lan Zhan to look more shocked, he would have. “I have realized that, in my grief, I have forgotten myself,” he looked down ashamedly. “I never should have abandoned you, Wangji. Please forgive me.” Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed. His mind was reeling, but all he could manage to do was stare speechlessly at his brother. “It seems that in my attempt to spare others from harm, I have nonetheless still managed to inflict it.” He looked up at Lan Zhan meaningfully. “The mantle of Clan Leader is yours, for as long as you wish to bear it,” he said. “But should you ever require my help, or my counsel, in the future, I will be there.”

Overwhelmed, Lan Zhan looked down. He could not think of what to say. Without thought, Lan Xichen reached out, placed his hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, bent forward, and placed a tender kiss on the top of his brother’s head.

“I am proud of you, Wangji,” said Lan Xichen, looking into his beloved brother’s face. Lan Zhan’s mouth was pressed into a tight line, and tears gleamed in his eyes. Lan Xichen knew better than to press him to speak, and so turned to Wei Ying.

“Thank you, Wei-gonzi,” he said sincerely. Wei Ying nodded. Then, Lan Xichen turned to Jiang Cheng.

“Clan Leader Jiang, with your permission, may I present them with a gift from the Lan Clan of Gusu?” He asked.

Jiang Cheng nodded.

Lan Xichen turned back to Lan Zhan and Wei Ying and produced from his robes a small gift, about the size of his palm and wrapped in silk. Lan Zhan received it, and turned it over gingerly in his hands. He pulled aside its wrapping and they beheld an octagonal pendant of polished green jade. They recognized the Bagua carved around its edges, and a small yin and yang were at its center. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan both gazed at it admiringly.

“This belonged to our mother,” said Lan Xichen to both of them. Lan Zhan looked up at him in amazement. “When our father and mother wed, this was our uncle’s gift to them,” he explained. “It was both a benefaction... and a warning. The Bagua exemplify the principle that, although nature is filled with opposing energies and forces, it nonetheless exists in perfect harmony with itself. The same may be said of a marriage.” He paused for a moment. “Our mother and father were made of such opposing forces, and yet they fell out of balance and collapsed.” His expression darkened for a moment before he continued. “When I informed uncle that I intended to come here, he gave me this. He had kept it all these years.” Lan Xichen watched as Lan Zhan smoothed a thumb over the pendant’s carven surface. “He passes along with it this message: May history not repeat itself.” Wei Ying and Lan Zhan both stared down at the gleaming jade. Both a gift, and a warning.

“Thank you,” said Lan Zhan, and he and Wei Ying bowed solemnly to him.

Wei Ying watched as Lan Zhan clutched the pendant tightly in his hand, a relic of his beloved mother. He has his own ghosts, too, thought Wei Ying.

Suddenly, Lan Zhan spoke.

“We have a gift to present as well,” he said, addressing Jiang Cheng.

Wei Ying looked at him with surprise. He had no knowledge of this. He tried not to look too curious as Lan Zhan produced a circular piece of white jade bound to a silver tassel from his robes and, bowing, presented it to Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng received it with a quizzical expression and examined it.

“This is a token of passage to the Cloud Recesses,” explained Lan Zhan, and all turned to stare at him. “With it, you are free to visit Wei Ying whenever you wish, and to stay as long as you like.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him, astonished, and so did Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s heart swelled with gratitude. Jiang Cheng looked down at the gift in his hand. He was not being given a beautiful trinket... he was being given his brother. He did not know what to say. He looked at Lan Zhan, affected, and nodded. After a long moment, Lan Xichen spoke up.

“Shall we begin?” He asked with a wry smile.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen took a step back as Wei Ying and Lan Zhan knelt once more before the table. Lan Zhan placed his mother's jade pendant at its center, and Wei Ying smiled at it. They looked at one another and then, with a deep breath, began.

Wei Ying lifted the teapot and delicately poured a small amount of liquid into one of the cups before him. Lan Zhan then did the same. Each taking the cup they had poured in their hands, they lifted them to the shrine. Wei Ying spoke the words that he had memorized since childhood:

“With these, we honor our ancestors, who bear witness to this union.”

And they drank.

They poured two more cups and offered them with outstretched arms, bowing their heads. Wei Ying spoke again:

“With these, we honor the families who would give us to be wed.”

Knowing their cues, Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen stepped forward and exchanged a look. Jiang Cheng took the cup offered by Lan Zhan, and Lan Xichen took the cup offered by Wei Ying. They both drank. Returning the cups, they stepped back again.

Wei Ying then poured the final cup. He lifted it and looked at Lan Zhan. Again, Wei Ying spoke.

“With this cup, we honor each other.”

Wei Ying drank from the cup first, then Lan Zhan. They placed it back on the table.

Here, Lan Zhan looked uncertainly up at his brother. Lan Xichen smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. Mouth pressed into a tight line, ears going slightly red, Lan Zhan slowly lifted his hands to his hair and untied the ribbon about his forehead. The Lan Clan disciples shifted and muttered as the ribbon slipped away and Lan Zhan held it before him in his hands. They had never seen Huanguang-Jun without it before, and it felt mildly indecent.

Lan Zhan then reached down and took Wei Ying’s right hand in his left. Deftly, he looped the ribbon about their wrists, binding them together. Wei Ying looked from the ribbon to the shrine and had to stifle a laugh.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, smirking. “This is all feeling very familiar.”

“Hush,” Lan Zhan scolded, but there was amusement in his voice that made Wei Ying smile.

They stood, took a few steps back, and then knelt again.

A year ago, they had come here to pay respect to those whom Wei Ying had lost, and they had bowed three times: Once for Uncle Jiang, once for Madam Yu, and once for Yanli.

Now, once again, they would bow three times before this shrine.

Once, to the Heavens and the Earth.

Twice, to their ancestors and their families.

They paused and looked at one another. This was the moment of culmination. With the next movement they made, they would be bound together for life. Joined, in every possible way two people could be. They had faced danger and death together, loss and prejudice, fear and anxiety. Now, before them, lay the promise of a gentle future- of partnership, equality, strength, and peace. The sacred Lan ribbon wrapped around their wrists bound together their hands that would, from this moment on, work alongside one another, comfort one another, give unto one another, and love one another.

They took a deep breath and bowed for a third time. To honor each other.

They rose out of the bow as husbands.

The room broke into whoops and applause, and Wei Ying let out a joyful laugh. Lan Zhan loosed the ribbon from their wrists and skillfully replaced it back around his forehead. They did not let go of each other’s hands as they stood.

Wei Ying looked at Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, standing together to the left of the shrine. They were smiling and clapping, and Wei Ying thought he could see a gleam of tears in Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

Lan Zhan also looked at his brother. That Lan Xichen had come to witness this, the most precious moment of Lan Zhan’s life, meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. Lan Xichen gazed back at him. He would not have missed this for the world.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were nearly pitched over as Sizhui bounded forward and enveloped them in a hug. They smiled as they held him, their faces inches apart.

This outburst sufficed to break the formality of the room, and the cultivators began to spread out and mingle amongst each other. When Sizhui finally broke the hug, Lan Zhan kept an affectionate hand on Sizhui’s cheek and looked down at him warmly. They smiled at each other and Wei Ying’s heart swelled at the sight.

“Look, Lan Zhan,” laughed Wei Ying, clapping Sizhui on the arm. “We already have a little one!” Sizhui laughed, and Lan Zhan smiled.

Jiang Cheng eventually announced to the room that the celebratory banquet would be held in the cultivation chamber. Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan. “Let’s go,” he said encouragingly, and Lan Zhan nodded.

With Wei Ying by his side, he would go anywhere.

Chapter Text

The sounds of the on-going wedding festivities could be heard, distant and raucous, from the pier. From here, the noise mingled with those of the water lapping along the shore, the occasional splash of fish jumping, and the hum of frogs. Looking out at the dark water, Jiang Cheng watched as the stars blinked in the rippling waves of the pond. The air was growing chilly as the warmth of the day dissipated, and he breathed in the night air deeply.

“I knew I’d find you out here,” said a voice from behind him. Jiang Cheng turned and saw Wei Ying standing, arms crossed, at the top of the pier. Wordlessly, Jiang Cheng turned back to the water. He could feel Wei Ying’s footsteps reverberate as he came to stand beside him.

The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the black water of the pond.

“This was always the best pier to get a running jump into the water from,” said Wei Ying.

“Remember that one time you slipped?" said Jiang Cheng. "You would have thought you’d cracked your head open from the way you went on about it.”

Wei Ying smiled at the memory.

“Hey, it hurt!” He said defensively. “Besides, you know how Shijie would always sneak us extra treats from the kitchen when we were injured. It was worth playing it up.”

They both smiled. Wei Ying stifled a laugh as another memory came to him.

“Remember when I pushed you out of our boat in the middle of the lake?” he asked. “You wailed like you were drowning.”

“I was drowning!” snapped Jiang Cheng, hitting Wei Ying across the arm. Wei Ying chuckled.

“Psh. You were fine!” retorted Wei Ying, rubbing the spot Jiang Cheng had struck him. “You were born swimming. No way you could have drowned.” He smiled. “Madam Yu made me kneel for a whole week after that. I’m pretty sure she thought I was vying for future Clan Leader, trying to get rid of my competition.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked at Jiang Cheng, who rolled his eyes.

They stood, silently reminiscing for a moment. Finally, Jiang Cheng spoke.

“I can’t believe you’ve married a Lan,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “What are you going to do, huh? How many times are you going to be punished now? We weren’t there two days the first time before you got beaten to within an inch of your life. My mother pales in comparison.”

Wei Ying smiled at the irony of it all.

“Well… Hopefully she’s satisfied now,” said Wei Ying. “Someone has to carry on her noble tradition of keeping me in line. Plus, this way, I don’t have to bother you anymore. She’d be glad I’m someone else’s problem now.”

Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue.

“You’ll always be my problem,” he retorted. If this statement had meant to convey annoyance, it failed. Wei Ying smiled softly to himself, recognizing the love in these words.

“Thank you, Jiang Cheng,” said Wei Ying after a moment. “For all of this.”

Jiang Cheng said nothing. Wei Ying sighed, and looked down at the water, melancholy.

“We’re supposed to have a good lotus crop this year,” said Jiang Cheng suddenly. Wei Ying looked at him. His expression was unreadable. “Perhaps… you could come for the harvest.”

Wei Ying blinked, speechless.

Wei Ying had always pictured any reconciliation between them as a hurdle he dreaded having to jump. More recently, he began to wonder whether it would ever be possible at all. He would not continue apologizing to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng had not expressed any words of forgiveness to him…

But did it matter?

Now that it came to it, Wei Ying considered whether forgiveness was, perhaps, something gentler, more subtle, than he’d previously thought. What was forgiveness, if not the slow letting go of pain? What was it, if not the deliberate decision to look forward, instead of back? Was this not what Jiang Cheng was doing? Perhaps grand words of apology were less important than this: His brother was inviting him to the lotus harvest, inviting him to remain a part of his life, inviting him to share in future joy.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said sincerely. They stood there in silence for a long time, listening to the sounds of Lotus Pond decorate the night air. A small pinpoint of hope, like the blinking of the fireflies around them, had been kindled in each of them.

“You should go,” said Jiang Cheng finally. “Your husband will be wondering where you’ve gone.”

It was the first time Wei Ying had heard the word spoken aloud, and it made his stomach flutter. He looked at Jiang Cheng, affected by the sentiment, stated as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

And what was love, if not acceptance?

Jiang Cheng turned to him. Looking at each other now, they began to realize that all of the hurt and anger for which they had suffered was slowly and quietly slipping away.

“Go!” Jiang Cheng finally said, exasperated, and Wei Ying laughed lightly. He placed a hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, gave it a firm squeeze, then turned and walked back up the pier. Jiang Cheng turned back to the water, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He smiled.

Chapter Text

They spent a blissful week in Lotus Pier. The young cultivators of the three clans had warmed to each other, helped considerably by the drink and merriment that followed the marriage ceremony, which had lasted late into the night. They had since been fishing and swimming together, and had practiced their swordsmanship, swapped night-hunting stories, and played music. The history books they had been assigned to read lay forgotten in their rooms.

They were very careful not to disturb Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Whenever there was need to pass by their rooms, the cultivators would try to find an alternative path, or else give their door a wide berth. No one was keen to accidentally intrude upon them, or hear something that they shouldn’t.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying were often in their rooms. They spent many long mornings and drowsy afternoons secluded together in the week that followed their marriage. Whenever they did venture out into Lotus Pier, walking leisurely along the boardwalks together, all were eager to get their attention. The weather had turned warm, and Wei Ying had been invited to boat and to fish. Lan Zhan, meanwhile, would often be implored to play them music. When they did not dine privately in their rooms, they ate their meals with Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen, and Jin Ling. In the warmth and ease that followed the wedding, they all began to feel a distinct sense of healing. The past was growing further away.

Finally, though, it came time for the Lan Clan to return home. They had packed their belongings, and gathered at the docks with the Jin Clan and the Jiang Clan. It was evening, and the sun was low. It was nearly gone behind the trees. As all of the disciples boarded the boats, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying stayed behind for a moment to say their farewells. The Lan disciples waited for them patiently.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with us? We don’t set off for Gusu until tomorrow,” Wei Ying asked Lan Xichen. He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “First, I think it is about time I went to Jinlintai. It seems I have been neglecting more than one new Clan Leader.” He looked to Jin Ling, who held his gaze as he continued, “My actions put this burden upon Jin Ling. It is past time I helped him bear it.” Jin Ling nodded shyly, reluctant but grateful.

“What will you do?” Lan Xichen asked, turning back to Lan Zhan.

“We will stay in Cloud Recesses for a month. Then, Wei Ying and I will travel abroad for a while,” said Lan Zhan.

“I will be there when you do,” said Lan Xichen reassuringly. They shared a look.

“Thank you, brother,” said Lan Zhan sincerely.

“See you soon,” smiled Wei Ying. Lan Xichen returned his smile and nodded. Then, Wei Ying turned to Jin Ling.

“Farewell, Clan Leader Jin,” said Wei Ying in a tone of sincere, if not exaggerated, formality. He bowed.

Jin Ling looked down sheepishly. Then, after a moment, he returned the bow, low and reverent and correct. As he rose, Wei Ying crinkled his nose affectionately at him, and Jin Ling allowed himself to smile. There was a newfound fondness between them, and Wei Ying was already eager to see him again.

Finally, Wei Ying turned to Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng…” began Wei Ying, but trailed off. He did not know how to address the change that had taken place between them. Jiang Cheng looked at him with great emotion.

“Take care,” Jiang Cheng finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. They looked at each other for a long moment and smiled.

"You too," replied Wei Ying softly. They would see each other again, soon enough.

“Thank you, Jiang Wanyin,” said Lan Zhan sincerely. Jiang Cheng tore his eyes away from Wei Ying to look at him. He nodded respectfully.

“We should get going,” Lan Zhan said gently. If they were to get to the inn at Yunping City before dark, they would need to set off. With one last look to his nephew and his brother, Wei Ying finally turned to Lan Zhan and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Together, they boarded the central boat, which was left empty for them, and turned to face the figures on the dock. The boats set off, and all waved farewell as they retreated across the water. The setting sun cast over them all a warm, golden glow.

“How are you, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan eventually asked. Their eyes were still glued to the figures on the dock, small now, and far away.

“I think…” began Wei Ying thoughtfully. “That things may be okay.”

Lan Zhan looked at him. Wei Ying smiled and reached out, taking one of Lan Zhan’s hands in his.

“Also,” began Wei Ying, turning to him. “I am ready to go home with my husband.”

Lan Zhan blinked at him, and his eyes narrowed into one of the soft, restrained smiles that Wei Ying always treasured to see. His eyes roved over Wei Ying’s face, and the love he felt almost overwhelmed him.

“Me too,” agreed Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan reached out a hand and gently, slowly pulled Wei Ying’s face to his. Their lips met in a soft, ardent kiss, and they held each other as the light burned golden and the wind danced around them.

The joy that they now felt was not that of indefinite happiness, but of indefinite love, for their future would indeed hold both hardship as well as joy. They would have need to endure, in the long years that stretched before them, tragedies, disasters, challenges, and setbacks. They both knew that this golden moment on Lotus Pond was a fleeting, precious thing. And yet… no matter what the future held, no matter what darkness they would have need to face, they would not endure it alone. They would have their brothers with them. They would have Sizhui, Jin Ling, Wen Ning, and all those who loved them by their sides.

They would have each other.

Wei Ying smiled against Lan Zhan’s lips. A lasting future, full of fulfillment and love, indeed now lay before them.