Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji was tired.

His fingers were tired of playing the same song every night, his dreams were tired of being plagued by the same smile, his bones and soul were tired of waiting.

Every morning when he woke up, he had on the tip of his tongue the same sad name

Wei Ying

No one called him that anymore, everyone whispered profanities and insults about Patriarch Yiling, told dark and bloody stories about his crimes, judged and mocked, laughed and feared, but no one called him Wei Wuxian anymore.

He was his golden boy, his great love, his predestined one.

Lan only love once, he had read when he was little, and he hadn't been able to understand it until he was blinded by Wei Wuxian's smile, until he blushed at his shamelessness, until he missed him with a depth that hurt when he left.

Sometimes, Lan Wangji wondered if accessing the afterlife would make him meet his love.

Could he finally see him there? 

Could he hold those deft and strong hands?

Could he hold his face and claim his lips?

It would be enough for Lan Wangji to see him, to know that he was still there, that his brilliance and big heart were not a mere figment of his mind, that the man he had fallen in love with was real.    

He had started drinking alcohol, and on his darkest nights he imagined Wei Wuxian was there, teasing him and laughing nonchalantly. It always broke him and made him cry and beg him to come back to him, to come back to his side, that they could go wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, live however he wanted as long as he didn't separate from him.

Sometimes, Lan Wangji would come out of his unconsciousness only to find the sad and resigned look of Lan Xichen, his beloved older brother who had always wanted to protect him from everything but who had no solution for his problem, a problem he had helped to create, although Lan Wangji did not like to dwell too much on that, because imagining his beloved brother ordering to besiege the Burial Mounds left him feeling cold.       

"Wei Ying," he whispered before going to sleep "Where are you?"

It had been two years since he had received his punishment and declared himself in seclusion.

Scars had formed over the whip mark, and now his back was furrowed with multiple lines that had long since stopped hurting. From time to time, Lan Wangji wondered if Wei Ying would have cared about his marks, if he would care if he knew he got them for protecting him, if he would one day be encouraged to kiss them one by one.

But there was no use wondering that, because Wei Ying was no longer there. 

And Lan Wangji's heart ached for that.

It hurt him so much

He would trade a thousand times that pain for the pain of whipping, he would live with a bleeding, swollen back if it would relieve just a little of the sinking in his chest.

He had two little rabbits that he treated more than the others, they were a white rabbit and a black rabbit. These rabbits were always together, the black rabbit would frolic, hop and run around the meadow behind the Jingshi while the white rabbit was quieter and more peaceful, this rabbit preferred to nibble quietly on his lettuce leaves in the shade of the trees.

And although they were complete opposites, and sometimes separated due to the black rabbit's mischievous nature, at the end of the day they would snuggle up to each other and put their noses together.

Lan Wangji found it hard not to cry when he saw the beautiful picture they made sleeping together, it made him think of what might have been if he could have helped Wei Ying, if he could have saved him from the hypocrisy of the big sects who were on his side as long as he was useful to them and destroyed him when they didn't need him anymore.

Sometimes, he imagined Wei Ying taking his hand that fateful night when he and Jiang Wanyin found him after months of searching. In his fantasy he would hold tightly his beloved's hand and lead him to the Cloud Recesses and.... and that was where his illusion ended.

What happened after that?

Lan Wangji didn't know, a free soul like Wei Ying's couldn't lock himself up or hold back. All the rules, the protocols, the courtesies, he knew that his beloved would despair, that he could never flourish if he locked himself in such a place.

But he also knew no other way to keep him safe without Gusu Lan's support behind him, at that time, Lan Wangji did not have the power to take on any sect on his own. 

Things would have been complicated, of that he was sure, but he would have fought tooth and nail, he would have given his life and soul to keep Wei Ying safe.  

He deeply regretted that the light in his eyes had not taken his hand that day, but he could not find it in his heart to blame him either.  

The relationship between him and Wei Ying when he was still alive was somewhat strange.

Before the estrangement, harsh words and misunderstandings, when they were still studying in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Ying would follow him around trying to tease him or simply get his attention.

At first, Lan Wangji felt a deep exasperation that forced him to keep an eye on Yunmeng Jiang's senior disciple to prevent him from breaking the rules of his home and disturbing the peaceful and quiet place.

Looking back, Lan Wangji was able to tell that what he had felt was a total and overwhelming fascination, but of course, that conclusion had been way over his head at the time, so when he began to feel a bundle of nerves in his stomach every time he saw Wei Ying his only reaction was to try to move even further away from him, totally confused by whatever it was he was feeling.

His doubts were cleared up when a couple of months later he saw Wei Ying walking down the steps of the Cloud Recessional next to the then sect leader Yunmeng Jiang. At that precise moment he felt a deep emptiness inside him that could only be filled by the noisy boy on his way back home that he could not stop.

That day all the love songs and poems that never caught his attention made sense, the tears and sighs of the lovers in the plays made sense, the despair that tinged their faces when they were forced to walk away from each other.

That day, Lan Wangji finally accepted what he had tried so hard to deny, that he was deeply and totally in love with Wei Wuxian.

🌸🌸🌸

Jiang Cheng was lonely

Of course, this in the literal sense did not take on too much meaning. He had a contingent of new disciples hanging around him all day long, some seeking advice, others with requests that he endeavored to fulfill as long as they were reasonable, and just as many simply carrying out their assignments and working close to him.

So, Jiang Cheng was not alone.

But the way he felt he might as well be stuck in the middle of the desert unable to find signs of life.

His disciples didn't know what to think of him and he didn't know what to think of them.

It really was a somewhat complicated situation.

Of course, those who joined during The Sunshot Campaign followed him because he promised them something they craved: revenge.

Most of the people who fought against the Wen had a personal motive behind their fight: A village razed to the ground, a sister raped, parents killed, brothers taken away to "serve," former disciples of minor sects mourning their comrades, each person had their own story and had taken to the battlefield in search of blood.

It was much easier to survive in that frenzy of madness and violence that was war if you were under the name of some sect.

When someone became a disciple and took on the colors of their new sect they were given food, clothing, and participated in coordinated and planned attacks, again, being part of a sect was convenient. 

The disciples who came to him during that time only took his colors because Yunmeng Jiang was the only "major" sect desperate enough to accept anyone who had a modicum of cultivation talent and could swing a sword.

Men and women who would otherwise have had to settle for a minor sect suddenly saw the opportunity to join the once mighty Yunmeng Jiang sect.

The other major sects were in a position to be much more selective with the people they recruited, Qinghe Nie had a good number of disciples so they only accepted those who could handle a saber, or no longer needed instruction on how to handle their weapons, they could not afford to teach someone to use a sword when they used something different.  

Gusu Lan took in a number of cultivators as well, but they did not wear the characteristic white robes or the flashy headband. The message was clear: they would only be part of Gusu Lan during the war, when the war was over only a few could stay.    

Lanling Jin hardly had any participation in the campaign, they sent a few squads and one or two strategists to make an appearance, but they were not fully involved as the other sects, so they did not need to recruit anyone.

So yes, Yunmeng Jiang was the only option among the 4 major sects that everyone could access.

Always in need of people, they came to accept civilians who did not have the capacity to fight for revenge but who were willing to help in whatever was necessary; and although the latter were not named disciples for obvious reasons, they received practically the same treatment.

Widows, mothers, sisters, brothers, even old men who had lost their loved ones at the hands of the Wen were willing to wash, cook, clean, mend and heal the cultivators who would bring them in return the blood of their enemies on the blades of their swords.  

Many of them left when the war ended, having completed their mission there they returned to their homes to pray for their dead, to honor and remember them, they no longer had anything to do with him.

So many others stayed, those who had lost everything and had nowhere and no one to return to, a group of them settled in Yunmeng City when they returned and began to work and trade while the others became servants and continued to work for the Yunmeng Jiang sect as thanks.

The disciples on the other hand were a different matter.

Some of them went to try their luck with other sects once they left the big tents and arrived at a ruined Lotus Pier, once they understood that there were no rooms for everyone in that place and they had to sleep all together in one of the few halls that remained standing, when half of their time was spent on cultivating and the other half on rebuilding, raising wood and nailing boards wherever they were ordered to.

And those who decided to stay didn't quite know how to feel about their sect leader.

Respect was there, of course, but not loyalty or affection, they had all been random individuals brought together for the same goal and now that that goal had been met there were too many loose ends that no one seemed to have any idea how to tie up.  

To be fair, Jiang Cheng hadn't exactly been worried about his relationships with his disciples either, in those times he was juggling the political situation there with two sect leaders and the son of another announcing their sworn brotherhood which left Yunmeng Jiang even more vulnerable than before and the dangerous ticking time bomb that seemed to be his then right hand man. 

The Wei Wuxian affair that came after the campaign was not something Jiang Cheng liked to think about.

That had been his shixiong, his best friend, his brother.

And it had also been the man who preferred the remnants of the sect that brought him so much pain and destruction, to the sect that took him in when he was nothing more than a wanderer who could barely survive. The man who slaughtered just under 3000 cultivators who had fought alongside him during the Sunshot Campaign, even if they didn't always agree with his methods. Also the man who killed his brother-in-law.

The man who caused the death of his sister, which for all practical purposes was as if he had killed her himself.

The man who orphaned his nephew.

The Wei Wuxian who died in the Burial Mounds was not the same one he had gotten drunk with on the shores of the lake surrounding his home, not the same one he used to joke with and trusted unconditionally until it was too late, and oh, how much he regretted that.

The Wei Wuxian they encountered at the siege was consumed by demonic energy, full of resentment and no sign of sanity.

Jiang Cheng witnessed for the second time how the demonic cultivation consumed people and deformed them into something grotesque and horrible that barely resembled what they used to be. He saw the twisted strands of dark energy and overwhelming murderous intent, he saw the empty eyes and trembling hands, he saw the despair and pain.

And Jiang Cheng felt fear.

Two years after the death of his once right-hand man, Jiang Cheng still spends time extirpating such rottenness from the face of the earth, searching for, punishing and harshly judging those who commit heinous acts using the energy of demonic cultivation.

And if he becomes overly tense when he encounters some dark arts cultivator with a black bamboo dizi, his disciples do not mention it.

If he asks invasive and desperate questions no one questions him.

And when he finishes with them and sits by the lake with a bottle of wine and something suspiciously elongated wrapped in cloth and pressed tightly against his chest no one says anything.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji liked to play

Even when his fingertips were bleeding and his short fingernails were splintering under the pressure, Lan Wangji liked to play.

The sound of his guqin's strings was a great distraction from the loneliness and quiet of the Jingshi. On days when the silence around him was too oppressive, the music dancing in the air made him feel less...alone.

Of course, he still received the occasional visit during the week, usually from his brother or uncle. Both concerned about his health and well-being, always asking questions about whether he had eaten well, how much sleep he was getting, and how he was feeling.

The first time his uncle saw his bleeding fingers he sighed slowly and asked no questions.

It would be in vain, he had heard Lan Wangji play the same song every night and had failed to make him desist. At this point his youngest nephew had become difficult to control. Whatever he was doing, Lan Qiren no longer had the power to stop him, only to mitigate the damage.

Lan Wangji received a visit from his uncle the next day, who brought with him bandages and ointments which he quietly delivered. Lines of worry were evident on his face, but Lan Wangji found no strength within himself to reassure him, lying, after all, was forbidden.

His brother's visits, contrary to his uncle's were longer and full of conversation.

Lan Xichen always tried very hard to make Lan Wangji comfortable and not feel pressured to break his seclusion. He tried so hard that sometimes Lan Wangji felt guilty for putting so much pressure on his older brother, who had his own problems and responsibilities, but still was always looking out for his younger brother.

Lan Wangji was dying to tell him that everything was fine and that he would be out of Jingshi soon, but every time he tried he felt a painful lump form at the base of his throat and get stuck so tightly that it prevented him from breathing, let alone saying anything.

Perhaps his brother sensed his desperation, because he changed the subject every time Lan Wangji feared he would choke on the torrent of words he found himself unable to spill.

Lan Xichen's talks were usually filled with news about the cultivation world in the absence of interesting things happening within the Cloud Recesses: infuriating stories about Nie Mingjue trying and failing to discipline Nie Huaisang, the strong fits of rage Sect Leader Nie had that didn't seem to subside even with Jin Guangyao's help, the appearance of a demonic cultivator who ravaged a minor sect and after countless heinous crimes was captured by cultivators Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan.

Gossip was forbidden, but objective narration of true facts was not.

Lan Wangji also heard about Jiang Wanyin, heard about how he was rebuilding his sect, how he seemed to have trouble socializing properly with other sect leaders, how his reputation as a cold, hard man had spread far and wide.

Lan Wangji heard about Jiang Wanyin's relentless hunt for demonic cultivators.

Lan Wangji hated him.

He hated that he was there, alive, while Wei Ying's remains hadn't even been able to be found.

He hated that he presented himself as the leader of the Yunmeng Jiang sect when the only reason he was present and even why he and the others had won the war was because of Wei Wuxian, who gave him unconditional support in his time of greatest need.

He hated that he continued to live without remorse and publicly despised the memory of the man who had once been his brother.

He hated that he was hypocritical enough to turn against demonic cultivation when he had previously defended it. Of course, he agreed with the use of resentment when it was on his side, but condemned it when he no longer needed it.

Lan Wangji hated him

Of course, his thoughts about Jiang Wanyin were never mentioned to Lan Xichen, but his brother must have noticed something on his face because his mentions of the Jiang sect leader became reduced. The last Lan Wangji heard of him was that he demanded that his nephew spend certain months at Lotus Pier, much to the uproar of the Lanling Jin council of elders.

He did not know if he was granted permission, nor did he dare to ask.

Lan Xichen also brought him news of Lan Yuan, the boy he had struggled to bring with him and with whom he had had little contact since entering seclusion.

The boy was doing well, his brother told him, he was sweet and well-behaved and fulfilled his duties.

Lan Wangji felt affection for him. He did not know him for long, the visit he paid to Wei Ying was not very long and he was more focused seeing the clearly deplorable state of his beloved. But the day he arrived at the Burial Mounds and found nothing but ruins and a thin child hidden in a tree trunk a feeling of protectiveness such as he had never known spread throughout his chest.

He got the child smuggled in on a visit from Lan Xichen. He was much healthier than the last time he saw him and he still recognized him. It warmed Lan Wangji's heart.

The last of Wei Ying was in front of him and he was not willing to let anyone or anything harm him.

Months passed and the sect leaders Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangshan died.

Lan Wangji witnessed the dark circles under his brother's eyes and trembling hands as he broke the news of his sworn brother's death, saw the sadness in his eyes, the invisible weight that slightly curved his always impeccable posture.

Jin Guangyao assumed the position of sect leader.

To Lan Wangji he did not seem particularly good or particularly bad. He committed many atrocities under Wen Ruohan's command, but on the other hand he did so in order to serve as a spy and deliver crucial information to them that led them to win the war.

Jin Guangyao's other half-brothers did not come forward or show any interest in the succession of power, so there was not much choice either.

Lan Xichen cared, Lan Wangji did not.

He continued to play through the nights, extending his call to his beloved.

Playing in the moonlight became a kind of habit, after filling his heart with hope and despair once again, he would play sad melodies that only reflected the state of his heart.

Sometimes, when he felt particularly empty, he would play Wangxian, the song he had composed for Wei Ying that always brought back beautiful memories of the days when the other half of his soul was still alive.

The notes of that song brought back to his memory the luminous laughter of his predestined one, the soft breath he felt brushing his cheeks the day when full of nerves he dared to kiss him, the precious rosy hue of his face when he succumbed to sleep in the cave of the Xuanwu.

His dreams were plagued by Wei Ying.

During the day he thought of him and during the night he dreamed of him.

Lan Wangji's heart was full of love and sadness.

And he didn't know how to make it stop hurting.

Half a year later, one cloudy, cold morning and feeling tired to the bone, Lan Wangji got up, dressed, picked up his sword and guqin, went downstairs, walked to the door and opened it.

His heart would never tire of weeping, but his soul still longed to live.

🌺🌺🌺

Like every good man in Yunmeng, Jiang Cheng liked to drink.

Of course, that didn't make him an alcoholic, just someone with a slight penchant for drinking when dealing with strong emotions.... Which used to be a good part of the time. Well, maybe he had a few more drinks than the average person and lingered a little longer than he should in bars. But they couldn't blame him, he was going through a bad time and alcohol never judged him.

The last three years had passed between negotiations, agreements, contracts, debts and more debts.

And Jiang Cheng was a bit tired

Reactivating the economy in Yunmeng had also been difficult, and although such matters were part of the city governors' duties, the city had been destroyed in the midst of an attack on Yunmeng Jiang, so as a sect leader he had to take on his role in rebuilding the city.

Great, that was more work.

The main pavilion, reception halls and the pier had been the first things to rebuild because they were part of the facade and image of the sect.

His greatest efforts were to convey to the cultivation world that the Yunmeng Jiang sect had become bigger and stronger than before, and for that, image was important.

Training with the disciples was something he was in charge of three days a week, the other days were assigned on a rotating basis with some senior disciples who survived the massacre and fought alongside him.

The paperwork was exasperating, the signatures, the permits, the haggling, the useless obligatory courtesy lines that gave him headaches. It was all stressful.

There were few people he would allow himself to trust to ease his burden. Spies could be everywhere and at such times a small slip in the budget or a lost contract could be heavy blows to his precarious financial situation. Therefore, Jiang Cheng personally took care of all the important paperwork and left the minor stuff to the senior disciples with whom he was somewhat close, which were not many either.

The situation with Lanling Jin was... tense at best.

When Jiang Yanli got married, there were rumors everywhere that Yunmeng Jiang was so poor that the sect leader had to sell his sister to alleviate his situation somewhat.

Of course, that was far from the truth in which Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan decided to marry because of their mutual feelings. But Jiang Cheng could see why the rumors.

With the alliance established between the two sects through marriage the only sect to benefit was Yunmeng Jiang. In earlier times it would have been equal treatment, but after the war the situation of the Jin and Jiang was by far the same.

Jiang Cheng gained from the alliance beneficial contracts and loans, as well as support in the overall political landscape from another large sect, so negotiations and speculation of his lack of funds among the merchants were silenced by allying with the richest sect of all. For his part, Lanling Jin gained no benefit other than the promise of Yunmeng Jiang's support and the return of favors as well as loans when Lotus Pier fully rose again.

This arrangement did not please everyone.

The council of elders had recommended Jin Zixuan to take some maiden from Gusu Lan or Qinghe Nie as his wife, even a not so big sect would be fine as long as it brought benefits for everyone, but Jin Zixuan refused and followed along with his mother's support with the engagement, so they both got married and had Jin Ling some time later.

And that was another reason why relations with Lanling Jin were not so... prosperous.

Jin Ling was his nephew. The only family member he still had left and what he wanted to do most was to take him with him, lock him in the safest room in Lotus Pier, build an army around him, give him everything he wanted, spoil him, pamper him and not allow anything or anyone that could harm him to even possess his gaze on him. But doing all those things would be somewhat counterproductive so Jiang Cheng was content to visit as often as possible the scowling, capricious boy who shared his blood.

Jin Ling had the face of Jin Zixuan. When he was upset he threw tantrums like Jin Zixuan and was easily embarrassed like Jin Zixuan. But when he cried, oh, when he cried he made a horrible face that looked just like his mom.

Jiang Yanli never perfected the art of crying gracefully. She would always try to hold back her tears and put on a smile as her nose twisted in a futile attempt to hold back the tears that spilled out of her slanted eyes.

It was a horrible face, and Jiang Cheng loved it.

The first time he saw Jin Ling cry, and that's excluding senseless tantrums in which he would throw himself on the floor and scream nonstop, Jiang Cheng was again visiting Lanling Jin.

That day he took his nephew as usual to the lotus lake that Jin Zixuan built. They sat down and had a light snack which the ever solicitous servants immediately brought, already accustomed to their routine.

Jiang Cheng asked him how his day was, what new things he had learned and if anyone was bothering him. He may have had serious problems socializing, but he was not blind. The life of a sect heir, as he had learned at a young age, was full of difficulties ranging from the expectations and pressures inherent in his future position to the envy and rancor of his fellow trainees.

Jiang Cheng had been fortunate that his father was a born peacemaker and his mother commanded more than respect in the training camp. But even so his only friend had been Wei Wuxian. Jin Ling's case was in comparison a disaster, not only was he an orphan of both father and mother, but his arrogant and somewhat explosive attitude didn't help either.

Jin Ling told him that everything was fine, that his uncle Jin Guangyao was very kind to him and saw to it that he lacked nothing, and that his calligraphy teacher said he was making good progress. But did not tell him how he was doing with the other children.

Jiang Cheng decided for both their sakes that he would ignore that question for the time being, but would definitely find an answer by the end of his visit.

And they spent two magnificent days
They played whatever Jin Ling wanted, talked about Jiang Yanli, had breakfast, lunch and dinner together, Jiang Cheng let him braid her hair and they picked the prettiest lotuses from the pond.

When it was time to leave, Jiang Cheng went to Jin Ling's room to say goodbye.

And when Jin Ling opened the door, he had the same expression of his mother on his face, his little teeth were biting hard on his lips and his cheeks were red and wet.

"Don't go," he said softly when he finally calmed down after Jiang Cheng hugged him for a long time and asked him what was wrong.

His quiet voice made Jiang Cheng want to mount his sword and take him away.

"A-Ling..."

Jiang Cheng did not know what to say to him. As much as he wanted to assure him that he was not going to abandon him and that he really wanted to stay, the truth was that he had to return to Lotus Pier to continue with his duties as sect leader that he had left unattended to visit him.

"Don't go jiujiu," he whispered to him with his little head down, as if crying in his room was something to be ashamed of. "Xiao shushu is kind, but when you're not there I'm left alone"

"A-Ling, you know I have to go," Jiang Cheng sighed. "I have a lot of work to do and I can't take you with me"

"Why not?" he asked

"Because... because it's not as simple as taking you, I have to ask permission in advance from many people and right now I'm on a tight schedule" he replied softly.

Jin Ling slumped his small shoulders and looked the saddest that Jiang Cheng had ever seen him.

"Look, next time I'll stay a little longer, okay? I'll ask your uncle to let you take some lessons with the other kids so you won't be alone"

But Jin Ling did not look happier but even sadder.

"Jin Ling, you have to talk to me, I can't guess what's bothering you if you don't tell me" He tried to say sympathetically. Who was he kidding? He was lousy with children, but let it not be said that he didn't try his best.

A few moments passed and Jiang Cheng forced himself to be patient.

"They don't like me" he finally answered him, the sad little face back "They don't like the way I am or what I do or what I say"

"The other children, A-Ling?" He forced himself to respond calmly "Are they bothering you?"

He only received an affirmative nod of his head

"Have you told this to your Xiao Shushu?"

He received another nod

Who was Jiang Cheng kidding, Lianfang Zun was a spy during the war and if the rumors were true there was nothing going on inside Carp Tower that wasn't under his knowledge. That man simply didn't care what was going on with Jin Ling, the future sect leader was being harassed in his own damn house and the man in charge of his care was doing nothing.

"A-Ling, I have some things to talk to Sect Leader Jin about" Jin Ling's little eyes blinked "I'll come and see you later. Stay here"

And without waiting for an answer Jiang Cheng went to break a few tables of Lanling Jin's council of elders, who were also responsible for negligence, and to vociferate against Jin Guangyao for neglecting his nephew.

That day he demanded to everyone's bewilderment that his nephew spend time with him at Lotus Pier and he kept shouting and bargaining, threatening and even almost attacking anyone who dared to stand in his way.

It was a tiring few months, but he finally got his way.

Jin Ling would spend 4 months a year with him and the others in Carp Tower.

His nephew was very happy when he finally told him the news.

It was a very hard time and Jiang Cheng would have liked not to have to go through it alone.

He was content to keep drinking.  

Chapter Text

When Lan Wangji came out of seclusion the first thing he did was to head for Lotus Pier.

His feet, however, were delayed at the start of the road that could take him to Yiling, which could take him to the Burial Mounds, the last place Wei Ying lived.

It took him an awkward talk with his uncle and brother promising to return a few days later, plus several veiled pleas to be allowed to leave the Cloud Recesses on the very day when, to everyone's surprise, he broke his seclusion.

And Lan Wangji wanted to do just that, to head for Yiling, to the place where Wei Ying perished, but he stopped before he even took the first step.

Lan Wangji knew he would find nothing but rubble, ashes and dust, just like the last time he was there. Knowing that Wei Ying crossed the threshold of death in that place gave it a special meaning, a meaning he was not yet sure his heart could bear.

Wei Ying did not have a burial.

He did not have a memorial.

He had no place in anyone's family shrine.

His name, like his body, vanished into thin air, where no one could or would look for him again, no one except Lan Wangji.

There was nowhere to mourn Wei Ying

Nor is it that anyone but himself cared.

The people who might have cared were gone, all swallowed by the flames of the fire, all consumed by the heat of death.

Only Lan Wangji was left

Lan Wangji, his memories and his regrets.

Lan Wangji and his sadness

The Burial Mounds were the tombstone of the abyss of darkness and hunger that devoured Wei Ying.

They were, for all practical purposes, the only tomb his beloved would ever have.

And though Lan Wangji longed to return to that place, the last time he had run in that direction he had still hoped to find Wei Ying, to protect him, to stay by his side. Instead now there was nothing Lan Wangji could hope to find there, the very thought of emptiness surrounded by resentment sent a painful pang through Lan Wangji's chest.

He wasn't sure how much it would hurt to go to Yiling.

He didn't want to risk that yet

He wasn't ready

He would be, eventually, and when that day came, he would embrace the heartbreak and unhappiness without resistance.

And so, with his feet lost and his mind on the destroyed hovels of the Wen remnants, Lan Wangji made his way to Lotus Pier, the former home of Wei Ying.

When people talked about Yunmeng, they praised the beauty of the lotuses, the breeze from the lake, the humidity in the air and the pleasant warmth that flooded the atmosphere.

No one warned Lan Wangji about the flocks of mosquitoes that swarmed in the vegetation along the roadsides.

He had been bitten on his fingers, on his neck, and one mosquito had even managed to pierce the veil and bite one of his ears.

There were light welts on the affected places that itched intensely and which Lan Wangji was trying very hard to ignore. The sun was setting, the lake was shimmering, the air had a sweet smell, and Lan Wangji wanted very much to scratch so that he could continue to live in peace.

Well, scratching was not going to be possible, inappropriate behavior was not something he was willing to indulge in for a few stings. On the other hand, getting an ointment to ward off the flocks of mosquitoes would be his first priority upon arriving in the city.

The colors of the sky grew darker as he walked, night was coming and Lan Wangji was still on his way to a city he had barely passed and had mostly only heard about.

An eternity ago, Wei Ying had encouraged him to visit Yunmeng City, told him about the great pheasants they could hunt and the lotus seeds they could collect together and made crazy, convoluted plans for the mischief they could get up to there.

And Lan Wangji had turned down his proposal.

What he would give to have accepted it.

Yunmeng City was beautiful in its own right, it was also bustling and lively. Yunmeng City resembled Wei Ying, always alive.

There were numerous lines of street lamps hanging everywhere that illuminated the streets still filled with merchants offering their wares and people swarming around the stalls.

The smell of food hung heavily and sweetly in the air and although that made a person of senses, as Lan Wangji was, feel like holding his nose with the sleeve of his robe, the truth was that he was eager to know and feel more of the place Wei Ying had told him so much about.

The place... shone

Lotus Pier was really close to Yunmeng City so Lan Wangji was not surprised when he saw among the people various purple-robed disciples mingling and interacting normally with the locals. The latter caught Lan Wangji's attention.

The relationship between Gusu Lan and the city of Caiyi was close, well, as close as a sect residing in the middle of the mountains can be to a city. The inhabitants used to request their help with cases of strange disappearances or suspicions of evil energy and the sect used to send them help as soon as possible.

But that was the end of it

Perhaps it was the fact that Gusu Lan's disciples had an ingrained sense of formality and decorum that made them seem unapproachable, or perhaps the fact that they were also not there often enough to form friendly relations with anyone there.

Of course, Lan Wangji knew that many disciples would sneak out at night to hang out in the city, but they usually changed their clothes and totally concealed their identity so as not to attract trouble upon themselves. Of course, this did not prevent them from being found many times, but sometimes it paid off.

Yunmeng Jiang's disciples on the other hand, seemed quite close with the townspeople. They joked with them and bargained as much as any other civilian, Lan Wangji couldn't help but think of Wei Ying, who flirted and smiled at the vendors in Caiyi City with a natural charisma that seemed sewn into his skin.

Contrary to the main streets of the city, there were alleys that still bore marks of destruction and soot-marked walls that would not leave, all of which Lan Wangji knew all too well because they were the same things he had noticed when his uncle and brother began rebuilding Gusu Lan. The once pristine walls were stained, the pavilions destroyed, the trees completely burned. Yes, destruction was something Lan Wangji was familiar with.

Returning to the main streets was where he saw it.

The Drunken Immortal Tavern.

The place he had heard his beloved talk about with Jiang Wanyin when they were still studying in the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji immediately forgot that he was returning to the light bustle to acquire the ointment he had promised himself and entered the tavern.

It was there, too, that he found him.

Jiang Wanyin, the current leader of the Yunmeng Jiang sect, leaning over a lonely table hidden in the shadows of a corner, with five bottles stacked at his side and a glass of wine heading for his mouth.

There was the person he had been begging not to meet and now had only a few steps away from him.

🌷🌷🌷

It had been a terrible day for Jiang Cheng.

First, he received the delegation of builders who suddenly demanded an increase in the interest rate of the last contract they had set up to build another training camp. And although he talked, negotiated, shouted and raged, by lunchtime they had reached no agreement so the meeting had to be postponed for another day.

Feeling that he had wasted his time in vain, Jiang Cheng headed for lunch in the family pavilion where he was alone. The months when Jin Ling would stay with him were near, but until his nephew arrived he would have to endure eating under an oppressive and sad silence.

Lunch always made him sadder in those days.

To make matters worse, his meal had olives in it.

Jiang Cheng hated olives.

Part of him wanted to go to the kitchens and demand a new dish, but that would only take up time, the old cooks knew of his hatred for olives, but recently two new cooks came to work there who surely didn't quite know his tastes. Jiang Cheng decided he would talk to them if it happened a second time.

Having eaten barely half of his plate and a general dejection hovering over his face, Jiang Cheng headed for the training grounds.

The sun was shining as brightly as ever that afternoon.

Sweat ran down his forehead and back, and the layers of clothing on top of his body only made the feeling of sticky humidity and heat even worse.

His disciples must have felt the same way because he saw more than one fanning themselves hurriedly when they thought he wasn't watching them. Well, at times like this, Jiang Cheng wished he had a fan too.

Implementing canopies over the training grounds was one of the things he had been thinking about, and in fact had been on the verge of implementing but for the sudden price hike of lumber from Qinghe, which in turn caused the budget designated for the construction of the pavilions to suddenly increase, leaving them with less money available than before.

Anyway, as soon as he got some money he would send for those things to be built.

After a couple of hours of training, one of the female disciples who had recently joined fainted.

Jiang Cheng was not surprised.

The excessive heat made people sweat a lot more and this, of course led to dehydration. Even when Jiang Cheng gave them breaks every so often, it was not enough to get some of his disciples who had not yet fully developed their golden cores to withstand the heat waves and dehydration.

He immediately had the girl taken to the infirmary.

Damn the wood suppliers in Qinghe.

He was definitely in a bad mood.

After a strenuous workout, Jiang Cheng headed off to do the paperwork waiting for him at his desk.

He spent a good couple of hours sitting around grumbling about how annoying and useless the bureaucracy was as he went through the papers, sorted through them, and finally filled out the most urgent ones.

And it was dinner time by the time he finished exhausted with his endings and just as he finally plowed out of his office, the end of his robe caught on the splintered edge of his chair and in a quick succession of unfortunate movements he spilled a good amount of ink on the paperwork he already had ready to deliver on top of his desk.

The anger and frustration inside him felt like an erupting volcano spilling lava and destroying everything in its path.

Yes, it was a bad day.

And with his spirits in tatters, Jiang Cheng decided he needed a good drink.

The Drunken Immortal Tavern was one of the few businesses that managed to revive after the war. Maybe it was because there were always people thirsty for wine or just because they had good luck, Jiang Cheng didn't care, that the tavern was still standing made him happy.

He had his first drunkenness in that place.

Also his first hangover

Both in one night

Wei Wuxian had decided it was time for him to become a man, so he shoved him into the tavern, put 2 bottles of old Yang Zhen's liquor in front of him and ordered him to drink with that smug smile of his that annoyed Jiang Cheng.

He refused

Wei Wuxian was indignant that he did not appreciate his gift and began to nag him to drink.

"I never took you for a coward, Jiang Cheng," he said condescendingly, " Who would have thought it? The future sect leader can't have a drink with his shixiong, tss, tss, shame on him"

Jiang Cheng ignored him as best he could.

"Shut up Wei Wuxian" he said roughly in the vain hope that he would leave him alone.

Of course, that had no effect

"What, too chicken to drink some wine?" Wei Wuxian started laughing "Maybe I should start calling you that, Jiang Cheng, the Lotus Pier chicken!"

As Wei Wuxian's laughter began to draw even more people's attention, Jiang Cheng felt himself blushing red with embarrassment and anger.

"Who's the chicken here? I bet you can't even drink a bottle yourself," he snapped.

"Are you challenging me Jiang Cheng?" asked Wei Wuxian

"What, too scared Wei Wuxian?" Jiang Cheng mockingly returned.

"Not at all, didi, we'll see who ends up worse off."

To sum things up they both ended up badly, well, maybe Jiang Cheng ended up a little worse, but it's not like anyone can judge, it was his first binge.

What started out as a few drinks in the afternoon ended up being ten bottles of wine by nightfall and since they were both tipsy enough to care about decorum, but not so much as to be stupid, they stumbled off to an inn to try and rest, or maybe some disciple dragged them there. Jiang Cheng couldn't tell, the memories of that night were too hazy.

Jiang Cheng woke up in the early morning of the next day with a horrendous headache, stiff muscles and a sour taste in his mouth.

He immediately picked up Wei Wuxian and the two of them slipped away half asleep to their rooms at Lotus Pier.

The next day their mother grounded them both.

Well, maybe they didn't sneak off so well.

The memories in that place didn't end there, but spread like ink stains on paper.

Jiang Cheng spent good times and bad times in that place and treasured every one of them.

Old Yang Zhen used to be the tavern keeper, but retired on the grounds that he was too old to deal with the drunks. In his place now was his son, Yang Ru who already worked in Jiang Cheng's teenage days as a waiter.

The tavern was somewhat empty when he entered, barely about two tables occupied and about 5 people inside.

Normally Jiang Cheng would worry about the image he projected in front of others, but he had had a bad day, the people in that tavern had seen him throw up his stomach when he was younger and it's not like having a couple of drinks was a crime either.

Just in case, Jiang Cheng chose a somewhat secluded table and proceeded to order a bottle of wine to calm his nerves somewhat, then ordered another because the wine was good, and another and another and another and another.

His eyes were blurry his mind dizzy and he was also feeling less repressed than he had been a couple of days.

Jiang Cheng was on his fifth bottle and wanted to laugh, cry and scream all at the same time.

And hell if drinking alone wasn't pathetic as hell.

At times like these he wished he was a sociable, charismatic being so he could get someone to talk to and not have to drink his sorrows away miserably in the dark.

Wei Wuxian made it look so easy, just smile, make a couple of jokes, give a wink or a pat on the back and presto, a new friend.

For Jiang Cheng it had never been that easy, he was always worried about his image, his status and how his actions might reflect badly on his sect, and hell if he wasn't tired of it.

Shit, if Wei Wuxian could then so could he.

Jiang Cheng decided he would get to talk to the next person who walked through the door of the bar.

He didn't have to wait long. Just as he was about to taste another glass of wine the door opened and in walked a man dressed in white with a veiled hat covering his face.

Jiang Cheng stared at him as hard as he could in his drunken state.

The stranger seemed to stare at him as well

A few seconds passed and neither of them moved or said anything

Apparently, Jiang Cheng would have to take the first step and that almost made him laugh, he really couldn't remember the last time he took the first step.

It couldn't be that hard could it?

"What? You lost something?"

Shit

Jiang Cheng mentally slapped himself.

That didn't go as planned.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji didn't use to talk much

Well, actually, he didn't talk much at all.

And that's because sometimes, he just didn't know what to say.

Of course, that hadn't always been the case.

He used to be a somewhat talkative child, and while he wasn't exactly the terror of adults, he was quite curious. Like many things in his life, that changed after his mother's death.

He had spent several hours sitting on the porch of the house surrounded by gentians at first when he still couldn't process that she was gone, then he came back the next month and the next and the next until he could finally understand that no one would ever open the door for him again.

Lan Wangji understood the concept of death, he had seen a couple of birds die and attended a couple of funerals of disciples of his sect. He knew that when a person died... well there was no return, the body was left behind as a mere shell and life was extinguished.

But the soul, where did the soul go?

Of course, they could contact the souls that still had unfinished business in the world of the living and help them attain peace. Musical cultivation, more specifically Inquiry song, was perfect for that, Lan Wangji had also seen souls answer the call, and vaguely understood the mechanics behind it.

But the souls that didn't wander the earth?

Where were they going?

Following that line of thinking where did his mother go?

He knew she didn't wander like many other souls. He had seen his brother try to call her on the sly with a guqin and receive no answer. He had also seen him wipe away his tears after that with a slightly sadder look on his face and his shoulders somewhat slumped.

If Lan Wangji were his mother, he would answer Lan Xichen's call more than any other cultivator's.

But his mother was not answering

So where was she?

Lan Wangji asked his uncle, because he was the wisest adult he knew and always had an explanation for everything, but for the first time he received no answer other than silence and a look of dismay.

He also asked his brother, and the brother stared at him as if he was hesitating to tell him something. The hesitation in his eyes didn't do much good because in the end he didn't say anything to him, just smiled slightly and asked him how his day had been.

Lan Wangji wanted to know, so he asked some older disciples he met one afternoon. He also asked the younger disciple who was scrubbing clothes in the laundry, and he asked the other masters at the end of their classes.

He received no answer from anyone.

Lan Wangji did not understand what was wrong, he wanted to know where she had gone.

Of course, he accepted that she was not coming back, but he wanted to know if she was okay. Maybe the new place she was in would be more cheerful and make her smile more. Mom almost never smiled.

Lan Wangji liked it when she smiled.

Eventually, he noticed that his questions were not well received, he saw how the twinkle in his brother's eyes dimmed whenever he asked, how his uncle seemed to get quieter than usual, and how the other disciples looked visibly uncomfortable whenever he approached them.

Lan Wangji stopped asking.

Eventually, he also stopped talking.

The feeling that he might be making others uncomfortable or saying the wrong thing made him so nervous that he could barely open his mouth to respond.

He learned that a nod or a soft hum was enough for others.

He learned that short words and phrases were much more reliable because they removed all sentimentality, because they avoided hurting.

He learned to be quiet and observe

That's what he was irremediably good at, shutting up and observing.

So when an evidently drunk Jiang Wanyin began to speak to him inexplicably, Lan Wangji swallowed all the hatred and contempt he felt for him and shut up and watched.

The lines of Sect Leader Yunmeng Jiang's robe were wide and pronounced, his sleeves were loose and the hem of his collar had a thin brown line caused by sweat. His hair was tightly held in a bun bound by braids, but the headdress had begun to unravel in the front and a few strands of hair fell freely across his face.

His posture was slightly tilted to the side and his hands were tightly clasped around the small bottle of wine he held in his left hand. His eyes were unfocused and it was obvious that he was not in full control of his senses.

Lan Wangji sensed the heavy silence between them, but he forced himself to close his mouth even tighter. It's not like it would show through the veil, so he took that small liberty.

If Lan Wangji opened his mouth... it would probably be to spout and expletives and insults worthy of a vulgar and uncouth person, the kind his sect had always despised.

And it was that seeing Jiang Wanyin there, alive, carefree, as if everything had gone well for him, as if his brother hadn't died three years before, as if Lan Wangji didn't cry and suffer for him every day.

He wanted to take that bottle and smash it in his face, make the shards of glass embed in his face and his blood flow and fall to the ground. He wanted him to feel at least a hint of the pain Wei Ying felt when he died. He wanted him to feel a hint of his own pain.

Lan Wangji clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to calm down, even though every nerve in his being pulsed to attack the man in front of him, the rank he held, as well as the pacific relations between the two sects prevented him from inflicting harm.

He forced himself to calm down again.

Wei Ying would not have liked him to kill his brother. Despite all the harm that had been inflicted on him he was not the kind of person to hold a grudge against those he loved. He would not agree with Lan Wangji's intentions.

That's how noble he was.

🌼🌼🌼

The man in white was silent, straight and still as a statue.

He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes.

He just stared at him, well, as hard as someone can stare through the transparent fabric of a veil.

It was uncomfortable.

Jiang Cheng took another big sip of wine and carefully considered the situation.

He could turn away, continue drinking and pretend nothing had happened, that would be easy, but the competitive and petty part of him refused to give up when he had finally been able to take the first step.

If the other person didn't respond ... All that was left was to keep trying, right?

"W-well, actually I was wondering what you're doing here?" His voice failed him briefly

Great, now he was acting like an interrogator, a drunken interrogator, the idea made him let out a small chuckle.

The other person didn't say anything, that had to be bad.

Jiang Cheng had to fix that.

"I mean," he said a little more confidently, "I've never seen you here before.

That went much better, Jiang Cheng congratulated himself, he was getting better at that getting to know someone thing.

He waited patiently for a response and.... The other person said nothing, again.

Something was wrong there.

And Jiang Cheng was going to find out what.

"Are you deaf?"

The other person was a little startled at his suggestion. 

Well, he was definitely listening to him.

Jiang Cheng decided that if that wasn't it then there was only one option left.

"Oh! Then you're mute"

He didn't pay attention to the other's reaction because he was too dejected for that.

He'd finally get up the courage to get someone to chat with and he'd run into a mute.

Well, to be fair it wasn't the poor man's fault either, he had had the decency to let him talk and for obvious reasons he hadn't been able to answer.

Jiang Cheng felt like a jerk.

So he did one of the few things he learned from his father.

Apologize with a gift.

Jiang Cheng quickly turned to the bar, turned so fast he felt his brain rearranging itself inside his head.

"Yang Ru!" He shouted

"Sect leader?" Replied the barman

"Bring me two, no, three bottles of your best wine!" He asked

"I'll send them right away," said Yang Ru.

And just like that, after sorting out his apology, Jiang Cheng felt a little better, hopefully the man would not attach too much importance to his previous slip, he would take the bottles and forget about it.

Jiang Cheng looked straight ahead again and found the stranger looking at him.

Well, maybe the man wanted to sit with him and was feeling self-conscious.

Jiang Cheng understood the feeling perfectly.

No matter, Jiang Cheng would help him, after having interrupted his entrance the least he could do was to offer him some company.

"Well, I could use some company," he said cheerfully. The alcohol he had been consuming incessantly since the man entered along with his first casual conversation in a long time gave him a quality and cheerful feeling. "Only if you want to sit with me, of course, the wine is on me even if you decide otherwise". 

The man said nothing

Well, that was no longer news to Jiang Cheng so he was not surprised.

As he waited for an answer that his alcoholic mind couldn't imagine how it would come, the barkeeper arrived with the bottles of wine and cheerfully placed them on the table.

Yang Ru had seen their interaction from afar and was sure the two of them were old acquaintances or something, anyway, sect leader Jiang didn't talk to anyone other than his disciples and important people.

Jiang Wanyin didn't seem to have many friends, but Yang Ru would bet her kidney that that was one.

And if they needed a little push to break the ice?

Yang Ru was the one.

The man in white was very still, Yang Ru was betting the tavern that he was a Lan, he'd seen a few as stiff as him at Lotus Pier once...They didn't appreciate his craft much.

Of course, that he had a cloud pattern poorly hidden under the hem of his sleeve didn't help his deduction any.

The poor cultivator must have been in a quandary being in the tavern c
ith his rules against alcohol and indecency, he was surely undecided about sitting at the table and sharing a drink. But Yang Ru was a tavern keeper, he'd dealt with a lot of people at their worst and best times, an awkward cultivator was a piece of cake.

He would handle it.

Smiling, he walked over to the man in white and in one fluid motion took his arm and led him to the table as he spoke quickly.

"So you're friends with sect leader Jiang? Don't be shy, no one will tell anyone that you were here, what happens in the tavern stays in the tavern".

Before giving him time to think and repent, Yang Ru sat him down and poured him a glass of wine.

Jiang Wanyin visibly perked up at having the stranger sitting across from him, which only reinforced the theory that they were friends.

Satisfied with the results, Yang Ru bowed and took his leave.

"Enjoy your drinks" He sounded a bit pretentious, but he was dealing with a sect leader and a Lan, no one could blame him.

Jiang Cheng had succeeded.

He struck up conversation, got someone to share his drinking table and so far no one seemed uncomfortable or eager to run away from him.

Of course, Yang Ru's having practically thrown the man over the chair had nothing to do with it.

The other said nothing during the whole process, which did not surprise Jiang Cheng.

The only movements he made were to hold up his cup.

Jiang Cheng watched as the other contemplated his drink for a couple of minutes before he lifted the veil slightly and took a sip.

Everything was going well for Jiang Cheng, the silence was also comfortable.

And when he finally got his gaze focused enough to initiate a one-sided chat....

His new acquaintance fainted.

Chapter Text

If Lan Wangji had been told that Sandu Shengshou himself, Jiang Wanyin, leader of the Yunmeng Jiang sect, would invite him with all the self-confidence in the world to have a drink, he would have branded anyone who dared to suggest such a thing a liar and a deceiver.

But as his shufu always liked to remind him, reality is sometimes more unexpected and surprising than imagination itself.

Drinking was forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.

But Lan Wangji was not there, and that gave him some freedom.

In any case, in the hypothetical and unlikely event that he was willing to have a drink with someone, that person would definitely not be Wei Wuxian's killer.

Lan Wangji was preparing to turn around, leave that place, and ignore Jiang Wanyin's annoying drunken babbling when the bartender arrived.

The blessed bartender.

Not only did he have the audacity to make physical contact with him, but he dragged him over and sat him at the same table as Jiang Wanyin without asking for his consent.

To say that the night had been a disaster was an understatement.

Perhaps the only good thing about that situation was that the veil he stubbornly kept over his head despite the oppressive heat inside the establishment prevented anyone from noticing his identity.

He was not prepared to introduce himself as Hanguang-jun to Sandu Shengshou, and heaven forbid the catastrophe that would ensue.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, leaned back slightly in his chair in a futile attempt to relax his tense muscles, and sighed.

The die was cast; getting up from the table and leaving after being invited to sit down was something even he couldn't do. Discourtesy was one thing, but utter vulgarity was quite another.

So Lan Wangji would swallow his anger and animosity and sit there long enough that his departure would not be considered rude.

His hands gripped the wine glass in front of him tightly.

Lan Wangji ordered himself to keep his mouth shut. Jiang Wanyin already thought he was mute, so he wouldn't have to speak to him, and if luck smiled on him, the jerk sitting across from him wouldn't remember anything the next day.

Lan Wangji turned his gaze to the contents of the glass in his hands.

It wasn't Emperor's Smile, that was for sure. It didn't have the clear, water-like color or the strong smell of alcohol.

The liquid in front of him was wine, made from fermented sweet grapes. The smell was quite cloying, and the color was quite dark. He knew that Yunmeng wine was much milder than the alcohol from his hometown.

Lan Wangji was well aware of his low tolerance for alcohol, but the stress of the situation he found himself in demanded that he take a small sip of whatever might relax him.

A small sip wouldn't be so bad, right?

After all, it was wine, for God's sake.

Lan Wangji quickly raised a glass and took a small sip.

His vision beginning to darken was definitely not part of the plan.

A sober Lan Wangji and a drunk Lan Wangji were two very different people.

The sober Lan Wangji was much more restrained and aware of his actions than the drunk one. The drunk Lan Wangji felt and did a lot; he was the break in the perfect dam that contained the turbulent river that was his deepest emotions.

Lan Wangji didn't usually remember much about his drunken episodes; most of the time, he would only have a cloud of confusion and exhaustion weighing on his head when he woke up.

But he did remember the night he branded himself with a red-hot iron.

He remembered the sadness and despair that flooded him, he remembered his brother's cry of surprise, as well as his sobs when he found him in such a state, he remembered his uncle's dismayed and helpless look, and he remembered his own uselessness in feeling and making them feel better.

In short, when he got drunk, he wasn't the most reasonable person.

And that was fine when he was locked up in the Jingshi, where only his brother and uncle would witness his complete lack of control, but Lan Wangji wasn't there. He was sitting across from the man he had resented for the past three years, surrounded by people from Yunmeng who wouldn't hesitate to call on the disciples of Yunmeng Jiang—if they weren't disciples themselves—if he dared to threaten or harm the man who was giving him a strange look from across the table.

Who says drunk Lan Wangji isn't reasonable?

Drunk Lan Wangji is perfectly aware of where he is and who is around him, as well as the protocols and proper behavior.

That he doesn't give a shit is another matter.

And so, all the self-control that sober Lan Wangji had struggled to maintain went down the drain when drunk Lan Wangji decided that the person in front of him was a piece of shit and he had no reason to hide it.

Lan Wangji tried to stand up, but his limbs didn't respond very well, so he ended up slumping slightly back into his chair. His vision was a little blurry, but he didn't pay much attention to it; it wasn't something he could fix.

He gathered a little more strength in his palms and pushed himself up, not quite balanced on his two legs. He staggered slightly and finally stood as straight as a spear.

Standing up was always difficult after getting drunk, but after that his body adapted to the shaky state his brain seemed to be in and he managed perfectly well.

He moved his right hand to the left side of his waist.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and drew Bichen from its sheath.

With a fluid motion, he traced the line of the blade and pointed it directly at Jiang Wanyin's surprised eyes.

Yes, drunk Lan Wangji was in charge.

🌹🌹🌹

Jiang Cheng was stunned.

Speechless.

And yes, he was very surprised.

His alcohol-addled mind couldn't comprehend how things had ended up so badly.

He had made an effort to be as friendly as he had been in a long time.

And he ended up with the sharp tip of a blade pointing at his throat.

That blade looked familiar, very familiar, although Jiang Cheng couldn't say where from. Not that he was trying too hard; the dangerous gleam of the polished steel captured his full attention.

So, when did things go so wrong?

Jiang Cheng had been cordial and had made up for his mistake in offending the man with his thoughtlessness with the three bottles of wine that still sat untouched on the table.

Perhaps he was truly offended and had not been appeased by his gift, but if that was the case, why did he sit next to him?

It was a good question.

Jiang Cheng continued to think while systematically ignoring the muffled cries of the people at the other tables as they saw his situation and murderous intentions.

Wait a minute, the man had literally been dragged away by Yang Ru, damn it, Jiang Cheng had offended, intimidated, and coerced his new acquaintance.

He felt a little sad.

Look, he really hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable, he just felt damn lonely and thought it would be a good idea to find someone to drink with, so he wouldn't feel like such a failure when he looked across his table and found only silence.

Ah, the things Jiang Cheng did in his worst moments.

He wasn't a sociable person, that much was clear, but he decided to make a fool of himself by dragging some random cultivator into the eye of the storm that was his loneliness.

Jiang Cheng was already getting up to apologize, embarrassed at having misread so many signals in his longing for company, when he suddenly realized.

A duel!

His acquaintance wanted a duel!

Jiang Cheng immediately remembered the duels he had had with many people before, and on all those occasions he had been pointed at in the same way as the man under the veil.

Jiang Cheng felt something in his chest loosen with relief.

The cultivator just wanted a duel, perhaps it was what he had wanted since he arrived at the tavern and his conditions had not allowed him to communicate properly.

That was good, Jiang Cheng could have a duel with him and then take him out for a few more drinks, that was a good plan.

With his spirits renewed, the Yunmeng Jiang sect leader quickly rose from his seat only to fall flat on his face due to his sudden movement.

Damn it, he had made a fool of himself.

He got up just as quickly and rested his hands on the table where they had both been drinking earlier, hastily grabbing what was left of his glass and calling out to Yang Ru, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the whole process.

“Yang Ru!” he shouted cheerfully. “This man and I are going to have a duel. I'll leave the bottles with you in case we come back for them.”

The answer was not long in coming.

“I'll put them away right away, don't worry.”

And as soon as he answered, Yang Ru approached, picked up the glasses on the table, and took the bottles away, all in a delicate balance that threatened to collapse at any moment.

And as soon as he arrived, he left.

Yang Ru mentally reprimanded himself when he entered the kitchen. That man was clearly no friend of sect leader Jiang. It was enough to feel the murderous aura emanating not only from his body but also from his spiritual weapons. And although Yang Ru was not a cultivator himself, the fact that his clientele often consisted of them had taught him a myriad of interesting things.

He had put Jiang Wanyin in a hole that he could have gotten out of if only he weren't drunk and vulnerable.

Yang Ru sighed inwardly and rushed to leave a message for the Yunmeng Jiang sect's head disciple.

A duel, of course, and the sky was green and the sea was sweet.

A murder was what would happen there if someone didn't stop them, and although Yang Ru would have loved to do so, he was well aware of his own vulnerability, having never practiced cultivation.

Ah, the hazards of the trade.

With endless complaints in mind, Yang Ru ran as fast as his legs would carry him to Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng quickly left the tavern with the mysterious cultivator behind him.

He hadn't asked his name yet, not that he knew sign language or anything like that to understand him, but he figured he could provide him with ink and paper if they found a store to buy such supplies along the way.

Jiang Cheng hadn't had many duels since he took over Lotus Pier and filled his life with duties and obligations that kept his beloved sect afloat.

Of course, when he was young, his position as heir made various disciples want to cross swords with him, and he was almost always victorious.

That “almost,” of course, had a name: Wei Wuxian.

As his senior disciple and brother, they had dueled many times, both officially and out of sight of others. Needless to say, when Wei Wuxian took it seriously, he almost never won.

Jiang Cheng didn't want to think about Wei Wuxian anymore, not at that moment when he was on his way to have a friendly duel with someone after a long time.

The man followed him diligently, his sword still unsheathed, so he assumed he was as eager as he himself felt.

Ah, he couldn't wait to have a good fight after so long.

In the distance, the rooms of Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple suddenly lit up, and there was a slight commotion in the disciples' dormitory.

The pier came alive in the middle of the night.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji didn't care in the slightest where they were headed.

As long as his sword could taste Jiang Wanyin's blood, he would be just as happy in the forests of Yunmeng as he would be on his uncle's favorite desk.

Meanwhile, sect leader Jiang seemed excited.

The drunk part of Lan Wangji wondered if Jiang Wanyin hated him as much as he hated Jiang Wanyin, if somehow his drunken brain couldn't process that he had found out his identity and had only pretended not to recognize him so he could attack him when he least expected it.

Yes, that kind of dishonorable thing sounded like Jiang Wanyin.

If he felt no remorse for killing his own brother, why would he feel anything for the death of someone like Lan Wangji?

The veil covering his face gave him a sense of distance from everything around him. The lanterns glowed, the night birds sang, the vendors shouted, and Lan Wangji felt everything through a soft blanket covering his senses.

Everything seemed so far away.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was his own desire not to be there at all.

Lan Wangji wished he were back in the Jingshi, where he would kneel on a mat, look through the window at the stars, and think of Wei Ying.

He would play until his wrists cramped, his eyes would find the void, and somehow he would wake up in his bed at 5 a.m. sharp.

Then he would start all over again.

In Yunmeng, there was not the tranquility he needed to meditate, rest, or cry.

The closest thing he found to comfort was the knowledge that he could slit Jiang Wanyin's throat in a matter of minutes.

Well, he couldn't really risk that; his situation in the cultivation world would be too uncertain if he killed the leader of one of the four great sects. He doubted that even Lan Xichen and his shufu could save him from condemnation and ostracism.

In any case, Lan Wangji had fought alongside the man in purple robes enough times to recognize that he would not be an easy opponent.

Things might be a little more evenly matched between them if he decided to use his guqin, but Bichen in its white sheath trimmed with silver ornaments was flashy enough without having to add a musical instrument to the mix.

Lan Wangji sighed and wrung his hands a little.

The heat wasn't as stifling as it had been inside the tavern, but it was still much warmer than he was used to.

Lan Wangji was willing to ignore that and follow Jiang Wanyin's swaying figure through the alleys so he could get it over with and go rest at an inn when all his senses came back to him at full speed.   

The mosquitoes—those pesky mosquitoes again—had slipped through the small slits he left uncovered to relieve the heat somewhat and had begun their annoying task of sucking his blood.

Lan Wangji felt their tiny legs crawling across his sweaty skin, only to shudder at the itch that followed a new bite.

He needed that ointment, and he needed it now.

He wasn't quite sure if he cared about Jiang Wanyin, but his priorities had been rearranged in a matter of seconds.

And that ointment was at the top of the list.

Paying no further attention to Jiang Wanyin, Lan Wangji veered off the path toward the cluster of shops huddled on his right.

He checked them one by one and found various things: one was dedicated to Yunmeng's typical snacks, another was full of hair accessories, another sold necklaces and jewelry, and another sold fans.

He continued to walk around the shops hurriedly.

The itching was beginning to spread to his fingers and even the back of his neck, which, combined with the sweat produced by the layers of clothing and the heat of the place, made Lan Wangji want to rip the clothes off his body and start rubbing his skin like a madman.

Of course, being drunk did not change some things that were ingrained in him, so he would not do something so shameful even in his intoxicated state.  

After walking around the stalls a few times, he spotted a small shop that seemed to sell what he was looking for.  

Stacked on top of each other were different containers filled with what appeared to be some kind of ointment, and there were also some bowls filled with essence and rice water.

If any place could help him, it was this one, so with determined steps and his back straight, he headed for his destination.

The small shop was slightly dark due to its poor location, and the shelf holding the products looked old and worn up close. The vendor was an old woman hunched over a wooden chair who seemed to be crumbling something between her fingers.

Lan Wangji thought it was a little strange, but he didn't pay much attention to it. The itching was eating away at him, and although his face remained stoic, his hands trembled with the need to relieve his torment.

He stood in front of the old woman's stall, picked up several clay containers, and tried to discern which one might help him. The herbal scent of the ointments was very similar to the ones his brother used when he cared for the then-open wounds on his back.

The saleswoman quickly stood up to stop him and object to his interference with her merchandise, leaving what she was working on in her fingers in a small bowl next to her stool.

Before the old woman even had a chance to open her mouth to protest, Lan Wangji placed a bag of coins in her hands as he continued to quickly pile the goods into his arms, hoping that one of them would be the solution to his problem.

The gentle expression on the old woman's face quickly faded into a sly smile when she saw the bag of coins, and a glimmer of recognition appeared in her eyes.

“Young man,” she said as she gently removed the ointments from Lan Wangji's arms, “I'm afraid this isn't what you're looking for. Give me a moment and I'll bring you what you need.”

The old woman quickly went to the back of her stall, where, out of sight, she rummaged through a barrel full of herbs and carefully pulled out a medium-sized chest made of good wood and without ornamentation.

Lan Wangji was a little puzzled. He was fairly certain from his experience with healing his wounds that these ointments, while not the same, could help him with the burning sensation spreading through various parts of his body and perhaps even scare away his most bitter winged enemies.

But if the old woman said she could bring the answer to his problems, Lan Wangji wasn't going to complain.

So he set out to wait, armed with all the patience he could muster, which wasn't much.

And since it wasn't much, he went to look for the saleswoman.

He found her crouching down, trying to weigh a blackish, circular substance on a golden metal scale.

Lan Wangji liked the ornate cranes on the scales; they were very beautiful.

He had never seen such a substance in his life, but he assumed that just as Gusu had its own private preparations and recipes, Yunmeng must have similar things.

He sighed slightly at the thought.   

The old woman jumped and turned around in fright when she sensed a presence behind her, but she immediately relaxed when she saw that it was the man in the white veil who had come to her shop.

Carefully, she cut a piece from another ball of black dough she had in the chest and, reading the numbers on the scale, nodded with satisfaction.

She put everything in a small cloth bag, which she closed and neatly wrapped.

Then she turned around and handed the package to Lan Wangji.   

“That's a good amount for the money you gave me,” she said as she put the scale and chest back in the barrel. “I would recommend not using it all at once, but do as you see fit. It's not like I'm putting restrictions on you, I'm not your doctor, am I?" 

And without waiting for an answer, the old woman quickly returned to her chair, sat down hunched over, and went back to work on whatever she had pulled out from under her seat.

Lan Wangji didn't understand anything, but he picked up a small jar of ointment before leaving. He would find someone to teach him how to use what he had bought.

Was it ingested? Was it rubbed on?

He would find out later. Lan Wangji still had time.

When the mysterious man disappeared from view, the old woman let out a small snort. The guy looked young and strong but clearly anxious. He was also wealthy, probably a young master if she judged by the quality of the fabric of his robes.

How unfortunate for him to be a consumer at such a young age.

The old woman quickly dismissed those thoughts. It wasn't her job to worry about people, but rather what they could buy from her, so she continued to crumble the bland herbs that were the perfect cover for her real business in the market.

She would have to check on her poppies soon; the petals must already be falling.

🏵️🏵️🏵️

The night was good for Jiang Cheng.

When his parents fought, when the weight of expectations on him was too much, when he felt that one more push could break him into pieces, Jiang Cheng would run to the shelter of the night, sit by the lake, and count stars.

The nights were safe, quiet—if anything could be completely quiet in Yunmeng.

There were no prying eyes at night, just tired people heading home to rest and lively people looking for fun. No one cared about an angry sect leader who occasionally went out to drown his sorrows in a bar.

During the night, he worked, got angry, and drank.

And not always in that order.

That night, the air was as humid as ever, the streets as noisy as ever, the lights as bright as ever, so why did something feel different?

Perhaps it was the fact that he had someone accompanying him, unlike other nights when his loneliness was the only thing that seemed to follow him.

An acquaintance, perhaps a new friend if he thought positively, someone close to him, a nearby presence.

It was curious how the unforced proximity of a body practically unknown to his could give him a touch of joy. Jiang Cheng didn't like being alone, but he didn't like being surrounded by people either, and he wanted, really wanted to be able to do better, but it was difficult, very difficult, so difficult that he only dared to try to change something when he was drunk and a couple of steps away from his mind getting lost in the haze of alcohol.

He wondered briefly as he walked among the people if he would remember any of this the next day.

It wouldn't be the first time he woke up in his room at Lotus Pier with no idea how he got there when the last thing he remembered was ordering another bottle of liquor.

Such episodes were not frequent, but they still filled him with shame. A person in his position should not so easily abandon his image and reputation just because he couldn't properly control his alcohol intake.

That was just one of the things Jiang Cheng punished himself for.

His ineptitude at diplomacy, the strictly professional and distant relationship he maintained with his disciples and couldn't seem to break, the fact that the people who were supposed to trust him came to fear him... and the list went on and on.

So when Jiang Cheng lay in his bed, lulled only by the chirping of crickets and night birds, his mind was a precarious vicious circle that went round and round, circling the landscape of his flaws and regrets.

Dark, everything was so dark.

And in all that darkness, there was still the love he held tightly to his chest, the love for his nephew, the love for his sect, the love for his hometown, the love for his family that was long gone.

Sometimes, Jiang Cheng wished that among all that love, he could also find a small portion for himself.

The head disciple of Lotus Pier was a kind man.

Kindness was his way of dealing with the problems he faced every day within the sect that he and his sect leader had worked side by side to rebuild.

Angry disciples, demanding officials, people seeking help, his own tired and busy companions—he responded to everything with a smile.       

In a shitty world, a smile was the only weapon that no one could take away from him.

His days were usually busy, but not so busy that he didn't have a life of his own away from the administration and training in the sect. He had friends to go out for a drink with from time to time, and when his two weeks of vacation came around every four months, he had a family to visit.   

His sect leader, on the other hand, was always alone.

He ate alone, worked alone, trained alone, drank alone.

There was an aura of eternal sadness that, if you were close enough, you could sense. It spread across his shoulders, the corners of his eyebrows when he thought no one was looking, and the pupils of his eyes when he looked at his iconic ring.

That melancholic halo only faded when young Master Jin came to visit. That capricious and stubborn little boy managed to bring a sincere smile to the face of his sect leader, and it was something that many appreciated.

They said that Lotus Pier's main disciple was a kind man.

Kindness was his way of dealing with the problems he faced every day within the sect that he and his sect leader had worked side by side to rebuild.

Angry disciples, demanding officials, people seeking help, his own tired and busy companions—he responded to everything with a smile.       

In a shitty world, a smile was the only weapon that no one could take away from him.

His days were usually busy, but not so busy that he didn't have a life of his own away from the administration and training in the sect. He had friends to go out for a drink with from time to time, and when his two weeks of vacation came around every four months, he had a family to visit.   

His sect leader, on the other hand, was always alone.

He ate alone, worked alone, trained alone, drank alone.

There was an aura of eternal sadness that, if you were close enough, you could sense. It spread across his shoulders, the corners of his eyebrows when he thought no one was looking, and the pupils of his eyes when he looked at his iconic ring.

That melancholic halo only faded when young Master Jin came to visit. That capricious and stubborn little boy managed to bring a sincere smile to the face of his sect leader, and it was something that many appreciated.

Huang Yong didn't used to think much about the angry man who was his superior until he found him drunk in a tavern and heard him crying, whispering the names of people who had died years ago.

And as someone who had also lost a loved one at the hands of the Wens, he could sympathize with him.

Ah, empathy, the wonders it worked in human interactions.  

Perhaps it all began when he dragged his cult leader's lifeless body away as discreetly as possible and saw him sit down to work the next day as if nothing had happened the day before, as if he hadn't confessed to being on the verge of suicide. 

Well, Huang Yong cared about that man.

And he wasn't going to let him fall after fighting so hard, and he knew it, because he had been with him throughout the war and had seen the corpses and death swarming around the men they wanted so badly to keep alive but kept sending to the slaughter every day.

That was a dark period that not everyone was able to get through.

And the few who did just tried to forget as much as possible.

No matter how many years you spend training with a sword, no matter how much you psych yourself up to become an asset and a soldier, the sight of life draining from a person's eyes, seeing them take their last breath, seeing them gone in a sigh, always hits hard.

Watching that every day for over a year, in both enemies and allies, was more than many could bear.

Faced with the turmoil and horror of war, men are nothing more than fragile branches that break at the slightest touch.

A man may break in his first battle, just as he may break in his hundredth; of course, he may never break at all. Huang Yong was one step away from breaking in that madness, as were many of his comrades who worked to this day to overcome the horrors that settled in their souls.  

Amidst all that chaos, the twigs went mad with pain with each passing second, men with no direction and only emptiness in their eyes swarmed the banks of rivers filled with corpses, and those who still retained their sanity prayed that they would not break as well.

And in the midst of it all was their sect leader, a man who was already broken before he entered the battlefield.

Huang Yong sighed slowly as he exhaled the smoke he had inhaled from his opium pipe. 

What a pitiful scene they all made, dressed up in the play of a normal life, waving their traumatized hands in a futile attempt to find calm and peace.

Huang Yong smiled because he feared that if he stopped, he would finally break under the rot that was slowly eating away at everything around him.

In a world of shit, Huang Yong smiled.

When Yang Ru arrived at Lotus Pier with his hat half off and his shoes covered in dust, he prayed internally that all his sacrifices would be worth it.

The market was busier than usual, and there was a long line to get a carriage.

On any other day, Yang Ru would have waited in line like any civilized person, but with a murder waiting to happen, he was desperate, so he jumped into the first carriage that arrived and begged them to take him to Lotus Pier immediately, saying it was a matter of life and death.

Of course, he ended up on the ground, and the people who had been waiting for a long time for the carriage were about to end his sad life on the ground.

Damn it! He was too young to die crushed for not respecting a line!

Yang Ru gathered what little dignity he had left and ran away like a deer being hunted. The beautiful buildings of the Yunmeng Jiang sect greeted him in the distance.

He ran what felt like an eternity to him, but to the average person would have been about twenty minutes. Don't blame him, he was a bartender who spent his days sleeping and his nights serving drunks who supported his middle-class lifestyle.

He didn't usually have the time or desire to keep himself in shape.

Arriving and almost falling at the entrance was just one more layer of humiliation he had endured that night, along with the woman who thought he was a thief just because he was running too fast away from the market.

He immediately asked to see the head disciple, who he was told had retired to his chambers a couple of hours ago.

Now, Yang Ru couldn't even come close to winning a fight against a cultivator, so he threw himself into screaming as miserably as he could that if the main disciple didn't attend to him, the sect leader would die and his ghost would haunt them for not doing anything to prevent his death.

His nonsensical rant almost got him thrown out, but fortunately, a disciple passing by recognized him as the man who worked at “The Drunken Immortal,” where their sect leader used to go drinking.

Understanding filled the guards' faces, and they quickly took him to the head disciple's quarters. There was no time to ask someone to make themselves presentable and all that if the highest authority in that place was in danger of death.

Yang Ru immediately pounded on the head disciple's door.

No one answered.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Despair began to fill him.

He couldn't have done all that for nothing, right? 

As he was about to break his fists on the thick wood, the door opened to reveal a very angry man with a compromising smell who clearly did not have the best intentions toward Yang Ru.    

Before he could say or do anything, Yang Ru spoke.

“Look, I don't care what you're getting yourself into, although I think I have a pretty good idea what it might be.” A warning growl interrupted him briefly. “Your sect leader is about to be skewered like grilled seafood by a man who thinks he's his friend.”

“What?”

“Get your sect leader out of that man's clutches, or the Yunmeng Jiang cult is going to be left with no Jiang to brag about!”

Ah, what a beautiful night it was.