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Chapter Text

'—please know that I am fairing well and am in good health. Your filial son, Wu Tong.'

Lan Xichen smiled faintly as he laid down the last elegant brush strokes on the letter.

'Is that good, Lu-gonzi?' the young man, Wu Tong, asked timidly.

'A very nice sentiment,' Lan Xichen said diplomatically. 'Your parents will be relieved to hear from you.'

Wu Tong smiled and took the parchment Lan Xichen offered across the desk with careful hands. 'Your calligraphy is very refined, Lu-gonzi. You must have studied under a master. My parents will certainly know I was not the one to write this, but they will be pleased I could afford someone with such a fine hand.'

'Indeed,' Lan Xichen agreed softly.

Wu Tong folded the letter and tucked it away inside his robes, then drew out three coins. 'You should really charge more, Lu-gonzi. People around here could afford it, and your work merits it.'

Lan Xichen took the offered coins and dropped them into a pouch at the corner of his desk. 'You are very kind in your praise, Wu-gonzi. My thanks.'

Wu Tong rose and bowed. 'I’ll take my leave, Lu-Gonzi.'

Lan Xichen returned the bow and watched the young man stride happily back out into the street. He straightened his desk, stacking the sheaf of parchment neatly, lining up the selection of decorative seals and wax, and then cleaned his brush and sealed the ink pot. In the adjacent room, he could hear two young voices reciting their lessons in unison, interspersed with Lan Qiren’s hum of approval and occasional correction. He rose and went down the short hallway to the kitchen at the back of their small house and set the kettle on the hearth to boil. The Xue twins’ lessons would be ending soon and uncle would want his tea.

Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren had settled in the small rented house on the outskirts of Qinghe almost a year ago. In the six months before that, they had moved frequently, dodging the last remnants of Lan Clan’s feeble attempts to recapture Lan Xichen and trying to stay as far from populated centers of civilization as possible to avoid anyone recognizing them. Or more specifically recognizing Lan Xichen. Lan Qiren’s name and face had once been widely known, but that was in the days of the old Emperor, Wei Changze, and once he shed his Lan robes and clan ribbon and donned the nondescript accoutrements of a scholar and teacher, he could pass as nearly any ordinary member of the gentry. Lan Xichen could not be hidden quite so well, though he blended in so long as he kept his head down and stayed alert. 

It was his eyes. He had his mother’s eyes Lan Qiren always said. Mao Xiuying had eyes like the rising sun, and she had passed them to both of her sons. They were Lan Xichen’s most defining and dangerous feature that would clearly delineate him as a member of the now renegade Gusu Lan Clan that had been put down by their own greed for control of a throne that was never theirs and by Wei Wuxian who had more right to it than anyone yet could claim.

Though Lan Xichen had not inherited the singular bright golden glow of Lan Furen’s gaze in quite the way his little brother had.

His breath caught in his throat at the thought, and his fingers shook suddenly in his spooning out the leaves for his uncle’s afternoon tea.

Wangji.

He tried hard not to think about his little brother’s fate too often. It made him almost physically ill to recall the sounds of battle that night, echoing up from below as Lan Qiren urged him higher up into the steep cliffs that would eventually open to an escape route down the backside of the mountain, knowing his mother and Wangji had not escaped as planned before the Elders caught wind of what was happening, and Wei Wuxian and his garrison simultaneously attacked the front gates. Lan Qiren had kept them moving ruthlessly through the night, heading north, getting them as far from Gusu as he could before they both nearly collapsed from exhaustion. In the tense days that followed, they heard rumor that Lan Clan had been scattered, all but decimated, and there was no word of Wangji’s fate.

His mother, though, he knew was dead.

He had no idea what had become of her body. If she had been left to lay and rot where she had fallen. 

If Wangji was with her.

It didn’t seem possible his brother could have survived. If he had, it would not have been for long. Wei Wuxian would not allow a threat to his birthright to live. Not if the stories Lan Xichen heard were true. 

Though not much older than Wangji himself, Wei Wuxian was said to be ruthless and cold, determined to reclaim the throne that had been stolen from his father. He had left a path of blood in his wake already, and Lan Xichen knew there would be more to come. If Wangji was dead, then Lan Xichen could only be grateful that he was no longer subject to the torment of the clan Elders threats, could never be used as leverage for Lan Xichen’s obedience again, and would never fall into Wei Wuxian’s hands.

'Xichen.'

A heavy hand landed on Lan Xichen’s shoulder, and he nearly dropped the spoon into the tea leaves.

'Shufu.'

Lan Qiren turned him, enough to see the single tear that had slipped unnoticed down Lan Xichen’s cheek.

'Do not think on it, Xichen,' he said gruffly.

Lan Xichen smeared the tear away with the back of his hand and turned to finish filling the teapot. Lan Qiren was battle hardened, had served in Wei Changze’s personal honor guard before his dynasty fell, and he was not one to indulge in self-pity or sentiment. He tried, in his own way, to allow Lan Xichen his grief, but he was a soldier first and foremost and shows of affection did not come easy to him.

'Did the lesson go well, Shufu?' Lan Xichen asked, trying to steer the conversation into neutral waters.

Lan Qiren dropped his hand from Lan Xichen’s shoulder with a heavy sigh and hefted himself down to sit the table. He grimaced and rubbed at his left thigh with his knuckles. That was one of the overarching reasons they had settled here when they did. Lan Qiren had been badly injured in one of the last skirmishes with a band of rogue Cultivators led by an escaped Lan Elder who had recognized Lan Xichen in Wuzhou. He’d been stabbed straight through flesh and bone by a poisoned blade and, while his Cultivation was strong enough to rid his system of the poison with the help of a skilled healer they lucked upon two days later, the wound had not healed properly, and he had a permanent limp now. 

Once he had recovered, they had made their way here to Qinghe because it was as far from Gusu as one could go and still be at the edge of the civilized world, and it was also as far away from the Jade Palace as it was possible to be without being in Gusu. Qinghe Nie Clan had always kept its head down, too, in the affairs of politics and the Emperor. It had kept to itself for the last century or more, and the current leader, Nie Mingjue, seemed no more inclined than his forebears to get involved in the political suicide that was the contest for the Emperor’s throne. 

Lan Qiren left off massaging his damaged muscles. 'Yes, it went well. Xue Furen is considering allowing her daughter to attend lessons as well.'

Lan Xichen nodded and served their tea, taking his place across from his uncle at the table. 'That is very forward thinking of her.'

'Indeed,' Lan Qiren agreed noncommittally.

They drank in silence for a time, and then Lan Xichen said, 'I completed five letters today. We will have an ample sum left after paying the rent this month.'

Lan Qiren frowned over the edge of his cup. 'You do not need to do that, Xichen.'

'I know,' Lan Xichen replied, avoiding his uncle’s disapproving gaze. 'But I wish to make myself useful if I can.'

In truth, Lan Xichen was practically useless. Lan Qiren had been trained alongside Qingheng Jun in history, agriculture, clan management, and war tactics—all those things befitting a Clan Leader—but Lan Xichen’s education had been extremely limited, one more effort on the clan Elder’s part to keep him chained and under control, and he had no great talent for anything save his calligraphy, which had been a hobby since childhood. While Lan Qiren brought in a steady income tutoring and teaching the low nobility in Qinghe and those commoners who could afford the luxury for their children, Lan Xichen put his hobby to use copying out letters for those who either could not write or were not gifted with a fine hand and had need of a good calligrapher. It made him feel at least a little less of a burden on his uncle.

'Xichen, it will not always be this way,' Lan Qiren said. 'Eventually, Wei Wuxian will commandeer his prize, and things will settle down.'

Lan Xichen kept his eyes trained on his cup and said his next words carefully, 'You think even when—or if—he ascends the throne, he will simply stop his search for me?'

'You and Wangji were never the threat, Xichen,' Lan Qiren said, and Lan Xichen tried to stall the flinch at the mention of his brother’s name. 'The Elders were the threat. It was them Wei Wuxian was coming for that night he attacked Cloud Recesses.'

'He killed my mother. And Wangji.'

It took a great deal of effort for Lan Xichen to keep his voice level when he said the words.

'We don’t know that, Xichen. Your mother and I—'

'Then why have we not heard anything about him!' Lan Xichen burst out, his eyes hot with unshed tears when he glared at his uncle across the table.

'Xichen.' Lan Qiren set his cup down with deliberate care, and Lan Xichen averted his blurry gaze. 'You should not give up hope. When things have settled and it’s safer, I will do everything I can to learn Wangji’s fate. Until then, it is too dangerous to make such inquiries.'

'That could be years,' Lan Xichen said sullenly. 'Or never.'

Lan Qiren did not answer to that right away, but then, 'Possibly. In the meantime, you needn’t live inside these four walls like a monk. You should get out, Xichen. Make a few friends.'

'It is safer for both of us if I keep to myself,' Lan Xichen said.

'I do not mean that you should go knocking on Bujing Shi’s gates and announce yourself,' Lan Qiren countered. 'But you can certainly go out and about and meet people.'

Lan Xichen knew what his uncle was really saying. He was trying to get his sullen, reticent nephew to take an interest in something other than grief over his losses. But Wangji was all Lan Xichen had as he grew up under the oppressive watchfulness of the Elders, excepting his mother; and there was a natural barrier there because she was their parent and most concerned with their safety, especially after Qingheng Jun’s untimely death, rather than understanding their difficulties as children growing up in near isolation. Wangji had understood him in a way no one else could or even tried, and he had done the same for his brother. When there was no one and nothing they could turn to for comfort, they turned to each other. 

'I am content helping those who seek my services,' Lan Xichen said stiffly.

Lan Qiren sighed in frustration then and drained his cup. He pushed to his feet slowly, leaning his weight on his good leg. 'Tian Chin will be arriving for his lesson in a quarter of an hour. I will prepare.'

Lan Xichen nodded and did not look up to see his uncle’s sympathetic backward glance from the door.

————————————

'Wu Tong, you are devious!' Nie Huaisang chortled as he fingered the fine lines on the parchment his spy had produced.

Wu Tong shrugged. 'He didn’t suspect a thing, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t just approach him yourself, Nie-er-gonzi.'

'Oh, that would kill the mystery,' Nie Huaisang said. 'Besides, I’ve heard he’s very shy. Doesn’t go out much. I didn’t want to overwhelm him.'

Wu Tong gave his friend a doubtful look. 'You are too wound up in your romance stories, Nie-er-gonzi. There’s nothing mysterious in commissioning a commoner to do your book for you. And you have a fine hand yourself, Nie-er-gonzi.' He gestured loosely to Nie Huaisang’s hand painted fan that was fluttering slowly as he examined the parchment before him. 'Why do you even want him to do the calligraphy anyway?'

Nie Huaisang gave him a stern look. 'Because I cannot have my own hand recognized in the work, Wu Tong! My brother would rain hell on my head if he knew.'

Wu Tong shook his head, bemused. 'Somehow I don’t think Nie-zongzhu would ever come into possession of that kind of reading material, Nie-er-gonzi. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.'

Nie Huaisang hummed noncommittally. 'My brother has no imagination and no appreciation for art, that’s true.' He lifted the parchment to the light. 'This really is wonderful. I can’t see how a "commoner" could have learned to produce something this fine. You asked him about his training?'

'I mentioned it, but he didn’t say anything. He’s shy, like you said,' Wu Tong replied.

'Hmm, well then, I must find a way to draw him out.' Nie Huaisang folded his fan and tapped it against his chin. 'Perhaps it is time for a more direct approach. Does he ever leave that hovel of his?'

'Only to buy more parchment and ink so far as I can tell, and to go to market,' Wu Tong replied, flopping back on a pile of cushions. 'I’ve been keeping an eye on them all week. Neither of them are very social. The old man he lives with doesn’t get out much either, but he’s got a limp, so maybe it’s difficult for him.'

Nie Huaisang considered this. 'I’ll catch him out in the open then. A chance meeting. Where does he buy his supplies?'

Wu Tong snagged an apple from the bowl on the table and rubbed it to a shine on his sleeve before biting into it. 'He prefers Tai Li’s shop. She said he comes in regularly at the end of the week.'

'Good taste,' Nie Huaisang observed. 'Her wares are quality and not overpriced. He knows his craft. How is their financial situation?'

Wu Tong shrugged again. 'I’m guessing they’re not that well off. They dress simply, don’t seem to indulge in anything extravagant. The rent on that place is reasonable but not cheap, though. Why? Does it matter?'

'Information always matters,' Nie Huaisang said. 'Especially if I need to convince him to take the commission.'

'Ahhh.' Wu Tong nodded knowingly and took another bite of apple, wiping a dribble of juice from his chin with the back of his hand. 'You think he might not do it because of the… content. What’re you going to do if he doesn’t want the job?'

Nie Huaisang smiled. 'I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.'

———————————

Lan Xichen stepped into the stationers shop and shook off the early morning chill from outside. He preferred to come to the market early before the crowds converged, and normally the shop was deserted at this time of day. This morning, however, Tai Li had a customer already perusing her wares.

The young man was slight of build and only came up to Lan Xichen’s shoulder in height. He was dressed in the Nie colors, and Lan Xichen wondered if he was part of the household and out shopping for his mistress or master. He had a delicate looking fan folded and hanging from his belt, and his hair was done up in the intricate little braids that were the signature style of the Nie Clan. Lan Xichen considered leaving and coming back once the Gonzi had made his purchases because, while he and Lan Qiren did not purposefully avoid direct contact with members of the Nie Clan, it wouldn’t do to invite close inspection by one even if he was only servant. 

'Ah, Lu-gonzi! Good morning!' Tai Li greeted him before he could turn around. 'In for your weekly resupply?'

Her eyes slid to her other customer, but she did not greet him, and Lan Xichen thought he saw the faintest spark of unease in her gaze. He followed it to the young man again, but he only looked engrossed in examining the brightly colored inks Tai Li had available for purchase.

'Yes, Tai-nushi,' Lan Xichen said softly. 'I am in need of more parchment, please, and blue sealing wax.'

She nodded and gave him a smile, setting down the small crate she’d carried from the back room. 'I’ll get your parchment. I have a fresh order in the back. You know where the wax is.'

Lan Xichen nodded. The wax selection was across the shop where the young man was still looking over the shelves and now fingering a delicately carved brass seal in the shape of a chrysanthemum. Determined, Lan Xichen went to stand beside him and make a quick selection. Tai Li kept all of her supplies well stocked, and she had the best selection in town. The waxes she carried were vibrant and saturated with color. There were several shades to choose from, and Lan Xichen dithered a bit in deciding until he selected a deep blue that leaned just slightly toward green.

'An excellent choice,' the young man said. 'You have a fine eye for color.'

Lan Xichen startled a little the comment, though the Gonzi’s voice was soft.

'Th-Thank you,' he replied, and turned to take his selection to the counter.

'I’ve heard you have a fine hand as well,' he said.

Lan Xichen stiffened but didn’t turn around. He had several customers in town. It meant nothing that this young man knew he did calligraphy work.

'Thank you,' he said again.

Tai Li came back with a small stack of parchment and set it on the counter. 'Ah, a lovely choice, Lu-gonzi,' she admired the wax color. 'I’ll wrap all this up for you?'

'Please,' Lan Xichen replied.

The young man left his perusal of the shelf and came to the counter. He’d opened his fan and was fluttering it lightly even though the air was very cool in the shop.

'My name is Tai Feng,' he said.

'Lu Huan,' Lan Xichen replied out of courtesy, and then his eyes flicked to Tia Li. 'Any relation to…?'

Tai Feng nodded after a moment’s hesitation. 'Third cousin,' he said. 

Tai Li’s eyes flared briefly at this, but then she averted her gaze and bent to her task of wrapping Lan Xichen’s purchase. Lan Xichen frowned.

'I work in the compound doing copies for the scholars in the library,' Tai Feng continued. 'One of my masters is commissioning a book and has been in search of someone with a good hand to do the inscriptions. A friend of mine came to you for a letter not long ago, and I was fortunate enough to see your fine calligraphy. I think my master would be most pleased if you were to consider working with him.'

Lan Xichen backed up a step. He felt cornered suddenly, though there was no particular reason he should. It was not out of the realm of possibility that Tai Feng had seen one of his letters from a friend, but it seemed too coincidental that this man would find him here on the one day of the week he came to replenish his supplies.

'I am flattered,' Lan Xichen said. 'But I am perfectly content with my letter writing. I am certain there are scholars in the Nie compound with much finer hands than my own. Please excuse me, Tai-gonzi. Good day.'

Lan Xichen laid the coins for his purchase on the counter and scooped up his package, making such a hasty retreat he forgot to thank Tai Li.

'Lu-gonzi!' Tai Feng called and Lan Xichen heard scurrying steps chasing him down the street toward the produce market. 'Lu-gonzi, I apologize!'

A hand at his elbow drew Lan Xichen to a stop, and Tai Feng huffed, out of breath,

'I do apologize, Lu-gonzi. I didn’t mean to startle you.'

Lan Xichen pulled his elbow loose of Tai Feng’s hold. 'If you wished to offer a commission, why did you not just come to the house and make your request?'

Tai Feng looked crestfallen and chagrined. 'My friend said you very shy, and I thought…I thought maybe meeting you in the open would be more comfortable for you. I truly am sorry, Lu-Gonzi.'

Lan Xichen continued to frown at him, but the young man looked so desolate, it was hard to hang onto his anger or his suspicions. It was just an innocent error. There was nothing sinister at play here. Lan Xichen berated himself for his reaction and reached out to touch Tai Feng’s sleeve.

'Do not be so disheartened, Tai-gonzi. I apologize as well. There was no reason for me to react like that.'

Tai Feng’s face brightened immediately. 'Thank you, Lu-gonzi! My master would be very disappointed I’d botched the offer so badly.'

'As I said,' Lan Xichen replied as kindly as he could, 'I’m very content with my work. I’m not interested in your master’s offer, but please thank him.'

Tai Feng’s face fell again. 'Please, Lu-gonzi, only let me tell you about it.' He looked up and down the street briefly, spying the teahouse at the end. 'Let’s have tea! I’ll present the offer, and then at least I can go back and tell my master I did try, even if you finally refuse.'

Tai Feng looked so anxious, Lan Xichen did not have the heart to refuse. He was not especially keen on the public setting, but Lan Qiren likely would not welcome the interruption of conversation during his morning lessons either, and it could do no harm to listen to the offer. He nodded slowly,

'All right.'

Tai Feng grinned then and slid his hand into Lan Xichen’s elbow and tugged him down the street happily.

The teahouse was still quiet this early in the day, and Lan Xichen relaxed somewhat when Tai Feng chose an out of the way table in a corner. They ordered tea and rice cakes and Lan Xichen waited quietly for Tai Feng to expound on his master’s offer.

'May I ask, Lu-gonzi, before I tell you of my master’s work, where you were trained? Your hand really is very fine. One more fitting of someone privately tutored. Of the gentry class, perhaps?'

Lan Xichen folded his hands in his lap and tried not to meet Tai Feng’s inquiring gaze directly. 'My mother taught me.'

'Oh? She must have been very talented,' Tai Feng complimented. 'And she was…?'

'No one of note,' Lan Xichen said quickly. 'Her…mistress was very generous and allowed her to take lessons at her side.'

It was not particularly a lie, so Lan Xichen did not feel too bad about exaggerating the truth. Mao Xiuying had taught him his calligraphy, and she was very talented as Tai Feng surmised. Some of his few happy memories were sitting at his mother’s side with his brush and copying her strokes until he had mastered them to perfection. 

'Ah.' 

Tai Feng did not look entirely satisfied or convinced, but he left off his line of questioning, for which Lan Xichen was grateful. He did not want to lie. It was against the rules. Though, what bearing those rules had on his life any longer, he wasn’t sure, but Lan Qiren would not be happy about his divulging anything of their family to a stranger if he found out.

'This work your master is commissioning,' Lan Xichen prompted. 'Is it a history?'

Tai Feng snapped his fan closed and ran a finger along the edge, then unfurled it again to flutter somewhat nervously. 'Um…not exactly. It’s an illustrated work.'

'I am not particularly gifted in drawing,' Lan Xichen cautioned.

'Oh, not to worry! An artist has already been commissioned for the drawings. I just need someone to do the inscriptions for them,' Tai Feng said.

'You do?'

'We,' Tai Feng amended quickly, cheeks flushing a little pink. 'My master, of course. I’m only facilitating.'

'Of course,' Lan Xichen replied.

The tea and cakes arrived and Lan Xichen reached into his sleeve for his money pouch, but Tai Feng put a hand out.

'No, no! Allow me. I’m the one forcing you to sit and listen to my offer. Please.'

He took out his own pouch, and Lan Xichen observed that it was silk—much finer than the cloth of Tai Feng’s robes—and it was also embroidered with the Nie sect emblem of a beast with horns and fangs. He tensed, wondering exactly how a lowly servant had come into possession of such a fine thing. It was possible it belonged to his master, lent to him for the very purpose of greasing the way should Lan Xichen be disinclined to accept the proposal; but Tai Feng handled it with an ease that spoke of long custom dealing with fine things. And money.

When the proprietor left them, Lan Xichen fixed Tai Feng with a long look.

'Please make your proposal, Tai-gonzi. My uncle is awaiting my return.'

'Ah, yes, of course! Well, the book is—'

A long shadow fell across the doorway, and Lan Xichen would not necessarily have taken notice except that the few occupants of the room fell into hushed silence on sight of the newcomer. He looked up and his stomach tangled itself into a sudden painful knot.

Lan Xichen had only ever seen Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Nie Clan, once before. Several years ago, he had been at a conference Lan Xichen had attended that was hosted by the Wen Clan. It was only weeks after Qingheng Jun’s death, and Lan Xichen had not wanted to go, but the Elders had forced him, threatening Wangji with another whipping if he did not obey. Nie Mingjue had not been sect leader then, but had sat at his father’s right hand. Nie-zongzhu was an imposing man, bulky, tall, broad-shouldered, and scowling. Nie Mingjue had looked his twin, only slightly shorter and not quite filled out yet in his adolescence. He was only a year older than Lan Xichen but already a master of his saber and had dozens of kills under his belt. Lan Xichen remembered thinking longing how he wished he were as strong and powerful as Nie Mingjue so he would not have to bend to the Elders’ will, and he could fight back when they threatened his little brother.

Nie Mingjue had paid little attention to anyone during the conference. The Nie sect had always tended to keep to themselves, and ignore the political plots and intrigues of the Cultivation World at large. They were hunters, and they were practical and loyal and fiercely proud, and they had little love for anyone who did not share those qualities. Lan Xichen knew he certainly wasn’t any of those things and did not expect to attract the young warrior’s attentions no matter how much he wished to. So, it surprised him when Nie Mingjue wandered into a private rock garden near the interior of the Scorching Sun Palace where Lan Xichen had managed to escape his escort’s watchful eye for a few moments and find some peace in which to gather his wits after enduring the greeting ceremony in which he’d been showered with well-meaning condolences on his father’s death—something that had only served to upset him more than he already was. They had not spoken much, other than brief introductions, and Nie Mingjue had merely sat by his side and offered his quiet, stoic strength for reasons Lan Xichen could not comprehend but was too grateful to examine closely.

Even though that was the only time they spent together, Lan Xichen was disappointed when Nie Mingjue was forced to leave the conference early in order to escort an injured Nie-zongzhu home after he sustained a injury during a night hunt. The injury proved fatal six months later, and Nie Mingjue took his place as head of Nie Sect.

In the years since, Nie Mingjue had overtaken his father in height. His shoulders were just as broad and his manner just as imposing with his fierce scowl. Lan Xichen swallowed thickly, battling down the clench of terror in his chest because Lan Qiren had very specifically been avoiding contact with the sect leader. Nie Mingjue was the one person in Qinghe who might recognize Lan Xichen on sight, and his reaction couldn’t be predicted at this point.

Realizing he no longer had Lan Xichen’s attention, Tai Feng looked around to the doorway.

'Oh, damn…' he moaned and ducked his face behind his spread fan.

Lan Xichen looked at him and then back at Nie Mingjue who was scanning the room for whatever had brought him to this nondescript establishment, and his heart went straight up into his throat when Nie Mingjue’s gaze landed squarely on Tai Feng.

'Nie Huaisang!' Nie Mingjue barked and strode directly to their table.

"Tai Feng" fluttered his fan furiously and looked up from under his lashes meekly as Nie Mingjue towered over him, 

'Yes, Da-ge?'

Chapter Text

Nie Mingjue stomped up the steps of the teahouse with his little brother’s spineless, tattletale friend scuttling along behind him like a scared rat. He’d just spent a week on the road, was still covered in dust and smelled of stale sweat, and he wanted nothing more than a hot bath and something to eat that wasn’t dried, salted and tough as horsehide. Instead, he was chasing after his lazy, wayward little brother who was supposed to be with Nie Chen in the training yard doing drills. 

Damn that flighty little brat, Nie Mingjue thought in exasperation. Couldn’t he, just once, do what he was told?

Sometimes Nie Mingjue was sure his little brother had hatched from beneath a rock. He had none of the qualities of a proper Nie clan member and certainly none that would make him a good leader in due time, and he would be the clan leader. Eventually. There was no avoiding that dark truth. He’d been fighting Nie Huaisang’s obstinance at learning his saber and attending his lessons for years, but he’d cracked down hard in the last few months because neither of them could afford to waste any more time. Fate could not be avoided, and Nie Huaisang had to be prepared. One way or another.

He stopped in the doorway and scanned the room, gaze immediately lighting on Nie Huaisang’s back in the corner. If his little brother thought he was disguising himself in those work-a-day robes, he was doing a shit job of it. 

'Nie Huaisang!' Nie Mingjue barked.

His brother flinched, and Nie Mingjue heard a barely whispered 'oh, damn' come from that direction.

'Nie Huaisang, you are supposed to be training with Nie Chen,' Nie Mingjue marched over, grabbed his brother’s collar and shook him, ignoring the meek little glance Nie Huaisang was so good at using to get out from under his punishments with their parents when they were still living. 'What the hell are you doing here playing dress-up as a common servant!'

He dragged Nie Huaisang to his feet and loomed, waiting impatiently for an explanation.

'Da-ge! Your manners! My friend and I—'

'I don’t give a concubine’s ripe round ass about your friend, Huaisang. You are supposed to be studying!'

Nie Huaisang fluttered his fan and blushed hotly. 'Da-ge…language!' he hissed.

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes and glanced down at the other young man at the table. He tried to avert his gaze. 

But he wasn’t fast enough.

Nie Mingjue caught the quick glimmer of warm, glowing amber in the man’s eyes, and his grip on his brother went slack in shock. It couldn’t be… 

'You…?'

'Da-ge, this is Lu Huan, my new friend,' Nie Huaisang said ingratiatingly. 'Lu-gonzi, my brother, Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Qinghe Nie.'

Nie Huaisang was giving the man a chagrined and apologetic look, but Nie Mingjue ignored him, instead focusing on the man’s profile. He hadn’t seen that face in years, but he couldn’t possibly be mistaken, and yet—

'Lu Huan?' Nie Mingjue asked doubtfully.

The young man bowed low. 'Your humble servant, Nie-zongzhu.'

The voice was the same, Nie Mingjue was sure of it. They’d hardly spoken in that grotesque excuse for a garden in the Scorching Sun Palace, but he remembered the timbre of that voice. Soft. Gentle. Cool, but like a refreshing stream that could wash away all of one’s troubles. Oh, how he’d wished for the sound of that voice when his father had finally succumbed to his wounds and the weight of Nie Clan had landed hard and heavy on his shoulders.

Nie Mingjue remembered well, too, the moment he’d seen Lan Xichen enter Wen Ruohan’s ostentatious audience chamber, flanked by members of his clan who looked more like jailers than an escort. He’d been regal and carried himself with grace despite his obvious discomfiture with the current situation. He’d been sad around the eyes, too, though, still smarting from his father’s recent passing. It was one of the reasons Nie Mingjue had sought him out after the greeting ceremony. Surrounded by people, his own and all the visiting dignitaries, Lan Xichen had still looked like the loneliest boy in the world.

The most beautiful, too. 

And that hadn’t changed. If anything, he was more striking now than he was then, grown into his bold features and his taller than average height, even dressed as he was in plain robes without his ribbon. That struck Nie Mingjue strange. Those damn Lans coveted their symbolic ribbons, and yet, if this man was who he had to be, then where was it?

A sharp elbow in his ribs brought Nie Mingjue out of his thoughts.

'Da-ge, it’s not polite to stare,' Nie Huaisang hissed out of the side of his mouth.

Nie Mingjue scowled. 'Lu Huan,' he said again. 'Your name is Lu Huan?'

"Lu Huan" kept his gaze on the floor. 'Yes, Zongzhu. I am recently come to Qinghe, and Tai—your brother was seeking my services.'

'Your services?' Nie Mingjue gave Nie Huaisang a hard look.

'Calligraphy, Da-ge!' Nie Huaisang blurted. 'He has a brilliant hand.'

Nie Mingjue gave a short grunt to that. Lan Xichen. In Qinghe. Working as a calligrapher. What the hell was going on here? The last he’d heard of the Lan Clan, Wei Wuxian had attacked Cloud Recesses and practically scattered them to the wind. Rumor was both brothers had been killed in the action. Nie Mingjue had regretted he would never have the chance to meet Lan Xichen again, though that chance was ridiculously slim anyway, but he’d set it out of his mind because they’d barely been acquaintances, and he certainly wasn’t going to go getting his clan embroiled in Wei Wuxian’s business of chasing after the Emperor’s throne in order to confirm the rumor. Word was he had the most solid claim to it if the current Emperor happened to kick off without leaving any issue behind, but Nie Clan wasn’t in the business of bothering much with politics unless it directly affected them, and Nie Mingjue had taken great pains, like his father before him, to be sure that they didn’t. They had their own problems. There was no point in inviting more.

'Nie-zongzhu. Nie-er-gonzi,' Lu Huan bowed again. 'Please excuse me. My uncle is waiting on me. Good day.'

Before Nie Mingjue could open his mouth to protest, the man claiming to be "Lu Huan" practically dashed out of the teahouse, in such a rush that he left a wrapped package behind on the floor at his seat.

Nie Huaisang sighed, forlorn. 'Da-ge, you scared him off. I needed him!'

'Needed him for what?' Nie Mingjue asked absently, still watching out the door where Lu Huan had escaped without ever looking up. 

His eyes. Nie Mingjue needed to see his eyes. He might walk and talk and look like Lan Xichen, but the eyes would tell. Nie Mingjue had been shocked so hard by that first sorrowful glance from those sunset amber eyes that day his heart had nearly stopped in his chest. Everyone talked about them. They were a trademark of the brothers the same as their title, the Twin Jades of Lan. Nie Mingjue had never met the younger one, but people said his eyes were the same only brighter. If his brother’s were the color of the sunset, then the young one had eyes like its first rays at rising.

'A project, Da-ge,' Nie Huaisang whined. 'He was going to do the calligraphy for me. Well, if I’d had time to even make the proposal anyway. But you had to butt in!'

Nie Mingjue swung his gaze back and glared at his brother. 'What project?'

'A b-book,' Nie Huaisang stuttered, quailing under Nie Mingjue’s icy gaze. 'It’s nothing. Nothing important. Nothing indecent!'

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes. 'Huaisang, I don’t even want to know.' He motioned to the package Lu Huan had left behind. 'Pick that up.'

Nie Huaisang scrambled to grab the package and clutched it close. Nie Mingjue plucked it out of his hands, and his brother gasped, affronted.

'Da-ge! If I can return it, then maybe—'

'Where does he live?' Nie Mingjue demanded.

Nie Huaisang stared at him, eyes round. 'Why?'

'Tell me,' Nie Mingjue’s snapped.

'I-I’m not sure!' Nie Mingjue blurted.

'At the edge of town, Nie-zongzhu,' Wu Tong piped up from the doorway where he was cowering. 'I can show you!'

Nie Huaisang shot his friend a murderous glare. 'Wu Tong!' He turned to Nie Mingjue, beseeching. 'Please, Da-ge, don’t frighten him off. If you go charging after him—'

'You,' he jabbed a finger into Nie Huaisang’s chest, 'get yourself back to the compound. If I come back in half an hour and don’t find you stripped down in the training yard and soaked through to the skin with sweat from a workout with Nie Chen, I’ll put you through your paces myself!'

'Da-ge!' Nie Huaisang wailed but he scurried out ahead of Nie Mingjue and scampered down the steps, running off up the hill toward the front gates of Bujing Shi.

Nie Mingjue grabbed Wu Tong by the back of the neck and turned him around roughly. 'You. Take me to wherever this calligrapher lives.'

Wu Tong bowed multiple times, nearly falling over himself. 'Yes, Nie-zongzhu. It’s this way!'

Nie Mingjue griped the package tight in his fist and followed. 

Lu Huan. Right, Nie Mingjue thought. Well, he was going to find out right now exactly who "Lu Huan" was, and he was betting the discovery was going to shock them both.

————————————

Lan Xichen practically ran back to the rented house, nearly fell over Su Ting as she was coming out the door from her morning lesson with Lan Qiren, and then slammed it behind him and collapsed against the stout wood.

He folded both hands over his stomach and bent over. He felt dizzy and sick. This couldn’t be happening. How had he been so stupid as to fall for this? And why would Nie-er-gonzi approach him in disguise? None of it made sense. What made even less sense was the look in Nie Mingjue’s dark eyes before Lan Xichen had torn his gaze away. He was absolutely sure the man had recognized him. How, he had no idea. They barely knew each other. But that look…

Lan Xichen’s heart was pounding, and his stomach hurt. He took a deep breath and stumbled to a chair, sinking down into it. Lan Qiren was going to be furious. He’d made a mess. They would have to leave. There was no way around it. 

'Xichen?' Lan Qiren called from the other room. 'Is that you?'

'Yes, Shufu,' Lan Xichen answered, and silently cursed the quaver in his voice.

Lan Qiren’s uneven gate sounded across the floorboards, and Lan Xichen tried to take another breath and calm himself, but it only made him feel more lightheaded.

'Xichen, did you get the—' Lan Qiren stopped in the doorway when he saw Lan Xichen slumped in the chair. 'Xichen? What’s happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.'

Lan Xichen swallowed hard. 'Shufu, he saw me. He recognized me. I know he did.'

Lan Qiren’s gaze sharpened. His stance shifted. Lan Xichen recognized it. He knew that look. His uncle was bracing himself for a strike. 'Who saw you, Xichen?' he asked with measured calm.

'Nie Mingjue,' Lan Xichen said.

Lan Qiren’s eyes went wide and then narrowed. 'How? Where were you that he would see you? You’re sure he recognized you?'

'I was only…' Lan Xichen shook his head angrily. 'A man introduced himself in the stationers shop. He said he wanted to commission me for something, and I…' He fisted his hands on his thighs, still furious he’d been so duped. 'It was Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue’s younger brother.'

'Nie Huaisang has never met you,' Lan Qiren said. 'How would he have recognized you?'

'He didn’t, but Nie Mingjue came looking for him, and he saw me, and—'

'Xichen, calm down,' Lan Qiren raised a hand to stall Lan Xichen’s frantic rush of words. 'You’re sure he recognized you. He said your name.'

'No,' Lan Xichen said. 'But the way he looked at me…'

Lan Xichen’s heart lurched again at the memory of that look. It was so intense. Like Nie Mingjue had been looking for something for so long he’d nearly given up hope and then, suddenly, the thing was found. 

Lan Qiren pulled a chair over and sat down, stretching out his bad leg. 'It is not the end of the world, Xichen.'

'But we’ll have to leave!' Lan Xichen moaned. 'I’m sorry, Shufu.'

'Perhaps,' Lan Qiren sighed. 'But perhaps not. Nie clan has stayed neutral in the affairs of politics for over a century. It’s one of the most important reasons I brought us here. I had hoped to keep our presence unknown, but I do not see Nie Mingjue throwing us out to the dogs either. It would not benefit him in any way. If anything, it would only draw attention in quarters where he does not want it.'

'But, Shufu—'

A fierce banging knock on the door startled Lan Xichen. His stomach lurched again, and he stared at the door, fearful. Lan Qiren rose slowly and swung it wide. Than he bowed.

'Nie-zongzhu, your presence is an unexpected pleasure. How may we be of service?'

Lan Xichen tried to shrink back in the shadows of the room and avoid Nie Mingjue’s questing gaze past Lan Qiren’s shoulder.

'Is there a Lu Huan who lives here?' Nie Mingjue asked.

To Lan Xichen’s horror, Lan Qiren merely stepped aside, and Nie Mingjue filled the doorway with his muscular frame. 

'My nephew,' Lan Qiren said.

'Your nephew?' Nie Mingjue gave Lan Qiren an up and down look and recognition sparked in his eyes. 'Ah…Lan Qiren. I’ve heard of you.'

'I would expect so,' Lan Qiren said evenly. 'Your father and I crossed swords a time or two in the distant past. Under amicable circumstances.'

'Uh-huh,' Nie Mingjue acknowledged noncommittally, then his gaze swept the room and found Lan Xichen. 'Then it is you.'

Lan Xichen held very still and tried to remember to breathe under that intense, dark gaze. Nie Mingjue had the same look in his eyes now he’d had at the teahouse. Whatever he thought he’d lost, he found it when he stepped into the room. 

He offered out a package tied in paper and string. 'You forgot this…Lan Huan.'

It was a terrible affront for Nie Mingjue to use Lan Xichen’s birth name without his express permission, but Lan Xichen could do no more than swallow convulsively with a dry, clicking sound and grip the package in numb fingers, drawing it into his lap.

'H-how did you know?'

Nie Mingjue breathed out slowly and the barest of smiles tipped one corner of his mouth up.

'The eyes.'

Lan Xichen poured the tea, refilling all their cups for a third time in the last hour, and he was proud that his hands didn’t shake. He was still unsettled by Nie Mingjue’s presence in their small kitchen. Maybe only because his incredible bulk made the room seem claustrophobic, but maybe, too, because Nie Mingjue kept watching him the entire time Lan Qiren gave him an account of their coming to Qinghe. It was almost as if he were afraid if he looked away too long, Lan Xichen might disappear on him.

'Nie-zongzhu, I must ask your stance on this now that you understand my purpose in bringing Xichen inside your borders,' Lan Qiren said, a hint of warning in his tone. 

Nie Mingjue passed another look at Lan Xichen, and Lan Xichen dipped his head to keep his gaze trained on his cup.

'Lan Qiren, you’ve lived under my nose for almost a year without my knowing and apparently safely from what I can see.' He waved a vague hand at their humble surrounds. 'I see no reason that cannot continue. If you do not bring trouble to my door, I’ll bring none to yours.'

Lan Qiren nodded at this, but then asked, 'And if trouble does come?'

Nie Mingjue gave him shrewd look. 'If you’re asking for my protection, Lan Qiren, I can make you no promises. I’ll not give you away, but neither will I put my clan in danger on your behalf. I’ve no interest in taking sides in this political mess, nor getting on Wei Wuxian’s bad side about it. Or that shadow of his.'

'Shadow?' Lan Qiren frowned.

Nie Mingjue shrugged and lifted his cup. 'He’s a acquired a bodyguard, people are saying. A very effective one. Devoted and deadly. One might go so far as to call him an assassin.'

Lan Qiren made a distasteful noise and muttered into his own cup, 'To think he would employ such tactics. His father would be ashamed.'

'Times change, laoshi,' Nie Mingjue said. 'Everyone and their dog wants a shot at that throne, and if Yuan Khan can’t get himself an heir, and if the rumors of his worsening illness are true, they are all going to get their chance. It will be a bloodbath. Wei Wuxian isn’t stupid. He’s already proved that.' He gave Lan Qiren a measuring look that spoke volumes, and his eyes slid once again to Lan Xichen, but there was something like sympathy in them then. 'He’ll need someone at his back that he trusts, and he’s set himself up well with his brother at one side and this shadow assassin at the other.'

Lan Qiren harrumphed his displeasure but did not say anything.

They sat in tense silence until there was a firm knock at the front door.

'My afternoon pupil has arrived,' Lan Qiren said, maneuvering himself to standing. 'You might want to leave by the back way, Zongzhu, if you don’t wish to be seen in such a humble household.'

Lan Qiren’s words were weighted with a warning that Nie Mingjue seen leaving this house would likely cause raised eyebrows and bring notice that they would rather not have, if his arrival had not already spawned such. Nie Mingjue nodded and drained his tea, setting the cup down with a solid thunk that made Lan Xichen twitch. He rose, filling the room and making the low ceilings feel almost oppressive with his height. 

'Just keep your heads down like you have been, and we’ll all be happy,' he said.

Lan Qiren gave him a single nod and then bowed. 'Zongzhu.'

'I’ll see you out,' Lan Xichen said when his uncle had left the room and pulled the door slightly to in order to keep out prying eyes.

He rose and picked up the cups and teapot and set them beside the basin to wash, then pulled open the narrow back door leading out in to the small, enclose vegetable garden. Nie Mingjue followed him.

When Lan Xichen reached to unlatch the gate, Nie Mingjue put a hand on his arm.

'What I said back there, Lan Xichen, about—'

'Why did you come here?' Lan Xichen asked. He looked up to meet Nie Mingjue’s slightly surprised gaze but didn’t dare hold it because he thought he saw a faint glimmer of hurt there, and he couldn’t understand why that would be. 'You could simply have let it go. Why did you come to this house? Endanger myself and Shufu, and possibly yourself if you do not wish to be involved?'

Nie Mingjue dropped his hand and sighed heavily. 'I had to know.'

'Know what?'

Nie Mingjue scrubbed at his stubbled jaw with a hand in frustration. 'To know that it was you.'

Lan Xichen’s stomach, still tight from the ordeal of the morning, turned over again. 'Why?'

Nie Mingjue was silent for so long Lan Xichen thought he might leave without answering. It would be his right. He must be angry at all this, no matter he said he would ignore their presence inside his territory so long as they didn’t bring trouble to his people. 

But then a long, strong finger touched his chin and tilted it up until Lan Xichen was forced to meet Nie Mingjue’s searching gaze.

'I’m sorry, Lan Xichen,' he said, more softly than a man of his size or breeding ought to be able. 'I’m sorry for that day in Qishan when everyone was smothering you with all their paper-thin condolences. I’m sorry for what happened to your clan, and I’m sorry about your…brother.'

Lan Xichen’s heart lurched, and he barely contained his gasp of hope. 'Do you know anything about Wangji?'

Nie Mingjue shook his head, and his eyes softened with sadness. 'No more than you, I expect. Everyone thought you both dead. It’s what they were all saying.'

'Not everyone,' Lan Xichen said darkly, his eyes sliding back to the house briefly, thinking of Lan Qiren and the injury he sustained at the hands of those who had tracked them down.

'Is that how Lan Qiren got the limp?' Nie Mingjue asked, curious.

Lan Xichen gave a bare nod. 'Defending me. Before we came here. He nearly died.'

Finger and thumb closed on his chin when he tried to look away, shamefaced. 

'You think you weren’t worth it,' Nie Mingjue said.

It wasn’t a question. Lan Xichen knew the man had seen the self-derision in his eyes. 'I am weak and useless to him,' he said in an angry whisper.

Nie Mingjue dropped his hand and stepped closer into his space, looking at him intently. 'Would you like not to be?'

'Wh-what?'

'I am glad I was right,' Nie Mingjue said. 'I’m glad you’re alive and, despite what I said back there, I’d like to see that you stay that way. So. Would you like to learn how to defend yourself, so Lan Qiren won’t have to worry so much about you?'

Lan Xichen blinked in surprise. Up to this point, his uncle had not made any offer to train him further or strengthen his fledgling Core. Lan Qiren was a great Cultivator, almost as powerful as Mao Xiuying, and he was more than capable of teaching Lan Xichen. Why he had not, Lan Xichen was not certain. Perhaps it simply wasn’t paramount in his mind at the moment. Their survival was more important. Or he might be afraid if Lan Xichen grew strong enough, he would take it into his head to try and search out his brother. That was not an invalid fear. So long as Lan Xichen was dependent on Lan Qiren’s strength to protect him, he would never leave his side, but—

'Why would you do this?' Lan Xichen asked, slightly breathless because Nie Mingjue had shifted his weight, seemed to be looming over him and even under the wide open sky there suddenly didn’t seem to be enough room to breathe.

'Like I said,' Nie Mingjue dipped his head to look directly into Lan Xichen’s eyes. 'I want you alive.'

Before Lan Xichen could ask why it mattered so much to the sect leader of Qinghe Nie whether or not he lived or died, Nie Mingjue was out the gate and gone.