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Chapter Text

"Zewu-xian-ji!"

Lan Xichen was not unused to being called in that frantic tone at all hours of the day, although she did wish it were less frequent. Putting on her outer robe, she exited Hanshi to a group of younger disciples, around the age of Jingyi and Shizui.

She had to remind herself often that although she felt a hundred years old, especially after everything she had to go through, her age was only nine and thirty.

"Yes?" Her voice was still measured, well, she hadn't been sleeping anyway. Sleeping had been a forgotten luxury most days. It might just as well be, considering she had entirely too much on her plate.

"The group hasn't returned yet from Mo Village."

It gave her a pause. They were sent out nearly two days ago to suppress the demonic presence there, and factually, they should already be done with it. Especially when both Shizui and Jingyi are there, two of the most promising cultivators of their generation.

Shizui was, after all, trained personally by the great Hanguang-jun himself, and Jingyi was her son; he had one of the strongest golden cores she had ever seen. And the rest of their crew, Ruoxue especially, is the best in tracking amongst all four major clans at the moment. And Yiran was there too, personally trained by both her and Wangji in healing. She is quite competent for a 17-year-old if Xichen has anything to say.

As on cue, the far east sky of Cloud Recess was filled with a singular blue signal, and a collective gasp went up. A distress signal.

Xichen controlled her composure. She couldn't leave the premises at the moment. Huaisang was due for a visit at any given time. But she knew she didn't have to bother anyway. The soothing melody of the Guqin that enveloped the environment had already stopped, meaning Wangji had gone to attend to the matter.

"Hanguang-jun has gone to investigate the matter. You need not worry. Forcing herself to sound calm and gentle, she eased the youngsters. "Now, go and rest before your Qiren Shifu punishes you for staying past the ninth hour," She added with a conspiratory tone, to which she got slight giggles and whispered smiles in response.

Looking at their retreating backs, Xichen forced herself not to sigh audibly and kept herself from frowning outright. Yes, she was their Sect Leader, but at the same time, she was a mother. Her chest began to fill with trepidation at what might have transpired at Mo village and whether, although selfish, her son was okay.

"I thought you might visit earlier, Huaisang," Xichen said, pouring tea for the Sect Leader of Qinghe Nie. Although it had been nearly a decade since Jue-ge had passed away, it seemed that Huaisang was still preliminary into the matters of handling a sect.

When she looked at him, she still saw the little child who clung to her robes at the age of five, the first time she met him, crying for his brother, the teenager she saw growing up, more fascinated with his tales and fans than real diplomacy or sword fighting. But simultaneously, she saw his eyes taking things in more than they used to, typically wary of the world, as if it was his default. His actions were not uncordial as they once had been, clumsy, yes, but not as predictable, not as ungraceful.

Sometimes, his eyes unsettled hers, a muted green that seemed to know a little too much, but then it switched back into the little boy who cried 'Xichen-jie!', warmth personified, a jubilant smile always on his face.

It couldn't have been easy for him. Mingjue, when he was alive, never was soft with his brother outright, but everybody knew he spoiled him rotten. Huaisang never grew up with the burden of an entire sect on his shoulders, nor had he ever feared that he would have to take on that said burden. Nie Mingjue had always looked the very epitome of what a Sect Leader should be.

God knows how long Xichen needed to get her Sect full within her reins, despite being the named heir since birth.

"I wanted to visit, Xichen-jie. However, I had to make a brief visit elsewhere. There was an incident that required prompt action."

For a second, the glint in Huaisang's eyes reminded her of Mingjue whenever he was getting battle-ready.

Undisputedly, Nie Mingjue was the best hand-to-hand combatant of their generation. Xichen herself was often considered the most gifted cultivator of their time, but even she had beaten him only a handful of times. With brute force, no one could've been Mingjue's equal. And he thrived in it. That is not to say he was homicidal, but good fights gave him spirit and much-needed revenge, even more so.

Seeing her observant look, Huaisang immediately schooled his expressions back to carefree, open, and honest, yet again.

Dear God, Xichen was exhausted.

Lately, it felt like everybody around her had started to wear many masks, many facades. Guangyao was one, and Wangji- well, his face was always unreadable to anyone but her, and for the past 13 years, all she read there was devastation and a cracked visage of heart-wrenching sorrow.

"Sure, you did." Too tired to question Huaisang on his obvious sidestep, Xichen conceded, placing her signature red bean buns- ones that the Nie brothers loved immensely- next to him. At that, the lightness and the happiness in his eyes became genuine, and Xichen felt marginally better.

"My favorite!" Forgoing propriety, Huaisang grabbed the sweet, not waiting for her, his senior in terms of rank and status, to start the meal. Xichen huffed up a breath of amusement when halfway through his first bite, he remembered his manners and dropped the half-eaten bun, his cheeks full like a squirrel eating nuts, large eyes , slightly guilty. She smiled then, truly, letting him know he was fine, and he grinned up at her, the paste evident on his teeth.

She shook her head, despite his six and thirty years, he had not forgotten the childish charm.

"How is Jingyi and Wangji-Xiong?"

"At Mo Village on a night hunt," pouring herself tea, Xichen replied, looking at the one hundred and one scrolls Huaisang had brought with him this time. At the corner of her eye, she noted Huaisang's movements delaying by a second, and she looked up.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, the alarms in her mind ringing faintly.

"Yes, all is well, Jiejie." Clever. Huaisang hardly ever called her that unless he definitely wanted her to focus on that endearment and forget the conversation. But she was Zewu-xian-ji for a reason. She kept her eyebrows raised, waiting for elaboration.

"There was an issue a few months prior in that village, which we were alerted about since it's near the Qinghe Nie border. A man named Mo Xuanyu- causing a ruckus. I was just reminded of that."

Mo Xuanyu. Xichen knew that name. Has heard Guangyao mention it often. He had been his right-hand man until he had gone and fallen for Guangyao. And A-Yao had proclaimed that he had attempted to harass him, and he had struck and banished him from Lanling Jin.

The lore about the man lately was that he had been declared clinically insane and mentally unstable, whispering phrases and incantations like a man with schizophrenia.

"Really? What was the issue?" Opening one parchment, Xichen continued the conversation, not very bothered by the precipice of it.

"That he was following the teachings of Yiiling Laozu." Huaisang's voice was grave, and Xichen's hands gripped the parchment a touch tighter.

"What?"

It can't be. Then that was why Wanyin was so affected by the whole story when Mo Xuanyu was brought up at the last meeting.

Jiang Wanyin was, after all, in an active hunt to annihilate all and every man daring to practice Demonic Cultivation. But Yiiling Laozu's teachings? Wei Wuxian's teachings? They have been lost for years. Xichen would know. Wangji did everything within his power to collect each and every one of his personal articles.

"That's the rumor, although hardly feasible. Many talented cultivators have attempted to replicate his teachings, his methods. No one had succeeded so far." Huaisang's tone was neutral, but there was some feeling dancing behind his green orbs.

"Indeed. Wuxian was not known for making sense of his ration when it comes to his writing," Xichen said carefully, briefly remembering the one time she checked on his work and nearly had an aneurysm.

He was brilliant beyond question, and his methods were unbelievably innovative and creative. The idea itself was thorough and vast, but his notes...one should consider oneself lucky if his handwriting was intelligible itself.

"If one truly wants to replicate that level of talent, perhaps Wei Wuxian needs to be resurrected himself." Xichen meant it to be an offhand remark, without Wuxian even that path was not quite clear, since it   was also his finding.

Of course, she had a general idea of the process, as did many high-ranking cultivators, but he was the only one who had succeeded in the shunned way. Thus, her comment was largely layered with amusement and dry humor. But surprisingly, Huaisang's eyes brightened.

"Yes, indeed." Huaisang's voice was smooth, but his eyes held a sense of mirth, although Xichen could hardly find joy in the scenario.

He was up to something, but Xichen was not keen on finding out.

"That is of no matter. But now, Huaisang, you really can't keep traveling to Gusu every time you have to make political decisions. You have been the Sect Leader for nearly a decade. You should be able to decide whether you want to accept- " she paused to read the text on the parchment "- ' the formal invitation to the naming ceremony of Yu clan leaders' third cousin's daughter ' by now" Her voice was dry now, devoid of the tension and teasing beyond the surface.

"Oh, come on, Xichen-jie. Remember the last time I attempted to answer one by myself? I almost caused a civil war among 6 minor clans. I'd rather not take the risk. Besides, I have you. Politic incarnate." He said, adding his puppy eyes to enhance the effect.

"I am not the Sect Leader of Qinghe Nie." Smirking, Xichen replied, already outlining what she could reply with.

"You are still the lady of the Sect, Xichen-jie. It didn't end with Da-ge, nor am I keen on ending it myself. You and Jingyi...are the only family I have left." With uncharacteristic sincerity, Huaisang reached for her hand with both of his, enveloping her left in the middle, defenseless for the first time in the night.

Xichen didn't need any reminders of that; she was already living in the pain of loss with each breath she took. Had it not been for Wangji, Jingyi, Huaisang himself, and Guangyao's encouragement, she would've stepped down a long time ago.

Allowing herself a moment of ingenuity, she squeezed the hands enveloping hers. He might not be the same man he had been when all was well in their lives, but Huaisang was still family. And she owed it to Mingjue - to the love of her life, who had loved her without any empty spaces, without any room to feel otherwise - to keep that family intact.

"I miss him."

"I miss him, too."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

39 years ago

"Zongzhu, your brother is here as requested," A random Lan Disciple announced, bowing low to Qingheng-Jun. Ah, it had been that long now, so long that he didn't recognize the disciples of his own Sect.

"Thank you. Bring him in," He addressed with his usual calm, although his nerves were on fire. 

Yesterday, the doctors of his Clan had informed him that his wife would be in labor either today or tomorrow. Everyone was beyond excited at the moment, for the arrival of the future leader of Gusu Lan - to welcome him, to adore him, to watch him grow into a fine gentleman. But Qingheng-Jun wasn't.

Yes, he hoped his child would be loved, respected, revered, but more so than anything, he wanted a healthy child, a bundle of preciousness he could love and cherish, a beacon of light to his otherwise dark world marred with past sorrows. He just wanted his child to be safe and happy, unlike how his fate had dealt his cards.

His younger brother came in and bowed deeply, stubborn dark eyes meeting his. 

Ever since his marriage, or rather his wild marriage-his Didi hasn't looked at him with even a semblance of tenderness as in their youthful days. His eyes held resentment, frustration, and anger, letting him carry a burden that wasn't his at his mere twenty years of age.

"Qingheng-Jun" 

His brother's voice was cutting, razor sharp, completely devoid of any familiarity that might have existed previously. If there was anything Lan Qiren knew how to do, it was to make his displeasure known in a way that would hurt.

"Qiren," he acknowledged, signaling him to take a seat, pouring his favorite tea. He nudged the cup forward, but Qiren took one look at the cup and took it right off the table and set it on the floor - well, then, it was safe to assume any of his hospitality wouldn't be welcomed.

"If Zongzhu pleases, I would like to assist Madam Lan in these trying times. Please let me know what I could do for you." His eyes stayed on his face, burning, judging. Demanding in not so many words to put them both out of this misery by forcing them to converse.

"Must you always be so stubborn, Qiren? Must you cut off all our ties so brutally?" Before Qingheng-Jun could comprehend his own words, his exhaustion found its voice, completely defeated, laden with sorrow. It was pathetic, even he referred to himself by his titles, his actual name lost to the wind.

"This didn't take place overnight, Qinheng-Jun. You made the bed, now lie in it." His voice was cutting, but his eyes were even sharper. There really was no point in trying to dissuade a hurt and angry Qiren.

"Very well, then. I invited you to ask you a favor," He opened the conversation. At that, Qiren let out a mirthless laugh that sounded entirely too cruel.

"Why, leading your Sect while you still are the named 'Zongzhu' isn't satisfactory for you? Being the caretaker and primary guardian of your own wife is not enough? Giving up my life to rectify your mistakes is too little?" His questions, one by one, twisted the knife ebbed in his heart a little more.

Seriously, how dare he? Qiren had only been 17 when he married. Never had I been prepared for a Sect Leadership. But he had carried the entire Gusu Lan so well, in a manner Qinheng-Jun hadn't learn even when he attained the Leadership at 20. 

Qiren was 7 years his junior, but he had already filled too many shoes that Qinheng-Jun should have had. Despite his name and seal on every parchment, Lan Qiren had been the true Leader of the Sect ever since his horrible decision that night.

"Qiren-" He tried placating, knowing he was entirely defenseless.

"Yes, tell me, Zongzhu. What more can this lowly disciple do for you?" His voice was full of venom. 

Qingheng-Jun knew that the past year hadn't been easy on Qiren. After nearly 3 years with them, Cangse Sanren had run away with their good friend Wei Changze in the dead of the night. Qiren, who had been unfortunately awake at the moment, had tried to stop her from making a blasphemous decision. She was the esteemed disciple, perhaps the greatest disciple of the immortal Baoshen Sanren, and was revered as such - had more than enough matches had she wanted one, from the highest of Sect Leaders to the brightest cultivators of their time, but she had wanted Changze, a mere servant.

For the cultivation world, it was devastation. Had she coupled up with a primary Sect, the offspring they would have, the lineage they would create could have been the provider of undeniably great cultivators. More so than that, she, as a disciple of an immortal, could have been permitted to pass on her techniques of cultivation, unorthodox but brilliant. It was a lost opportunity on every front. But Qingheng-Jun felt a sense of kinship with the woman. She had loved and wanted. Those two emotions never waited for reason.

He was a prime example of the fact.

But to Qiren, who, despite his strictness and outward annoyance, had loved the woman, it was suffering, as it had been for Jiang Fengmian, who had met him before he parted for Yungmeng Jiang in tearful eyes, having said 'yes' to the third eldest daughter of the Yu clan. Yu Ziyuan was a beauty with a wasps' tongue - arguably one of the greatest cultivators of their generation, but she lacked the vigor and playfulness that Cangse Sanren had, which had attracted the gentle, fun-loving Fengmian to her orbit effortlessly.

Qiren, on the other hand, turned down any feminine advances for a whole year, but before he could get back on his feet, now here Qingheng-Jun was, asking him the impossible yet again. He asked for his brothers' apology a hundred times in his heart, too cowardly to voice it out loud. Qiren had always been the brave one amongst them.

"Now that my wife-" He really expected the sarcastic huff from Qiren at that, and he did not disappoint. "-is ready to have our first child, I'd like for you to be the official guardian. The child needs at least one parent." He knew he was asking too much, but he didn't trust anyone else but Qiren on this.

Qiren got up, his sword in his hands, trembling in anger.

"You took the best years of my youth away from me - the time you spent making a name for yourself and getting proclaimed as the 'great Qingheng-Jun'- by making me carry a title that is NOT mine in YOUR name, made me a pseudo husband to Jiejie in all but intercourse and now, you want me to be a pseudo father in all but name?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!" Qiren yelled, seething in anger. This time, Qingheng-Jun really had screwed up if Qiren was already cursing aloud. But he could do nothing but bow his head in shame because what was he supposed to answer? Qiren was right.

"Do you really have the AUDACITY to ask me this?! How FUCKING DARE-"

"ZONGZHU!!"  A sudden shout interrupted Qiren's violent but very valid shouting. 

"Madam Lan is in labor!!"

Immediately, Qingheng-Jun felt as if the ground started rotating under his feet. He was already sitting, but he felt faint, and he was aware he swayed dangerously, if the disciples' alarmed shouting was any indication. But Qiren didn't turn, not even a blink of an eye.

"Jiejie needs me more than you, you selfish bastard." Muttering low so only he could hear, Qiren left his room, white robes swishing with his fast pace. Qingheng-Jun allowed a smile at the horrified disciples there, seeing Qiren disobey the manners in Lan Clan to always respect the Leader, hoping to say that everything was well, but he was shaking. As soon as the doors closed, he collapsed, burying his head in his arms. He was going to be a father... but in name only. 

If Qiren resented him this much already, will his little Lan Zongzhu too?

That was the only thought in his head as tears started to fall.

Nearly eight hours later, at the very first crack of dawn, Qiren was at his door, for the first time in two consecutive days. At his arms, nestled peacefully, was a little bundle; a soft gurgling sound was the only thing he heard. 

He paused his hours of pacing, hurriedly opening the door, almost tripping in the process, but Qiren didn't seem to care. His eyes were focused on a face, but not his own.

Qingheng-Jun reached out to hold his child, but Qiren clutched the bundle tighter to himself absentmindedly. He had to laugh mirthlessly. Despite his comment on being a 'pseudo father', Qiren was already more of his child's father than him. Then, as if realizing what he had done. Qiren looked at him, the usual anger in his eyes not there since he was 17, but now, sheepish.

Qingheng-Jun took the bundle from him, who was already making a few vast differences around him, although only a few hours into this world. Adjusting the cloth, he peered into the little face and was immediately breathless.

She...

She was beautiful.

His child, completely impartially, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Skin as white, as clear as jade, her little body already pleasantly warm, not even having the usual temperament of babies to be screaming and thrashing, she was already perfect. Instead, she was softly gurgling, content in her embrace, happy. Unwillingly, the tears he held at bay started to fall. One such tear fell directly on his daughter's cheek, and she opened her eyes and..

Oh, dear Gods.

Her eyes were a replica of his wife. A warm amber tone, like rich honey, warmth and light on every inch, wide and expressive. He fell in love all over again, his heart impossibly soft as he nuzzled her little face. Promptly, she let out a little coo, the purest, most angelic of sounds he had the fortune of hearing, eyes slightly crinkled. Gods, she was perfect.

Realizing that he had been staring at his daughter mutely for nearly three minutes, finally, Qingheng-Jun finally turned to Qiren, who looked at him inquisitively, and not with resentment, since forever. His daughter really was a miracle, it seems. 

"How was-" As if anticipating his question, Qiren interrupted, reaching for the child. But Qingheng-Jun was not ready to part from her just yet. She was his baby. He needed her to be in his arms at least a little more.

"Jiejie was fine. It was an uncomplicated birth." Seeing his hands tighten around his daughter, Qiren took his arms back, settling opposite him as he sat himself down too, his baby clutched to his heart. 

"Was she- I mean- how did she..." Qingheng-Jun went speechless. What should he ask? He had never spoken to her throughout her pregnancy, except maybe all of 10 times, as they were only allowed to see each other once every month. For nine months, it had been Qiren who had been his wife's support.

"She was happy, content. She took one look at A-Huan and bawled her eyes out. She spent nearly an hour just rocking her, staring at her and only paused to ask me 'Isn't she a marvel, Qiren?' or to proclaim that she was 'just perfect'" Qiren's voice was also uncharacteristically happy as he gazed down at the sleeping child, warm and soft and tender. He let love pour into his expressions now, after sealing it at 17.

But Qingheng-Jun's mind was stuck on one word.

"A-Huan?" 

"That's what Jiejie wants the baby to be called," Qiren said, with a pointed look at him, as if daring him to refute.

A-Huan. Happiness. Radiance. Two things that both he and his wife weren't privy to but desperately hoped for. She had wanted that to be the life of her little daughter. How dare he refute that?

"A-Huan. Perfect," He said, placing a featherlight kiss on his sleeping baby. "Welcome home, A-Huan. You already are the greatest happiness of all our lives."

"She needs a courtesy name, Qingheng-Jun." Cradling A-Huan, Qiren remarked, for the first time in his life, uncaring of the Elder Council surrounding them, completely devoted to his tiny niece. He tickled her playfully, as the three-day-old let out a simple pearl of laughter. So pure, so innocent. Involuntarily, Qingheng-Jun felt his lips stretch into a smile. His daughter...he was so proud of her already.

"Yes, Zongzhu, the child is already three days old. You must decide," One particular elder, Lan Shuheng, remarked, almost carelessly. Qingheng-Jun didn't have a particular liking for the man. He was always the one, first to interfere in all his personal affairs, as if he had a right to do so. Yes, Qingheng-Jun was the Sect Leader, but he was equally his own man. But he hadn't established it soon enough. He hoped his daughter would be able to do it before it was too late. Before becoming a puppeteer at the hands of her own Clan, her home.

"I am not the sole parent here, Shuheng-Xiong. I'd like to ask Madam Lan's input as well," He remarked, feeling pitiful at his own predicament. He, although the leader of a great Sect, didn't have the luxury of speaking his wife's name publicly. He could feel Qiren's eyes burning a side of his face, as if asking, 'Since when have you ever cared for the opinion of another?'

He was not unfair, but he wasn't fair either. Qiren knew only a half-truth of his marriage, and so did the world. He would rather keep it this way than take his chances with the truth. The truth only he and his wife knew for true.

"That wench of a woman-" The Elder started, and identical murderous looks immediately stopped him, both he and Qiren looking at him, ready to kill. Qiren, despite hating his reckless marriage, still loved his wife like his own sister. They had grown close, since he was the only man who bothered to talk with his wife for real. She had enough servants, yes, she was Madam Lan after all, but no real companionship. The Sect knew very little about her other than the fact that she had murdered someone and was trapped in a loveless marriage. Qingheng-Jun hoped at least one of them was untrue.

"What he meant to say was that the Sect Leader has always decided the courtesy names of his blood offspring with the council, before his spouse," A more tactful Elder remarked. Qingheng-Jun didn't want them to decide that for his baby. His life was already a living hell that he couldn't escape, due to their 'just' reasons. Lan Huan should be named with love, not with responsibility.

"Xichen," Qiren interrupted, looking at the baby in his arms, who, despite being in the presence of many unfamiliar faces, showed no signs of distress but radiated quite joy.

Qingheng-Jun knew this was not Qiren's spontaneity. He had also thought about what name the world would know his daughter should have. He didn't look at him while making the suggestion either. Which made him even sure of the fact that Qiren did indeed give it much thought. Qingheng-Jun was thinking something similar along the lines. Besides, if he was going to care for her in the absence of her parents, Qiren deserved at least her name.

"That is fitting. I agree," Leaving no room for other counterarguments, he decided. 

Xichen was not a feminine name, and he could clearly see the displeasure written on most of the faces there. But Xichen was a strong choice. Exactly what he hoped his daughter would grow up to be - Hope, Duty, Loyalty, and above all, Warm. Unlike the cold Gusu Lan, he hoped against all hope, his child could find warmth in her life.

Besides, a strong name was good, for he was about to change the trajectory of his lineage. 

"Well, the name could certainly be more maidenly," One female Elder, Lan Xueling, if he recalled right, quipped, displeasure evident in her tone. Qiren just glared at the offender until she shut herself up, making him suppress a smile. Qiren really was so consistent with his stubbornness.

"That is no issue, she won't be the name directly tied to the Sect in any case." Clearly lacking basic comprehension, Shuheng remarked, making Qingheng-Jun turn towards him sharply.

"Whatever could you mean by that?" His voice was sharp. Controlled. Like back in his glory days, when he had attained his title. Even Qiren looked at him with slight astonishment.

"Well, surely Zongzhu, you don't expect her to be the Sect Leader. If this were your Heir, we would have a thorough discussion." His voice was mocking, an offhand remark, already dismissing his A-Huan so blatantly, simply due to her sex.

Qingheng-Jun forced himself to stay calm, but Qiren, in his youthful vigor, was already tensed. His eyes screamed a promise of killing as he clutched the baby tighter to himself, as if to protect her from the scrutiny of the world.

"And why not exactly?" Qingheng-Jun questioned, and a stunned silence enveloped the room, not even a gush of air dared to flow past. Qiren, who was busy ripping the head off of Shuheng, the offender, in his mind, had paused to stare at him in disbelief. 

He had warned Qiren earlier. Qingheng-Jun was sick of not having a choice in the matter. This way, the one who truly wanted to remain in power, or rather, the better candidate, could be ensured of Leadership, regardless of sex. The world had witnessed many brilliant female cultivators, Cangse Sanren was arguably the best in their generation, after all, so why such prejudice on Leadership? Lan Xichen will grow into a fine young lady. Even as a baby, she had such spiritual power in that tiny body. She deserved every chance a first son would get at leading her Sect.

But apparently, Qiren hadn't thought he was serious. Yet, one look at him was enough for Qiren to control his expressions back to neutrality. Qingheng-Jun reached for his daughter, the future of Gusu Lan.

"She will have every chance any son of mine will have for the Sect Leadership, and this decision is not up for negotiation."

His voice was clear. Yet immediately, the arguments started. He sighed internally. Did his words hold so little value?

"You are in your prime, Zongzhu. You can always have a son!"

"Since Lan Yi, there had not been a female Sect Leader for nearly a thousand years!!"

"We'll even allow you to twist self-isolation rules, if that is required!!!" 

The last statement had him whipping his head around, his sword already out of his sheath and pinning the idiot who dared to say such blasphemy to the wall by his clothes.

"ALLOW ME?!" His voice was thunderous, the baby in his arms momentarily stopping her coos, her wide eyes staring at him, observing.

"My imprisonment was my decision, you lunatic. I do not require any of your permission to visit my own wife if not. This is my way of paying for my sins. And you?! You DARE insinuate I require YOUR PERMISSION?!" Qingheng-Jun was always known for his mildness and rationality, but the insult was hot enough to burn.

What did they think he was? A fucking plaything which talked, walked, acted as they wished? Goddamn it, he was the LAN ZONGZHU! And he will be treated as such!

A-Huan's tiny fist bumped into his chin. Her eyes were still wide, but not of fear...but of curiosity. When he risked a glance at her, she broke into a soft giggle, clutching his face as much as her tiny hands could, his unshaven beard scratching her palms. Her little hands, it seemed, liked the sensation, as she blabbed happily. Seeing her face, it was impossible to stay angry. He could feel the anger leaving his body rapidly, and the tension of the entire room simmering down, almost visible to the naked eye. If Lan Xichen had this much power as an infant with no clue, how formidable could she become?

He pressed his nose closer to hers, inhaling her sandalwood and jasmine scent, a mixture unique to her, calming himself down.

Besides, Lan Yi was a respected leader for most of her reign. Her only mistake was trying to experiment with Dark Cultivation. That doesn't erase the fact that she was one of our strongest Sect Leaders up to date - credited to expanding the south of Gusu Lan, all by herself." A usually quiet cultivator but undoubtedly wise one, Lan Mingze chipped in. He had been their father's primary advisor.

"That was exactly why it should not be repeated. She fell in love, wanted to help her lover. That was the whole reason she turned against the practices of Gusu Lan. Women can be too emotional in distress; their duty is not to lead but to nurture the Sect!" The opposition was coming in hot.

"And who decided that?" Qiren seemingly had enough. Many arguing voices quieted when he entered the discussion. See, this was why choice was important. Lan Qiren would've made a fine leader had it not been for his own early birth, being the older sibling out of the two.

"This was the lore; we weren't there to say for sure. Rule 1128: Do not believe without careful reason." Qiren reasoned with their principles, the principles that the Elder Council revered as the word of the Gods.

"Whatever the case, Qingheng-Jun can have another- a boy. We do not need to make a political argument over his daughter. She will grow up a fine cultivator and will have authority here at Gusu Lan as the Sect Leader's blood. That is more than enough," Another Elder reasoned, exasperated.

"Who are you to decide what will be enough for her?" His voice wasn't unkind, but the threat was very evident. "If she refuses, any future child, if I am gifted with any, can inherit the Leadership. But until she says it, she will remain the Sect Heir, unless, of course, any other Sect sets a claim on her." The last part he delivered was just to ease the tension. No other Sect had any claims on his baby girl, but several of the Elders shared a look of something he couldn't quite read.

Out of reflex, he clutched A-Huan tighter.

But for now, the tension was marginally dissuaded. None of the Elders truly liked the fact, he could tell. But Qiren seemed contemplative. After all of them left, Qiren sat opposite him.

"You can't let them put her with other Lan maidens." His voice was absolute. "The Sect Leadership and the majority of cultivation skills a Leader practices are exclusive to the male population here. They can use that as a point to discredit her in the future."

Of course, Qingheng-Jun knew. He hoped Qiren had realized the true intent of why he should be Xichen's guardian.

"So, I agree. My niece will grow up with me. I will be her parent in your stead."

Chapter Text

36 years ago

"Shufu!" The sweet voice of his niece brought Qiren out of his musing, and involuntarily, his lips stretched into a paternal smile. Lan Xichen was a hard person not to smile at.

Clad in her tiny robes, almost too long for her body, she was a white ball of energy. Her footsteps weren't even heard with the way she moved like a graceful storm. She really was like Jiejie in that regard.

Without waiting on an invitation, Xichen perched herself on his lap, content to sit with him, and as ever, he indulged her, adjusting his hold on her so she could also peer at his notes.

Despite being only three years old, Xichen was already literate. Yes, many cultivators display more progress than an average child at a young age, but Xichen was far beyond even that. She could read and even write if she focused hard enough. Only a few basic phrases, but Qiren was so immensely proud of her. Besides, her vocabulary was growing by the day. She might be able to read his guilty-pleasure fiction by the time she becomes 6 at this rate.

"A-Huan," He greeted when her tiny fist waved in front of his face, asking, no, demanding, in her own adorable way, his attention, chuckling fondly. Although he was 23 years old, he felt like he had settled into fatherhood already. Considering that, except once a month, A-Huan was forbidden from seeing her parents. Her father, in his self-imprisonment, her mother being punished for her sins. 

The first two years, though, Qiren had battled all of their Sect to have Xichen with Jiejie, stressing on her nourishment, and somehow, won. Xichen was still adjusting to not being in her presence all the time. It had barely been 4 months since then. 

Qiren remembered how the first month was entirely filled with Xichen's heartbreaking cries. Her tiny hands gripping the door to her mother's room, 'The Silent Room', too short to reach the door handle. She was knocking on the door until her tiny hands were completely red, shouting 'A-Niang!' as loud as she could, unable to comprehend that it was not a matter of her mother not hearing her, but being unable to indulge her, forcing her to a distance.

Qiren's anger with the Elders flared so much within the month when all of them, on their way to the council saw this baby screaming for her mother and just 'tsked' at her as she was a minor inconvenience, even having the audacity to ask Qiren to silence her, so that she wouldn't bother the alleged calm proceedings. None of them, maybe except Mingze, who sometimes fisted her a sweet, bothered to give her a second glance, fully content on letting a child, an infant, exhaust herself in the heating sun.

Qiren, throughout the day, was usually away attending Sect Business on his brother Qingheng-Jun's stead. So, almost all the time throughout the month, he was informed of the matter when he was back in Cloud Recess, at varying times of the evening. Which meant that from the hour she got up, at 7 as requested by younglings at their Sect, up until late evening of three hours or four hours past midday, she had been crying, sobbing, asking for her mother's warmth. 

Despite Lan Xichen having an extraordinary golden core for her age, and a high sense of spiritual power as expected from the combination of her parents, she sometimes passed out on the grass - her tiny body exhausted, tears not yet completely dried on her rosy cheeks. The picture broke some piece of Qiren's heart every day when that happened. He had specifically requested her nursemaids to keep an eye on her, to shower her with affection when required, but none were so keen on doing that.

Not until they made sure of the Sect Heirship, having another possibility in the form of a son.

Her existence meant going against 1000 years of culture, of tradition. And Gusu Lan was known for upholding its tradition. The opposition for her was expected, but such animosity...for the sweetest girl ever, was not. 

The treatment of her had not always been as such; she had more care and respect, though reluctantly given, before it was announced that Madam Lan was expecting a baby again. Now, the entire Sect was almost primitive in their prayers of having a son that they had forgotten the Sect Heir named by the Sect Leader himself.

"My nursemaids said to find you, Shufu. Said they have more important matters to at-atte-um....attend-ah-ha to" Xichen babbled, her voice adorable, as she stuttered in her wordings. Qirens' grip on her tightened reflexively. Xichen was only 3, yes, Jiejie was going to give birth very soon, but how could they expect a mere baby to take care of herself?!

"Yes, they're helping your A-Niang with your baby sibling. Besides, my Xichen is so smart now. She can take care of herself, just fine," He said, not realizing who he was placating, himself or the child, as he pressed a small kiss on top of her head.

"Yes, I am. I am going to be the best Jiejie ever!" Her little voice tinged with pride, Xichen beamed at him - her beautiful, child face lit with joy. She really was so pure for this world.

"Of course, you are," He smiled down at her, for the lack of having anything else to say or do. For what was he supposed to say, that this birth may very well decide what her future would be? That, potentially, her own brother, will strip her of her heritage? That she, just like him, will be forced into her siblings' shadow when she grows up? 

Qiren hoped against all hope that his Xichen would be smarter and more successful than he was at navigating that dark tunnel, which was inevitable at this point.

Qiren was waiting outside Jiejie's room, a bouncing, excited Xichens' small hand clutched in his, as every other Elder. The tension was palpable. All except one heart echoed the thoughts of a son. Qiren hoped against all hope for a girl, so his Xichen and this baby would not be pitted against each other, but even more so, he hoped for a healthy child, as what Qingheng-Jun had said to him in his visit before coming here. 

Xichen was clutching her favorite toy, on the other hand, a 'gift' in her words, to her new sibling, so excited to share a piece of her. Xichen had been alone far too much; it made sense for her to want companionship. But even more so, she had a gentle heart, filled with kindness and mercy - a heart apt for a Leader if any of those old baboons cared to see.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, a loud cry pierced the air, and Xichen's small fist clutched his tighter, wide amber eyes looking at him in wonder and slight fear. He knelt and picked her up, her weight not even felt.

"Do not fear, A-Huan, Shufu's here. That was your sibling," He whispered to her softly, rocking her small body. She looked at him like he had the answers to every question in the universe, full of trust and awe. He hoped he could have that expression of hers for himself, just for a little longer, despite the world wanting to prove him wrong time and time again.

"Really?" Her voice was also a whisper, as if adapting to his tranquility, and Qiren had to chuckle. His Xichen was too adorable for her own good at times. 

There were still shouted voices and frantic pacing inside, the baby's voice still loud. But then the door opened.

The nursemaid was grinning so hard, Qiren feared her smile would break her face, as he felt a cold weight settle on his chest.

"IT'S A BOY!!" 

Qirens' head lowered as Xichen also joined in the cheer that went up amongst the Elders, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, grounding himself in the moment and hoping and hoping that the future would not be as dark as his nightmares.

Although the invitation for him to come visit Jiejie was immediately extended, just as it had been with Xichen, this time Qiren waited. Three Years ago, nearly 60 Elders of their Sect were not fighting for a chance to offer congratulations to Madam Lan; they even needed to be reminded of going and visiting her personally, but now, at this moment, there was a brawl over who would get to greet her first.

Xichen was beyond excited, squirming in his hold to go to her mother and the new baby, almost whining 'Shufu! Shufu! Shufu!' in her haste, tugging at his robes to get a move on. But Qiren just clutched her closer to him, softly chastising her to stay put until all the others are done with their jubilation. Jiejie hasn't explicitly invited them in, but in the heat of the birth of a son, no one apparently cared for decorum. The decorum they insist on at all other times - Qiren mused bitterly.

After almost an hour and some, Qiren was allowed to enter in peace, all the others gone to either congratulate Qingheng-Jun himself or to make their amends, or for whatever they had going on in their lives. Qiren felt restless a bit - he had been beyond excited three years ago at this same moment - nervous but immensely joyful, but now, mixed with joy, there was a certain degree of apprehension.

Even Xichen, apparently caught up in his somber mood, for as excited as she had been, now that she was on the ground, she was tugging on the skirt of his robes, uncharacteristically shy to meet the new face, almost hiding. Qiren didn't pause to think how it might mirror the future about to come.

He went inside The Silent Room, Xichen clinging to his side, his arms shaking slightly.

Despite all the differences he saw in himself between now and three years ago, Jiejie, it seemed, hadn't changed.

Just like how she was with Xichen, unable to take her eyes off of her frame, she was much the same here, her attention focused entirely on the bundle in her arms, eyes pouring love, the tear tracks of her exhaustion still present but undermined by the absolute joy in her frame, soothingly cuddling the baby to her chest. 

"You're finally here, Qiren," She remarked, still not taking her eyes off her baby, recognizing him with footsteps alone. 

"He's strong, Fudi - A marvel. Perfect already. Her words were almost reverent, soft and entirely tender, the term of endearment she so rarely used for Qiren making the moment even more unforgettable. Qiren swallowed when he finally got a glimpse of the baby, his little nephew's face.

His eyes were closed, but he resembled Qingheng-Jun more than Jiejie. But he had the same skin tone - soft and pure and white as jade, like Xichen. There was no mistaking that the two were related - they already looked quite similar. His small face was slightly pink from crying so hard, and his small fist was tightly gripping his mother's robes, as if already attached. 

He was adorable and perfect, as Jiejie put it. Despite himself, although he hoped for a girl, Qiren's eyes filled with tears just as they did with Xichen. To hell with politics. His nephew and niece were both precious in their creation.

Xichen, who was walking behind him, suddenly tripped on her too-long robes and bumped her head on the back of his leg, making him immediately reach out for her frame. Her soft 'ah!' broke Jiejie's stupor with her baby to look up instantly.

"A-Huan!" Her already bright eyes brightened even more - if that was even possible - seeing her small daughter. 

"A-Niang," Xichens' voice was timid as she righted herself, her eyes wide, looking at the bundle. She was too little to peer into the face of the baby after all, but she was definitely attempting, walking on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse.

Her adorable frustration made Jiejie laugh softly, fond of Xichen's unexpectedly tender expressions.

"Come here, Sweetheart." She reached for her, adjusting the baby on the other arm, helping Xichen to scramble onto her bed while Qiren stood with secure arms behind her.

"Here is your Didi, A-Huan. You can call him A-Zhan. Her voice was absolute in its softness as she cradled both her daughter and her son to her frame, regardless of her unkempt appearance, just moments after giving birth. But to Qiren, she had never looked so irrevocably happy, content, and she was beautiful then, as never before.

Lan Zhan. His nephew. Pure and Steadfast, Loyal till last breath.

When Qiren met Jiejie's eyes, he knew that the name was her own proclamation, a silent rebellion for her children. Hoping they would grow up loyal to each other, with pure, untarnished love, and find happiness together. And who was Qiren to not oblige a mother's wish?

He sat himself down at the foot of the bed, a respectable distance away from the little family he was not quite a part of, looking at them.

Xichen was peering at the baby now, wonder so plainly written on her face, complete awe. Her small hand poking his even smaller ones. At the poke, his nephew opened his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. Gold.

His eyes were undeniably Gold - a mirror of Qingheng-Jun but even brighter with Jiejie's warmth reflecting inside those orbs. 

"Pretty," Xichen whispered unconsciously, transfixed by the color, and both Qiren and Jiejie let out a huff of amusement at that childish wonder. A-Zhan's annoyance at being woken up faded as his eyes fixed on his tiny older sister, who was now smiling widely at him, her right cheek making what Qiren had dubbed her 'happy dimple' in her candid joy.

Then his fist reached towards her robes, clutching it tight, and he let out a soft coo - a baby's giggle, pleased at the view of her, and Xichen laughed then, bright, her sound echoing. 

Qiren felt a tear roll down his cheek. How innocent, how pure...how naive. Jiejie looked at him then, giving him a soft nod of assurance as if to say, 'Everything will be fine'. But his mind was a minefield at the dark possibilities for these two children in front of him, so filled with joy and hope and love.

But he stayed until it was nearly past midnight. And when they were about to leave - Xichen and he - his Jiejie was already dozing off, too exhausted, and A-Zhan's small fist was clutching A-Huan's robes tighter than his mother's, as if asking her to stay. That ignited some hope within him.

Whatever the future holds for them, they can be a united front, and Qiren will do anything to make it stay that way.

Chapter Text

33 years ago

"Jiejie." That was A-Zhan's favorite word, probably, since he was always saying that. Xichen smiled at her brother, trotting towards her, his forehead ribbon askew, holding two sweets in his teeny-tiny fists. Oh, he had actually taken them from the kitchen! She smiled wider.

"Here," A-Zhan stuck out his hand to her. Xichen thought they would be having that weird tasting milk sweet, the one her brother loved to sip on, but to her surprise, it was her favorite - two mooncakes. Happy, she took hers, patting his head.

"A-Niang?" Lan Zhan knew bigger words, but he spoke very few, unlike her, who wanted to speak all the big words she had learnt, to show that she could use them like Shufu and the rest of the big people - adults, as Shufu told her yesterday. A-Zhan, on the other hand, used one or two words that get his question across. Shufu always asked him to speak in longer sentences, but A-Zhan was stubborn and refused to fix what was easier for him.

Xichen didn't mind. She found it easy, as it would have been, had he used longer words. She understood him just fine. What was the big deal?

"Not today, Wangji." Reminding herself to address him by his courtesy name, Xichen said, knowingly. Her Shufu had told both of them to use each other's courtesy name if it needed to be used in public. Xichen was still getting used to it. He had been her A-Zhan for 3 years already. Change was hard. Besides, it was unfair - she grumbled, privately - A-Zhan- no, Wangji could just call her Jiejie all the time. She didn't use Didi as much. 

"Why?" His golden eyes looked at hers, now sucking on his fingers as his sweet was already over. Xichen pushed his fingers down, breaking half of her cake and giving it to him. Wangji took it without hesitation, knowing that she wouldn't have given him if she didn't want to. 

Wangji always had a bad habit of that, he always used to suck on her fingers when he was- what was it called- teething. Shufu told that her soft fingers were the only thing he liked to sip on, all other things too hard for him, even their A-Niang's fingers. Still, Lan Zhan couldn't handle a lot of spices and had a secret soft spot for any sugary, soft sweets.

"Don't know for sure. Shufu said she is sick." Xichen said, wiping her hands on the napkin she carries with her all the time, and wiping Wangji's hands too, so that he wouldn't get sticky.

"Sick?" His gold eyes were now wide, scared. Xichen smiled, leaning down, adjusting his forehead ribbon as Wangji kept looking at her for answers. She really liked how he always looked at her. She felt important when he did.

Whenever he stumbled on to something he didn't know - which was a lot, he was 3 - the first set of eyes he looked for was hers. At 6, Xichen knew a lot, after all, she thought smugly. She even read some of Shufu's poetry books now. She didn't understand them for sure, but she was still able to read them. So, she liked teaching her brother the things she knew.

"Shufu said it was 'mild'," she said, stressing the word, explaining that it meant 'not serious' when Wangji tilted his head, a habit he had copied from her. 

"One Day," Looking down, Wangji muttered, his small fists tightened, a cute, stubborn frown on his face.

Xichen knew what he meant. They got to meet their mother and their father only once every month. Mothers' day was the third day of the third week, and Father's was the first day of the first week. Other than those days, they didn't get to see either of them.

Sometimes Shufu did sneak them into Mother's room, but it wasn't very often. Whenever either one of them was sick or had a nightmare that was inconsolable, Shufu took them to see their mother. It wasn't so often now, even though Wangji pretended to get scared for several nights to see whether their Shufu would. Lately, Shufu just looked at her, emotions brimming in his eyes but unclear, and asked in his gentle tone he used in private,

'Xichen, look at Wangji for a second, can you?' and Xichen had never denied. If her A-Zhan wanted a mother, although she wasn't as big and strong as their A-Niang, she could try.

"How about this? We'll stay silent today, but tomorrow we can ask Shufu to take us to her when she gets better. Maybe the sickness can be passed. We don't want to get sick, right, Wangji?" She stated, wiping his mouth of the sugar clinging to it. Brightened, Wangji looked at her, nodding his tiny head yes, up and down.

See, she was a good older sister. As long as she was there, Wangji had nothing to be scared of.

31 years ago

Lan Xichen would never admit it out loud, but she, at times, despised how many practice hours she had to put in, in comparison to her friends learning alongside her.

She, like any other official disciple, starting at the age of 7, if they are under regular conditions, gets up at 5 in the morning to begin her day. But usually, others are offered the courtesy of starting their sessions on the 9th hour while she, by herself and her rather strict Shifu, who was never impressed with what she brought to the table, starts at the 7th hour - immediately after a hurried breakfast. By the time her brother got up, she was on her way out, with the usual pat or ruffle of his hair. 

Therefore, by the time the rest of her peers arrived, she was already sweating and red, trying to keep her breaths in check. 

The only positive thing Xichen noticed was her sword, which was gifted to her a year prior on the first day of her training as a cultivator.

Shufu had told her that the sword was made by her father on personal command, the tilt bearing a green jade rather than the usual white, similar to him. Xichen quite easily forgot his face at times, considering that she hardly ever saw him. And lately, even the monthly visits were restricted to her - Wangji still got them - as now she was considered a part of the disciples and unless absolutely necessary, her father was secluded from them. He was in self-imprisonment after all. If not a direct command, the usual disciples didn't get to see him, except his security detail. Other than that, of course, the Elder Council saw him every quarter of the year for consecutive 2-3 days, discussing everything that happened within those 04 moons. 

Xichen was neither his security detail nor an Elder, so she had absolutely no chance unless he or she was on their deathbed.

And to be entirely truthful, she didn't miss him as much either. Any time she had seen him, he had not made a lasting impact on her. The man she remembered was a skeleton with flesh but no soul - his eyes were sunken and his features, once probably quite handsome, were frozen and fuzzy; it was hard to keep track of his face. He was more like those ancestral statues near their Main Pavilion. The only thing she explicitly remembered of him was his golden eyes, because she saw them on her Wangji every day.

Although don't tell her father, Wangji's were much prettier. Her father's looked like those heavy metal pieces that were squashed and burned a hundred times over the past decade, while her brother's was glistening gold like the brightest jewel in place. She much preferred Wangji's eyes to his.

But still, she appreciated the gesture of getting her a sword. She had assumed that she might need to borrow a practice one, because it was typical practice for parents to gift the children with their first sword at Gusu, and she didn't really have that and nor did she think her parents would want to do that. Her Shufu may have - after all, through the years, for every parental tradition he filled in for the roles. A single actor in dual roles.

Besides, her sword was a thing of beauty - the finest material with the finest hilt and the sharpest blade of her class. But in any case, she was used to luxury. Despite not having the man be a father to her, as the children of the Sect Leader, both Wangji and her enjoyed comfort often - new robes, abundant toys, and even pieces of art and materials that usually cost a small fortune, unlike many other kids. But she also knew, both Wangji and she would have given all that up for a single day with all of their family - a single day of delusion to have a perfect little family - a single day to be NORMAL. 

But since she can't have that, this would have to suffice.

She had named her sword the same day she got it. She called it 'Shouye' - longevity and growth. Wangji had liked the name so much and had repeatedly asked her for a sword for himself until she let him play with hers for a bit. She also got her first musical instrument that year - from the Council, which usually saw over the sword/ fighting equipment - 'A clear message' as her Shufu had huffed for what they preferred her priority should be. Despite the origin, she liked the flute well too-naming it 'Liebing' - elegant as cracked ice, a small joke on its head but also a representation of what they thought and wanted her to be. It felt fun to show some snark, although not direct.

Unlike the majority of Lan maidens, her practice wasn't in passive cultivation - or moon-based cultivation, which generally involved tending and working behind the scenes, like healing, medicine, music, and other movements that included fluidity and redirection. Rather than facing oncoming attacks head-on, these techniques survived by directing the force elsewhere, using strength as a mode of distraction. Their movements restricted to upper body agility and fighting styles resembling a series of steps that look so charming and methodical. They even got to learn dancing, pottery, and all other 'maidenly' pursuits. Many of Lan maidens, at the age of 12, were fully equipped to throw, organize, and cater to an entire banquet by themselves, while Xichen... was not.

Yes, she was only 8, but she had never danced once in her life. Not officially. She wished at times she could have been like the rest of the girls. She desperately wanted to. But they didn't like her. After a year of physical training, she was much stronger in her muscles than the average girl her age, dominant in her movements, more assertive, and solid. Most of her friends, therefore, were boys.

Her clothes were gender neutral as well, and the headpieces she used hardly differed from her brother. She also wanted that flowery pattern, the flowing hair at times. All the girls her age looked wonderful. But hers were again solid, clean, and practical.

Sometimes, even she wished she were born a boy, life would've been much easier.

Or that she wasn't her parents' daughter, so she didn't have to care for the future of the Sect every passing moment.

But she didn't and nor was she. She was Lan Xichen, the future of Gusu Lan and her father's heir. It was her right that Wangji despised. Even if not for her, she would do it for Wangji, who hated the position of Sect Leader with burning hatred.

"Again!" Her Shifu insisted, rather demanded, his training crane on her back, adjusting her posture.

She straightened her back and performed the movement again, much more solid this time. Shifu just huffed a breath, not praising her like he would've done with any of the other disciples, moving on to the next. 

Even Xichen knew she was the best there, with the strongest golden core and already able to ride a sword, while her classmates were only beginning to learn. She was also educated in her writing and politics, literature, and poetry, taking precedence in her mind. She was the model Lan, but she still wasn't enough.

Her brief musings were shaken when the crane came down on her back, harsh, not enough to mark, but she was sure her skin was red.

"Attention, Lan Huan," He quipped. Xichen pressed her tongue to the side of her mouth, wanting to stop herself from commenting. She was Xichen. Especially to anyone not in her immediate family.

It was kind of disappointing that the name her mother picked for her with love and genuine pleasure was now used against her, as a way of demeaning her status as a possible Heir, ripping her identity as a worthy candidate. But Xichen was her uncle's choice, and she will fight tooth and nail to be that name.

Without any verbal displeasure, she trained her eyes on Shifu, straightening from her position. Her Shifu was a hard nut to crack. Every day, he did this exact same thing - a pathway to her punishment, but she refused to yield. Yes, she smiled and was kind all the time, but if she dared to be, no one would find a more stubborn mind.

"Get back to your position, Lan Huan!" He ordered now, seeing her defiance. She stood straight still. She refused to answer to anything except Xichen.

"Xichen," She stated, out loud, for the first time. Her eyes not leaving his frame, not unkind but firm. "My name is Lan Xichen, Shifu." 

This was new. She never dared to talk back before. What was happening to her? Was this because of the news of her mother's declining health? A-Niang had been sick for a while, but she recently found out that it was not as 'mild' as Shufu had downplayed.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop in on the conversation; she was just on her way to hand her uncle some of his books that she had borrowed, but found him arguing over a few Elders in fierce whispers.

"Madam Lan can't be saved. Not now. It's better to have the children prepared now, Qiren" a female voice said, stopping Xichen in her tracks, her hands tightening on her scrolls, almost pushing her to the wall with the shock of her words. She felt her breath coming in short wisps of air.

"Then let her out. Your Elder Council had made the poor woman suffer enough for one crime. We may still be able to find a healer elsewhere," Her Uncle whispered back, his voice genuinely exhausted. She could imagine him rubbing his temples with that tired frown he accompanied more than necessary.

"One crime?!" A louder voice, iterated, mock evident in the tone.

"Yes, Shuheng-Xiong." Oh, golly, that louder voice was her Shifu then. The man who would always view Xichen as beneath her male counterparts. 

"She paid the price enough. What good was being 'Madam Lan' to her? Just a namesake title. No duties, no authority. She doesn't even have the right to her own children as the average woman. The punishment had run its due." Her Shufu repeated more firmly.

"We understand that you have grown fond of the woman, Qiren. But she wasn't the one suffering the brunt of imprisonment all these years. We did allow her rights. She was free to meet and discuss. She wasn't in isolation," the female voice placated.

Her A-Niang wasn't? Xichen always thought she was, for all they got to see of her was once every month.

"Free? She was to be kept strictly away from the primary family - her family, might I add. What good was 'free' to her, Xiaoling-Nushi?" Her Shufu argued back, his voice getting heated. "She doesn't get the one thing she desperately wants, and let us be honest, none of the rest of the disciples are in any hurry to meet or greet her. She, if she wanted to go out, could only step out when the primary family was not in the vicinity, which means the dead of night. And where could she go then?!"

Her Shufu's voice was now agitated, and the silence enveloped the room.

"The punishment may not have been imprisonment in writing, but we all know it was that in not-so-many words." More resigned, he concluded.

"We never wished ill on Madam Lan or Qingheng-Jun, Qiren. You know this," Another, calmer voice said. "But these were the rules, our practices. Going against it just meant making them more vulnerable. The only other alternative was death, and you know it."

"Madam Lan would've welcomed that if she had seen what was to be her future," Her uncle said.

Xichen was swaying now. What happened? What was all this? She knew that her mother's smile didn't reach her face most of the time. Just superficial. But was she truly so unhappy to contemplate death? Even with Wangji and her? 

Xichen imagined herself in her A-Niang's shoes then. It was unbearably lonely. Perhaps, she was justified in feeling that way.

But it didn't stop the feeling of sorrow and despair filling her chest - feeling unwanted, unneeded again. Helpless. She wanted Wangji. He always said that he needed her, he wanted her to stay, he liked her best. She wanted her brother.

"We couldn't do more than that to a murderer, Qiren." 

And she dropped the scrolls. She didn't intend to, but her hands were shaking.

Murderer?! Her A-Niang? The sweetest, most gentle woman she had ever known?

The sound of scrolls scattering echoed through the halls, and hushed whispers inside her Uncle's room dropped dead. Xichen vaguely registered footsteps of people getting up there, probably to investigate, but she wasn't sure. Everything was blurred.

Not knowing what else to do, she ran away to her room, where Wangji was drawing something with a happy expression. His eyes alight, but the moment he saw her, they dimmed. She wanted to cry. 

Wangji got up quickly, almost losing his balance with how fast he did, eyes wide, arms stretched to reach for her. She let herself walk into them, an embrace he hardly offered and never to anyone but her thus far.

"Jiejie?" His voice was a question as he reached up on his tip toes to touch her face.

Oh, she thought she wanted to cry, but she had been already, hadn't she? Xichen mused, finally feeling the wetness on her cheeks.

"I'm fine, A-Zhan." The affectionate name slipped without a prompt, and Wangji's eyes widened even more. "Jiejie is okay. I just missed you." Not knowing what else to say, she sprouted a half-truth. It was true, Wangji was the only one she needed then.

Her brother, in spite of his 5 years, was quite intelligent. His golden eyes surveyed her without a word. But he probably read the discomfort in her frame just as fast as he allowed his lips to quirk up, channeling an air of deceiving happiness. Xichen felt fond of him for trying to appear happy for her.

He directed her to the drawing. It was the two of them. The features were not defined, just two shadows. But she knew it was them, even without Wangji's whispered 'Us'.

'At least she had him. Even if the entire world wasn't there, she had her brother. She always will.' She thought as she drew him closer, pressing a kiss to his head, and Wangji, bless his little heart, wrapped his own arms around her waist, providing warmth to the coldness within her. 

Yes, this was enough. It had to be.

"You dare talk back?" Her Shifu was glowering now. He was a good teacher, she wouldn't deny, but his temperament was certainly not adequate.

Wisely, she kept her silence, still refusing to turn her eyes downcast. 

"Such insolence, Lan Xichen," She heard him mutter. At least he finally addressed her by her courtesy name. "After you finish running drills for the next two hours, kneel inside the punishment chamber and repeat the rules 128, 345, 1009, each 150 times."

Rule 128: Teachers' wish should be respected and carried through.
Rule 345: Disobedience without reason should not be validated.
Rule 1009: Modesty and Humility should be practiced.

Xichen scoffed inside her mind. Shouldn't her Shifu be doing some scribbling on his own? Like Rule 89, for example - Respecting the wishes of others over their own paradigm. Force was one thing Lan disciples were always advised to avoid - iteratively telling that they do not have agency over the choices of others without reason. But still, apparently, there were many loopholes.

Therefore, her Shufu found her that evening with smudged hands and a bleeding knee. He didn't say anything, but his look was enough for Xichen. He didn't like rule breakers, but he didn't like mindless adherents even more so. There was a quiet pride in those dark eyes for her, for the fact that she stood up for herself.

When they were about to leave, she heard Shifu and Shufu exchange a few words.

"I know you view me as an enemy here, Qiren," her Shifu started. "Angry at me for pushing your precious niece excessively hard. Even Qingheng-Jun made an official complaint after your words last time, when her hands were cut open after handling the blade too much, and her spiritual energy was unfocused. But this is real life. Life for Xichen was going to be much harder outside the walls of Cloud Recess. She will consistently be tested and challenged, made to prove her worth as a woman in a man's world. She needs to bear all that and more when the time comes."

Lan Qiren looked inquisitive at that statement. Her Uncle didn't like Shuheng Shifu. That was almost common knowledge.

"I thought you held no affection for 'Lan-guaniang.'" His voice was curious and slightly mocking. Lan-guaniang was how she was called in public, but it was weaponized even more so in the Elder Council to emphasize, she wasn't enough.

"I don't, or I thought I didn't. But I may have judged too harsh, Qiren. I admit that. She is formidable, but still, that won't be enough. She needs to be the best." His voice visibly surprised her Uncle, given the little 'o' that formed with his lips. Her Shifu laughed at that.

"What, Qiren? As Lans, we should be able to admit when we are wrong. It is a rule, after all. And I admit I have erred. Xichen deserves every chance a male heir would have gotten. But that takes time to understand by the public, like how we did at the Elder Council. Until she is properly seen, Xichen needs to survive. I am just trying to make her strong enough for that. She can prove her worth by herself." His voice was kinder than she had ever heard before. Comically, the surprise on her Shufu's face kept increasing.

"Close your mouth, Shidi. Xichen is my best student, after all. I, as her teacher, am merely looking after her. With a single index finger closing her Uncle's dropped jaw, her Shifu turned to her, allowing a real smile to slip into his face, knowing that she had heard every word.

Xichen found herself smiling back, her happy dimple that Wangji loved to poke in, appearing on her right cheek. 

Maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought she was. Maybe she had allies, after all.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

Lan Xichen was never delusional. She was always practical and rational. So, she was suffering under no false optimism that just because Shuheng Shifu had come to begrudgingly respect her and stand by her, that only tallied up to 2 people inside the Elder Council who were absolutely loyal to Xichen. Yes, Shuheng Shifu had been a very strong opposition, but just him next to her was not going to garner any real change here. At only 8, this wasn't something she should've understood, but she did.

Why? Oh, because she had never been a child. Not wholly. Not completely. Which only heightened with Wangji's arrival.

So, that was why her training doubled from the moment that the news of the 'Annual Sect Advancement Festival' was to be hosted in Cloud Recess arrived. She was still among the novel juniors, but each grade sent their best to showcase the talents of each Sect, especially, five primary Sects. The other Sects, as boastful as it might be admitting to it, didn't really hold much face value. Xichen had seen some disciples who came to Cloud Recess for their mandatory education being defeated by the weakest in her class, since the weakest in any of the primary Sects was not weak at all in the actual cultivation world.

Her Shufu and both Shifu had drilled into her that this might be a good opportunity to grab, and showcase, and prove herself to the rest of her Sect. The majority of the Elder Council was not necessarily opposing her with vehemence now, but the majority still thought that putting her on the Leadership Chair was an unnecessary risk. Xichen could understand to some extent.

Her mother wasn't born a Lan - she became Madam Lan after marriage. And there were so many like that. It was customary for a married woman to adapt into the Sect of her husband. It wasn't a rule, but it was a practice, like everything else in the man's world that Xichen was gearing up to challenge.

She would be lying if she proclaimed she wanted a marriage. Seeing her parents' wreck of a union, marriage was at the last of her itinerary. But perhaps, one day she would want to, and then what would her decision be? - That was the main question of the Elders.

If they bothered to ask, she would've told them already. She won't change her name. Nor would she denounce herself. Her intended, whoever it was, would be welcome to join hers, but she would never entertain the concept vice versa. That meant leaving Gusu Lan behind, leaving the 'Lan Xichen' she fought for behind, and most importantly, Wangji, behind. She would never make her peace with that.

Besides, it wasn't likely that she would marry anybody with a higher rank than her own. If the Elder Council acknowledged her Heirship, this conversation would be nullified from that moment. It was honestly pointless, considering their problems and effect was their own creation. They were the ones refusing her birthright, and they were the ones also panicking for that refusal. It didn't make much sense. But Xichen knew how to pick her battles. Entertaining baseless arguments was a waste of her time...or Shufu had said.

She was still 8, she nodded along to his words, but she wasn't sure what she was nodding along to.

The rest of the world wasn't privy to her parents' crumbling marriage either, so for the first time since forever, (It was 10 years - it was only after ten years that Gusu Lan had the opportunity to hold the Festival again. Her father, 10 years ago, had been a fresh Zongzhu - barely a few years into Leadership. That was the year all of it had gone straight to hell with his reckless union.) Her father was to be seen by the public. Xichen had not seen him in a year. Though she won't admit to it, she was excited to show him her skills as well. Uncle had told her that Qingheng-Jun had been the best of Lan disciples in his youth - perhaps she could show him that she was too.

But that was all she wanted to show him. Her Uncle had asked whether she would like to have tea with him, but she had refused. What were they to discuss? She didn't know the man, nor did he know her.

Still, participating as a representation of the Sect was an honor, the greatest privilege for a young disciple. If they chose according to the performance thus far, Xichen would be the obvious choice, but they were already debating it over apparently because - news alert- she thought sardonically, she was a girl. The rest of the competitors for her age group, nearly a 100 of them - Novel disciples - from ages of 7 - 12, were all boys.

Amongst them were the respective heirs of Lanling Jin - Jin Zixuan and Qinghe Nie - Nie Mingjue. Qishan Wen's Sect Heir was already past the age and would probably compete in the Intermediary or Senior Category, and the Sect Heir of Yunmeng Jiang was Wangji's age. Xichen was even more motivated due to that fact, perhaps, because as of lately, Jiang Fengmian's choosing his son over his daughter to lead the Sect was taken as a defense by the Elder Council more often than not. Showing that his choice was sustainable and long-term, as if children were some energy source they had a risk of running out of.

The real reason for that choice wasn't sexism as her Shufu had revealed once, putting her hair up in a very masculine updo after an entire day with the Elder Council. Jiang Fengmian's eldest, a daughter by the name Jiang Yanli- a year her own senior- had a poor golden core. She has had a rather long and complicated birth, and her spiritual energy had been low from the start, for a Sect Heir. 

As the promise of the future of a Sect, even if not the best, the Sect Heir should be among the three most successful cultivators of that Sect in his/ her generation. Yanli's golden core was definitely not going to allow that. She was in no way bad per se, but she was physically restricted. If not, Jiang Fengmian would have been all the happier to sire her as his Heir.

After all, his wife, Yu Ziyuan, was reportedly of a higher cultivation skill than his own. And it was fresh in murmur that she was the real authority of Lotus Pier. The scarce times Xichen had glimpsed at them on their occasional visits - she still wasn't formally introduced as the Sect Heir to the public as of yet - of course, everyone knew, but there had not been any formal introduction - they had always walked side by side, showing an equal footing. Jiang Fengmian never talked her down - they were equal leaders of their Sect. Yu Ziyuan was even introduced as the Sect Lady, Yu Ziyuan not as the typical naming of - The wife of Sect Leader, Madam Jiang. Xichen respected them for it. A lot.

Maybe she'll get to speak with them officially. She'll say her thoughts then. 

All that was to say that asking for a male representation can be valid on one end, but also abysmal on another. If every Sect Heir of age was competing, why shouldn't she? Most of her Elders said that many cultivators would deem it unfit for a single maiden to be amongst a large group of boys, but that was exactly why it was needed, in Xichen's opinion. So they could see for themselves. Regardless of gender, talent and skill remain unchanged.

So, with a week to go for the festival, she, without any prompting from her teacher, had increased her own practice hours, and this day was to be the last before the festival.

Because she was so often late to be home, Wangji had adapted to come sit on the sidelines of their combat arena. Looking at her, watching her, and if he was exhausted, napping right there, snuggled into one of her discarded robes. That was the real reason for his visits, that little fox, she thought fondly. He liked to cuddle, but nobody would believe her because even as a child of mere 5 years, Wangji was aloof and exuded an air of 'Stay Away' to any wandering eyes. But if they had any common knowledge to smell his scent, they would realize how soft the boy was despite the hard exterior. Although originally her smell, Jasmine and Sandalwood, now the scent of Sandalwood was more prominent in him than hers.

"You're going to exhaust yourself, Shimei," One of their kinder disciples said, gently taking her practice sword away from her red and throbbing hands. She vaguely noted the callouses there and some skin peeled off, with bloody gashes. She could easily heal them, though. She still had more ammunition to go on.

"I am well, Shixiong." Smiling brightly, Xichen said, even as she could feel the sweat clinging to her, her hair stuck to her nape. The older disciple, Lan Ruiwen, if she wasn't mistaken, the best in the Intermediary grade at 15 years, laughed, patting her head.

"You're strong already, Shimei. If the Elder Council bars you from participating, we'll start a riot. I won't participate either, and so won't Yichen-ge." With a conspiratory wink, he added, leaning down to her level. Lan Yichen was the oldest representative from the Senior Grade at 18 years old. He was Ruiwen-xiong's brother and had the opposite personality of his, his face always in a perpetual state of distress as if he were waiting for the universe to collapse at any given moment. Ruiwen-Xiong on the other hand...Xichen looked at the boy who was trying to balance her practice sword on two of his fingers and failing. Well, enough said.

"There's no need, Shixiong. Tomorrow, I'll defeat whoever they assign to me to show my skill. Then they'll have to accept it." With an ambitious glint and a promise of victory in her eyes, Xichen concluded. Ruiwen-Xiong looked mildly impressed.

"What if it's Yichen-ge?" His voice was humorous, but Xichen would be lying if that possibility didn't cross her mind. At the state of her alleged luck, the Elder Council may very well match her with the current strongest junior cultivator.

Xichen was suffering no delusions that she was any match for Yichen-Xiong. They had a difference of 10 years in experience alone, and she was still learning the techniques. He was already done and was about to be officially declared as a Senior disciple at the Festival - done with his education and a fully-fledged cultivator. It was deeply unfair to pit them against each other, but well, Xichen's entire life was injustice, so why wouldn't this be?

"Jiejie will win." Wangji's small voice sounded behind her, his small fist clutching her robes as he glared at their Shixiong. He really was too much at times, Xichen thought, trying to bite back the smile threatening to escape her lips, putting an arm around him as Wangji, subconsciously, leant in for her warmth. See, he was like a baby rabbit at times! - She was on the dangerous edge of giggling.

Ruiwen-Xiong's expression matched hers in keeping his smile hidden because what else can she expect? This tiny child with the most adorable frown and all the ferocity of a quacking duck, was threatening someone thrice his age in an almost impossible situation. Her Wangji was cute, at times.

"Oh, I'm sure, Shidi." Pinching Wangji's cheek, Ruiwen-Xiong entertained his proclamation with fondness, but Wangji pressed himself more into her side, escaping his hands. Noting his dislike, Ruiwen-Xiong took away his hands.

"I don't know what might happen, Shimei, but you need rest now. No matter who the competition for you would be tomorrow, a rested mind is better than an exhausted one. So run along, now. I'll arrange the arena and leave," He said, patting her head another time. Xichen liked him, and the majority of the disciples who were learning with her. They had grown to respect and care for her just like any other, as she had for them. It was the Elders who were the issue. Because, apparently, they've seen too much.

"Besides, your brother seems to be napping while standing." With a smile, Ruiwen-Xiong concluded, and she turned her down. Indeed, Wangji's eyes were drooping; it was way past the ninth hour after all. Fondly, she rubbed her hand on his back, and Wangji nestled into her even more, both his small hands clutching her robes tightly.

"Do you want me to carry him, Xichen?" Ruiwen-Xiong offered. But she declined the invitation. Wangji was very particular with touch-free reigns only extending to her, their A-niang, and Shufu. If Wangji wakes up on the way, he would be upset.

"No need, Shixiong. I can carry him," Xichen replied, bowing to him who bowed back to her. Another thing with her contemporary disciples, they had already accepted her future leadership. 

It was not as easy to carry a five-year-old old though. Wangji was tall for his age. But after some navigation, she was able to pick him up. Then, maintaining her facial expressions so her Shixiong wouldn't read her discomfort - she didn't want to appear weak- she went off, adjusting her hold on Wangji every five minutes. Despite it being a hassle, she was only too happy to have her brother in her arms. And evidently so was he, as he was almost purring in his sleep, nuzzling into the side of her neck.

Finally, her smile escaped, forming that rare 'happy dimple'. 

Xichen didn't understand why everybody looked shell-shocked; she wasn't one bit, even as she felt numb inside.

It was no surprise, nothing out of the pattern, carefully crafted for her, forced into obedience. This was the same Elder Council that refused to address her as Sect Heir, postponing her official introduction as much as they could. Made her recite poetry of nearly 360 pages just to pass her exams in the first year, when the standard was only 1/3 of it. Forced her to practice harder, given her obvious disadvantage of lacking raw strength. They had done everything in their capacity to make sure she failed, but she had risen to every unnecessarily excruciating bar they set out.

But this time, they had doubled down on the level impossible, it seems. She mused, watching her Shufu standing up to the Council yet again on her behalf, his face red. While her father, the blood one, stood behind his translucent screen - still maintaining propriety of not seeing by the public as technicalities of his imprisonment - his posture was straight and the same as it was before the announcement. She briefly wondered whether the esteemed Qingheng-Jun viewed her as she did him. A recognition of a blood familiarity that tied them, but nothing more, nothing less.

No matter. She never expected any help from him anyways.

"This is absurd!!! Yichen is the strongest cultivator of his age inside Cloud Recess - one of the best, even amongst the Primary Sects. He is experienced way beyond Xichen!" Her Shufu was arguing heatedly.

"Not to mention that she is all but 8 years in age. She has approximately one year of combat practice and cultivation teachings under her belt! How can you expect a fair fight amongst two opponents so unevenly matched?!" Her Shifu was also standing now, his eyes burning in outrage. Shuheng-Shifu may have opposed her before, but even then, he made sure of even playgrounds. He had never pitched her up for impossible scenarios such as this, where her loss was so plainly written. Yes, he was hard on her, but to the degree that if she pushed herself enough, she would reach the bar he had settled on.

But still, Xichen kept her own face composed. She figured this might've happened. She was used to calculating worst-case scenarios given the 'splendid' luck she had had from life. But just because she calculated, it didn't mean she was ready. 

Even with all her strategies, she didn't see a single possibility where she might emerge victorious in this battle. But she won't let them see that. If they are pushing her for impossible, for inevitable defeat, she will damn well make sure they don't see it in her face.

Next to her, kneeling as she was in front of the Council for the verdict, was Yichen-Xiong. His face was stone cold, but his fists were tightened in his robes. He didn't see this as fair - he never wanted to hurt anybody unnecessarily, especially not Xichen. He was the first disciple his age who had come to view her as one of their own from the get-go. But this choice was taken from him just as much as it was taken from hers.

"Why, Shuheng-Xiong? Didn't you say she was your best student? You taught Yichen once, remember? If she is your best, why the agitation?" Xichen and every Lan in the audience could hear the plain mockery in that voice. She could see Ruiwen-Xiong scoffing at that remark from the sidelines.

"I did, and I won't deny that. But it was clearly proportionate to the talent and skill she has acquired in respect to her age. I expected it to be obvious to anyone with reason." Landing the heavy insult, her Shifu snapped. Some of the disciples, muffling their giggles, seeing the face of the Elder, who was offended. Even Yichen-Xiong's eyes brightened in mirth. Xichen forced herself to be impassive.

"This was a collective decision by the Council," sidestepping, another Elder iterated. "Xichen is going to be among a pack of hyenas-" He started, but her Shufu immediately interrupted.

"What do you mean by hyenas? She's going to be among the most novel group of young disciples. Sure, they might be strong, but that is again, RESPECTIVE to the age. His clear emphasis on the word had the opposition reeling.

Regardless, this is the condition. Xichen defeats Yichen, and she gets to compete. We'll even add the fact of her official introduction to be at the Festival if she does - cementing the impact of the statement" More tactful Elder tried to reason, but her Sjufu got up, in his anger, toppling the meal laid out to him.

"Do not bargain on her heritage now. You're all being exceedingly unjust. Is this the lesson you want to give to the youngsters?!" His voice was thundering. Xichen briefly glanced at her father. He was still, stiff as a statue.

"Why don't we ask the competitors then?" Another Elder suggested, with a sinister smirk on his face. Everybody and their grandmother knew that if Xichen rejected the duel, she was done for. A moment of admitted defeat, in her own words, no less. 

Upon the pavilion, her Shufu was on the verge of his patience. His hands were already clutching his sword. When his eyes were trained on her, though, she saw his own powerlessness there. Silently apologizing for not being able to protect her without compromising her. Xichen allowed herself a smile. He had done all he could while the man who had the real authority...she turned her face yet again to Qingheng-Jun, who hadn't changed from his posture. Well, enough said.

"What do you say, Lan Xichen?" The Elder probed. She just placed her amber eyes on him, not answering. Silence was her only form of conversation. What was she to say? She can't in good conscience accept the duel, if fought with all his might, Yichen-Xiong could easily leave lasting damage. But nor can she deny. She will not give them that satisfaction of pretending they allowed her a choice. 

Her gaze was apparently too much for the Elder, the silent accusation, as his head turned down.

Another Elder picked up from where he left off.

"And Yichen? What do you say?" Xichen realized that the man was Yichen-Xiong's father. His eyes expressed more than he let on. Even if Xichen couldn't read it, Yichen-Xiong clearly could, as his eyes hardened yet again in an almost glare. His eyes snapped to hers, assessing and kind. She didn't escape the gaze. Then he got up.

"I refuse." 

Those two words were a ripple effect. Disciples gasped in unison, some bold ones even applauding his choice. It wasn't hard to idolize Yichen-Xiong. He was the perfect cultivator. Ruiwen-Xiong was smirking openly at his brother's choice.

"Reasoning?" Although the disciples were that way, the Elders clearly weren't an easy crowd to dissuade. 

"Xichen Shimei is an impressionable disciple for her age. She, as Shifu had remarked, is the best in her category. She should not be hindered because she is Qingheng-Jun's daughter," Wisely keeping the lineage out of the wordings, Yichen-Xiong assessed.

"Whatever her golden core's power or how high her cultivation skill could be, she is only a novel disciple. And none of us here are suffering under any delusions of a supposed victory from her. She is too young. I am literally more than twice her age with a decade more of experience. This is injustice, Elder Council." He politely rebuked, keeping his head up high.

Her Shufu looked proud of Yichen-Xiong, and so did Shifu. He really was one of the best Lans. Xichen allowed him to see the gratefulness in her eyes when he looked at her, making her stand next to him. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"And Xichen, any words on your end?" An Elder asked her again, wanting her to agree to his statements, but particularly in admission of her weakness. But unfortunately for them, she started studying politics as soon as she began to read. 

"His reasoning is sound, Elder Council. I do not wish to disagree." 

There, have fun with that ambiguity. With a victorious glint, she saw the Elder who asked her the question turning red in anger. She heard a few snorts throughout the audience. Her Shufu's angry frown melted into a grin, and her Shifu raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.

"What if we don't make it a proper match?" Yichen-Xiong's father piqued up, making him turn to him sharply. The father and son had an entire conversation with glaring eyes alone, but then, Yichen-Xiong huffed out a breath. A clear tell of his frustration. Oh, no, he had lost whatever debate he had with his father.

"What do you suggest?" All too eager to get back at Xichen, the Elder, who unintentionally got humbled by her, jumped in with his question. She might have to cross blades with Yichen-Xiong one way or the other, it seemed.

"She is young and fragile." Xichen tried not to frown at the choice of words, even as she saw Wangji glaring at the man to death from the sidelines, her practice sword clutched in his hands. They were always pale, but it was as white as the hilt just then.

"So, how about testing her endurance? If she can take 20 hits from Yichen, she will be entitled to whatever she requires." 

Funny, how she always had to do something to get anything in return - proving herself was becoming a habitual practice to her. And what was that suggestion? It felt merciful to just fight at that point. 

Yichen-Xiong was quite powerful. Even some Elders barely survived 10 of his hits, not because he had undeniable physical strength (he was quite strong, though) but because he knew exactly when and where to hit. His nickname in the cultivation world was 'Mizhen' - Hidden Needle - for how accurate he was at exploiting the weak points in others' frame, grit, and even will at times. Even if not, his hits were hard and rough. Xichen may have been defeated with three in the actual fight.

An exclamation of outrage was heard at the suggestion. Yichen-xiong was seething silently. Deadly eyes trained on his father. It was no secret that the man desired power. He was the first cousin of her father. So if Xichen was declared unsuitable and Wangji refused her seat in Leadership, considering her uncle had no children of his own, the Sect Leadership would obviously fall into his family. It was not invisible to anyone, but they were selective with what they wanted to hear at the moment. Right now, their top priority was to make Xichen lose all her credibility.

"You speak as if you, yourself, could contain 20 of Yichen's hits!" Her Shifu, now completely irritated, snapped at the man. "Even amongst you, there are people who have been defeated by the boy. How dare you suggest such a thing?!"

"It is within the rules - a test of endurance can be put forward in the case of an unfair fight. Is it not?" The man was smug. It was not often Xichen felt like hitting someone intentionally, but this was pretty close. 

"Besides, Qingheng-Jun may decide. What do you say, Zongzhu?" Putting her father in an impossible position, the man asked. Her father was facing the same turmoil she was. If he declined, he would be undermining the power of the primary family, but if he accepted, he may very well be doing just the same, since it was infinite chances of Xichen's inevitable defeat. But at least accepting the challenge would be slightly better, since it wasn't cowardice.

Xichen looked at him, wondering whether he would choose her safety or his pride. But as ever, he was silent. She felt frustration within her as she vowed silently to herself that she would never be that passive in leadership.

"I accept." Her voice rang out, and the entire audience was silenced.

What? If she were going down anyway, she'll do it with dignity.

"XICHEN!" As expected, the reaction was immediate. For the first time in her life, Shufu looked at her with fire in his eyes, but Xichen knew it wasn't fury. No, it was deep concern. She had accepted a challenge that he couldn't shield her from, and embarked on a task where she was so completely singular. It hurt him to see her that helpless. Hoping to mitigate at least some of that fear, Xichen directed him a small upturn of lips, hopefully conveying the message that 'it would be fine'.

Though she didn't believe it. Her fists had tightened, her nails digging into the palm, keeping them from shaking. Gods, she was scared.

Yichen-Xiong, next to her, looked like someone had punched him in the face, his usually indifferent features completely distorted. His wide eyes were looking at her as if she had just walked into her death. It was an apt metaphor, she presumed. The disciples all around them were also murmuring, moving with urgency. Many of her classmates had a hand covering their mouths, hiding their shocked gasps. Wangji, standing beside Ruiwen-Xiong, looked the worst. His entire frame was now ghostly white as his hands that were clutching her sword. Even her Shifu was shaking his head in dismay - his worry seeping into every action.

Yet, despite her own fear, she saw the reaction her statement had gotten from the 'prestigious' Elder Council. They were petrified - all wide eyes and open mouths. That reaction almost made everything worth it. Almost.

Vaguely, she heard her Shufu arguing again that despite her consent, they can't in good conscience take her words as literal, that it was brutal to subject her to this, but he was restricted. She knew enough that in spite of his love and care and protection for her, her uncle was still a Lan. He wouldn't dare cross the threshold of the sacred arena after the challenge was accepted. Perhaps not out of respect but out of necessity, for his own actions now reflected on her as her legal guardian, as the person who was siring the Sect Heir in all but blood.

At that mention, she looked up. Oh, finally! Her father had leant forward, changing his resting posture. She wasn't aware whether it was care or interest. She didn't care to know.

Finally coming out of his shock, Yichen-Xiong assessed her. His eyes were full of apology as he tried to communicate to her to drop the act and take her words back. But that meant catastrophe. Xichen would rather bleed to death than admit defeat or surrender to those pompous bloodhounds they revered as the 'Elder Council'.

She walked slowly towards Wangji, taking the assertive first step, leaving Yichen-Xiong with nothing but to follow her movements, going for his own practice sword.

Wangji's eyes were large, staring at her, fear so plainly written. His cheeks had lost all their blush from how pale he was.

"Jiejie will be fine, Wangji," She said, keeping the tremor from her voice even as her hands shook when taking the blade. Wangji clearly did notice, but he was resilient, just like her. When his eyes met hers again, they were hard.

"Jiejie will win," an echo of a previous statement, still as absolute despite the slight shaking. Xichen smiled with her 'happy dimple', allowing him a moment of preciousness for his faith in her despite the catastrophic scenario.

Wangji tried to smile too for his credit, but it came out as a grimace.

Shedding her outer layer, she took the sword, assuming a defensive position, as she witnessed Yichen-xiong, still deeply in conversation with Ruiwen-Xiong, both looking at her. Then, after a few seconds, his position mirrored hers.

Everybody waited with bated breath - nobody daring to call out the start. 

Fine, then. Xichen will do it herself. She just wanted to get this over with. 

"Begin!" her voice rang through the arena a second time.

They began circling each other - her mind immediately zeroing in on his footwork. She didn't know much, but she knew the basics of combat. 

"Shimei, please. Don't do this. I don't want to hurt you." Keeping a distance he normally would not have kept this long into the fight, Yichen-Xiong urged her, letting their blades cross when she advanced. His movements were almost secondary to him. It was clear her parry didn't need to employ any of his mental faculties to deflect. That's how trained he was - how instinctual a fight was to him.

"Don't." Gritting her teeth, she retaliated, their blades crossing a second time, his easily blocking it. His actions were so precise and habitual that fear started blooming in her chest. If this was him, not even paying attention to her supposed 'attacks', how well was he truly? But she quickly dissuaded the thought. Fear had no place in the arena.

"Xichen, listen to me." Forcing her to a deadlock, Yichen-Xiong whispered frantically. "We'll find another way. Ruiwen already suggested not partaking in our respective categories. They can't keep all of us restrained." 

"Do you think they don't have other 'options'?" Struggling to get out of the deadlock with all her might, Xichen whispered back, frustrated. She already thought through that option. They would just replace all three. She was not keen on making two other people she cared for lose their rightful places for her. At the same time, her mind focused on her struggle. He wasn't even using his full strength. Will she survive this ordeal enough to complete it by the end of this?

"Then another way, Xichen. Don't make me compromise my integrity as a Lan disciple for you," Finally pushed back, Yichen-Xiong said, parrying her blow with a single flick of her wrist.

"Who asked you to?" It was a written rule in their Sect not to allow favoritism in their fights. If Yichen-Xiong went easy on her, that would break his integrity.

"I can take it. Don't demean yourself, Shixiong. And don't you dare do it in my name."

Xichen was now appropriately furious, so the next blow she delivered landed, making an impact on his upper arm. It was chance, she knew it just as much as he did. But it gave him pause.

Then he looked at her, seeing her completely. Fear laced with determination, and nodded, as if to say 'I see you and I respect that', his way of easing into the fight. Xichen nodded back, preparing her defenses for the worst.

The next blow had her flying back a few meters, falling to the ground. Well, that was how strong he was then, when he tried. Already coughing from his blow to her chest, she reasoned, slowly got up on her legs.

She briefly thanked whatever deity out there that this was a practice fight, which meant practice swords. If not, she really might have bled to death.

Controlling her breathing as she concentrated on the few practices of qi she was prone to, she forced herself to a defense stance, even as her vision started to blur. Goddamn, it! Did it really take only one blow?!

Seeing her back on her feet, Shixiong advanced again, a graceful blur of white and blue as he soared towards her. Their blades clashed, his movements too fast to calculate, landing hits on her unprepared frame even as she tried to block him as much as she could. In rapid succession, his sword hit the front of her forehead, her chest, and her abdomen, classic weak points, and she reeled. With one final hit on her back, that sent her toppling straight to the ground, the attack stopped. 

It hurt. Oh, Gods, it hurt!

Trying to fight the blackness creeping in on her vision, her free hand went to her abdomen. The hit was indeed hard, as expected. She briefly wondered if she was already bleeding internally for stars to dance in her vision at the briefest touch. There, it was. The 'Mizhen' strike.

Clutching her sword with uncontrollable limbs, she tried to get up. The sword slipped from her grip twice before it stood straight to provide her enough support to get back on her feet. Slightly hunched, she extended the sword again.

She barely saw the next attack through the haze, his rapid blade hitting her wrists and pressure points in seconds, one particular hard hit on her shoulder blade making her bite her lip so hard, she tasted copper inside her mouth. Oh, blood.

And she fell on her knees, the impact probably injuring both kneecaps with how hard it was, the sword flung a few feet away.

Absentmindedly, she registered voices, a lot of them. It was largely white noise in her already ringing ears, but she was pretty sure someone shouted 'STOP!'

Crawling to her sword in a probably less than dignified way, she struggled again to get up on her feet. Her robes, at the knees, looked red, travelling downwards. She had never seen her own robes that messy or untarnished before.

Her sword was extended yet again.

Next time, she genuinely didn't see him, the gut-wrenching pain in her abdomen being the only tell-tale sign that her opponent was there. Her coughing started again as she swayed, barely keeping her balance and not fainting outright. When she wiped her mouth, the back of her palm had red streaks. Why was everything red?

She obscurely recalled it was the fourth hit - the better part of her brain, overriding the pained disorientation for a second.

She shook her head. Focus, Xichen! 

Then she extended the sword arm again, crookedly, in the direction she assumed her Shixiong was in.

She was clearly wrong. She felt a sharp smack - the pain not registering immediately, because every inch of her was already in excruciating agony, and she fell face first onto the floor, bumping her head on it for good measure.

She tried to catch her breath, her breaths sounding like she was heaving, her lungs feeling like they'd been punctured. Concentrate, Xichen! Come on!!

She knew she won't survive much longer. Her vision had started closing - everything was already blurry, she could barely figure out his silhouette now. Rising to her forearms with unbearable ache, she flipped herself onto her back, not yet strong enough to stand. But she was conscious; the challenge was still on. 

She allowed herself to assess him then, her spiritual power was still very little to fully right herself. He favored his right side; he was right-handed. His dominant leg was also right, but his hook was left - he attacked the left. She didn't know how her observations could've saved her. He knew all this and more. He knew exactly what to do for his own safety.

Coughing up more spit laced with clots of something that felt uncomfortable - oh...they were blood clots, weren't they? - She swayed on her frame, her sword hand too injured to extend, but the sword in the hand itself was an invitation.

The next hit landed on her chest and abdomen again, clearly her weakest points at the moment, and she fell, limbs directed everywhere in an ungraceful heap, heaving, shaking. She also felt her mouth open. Did she scream?

For a moment, she didn't want to get up anymore. Everything was torture. She wanted to close her eyes, imagine this was a nightmare, and wake up for the next day with Wangji snuggled to her and Shufu smiling down at her. Or better yet, with her A-Niang, who placed butterfly kisses on her cheeks when she wanted. She wanted her mother...

Delirious with pain, she convulsed, trying to find the barest sense of control of her limbs. Why were there three Shixiongs? Her sight was tunneling, rotating. She clawed at the floor, the sensation of sand in her fingertips, felt in tiny scratches. Finally, she righted herself with all the grace of a drunkard who had never been sober. Her sword felt too heavy for her hands.

What hit was this? 7? 8?

Miraculously, her blade crossed his, preventing his attack, but the change was even more brutal. His sword hilt hit her pressure point in startling accuracy, making her dislocate her sword hand. She vaguely heard her own voice as she cried out, wet traces on her cheek. Tears. She was crying.

In not-so-unfamiliar fashion to snakes, she crept towards the fallen sword, her left hand clutching it. It was so wholly unfamiliar. She felt the swords' weight like an extra limb but didn't see it as one, only a burden. The awkward angle in which she held it was more telling than not.

But she felt her body finally adjusting to pain, her mind sharpening a bit through the haze as it went numb. She had a few seconds left before she collapsed, didn't she?

Then he was attacking again, her sword not making any real contact necessary in her unpracticed arm, and trained down on her real hard knocking her out completely. She heard herself growling, howling in pain like some animal, but she couldn't feel shame. This was torture! 

Shufu! Shufu! Please!!

Shufu! Take her out of here!!

Then, suddenly, the voices became prominent, people were shouting her name, weren't they? Xichen. That was her. Her eyes, through their drooping, directed towards the stands. A small figure was the first on her vision, visibly trembling. That wasn't Wangji...was he? The faces around him were blurry, but she heard the shouts.

With a deep guttural scream of her own, she got up, wobbling dangerously. Her footwork was nonexistent at the moment, but she noticed his. One- right, two - left, three- right, and turn, and four -left and sidestep. Was she imagining this?

Between that turn and left...

He charged again. Absentminded, she stayed... then, at the last minute, thrust her sword in blind hope towards his neck, at the opening she barely saw. His sword struck directly on her chest, and she felt herself falling back, sword flung away.

The blackness seeped in, rapid, urgent, voices faded except for a single sound which was static. 

She knew this time; there was no going back.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

Qiren never thought his eyes would be tearing up so publicly, but then, at the pavilion, looking at his tiny niece tearing herself in that fucking arena had him crying. What the fuck was wrong with these people?! She's only 8!!!

Xichen was getting up time and again, growing increasingly bloody and disoriented, yet resilient beyond imagination. Even coughing up blood, she still fought - swaying dangerously, she still stood. What more did she need to do?!

If his fury took form, Qiren knew he would burn each of those Elders who deemed this torture acceptable.

But at that moment, even they looked regretful. Most of their heads turned away from the arena. Away from the duel - or in other, more plain terms, child brutality. Despite it being their own mechanism, they didn't want to witness it on real time, didn't want to acknowledge this bullshit was their construction.

Qiren noted Wangji on the sidelines - doing his own equivalent of wringing his hands, clenching his fists until they hurt. He was stubbornly looking at the arena. Not letting himself miss his sister, but his golden eyes and tiny nose were red. He was crying. At one particular hard blow, his hands reached out into the arena, before Ruiwen, as shocked and pained as he also was, pulled them down gently. Wangji was so disoriented that he didn't even bother to take his hands off that grip. 

All the disciples, on equal sense, looked horrified, many of them with tears running down their faces. At some point, they even started a chant. Yelling his niece's name, hoping for encouragement, seeing her obvious bravery and heroism at facing what hurt her again and again because she said she would, seeing her capacity that the Elder Council so vehemently refused to acknowledge.

Qiren hoped this was enough now. His Xichen almost killed herself to prove her worth. Some faces were turning green now, seeing the blood on her little form, the pristine white now a dark pink.

Qiren wanted to hate Yichen too, but he couldn't. The boy was as much a victim as Xichen, and since her third collapse, his eyes had also become tearful, so clearly hating what they had made him do, making him a perpetrator of violence. Qiren would have ached for the kid if he weren't already trembling in fear for Xichen. He just hoped that nothing was permanently damaged.

He looked at Qingheng-Jun. Hoping he would end this baseless cruelty, but he was as white as a sheet. Shivering at the vision in front of him - Passive yet again. Qiren might have hit the man if he hadn't been in public. Public meant control, especially since he had to show he was always capable of caring for his two children, his niece and nephew.

At the 10th hit, the entire arena sucked in a breath. Xichen fell and lost consciousness - Yichen officially winning the bout. But there was no cheer, not even from the Elders.

Next to him, he heard Shuheng-xiong's silent mutter 'Did my eyes deceive me or did she actually..." He didn't complete the thought, still gazing at the arena, his cheeks also wet with a tear or two.

Yichen, despite winning, stood frozen. Then, slowly, as if moving in a dream, his hands reached the side of his own neck, where Xichen's final thrust was placed, and slowly came down. For nearly 30 seconds, he stood immobile. Then he turned to the pavilion and...

He knelt next to Xichen's unconscious form. 

A collective gasp went out from the audience, even him. Because kneeling...kneeling signified defeat.

"What the hell are you doing, Yichen?!" The angry voice of Yichen's father, Zhenyuan-Xiong, bellowed. But Yichen didn't bother to even acknowledge the outburst, not even a single flicker in his eyes.

Finally, breaking his silence, Qingheng-Jun got up, as did everybody else in the arena. Still covered by his screen, his voice sounded out.

"What happened, Yichen?" Almost kind, yet firm. No traces of an agonized father. But the man Qiren saw behind the partition had been crying, seeing his daughter fighting like an estranged animal, based solely on survival.

"She won, Zongzhu. Her last hit landed on the jugular point. Had it been an actual sword, it would be instant death." Showing them his fingers coated in blood from the slight gash, Yichen stated, his neck injury displayed to the audience.

Another gasp went up in the audience. It was the hardest meridian to hit, but Xichen...did?

"But she didn't complete her 20 hit-" Zhenyuan began, but Qingheng-Jun's voice interrupted.

"The number of hits wouldn't have mattered if one had died. None of Yichen's hits, although deadly, were instant death. Certainly not as the jugular point. Therefore, if it is also in agreement with you, Yichen - " At that, Yichen nodded his head with strict discipline. "-LAN XICHEN IS DECLARED WINNER!" 

The stands erupted into cheers. Shouting, screaming her name - Lan Xichen. But his attention was on her - his niece.

She was still breathing hard, on the brink of consciousness. She needed healing. 

Qiren ran to the arena with a small Wangji on his tail, muttering 'Jiejie, Jiejie, Jiejie' under his breath, eager to reach her. 

The sight of her so bruised and battered broke his heart, even as he read the clear apology in Yichen's eyes. But he allowed himself to offer him a small smile. He was also a kid - he needed to know he didn't do anything wrong.

"Please let me know when she heals so I can visit." Bowing deeply, Yichen pleaded, the tears falling from his eyes. Wangji, not as educated in customs or forced action, looked like he was ready to fight him out of spite. In his own quite stubbornness, he stepped on Yichen's toes, hard enough to hurt, almost making Qiren smile. He was his sister's Wangji, alright. So unbelievably relentless.

"Qiren!" Qingheng-Jun's voice called from the pavilion, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Bring her to my chamber. I'll heal her myself."

For the third time that hour, a unified gasp was heard.

Xichen felt as if her body was crushed by the massive enormity of the Gusu Mountains. Every twitch hurt. Ached.

But pain was good. Pain meant consciousness; it meant lucidity. She was coming back to mortal reality.

Xichen never thought she might die from the battle, although at some points she did fear that there might be permanent damage. Specially, her chest and abdomen. Even now, they were crushing her - breathing was hard.

Pressing herself deeper into her inner consciousness, she let her spiritual power flow through the body, one of the basic practices Lans teach their disciples, Regulation of pain and assessment of damage. Thankfully, except for some signs of heavy internal bleeding, she didn't find any lasting cracks.

Wait...what was happening? She felt another energy - qi energy- in her body, not her own, as her frame slowly started to ease from the pain, she could feel the bleeding decreasing in tempo until it finally stopped altogether. Someone was healing her.

That thought brought clarity. Xichen finally felt outside sensations. A small hand in her hair, a much larger one on her wrist, cold but pouring warm energy into her body. 

She let herself feel the sensation for a minute, exhausted, but then, as always, she opened her eyes.

Directly positioned in front of her eyes was Wangji's face, focused on a gash on her forehead, most likely, if his expression of a slight frown with lips pressed tightly together was anything to go by. That was his concentration, small hands expertly cleaning the wound with a fresh cloth. His other hand rested on her hair, stroking absentmindedly.

Xichen felt a smile forming on her lips. She really had the best Didi in the world.

Finally, the golden eyes, still containing a sheen of tears, met her warm amber ones, and they grew comically large. Completely uncharacteristically, Wangji squeaked. 

"Jiejie!" 

His voice was loud - a phrase not often associated with him - as he threw himself in her arms. Oof. That hurt. But having his warmth was a priority over whatever pain residue there was. 

Wangji was trembling silently as Xichen realized that, as much physical pain she had gone through, Wangji had gone through his own turmoil, watching her getting hurt and being unable to do anything. Even at 5, he was fiercely protective. It might have broken down her precious brother.

"A-Zhan, look at me." Her gentle voice called out, nuzzling his head, which was shaking against her neck. But he just shook his head, burying himself further into her scent.

"Come on, Didi. Look," She urged, well aware she was playing this tactfully. Didi was hardly ever utilized by her and Wangji, in all his adorable stoicism, was a sucker for the endearment. The top of his ears turned red, and he retracted himself, meeting her eyes.

Xichen bit her lip at the affronted expression on his face, keeping the giggle at bay. He knew what she was doing. But he was helpless to stop it all the same. Wangji loved affection - that was one thing she had always adored about him.

At the moment, Xichen couldn't really function her limbs, so she resorted to giving him her most dazzling smile,  with the 'happy dimple' Wangji loved to see on her face. He had once told her that it was his favorite expression of hers, and she had gifted him the smile then as well.

"I'm okay, Wangji. See? I may have lost, but I tried my best. I even landed a hit!" Forcing optimism into her voice, she grinned. But Wangji wasn't responding - his head tilted in the same way hers always did, when she was confused. Then his eyes cleared, some realization dawning upon them, lips curving into a smile.

"Didn't." Just one word. Laced with quiet pride. Xichen had never needed elaboration from him, able to read him in expressions alone. She knew what he meant now as well, and her mind ground to a halt as they just stared at each other.

She won? But...she was on her 10th hit, if her counting was right, and she collapsed immediately after. If she won, then...

The bed dipped with someone's weight being lifted, and Xichen's mind immediately concentrated on the environment she hadn't perceived yet. It was foreign, but not completely either. She had been here...

The warm, large hand tugged her smaller ones. She hadn't been surprised by them earlier; it was always Wangji and Shufu next to her bed whenever she was sick. Hoping to question her uncle about the strange whereabouts, she turned her head...

Oh...

It wasn't Shufu after all.

Her father - the biological one-was moving around the room swiftly. It was his, after all. Tending to her injuries, not bothering to converse with either of his children. Wangji looked uncomfortable in his vicinity; every time he leaned closer, pressing his tiny self more into her side. In spite of not being as reactive, she was, too. She wanted Shufu, not him.

"Wangji was right. You did win." When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, an attempt at tenderness, but not quite there yet. It felt like a declaration, not reassurance. He, despite fathering two children, was clearly new to parenting. Not as effortless as Shufu. Maybe the comparison was unjust, but Xichen was angry at his passiveness. She nor Wangji wanted to be born into this mess of a union they called family. They had no choice. The least they could do was to make it bearable. But Qingheng-Jun was doing the opposite at every turn.

She felt her gaze intensifying into a glare, and clearly, so did he. He was not Lan Zongzhu for nothing, after all. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, looking more like a frightened youth than his supposed image of a towering leader. Who was this man? Xichen scoffed internally.

"Wangji," His voice was directed at her brother, and imperceptibly, Wangji flinched. It was almost invisible, but having all his little tics memorized since birth, Xichen could tell. Had this man said anything to her brother? She felt, as mild as she was usually, anger surfacing under the surface.

"Can you stay outside for a moment? I'd like to have a conversation with your sister," He sounded awfully formal and unnecessarily polite. Not a semblance of familiarity. Her anger evaporated, replaced with the usual calamity of indifference. She really didn't understand Qingheng-Jun.

Wangji clearly heard him, but he didn't react, looking at her. Reluctant to leave her alone. He didn't know the man either. With Wangji, not knowing meant no trust as well.

Despite the phrasings being posed as a question, all of them knew it was a kinder command, but Wangji stood immovable with all the spunk only a 5-year-old, ignorant of many subtle social decorum, could have. His eyes searched hers for the verdict.

She assessed the man - her father. He didn't seem threatening - even seemed weak and exhausted. His voice had been almost gentle. Besides, her Shufu clearly trusted him with them, if his absence had anything to say. 

She turned to Wangji and smiled, allowing him to see in not so many words that 'she'll be fine with him'. Wangji nodded his tiny head but glared upwards in silent warning at their father, before closing the door on his wake. 

Despite everything that action made her smile. With all the threat of a baby rabbit, her brother was truly ready to stand up against the Zongzhu himself for her. But she knew that if the situation were reversed, she wouldn't have hesitated either.

The door shut with a loud bang. She was truly alone with her blood father for the first time in her life.

For a long moment, they didn't speak. His eyes focused on the shut door even as hers focused on him.

Then, shaking his head, as if he forced himself on the present, he slowly walked to the bed, settling down at the very edge of it. He did it with care of not contacting her body, but still she scooched away a little, wanting to make the gap between them as wide as possible. Just because he healed her, she wasn't keen on reconciliation. She didn't even understand if there was anything to reconcile about because they never had a relationship to begin with

Qingheng-Jun noticed if his self-deprecating smile was sincere. But he didn't push her, allowing her to maintain her distance. At least that was a positive.

Still, neither of them spoke. 

Xichen allowed her mind to register the man. To see him. Properly. At least once.

He was probably in his mid-thirties, but he looked simultaneously older and younger. Older in appearance - haggard, sunken eyes, frown lines entirely too much on his face, he looked like a crafted statue depicting the title 'sorrow' because all she read there, plainly, was that. Younger, because his actions were hesitant, awkward, and passive. Even with Xichen, who was all but 8, and looked nothing dangerous with her shoulder-length black hair and bright eyes. His mannerisms were similar to those of Ruiwen-Xiong's age, not necessarily adults, but not completely children either.

Xichen felt something akin to pity towards the person in front of her. Despite his titled identity, this man also didn't know his place in the world.

Feeling her eyes on him, Qingheng-Jun turned. Even within her own thoughts, calling him by 'father' too often felt wrong. Felt like something not his to occupy and weirdly, felt like betrayal for her Shufu.

Shufu had never asked to be called 'father', he was perfectly content being their 'Shufu' but both Wangji and her, when they were having those first days in art - where they asked them to draw the basic things they associated with life - had drawn his portrait when asked to draw their 'father'.

For a moment, he kept his gaze, and his eyes started to well up. Xichen felt panicked.

What happened to him? Was he okay? Did she look that haggard that he had to cry?

But he had been tending to her all the same. Then what - Oh...her eyes.

Wangji often told her that her eyes looked exactly like A-Niang's when he started to miss her between the 29 days of each moon. Said hers were prettier, though, because they - what was that he said - looked like two suns. Because they shine. Unbeknownst to him, that was exactly what Xichen thought of his own. But as stars because of their color. They were the prettiest. 

All that was to say, her amber tone, probably reminded him of his wife-no, his dying wife. There was no way he didn't already know. 

He blinked fast, seeing her observational look, drying himself of tears, and opened his mouth. But no sound escaped him. It would've been hilarious if not for the utterly pathetic context. A father, unable to have a single conversation with his daughter. Her whole life was a very bad plot in a fictional universe.

He tried again - this time succeeding, although his voice grated on syllables. 

"You did good" was his choice of words. Xichen would've been angry if he really had been her paternal figure. Because, what was she? A mule? But she didn't feel anger - just resignation as she nodded her head in thanks.

"Yichen is - uh..." He was stuck, but Xichen didn't care enough about his sentiment to help him out. If it were any of her close associates, she would've tried to help them articulate their thoughts. Because, then, she would've wanted to understand their opinions, their thought process. She felt no urgency here. So she sat, staring at him to finish his words.

He didn't. He went silent again. Xichen didn't have enough energy to be disappointed again. 

She looked around. His room was pristine, clean, and orderly. Not even a single bit of dust. Well, he did live within these walls every second. It would've been upsetting if he made a mess of this, too - her mind quipped, sardonically. Like how he had already messed up his entire life, she thought privately.

She saw that she had new robes on. Had he changed her? She didn't care. She was just glad that as soon as this conversation ended, there would be no other excuses to linger here. 

His room was cold, like him. And she felt suffocated. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all.

"It was the jugular point. Your hit. You were fortunate to hit such an advanced point at the last minute." His voice was now more casual. Still stiff, but he was effectively trying to make conversation. He even sounded impressed. But his words made her bristle.

"It was not fortune," her voice came out, cool and cutting. Her eyes were trained on him hard. "It was my last premeditated thought. I was concise on where to hit." 

It was an admission, and it surprised him. Visibly, given his widened eyes. Xichen felt a quiet pride within her. Yes, she did that. She calculated that hit because that was the only opening she had - the only plausible chance she got. Between that turn and left, Yichen-Xiong's neck had been vulnerable.

"It is a specific point to focus on." His voice was measured now, assessing her as she did him. "Had it been with real swords -"

"It would've killed him, yes." Xichen let herself complete the sentence, surprising him further. "That was the whole point."

For another long moment, he just looked at her as if truly seeing her for the first time. Seeing her strategies, seeing her mind. She had to take action at the moment. She knew her loss was coming, so why not take the chance?

She would rather be active than passive, even if it might end up in her own death.

"It was a dangerous decision." His voice had hardened a touch. He was telling something to her, without spelling it out. Calling out her intent to hurt.

"It was never meant to be otherwise," She didn't deny. She didn't want to hurt Yichen-Xiong. Not at all. But he was not Yichen-Xiong then. He was her opponent. It was within the rules they revered to give her best. Her best was her schemes, not raw strength. She was following the rules as they were.

It was almost invisible, but Xichen saw the flinch. The moment Qingheng-Jun noticed that her mind was the true weapon, that it was a hundred times more dangerous than her physical stamina. She let him see. There was no need to hide. This was what Xichen was shaping up to be, and she had no opposition.

"It wasn't what a duel was supposed to be." Oh, the barely-there Zongzhu was coming to the field. Well, but he chose the wrong context.

"No?" Xichen let herself be stripped of her composure, letting the sarcasm sit there as plain as it could be. "I thought it was only a touch away from a death match - I almost bled to death, you know." 

Silence. Of course. When was it ever not?

"Did I perhaps misunderstand it? What was it meant to be? A lesson?" She drove the knife deeper. At least now he should see what his passivity had done to the Sect. His inaction had fueled the power of the Elder Council till Open Brutality. Masking it as a 'test of endurance'. Making a spectacle out of it - all because he had been too incompetent.

Yes, he may have been grieving, but it gave him no right to isolate himself and wallow in self-pity. Especially not when he was supposed to lead. Xichen could, in good conscience, empathize with the man. But he should've asked for help without retreating. Tried to heal himself without breaking an entire Sect in his wake.

"What good is your title?" She let her thoughts word themselves. His attention snapped back to her - the head that was turned away at her accusatory remarks turning to her, seeing that she had been privy to way too much than what her 8 years should have had.

Seen way too much, experienced way too much.

"You didn't stop them." Finally, her voice broke.

Despite her outward indifference, she had hoped, in some corner of her heart, that her father would step forward. She had kept hoping even while taking hits until it became awfully clear that he was nothing more than a puppet-a man with a title, not a voice. But it hurt. She knew if her uncle had the same authority, he would've. 

Not even as Zongzhu, but as a father. Did he really feel nothing when she cried out? When she bled?

She saw her words striking the man, figuratively. Saw the blades piercing him. But he still didn't say a word. Xichen sighed audibly.

Well, then. It was at least good enough that he didn't deny. Wiping the tears that formed in her eyes, Xichen forced calmness into her frame.

"What are you doing now, Zongzhu?" The use of title was the sharpest blade, it seemed, she noted as he sucked in a breath, his eyes closing briefly, pain so clearly written there. 

"After everything I wanted, expected from you, you didn't do anything. But now you're playing martyr - making yourself a personal healer when there are over a thousand here at Cloud Recess." 

Her voice had calmed down, levelled, mild. She was thankful. She didn't want to give any emotion to a man who didn't give back.

"I wanted to." Finally, after nearly three minutes, when she was adjusting her robe, his voice called out.

He had been sitting on his edge, staring at his hands, that she almost thought he had turned into a statue. Offhand, her mind thought that this was probably where Wangji got his appetite for words, so minimal.

Xichen didn't bother saying anything. She didn't care for this man enough to make it easier for him by showing him she recognized the brunt of his words. He wasn't Wangji. Why should she?

"I wanted to," He repeated. "But I couldn't. I know you don't care much for me. But A-Huan -" Her given name slipped from his mouth, and without meaning to her voice sounded out.

"Xichen" 

He looked at her as if she had snatched the ground right under his feet. She didn't mean to say that. She had kept her walls up so hard that it had been instinctive. The only people she didn't flinch when hearing 'A-Huan' from were her Shufu and her mother, and Wangji, when he was feeling particularly mischievous. Otherwise, she was Xichen. 

But her response now clearly showed him his place in her life. A stranger. Unfamiliar. 

Xichen really didn't mean to, she thought as a single tear dropped from his eye, but she didn't take it back. Lying was forbidden in Clous Recess.

"Xi-chen," His voice sounded out, awkward and painful, voice barely above a whisper. As if saying that name was a personal trial orchestrated for him through hell. Xichen felt guilty for hurting him. But she had also been nothing but genuine.

Before he could give his reasons, Xichen had to stop this conversation. Her heart felt heavy. She wanted to cry. But not in front of him.

"You wanted, but you didn't. As Zongzhu, you could've chosen a different path. Showed them power, not of tyranny but of strength. You didn't. Somewhere inside you, you didn't want the risk. Your silence was better than any words at the moment - portraying you not as a perpetrator of violence, but neither as a soft-hearted father."

Despite his seemingly sincere guilt, Xichen saw through the politics of his decision. He wasn't a weak politician as her uncle often deemed. He was conniving, but wielded it in a way that was super subtle, so that everybody thought it coincidental.

His silence then was more than enough of an answer.

"You always cared more about the image, had you not? The loving husband who undertook punishment for his brutal wife, the suffering Sect Leader who was isolated from his own Sect, but didn't complain. And now, the father who wanted to love but couldn't outright." Her voice was stronger as she felt herself healing back to normal. Good, the Festival started the next day. And then, she would be back in the arena.

"All those slogans are of your doing. Petty excuses wrapped in merciful words," Xichen didn't want to actively hurt the man, but she was done pretending she was blind to the mechanisms. She understood them even as young as she was. But only because she lived with them. She let the facts stand as they were.

"Even then, at the arena, you hoped I would clean up your silence,” She stated, knowing full well she was right. “You gambled on my endurance to excuse your absence. You hoped I’d survive so you wouldn’t have to intervene."

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t tremble. She spoke like someone reciting ledger figures: cruelly precise, without adornment.

He exhaled, not having any rebuttals to her cold logic. But he still was Qingheng-Jun. So selfishly wrapped up in his petty little world filled with excuses to dissuade his passivity.

“You think I didn't suffer, seeing you—” Xichen has had enough. She wanted this conversation to end. Now.

“I don’t care,” She said flatly. Her eyes stared right at his. “I used to. But not anymore. Shufu was right. You're so wrapped up in your own misery that you don't see anyone besides yourself. It'd be good to finally open your eyes, Zongzhu." Her words were unkind, she knew, although she was just reciting facts. But as she said, she couldn't care enough to placate them.

The silence thickened between them.

“You and I will be what we are now,” She said, still looking at his gold eyes. She slowly moved her legs. Oh, she had the motor skills back! Finally! 

“I don’t expect that to change. I am perfectly content as this is. You can live with your delusions, however much as you like.”

Qingheng-Jun swallowed. His eyes were now weak, not even a hint of light. His face was a mask. Completely unable to read. Stoic as she had never seen. She was aware that all of her facts were direct insults to him, if he wanted to interpret it that way. But he needed to be told that at least once in his life. To own up to the consequences he had caused - and escaped from. Trapping others in the heat of it.

“And what are we?” His voice was monotonous.

She didn’t hesitate. She had no reason to. Everything now laid bare in the open.

“At the moment, you’re my healer and I, your patient. So, after I extend my gratitude, there's no more need for us to be in the vicinity."

He stared at her. She did not look back.

Instead, she got up, testing her body again. For a moment, she swayed, and his hands tightened on his robe, wanting to reach out but couldn't. Passive, as ever. She joined her hands, bowing deeply even as she heard him making a sound as if he had been punched in the gut.

"Thank you for your service."

With that, she turned. She knew Wangji wouldn't have gone away, and as predicted, he sat at the foot of the door, waiting for her, his rigid posture still intact. But the red dents in his palms told her that he had been worried.

As soon as he saw her, he got up. Putting an arm around her waist for support. Not asking permission, because he didn't need one.

Xichen saw him look behind her, at the man they had to call 'Father', his gaze too hard for a 5-year-old.

She didn't want him to grow up as fast as she did, but he already was. Yet wanting to preserve at least a semblance of his childishness, she tugged gently at his ear, making him turn to her. 

She nuzzled her nose to his hair, making him huff out a breath of laughter. He always liked it when she was the affectionate one. Being able to receive love without compromising his stoicism - her adorable troublemaker.

"Thank you for waiting, Wangji." Her voice was a whisper, completely tender. He smiled with his eyes. A bright gold shining even brighter in happiness. 

"Mn." That was it. Because after all, she didn't need words, not from him.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

Xichen was having trouble with sleep. In hindsight, considering the injuries she sustained in that brutal bloodbath they called a duel, the fact would've been obvious. But she had almost healed all the way. Despite the man not quite utilizing them, Qingheng-Jun was really rather powerful. She also had a great golden core (Begrudgingly inherited by the man himself), so it figured.

No, she couldn't sleep because she was nervous. Excited, yes, but also nervous.

The coming morning would signal the start of the Sect Advancement Festival, and as per the agreement, she was to represent Gusu Lan Junior disciples. She wasn't scared of the fights. Perhaps even more reassured than earlier, considering she really was able to take Yichen-Xiong's hits - 10 of them - without killing herself in the process or with irreparable damage.

Yichen-Xiong had visited her almost immediately after she left Qingheng-Jun's room, with tears in his guilty eyes and even her favorite sweets in his hands. It wasn't he who should've been apologizing, but her. It was her hit that was mortally threatening. She knew it wouldn't kill him - Practice swords were mostly wooden and didn't cut, but her hit had been hard enough for him to bleed. If it was even marginally harder...she didn't want to think of the consequences. Qingheng-Jun was at least right on that specific point.

With him was Ruiwen-Xiong, who had immediately scooped her into a hug with a small prideful whisper of 'Super proud of you, Shimei'. She had happily hugged him back. She needed those words at least once. Even Yichen-Xiong, though he had lost, patted her on the head with a proud smile. This was all she had wanted and all that her own father hadn't understood.

Meanwhile, Wangji had glared at the two boys to death. She had to explain their situation thrice for Wangji to go back to his usual stoicism. Her little bodyguard.

So, she didn't fear the fights. She was even excited for it. No, what she was scared of was the Formal Introduction.

Elders had seriously lost with her unexpected win because they had been so ignorant to offer the option on a platter before the fight commenced, so assured of her loss. But she had completely turned the tables on them, although unintentionally, and now both were facing repercussions.

As much as she fought for this moment, Xichen didn't feel ready. How much more would she have to prove? How much more judging eyes will add to the already existing ones? She was scared of the possibility. But somewhere in the corner of her heart, she was also slightly jubilant. She had done it, and she was to be known as 'Lan Xichen - The Sect Heir of Gusu Lan'. 

She wasn't delusional to think that the path afterward would be sunshine and rainbows, but at least then, she would have legitimacy. It was better than nothing.

But still she was jittery - completely in contrast to her usual composure. Next to her own bed was Wangji's bed, her brother sleeping peacefully, his arms on his middle, lying on his back. Posture straight as if the discipline was drilled into his very core. It was almost hilarious to see a 5-year-old like that, but it was their reality. Xichen slept the same.

His face, though, was peaceful. When she had ripped their father a new leaf, Wangji had been listening. She knew because he had taken down the single drawing he had drawn of the man as soon as they got home, telling her in not-so-many words that he was on her side, if she was not going to acknowledge him. It had almost made Xichen cry.

Smiling with tears, Xichen had put up the drawing again, telling him to make his own judgements and not based on whatever she was experiencing. She had been emotionally suppressed within that conversation and may have been slightly too harsh. She didn't regret a single word because her life was not going to be filled with regrets - she would face the consequences of her actions head-on, but she did feel a touch of guilt. Perhaps she had not been entirely too fair.

But she was 8 - no matter how hard and fast they made her grow up - she was a child. A child failed by her father. He needed to see that. Needed to see what his decisions had done to all of them. 

Wangji had taken the drawing down again, carefully folding the page before throwing it in with the other discarded papers. His only response had been two words - 'Trust you'.

Xichen had truly cried then. And Wangji, as always, had sat next to her, waiting until she was ready to be Lan Xichen again.

Wangji probably wouldn't mind the intrusion now, then. Reasoning to herself, Xichen got up from her bed, padding down to his. He was tall for his age, so the maneuvering was always a bit of a hassle, but she eventually succeeded in pushing him more towards the walled corner, so she could make room for herself.

Wangji wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, but when truly spent - like that day - emotionally, physically, psychologically - he could probably sleep through a great massacre. So, except for a noncommittal grunt on his end, Xichen received no protest.

She pulled herself to his bed, lying down next to him after adjusting the covers on his frame to fully cover his tiny body. Cloud Recess was colder in the night, freezing cold at times.

Like a firefly attracted to light, Wangji's body angled toward her warmth, making her giggle. See, her Wangji was so adorable, despite all that macho Lan routine!

She embraced him against her frame, him snuggling further into her, nestling his face at the underside of her neck.

"Mn?" Came the silent question. Oh, he had not been as sleepy then. The tone was laced with concern, but eyes were still closed as if allowing her the privacy to feel fear without being seen. At that moment, she really loved her brother. She hated to appear weak, even in front of him.

She shook her head to signal she was fine. She was with him, after all. 

"Mn," Came the reply, satisfied, wrapping an arm around her middle, giving her the anchor she needed, the comfort she craved without making it explicit. Wangji was good with nuances.

"Tomorrow feels foreign," she finally let her walls break. Wangji didn't say anything. Her fear was plain in her words.

"I want to be someone tomorrow. Someone with a weight on her name," Xichen kept speaking, knowing she won't be interrupted. Wangji hummed low, letting her know he was listening. Even without the gesture, she would've known. Wangji had never left her voice unheard.

They didn't speak for a long time, but now the silence felt like a warm blanket - comforting, just a way of sharing the deepest of thoughts without any hindrances, with no chance of repercussions. She felt free after speaking her mind. They felt more tangible then and thus more solvable. 

Whatever was there tomorrow, it was another day. Besides, she had earned the name already. She was going to lead the Gusu Lan Sect, not the entire cultivation world. All she needed from them was acknowledgment. If they didn't give her that, she would just force them to see her worth, as she had already done a thousand times. This was just another test, another drill - with a different shape. This was what she was already used to.

After her musings started slowing down, self-deprecation slowly easing, Wangji opened his eyes. The gold in them shone by the little light filtering through the cracks of the window. And they crinkled, telling her he was happy. 

"Sleep" 

Telling her to stop worrying, reminding her she was already enough. She can sleep without any demons haunting her because she has already defeated them.

Xichen pressed a kiss onto his hair, adjusting herself a bit, snuggling into him closer. His hand wrapped around her, drawing random star patterns on her back. She taught him that - last month, since he was always fascinated by the night, since he was a little star among the people himself. 

That pattern soothed her. Patterns were good; they were predictable. Xichen fell asleep to that positive thought.

The day of the Festival. Arguably, the most important day of the year. And it was already off to a... strange start.

For the first time in her life, Xichen was ushered into the Sect Leaders' room two days in a row, the room marginally better considering the lack of the presence of the man who lived there. Clearly, Qingheng-Jun hadn't forgotten her words. Well, it was yesterday after all. And he was famed for his memory.

She sat there awkwardly, dangling her legs on the edge of his bed, sipping the tea her Shufu had poured for her before leaving swiftly to tend to his own duties. Lan Sect was hosting the event. Her Shufu was probably busier than the Zongzhu himself, because he was the Zongzhu, in all but name.

Thus, for nearly an entire shi, she was left to herself. It was a written rule not to peer through things that weren't one's own by possession. Even if not, Xichen didn't care enough to peek into the life of recluse Qingheng-Jun. So she kept circling her sword around and around, or even doing some of those brain exercises her Shufu had taught her on concentration. She even pretended to have tea at the end - imitating what she would've done if she were invited to any. She hadn't been there yet.

Then a firm knock was heard, Xichen flushing slightly at her own theatrics. She stood up, composing herself enough to sit back serenely as she was trained and called out.

'Come in'

Two older girls with bright white flowing robes and decorated jewelry came in. Oh, Xichen loved that design. They all looked so pretty in them. They even had their hair down, adorned with white pieces and some tiny flowers. Pretty...

"Sect Heir"

Then they almost killed her with their action. They bowed. Deep. Calling her for the first time in her life by her title. It jolted her, visibly.

When they straightened, they both had almost tender smiles on their faces, seeing her surprised look. Xichen was aware that even her lips had parted with wonder.

"Shimei," One of them addressed her - she had dark blue eyes that were almost black. But the sunlight hitting it reflected the traces of blue there. Her make-up, a light touch, complemented that perfectly, accentuating her eyes. Will Xichen ever get to wear that? Will she ever look that pretty?

Although she never complained, she was tired of the shapeless robes she had to wear. They were tailored for a man - it looked good on them, like Shufu. He looked regal in them. Or Yichen-Xiong. He looked quite nice too. Ruiwen-Xiong always teased him about being a 'Ladies' man. ' Xichen didn't really know what it meant, but she supposed that it was regarding the female attention he received. Quite a few of the older female disciples liked him. Xichen had caught some whispering at certain times.

But on her, they just looked odd. Out of place.

"You better get used to the title now." The older girl continued, her blue eyes bright. "From today onwards, everybody will call you that in official address." 

Unconsciously, Xichen gulped. She felt as if reality was crashing in - the weight of her position sinking in. But she wanted this. She fought for this. So, she'll take this. As it was. 

The other girl, seeing Xichen visibly nervous, knelt to her level, with soft eyes. Her skin tone was slightly darker than usual Lan. She probably had one parent who married into the Sect.

"Hey," She greeted, adjusting a hair that had escaped Xichen's tight updo. "Don't be nervous. We all watched you yesterday, you know. We can't think of a better person to be our little Zongzhu than you, Xichen."

Resorting to her name was a good move. It grounded her. She smiled at them, grateful for the reassurance, calming herself in the process. 

"Aww, she's adorable." The other girl knelt too, slightly pinching her cheek, where her dimple just formed. Xichen flushed. She was not used to compliments on beauty. Not ones genuinely sincere with no alternate motives. In her world, beauty meant weakness, fragility. Thus, she did everything to appear stronger than beautiful.

"She is, Xiaolian. Look at her cheeks!" the other girl joined in, almost squeaking, making her redden even more. Was this what she was missing out on? Xichen mused to herself. Because whatever this was, she liked it. Liked feeling like a girl - being praised for it with genuine adoration.

"I can't believe this adorable darling was the same tiny whirlwind inside the arena," Xiaolian, the girl with the blue eyes, said, laughing openly. Such openness was unusual to Xichen. She had to monitor all her expressions all the time, wondering whether they would give away too much, too little, or come across too cold or too warm. She was so used to doing so that she sometimes forgot that the average life wasn't that. On average, one didn't need to restrain themselves. They were allowed to be unrestrained as much as possible.

She briefly felt pitiful for her and even for Wangji. Being born into significance had its price, sometimes far more than it should've demanded.

"Thank you," Xichen heard herself muttering, feeling shy all of a sudden. The two girls looked like they were fighting their urge to squeeze her to death because they found her cute.

"But can I ask a question?" Xichen, as much as she liked this conversation, didn't like the place. 

Noting her eyes looking at the room, Xiaolian let out a small sound of realization.

"Oh, right! Sorry, Shimei. Yuxin-Jie, we didn't explain to her why she was asked to come here." She nudged the other girl, leaving for the door and returning with a set of garments and a tray full of jewelry.

"Ah, yes. Well, this is a tradition, Shimei. We were tasked with getting you ready for your first official appearance. Qingheng-Jun handpicked us, and those garments there were tailor-made by us. We were the best in our class at needlepoint. You'll be the prettiest Sect Leader there is." Her voice was excited, clearly passionate about what she does. Even Xichen got excited with the tone. It must be fun to love what you do, wholeheartedly.

Xichen peered into the garments and immediately stopped short. They were...blue.

Sure, not so dark to completely disrupt the color palette of Gusu Lan, but like the sunny sky and runny water when the sun reflects on it. The only other person she saw wearing blue was...Qingheng-Jun. Oh.

She had read it somewhere in those 'History of Gusu Lan' books. There were 5. Wearing Blue symbolized status in Gusu Lan. A titled cultivator was allowed to wear blue in the Sect with explicit permission - he/she who had made a name for themselves with accredited accomplishments. Other than that, the Zongzhu and the Sect Heir were allowed to wear blue as well. It being mandatory for the Leader.

From now on, Xichen will be wearing blue. The thought made her excited. She was going to be like those in the books she loved. She was a part of history now.

With swift, careful movements, she was dressed. Her headpieces were heavier and symbolic of Gusu Lan - of purity and discipline, but undisputedly feminine. So were her robes. She genuinely felt pretty in them, like she was finally herself.

Despite his shortcomings, her father had gotten this stance correct. Establishing her identity as the Heir while also making it prominent that she was female. Putting forth a motion that couldn't be undone in a very visceral, visible manner. A motion that the world definitely needed.

"You look beautiful," Xiaolian-Jie said, eyes alight, truly happy with their handiwork. They must be right. Xichen felt beautiful too.

"Hey, little firecracker," Yuxin-Jie said, smoothing her hair one last time. "Go show them that beauty is strength, okay? Leave them all in awe." 

Xichen grinned openly this time. That was the plan.

"I will, Yuxin-Jie."

Her words were a promise. An active promise. A promise she was intent on proving herself in.

Xichen heard the music before she reached the pavilion - the bang of drums, a hundred Guqins, and varying flutes. It felt like a celebration straight out of the Epics she rarely indulged in. The sounds made it real, tangible.

She exhaled slowly, calming her nerves, going to the very start of the line of disciples. She was to walk a step behind the Zongzhu as the Heir, leading the Lan disciples who would be performing their skills and who would be advancing to official status as Senior Cultivators.

Directly behind her was Yichen-Xiong, who allowed himself to smile when she did, nodding at her in recognition. Some looked at her in wonder. Because this was the first time Xichen looked like she was. Or at least, how she wanted to be.

Then, a larger presence occupied the space next to her. Zongzhu has arrived. 

Xichen looked at him, but he didn't turn towards her, staring right ahead. She wanted to thank him for this, but if he wasn't keen on conversation, she wouldn't force it. She turned and faced right ahead with him.

The inner gate opened, leading to the main pavilion of Gusu Lan. It was all high arcs and clean architecture. Majestic in its establishment. Even disciples of the Sect needed special permission to be there unless it was an event like this.

Up in the pavilion stand, where the guests were supposed to reside, or where the title holders usually sat, were her Shufu and Wangji, along with the members of the Elder Council. She saw Wangji's eyes widening at her appearance. She raised an eyebrow in question. He smiled his tiny smile and tilted his head.

Well, she did look pretty then. Wangji never lied to her.

Her Shufu was also looking at her with genuine affection, even smiling openly when their gazes met. She felt significant at that moment. As if she were at the top of the world.

Slowly, the disciples took their respective seats, according to ranks and grades. When she was about to join them, a hand grasped hers softly. Not hard, just enough to prevent the action. She looked up at her father.

"With me," immediately retracting his hand as if burned, he climbed the stairs, settling on the massive chair in the middle. Right next to it was a smaller seat - still massive for her, but considerably smaller. That was hers to occupy. When they both sat, the music picked up, playing a tune unfamiliar to her.

Then, the outdoor gate opened. A Sect, with their representatives and disciples making an appearance. Their leader bowed to Qingheng-Jun as he bowed back, Xichen just imitating his actions.

The process repeated so many times, Xichen thought her back had cracked. She had half a mind to just stay bowed. Who knew bowing and getting up could be this exhausting? If this were Sect Leadership, it felt awfully futile.

Finally, the music took an upbeat. Yunmeng Jiang's music.

The primary family walked in. The procession led by Jiang Zongzhu and Madam Yu in equal footsteps, their children, the Sect Heir, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin - who was the same age as Wangji - looking prim, trying to look proper but failing in his childish charm and next to him, his older sister, Jiang Yanli, a kind smile adoring her face. Not pretentious, just sincere. But there was a surprising third face on Yanli's other side. Another small boy, with large grey eyes and the badge 'troublemaker' written all over his mischievous grin. He looked the same age, perhaps a year older or younger than Jiang Wanyin.

Who was he? Nonetheless, if he was walking in the same space as the primary family, he was probably important.

Her Shufu, who sat at the step down from her high chair, audibly sucked in a breath, his eyes also focused on that tiny boy. And even Qingheng-Jun, who mimicked a statue with his blank, serene expression thus far, sought him out at the corner of his eyes, checking on her Shufu's reaction. That sparked her curiosity, and if she was curious...well, there was no rest for the greedy.

Then came the Lanling Jin. Shining gold that almost hurt her eyes. They were loud, arrogant, and pretentious. Obnoxious as Xichen deduced immediately, when Jin Guangshan, their Zongzhu, laughed as if the entire audience had been waiting for his presence. Next to Shufu, she saw Wangji huff, annoyed. He never liked extravaganza. The expression on him yelling silently to 'take him out of there'. Xichen bit her lip to keep her smile to herself.

As if sensing her gaze, Wangji turned to her, allowing her to see his annoyance even more plainly with a roll of his eyes. Xichen had to pinch herself then to maintain her composure, giving Wangji a teasing look, redirecting her attention back to the parade.

Their Sect Heir was prancing just like his father. Jin Zixuan. A year her junior. She didn't like him well at first glance.

Next was Qishan Wen - a bright red that burnt like the sun. Their entire notion was a self-imposed superiority, clearly deeming themselves above the rest of the Cultivation World. The entrance to Qishan Wen Sect was very thorough, allegedly, never allowing a cultivator of mixed blood - normal human and cultivator - to be in their vicinity. They were brutal with their rites of passage for their disciples, too, reportedly. One of her books had talked about a blood oath, where they literally use blood to bind the disciples to the Sect.

Wen Ruohan didn't bother to bow to her father, just a matter of connecting hands. Uncaring, Qingheng-Jun remained polite. That was good. It made Wen Zongshu look like a fool. Although Xichen didn't show any remorse for the action on his end. 

His sons were their father's sons in every way, it seemed. No care for decorum, Wen Xu and Wen Chao behaved like they owned the place.

Finally, it was Qinghe Nie. Their Zongzhu was probably the closest to theirs, belonging to the same age group. Friends since their academic years.

They were the loudest and abrasive. They looked like a Giant Army. Build like boulders - all broad shoulders and authority voices. But they were perfectly respectful, bowing deeper than them to show mutual respect. 

Tailing their Zongzhu and Madam Nie was a tall boy with a permanent scowl and angry eyes. He looked at everyone as if they had severely offended him. And next to him was a much smaller boy - tiny, really - chatting away without a care in the world. But the moment the older boy turned to him with a sharp glare, he puffed up his cheeks and silenced himself.  

Xichen found herself smiling at the reaction.

Accidentally, her gaze met with the older boy, his eyes stopping for a moment, going from angry to observational. He seemed to assess her as she did him, but then, with a huff of breath, he looked away, deeming her insignificant.

Rude.

All Sect Heirs thus war looked at her with clear surprise, noting her seat next to Lan Zongzhu, reading the room. But they didn't react. This one was either too brave or too stupid. And Xichen, seeing his scowl sharpening, wanted to make it the latter, desperately.

Lan Xichen was not a name to be dismissed. Never.

The Festival started with the characteristic display of skills from the chosen 50 disciples of each Sect. 

The spiraled footwork, elegant blades, dramatic sway of robes, and the music that only intensified the spectacle - Xichen almost forgot how to breathe. And she could see the audience being spellbound in the same sense.

Every fighting style was unique, authentic, and mobilized elements of the Sect it represented. No one received more than a few minutes, but within the limited frame, Xichen learnt a lot. The five primary Sects, specifically, were breathless.

Their platoon, led by Yichen-Xiong, had culminated their musical capabilities as well, showing how they could, if needed, destroy in music just as much as heal. The string of Guqin sends a ripple across the ground, pushing every occupant to the back of their chairs by an invisible but undeniable force, leaving them breathless. Their sword work was sharp, pointed, and precise. And as everything in Cloud Recess, elaborate and patterned.

Xichen was pleased to note both Xiaolian-Jie and Yuxin-Jie in the mix. Although they might not have been the best in their age, they were among the top 50 disciples out of a crowd of disciples. That itself was an honor. 

Yunmeng Jiang was slightly similar - they had order but much more freeform than Lan. Purple flashes all around. Swords, whips, and a whole plethora of weapons incorporated into their routine. Although every cultivator undoubtedly carried a sword with them, the Jiang Sect also had more techniques than just swords. Madam Yu's signature weapon was a whip after all - named 'Zidian', one of the most powerful weapons polished by her skill. So the performance had a risqué factor to it - Xichen analyzing the harmony of it all, the different techniques co-existing. 

But she instinctively knew she probably would never use another signature weapon. Shuoye was now an extension of herself. Besides, if she dared to, Liebing could also be far more disastrous than its non-threatening appearance. 

After all, flutes were not as common in Gusu Lan. At least not as the primary musical instrument. Their Sect had always been more partial to Guqin than it was almost a symbol of the Sect itself. Although she didn't understand it explicitly when Liebing was gifted, it came to her attention that the flute was a deliberate choice by the Council in her alienation. Stating in not so many words that her presence was outside the paradigm of Cloud Recess. 

Yet she loved the flute. Liebing was one thing she always had when she was feeling particularly restless. She liked the more prominent, clean sound of it than the base soothing of the Guqin. Liebing felt like making a presence, intentionally, while every other Guqin felt like keeping one. She needed the making rather than the keeping. Even if unintentionally, the Elders paired her with the perfect instrument.

Therefore, she was one of the few people throughout the Sect who used the flute as the primary instrument, and she had never regretted it. Even as Wangji always pouted in defiance for his own Guqin - he had named it after himself, already attached to its presence. Xichen found it both a little silly and meaningful.

Yungmeng Jiang's performance ended with loud clapping and excited shouts - unlike those who clapped with precision, minimal, and dutiful. Xichen briefly wondered how freeing it probably was at the Lotus Pier, if the disciples didn't show restraint in Gusu Lan of all places.

Qishan Wen went next, and the only word Xichen had for it was Brutal. A show of strength with no regard for caution. They didn't bother to bring up healing, another act they were famous in, completely focused on Combat. At one point, Xichen was sure one disciple got injured - that's how violent it was. Red flashes everywhere - looking like blood traces all over the ground. As much as the techniques were noteworthy, Xichen would never want to use them as they were just displayed.

As expected, though, the rest of the Wens hollered after the performance, completely disregarding the rest of the audience who looked brutalized by the said show. Were they blind or just alarmingly ignorant of social cues - Xichen thought, slightly disgusted when she saw the celebration by the disciples - just a matter of aggressive back slapping and scarfing down the nice preparations like some malnourished beasts.

Lanling Jin went next - their goal was clearly wanting to surpass the previous Sects. The performers had so much gold on their persona that they literally shone, more so than they did with their skills. Wangji had clearly had enough of the frolicking. He turned his head down, reading some insignificant wording on the fan resting on the desk in front of him, clearly dismissive. But Xichen remained attentive.

Their whole mechanism lay in distance - maintaining a gap until the very last moment. Their strategy was timeliness and accuracy. She started appreciating Yichen-Xiong's strategy even more, seeing how precise Jin disciples were. Their swords more pointed and piercing, able to go through the tiniest of cracks. Perhaps that gold was also a strategy - distraction. One of the prime necessities for distance-induced fighting.

Qinghe Nie, though, was the complete opposite. Raw Power. Their style was confrontation. Swords larger and bulkier - sabers. Massive in its size as well as impact. At one point in their routine, all the disciples struck the earth with the blades, and Xichen felt the floor shaking beneath her feet. It was purely physical and instinctive. No semblance of patterns or practices - they probably had a vast number of techniques, but apparently, adaptation was also included. Their sabers were red and silver - a deadly combination, just as the wielders. 

Out of all the techniques, Xichen was the most wary of Qinghe Nie. She tried to read and understand them, but they were unreadable. It was clear they weren't doing the routine out of practice work, but something they had put up for the instance. Instinctual to the very last article. For a girl who prided herself on pattern identification, Nie's practices felt the most cumbersome for her.

And their novel disciple was apparently better than their senior disciples - unlike Xichen, who gambled a chance on strategy, this one was truly powerful. He had been practicing since he could walk and was already revered as such. At only ten, he was known as the 'Red Blade', allegedly going on night hunts already.

Nie Mingjue.

He was undoubtedly going to be among the finalists. The same rude boy who looked vexed at the world.

But Xichen had already promised herself. She was going to make sure he would not dismiss her again.

When she finally turned back from her concentrated focus on the arena, the performance now ended, and the Sects were already beginning game plans, Xichen felt eyes on her. She looked up, seeing Qingheng-Jun looking at her, reading her nuances.

For a moment, he didn't turn away, letting his gaze meet hers as openly as it could. At that moment, Xichen saw them shine, like how Wangji's did in quiet mirth.

Then he turned away again, eyes dulling, as if that moment never happened. He nodded his head to the disciple waiting by the massive Gong.

Oh, the announcement...

Xichen didn't feel ready; her hands started to shake beneath her robes. She gripped them on her lap, digging her nails into each palm. Pain was a good distraction; it helped with focus.

Before she could do much else, the Gong blared - the sound echoing throughout the pavilion - the crowd silencing, almost immediately. Xichen suppressed the flinch at the sound, her nervousness mixed with excitement.

Every head was now turned towards the pavilion. At Qingheng-Jun's towering frame. At her, who stood next to him.

"I would like to make an official introduction," He started, without fanfare, direct and clinical. Xichen felt like she might faint at the sheer number of eyes on her - assessing, judging, noting her every minuscule movement. She forced herself to exhale low, steeling her resolve. 'You can be a mess inside Lan Xichen, but don't you dare show it on the outside,' she chastised herself inwardly.

"It is no secret that my firstborn was named the Sect Heir from birth." A grand opening. Cementing the action about to commence as only a natural progression. Qingheng-Jun knew the art of manipulation through words very well.

"But there were no formal introductions made. Here, today, on the grand celebration of a whole age of Cultivators taking their first steps into the world in independence - no longer apprentices, but able to be decisive as they please - I'd like to introduce you to the future leader of Gusu Lan - the next Zongzhu - Lan H..." He stopped looking at her briefly, and her eyes turned to him. He was being passive-aggressive, wasn't he? Making it abundantly clear to her that the decisiveness he lacked was a shackle of his status, using her own words to introduce her to the world.

Petty and Pathetic. He was still intent on playing the tortured hero.

Xichen kept her gaze hard on him, daring him to call her Lan Huan. She wouldn't hesitate to walk out if he dared cross that boundary as well.

"...Lan Xichen," He conceded. Back to passivity, taking his eyes off her. Good. This was the dance they always did. This was what they were used to. 

She turned back to the audience, eyes straight ahead, posture immaculate. This was the Xichen she wanted them to see. Unyielding. Undeniable.

But she was met with dead silence.

Realistically, Xichen didn't expect cheers or words of congratulations. But she didn't expect a thundering silence either, so surprised by the announcement and unable to react.

She knew that the majority expected the Sect Heirship to just stay as it was - unannounced, unmarked, until eventually, she got married or Wangji stepped up to challenge the seat. They waited for her to denounce at some point in the future, eventually leaving a man in charge. But the official introduction solidified her legitimacy, and now they were reeling in the aftershock.

The silence prevailed. As always, Qingheng-Jun didn't do anything to fill the gap, nor did she expect him to. But the stillness was making her uncomfortable. She fought herself to keep her steady gaze. Taking her arms behind her back since they started shaking too much to ignore.

Then came the first whisper.

"A girl?" A furious murmur, but still audible. A man. "I thought they were smarter than this."

"Wasn't the plan to wait it out until the younger one matures?" Another voice joined. Instinctively, Xichen's eyes sought Wangji. Her brother looked agitated. Not in his expressions but in the way his fists had tightened. His eyes sought hers just the same, as if desperate to tell her that he didn't want it, he'd never want anything that was rightfully hers. Xichen let her eyes soften for him. Of course, she knew. She trusted Wangji more than the ten thousand people in the audience combined.

But inside, she was getting angry. She could tolerate a jab at her. It had been her whole life. But they were making Wangji uncomfortable, trying to control his narrative. As long as she was here, that wasn't going to happen. Not under her watch.

"Look at her. Like a doll. How could she lead a Sect?" A much louder voice asked - turning her head, she saw the Sect Heir of Wen. Wen Xu. His eyes looked predatory, calculated, not unhinged. That scared her more.

"I know," Wen Chao's voice was even louder, laughing. Why wasn't Wen Zongzhu doing anything? Were the boys' lack of manners not questioned? If she dared to break decorum like that, she would have to kneel in the punishment chamber for half a day - everyone would scold her. Instead, Wen Ruohan was smiling at his sons, almost in encouragement.

Xichen felt her anger flaring.

On the other hand, the majority of the Elder Council had downturned heads - they expected this outcome, of course, they did. They wanted to prevent this same situation. But seeing her own Sect so ashamed of her...it twisted something in her heart. Her chest hurt. Although she expected it, it was unbearable.

"There had been female Sect Leaders before," One voice reasoned, somewhere. But it was immediately swallowed by a guffaw of mock laughter.

"Not in Gusu Lan. Their last Female Leader almost wiped out the Sect!"

It wasn't true. Lan Yi didn't do anything of the sort. She had her faults in governance, but she always did everything for the betterment of her Sect. But history was written by another hand - the ability to twist, manipulate, and converse any ideology the hand craved. So, Lan Yi was now the antagonist, and despite the Lans knowing the truth, more or less, it also had been them who had manipulated the narrative. Now they couldn't contrast their own words.

"She's a beauty. She would make a wonderful bride. Why bother with this propaganda?" It was a female voice, and it cut deeper than the rest. Was marriage all a woman's fit for? A role of a mother, a wife? Why can't she be more? 

"I thought Qingcheng-Jun would learn from Jiang Zongzhu. He made the wiser decision. A boy is more solid," Another voice supported.

Xichen noticed Jiang Fengmian's silence at the remark. Even though he probably heard. But he was not passive. He slowly reached towards his daughter's hand, clutching it in his as Yanli looked at him happily. He was always on her side, and she knew it. The Leadership wasn't hers because he didn't want to give it - it was because she didn't want it. Even the two young boys looked protective. Glaring too hard for their tiny frames at the commentator. Madam Yu circled her ring, the ring that contained Zidian, once, eyes boring into the man.

Xichen felt small looking at them. That was a family, so ready to defend each other, openly, without remorse, without hesitation. And she...

She looked at her father. He hadn't seated himself, but he may as well have. He was silent, not bothering to say another word. He had announced, as he was supposed to. There were no more expectations from him.

"This won't last. Lan Wangji better prepare himself." 

That comment, by Jin Zongzhu, no less, with the patronizing pat on her brothers' head which made him flinch, visibly, was the last straw for her.

Xichen wasn't supposed to address anyone on her introduction - it wasn't a practice. But she was going to. If they didn't like it, they'd have to deal with it.

She'll not let Wangji or herself be pawns in their agendas. Moreover, if she didn't have a proper parent to look after her, her Shufu silenced by the duty of not disobeying his Zongzhu, she would do it herself.

"I, Lan Xichen -" She started - her voice loud, composed than she was. Eyes turning to seek her frame. Some indignant, some mocking, some curious. No acceptance in sight. Fine, she'll just make them accept.

"-The Sect Heir of Gusu Lan, welcome you all to the Sect Advancement Festival. It is in our Lan practices to observe before comment, understand before judgement, think before action..." Her eyes wandered the arena, shutting up those voices one by one - clearly sensing the underlying message in her words.

"...We believe that to be the path to Cultivation Ultimatum. Clarity. Clear Perception. The Festival was thus organized with the theme in mind." Her voice now echoed in the silence. Good. Let it echo. These entitled ignorants needed to see clarity at least once.

Regardless of differences in gender, power, and strength, all of the disciples who will be advanced today have gone through a test of personal trial. Equally deserving of the opportunity - no one higher nor lower. With a remarkable pool of skills.  I am proud to state that I, myself, will be representing the talent of Gusu Lan in the novel category. Her words seemed to surprise them further. Yes, go ahead, understand now. She came to this place with merit.

"Please do lend me your thoughts after. I would love to hear them." A direct hit for the whispers. Why bother with silences? Just tell her as it was, to her face. Xichen hated cowardice.

And then, with all the grace in her small frame, she straightened, joining hands and bowing deeply to an audience still in awe. 

Silence. No one dared to speak. How could they? She just invited all of them to judge her, and do it openly, but only after seeing her talents. There were no more whispers to circulate.

Then, a snort.

"Ah, Lan Zongzhu. You truly have a formidable hand for the future!" The voice was deep, paternal. Xichen turned to see Nie Zongzhu looking at her, mirth dancing inside his dark green orbs, proud.

She instantly liked him. 

His comment thwarted the unbearable stillness that prevailed. Finally, seeing Qingheng-jun still immobile, her Shufu huffed.

With a small pat on her back, silently assuring her that she did good, he started directing everybody to their respective rest areas. The fights will commence in the evening. Before he left, though, while her father was still there, Nie Zongzhu knelt at her level. He was quite tall, after all.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you, little warrior." Adjusting a falling flower on her head, he said, his voice soft. He clearly knew how to be a parent.

"What you did today was rather brave. I wish you the best of luck."

Then he left, with one final smile. This was the man who had the perfect heir. An Heir whose win was almost guaranteed even before he stepped into the arena, and the father was rooting for her. Xichen felt herself smiling. He had seen her-seen her as worthy.

Wangji dragged his feet towards her. His eyes were bright. 

"Hero," He pointed to her. Xichen laughed out loud. Wangji was calling her a hero, his hero. Because she defended him. Because she defended her. Because she defended them.

"Well, you are mine. I wanted to return the favor." With a nudge, Xichen retaliated, making Wangji smile, finally, with a hint of teeth. 

Qingheng-Jun was watching them - she knew. When she looked at him, his eyes were unreadable. But for a flash, she saw his lips tilting upwards, a small smile of pride. Then it was gone. 

But Xichen still caught it. She had three out of five Zongzhus amongst the primary Sects' acknowledgement. That was enough. For now.

Because at the end of this festival, she'll have all of them recognize her - 'Lan Xichen' will be remembered.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

The first match began at midday, when the sun was directly overhead.

As cold as Gusu Lan was, the burning sun was excruciating. So excruciating that Xichen urged Wangji to go under a shade at least thrice. But he was the very incarnation of stubbornness when he wanted to be - he wanted to be by her side, so he did. Even if his skin was getting progressively burned by the second.

Xichen was already wearing a balm - one was distributed in the mornings for all fighters. Wangji's skin blotched after a while - Ruiwen-Xiong resorted to physically lifting him up and situated him at the stands. Wangji was shooting murderous looks throughout, with one word demands of 'Down' and 'No' repeating, even directing Xichen a glare as well for not taking him out of the maneuvering. But Xichen just smirked at him. She did say to wait in the stands from the get-go.

She vaguely saw that right above where Wangji was finally seated, eyes narrowed and completely unimpressed, were the Jiang siblings. Just one row higher. Yanli seemed to be placating a small feud amongst the boys - Wanyin reaching over his sister to smack the boy with grey eyes, even as he laughed carefree. The scene was so wholesome that Xichen had to smile. 

But that turned into a full-grown grin, noting Wangji's reaction, which was also probably audible to him. He bore a look of long suffering, as if he were already dead inside. His eyes were screaming at her to finish her bout as quickly as possible so they could walk away.

After all, children didn't need to attend the event - some Sects even restricted it because of how brutal the fights could get, especially in the Senior Category. Last year, when Yichen-Xiong won the category, he had a broken leg and a tangled arm. He was the winner...So there was no need to even think about the rest of them.

Xichen wasn't expecting her category to be as violent. After all, it consisted of the most novel of the disciples, with less or equal to half a decade of combat experience among them. 

It was the easiest category among the three for obvious reasons.

But it was no less competitive.

Each category had at least 100 participants. There were well over 100 Sects in the audience. Some may have taken the chance to withdraw or chose not to participate, but there were definitely 100 disciples for each category.

The usual procedure was to divide the competitors into two sections, and within each section, 25 competitors would be selected. The first round was an elimination round. Then, from those 25, 16 of the best performers will be selected and will be in an all-play-all, meaning every participant plays every participant. Amongst them, the 5 with the highest wins will advance to the next round. Then those five will again go against each other to choose the 2 at the top from that section.

With the other section following through, then the category will have the 04 best fighters of the age. Then, a participant from the first section plays with a drawn lot from the second section. The winner of each duel advances to the finals. The ultimate champion decided there.

Xichen's goal was to cement herself amongst the best 4, who would gain much recognition and status. 

But this year was tough, even for her, as a novel participant. Most of the participants were already 12, so physically much larger. But more than that, this time, there was definitely much competition. There was Nie Mingjue, who had won the competition since he started participating two years ago, finally deciding he would take the chance because he was already way above average, aiming for the third consecutive win. Jin Zixuan - who allegedly already thrashed a few senior disciples in their Sect despite being 7. And multiple more with credentials to their name.

So far, Xichen's existence was non-existent within the Cultivation World. Nobody knew her. Of her prowess.

But she secretly liked it that way, despite the lack of fame in her name. Unknown meant unpredictable. It was beneficial to be the underdog.

As if proving her point, a snarky laugh was heard next to her, where her first opponent was residing. The second in line for the Sect Leadership of Ouyang - Ouyang Qianyu. He had a strange inferiority complex since his brother was always better at everything - in martial arts, in academics, and generally, in being a good person.

"Shifu, do I need my sword for this? I doubt it would take much time."

Wonderful display of cocky arrogance. How predictable. Xichen didn't bother to react. She knew his voice was intentionally loud, just so that she could hear. But she had better things to care for than waste her time or energy on a boy who utilized his brain once every year.

His Shifu didn't say anything outright. But his silence spoke his unspoken sentiment. Had it been any other Heir of a Primary Sect, or any Sect for that matter, that same Shifu would be scrambling to correct his obnoxious student. Perhaps even asking him to apologize for his lack of propriety, lack of decorum. But clearly, Xichen was female, which meant automatic neglect and underestimation.

Xichen laughed to herself. How poetic. She'll maybe pen a poem at night about the irony of this scenario. When she wins over this imperious buffoon.

"Should I warn her, Shifu? I don't want to accidentally hurt that doll. She looks quite pretty," Clearly not understanding her disinterest, the boy continued. He was all but 12 and already a victim of the society that only viewed to be objects of beauty. Revolting. 

In spite of Xichen always wanting to wear robes similar to what she had donned for the day, feminine, graceful, the daily struggle was much imminent there too. No one had previously commented on her appearance with an object value when she was in a man's garments. Of course, she was still complimented, but always on how she could elevate it. Now, they looked at her like a piece of meat ready to be auctioned.

Every way makes a woman lose, apparently.

"I mastered my strokes nearly a year ago. Already talented in nine out of 12 primary sword formations and body tempering," He boasted. Xichen had to bite her lip to hide her laughter.

She had mastered all of the 12 by the time she was 5. She was able to even travel by Shuoye now, a talent not even some intermediate disciples had mastered yet, as it required full concentration and spiritual energy allocation in segmented periods - one of the hardest parts to go past in initial sword cultivation. Xichen almost wanted to say how pathetic his attempt was, but no. She was better than that. She'll just show them with a crushing defeat.

The gong sounded, signaling the start of the bout. Her Shufu, back at the pavilion, gave her a stiff nod - his way of saying her to be calm. Her Shifu didn't even bother to prepare her, already assured of the win, and was idly chatting with Ruiwen-Xiong at the edge of his arena, after patting her on the back. 

Xichen smiled slightly. That was classic Ruiwen-Xiong. Letting his opponent wait a while before completely demolishing them afterward. He told her when they first practiced together that it was to break concentration by letting his opponent go into overdrive of thoughts. Xichen hadn't fallen for the trick - that's how they became friends, although he was nearly 7 years her senior.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she also tracked her opponent. Smug smirk very much present and being the 'gentlemen' while circling each other, allowing her the offense. Xichen didn't particularly care for the side she had to take. She was confident in both. But if he really needed her to... it was, after all, in the rules not to deny a guest.

Without prior notice, she set off, small body airborne, striking the center of his chest, exposed in his conceit with remarkable ease, sending him straight to the ground. 

All the watchful eyes, who were pretending to be uninterested all this while, deeming her insignificant but also wanting to see how good she was in her declared words, turned absentmindedly to the commotion. Breaths sucked inside their lungs.

Xichen briefly felt sorry for the whole act they were projecting. Really, how weak-willed. All it took was the first hit for them to abandon pretense.

She took a small pleasure in the expression on her opponent's face. Completely bewildered. Wide eyes almost jumping out of their sockets. Jaw dropped so openly she wanted to remind him to close his mouth. What happened to the ego that feared for HER safety? She let herself have fun for a second.

Then he got up. His fragile masculinity was wounded. His eyes narrowed, his face reddening with anger and humiliation, shame for being bested by a girl. The only girl in the competition, no less, within the first 30 seconds. 

With a superficial yell, he advanced, flinging his sword madly - his only goal to hurt her, to avenge himself. How petty.

Xichen just sidestepped, letting him make himself a fool with his unbalanced composition. Who put such weight on an attack? It was detrimental to always weigh on the ground.

For the second time, he fell, now on his own merit as Xichen swished past him, her robes still pristine white - unmarked, layered, in perfect condition in contrast to...well, muddy, fashion he was supporting at the moment.

Oh, Qianyu. Xichen would've resorted to slight mercy had he been even marginally respectful. She felt no such inclination. Since clearly, the humiliation was stemming from his mess of attacks more than her own doing - she would've at least shown she was doing something earlier to keep his dignity somewhat intact had he been even a little nice. But he wasn't. So, let him preserve himself.

His attacks increased in number, but his strength was declining; he was exhausting himself in anger. Xichen still wasn't sweating from the fight. The Sun was posing her more threat than the current opponent, with its heat than whatever...vigor he had in his fight.

He tired himself out within 5 minutes. As she predicted.

Each bout was only 10 minutes; the last man, or in her case, woman, standing won. 

With a well-aimed roundhouse kick, she brought him down. Straight to the Brachial point - where the neck meets the shoulder- temporarily paralyzing him, making him fall to the ground like a thrown sack of potatoes. And it was done.

She officially won the first duel.

There were no cheers for a moment. But then a small voice loudly started yelling "PRETTY AND COOL?! I WANT TO BE LIKE THAT JIEJIE ONE DAY!" 

Xichen directed her attention towards it. It was that boy with grey eyes, jumping up and down. Xichen felt herself smiling. He was adorable and clearly a supporter despite not really knowing the fight she was fighting, invisible to the naked eye.

Then a stranger thing happened. Wangji, who took his position as her uncontested support quite seriously, started clapping, but that boy did too, at the same moment. Xichen saw the visual of the two clapping sounds echoing, in unison, as the two boys looked at each other. Wangji with a scathing look, which screamed 'back off', and the boy with a mischievous smile that shouted 'make me'.

Oh, this was going to be interesting.

Even as the cheers started pouring in, Nie Zongzhu even winked at her from the pavilion with a smug smirk, her attention remained centered on the two smaller boys. As she was moving closer, she caught Wangji's red ears. Oh...~ 

Involuntarily, a knowing smirk reached her face. This was going to be interesting.

She had waited all day at the arena until at sixth hour, the matches stopped. The 16 best competitors in her section were to be announced. Next to her, Wangji was also attentive, but the rest of the kids his age, Wanyin and the grey-eyed boy who immediately latched on to her, saying she was the 'prettiest fighter' he saw that day - named Wei Wuxian, apparently- were all sleeping on their sister. Yanli, despite the boys being obviously heavy, even more together, bore it with tender expressions and unlimited compassion, even stroking the heads that rested on her lap at times, eyes always fond.

It briefly reminded her of Wangji when he was even younger. Now, he didn't rest on her, definitely not in the open. His open, affectionate gestures were about glaring people to death when they defied her or occasional foot stomping he was prone to. Yichen-Xiong had told her with a fond smile that Wangji had done the same when they had dueled.

Xichen had wanted to talk with Yanli as well. She looked nice. But her time didn't allow her to quite do that. But Yanli always smiled whenever she looked at her, and had clapped hard for her when she won. She felt a sense of camaraderie there for a moment. A girl of her age, only a year between them - acknowledging her, wanting to know her- it was a novel experience.

She had not seen either of the two Primary Sect Heirs in her category since morning - both probably in the other section. Well, it was a marginal relief. She can save the best for last.

Her Shifu walked to the front of the arena, scroll in hand. His eyes alight. It meant good news. Xichen already knew she was among the top 16. She had been the fastest in finishing her bout.

As expected, her name was the first on the list.

"Lan Xichen, Sect Heir of Gusu Lan, advances to the next bout!"

His voice was proud, eyes roaming the arena, challenging one person to refute. Xichen smiled when accepting her parchment, noting all those voices which doubted her in the morning now praising her, as if that's the last thing they wanted to do.

Xichen was advised on morality and how others' sufferings should not bring pleasure. But she was also honest enough to admit that the sensation felt vindictive.

She looked at the empty head chair- Qingheng-Jun had retired early.

For the outside world, it was because he was attending to his sick wife, but she knew it was because her father was unused to public after years in isolation. His entire frame had started spasming slightly when Shufu had made that wise decision to excuse him on 'Madam Lan's behalf'. 

Every Lan knew they hadn't seen each other since her mother was diagnosed with the incurable disease she had acquired. Even when they visited her, they barely got 3 shi of her attention, immediately escorted out as if they'd contract the plague. How foolish. If it were the plague, everybody, including her mother's maids, her uncle, and them, would've been dead months ago.

But they could already justify any excuse they had in their vicinity. They were not above telling them that their time with their A-Niang needed to be limited because she suddenly developed an allergic reaction to the color white. That's how... creative they were with their methods.

Wangji looked up at her then. Despite his attentiveness, he was just waiting to leave the arena. He was just polite enough to stay focused for the sake of it. Noting his look, Xichen extended her hand, his smaller one immediately entangling with hers.

And then she bowed to the audience, the majority had already left after all. She was just as tired and didn't feel up to par with playing host.

Truth to be told, she was wary of the arena too, after looking at it the entire day.

Then, with Wangji's hand on hers, she left for their usual long walk. The Walk that encapsulates the entire Lan footpath. Coincidentally (not), the room their mother was residing in was a sight in the path. 

Xichen didn't much care for the walks, in all honesty. Looking at her residence was in no way, shape, or form equal to meeting A-Niang. Besides, no matter if they circulated the area not once, but a hundred separate times, except for those three hours on the given day, the doors remained closed. But Wangji loved it. When Xichen asked him about his choice, he just pointed at the light emitting from the room and said, 'There. '

Xichen had understood, as always. The light there meant presence. This was Wangji's way of knowing that despite being close off from them, to the world, A-Niang was still there. Alive. Breathing. Present.

The realization had almost broken her, and from that day onwards, she took him to her favorite place in the mountains, directly overlooking her mother's residence. She always practiced Liebing here, and if she was feeling particularly motivated, brought her books and indulged herself in a deception so far from the disappointing reality.

The first day they had gone there was almost a year ago. Missing their mother terribly, Wangji had climbed onto her lap, like he did with A-Niang, resting his tiny head on her shoulder. His face had been turned to the resident's direction, but when her arms came to envelope him further, he had just turned away and snuggled into her further. 

He hadn't fallen asleep, and she had known. But they stayed like that for hours. 

After that, every time Wangji felt particularly restless, Xichen found him at her spot. Their spot. And the tradition continued. 

Even as he grew with weight, sometimes rendering her legs motionless because she had stayed in the posture for hours, she never asked him to get up, and he never did, even if his back was hurting just the same.

It was their time. Their peace. It was way precious than any physical discomfort.

Xichen could sense that this day was going to be another one of those. Wangji, as much as he pretended otherwise in all his baby stoicism glory, had been agitated since morning.

Apparently, Wuxian had even taken his milk sweet. Guaranteed, the boy had asked, but Wangji, being Wangji, had not replied with words, and the boy, taking silence as a 'yes' instead of a 'no', had taken the sweet with a grin. 

Wangji had been sulking when Xichen finally sat next to him, only placated when she gave hers to him. She didn't like the sweets anyway. But on principle, she wanted to see Wangji stew for a while, too. She was a big sister after all.

But she had always been weak for Wangji's needs, so it hadn't taken much for her to fold. Just a brief stare at the sweet from Wangji and a deliberate look away. She was also quite weak-willed with her brother.

Wangji was still holding on to her hand when they made the final turn - a bit of an isolated area in Gusu Lan. They had a lot, but this was specifically so, since their mother's residence was a few hundred meters away. To keep her imprisonment, oh, right-detachment, as the Elders called it, in isolation.

Wangji, as always, stopped for a second to check the light - still bright and yellow. Xichen waited for him, but then, instead of Wangji's familiar hand, another callous one gripped her, turning her away from the sight. Wangji immediately tried to help, but was held back by a large boy, triple his size. But her little brother fought to get released.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our little show stealer."

A voice whispered directly in her ear.

"Let go." Xichen's voice was cold, so in contrast to her usual, mild warmth.

But there were nearly 5 boys, all larger in frame and older. Xichen didn't have any weapons on her - not even her flute. The only thing she even remotely could have used to defend herself was her hairpin, but she didn't know how to extract it swiftly like most maidens her age. This was her first time wearing it. 

Besides, she had Wangji with her. She can't let her brother get hurt.

For all his bravado and unquestionable talents, he was only 5 and still very preliminary to combat. There was no realistic help from his side. She wasn't much better herself. Yes, she could thrash boys her age without blinking, but this was a challenge beyond her.

It didn't help that they were from a Primary Sect - The Wen Sect.

After witnessing the utter brutality they called 'performance' in the morning, Xichen deduced enough that injuries were fashion to them. They didn't care for physical limitations. Even if they beat Xichen to the ground, they would still call it 'harmless fun'.

"Scared now, Dollface?" Wen Chao leaned into her space, making Xichen lean back. The boy was only 14 - her senior by 6 years - but still, he should be called a child. It seemed Wens didn't particularly care for child-caring. His breath was laced with such alcoholic toxicity that Xichen almost felt drunk just inhaling it.

Alcohol was forbidden in Cloud Recess. How dare they?

When she didn't answer, the taunts started to come in faster, taking her silence as submission. 

"We can settle the bout for tomorrow right now, Lan-guaniang~" Wen Chao kept speaking, words slurring a little. Xichen backed away another step. Wangji was still struggling in the hold, his upper arms probably red under the layers with that bruising grip. Xichen widened her eyes at him, almost commanding him to stay put. Wangji didn't like the alternative, but he always listened. To her. So, he stopped, waiting for her action.

"I have no animosity with you, Wen-gonzi. We are not competitors. You are not in my section. Unnecessary violence is not permitted inside these walls." With a very pointed look at the surroundings, Xichen reasoned, her voice still measured despite the fear settling inside of her.

What was she going to do if they attacked? Would she be enough to protect Wangji and herself? 

Xichen was not naive about her talents. She was good, she knew, but she was also young with basic combat skills in comparison. Five boys older, bigger, experienced than her was not a good possibility - she wouldn't be unscathed. Something she can't afford at the moment when the Competition was commencing. She needed to be in her very best form.

She knew she should've brought her Liebling! At least the music will be enough to put them into a brief rest, so Wangji and her can get to safety.

"Who said I was fighting you? One knock from me will scar that pale skin forever," he laughed, clearly very assured in his skills. His arrogance was so much that Xichen briefly wanted to challenge the boy to a duel. But this wasn't the time to appease her vanity. Excessive Pride was a sin - a downfall. An example of that standing right in front of her. She will not succumb to that fate.

Xichen instead kept her silence, formulating a strategy. Wangji was still held by only one boy, in spite of his large frame. One strike on his Ulnar nerve - the nerve of his elbow - will immediately loosen his hold on her brother. Wangji could run and get help. Until that, she hoped she was able to hold the fort. At least her priority would be satisfied: Wangji's safety.

Keeping her act of backing away from Wen Chao, Xichen started to direct her foot near where Wangji was, letting Wen Chao monologue about his brilliance. Two more steps.

"Zhuliu!" Wen Chao's voice sounded. A figure appeared behind him, like a shadow, obedient. Xichen had seen him before. He was only three years her senior, meaning that he belonged to the same category as she did. She saw him fight earlier. He was good - better than most.

His lineage, not originally Wen, but of Yuan ancestry, where they practice healing primarily, especially in regard to the golden core, had made him a near monster in the cultivation world. Zhuliu had not yet mastered the ability, where Yuan practices directly affecting golden cores, but he was learning. There was a rumor on how the practices, if practiced to ultimatum, could melt the golden core if the practitioner wished. Nobody alive, even their Sect Leader, had the ability as of yet. But Zhuliu's path showed a good probability.

He was only 11, but his hand strike had left his opponent in a hazy state with irregular golden core spasms for nearly 4 hours, eliminating the poor kid right out of the competition. Xichen didn't like the technique. It was supposed to be healing, but Wens had made an executioner out of the boy. It was only going to be honed in the future. Just a kill-dog, with the reins so tightly wrapped in Wen Primary Family - especially Wen Chao.

Xichen, despite the very real danger at the moment, felt momentarily bad for the fellow cultivator. It wasn't his fault Yuan was the closest Sect situated to Wen, nor was it his fault that, in urgency, Yuan had to resort to Wen's help to sustain the Sect. But he, Zhuliu, had been the price. Swearing his life away to a Sect not his own, promising to be a bloodhound when he could've been the lion of his own Sect.

The boy stepped forward, dark black eyes emotionless, looking more like a puppet than a breathing being. He was one, in all honesty, considering the way the Wens treated him.

"He is going to be one of your opponents tomorrow. Isn't he?" Wen Chao slung an arm on the boy's shoulder. He didn't react.

Xichem was sensing the next words before they came out of Wen Chao.

"Why not settle it now?"

She reeled in the sigh. So predictable. But unfortunately for her, his predictability at the moment didn't make him less dangerous.

"I've already explained to you, Wen-gongzi. No fighting for unnecessary means. You should go," Taking another step back, she stated. One more.

"Call me Gege if you want," Wen Chao leaned into her face further. His arms came up to her shoulder. Xichen suppressed a flinch. She was only 8. What was he doing?

"Stay Away." A command came from Wangji, eyes blazing.

If looks could kill, Wen Chao would've been 10 feet under.

But Wen Chao saw through the threat - it wasn't empty, not at all, but it wasn't posing any danger. A 5-year-old child, despite being a prodigy of his age, was no match for 5 boys, all of whom had almost twice the experience of his lifetime.

"Aww, look at that. Does Lan-guaninag need protection from her itty-bitty brother?" His mocking voice almost made Xichen punch him in the face, although she was still keeping her anger in check. "Not even up to my chest, but this idiot is ready to call the shots, huh?" He patronizingly ruffled Wangji's hair, hard, messing up his immaculate appearance. Wangji, unable to do anything in the hold, glared up at him, but Xichen saw through the brief flash of helplessness.

And she saw red.

Grabbing his wrist without a thought, only to get him away from Wangji, Xichen turned Wen Chao back to her.

"Keep your hands off of him, Wen-gonzi. I won't repeat myself." There was a very real threat in her murderous voice. 

"Oh~ How cute? Siblings protecting each other. Truly, a one for the fairytales," Wen Chao mocked, but took his hand away. Xichen dropped the hand. "But this has gone on long enough. I hope you won't think less of us, Lan-guaninag. This is just a show of camaraderie, to make it easier for our boy tomorrow."

Xichen saw the punch coming from a mile away, but she didn't step back. Instead, she twisted his own momentum, taking that one final step, hitting the Ulnar nerve of Wangji's captor, freeing him. Pushed forward by her force, the captor lurched forward, and Wen Chao, unable to control his momentum, punched his friend in the face instead.

"Go," She commanded her brother. Hesitant to leave her with now not only a taunting but furious group of boys, Wangji shuffled, not controlling his expressions out of sheer concern and fear.

This won't do.

"I said go, Wangji!"

Her voice came out loud, an uncharacteristic display of authority and rage. Wangji almost flinched before bowing and running off for help. Xichen felt bad. She never raised her voice at her brother, and he didn't deserve it. He was only trying to help. But having Wangji there was just another casualty - one that would distract her too much.

Immediately, the boys charged her. Xichen knew this wasn't personal propaganda. This was just glorified violence - bullying. Wen Chao was rather famous for it. But her fate always drew the short stick. She happened to be the unwilling victim on this specific day.

Side-stepping and trying to avoid hits rather than hitting back, Xichen maneuvered her body, angering them further. They clearly didn't expect her to be as agile as she was. Their attack was rejuvenated in vigor. 

Xichen felt fear spreading across as they drew the weapons. She didn't have any on her!

"Wen-gonzi," She opened the negotiation. What else was she supposed to do?

"Oh, now Miss Overlord uses words!" Spitting out the words, Wen Chao advanced. Xichen stayed as it was, letting the hit land. It momentarily froze him enough for her to get the words out.

"Look, all of you will be in serious trouble if I report this incident. Let go now, and I won't." Slightly breathless, Xichen stated. It was true, they were going to be punished rather harshly if not.

"You think you have grounds to speak!" His eyes were now red with anger, his arm snaking up her hair and yanking it backwards. The action surprised her as much as it pained her. Nobody had ever done such disgusting violence to her. This was beyond humiliating. A soft yelp of 'ah' left her mouth uninvited.

"WEN CHAO," Another voice shouted from somewhere. The grip loosened, and Xichen immediately pushed the boy away - hard enough for him to fall. 

The new voice marched towards the group, accompanied by more frames behind. Oh. That was the Sect Heir of Qinghe Nie. That boy with a permanent frown.

"Mingjue..." Wen Chao's voice was sheepish now. Despite Nie Mingjue being younger by four years, their dispute was quite famous. The one time Wen Chao had attempted to bully Mingjue's younger brother, then 9-year-old Nie Mingjue had struck him with Nie Zongzhu's saber - the closest one he had found. The Saber was a legend among weapons. Only people with truly exceptional capabilities could hold it, and Mingjue had done it at 9 years old. The hit had been way too severe as well, and Wen Chao was rendered to bed rest for near two weeks.

"I warned you that if I ever saw you trouble another again, I will break your legs." Mingjue's voice was loud, authoritative, much louder than how a 10-year-old should sound. 

"We were just playing around, Mingjue. No need for alarm. Wen Chao tried placating, knowing they couldn't stand the ground now. Mingjue was surrounded by a dozen Senior disciples of his Sect. The ones he casually trained with, since he had surpassed the intermediaries there as well.

"The maiden yelled in pain, Wen-gongzi." An older disciple quipped, making Xichen flush red to her roots. She wasn't yelling in pain. She was more surprised than pained.

"Moreover, she is a girl. Have your parents taught you no manners?" Mingjue's voice barked. Xichen appreciated the sentiment; she really did. But saying that wasn't helping her case. When she was trying to pave a path for herself within the man's world. She didn't need Wen Chao or any other arrogant bullheads to think she needed protection because she was a 'girl'. It should be basic courtesy to anyone victimized. Like she was at odds with five to one. It didn't need to be about her sex.

Wen Chao remained silent, probably for the first time in his life. His head was downturned, but his eyes flashed murder. Nie Mingjue had made himself a lifelong enemy, and she as well, by shaming him in public. But Xichen didn't care one bit at the moment.

"Leave, Wen-gonzi. There's no need for you here. We'll be reporting the incident to Lan Qiren Shifu, so be prepared." That same senior disciple dismissed the group of boys. Her Uncle was, after all, notorious for his strict personality and punishments. He knew how to break a person with a few measured tasks like no other.

"Are you well, Lan-guaniang?" A female disciple in the group knelt at her level, adjusting her hair. The softness of that gesture involuntarily made her eyes tear. All of that had been just too much for the day. 

Seeing her teary eyes, the senior disciple softened more. 

"Oh, darling..." Just like what Xiolian-Jie called her that same morning, when she was in the highest of spirits. The root ends of her hair still hurt after being yanked, so the soft brush felt soothing on her abused scalp.

Then, all went back to hell.

Nie Mingjue's hard eyes turned to her.

"Why weren't you doing anything?!" His voice bellowed so loudly that she almost jumped. But it wasn't enough to rattle her just yet.

"What?" Confused, she asked. What did he mean? She was doing everything she could. She calculated the outcome. She was strategic.

"If he was being a freaking prick, yanking your hair, why didn't you hit back?! And talking, NEGOTIATING?? In the middle of a fight? You are an IDIOT!" His voice was fired up. She hadn't offended him. Why was he taking his anger out on her? Sure, he and Wen Chao had history, but he and she didn't. Even if they did, it was no excuse to talk to her this way.

"Nie-gonzi, I'll advise you caution with words," She warned, her voice thin, meeting fire with fire. How dare he insult her? She was STRATEGIC with her mechanisms. It was a chance that Nie's disciples were here. Her method was to leave unscathed without any outside help.

"Advice!? Ah! There you go, a pompous little Huahou! All words, no action. Where was your fire from morning, huh? Your prodigal talent? If you can't stand the violence, you should stay away from the arena!" 

Did he just- 

Did he actually just call her Huahou?!! 

The AUDACITY! 

What was he expecting? All problems to be solved by brute force?!

Without meaning to, Xichen's walls crumbled. Her brows narrowed, openly angry.

"I just advised you of your words, Nie Mingjue." Her voice was getting progressively louder. " And what did you expect me to do? Charge 5 people at once? Compromising my situation further?! Be a Manwang like you? A damn Barbarian?!"

Xichen had never allowed herself to say such coarse words in public. But this air of Nie Mingjue was testing her patience.

Mingjue stood silent for a second, surprised at her outburst. But then he picked up from where he left off.

"So being passive was the way to go?" His voice was infinitely mocking. The older disciples now looked at the two of them as if they were witnessing a duel - a clash of swords, interested but also slightly terrified. Well, Mingjue well and truly screwed up with his choice of words. Passive hit too close to home. Xichen would rather die than be passive at anything.

"Passive? Oh, how naive are you, Nie-gongzi? It's called being strategic, making a plan. Not something I would expect a Brute like you to know." She landed the insult.

Mingjue's nostrils flared in anger. Face turning red.

"A Brute?! Oh, wonderful, Lan-guaniang! Exactly what I would expect of Lan's humility. Way to be gratuitous to the one who just freaking saved you from being a doormat!" His voice was directly in her face. She didn't back down from the intense gaze.

"I never ASKED." She stated, "Nonetheless, I have enough humility in me for gratitude." Finally, clocking on that they were being exceptionally loud and being a spectacle, she flushed. This wasn't her. The Lan Xichen she knew didn't get riled up like this. Calm and composed. Always.

She stepped back. Mingjue's eyes widened with her retreat. Anger was visibly melting down.

Xichen joined her hands and bowed. Low. Deep. Expressing gratitude. To add on to the flair, with a 'Thank you for the aid' and turned and walked away.

All the while thinking what possessed her to be that callous in front of a boy she had just met.

Xichen kept her head down, occasionally smiling at disciples if they did - content to go home and sleep this entire day off. She was exhausted. So exhausted that she had started behaving completely unlike herself at the end. She still couldn't believe her own words.

Oh, Gods! What happened to her?!

Then, as if finally returning to her senses, she started hearing the footsteps. How great, Lan Xichen! You had almost lost your environmental awareness with your explosive fury. What a way to be. She chastised herself.

She didn't want to turn outright. The surprises of the day were enough to last her a month. But then she caught the color of the robe that swished behind her, a few meters away. Black. With yellow lines and even silver. 

Black and Yellow were the colors of Qinghe Nie. Silver lines were markings of status there, as Blue was for them. The only person it could've been was, at this moment...

An auditory 'crunch' sounded behind her. The person immediately trying to hide himself. Despite her own fury, that uncharacteristic uncordial dash made her smile. He was still a child, too, just like her.

"No need to hide, Nie-gonzi. I already saw you," Xichen stated, turning back to a Nie Mingjue who was futilely attempting to hide behind a statue that was placed at the edge of the footpath. He, although 10, was too tall for the statue. It only reached up to Xichen's shoulder.

Sheepish, an expression that Xichen had not seen on him, well, the only thing she saw thus far was unchecked anger after all, he righted himself, his face red, being caught red-handed.

"The residence for Nie Sect was allocated in the North Wing, Nie-gonzi," She informed, subtly layering her statement to question what he was doing in the East Wing, where Lans' residences were built. 

"I am not following you - I mean, I sort of am - but I wanted to make sure you got home safe," He muttered, his eyes downcast. Xichen suddenly felt bashful. Warmth rushed through her. He was here because...he cared?

"That residence is mine," She pointed to her room just 200 meters away, assuring him that she was okay in unspoken words. Minjue looked at the room, nodded with a hint of a smile. He was clearly new to the activity - it was barely an upturn of lips. More like a grimace.

Then, he turned to leave. 

But guilt was gnawing at her chest. Perhaps, it was better to just let it out. End the dispute.

"I apologize, Nie-gonzi. I didn't mean to be rude. I lost my control there. Xichen stood firm, meeting his eyes, showing her sincerity. Mingjue stuttered immediately. As if she shook him to his very core. He was kind of...adorable when he was in awe.

"I-um...I do too, Lan-guaniang. Apologize, I mean" He was clearly no wordsmith. The lack of cohesion in his sentence deduced that much to her. But Xichen liked it that way - the words were more honest when there were no wages played behind them. Even if she was the opposite. Sometimes her words were a sharper weapon than her sword.

"I was out of line in insinuating anything since I wasn't the one who faced the situation. And I shouldn't have lost my temper at you..." He continued. Xichen was prepared with 'It's fine. Let it rest, but Mingjue didn't stop.

"When I saw you, I saw my brother momentarily. He doesn't like fighting as much as words. A-Sang always tried to shift everything back with linguistics. It hardly works in his favor." Mingjue's real intent came out. "When Wen Chao hit him, even though he had a weapon on him, he didn't use it. Trying to fight off with words. That doesn't work in reality as it does in philosophy. So, I drew a parallel" 

Xichen observed him more acutely. His voice, although sounding angry, did have a panicked tone. He was, as tough as he wanted to appear, deeply cared for the people in his life. 

"Our situation wasn't the same, Nie-gonzi. I did that because any other odds were not in my favor." Xichen's voice was soft, understanding of his situation, but also justifying her own.

Mingjue nodded once.

"I deduced as much. Your brother directed us to the place, after all," He has a small, tender smile then. Oh, Wangji. He was probably scared and alarmed enough to ask someone he didn't know to help her out. Especially with the tone of voice she had utilized with him. Nie Mingjue wasn't the only one she needed to apologize to, it seemed.

"Oh," She reacted, slowly. Mingjue just looked at her in slight concern, probably noting her guilt on her face. She still didn't have her mask back on if it meant he read her so well.

But he didn't reach out. Reassurance and comfort were clearly not his strong suit, but him just staying silent, solid-keeping his distance, but still staying, was enough. She was a Lan after all. They were all about nuances.

The silence wasn't as uncomfortable as Xichen hoped it to be, either. She was still angry, especially about his comment on passivity and calling her a 'Huahou' - Empress with words - an understated insultingly polite way to call her all talk, no action. But she was no good either. She knew being called a Mangwang probably hurt him just as much - being called a Barbarian King who's only viewed for Brute Force.

Still, he had come to make sure she was safe. Although they were in her Sect, in her familial surroundings rather than his. Extending an olive branch, she decided to make a teasing statement.

"Thank you for checking up on me, Nie-gonzi. Although we are in my Sect. I roam these grounds on a daily basis, you know." She even allowed her dimpled smile to make an appearance.  

But apparently, Nie Mingjue was allergic to friendly small talk, as his answer made thunder rain down on her expressions, as her eyes hardened again.

"Is that why you were almost ambushed?" His voice was just a mutter, sarcastic, but his voice was also loud. Specially loud to the silent Cloud Recess and Xichen who learnt to be attentive to the smallest sounds at a young age as she had to care for Wangji when they slept together - making sure he didn't choke on his breath when he slept as a baby - when he didn't know how to roll just yet.

Mingjue, though, to his credit, realized his mutter hadn't been a mutter, if his wide eyes were any indication, almost immediately.

Xichen had had enough.

God, he really was so annoying! 

Good riddance for her to attempt at a friendship with a boy with no sentiments!

Xichen, with ice in her tone, wished him 'Goodnight' and speed-walked to her residence. She didn't need any more friendships - if they were all so belittling. Especially not with that Nie Mingjue!

Unconsciously, she slammed the door shut on her wake - the sound echoing in the silence. Her fury was evident in her actions. Her hands were fisted to keep herself in check.

What did he think of her? That she sought out trouble? And victim-blaming?! Seriously?? Even if it was her damn home forte, how was she know some 'esteemed guests' would be pricks with a passion for violence? Who actively thought of active fight as a daily task?!

Behind her, she heard a plate rattle. Still angry, she whirled towards it - almost with a half a mind to throw it across the room. But to her surprise, Wangji was there, adjusting her favorite sweets on the said plate, eyes wide like a frightened baby rabbit when they were spooked too much. Her anger was always restrained. 

Even though Wangji had seen it in the rare instances she had been angry, even she was aware she looked terrifying when she was. It wasn't in her nature to be so, so there was a shock element as well. It was always the quiet ones after all, when their anger was snapped, there would be hell to pay.

But seeing that expression on Wangji, she forced herself to calm down. Her heart hurt. He looked scared of her as much as for her. She didn't like that feeling.

"Wangji~" Her voice softened, and Wangji's tense frame slowly relaxed.

"Can I sit next to you?" She didn't want to bombard his boundaries now, when he had retreated into himself. Wangji, in his own little contempt, took his sweet time to nod his head - almost 40 seconds. Xichen saw through it rather well. She knew Wangji just as much as he knew her. But decided not to comment. She was the one largely at fault - although, if he did listen the first time, it would've been just as well.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, not one to beat around the bush, especially not with her brother. "I did it to make sure your own safety, but it doesn't excuse my tone." 

Wangji finally looked at her. Golden eyes met hers directly. 

"Do you forgive Jiejie?" She said, reaching for his hand. The fact that he didn't take it away was good. A positive reaction. 

Slowly, his imperceptible pout melted away, eyes brightening. Then, with the hand that was not linked in hers, he pushed the sweets to her. Mooncakes. He was apologizing in his own way, wasn't he?

Xichen smiled her dimpled smile at him, accepting his apology as he did hers. His index finger poking the dimple, as he always did, when he was feeling particularly tender, climbing on to her lap - reaching for physical closure.

Xichen wrapped him in her arms. At least she and Wangji were okay.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

In a rather surprising note in her traumatic life, Xichen started the next day with a win. The win streak continuing for 6 days, granting something truly happy for once in her life, concerning her accomplishments.

Her first fight amongst the best 16 had been with someone named Yao Yin (Unoriginal - his father was Yao Yun) - ended as soon as it began.

She, without meaning to, had apparently given her fellow competitors quite the shock in the last day's performance. Because as soon as she started attacking, Yin almost started running away, despite being 12 already, one of the oldest in the Novel category. Then, after the second or third hit landed, he was done. 

To his credit, though, the Yao Sect wasn't particularly...blessed with Combat Cultivation - their main focus was on Spiritual energy. And the truth in the Cultivation World was, as glum and political as it was, that the Primary Five Sects - also called the 'Great Five Sects', trained their disciples in a way unmatched. Unattainable by any other mediocre Sect. And she was the Heir on one Primary Sect and Gusu Lan at that - the unofficial Seminary of the Sects. Especially in battle strategy and philosophy.

So, no. It wasn't at all surprising that the bout ended as it did, despite Yin's best attempts. He was honestly better than Xichen thought he would be. Thus, in extension of her respect, when he fell, officially making her the winner, she gave him her arm for him to stand. A sign of solidarity and mutual appreciation. 

And the boy who had not smiled the entire bout, smiled at that, bowing to her. The Yao Sect was clearly impressed by her treatment of the boy. 

Her Shufu's proud smile at the gesture told her that now, she had the first unsolicited Sect that was rooting for her, ready to stand by her Leadership when required. 

The rest of the battle days went similarly. 

Of course, some cultivators didn't like the fact that they were bested by a 'girl'. Some walking away without a prompt or some bold ones (stupid) literally snapping her offered hand away, hissing like alley cats, malnourished for three weeks. Xichen took all that in stride. It was nothing she was unused to.

On good news, though, she had at least 5 separate Sects with trust and faith in her (future) Leadership.

And she was not bone tired for the most part. Except for one or two mud stains on the edges of her robes, they were also in pristine condition every day. Her jade hairpin, still intact and now ready to be weaponized if needed. She learnt from Yuxin-Jie when she dressed her the immediate morning after that disastrous encounter.

More than anything, she didn't glimpse the Wen Sect or the Nie Sect on all 6 days. Or most likely, they kept away from her.

The colossal brain-dead reptiles of the Wen Sect probably had to spend an entire night in the punishment chamber reciting and recording all the rules they broke, which was, if her count was right, 15 (she was always right) - each 200 times for good measure.

She felt slightly bad for Wen Chao's sidekicks. They didn't look all that enthused for the fight that day, but for Wen Chao, as much as she tried to suppress it, all she felt was glee, with the thought 'good riddance' iterating inside her mind.

It wasn't good as a practicing Lan disciple. But nobody knew her mind if she didn't verbalize it. So, it was fine. 

Or so she justified.

And the Nie Sect was situated at the other arena anyway for their own bouts. 

Usually, the Sect Advancement Festival Competitions were held in two separate arenas. The Lan had their massive practice ground that was neatly divided into two sections this time with a wall of talisman that made each section both invisible and inaudible to the other, without compromising the podium itself.

So, all the high-class senior cultivators and those who didn't participate in the competition had a view on both sides, while competitors themselves were in complete darkness. It was to make the situation even more high-stakes than it usually was. So that when it comes to the final 10 cultivators of each category, everything felt novel - no one could have analyzed any moves. Simply because they never saw the fights happening in the other arena.

Each category - Novel, Intermediate, and Senior was allowed 06 hours in the Arena in pre-decided rounds. Each category lasting 40 shi each - hence the seven-day battle streak - and each player nearly three shi each for every 10-minute bout they had. This time, amongst the pairings in two sections - typically known as Yi(1) and Er(2) sections - 50 Sects were filtered in each. And amongst the Five Great Sects: Jiang, Nie, and Jin had fallen into the Yi section while Lan and Wen fell for the Er section. 

It didn't matter at the end of the day. The best 10 competitors of each category were chosen by both Sections. Deciding the Ultimate Champion with fairness. The two sections were only to make the process much more efficient and time-friendly.

Xichen had only seen a few Intermediary rounds, which started at 6 shi each morning and ended in midday. Since from midday to the 6th hour of the night was their own category. From then on until the 12th hour was the Senior rounds. Xichen saw more of the Senior rounds than the Intermediary rounds. Because by the time Intermediary rounds were progressing, she was likely preparing herself for hers.

Cloud Recess had deliberately chosen the time frames, since Novel disciples needed to be ingrained with Sect rules, as they were relatively new to them. Intermediate was somewhat better with more experience, and Senior disciples were completely off the hook of any sleeping arrangements for the duration of the festival. Xichen, despite her less-than-positive attitude toward the Council, did agree that it was a good plan, securing both Lan principles and progressing the fights at an orderly pace.

They were on the 7th day, the final day of the Sectional rounds, before the 10 best competitors were to face off each other. Xichen had already won 14 rounds and had made a name for herself within the community. All the voices that previously mocked her had been shut up for a few days. Giving her smiles and genuinely respectful bows (although half-hearted). But she was still far from the goal. Now, she was assured she was already in the top 10, but she wanted to be among the best 4, where status and recognition spread like a forest fire, and who would be granted the privilege of night hunts almost immediately after.

Some of her moves - especially her strategy of side-stepping or exhausting the enemy before the temporary paralysis - had already been talked about. Wangji was almost always supporting a bright expression on his face now, although hardly anyone could tell. But she could. She saw his pride with vivid clarity, and she had been in high spirits every time she glimpsed that adorable expression.

Wei Wuxian was also increasingly getting on her good books. As mischievous as the boy was, he really was a sweet one. He had decided on his loyalty to her on the first bout, and he hadn't missed a single match of hers just yet - even when their Jiang counterpart was competing on the other Arena. His support was loud and bright among many vacant faces who wanted her to fall. Yanli stood right there with him in her own proud smile, clapping hard. Even the small Jiang Heir, Wanyin, had started cheering her on at random intervals. 

They were...friends, almost. Or allies at least. Xichen was already fond of the Jiangs.

But her high spirits came crashing down with the final match. For all her brilliance, she probably should've known the last competitor for her was going to be Wen Zhuliu. The only one left. But she made the connection only when the bout was announced.

And certainly because her luck was unparalleled, really - perhaps that Shaman who said she had misfortune written on her fate was right, after all - he was the only other person in her section with 14 wins under his belt.

It was the ultimatum, it seemed. Her days of happiness tunneling into this very amusing but dreadful last moment.

She saw the entirety of the Wen Sect filtering into the arena. Wen Chao amongst the first row - already having secured his place amongst the top 10 in his own category, although allegedly, he had lost rather humiliatingly to Ruiwen-Xiong, when her Shixiong had cooped his own little riot for what he did to her by letting him stew for more than necessary. For good measure, Ruiwen-Xiong had 'accidentally' yanked Wen Chao's own hair. But when Yichen-Xiong narrated the incident to her with secret smiles, Xichen was told that Ruiwen-Xiong had winked at her Shufu. And Shufu, honest to Gods, had raised his teacup in validation of the action.

As much as Xichen tried not to laugh at that pettiness, she had snorted when Ruiwen-Xiong had winked at her when saying how 'apologetic' he was for that unethical behavior. 

The Sect Advancement Festival had done at least that correct. She had a whole plethora of next-generation Lan disciples with absolute loyalty to her as the Sect Heir. And as Xichen, she had a group of friends that she was ready to die for without hesitation. 

She saw Wen Zhuliu prepping himself alone while Wen Chao was buzzing in his ear like an annoying bee. Useless as always. If Xichen were Wen Zhuliu, even if she had the patience, she would not be able to stay near Wen Chao on principle. And if he was as frustrating as he was when she met him drunk...the boy would be dead in a ditch somewhere.

Xichen usually had the patience of a saint; her years of antagonism had honed that about her, but in her quiet fury, she wouldn't deem murder wholly unacceptable.

Even as Wen Chao was babbling like a person who had just discovered words, Wen Zhuliu's eyes were fixed on her. 

It was true that Xichen had not seen him for the past 6 days, but she knew he had been here, fighting, no, terrorizing their fellow competitors. His silent expressions, utterly blank, even to her who was so versed in Wangji's own brand of silence, were deeply unsettling.

It was possibly because Wangji, even in his silence, looked so alive, bright. But Wen Zhuliu simply didn't. He looked like a kite whose strings had been cut - lost, ignorant. It was a pathetic reality that made Xichen actually pity his plight as much as she pitied her own.

She still had a family here and friends. Who did he have?

But none of that pathos was going to do her any good inside the ring. Wen Zhuliu was infamously ruthless. He had broken a rib of a fellow competitor in his 12th bout and had kept going as if the fight hadn't already ended. Wei Wuxian had told her in a very exaggerated storytelling, although she said that she didn't need to know.

Finally, to get him out of breaking not only his own words at the start of Festival to not to depart any knowledge to any competing participants but also her own integrity, Jiang Wanyin had slapped his head and dragged him away from her, profusely apologizing with a "Lan-guaniang, I apologize for him. He was probably dropped way too much on his head as a baby. Nor had he developed a brain in his stay with us" in rapid succession.

Xichen had bit back on her giggle when Wuxian, while being thoroughly insulted by his Shidi, had not blinked an eye while shouting "I BELIEVE IN YOU, LAN-GUANIANG!" 

That meeting ended with her asking them to call her Xichen-jie or Jie-Zhang if they wanted. Wanyin, being a boy who was raised with somewhat decorum, had resorted to the more formal Jie-zhang, what you would typically call a senior female apprentice, while Wuxian, with all the passion of a feral cat, had called her 'XICHEN-JIE' at the top of his voice.

This alliance was mostly temporary, as Xichen knew. They would not meet each other so often. And by next visit, she would go back to being Lan-guaniang, or if she was lucky, Jie-Zhang, but it felt happy to indulge themselves sometimes. Before Sect Politics crash into them unbidden. Making them hide behind false masks and pretentious smiles. 

And if she somehow achieved a title like Yichen-Xiong did, it would be beneath anyone apart from her own Sect to address her with anything but that or her official title of Sect Heir.

She was gearing up for a rather lonely life, wasn't she? 

But this was a necessary need. Not just for her, but for any prominent woman in the cultivation world.

Wuxian often complained about Yu Ziyuan's anger and strict discipline, but perhaps they were warranted. Certainly not to the extent that she was inflicting on the boy, but Xichen suspected there might be more than what meets the eye there, considering he was the only disciple of the Jiang Sect who grew up within the Primary Family without being blood related. Xichen had heard some interesting rumors, but she would wait.

Besides, Yanli had been quite hushed on the subject, gently reprimanding her A-Xian to not 'bother' Xichen when Xichen already knew it was a polite way to say 'Shut up before any sensitive information is disclosed'. But Yanli's reprimand was such that Wuxian, even without understanding, just stopped talking about family altogether. After all, both her brothers seemingly worshipped the ground Yanli walked on. 

It was quite wholesome.

But Wuxian's observations about Zhuliu at large were not a complete ramble. Xichen knew of his right hand, as any educated participant should. But she wouldn't have guessed on the slightest impact draining energy. Yet Wuxian's exclamations told her that she was in for way more than she thought she was.

Besides, she knew for a fact Wen Zhuliu had probably heard all about her own techniques. Wen Chao was dead set on making her lose. Not that it would really help in the long process - she was already in the top 10 - but it would be a benchmark on the Lan vs Wen battle he had started and escalated. That boy was confusing enough for her. Stupid enough to target a Lan disciple (The formally declared Sect Heir at that) inside CLOUD RECESS and stupider enough to make a spectacle out of it. 

Not one person in that audience now was ignorant of what transpired between them and the fact that Wen Chao was out for blood in the form of his very loyal guard dog. 

Xichen just knew that Wen Zhuliu's ears were now filled with just demands of bruising and beating her up so bad that she would be on bedrest for days.

Well, the bout is 10 minutes. Let's see how that demand would hold.

But that didn't fully dissipate the fear that started to course through within her. Perhaps even more so than with the dead spiral she took with Yichen-Xiong. At that moment, she knew he didn't want to hurt her, and neither did she have the pressure of being under the scrutiny of 100 Sects and its leaders and all the Heirs from Yi(1) to Shi(10). Besides, she was prepared to lose then... no one expected the win.

Here, the stakes were much higher.

Except for the slight notes that Wuxian probably didn't realize for notes, Xichen had nothing on her opponent. Her integrity hadn't allowed her the easier path. Although technically open communication with bystanders was allowed, it was an ethical rule for every participant not to divulge information regarding the competition.

Whatever Wen Sect thought about ethics was questionable at best, but Xichen wasn't about to compromise her own morality to test that. She was a Lan, and she was proud of that fact even though it had made her life as difficult as it could be. But it was more due to the veterans with tradition imprinted on them like the Holy words of Gods than anything to do with her Sect. 

Gusu Lan and Cloud Recess were her home. All she had known. Her Sect was revered in her heart because if one excludes those old goats, it was filled with purity and warmth with the best of people and the most serene sense of peace. 

In spite of being denied again and again, Xichen wanted to lead Gusu Lan for the exact same reason. She loved it with all her heart.

As to the reason why she couldn't let her Sect down. Especially not when Wen Chao, the second heir to Wen Sect, had so openly called a challenge. In reality, it would have no political impact, but the social impact just might be astronomical. 

Wen Zhuliu entered the Arena with the menace of a caged wolf. At 11, he was daunting than some of the most prominent members in the Senior Sect. But Xichen steeled herself. She was too...in her own way. Though she usually looked like a baby duck with an unintentional sword thrust upon her hands. 

Before even the Gong sounded, Wen Chao was yelling discrepancies. As expected. Xichen tuned him out. Her main strategy focusing on maneuvering. She was not as high in spiritual energy as Wen Zhuliu - not yet. She can't afford to let his hand contact her body and drain what was left.

They slowly started circling each other, two predators waiting for the perfect opening.

Her eyes started to assess his form. Stealthy and light on his feet than the usual Wen practice. For a change that had thankfully evaded her thus far, now she was at a disadvantage. Wen Zhuliu had his birth roots just as much as Wen. The birth roots of Yuan she'd only read in books. Sure, they weren't fighters of great notice. But they still probably had some cards up their sleeves. Her opponents' frame was all the more proof for it.

Meanwhile, he had studied Lan forms already, and in that, though she was a good one, she wasn't special. Her forms were the same. No surprise element there. Wen Zhuliu had also been in the top three contestants last year at the festival held in Lotus Pier, as Xiaolian-Jie mentioned as an offhand remark. She definitely was not up against an easy opponent.

Xichen's focus sharpened. She had to be in the best form. She had no alternative.

She noticed his practice sword, held in his left arm. Was he ambidextrous? Xichen knew for a fact that his more dominant hand was the right - he wrote and ate in that. Was he trained specifically in the left so his right hand would purposefully be free for his golden core attacks? 

Well, he might as well have carried two swords then. It would still be better than this. Xichen felt momentarily bad for all his previous opponents.

Then, her eyes zeroed in on the weirdest detail. His right arm was a mess of small scars. Not from practice - she knew those. But they looked deliberate. Almost patterned. What the -

Without thought, Zhuliu attacked - fast and hard. Xichen was already prepared, meeting the attack with the sword and lying heavily on his left. His right hand was already placed like a claw, trying to touch her, but she distanced herself.

Perhaps, she should've asked about Jin techniques. They were all about distance.

For the next couple of minutes, it was a clash of swords. Zhuliu, with the most expressionless eyes, but slight grunts, was trying to narrow the space, and Xichen was widening it at every turn. She needed a strategy to get her to face his back. 

Vaguely, she realized they were both running out of time - the audience now leaning on the edge of their seats. Wen Chao was probably hanging off the arena markers like a blood sucking leech.

She had to do something, and it had to be now. But unfortunately, it seemed Zhuliu had the same idea simultaneously.

He closed the distance, and even if her response had been timely, flipping herself over his head in a clean arc so his back was to her, she realized the moment that his right hand touched her elbow, since immediately, she felt the loss of qi energy.

Get him down now, Xichen! She probably had all of 2 seconds. 

With all the strength she could muster, she set off a series of kicks at his Wei Zhong - the back of his knee - rendering his legs paralyzed momentarily, and he fell to his knees. Even as she was also in dire need of a seat, the slight wobble of her steps evident, her wooden sword hilt met the base of his neck, rendering him trapped.

Three seconds where Wen Zhuliu tried to get up, but then..

The Gong!

She had won!

Xichen heard the cheers as well as the curses at the moment. But none of them really registered in her mind. Her only thought was to leave the Arena and regulate her energy so she wouldn't feel like she was melting into a puddle.

Out of sheer habitual practice, and sincere respect for the talent she was encountered with, Xichen stretched out her arm to Wen Zhuliu to help him stand. Suddenly, the voices started quietening. And Wen Zhuliu, despite his reputation, looked at her with actual emotion for once. Puzzlement. Surprise. 

His dark orbs shook inside his eyes for a bit as if the action moved something within him. But he didn't take the extended hand. 

Waiting three more seconds to get mobility back onto his legs, he got up with the help of the sword, indifferent to her aid.

Oh, well, then. She took her arm back sheepishly. Although he was surprised, perhaps he still held some animosity. 

But that thought itself vanished from her brain when Zhuliu turned towards her and just looked. Stared. As if seeing her for the first time. His gaze wasn't predatory but observing. Yet Xichen still felt like she was being hunted. As if he was seeing right through her every layer. Her light smile of an armor.

Then, in a shocking astonishment, he inclined his head, gaze downwards. Bowing. To her. And only to her was it visible. His downturned gaze told her that the action was genuine. 

He...respected her.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he left the Arena, freezing her in place. How fortunate that she was taught to conceal her expressions as soon as she started to walk, because if her shock was visible, the audience would've gone into a frenzy.

Xichen, almost in a haze, left for her own Sect, letting the other matches commence. Wangji tapped the towel on her sweating face, and Yichen-Xiong, pressing qi-energy to her wrist, had accurately deduced that she had received a hit despite her best effort. Both Xiaolian-Jie and Yuxin-Jie were exuberant - their high energies perfectly complemented Ruiwen-Xiong's exaggerated depiction of Xichen's win. 

Looking at them and laughing - real and sound - Xichen felt truly at home.

But that moment was immediately shattered by the sound of a slap. All their heads turned, synchronized, towards the noise. 

Wen Chao was slapping Wen Zhuliu over the head in rapid succession. Hard. Enough to hurt Xichen, who was standing 6 meters away. She hoped someone would intervene - Zhuliu was also amongst the top 10, still having enough chance to win the competition if needed. Their bout only finished at the 8th minute, meaning Zhuliu had truly had a very fair chance of winning. Xichen had just been relatively fortunate with timing. 

But considering the abuse Wen Chao was inflicting on the poor boy, one would be inclined to think that Wen Zhuliu had killed Wen Chao's mother in cold blood. 

None of the Wen disciples intervened. Although most certainly looked uncomfortable, some even wincing with every increasingly hard hit. Xichen briefly wondered about Wen Zhuliu's own passivity. Wen Chao was a good fighter, despite his many unbecoming qualities. Yet, Wen Zhuliu could literally affect the very core of that power. Why was he so still?

Yet even as she mused, Xichen knew. Wen Zhuliu's passivity was for his birth Sect just as much as for himself. Wens did save them. They owed their life to the Wen Sect. 

Suddenly, the thought connected the dots to his strange actions. Zhuliu did look surprised at her action of offering her hand. But he didn't take it out of respect for her.

How was she so blind?

His left hand was still clutching the sword. And if he had grabbed her with his right, she would've fallen next to him. He had rejected the offer not because he wanted to, but because he had respected her enough as an opponent to let her bask in her win. Proud and tall.

Coincidentally, Zhuliu's eyes locked with hers. Still unreadable. But there was more to him than what met the eye. Even if it didn't, nobody deserved to be treated in such a way after an exhilarating bout - an exemplary one at that. If Wens were going to be passive, Xichen could be active. At least for the sake of the opponent who graciously allowed her absentmindedness to pass, being merciful of her rash decision.

Xichen walked towards the Wens without hesitation - Zhuliu's eyes still locked on hers, widening at her every step, despite the protests of her own companion.

Wen Chao was still busy being a massive prick, but the rest of the Wen Disciples went still at her appearance.

"Wen-gonzi," she spoke, having had enough.

Wen Chao went rigid, as predicted, turning to her slowly. In his hands was a small butterfly cutter - sharp, edges glinting. But she noticed the pattern immediately. 

Those cuts. Those cuts on Wen Zhuliu's arm. This was the weapon that inflicted them on him. A memoir of all his defeats, all his mistakes.

Xichen felt rage bubbling within her. How barbaric were these practices!

"Wen-gonzi," She started again. " I would hope you respect the decorum of the fights. Wen Zhuliu was impressive. There is no need to punish him for attempting his best."

Wen Chao's face went red. His arms were shaking beside him. If they had not been in the public eye, Xichen was sure that those hands would've been around her neck, choking her to death. But as it turned out, they were in public. And this was Xichen's minefield.

"YOU-" Wen Chao still attempted - voice completely drenched in anger. Xichen had no time for idiocy.

"Perhaps you should even be thankful." She interrupted. " His exemplary behavior would have saved your Sect's face than if had he defeated me with illegal means. He made no mistakes."

Pointedly looking at the blade on his arm, Xichen finished, eyes cold and direct, telling him in not-so-many words that she knew exactly what she was talking about.

When she risked a glance at Wen Zhuliu, there was a surprising moisture in his eyes as he looked at her. Xichen felt bad for the boy. Was kindness so foreign to him? She wished for him to find his peace to the best of his capabilities.

"And if you are so intent on marking defeats and mistakes, Wen-gonzi - " her attention turned back to Wen Chao, who looked a little pale at her insinuation of her knowledge. It was a malpractice to treat any subordinates in such an animalistic manner. Xichen could effectively ruin his reputation within the Cultivation world. Although...she doubted whether Wen Chao had one to begin with. One enough to be ruined. 

" - start by marking your own. Your idiocy was what brought on such contempt within you, not mine. The punishment you received, the humiliation - they were all your doing. I'd suggest a visible cut, where it would remind you to stay within your limitations, to pay attention to your words. Since it is explicitly clear that you were your own doom here, not any of your disciples." With the final word, she turned to leave, petrifying them with her words.

"Oh, and one more thing, Wen-gonzi. Now that I know, you might want to stop the... practices you've been clinging to. If I hear anything to the contrary, I'll not hesitate to show how truly words can overpower your illusion of strength."

With her own bow, visible to the plain audience, at Zhuliu, who hurriedly bowed back, hiding his tear-filled eyes and not bothering to extend the same courtesy to Wen Chao, she left- her robes swishing behind her. She hoped that at least a single word had been retained in that stupid pea brain, for the sake of all, including him.

The next day came with a sense of serenity. After fighting straight for 7 days, the cultivators finally had a mid-break before launching into the 10 best Cultivators of each category. To her absolute delight and, as well to no surprise, both Ruiwen-Xiong and Yichen-Xiong had advanced in their separate categories as the representatives of their Sect. Yichen-Xiong had every chance of winning. Again. Although Wen Xu, who had been in the Intermediary category last year and was now in the Senior category, was apparently coming close. 

Wen Xu was unlike Wen Chao, despite both of them having more demeaning qualities than redeeming ones.

But in contrast, Wen Xu was calculated, a true predator, not a wannabe like Wen Chao. The Heir of the Chief Cultivator Wen Ruohan. He had the same unsettling look as Wen Zongzhu in his face, as if he had already murdered you 17 times in 17 different ways. Xichen felt quite uncomfortable under his scrutiny. But Yichen-Xiong had gently smiled with a pat on her head when she told him that, saying Wen Xu was all that and more, but he was too. There was no need to fear at all.

Meanwhile, in Ruiwen-Xiong's category, the win would most probably be secured by the Jiang Disciple participating.

Jiang Ruqiu was in a league of his own - already the named head disciple of the Sect at only 16. He was the one teaching Jiang Wanyin as well, apparently. The boy was a walking class of unpredictability and tact. Wuxian had told her he was the greatest Shixiong there as well. She can just imagine Wuxian one day surpassing Ruqiu, though - more mischievous, more observant - just more in good and bad. Jiang Zongzhu will have a great time with his adopted son, Xichen thought, chuckling to herself.

Meanwhile, in hers, Jin Zixuan and Nie Mingjue had been dominating the other Section she wasn't privy to. Mingjue had won against all other competitors in under 5 minutes, including Zixuan.

Wanyin had narrated that one incident in which his Baxia (the saber) had struck the earth with such force that the opponent had fainted at the impact and hadn't gotten up for 4 hours despite healing. Nie Saber spirits were famous, and Mingjue's Baxia was in a league of its own.

But for a 7-year-old, Jin Zixuan hadn't been all bad either. He had secured 14/15 wins. Jiang representative follows closely behind with 13/15. It was obvious that, as in all years, the first five places would probably be the Great Five Sects in each category. 

Xichen shook herself off her musings. Today was to have fun. To relax. No more battle talk.

Wangji had been suffering alongside her inside the Arena for the last 7 days despite her many protests of asking him to stay at home or at the library, one of his favorite places. But he had refused ardently, waiting on the sidelines for her every day. She owed him her time even if he didn't ask for it.

Besides, when she suggested they visit the rabbits and make a little excursion out of it near the Waterfall, his eyes had lit up with such pure radiance that Xichen had immediately known it was the correct choice. Even if her muscles protested her to sleep.

Wangji's love for rabbits was at such a high capacity that she had once asked him who he would choose to save if they were in a burning house. The little menace had taken 30 seconds to choose, although she knew he had been teasing when she saw his tiny bunny teeth peeking with his soft smile. Then, as if it was nothing, he had pointed to her with a declaration of 'You' and continued to play with the rabbits, concentrating on placing tiny forehead ribbons mirroring their own on them. Xichen had been so fond that she had smooched him all over the face until he had started giggling. 

That memory itself brought such comfort to her that she knew definitely that the place was the right choice.

But her traitorous mouth had belied the information to Ruiwen-Xiong just the same, and Xialon-Jie and Yuxin-Jie, always glued to the hip, had 'overheard' and Yichen-Xiong, fearing what sort of ruckus the combined energy would be up to, had decided to be their unofficial bystander. So, the excursion that was supposed to be just Xichen and Wangji had turned into at least 20 more Lan disciples just like that.

Xichen didn't mind. Nor did Wangji, if his quiet smile was anything to go by. For all his stoicism, he loved to be pampered, and all their elder disciples did just that - bringing him milk sweets and helping him with his head ribbons. He was too adorable to deny. 

Xichen almost got jealous at times, but Wangji never actively touched anybody, certainly never snuggled. She was still his number one. Besides, the Elder Disciples indulged her just as much. It felt like a friend's outing.

Specially considering no other Sect disciples were allowed. Unless they were students at Cloud Recess. Currently, the last batch has already departed, and no new batch has been accepted. The place was just for them.

Wangji had brought with him his favorite book - a guide to the care of rabbits. Scrolling through the pages in one hand and petting his rabbits, all the same with another at a shade. Xichen had too much adrenaline for that after 7 days of fighting. So, she decided to join whatever silly play Ruiwen-Xiong had going on. She was good with strategy, but not with these games they played for fun. But that fact never took out the entertainment from it. It felt good to laugh out loud.

At random intervals, Wangji came to her to ask the meaning or the pronunciation of a word he didn't know. But other than that, the day was peaceful. Xichen wanted to freeze the moment in time. It was rare she ever got to this carefree. This content.

But that didn't last very long. 

While Xichen was laughing at something Xiaolian-Jie was narrating - of an incident where Yuxin-Jie had broken a boy's entire ego with nothing but her hairpin - she heard the soft 'ah' from the shade. As ridiculously attuned as she was to Wangji, she immediately turned.

"Wangji?" Her voice was a question. The group all turned to face her brother. Wangji was slightly flushed in frustration, mildly glaring at a number of flowers on his page. Xichen deduced what happened. One had hit him in the eye.

Upon closer look, Xichen also realized something. Wangji was seated under a Plum Blossom tree, but most of the flowers there were still buds. Certainly not enough to bloom bright pink like the ones on Wangji's lap. Then, for a fraction of a second, Xichen saw the flash of purple on top of the tree. And involuntarily, her lips tugged into a grin. Oh, that tiny troublemaker...

"Wangji, come here," She invited. The flash of purple was again there. Xichen bit her lip to keep herself from grinning. Apparently, Ruiwen-Xiong had also seen it - his laughing face immediately melting into a serious expression, eyes settling and focused. It was slightly unnerving to see all his soft expressions go stoic at the slightest alarm like that, but she knew him. He was concerned.

Wangji trotted to her, dropping next to her. Ruiwen-Xiong motioned to Yichen-Xiong as they got up to investigate the tree. Wangji leaned more into her warmth, his red ears saying he also probably saw the flash of purple making Xichen snort aloud. Wangji looked at her with slight admonishment - an exact mirror of their Shufu, making her laugh even harder. 

Seeing her amusement, Ruiwen-Xiong and Yichen-Xiong exchanged confused glances. As if to say, 'What happened to Xichen? Is she okay? '. Their collective expressions were doing nothing but increasing her amusement further.

With a slight ruffle to Wangji's hair and discarding her robe from his tantalizing grip, which all but screamed 'Stay', Xichen walked towards the tree, her Shixiongs close by her steps.

"Wei-gonzi, why don't you come down now?"

Xichen ended up calling Yanli to the waterfall garden that was supposed to exclusively be Lan territory, all because Wei Wuxian, now slightly afraid of his fate (Where was it when he sneaked into the garden? Xichen thought fondly), as he was appropriately intimidated by her Shixiongs. Although Xichen assured them they were the gentlest and nicest boys she knew, Wuxian had started screaming bloody murder the moment Yichen-Xiong attempted to get him out of the tree.

Xichen, as ridiculous as it was, had started laughing again at that. For a second, Wei Wuxian had looked at her transfixed and then declared that she had the 'prettiest smile', making her laugh yet again. 

Her laugh only heightened when Wuxian, in all his childish curiosity, had asked whether Lan Zhan looked just as pretty. Her brother's entire face had been tomato red at that. All the Senior Disciples there simultaneously covering their mouths to keep the giggle in bay. In a true Wei Wuxian fashion, the child had gone a step above and declared that Lan Zhan would be 'heavenly' since he was already the 'prettiest person'.

Xichen might have already been planning a future, but there was no need for anyone else to know.

Jiang Yanli had arrived swiftly, concern and fear on her face, visible as day. Xichen never understood such nakedness in expressions. She had never allowed herself them, never had the luxury to be so.

"Lan-guaniang, is A-Xian okay?" She was as distressed as an older sister could be at the mention of her brother being found in a restricted area. Xichen had reached out to placate her worry, asking her group of Lan disciples to direct themselves away so Wei Wuxian would be more comfortable. Of course, Wangji stayed as he was. 

Xichen again hid a smile. He was attentive now, wasn't he?

Before she could reassure Yanli, though, Wei Wuxian had made his presence known with a screamed 'SHIJIE!'. That's when Xichen knew that, although a good climber, Wuxian had no idea how to scale down from a tree. She had bit her lip not to laugh at the boy when Yanli literally climbed the tree just to get him back.

Xichen would've offered - or any of their Senior Disciples. But the tiny miscreant was already scared. Xichen shook her head, so fond of this liveliness.

"I apologize, Lan-guaniang." Yanli bowed deeply, Wuxian following her actions with a sniffling nose. A few meters away, Wangji huffed, looking away with all his theatrics. Xichen was in deep danger of dying because she had been concealing her laughter for way too long.

But thankfully, her composure remained intact when she assured that it was of no consequence to both of them. Yet her heart intent on being an older sibling, hurt watching the little guy sniffle, wiping snot away, clearly embarrassed and overwhelmed.

Just for good measure, she had fisted him a sweet, lowering herself to his level. Not that there was much to lower. She was only 8, and Wuxian, nearly 6, was quite tall for his age.

"Hey, Wuxian~" She patted his head, like she did to Wangji. On cue, another huff was heard behind her. Her Wangji could be really possessive of things at times. She was his Jiejie, after all. Xichen ignored the smile that etched across her lips at his stubbornness for the moment.

"It's alright. You won't be punished. We won't speak of this again." 

At that, Wuxian looked at her with big grey eyes, trembling. It melted her heart at the innocent expression.

"I- just-I wanted to give Lan Zhan something. He never smiles." His quiet admission ripped through her heartstrings. He was so adorable. And good...pure.

Xichen risked a glance at her own brother, seeing him flushing even violently. But he didn't turn his head. Of course, he didn't. He was her Wangji. He was never good with communication.

"Thank you for looking out for him," Xichen directed to Wuxian. He leaned in closer. Xichen saw Yanli's expression mirroring her own tenderness.

"I think he hates me. He always glares at me," Wuxian whispered in a furious whisper, clutching her sleeve. Xichen could feel the hysterical laughter bubbling up within her. Hate- oh, sweet boy, you are so far off. 

"He doesn't, trust me," Xichen stated even as she could feel Wangji's betrayed expression at her back. Well, sorry, Wangji, but lying was forbidden in Cloud Recess - she thought slightly smug.

"But do not make this a habit, alright? I might just have to report this next time." She gently reprimanded, Wuxian nodding his head up and down with a bright smile, now that he was finally off the hook.

"Besides, you'll probably be learning together at Cloud Recess one day. He'll be your friend then. Wangji wants time to warm up to anyone new," she explained, Wuxian's curious eyes absorbing her every word. Then finally, he nodded, serious, with a firm look of fierce determination, so unfamiliar in that mischievous face that Xichen had to laugh.

"Don't worry, Xichen-jie. I'll be there with Lan Zhan at every step. I'll take care of him."

A solemn promise. With sincerity that only children were capable of. Xichen smiled her best smile, with her happy dimple.

"Okay, you do that." With a final tap on his head, she straightened. Bowing when Yanli started leading Wuxian outside the garden. Even if those grey eyes still sought after Wangji's gold, they were still very intently focused on his book.

Oh, dear Gods! Xichen almost cooed.

Then, just to mess with Wangji, she opened her mouth again.

What? She was the big sister. She needed her fun too.

As if sensing her next move, Wangji turned to her, eyes narrowing, a clear warning in his pouty annoyance. But she just winked at him. She only had these chances once in a while.

"Wei-gonzi!" Her voice called out, and Wei Wuxian's attention turned to her, even Yanli's.

"Wangji likes peonies better!"

On cue, all her Senior disciples burst into giggles, as did Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian looked at her with wide eyes of surprise and then melted into the most sly grin she had ever seen on anyone.

"I'll remember Lan-guaniang. Thank you!!" 

When Xichen finally looked back at Wangji, he was openly glaring at her - even his neck now a violent red, his eyes murderous for a five-year-old. At that, Xichen's hidden laughter exploded, echoing throughout the space.

It really was a good day.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

The next morning, it was back to the arena—the final three days of the Sect Advancement Festival. Xichen didn't get to fight in the morning. The entire morning was reserved for the Intermediary Category, where Ruiwen-Xiong was partaking. And Xichen had to start at midday as usual.

After the excursion, he had dragged Yichen-Xiong to the Arena to run drills again. Xichen always thought Ruiwen-Xiong lived a relatively carefree life, having a positive outlook on life, but the moment she saw him practice, all that changed. For all his 'self-love' talk of getting adequate rest and plenty of sleep and whatnot, the man didn't practice what he preached. 

Yichen-Xiong hadn't even questioned his younger brother at his demands, going harder and harder until Ruiwen-Xiong literally dropped his sword, hand trembling in exhaustion, but the happy smile on his face assured her that his nerves were all placated. Xichen had watched them for nearly two hours, just going back and forth.

Wangji hadn't stayed with her for the first half, annoyed and angry at her for telling the 'loud' boy his favorite flowers. Xichen had said sorry, but they both knew she really wasn't. So Wangji had glared at her and left her by herself, only to return an hour later and nap at her side. 

For all his theatrics, he was still uncomfortable sleeping all alone in their room. Xichen wanted to make a quip but decided to be the bigger person when he, in what he thought was a stealthy fashion, crouched near her and finally rested his head on her shoulder, and slept. She had again carried him to bed, but except for the small drawing of her on her table, Wangji didn't speak of the incident. Still mad, apparently. Xichen didn't particularly care. He was already coming around if he drew something for. Her little drama lord.

Ruiwen-Xiong was still the most flamboyant Lan she knew, but in contrast to other Disciples, she saw how he was much more disciplined. And his gentle optimism was not because he had no real burdens but because he didn't let them get to him. He still laughed, joked, and ruffled her hair when he went past after every fight, but his smile never slipped. 

Xichen found that all the more admirable. Because of his smile, it wasn't an armor like hers - or a forced practice. But real, yet no less strong. 

Xichen was really so proud of her people.

At the end of the last round, when Ruiwen-Xiong clearly had his fun by exasperating his opponent enough for him to make rather obvious mistakes and won within three minutes to the round, he was at the top 4, alongside Jiang Ruqiu (The one with the highest probability of winning), Nie Zonghui and rather unfortunately, Wen Chao.

Xichen almost thought better of the boy when fighting. He was good. But then immediately, she took her words back when he started behaving in the tackiest manner known to man - bragging and dissing every opponent he defeated in the category. She saw how all three other cultivators within the top 4 looked at him then, with heavy eye rolls. Jiang Ruqiu even 'tsk'ed audibly, showing his displeasure.

Wuxian was right. Ruqiu was easy to like.

She didn't wait around for the official announcements, though, hurriedly giving her Shixiong a pat on the back and leaving to get herself ready.

Next up was her Category!

Had Xichen mentioned how unbelievably unhinged her luck was? Because if not, this would certainly be a good time.

Immediately after the top 10 was announced in her Category, apparently everybody had made the unanimous decision to let her duel to start the Category - making her and her opponent the primary entertainment for lunch period, where everybody was in the Arena with hawk vision. 

When she saw the balloting, she realized exactly why her duel was first. It was a rare instance of pairing two Great Sects together. Her opponent was the Jiang representative of her Category - Jiang Zixiao, if she had not been mistaken. He was the one with the least number of wins amongst the Five Sects at the moment since she and Mingjue reigned supreme in the top 16 with 15/15 points in their respective section, following closely behind with 14/15 by both Jin Zixuan and Wen Zhuliu. 

She couldn't afford to lose now. Besides, Wanyin had told her in his usual grumpy manner that Zixiao didn't like her-didn't like the fact that he had to battle a 'girl' because he would never raise an arm to a 'woman', seemingly so chivalrous. What Xichen never understood about that argument was what was the need to raise an arm to a woman or anyone in general, without a proper standard. Shouldn't it be classified as human decency? Being a good person?

In real life, outside the battlefield, there was no need to hurt anyone. Not just women. 

But on the battlefield, everything was fair game. She was here because she was as good as anyone else. And her gender shouldn't be a barrier for him to see how well of a fighter she was. 

Chivalry wasn't outdated, she would never say it was. But the moment you respect a woman is the moment you treat her as you want to be treated - seeing her not as inferior or superior but as similar. Zhixiao or any boy wouldn't consider themselves so 'dashingly chivalrous' for not hitting a fellow boy, just as courteous. If that level of understanding was extended to women too, not as the 'fragile sex' but as 'human', half of the issues regarding women in the Cultivation world would've been done and dusted.

Xichen studied the frame entering the Arena - the Jiangs were suspiciously quiet on the stands today, while her Disciples cheered her on. Well, they can't in good conscience cheer her on. They are the Primary Family of Yunmeng Jiang - the Sect her opponent belonged to.

He was also Wen Zhuliu's age, if her memory served her correctly - 11. Three years her senior. And the last year's Runner-up. Only defeated by Nie Mingjue.

Well, this time he had lost to Jin Zixuan, and Xichen hoped that the losing streak would continue to this round as well. 

But she also knew that the win had been a chance for Zixuan. Zixiao had been exceedingly over-confident, and Zixuan was the youngest in their Category. He was even younger than her. But Jin Guangshan had wanted his son to participate as soon as possible, although there was a rumor that an older female disciple, two years her senior, named Luo Qingyang was the true Best Disciple of the age. At only 10, she was already gearing up for that Head Disciple position, apparently, and also had achieved the unachievable feat of Jin Zixuan's respect. 

If she did so, as a girl, in Jin Sect, with way too many rumors about the Zongzhu, she truly must be formidable.

But Jin Zixuan's early entrance didn't surprise Xichen either. As polite as Xichen could put it, Jin Guangshan was a 'Zhuī Guāng Zhě' - a limelight seeker. The true love of his life was the spotlight he could have at any given time. Well, probably except his morally questionable...pursuits. Her Shufu had always given the elder Disciples a withering look whenever they discussed Jin Zongzhu in her or Wangji's hearing range. She could vaguely guess why.

Even if not, Jin Zixuan's horrible dislike and treatment of his intended were common knowledge. And the unfortunate girl was none other than the sweetest person Xichen had ever encountered, Jiang Yanli. 

Xichen never quite understood the villainy. Engagements since birth weren't unheard of. Xichen almost expected one for herself. Thank Gods that she was declared Sect Heir almost immediately after, because it bought her some time. But even if a proposal was presented within the next hour, Xichen would hardly call it a surprise.

Her father had been betrothed since birth as well, although he had, very decidedly, severed any form of that the moment he had married A-Niang, or really, seen her. Jiang Fengmian had also been Yu Ziyuan's intended for nearly 10 years before marriage. And everyone knew that Jin Guangshan would never have married when he did, and not Madam Jin for sure, had he not also been betrothed since he was 3.

Besides, Yanli was great. Jin Zixuan was merely blind. But then again, he's a kid. Xichen didn't like marriages either.

There was a loud laugh from Zhixiao suddenly, waving at the stands. As if he were an immortal gracing the grounds with his presence. Xichen bit back her urge to roll her eyes. Yes, he was personally tutored by Yu Ziyuan - The Violet Spider herself, as her possible Head Disciple, while Jiang Ruqiu would be taking the Official Head Disciple position until someone else (Possibly Wuxian) would undertake it from him. But still, this boy apparently had an ego to rival heaven itself. An ego, his Shifu had not developed within her years of being revered as one of the greatest Cultivators her generation had produced. How pathetic.

But even as Xichen noted his shortcomings, she knew she was entering into a sea of unpredictability. Since his choice of weapon was not a sword, it was a whip. Yes, it was also devoid of any spiritual power like their practice swords, but whips were never her strong suit. She had not studied them. After all, it was the ethical practice to go with swords for this competition. But Xichen forgot to count in the fact that while Lans revered ethics as rules, the rest of the Sects revered them as suggestions. Especially Jiangs and, well, Wens.

The other rule of this round and proceeding was that they cannot use Spiritual Energy to heal mid-fight, something Xichen did on all other previous rounds whenever a hit landed on her. Since she was wholly unfamiliar with the weapon itself, this round was about to leave scars.

Xichen usually liked being right, but she wished she was proven wrong for once when a nice red dash decorated her forearm within two minutes of the bout. Well, where was that chivalry he was insistent upon, when it seemed like he was winning?

He kept on making the most elaborate whipping Xichen had seen - she had not seen much anyway, so the only thing she could do was to maneuver herself away. Zixiao, for all his arrogance, was strategic. A mind well thought out. He never gave up on the offence.

But she was a Lan. Battle strategies were their thing. 

The only way his whip made a real impact was on a very specific distance - mid-distance - not too far, not too close. And his arm movements were exhausting him.

Well, then, Xichen would like to take a leaf out of Ruiwen-Xiong's book.

She kept circulating him, rarely allowing herself to be in his vicinity - or the vicinity he wanted her to be in. Xichen was indeed marked with some terrible whipping, despite her best attempts. He was intentionally targeting her pressure points. But her target remained on his arms, landing hits as much as she could get between them on the region between his shoulder and elbow. 

She could literally hear the thought process of her companions now - mental waves askew, asking her to play offense for real without wasting time. The one time she briefly glanced at the audience, Ruiwen-Xiong was urging her to aim for the pressure points, like he was. So was Xialoian-Jie, even going to the point of pointing them out on her own body. But Yuxin-Jie remained silent, as she predicted. 

Yuxin-Jie was the daughter of the best healer in Gusu Lan, her prowess in medicine only slightly subpar to her talent in anatomy and design. She knew the human body. She also knew how diligent Xichen was in studying it. 

It was her secret weapon after all. In a man's world, where raw strength met raw strength, the only way a woman could survive was in between frames of a few seconds or a few minutes. And they needed to make the most of it in that very specific period. To do so, she needed to know the weakest links.

Her opponent was taught by a woman. A woman who mastered them. Yuxin-jie probably understood why Xichen was not using the stereotypical pressure points at the moment. 

Because, yes, pressure points were fast, effective, but they weren't the only impactful places on a body. If it was a time crunch with a muscle head, sure, but not with a man who was taught them so diligently like this. No, a casual hit repetitively would suffice just as much.

It was sort of ironic that Zhixiao dared to stay 'chivalrous' when his own Shifu was a woman who could probably beat 10 grown Cultivators with her eyes closed.

But it did come in handy when her opponents would underestimate her. Because seeing her hits not landing on any specific locations, Zhixiao grew increasingly comfortable, smirking openly, and hitting her on her pressure points. She outmaneuvered him efficiently while keeping her 'innocent, inconspicuous' attack in tune.

He grew increasingly frustrated by the second. Xichen could see why Ruiwen-Xiong liked this technique. It felt strangely good to watch the victorious expression melt to rising anger on her opponent.

They were approaching the seventh minute of the bout - if Xichen was right in her deduction. Okay, enough play, then.

Xichen increased the pace of her attacks - both Zhixiao's upper arms looked red and stinging. She momentarily worried whether she was too hard, but then she saw her own hand having several whiplashes. Seemed fair enough.

Then finally, his arms began to drop, pain too intense to swing them as necessary for whip handling - his eyes round when realization crashed upon him. Well, he was smug, Xichen deemed it only fair she returned the favor. 

With her own slight smirk, she kept on the hits, and the moment his hand couldn't rise above the elbow, she decided that it was time to stop the dance. Now, it was time to go back to the pressure points.

She closed the distance with her final hit, flying through the air to deliver the precise hit at his 'Feng Shi'- the Gallbladder point at his outer mid-thigh, and immediately, he crashed to the ground. 

She watched him trying to get back on his feet, kneecaps probably injured with the hard fall he took, but then finally, sighing, giving up. He dropped his weapon away from him. 

Xichen composed her smug face to pleasing neutrality. She won.

A thundering applause came from the audience. To her surprise, Nie Zongzhu, who was munching on a dumpling, was clapping the hardest, on his feet while he still chewed his food. That giant tree of a man, acting so enthusiastic for her sake, made Xichen giggle out loud, slightly bowing her head in his direction, thanking her. Just like the first day, he winked at her. Behind his robes, she also noted a smaller frame, clapping as well.

Not Mingjue, because as competitors of the same Category, they weren't allowed to view each other's bouts. But before she could see further, her eyes met the hardened stare of Yu Ziyuan. She was assessing her, that part was clear. But Xichen wanted her to think of her well. Or as well as she could, considering Xichen just defeated her best student in Xichen's generation. Yu Ziyuan kept her eyes on her, and Xichen straightened slightly, meeting it head-on. She knew her tactic wasn't forthright. But strategy reaped benefits when strength didn't.

Then almost imperceptibly, Yu Ziyuan raised her teacup, saluting her, a small smirk etched on her face as she mouthed 'Well done'. Xichen felt her face break into a grin. The great Violet Spider approved of her. 

Xichen bowed to the applauding audience, some still half-hearted, for certain, but not unconvinced of her credibility. No, their only problem now was that she was 'female' and that only.

Her eyes finally went back to her opponent, who was still in his kneeling position, unable to get up just yet. Sensing her gaze on him, the boy looked up at her, the smug expression gone, replaced with a slightly helpless smile.

Xichen felt her resolve crumble. She had hoped to leave him for his excessive commentary before the bout, but he was also just trying to win. And he also had a Sect to please. Sure, he could've kept the egoistic narration to himself, but it was beneath Xichen not to be courteous. Whatever his mouth had been doing, evidently working faster to his brain, he had posed a good obstacle. Her many gashes on her arms proved that.

Thus, Xichen walked to him, extending her hand. And he, finally good-natured, took it and got up. Although his knees immediately buckled, showing Xichen that her hit was already turning purple. Oh, she hadn't meant to hit that hard.

She felt guilt clawing inside her when he winced at every step. 

Overcome with penitence, she followed him.

"I can help you...If you wish," Unlike the confident aura she projected in the Arena, now her voice was soft. Zhixiao looked at her mildly amused. But he still nodded his head yes.

"You know, you don't have to feel guilty for injuring me." Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, bracing himself, he murmured, laughter layered in his voice. Xichen gripped his robe by the waist in return, keeping him upright.

"It's not just guilt," Xichen muttered back. "I was purposefully leading you astray when we started." She admitted low, eyes staring ahead instead of him.

Zixiao chuckled low.

"And that was your weapon, wasn't it?" Accurately deduced that her strongest suit was her mind, not her brawl, Zhixiao murmured back. His voice didn't hold any resentment. Xichen just nodded her head. They both knew it was.

"Well, I learned my lesson, Lan-guaninag~" His voice was teasing, like how Ruiwen-Xiong's was when he was feeling particularly dandy. Dandy enough to annoy her and be glared at by Wangji to death. Xichen allowed herself a smile at that, looking at him with gratitude. He winked at her, just like how Wuxian usually did, with open charm.

"I think my Shifu wanted to adopt you on the spot as a disciple," He continued, looking at Yu Ziyuan, coming down the steps of the pavilion to greet her student. "You really do fight rather well for a girl."

And...Halt.

Rationally, Xichen knew it was probably the structuring of the sentence, and the boy just tried to compliment her. But the term 'girl' on any of her accomplishments vexed her. She just bested him a moment ago. Not because she was a girl, but because she was the better fighter. 

Thankfully, her composure remained intact.

"You were not so bad for a BOY, yourself, Jiang Zixiao," She conceded, throwing his own words back at him. 

Immediately, his face contorted, noting his error. But she wasn't very interested in hearing him out, although she did stay in her spot. Yu Ziyuan was approaching them. She would stay to greet her.

"I meant no offense, I didn't mean-" The boy stuttered. Xichen sighed. Well, he had not clocked on why she kept the silence.

"It's okay. Just be careful with your compliments next time. I didn't beat you within 8 minutes for you to talk down on me or my sex. Besides, if you opened your eyes enough, that was an insult to your own education, considering Yu Ziyuan is your Shifu. I'd suggest more caution with words." Keeping her voice cool, Xichen stepped away after lowering the boy to a seat.

Ashamed, Zhixiao nodded his head. Finally, he kept his silence.

Yu Ziyuan didn't pay immediate attention to her when she reached them. Ordering another Disciple of theirs to tend to a series of points on Zixiao first. Xichen didn't expect her to either. Her devotion to her students only proved her mastery.

When she finally did turn, Yu Ziyuan just looked at her, then nodded with a pat on her back. The warmth in her eyes said way more than a 'Good job' ever could. 

That was the compliment Xichen needed. That was what she deserved.

For the first time since the competition started, Wangji decided to finally venture to the room - although if Xichen had to guess, he was probably incentivized by the chaos operator in purple robes and wide grey eyes, as well as the grumpy macaroon who gave Wangji a run for his theatrics. Xichen was glad. Being with her all day and every day, sticking by her side, was not doing Wangji any favors for his people skills. He needed some friends his age.

He did have friendly faces within their Disciples, but that was a given. They lived together. But making friends outside the Sect would always come in handy as well. And Xichen had a premonition that one way or the other, both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin would grow up to be great cultivators just like how Wangji would be. 

His life hadn't been fair to Wangji either, as much as it had been for her. He was always forced to stay by her side - always close to her, to prove their loyalty to outsiders, show they were inseparable, since there were one too many claws waiting to snatch her brother from her grasp and mold him into a political weapon with real threat. 

Despite him being HER Wangji, he could also potentially become the sharpest sword against her in a political landscape, illegitimize her contingency the moment he decided to challenge her if he wished. On the wrong hands, Wangji could be the very weapon that could destroy her - one because of the skill and talent and the blood factor, as the only other child of current Lan Zongzhu brought to the table and on the other hand, being the one person who could break her heart if he ever turned on her.

They were both told this story since his birth, Shufu stating and iterating his point on how crucial they should be seen as a single unit. It wasn't something one should say to two siblings, but both she and Wangji let it slide. Their whole lives were a badly constructed soap opera; what's a little more political maneuvering there?

But if she contemplated the factor even a second too long, Wangji always assured her that she was his favorite in every which way. He often told her, in way too many cuddles and drawings, that he would always desire her presence, but sometimes she felt like she had made all his childhood about herself. Both she and Shifu had, in fact. He needed his own friends, a life, outside of her. (Not that she had much ground to stand on. Wangji was her life, too. But it was still unhealthy for the two of them to be so intertwined all the time.

Besides, if it ever came to that (she was positive that it wouldn't. Wangji's dislike for their father extended to his title. He would rather set himself on fire than be a Sect Leader), she would happily hand over the Leadership to him. She may be the one getting molded to it, fighting for it, but that didn't make her brother any less unworthy.

He was already a Leader, wise beyond his years, having an aura that is undeniable- even in such a tiny frame. Wangji would definitely become a name remembered. He, just by assessing her movements, now knew how to wield swords. Xichen held hers at 6, and Wangji was only 5.

Besides, at this particular go-back-home, Yanli was there to supervise. Even if Xichen might not trust the responsibility of the two little guys, Xichen already trusted Jiang Yanli. She was an older sister to Xichen, too, at times. 

So, even if Wangji had lingered for a while, she had given him a gentle push with a 'Go, A-Zhan', using the name he could never refuse from her. His anger at yesterday's Peony fiasco was also slightly lingering, so it hadn't needed more than that for convincing.

Thus, when she was finally tracing the path home with the good news of her qualifying for the 'Top 4' of her Category, having secured a name and a status to 'Lan Xichen', alongside Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, and Wen Zhuliu, she had been pleasantly surprised to be bombarded with a running Wangji.

Wangji never ran, speed walked if angry, but never ran. He was the epitome of a Lan at that.

Therefore, his haggard state immediately put her on edge.

"What happened, Wangji?" Keeping her voice calm, clear, she asked, not wanting to scare her brother.

"Boy...Pond...I-"
Between breathless gasps, she got the summary she needed, immediately breaking into a run. What idiot had trespassed in the clearly restricted areas now? Xichen, as much as she adored the boy, would definitely tell Shufu if it were Wei Wuxian again.

But it wasn't.

At the edge of the Healing Pond they had, she noticed a small arm, clad in black and yellow, coming up and disappearing underneath in quick motion. Without a thought, Xichen ditched her outer robe, jumping straight into the pond.

Wangji was still an amateur at swimming, after all, and Shufu had forbidden him from any unsupervised swimming without her or any older Disciple in the vicinity after the last time, where Wangji had jumped into a deep swirl to save a baby rabbit who had fallen into water. Shufu had waded there and gotten them both back after a fight in a swim.

Even then, Wangji had shivered for an hour.

But still, she was fairly positive that Wangji had not troubled their Uncle by clinging to him, but apparently, this little guy hadn't been told that. Xichen had to use her last bit of spiritual energy to get them both out of the swirl and onto the swimmable water - her bones dead tired and aching with pain. 

The little yellow and black robes clung to the boy's body as he cried loudly, choking on breaths. Wangji looked mildly uncomfortable at the notion of the sniffing boy, even as he helped her to wrap him in the robe she ditched. At a particular loud wail, Wangji had backtracked so hard that if Xichen hadn't gripped his robes, he would've fallen into water, and she would be due for another swim.

Xichen looked at the boy for a second, patting and rubbing his back, knowing the experience was probably scaring him, helping him to calm down while Wangji religiously maintained at least a meter's gap. If she weren't so concerned for this trespassing little outlander, she would've laughed at Wangji's horrified face.

The little guy was clearly from Qinghe Nie, given his robes, but he was smaller in size than she anticipated. Tinier than her own brother. And he had muted green eyes that were pouring tears rapidly, his tiny face completely blotched and red. He also looked vaguely familiar, but Xichen couldn't quite place the setting.

"Hey, little one," She tried to placate him, which only just resulted in his cries increasing. She briefly thanked the Gods that Wangji was the sibling she was gifted with. Even if she could tolerate the tears, the wailing was abysmal. 

But she felt her heart melt when he sought comfort in her body warmth, leaning into her mid-cry. Her brother, on the other hand, looked ready to kill. Possessive as ever. She grinned at Wangji briefly, assuring him that no matter how many gremlins lunched into her life, he would always be her favorite. Wangji huffed back, slightly assured.

"Do you want to tell me your name? We can find your parents," she tried conversing, rocking the small child in her arms.

"Want-" Hiccup "want..Da-ge" The boy managed between heaving sobs. Well, that was wholly unhelpful. How was Xichen to know his Da-ge without knowing the kid himself?

But on cue, she heard a very familiar shouting voice.

"NIE HUAISANG!" 

Nie Mingjue.

Right. This was the younger son of Nie Zongzhu. Nie Mingjue's brother. The same brother that Nie Mingjue fought Wen Chao for, and distilled a fear so large that Wen Chao feared Mingjue more than he feared the Gods.

"Nie-gonzi-" She tried to greet, only to be pushed away. Not hard. Just enough so Mingjue could get to his brother. Xichen understood. If Wangji were in danger, she would be the same. Perhaps not as loud, but otherwise, the same. Maybe slightly less reckless, too, but that wasn't important.

Mingjue assessed his brother from head to toe, turning him this way and that while Xichen placed herself next to Wangji, ignoring her own wet clothes for the moment. But her precious Didi never did, taking his small outer robe and putting it over her shoulder, standing on his tiptoes. Wangji was the best person ever.

Mingjue's eyes were wide with concern. And fear. Xichen momentarily felt bad for him. He was probably very anxious about him. And she may as well admit that it did soften her heart a bit. This demigod of a small cultivator, panicking so openly for his even smaller brother. Mingjue was a good brother.

But that opinion didn't get to form its full coherence. Because immediately after deducing Huaisang was wailing more due to shock than any injury, Mingjue's hand pinched his ear. Hard. 

Even Wangji flinched slightly at that.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I-" Mingjue started, Huaisang already hissing in pain, cry momentarily forgotten. Xichen doubted whether she should intervene, but considering the little guy was probably already traumatized, there was no need to sprinkle a dash of physical violence on top.

"Nie-gonzi!" 

Finally, her voice pierced through Mingjue's frantic haze, the boy freezing up at her intervention, as if remembering the two of them were still there. But his head was turned for only two seconds, immediately turning away with a red face. What the-

Oh. Right. She was wet.

With her own red face, she drew Wangji's robe tighter around herself. They were too small, but she didn't have anything else.

As if sensing her thoughts, she saw Mingjue removing his own outer robe. She wanted to refuse, but before she could get a word out, the boy had already draped it over her shoulder, not contacting her once, and immediately situated himself at least a meter away from her. 

Well, the robe did help. The evening was cold. And the Healing Pond was freezing. And, apparently, Mingjue was rather warm, considering the heat of his outer robe - the third robe on his person.

"I apologize-"
"Thank yo-" 

They both started at the same time. Immediately blushing again. Gods, why was this her fate? What was happening? Why did she always lose her composure in front of this boy?!

"You can go first, Lan-guaniang," Mingjue offered, head slightly turned away, not meeting her gaze but staring generally in her direction.

"I just wanted to thank you, Nie-gonzi. The robe helps. And also to mention...maybe you should lay off your brother. The little guy did just fall into a pond," Xichen said, her eyes briefly meeting Huaisang's, who looked at her with a bright smile and wide eyes.

Xichen realized that by standing up for him against Mingjue, just propelled herself to the top of his favorites' list.

"No, I should be thanking you, Lan-guaniang. Thank you for saving this idiot's life. You really shouldn't have," Mingjue stated, the last part clearly a jab at his brother. The little adventurer pouted at that, eyes filling with tears again.

"You don't know how many times I advised this dumbass to stick to my side. But, no! Of course not. There's this sense of adventurism to this brain-dead squirrel that he always wants to explore some nonsense," Mingjue uttered in rapid succession, hitting his brother's head for good measure, forgetting the place as well as the company.

Vulgar words weren't allowed in Cloud Recess.

"Nie-gonzi-" She tried reminding, but no, of course not. Nie Mingjue was not done.

"I ought to break your legs, you little rascal! Wait till we get home. I'm gonna beat the shit-" He started, strong, might Xichen add. And she needn't hear anything - perhaps give him a warning not to do any of that within Lan premises.

"Nie Mingjue!" The demand for his own name finally got his attention, sending him to blush deep red again. Well, Xichen can't help with that. He should've maintained the composure. Like she was, valiantly keeping her laughter at bay.

"I understand you're worried. But perhaps, refrain from actively breaking Lan rules while you're at it. And get the child some nice hot bath, first," She advised sagely.

"I ap-apologize, Lan-guaniang," he stuttered, so far away from the violent brute people saw in the battlefield, with a constant frown etched across his features. "If you need to report the incident-"

"There's no need. Technically, I should be in my room, and so should Wangji. If you can assure this won't happen again, we can just depart on that note," with a pointed look at the kid, Xichen said, allowing her smile to appear, telling them it was in good fun.

But to her surprise, Mingjue took a second too long to answer. And in that time, the pouty smile and the watery eyes of the younger Nie were completely vaporized, replaced with a sly grin that could rival Wei Wuxian's.

What was happening?

"Of course, Lan-guaniang. This won't happen again. If it did, I wouldn't hesitate to break his..." Realizing his own words, Minjue broke off, flushing violently, yet again, sending Xichen to snort aloud.

Oh my Gods! What the hell was that, Xichen?! So, undignified!

Mingjue looked at her with wide eyes, transfixed. Probably by her severe lack of decorum. Next to her, Wangji's eyes kept darting between her and Mingjue, finally brightening with a small smirk on his face. 

No, absolutely not. 

"No worries, Nie-gonzi. I'll meet you at the Arena tomorrow. Goodnight," Wishing the two so quickly that she almost tripped on her own words, Xichen exited the venue, dragging a smirking Wangji behind her, without waiting for them to wish the sentiment back.

Was this karma? For what she did with the Peonies? Why was she the way she was in front of them?!

"Jiejie," Wangji's voice called out, a teasing tilt in it. Xichen shook her head. She will not entertain this. Not now. Not ever.

"Not a single more word from you, Wangji." Her voice warned, but one look at her smiling little brother told her that he wasn't even slightly baffled.

Oh, dear Gods! Xichen was in for one hell of a ride, wasn't she?

Chapter Text

31 years ago

Xichen had not been this nervous in the competition yet.

Perhaps it was because the day marked the end of the competition, deciding the Champion of each Category. Or maybe the last night's fiascos were catching up to her.

She had entered the Hanshi - still dripping wet - and wrapped in an outer robe so plainly Nie that it had almost sent her Shufu to a cardiac arrest the moment he saw her. He had come to congratulate her on the Top 04, but instead had an aneurysm on her bedroom floor.

When he did finally calm himself enough, Lan Qiren had interrogated her mercilessly and had even scorned her for good measure, strutting about in public in colors so semblative of another Sect when the whole point of her establishment as a great cultivator was to solidify her status as unmatched.

She had attempted to justify, and so had Wangji , but her Uncle wasn't entertaining any of their notions.

It was better to withstand the shouting than to argue with Lan Qiren . Besides, had she not been so flustered, perhaps she would've had more cognitive functions to take a secretive route that only they knew. So, in that regard, she was partly to blame, so she had waited.

But when he finally stopped, her Shufu had grinned at her slightly for what she had done. Even commended her heroic act and then left them with a bowl of milk sweets and mooncakes to share. They weren't advised to have them in the dead of the night, but this was her Uncle's attempt at celebration, so she had taken it after a single hug from the man.

Wangji had bounced slightly on his feet until her Uncle also hugged him, but she decided not to comment on it. Wangji was as stealthy as a drunk tortoise, but destroying his self-confidence this early may reflect poorly on his adulthood.

When they finally went to sleep, Wangji had confessed that he was on his way back to her, too bored to hang about the room after the Jiangs left. (He said 'bored' but Xichen knew it was discomfort. Wangji loved silence, but not the eerie, haunting, dead one like how it was with their father, but the soft, meaningful, safe space they had at the library or by themselves in their private quarters. Wangji might even prefer loudness to the former.)

Xichen had just given him a sleepy nuzzle when he did, too exhausted by the ordeal of events.

She was also sure the little gremlin mentioned something with the term 'Nie Mingjue' in the middle, but Xichen had important matches tomorrow. She needed sleep.

So, even though she may or may not have heard Wangji's whispered remarks, she had tried to sleep.

What? She cared more for the bouts than his unreasonable questioning about her blush!

And she was glad she did sleep. She was at least well-rested...physically, for the battles.

To no one's surprise, her bout was with Jin Zixuan. Pairing Wen Zhuliu with Nie Mingjue. The bouts were announced the first thing in the morning. But what came as a surprise was the next declaration.

By agreement of all Sects in attendance, their personal weapons could be used in these rounds.

The practice wasn't unheard of, the Senior Category started using them since the Top 10, one of the major reasons as to why Yichen-Xiong has so many scars tattered across his body at the moment - unwilling starry patterns. They would all be gone within a week, though, since only now they are not allowed to use their energy to heal.

But allowing the same practice to Intermediate and Novel was certainly new. She loved Shuoye , and it felt much more comfortable than any practice sword, but all this time, the risk factor was largely prevented. But with this declaration, if it was at 1 earlier, now it was at 100.

And all her competitors had signature weapons already. Wen Zhuliu -  she had thankfully escaped, since his sword was apparently as crafty as he was - flexible but unyielding. But even without that, his true weapon was his right hand. While all of them needed external aid to properly weaponize, the boy was a weapon himself.

Jin Zixuan's sword, her next ordeal, was named 'Suihua', meaning passage of time. An oddly scholarly name for a boy who pranced like it was his signature move. But Xichen liked the name and the sword. It was said to withstand the most powerful of blows - sucking the power back into it. So maybe going around, clashing swords wasn't her best option at the moment. For all Shuoye brought to the table, grace and deadly accuracy, it had no built-in system to absorb shock.

And Mingjue's Baxia was so totally out of their range. The boy was already bonded with the Saber so well, apparently, that sometimes it felt like the Saber was working on its own. Qinghe Nie was also famous for Saber Spirits, so maybe the rumor was also fruitful. But even without it, it was massive, sharp, and personified strength.

Xichen was momentarily glad; she had Zixuan before Mingjue because she needed to level up with a healthy dose of adrenaline before facing that reckless unpredictability.

Jins were much more attuned to her - she knew their techniques. Distance and precision. Not so different from their own. Their focus was more on the upper body than what Lans practiced with grounding and closing distance. They were all very good archers after all, and for a very good reason.

That morning, the smaller Nie brother had come up to her with her robe she had lent him yesterday, freshly washed with a hint of mint herb lingering there. And she had exchanged Nie Mingjue's own robe back with the child.

He was in no way the same sobbing boy from earlier, grinning like a small Cheshire cat in relaying how his 'Da- ge apologized for his absence in greeting Lan- guaninag , ' eyes sparking in mischief. Hearing that Wangji had coughed once, almost polite, but she knew him. That teasing tilt of the head only meant one thing - he was having fun. Glaring at her brother, she had just repeated the same phrase and sent him off.

But soon enough, the little avalanche was back, pestering her to sit with her Disciples. He was cute in a troublemaker way. She just knew Wei Wuxian , and he would hit it off instantly.

She had gotten to know him, too, while waiting for the Intermediate events to commence, supporting Ruiwen-Xiong. Nie Huaisang was the opposite of his brother in every imaginable way, thus far - fragile, more prone to art than martial arts. He was a little drama-maker in tiny robes.

And a persuasive talker as well. Within an hour, the child was just calling her 'Xichen-jie' like he had done it all his life. Xichen let him. Nie Huaisang, although he definitely didn't know when to shut up, was a good kid. Besides, he was Wangji's age - perhaps they could be friends.

Although that task looked to be daunting because every time Huaisang babbled, Wangji's long-suffering look escalated in frames. Well, Xichen could've probably sent the child back to his own Sect, but she enjoyed Wangji's discomfort more. Served him right for the incessant teasing he continued since yesterday evening.

As she predicted, Huaisang and Wuxian got along splendidly the moment the grey-eyed boy had toppled in on them just a minute before the start. Jiang Wanyin had grumbled about Wei Wuxian oversleeping like a hibernated sloth and Yanli, as always, trying to placate the two brothers. No one would have ever guessed that Wanyin was the younger of the two.

But even if she was fond of the chaos, Xichen would've respectfully willed them all to non-existence because they were bothersome to her at the moment, on the edge of the markings of the start of her legacy. She needed to learn as much as she could about Jin and Nie's fighting styles before her own bouts started.

So, this time, she was truly thankful for the withering glare Wangji directed at the rest of the boys - one complaining, one loudly enthusiastic, and the other loudly unhinged (Xichen'll let one decipher who is who). Wuxian had immediately latched himself to Wangji's side at that, invading his personal space but not without chatter.

Well, at least it was whispers this time. Xichen will take the win, even as subpar as it was.

Yanli had easily clocked onto her slight vibrations, though, briefly squeezing her hands in support. Throughout the Intermediate Category, her hand remained on Xichen's wrist, grounding and assuring. Xichen briefly wished for the girl to be her own older sister. Even if only a year her senior, Yanli already looked ready for adulthood.

Jiang Ruqiu's bout with Wen Chao was the first one. And with ho highlights there. Xichen knew Ruqiu would win, and the boy did with such speed that the clock only marked 6 minutes when Wen Chao fainted with a blow so hard it rattled even Xichen's seat, two rows away from the Arena. Wen Chao was good, but it was so abundantly clear Ruqiu was far ahead.

Considering the man's smaller frame - standing at 5'6 at 15, he was one of the shortest in the category, and he used that factor in such deadly accuracy. Reaching around and using his ungifted height to maneuver so fast, he was mostly just a blur of purple.

So, indeed. Wen Chao had no real possibility.

On good news, though, Xichen had one more lesson on footwork and body stamina. Which will definitely come in handy, considering Jin Zixuan was her height at the moment, but he was definitely heavier.

Next up was his Shixiong and Nie Zonghui. Xichen leaned forward with interest.

This was the first time Nie Zonghui was partaking in the competition, even if he had always been the best in his age, simply because, like Mingjue, he thought fighting these frivolous. But this time, considering how well the fate had turned out for Mingjue (his Shidi), Zonghui competed. The classic underdog. Undeniable ace.

As reported by Huaisang, Zonghui was the only one within both the Intermediary and Novel sections of their Sect who could parry Nie Mingjue and give him a run for his money on occasion. They were also quite close, as alleged.

Xichen didn't know whether Huaisang's keeping his eyes on her every time he divulged information about his brother was intentional, but she largely pretended not to notice. Xichen didn't want him to speculate, considering the clear desire for drama the boy harbored at a mere 5.

She briefly saw Mingjue settling down in his own Sect, opposite her vision. Them on either side, the Arena in the middle.

For the first time, he was also viewing the fighting techniques in real time since, thus far, they had been barred. But on the final day, every decorum was out of the picture.

And now they had the full massive Arena for the two fighters, not a separate section. They had three rounds for each category- easily manageable within the day. There was no need for a time crunch anymore.

Thus, the entire arena was now jam-packed, not a single seat available.

Coincidentally, Xichen's eyes met Mingjue's. She was too far to really see his expressions properly, but he seemed startled for a second before tilting his head in acknowledgement. She did the same with a smile, noticing the robe that he had given her was the one on his lap.

She wasn't certain what happened after, but Mingjue's head turned downwards, almost immediately, and on cue, Huaisang cackled at her side.

She looked at the tiny catalyst for a second. She could dig deeper, but was she really so invested in the lore right now?

Thankfully, the Gong chose for her. Starting the bout between the first Lan vs Nie duel, she was to witness.

She saw her Shixiong unsheathing his sword, posture rigid, the smile still intact on his face. Yet her smile immediately faltered when she saw Zonghui's weapon of choice. He used double sabers?!

Lans never used double sabers. It wasn't something discouraged; it just wasn't in practice. And she knew enough about her Shixiong that he had never dueled someone with double sabers before, certainly not someone of Zonghui's caliber.

Still, Ruiwen-Xiong's smile remained, eyes darting - a clear tell of his slight nerves. On the row below, Xichen heard Yichen-Xiong mutter 'Oh, Gods'. Yichen-Xiong had plenty of experience with double sabers. But Xichen also knew that he had forgone that specific teachings for Ruiwen-Xiong under the assumption that within the Intermediate and Novel sections, double sabers would have no value.

As it was supposed to be...until the Elders went ahead and just posed a 'But what if?' suggestion and forced the competitors to abide by it.

Xichen felt bad for her Shixiong, who was now assessing his stance in real time. But it seemed Zonghui wasn't interested in assessment. Nie fighters were infamously aggressive and direct, and Zonghui would be Mingjue's right-hand man one day. It didn't come as a surprise that the man was also like his (future) Zongzhu - Reckless...but precise.

To his credit, Ruiwen-Xiong did block the attack rather well with his own sword, but he was slightly naive to the extra saber on Zonghui. Immediately, a red gash formed on Ruiwen-Xiong's forearm, being sliced through, and finally, his smile dimmed.

His usual tactic of outlasting his opponent by frustration and mind games wasn't working on Zonghui. That man was entirely too focused to give a hoot about the concept of time.

Ruiwen-Xiong briefly glanced at the blood, his eyes hardened like two sets of cobblestones. That was the deadliest expression she had ever seen on her Shixiong.

He backtracked, leaving enough space between them, but Zonghui advanced rapidly.

So, Nie took offense? Close distance fighting? Xichen had too many questions.

All the moves she saw on her Shixiong were familiar to her, or, even if slightly different with his flair, they were patterned. Xichen could see the evolution. Zonghui was not. He switched between offense and defense, both right strikes and left strikes. He reminded her more of the demons that Yichen-Xiong told her they were subduing in night hunts. Unpredictable. Deadly.

Usually, that unpredictability stemmed from desperation, survival. And while Zonghui fought with a passion of such expression, he was still calculated. Strategic.

Unpredictability was the strategy for them.

How was anyone supposed to read that? Xichen momentarily felt bad for her round with Mingjue. He has allegedly already mastered them. What was she supposed to do within 10 minutes?

Zonghui's attack increased in numbers, her Shixiong growing tired. But he also sped upon the footwork, making it nearly impossible for any hit to land. After that first gash, Ruiwen-Xiong's robes remained intact.

Meanwhile, Zonghui had taken a few of the harder hits - tearing his shoulder open, his thigh, and the sole of his foot. But despite the wounds, they didn't seem to hinder the man in any way, shape, or form.

Xichen found herself leaning even more into the Arena - they were so evenly matched that it felt like a dance instead of a battle. Attacks and counterattacks so accurate, so swift, one missed 4-5 sword clashes within one blink.

Whatever the outcome of the bout may be, Xichen was already so proud of her Shixiong. The man saw a completely unprepared challenge and faced it head-on like a champion. Never faltering, never hesitating.

That was a strength in itself. Xichen could see that Yichen-Xiong was thinking the same thing- now they were at the final minute to the bout, already clapping for the excellent fighters inside the Arena. Xichen saw Mingjue was also clapping hard - his eyes shining, even though the rest of him remained stoic.

At the last 10 seconds though, Zonghui came through, both his swords clanging down on her Shixiong, knocking his sword out and forcing him to his knees, and he would've gotten up just as fast. But Zonghui had been clever enough to do it to the dot.

As soon as Ruiwen-Xiong fell, the Gong sounded, declaring Zonghui the winner.

Xichen felt mildly disappointed. They were both clearly on equal level. But she was also impressed with the accuracy of Nie Zonghui. That boy was formidable.

Perhaps Qinghe Nie was not all about brute strength, contrary to popular opinion.

Seeing Zonghui helping Ruiwen-Xiong up and even giving him a customary shoulder pat, Xichen cemented in her thoughts. Yes, Zonghui was impressionable.

Yichen-Xiong immediately wrapped an arm around his brother when Ruiwen-Xiong came to them. Smile restored. He was just happy to be in third place. Xichen's respect for the boy kept growing exponentially, in how he conducted himself. Mild, good-natured, even when there was reason to be bitter. Ruiwen-Xiong was one of the most admirable people she knew.

Her bout was next. She and Zixuan were starting the fights.

But for a moment, she allowed herself just to be. Yuxin-jie gently scolded Ruiwen-Xiong for getting hit on near a meridian point, Xiaolian-jie all the more happy to mock him, being his best friend, and Yichen-Xiong with a quiet pride for his brother, holding him uptight, and Wangji, though reluctantly, handed her Shixiong his water and other essentials when the rest of the disciples just asked about the fight from his perspective.

Yes, this was more than enough.

Ruiwen-Xiong's gaze met hers through the gaggle of Lan disciples. She gave him a thumbs up with her dimpled smile, and he winked at her, like always. Yes, there was no shame in defeat if you gave it your all.

The announcements had already started, so Xichen prepared herself for battle. Somewhere in the main pavilion, her Shufu- as the acting Zongzhu- was stating the 4th and 3rd places of the Intermediate Category; Wen Chao and Ruiwen-Xiong, respectively, and the time of the final battle between Jiang Ruqiu and Nie Zonghui.

He probably was delivering optimal news, but Xichen focused on her task. Unsheathing Shuoye, she checked the blade and herself. Her robes slightly shorter today, her boots visible by an inch, since with a real sword, no risks can be taken.

A few meters away, Jin Zixuan was also preparing, a tall, olive-skinned girl in a high ponytail babbling next to him in exaggerated hand gestures, almost commanding attention. She must be Luo Qingyang, then. The only person who humbled Jin Zixuan, who, as nice as Xichen could put it, was a Mirrorhawk in every which way. So entranced by his self-importance that it clouds his judgment every day.

But seeing them, Qingyang didn't look like the one to take his nonsense in stride. Of course, there was respect in her frame, Zixuan was still the Sect Heir, but not blind obedience. While every other disciple there were, were ants waiting on sugar crumbs of Zixuan's acceptance, she was a honeybee who had way more sugar in her person already.

Xichen liked the girl.

Suddenly, a hand tugged at the robes she had just fixed. Sighing and turning, she was met face to face with the determined eyes of one Wei Wuxian and an open, disgruntled scowl of one Jiang Wanyin. Yanli, standing behind, looked ready to dissolve herself into the ground below.

"XICHEN-JIE," the frequency of Wuxian's voice almost threatened her eardrum. What was he doing??

But as she assessed, she realized that his eyes weren't fixed on her, instead heatedly glaring at the boy a few feet away. And as a rare instance where the two brothers agreed, Wanyin was doing the same, adding an eyeroll in the middle for good measure.

"THAT PEACOCK IS WORTHLESS GARBAGE. YOU ARE MUCH MUCH MUCH BETTER." The boy was making a statement. But did he have to be that loud?

Xichen, noting the heads of some elders in the near vicinity turning towards her, felt embarrassment creeping over her frame.

"THE ONLY THING HE KNOWS HOW TO DO WELL IS PRANCE!" Oh, great! Another instigator. Xichen wasn't surprised by Wuxian's audacity to be honest, but Jiang Wanyin? She honestly expected better.

But she could also see that her mortification was nothing in comparison to what Yanli was feeling. Completely red on the face, arms shaking as she tried to placate her brothers with hurried whispers of 'A-cheng! A-Xian! Please stop.

Xichen could vaguely guess why the two usually chaotic but pure boys were acting like stereotypical archenemies in a fiction.

Zixuan allegedly treated Yanli very poorly. It seemed her two brothers had a personal vendetta against the boy. And considering Yanli's shaking frame and guilt and fear-filled eyes, the rumors didn't sound inaccurate.

"HE'S A MASSIVE PRICK OF A MAN-"But thankfully, before Wuxian could complete the thought, he shut his mouth, or rather, his mouth was shut.

Xichen looked to her brother, who was still staring right ahead, as if he hadn't just used the silencing charm on the poor venting boy. Wangji was so theatrical. Xichen was truly amused.

Yanli's eyes were tearful now. No one liked family issues aired in public like this. Wuxian and Wanyin may have done it to defend their sisters' honor, but it was not a pleasant color on the Jiangs.

"I'm so sorry, Xichen." In her agitated state, Yanli even broke protocol by addressing her by her courtesy name. She didn't mind. She considered them friends already. But Xichen didn't appreciate being dragged into something she had nothing to do with.

Yet, it wasn't Yanli's fault. So, she smiled at the scared girl, showing her that no harm was done.

"If the Lan Heir was anything like Jiang-guaninag, you'll be walking on a breeze, Cousin!" An arrogant, loudly mocking voice was heard behind them.

Jin Zixun. Jin Guangshan's sisters' middle child. With a superiority complex to rival the Gods but a skill level lower than his 7-year-old cousin. He was a good archer, that was the only positive thing she had heard of the boy.

But if that was the only redeeming quality with such a personality? Oh, his mother must be weeping daily for nature's natural gift for her was as crass as this one.

Xichen had never deemed the boy important; he was just a mechanic with words who didn't understand how to use the tools. She had more pressing opponents than baseless children who had not gotten adequate pre-childhood growth.

But his comment seemed to shatter Yanli. Xichen could understand why. This was the family she was one day supposed to marry into

So, she almost condoned the violence when Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian started to charge against him, only to be stopped by Yichen-Xiong, who caught the two tiny whirlwinds by each arm, keeping them in place. Xichen sent him a grateful look, to he responded with a half-smile. Making a scene here, right now, was not great for Xichen or her Sect. And frankly, not to the Jiangs either.

Yet, she was sympathetic to the two little guys. Especially when she noted Yanli's eyes darting to her intended, and Zixuan not doing anything except smirk at his Cousin, silently agreeing to the statement without compromising himself. Xichen almost heard Yanli's heart shattering for the 100th time.

This was supposed to be a husband?!

Unintentionally, Yanli started tearing up, and Xichen felt anger. Not only did they just blatantly put two women, two living, breathing women with their uniqueness and different areas of expertise on the same scale, but made that scale a weapon to demean both, in arrogant condescension.

Let's see whether that loftiness was of merit, then. Whether they had grounds to stand on their alleged brilliance.

If not, Xichen will just show them their supremacy was pretentious at best. Nothing reduced an oversized ego like a crushing defeat by an opponent they dissed on, after all.

Zixuan was wearing gold. Bright, shining gold. And it was irritating Xichen.

In the blazing sun, it shone, attracting her eyes to his headpiece or the gold belt around his waist, more than his actual gait. It was unfair. But Xichen also knew it was a tactic. So, she forced herself to concentrate.

He had already unsheathed Suihua, the scabbard thrown carelessly to the floor. It was the usual way after all, so there's more balance to his frame. Besides, his sword was a mechanism by itself; there was no need for a cover.

Meanwhile, Xichen kept hers sheathed, arm resting on the hilt. Still assessing the boy in front.

Zixuan looked arrogant, true, but not in the way her previous competitors were. Not because she was a 'girl'. But he was too narcissistic to be entirely self-assured in his talents. The boy was 7. It would do well for him to learn some humility, although he was one of the best in their generation.

Xichen assessed his frame more, left-handed, carrying Suihua like it was the very first toy he had held, with an obvious familiarity. Like Shuoye was to her. But she also knew the boy had started combat practices at 5, or martial training. Unlike Lan's teachings, which weighed heavily on Philosophy history or formal education, Jins didn't follow that structure.

Their whole Sect was of visibility and frankly, materialism. And materialism wasn't taught in school, so the formal teachings started with combat.

Suihua was also longer than she expected to be. Pointed. Carved so precisely that the end of it glinted under sunlight. With enough deadly accuracy of an acupuncture needle, but on a much larger scale.

She saw him assessing her as well. He was rightfully wary, despite his brain-dead Cousin's word. Xichen was currently ranking higher on the polls than him.

They both had much to lose. Perhaps the boy even more so, considering the boasting Jin Guangshan had been doing for the past few days. Xichen momentarily felt good about having an absentee father figure. At least that way, she didn't have to rise to standards that she didn't consent to, just to appease a parent.

Zixuan was reportedly attached to his father. He wanted to prove himself worthy at every point. Because frankly, Jin Zongzhu had the attention span of a goldfish. His dearest love reserved for wealth and his...pursuits of passion. Zixuan was not doing much better in the father category, just like her. And while she disassociated from hers, since he, clearly, was never there, Zixuan wasn't afforded the same luxury.

He had to be close to Jin Zongzhu. His father was a snake in gold robes, who wouldn't be responsible for any life other than his own. Even his own son. Zixuan was operating on thin ice.

And his mother...

Madam Jin was a spectacle herself. So annoyingly daunting on Zixuan, she was the ultimate boy-mother. So devoted and so intent on believing that no woman could ever live up to the caliber of Jin Zixuan, without understanding that no woman would really want to. It wasn't a matter of unachievable grace but a matter of unwanted supremacy.

Thus, she involved herself in Zixuan's narrative way more than needed. Even forcing the friendship with Zixun when they were younger. Clearly, a grave mistake. The only positive thing about her was that she treated Yanli with love and respect. But solely because she was Yu Ziyuan, her old best friend's daughter. Xichen was sure that Madam Jin wouldn't have looked twice at Yanli if that wasn't the case.

A whole family of spoiled wealth, fashioning a spoiled brat. Xichen really hoped Zixuan would develop a cognitive awareness one of these days to see the crumbling toxicity of his family dynamics. Because even now, when he hadn't made a stellar impression on her as a decent human, there was still genuine innocence in his orbs.

Besides, he was 7. He could change if he wanted. Xichen hoped for everyone's sake he would.

Zixuan puffed out a breath opposite her. She had been doing the exact replica of what Jins usually did. Keeping distance. Fighting their flame with flame. But two minutes of just stalking was too much for the boy.

He started twirling Suihua, preparing to attack. A whirlwind of motions, as expected. Jins certainly loved their flair.

Xichen grounded herself. Knuckles tightening on the hilt. Focus, Xichen. Under no circumstances could Suihua contact her blade.

And then Zixuan was attacking. Neat footwork, ordered, precise. The moment his blade trained down on her, she met it with the scabbard, finally unsheathing the blade.

Briefly, she felt like fighting with dual swords. Because in this bout, her scabbard was as significant as the blade.

Seeing her deflecting his attacks, not with the blade but the scabbard, Zixuan's eyes started narrowing, twirling around and trying to hit her again and again, even as she held her ground. Then something flashed in his orbs.

He distanced himself again, rotating, then unexpectedly he started a rotating formation, one of Jin's specialties.

Xichen had read about them, studied the consequences, but she had not yet studied the fights, the defenses.

Well, she was screwed.

Zixuan's attack was a blur even as she tried to deflect. Suihua made cuts on both her arms, and her outer robe had a slash. What the hell was that?

Fine, if he was intent on bringing actual formation techniques into the Arena, she would too. But perhaps not in the way one would expect.

The Art of Deception - a slightly better version of Jin's Art of Distraction.

Xichen purposefully made herself frown, not that it was hard to do. The bleeding was hurting, and the robe was a present from Shufu. But she let herself tense, allowing Zixuan to read her as getting agitated, concerned.

Zixuan clearly didn't let down his guard all that much. He still circled her, waiting for her to bounce back. Thinking she was playing a game. Eyes narrowed.

Well, he wasn't hopeless after all, then. Quite clever in fact. But Xichen wielded diplomacy sharper than a blade. And that world was all about acts and pretending. She widened her eyes, allowing her orbs to dart a little, and then steeled herself in a superficially 'valiant' effort. Let her steps drag a bit.

What? Just because she wasn't a Jin, that didn't mean she didn't have a flair for the dramatic.

It was the seventh minute of the bout. And Zixuan was in the lead. Now, come on, pretty boy. Take the bait.

Finally, after a few seconds, his shoulders relaxed, grip adjusting its hold on Suihua. Xichen tempered the victorious smirk. She had him right where she wanted him.

She charged.

Jin Zixuan grinned when their blades collided, thinking she was now swinging in abandon. But a little qi drain was fine for her. Letting it look unintentional, her scabbard hit his 'Jǐng Dòng Mài Dòu' point - Carotid Sinus - the side of the neck, just below the jaw. It was a pressure point, directly affecting blood pressure, causing it to drop immediately.

Had it been harder, with her sword hilt, it would've been a collapse or a blackout, but she didn't want to win completely unethically. She was just paying the same tribute to his gold jewelry that distracted her in her small act.

Zixuan clearly didn't expect his own dizziness. His hand spasmed, and his blade fell to the floor. And even though she could've kept on Shuoye, she let her sword fall as well. Letting the audience believe that they were both equally disoriented, as a silent mercy to her opponent, allowing him some grace.

But Zixuan was clearly onto her then. His wide eyes, the hand that unconsciously reached the Sinus point, he knew she was partaking in a play that she had written and directed. Yet, he also looked awed. After all, had she retained her sword, it was instant game over, but now she was presenting him a chance again, without weapons to defeat her, since after the sword falls, the competitors can't retrieve it until the bout is finished.

Her act was just to toy with him a while, teach him a lesson mid-duel about the clearly disregarded comment he had agreed to. Now, they can start the real battle.

Zixuan distanced himself. Her environmental awareness told that the entire audience had gone quiet. Because dropping weapons...that seldom happens in duels. Especially not from both parties.

Xichen didn't have much time to debate. Now that the sword was out of question, she could take offense.

With that, she launched into a multitude of attacks. A flash of blue and gold filled the arena because Zixuan, for all his arrogance, was a good fighter who took on unprecedented challenges in real time. She felt a slight admiration for the guts of that seven-year-old, although she was only eight.

But admiration or not, she played to win. Finally, with a minute into the end, she soared, landing her final kick on his 'Zhōng Dān Tián' - Solar Plexus - the center of his upper abdomen, and he fell with a grunt.

Xichen landed. Her arms hurt. If he somehow got up, she wouldn't be up to any challenge. The blue of her robe was now largely pink. And her entire body still felt weak after the minor Qi deviation, but still, she stood on alert.

For nearly 30 seconds, Zixuan struggled. Valiantly, to be honest. Even as Xichen was sure the abdomen hit had been so brutal, considering his teary eyes. She felt bad for it. She didn't want to hurt that badly.

But finally, he gave up, raising his hand with three fingers, a gesture of admitting defeat. Xichen let out a relieved breath. She won.

Zixuan, still immobile, laid on the floor, a hand clutching his abdomen, one arm thrown across his face, to hide the tears.

Xichen felt guilt smothering her inside. She didn't mean to hurt that bad...

Even as her body kept protesting, and her arms screamed in agony, she lowered herself to the floor to help him out. Zixuan looked appropriately surprised. She was the one bleeding openly, after all.

"Are you alright, Jin-gonzi?' Helping him sit upright, even as her bleeding increased, she asked. Zixuan didn't deny her, but his gaze was focused on the blood.

"Jin-gonzi?" She tried again, slowly getting on her feet, not wanting to show how unsteady she also was to the public, just as Zixuan let himself just stay, until the tears dried out.

Xichen felt bad for them - all of them. The price of being a great cultivator was too high at times.

"I'm fine," he finally croaked, biting his lips hard in pain as he slowly got up. She did her best to keep her arms steady, so he had leverage to get up, but inside, if her body could, it would've certainly complained about Xichen's abuse of its usage. She felt dizzy for a moment when Zixuan accidentally hit a wound.

How ironic? Two prodigal cultivators. Putting on masks and masquerading as pain to appear strong to a public that they had nothing to prove to. Bittersweet, in hindsight.

When she finally directed the boy to his Sect, Luo Qingyang immediately took him from Xichen's arms, softly admonishing his carelessness. But it was clear how much she cared for the boy, briefly reminding her of her own Shixiongs. Qingyang was evidently a much better friend to Zixuan than Zixun ever could be, his only gesture extending to wail like a birthing cow when his Cousin was so clearly in pain. Useless.

Even with delirious pain, Xichen bowed to her opponent, turning to leave for her own Sect, who was looking at her with both concern and pride. Above them, Jiangs were the same, but Wuxian had also started her hype squad, hollering her praises, and Wanyin joining in at intervals. The childish pettiness can never be rivaled. Xichen thought, amused, shaking her head fondly.

Yanli, on the other hand, had just concern on her face. And if Xichen had to guess, to both Zixuan and her, seeing how her eyes darted between them. Yanli really would be a great partner, if only Zixuan had eyes to see. She already cared for him.  A lot.

But before she could leave, a hand grabbed her. Warm, sweaty. She looked down to see Zixuan staring at her, slightly uncomfortable but not hesitant. She awaited the explanation, even if she wanted a seat.

"Thank you," he mumbled, expressing gratitude that was foreign to him. Some disciples looked curious at that that but Qingyang just smiled, with an expression of 'finally, character growth'. Xichen felt herself mirroring that.

But Xichen kept her silence, letting him elaborate, even as he searched for words.

"You-you didn't have to be nice about it. Dropping your sword and letting the match be without weapons. You could've won faster," He stated, red, embarrassed, but sincere enough to keep his gaze on her face. Xichen was again reminded that this was just a kid, too. Like her.

"I just wanted you to see that fragility, as you see, is not weak. It's just another form of strength. More quiet. More timely. Besides, you tried to distract me with gold, so I ought to return the favor," She added with a tilting tease. Next to Zixuan, Qingyang exploded into laughter.

"Oh my Gods, you are my new favorite person! I told this dumba- I mean, Jin-gonzi to not to wear them in so plain terms. But he was somehow convinced," Considering that she said that looking at a Jin Zonzhu who was so plainly clenching his teeth behind a smile, Xichen could guess whose ridiculous idea it was to utilize such an obvious scheme.

"Mianmian!" Zixuan almost yelled, ashamed.

"What, my Lord?" Her tone was mocking. "If you had half the brain cells of your monthly spending, you'd be much higher in your place in life," She spat out. Xichen bit her lip to keep her grin at bay. She stood by her initial assessment. She did like Luo Qingyang.

"I'm the Sect Heir. You can't talk like this." Zixuan's words were a mere whisper, eyes downcast at the brunt of her commentary.

"Well, I'll swear allegiance to a different Heir, then. Lan Xichen, anyone who can make this one drop down a peg or two is truly formidable. I'd serve you in all the loyalty I can muster," Qingyang professed, hand held like an oath, teasing Zixuan further.

Xichen laughed at that. Their dynamic was so lively.

"I'm eternally grateful, Luo-guaniang," She joined in, her dimple making an appearance. Qingyang whistled.

"Wow, pretty and badass. We're going to be great friends, if I don't end up proposing marriage. Call me, Mianmian," she said with a wink, making Xichen grin wider. Luo Qingyang was honestly great. And so comfortable to be around.

"You as well, Mianmian. And call me Xichen, if we're going to be friends," She conceded, letting the other girl give her a side hug.

All this time, Zixuan sat in the middle, looking way more pained than he looked from the abdominal hit, making Xichen smile again. But he got up on shaking feet to bow back to her, fisting some ointment - a very expensive one only found in Lanling Jin to stop the blood.

"Thank you for saving my dignity, Lan-guaniang. I'm not Mianmian, but I hope we can be friends too." Then the boy had bowed, too deeply, almost throwing himself into a concussion if Mianmian hadn't kept him steady. Xichen shook her head fondly. Zixuan wasn't half bad, after all.

"I hope so too, Jin-gonzi."

She was immediately huddled as soon as she was back in her Sect, Wangji looking pale at the state of her dress, bloody, and shattered. But he soothed a little, seeing her smiling expression. Not enough to stop glaring Jin Zixuan to Netherworld from a few feet away, but enough to stop the murder parade if needed. That was better than him going and stomping a future Sect Leader's foot.

Yuxin-Jie didn't look highly concerned about the blood, saying that it was largely a visual effect and they needed to figure out how deep the wounds were first. But Xiaolian-Jie and Ruiwen-Xiong were worse. Ruiwen-Xiong, still injured by his own bouts, ditched all his treatments to fret about her like a mother hen, and Xiolian-Jie was so scared that she almost undressed Xichen inside the arena to view the wounds.

Yichen-Xiong had to force grab both of them by the ears and seat them back, commanding Xialoian-Jie to attend on Ruiwen-Xiong, and Yuxin-Jie would attend on Xichen. Xichen felt loved by their abysmal behavior, true, but she'd rather they didn't lose their heads. Injuries were common in duels, after all. Yes, she was young, but her opponent had been younger. She'll live.

The Jiangs were their own brand of chaos when they reached her. Yanli, proving herself useful by helping Yuxin-Jie to arrange her medicine, while Wangji had to physically stand in front of her like a tiny bodyguard to stop the bone-crushing hug Wei Wuxian wanted to give her. Xichen had no reservations with affection, even fond of it. But she was sure that if Wuxian hugged her, then with all that intensity of a vindictive toddler who saw his number one nemesis get defeated in real time, she would've probably fracture a bone.

Jiang Wanyin was also grinning, but to his credit, he tried to tamp it down, resorting to dragging Wuxian away from her physically. Even though she didn't say it, she was thankful for that at the moment. As much as she was fond of the boy, her tolerance for chaos was not high-strung when she was bleeding to death. (Well, not death...but one could understand).

What surprised her was the fact that the small Nie Second Heir was back. The boy had already pestered her in the morning enough, and she had to be creative to send him back to his Sect when then did arrive. Nie Mingjue's hollering of 'HUAISANG!' certainly helped too, but the tiny boy, it seemed, was the eye of the storm. Uncontrollable.

Xichen was not in the mood to play gracious host, damn it!

So, her Yichen-Xiong, Gods bless the man, took one for the team.

"Nie-er-gonzi, what brings you back?" His voice was pleasant, but she saw all the older disciples and even Yanli, smothering a giggle at his very pointed question. He certainly knew how to wield his words to be inconspicuous enough to sound genuine, but the wielded meaning also came across without hindrance.

"Oh, I wanted to see if Xichen-jie was okay. She took a tumble there."

Huaisang's large green eyes were genuinely worried, and Xichen felt her reservations melting away. He was just trying to help, probably not understanding that all she needed now was not intervention but rest.

"I am fine, Huaisang." She smiled at him, straightening from where she was leaning into Yuxin-jie. "I'll be good as new for the finals."

"You will need to be. My Da-ge is a demon with that blade." His voice was disgusted when he said 'blade', but Xichen clocked onto something even faster. Huaisang talked as if Nie Mingjue was already guaranteed to be in the finals when his fight with Wen Zhuliu was only being announced then. She directed her attention to her older disciples. None of them reacted to that comment.

Lans always admonished arrogance - baseless superiority. And their faces remaining unchanged meant the comment was not made with Pretension but was simply factual. How good was Nie Mingjue?

"Jiejie is good," Wangji spoke up, glaring at the boy, momentarily dissipating the tension occupying her back. She reached out to shuffle his hair, placating his fiery glance. Wangji was the best support in the world.

"Oh, I'm sure!" Huaisang agreed easily. "Da-ge was also very impressed," his voice tittering on something mischievous. Xichen didn't want to, but she could feel her cheeks getting warmed up. Control yourself, Xichen!

Involuntarily, her eyes looked at Nie Mingjue across the Arena, now preparing for his bout. Confident, assured, ready. He looked like a seasoned veteran of battle rather than a boy of mere 10 years of age. Baxia was already unsheathed and resting on his palm like an extension of himself. He held that saber like how a painter would hold his brush or a poet would wield his words. Natural. At ease.

And that was...strangely magnetic, and terrifying.

As if sensing her gaze, his eyes met hers. He was surprised for a mere moment, but Xichen didn't look away. Mingjue didn't either, inclining his head towards Jin Zixuan and looking back at her with a slight smile. This time, he actually looked like he was smiling, proud and happy, telling her she did a good job with his expression alone.

She inclined her head back, smiling in thankfulness. Then something she never thought would happen, happened. He grinned. Openly. Eyes crinkling.

Oh. He looked...

He looked happy. Content. It was the best look on him so far.

But before she could do much else, Zonghui was talking to Mingjue again - right, he had a battle.

Xichen turned towards her companion, willing herself not to blush, but she caught Wangji's gaze, head tilted, lips pressed. That little gremlin saw her, and he was having such fun that his eyes were alight with amusement. Next to him, Huaisang was much more open in his own, grinning from ear to ear. And when he opened his mouth, Xichen knew she might have to dig herself a grave.

"Actually, Da-ge sent me here, Xichen-Jie." That kid, for a toddler, had an unhealthy obsession with his dramatics. Content to play a side character but enjoying the show all the same.

"Here. These are bindings, the best in Qinghe Nie. Da-ge didn't want you to be suffering when you two fight at the finals." With an honest to Gods wink, Huaisang finished, thrusting the bindings into her hand and sprinting away to his Sect.

Xichen looked at the tape on her hand. They were good. Keeping her sore muscles soothed enough to continue. And if she was right, these bindings were only for the elite fighters of Qinghe Nie. Not even the common disciple gets them.

Because Qinghe Nie was the antithesis of Lanling Jin's luxury. They despised extravagant displays of wealth, and these...they were expensive enough to only be allocated for the best.

Finally, the blush Xichen kept valiantly at bay escaped, flushing her.

Gods, why was this happening to her?

The Gong sounded, declaring the start of the bout, thankfully taking everyone's inquisitive gaze off her flushed face and back to the Arena. (Not Wangji, though, he had even bitten his lip when she flushed, but, at least, this time, he graciously turned away from her when she needed)

Xichen composed herself. She was supposed to fight one of those two next (Probably, Mingjue, but Zhuliu was phenomenal in his own right. He can't be outpaced that quickly)

Mingjue looked focused. Still relaxed, but eyes sharp. Zhuliu looked emotionless, like a mathematician, just a matter of calculation. They were both circling each other with interest, taking their time to understand each other.

They have fought before, in previous competitions, but it was also quite obvious that their skills have developed way beyond how they appeared in the past year. Mingjue's Baxia was spinning in his hand, almost absentmindedly. Zhuliu's sword was stuck, held in a defensive position.

But there was such cautiousness to both fighters.

Then, almost a minute later, Zhuliu advanced, engaging his sword with Baxia, but his hand outstretched towards Mingjue. Well, that was a good strategy. If Zhuliu wanted to win, he had to drain Mingjue out.

Mingjue had one of the most powerful golden cores, allegedly, but there were people with more. It was a matter of fact of utilizing that energy. And Mingjue knew exactly how to do that in combat.

But Mingjue didn't falter; he didn't defend his stance but counterattacked, forcing Zhuliu to step back, and preventing his actions in one go.

Xichen had noted the Nie style to be confrontational, but Mingjue gave new meaning to the word. Relentless in his parries, swirling and attacking so hard, so fast that Xichen was breathless outside the Arena just to keep up with the hits. Zhuliu was surely feeling the brunt as well, as his usual emotionless face changed with time, brows furrowing.

But Mingjue was also...cautious. A word she thought she would never use with the man. He was openly attacking the left side, not letting himself be veered to veneer into right, even as Zhuliu pushed back just as hard.

The blows kept up, both of them clashing again and again.

Whenever Zhuliu even remotely came closer, Mingjue advanced fast, still maintaining distance. And as hard as she tried to read his steps, except for the fact that he favored his right hand attacks, she couldn't read anything else. He blocked, sidestepped, twirled - a whole lot of footwork so uncoordinated that it almost gave her a migraine, considering how particular and patterned she was.

But never out of control - no. It was controlled chaos. Making him deadly unpredictable.

Zhuliu was also having a hard time with him, as evident, trying to take offense but forced to a defensive stance again and again. Every clash of their swords sent a ripple across the audience with passing time, the hits getting progressively harder.

And the onlookers had been right about Baxia; it almost felt like the sword was guarding Mingjue. In the seconds he came close to Zhuliu's hand, like second nature, Baxia was there, blocking the attack. It probably attested to how innate the fight was within Mingjue.

But that wasn't to say Mingjue was having the time of his life. Zhuliu was just as good. His blade was flexible enough to actually bend without breaking when Baxia trained on it hard, his body more agile than his opponents', maneuvers clean and crisp.

But Xichen could read him - and that was, with someone like Mingjue, a disadvantage.

The first hit landed, sending the entire Nie Sect to a cheer, Nie Zongzhu so openly proud in clapping for his son. Xichen almost felt jealous at that naked pride and love on his face. She had never seen it for herself.

Zhuliu had a deep cut on his blade shoulder, so clearly, Mingjue knew anatomy too. Precise recklessness. Dangerous.

But like a true fighter, Zhuliu never stepped back, keeping on the attacks. Even as the red of his robes got drenched redder with blood. The hit had apparently given him ammunition for a while because the next cheer was from the Wens. Mingjue's upper thigh was gashed. Deep.

It was no secret that the reigning Wen Zongzhu and Nie Zongzhu were not on good terms. Almost enemies, to be honest. Wen's morally ambiguous train of activities infuriated the righteous fury of Nie. Their practices were so contrasting, and unfortunately, the only similarity they shared was how hot-headed both Sects could be. Having very little regard for diplomacy. Every Sect meeting felt like a war when the two Zongzhus were there.

So, perhaps, their harder hits and murderous intent had to do with personal incentives more than the bout itself.

Mingjue's murderous gaze and Zhuliu's relentless parries attested to that enough.

The bout was nearing its seven minutes when both of them distanced a significant amount. Recalculating. Xichen could see everybody watching with bated breath. She saw how Mingjue's hand swept over his torn clothes, coating red with his own blood. But strangely...it relaxed his stance. Like some sort of stabilizer. As if reiterating to his brain that he had been injured and needed to take care of the bout quickly.

His facial expressions unsettled Xichen. He looked content to fight - eyes flashing, like he was high on the joy of life. His spirit just got rejuvenated.

On the other end, Zhuliu was also examining. His eye gazing at the blood traveling down his shoulder, and with gritted teeth, he adjusted it again. His eyes were pained but steady.

Xichen never thought she would think Zhuliu, of all people, was the normal one out of two fighters. But at that moment, seeing how genuinely pleased Mingjue looked to fight, Xichen thought just that. Who was that boy?

It seemed the bloodhound was being hunted by a demon.

Then they were both airborne, clashing swords, a whirl of action. Xichen could only count so many because they were too fast. Just a ball of Black and red like the most omniscient of signs.

Then, both landed.

She saw the red drops on both their swords that time. Mingjue's hand traveled to his chest while Zhuliu's clutched his stomach. They've both landed hits.

The audience immediately started shouting. Both Wens and Nies were clearly agitated. Wen Chao specially, especially after finally coming back after Ruqiu's hit, was screaming like a banshee. She didn't listen closely enough to know. He never said anything useful. His older brother, on the other hand, was looking solely at Mingjue, and Xichen caught the look he exchanged with his father up on the pavilion.

She didn't know what exactly, but they certainly didn't look pleased.

It was the final three minutes. Xichen was beginning to feel scared that these two might not stop until one was dead at this rate. Both their expressions pinched. And she knew damn well that nobody would dare intervene a duel - even if the competitors were only 11 and 10 tears in age.

Wen Zhuliu , for the first time, looked completely disheveled. Shouting a battle cry before launching himself at Mingjue . Hand outstretched that Xichen knew that the hit was going to be significant.

But Mingjue , even though he was still frowning, had calmed down with each injury. Truly looking like a predator. He stayed grounded on his feet, letting Zhuliu advance. And then at the very last moment, twisted his frame, catching him by the wrist of his outstretched hand and slamming him down with a clear arc over his head.

Everybody in the audience sucked in a breath, Xichen included. That hit, even if she was nowhere near that Arena, she felt in her bones. She'd have no surprises if the ground itself had cracked. (Of course, she was exaggerating, but the hit truly felt powerful.)

For an entire 30 seconds, the audience was eerily silent. Mingjue didn't lift his head, still staring at the opponent, but Xichen could see that Zhuliu was now battling consciousness.

Finally, his head tilted, and he fainted, and the gong sounded. Audience erupting into applause.

But Xichen felt winded. She was supposed to fight this boy in the evening!

Then Mingjue straightened. Bowing deep to the audience and his opponent, even helping out the Wens who had come to collect Wen Zhuliu's unconscious form.

But before he fully stepped out of the Arena, his eyes looked directly at hers. A plain challenge mixed with a hint of teasing. As if to say, 'This is me. Do you think you can take it on?

Xichen steeled herself, even as she felt trepidation closing in on her. No, she will not let anyone rattle her. Composed, she arched an eyebrow.

'See for yourself'

And Mingjue smirked opposite the arena. Almost soft and tender but mischievous all the same.

Chapter Text

31 years ago

Xichen's final round was announced for the evening, letting the Seniors take the Arena. And to no one's surprise, Yichen-Xiong advanced to the finals within seven minutes, his precision higher than the Jin disciple, whose entire cultivation strategy was distance and accuracy. Apparently, the Jin disciple was also a bad sport about it, pushing Yichen-Xiong away when he offered to help, with a furious hiss.

He only succeeded in making himself look like a fool since her Shixiong still bowed graciously like the good person he is, thanking her for a good round, and exited the arena. Even the rest of the Jin disciples were in awe of him. Really, Yichen-Xiong was so easily likable and a very hard person to hate.

Besides, the titled ' Mizhen ' was already guaranteed a spot. Even if that particular Jin disciple lashed out in the height of loss, Xichen was sure that even he would have expected Yichen-Xiong to have advanced. He was the reigning champion; why would he not?

His other finalist happened to be Wen Xu, the Qishan Wen Heir, who disgusted Xichen to the point of nausea when he casually licked the blood on his hands when the opponent's blade made a huge red gash on his palm. He had the audacity to even smile in the most psychotic way afterwards, blood on his teeth. It was such a gruesome image that Wangji, though he was so apathetic to public affection, turned his head into her sleeve. She saw how his face was so utterly pinched at that, disgusted like her.

Ruiwen-Xiong didn't really bother with any reactions, apparently seeing Wen Xu in 'far worse states' in night hunts, to quote, but he did look slightly concerned for his brother, muttering something about how 'bloodthirsty' the man had gotten in a year's difference. Yichen-Xiong had only smiled at him with a pat on the back. Frame so completely relaxed and had stated something that will haunt Xichen worse than the image of Wen Xu licking blood.

With pleasant indifference, his voice in his usual calm, Yichen-Xiong had said, 'Even blood has a flow, Didi. If I control the flow, who'll control me?' so assured, so confident.

Xichen had never felt scared of Yichen-Xiong, even when she had dueled him and he had broken her to the point of passing out within 10 hits, even when her body and mind felt wrecked - because she knew he had no intent of hurting her, that he despised her fate just as much as he despised hit, that battling a mere 8 year old when he was 18 and one of the best in his generation was unfair. But the moment she heard that statement, Xichen looked at him differently, feeling slightly spooked.

Realizing that his control and fortitude were the only things that were keeping him from being unrestrained, being evil. And she respected him all the more for it, cemented in the fact that Yichen-Xiong will bring home the Championship of the Senior Category. Again.

And she'll try to do the same with the Novel - that was her only goal at the moment.

Before the final bouts commenced, they were asked to rest and potentially patch up any bleeding injuries. Even if he didn't say it, Ruiwen-Xiong was slightly ecstatic not to fight again. He had already secured his place as the 2nd runner-up in the Intermediate Category, and now he was free to roam and be actually free, bothering Xiolian-Jie as any dedicated best friend would.

But unfortunately for him, her Shufu, seeing that he was apparently well enough to be asked to join the rest of the disciples who were on active duty as hosts of the Festival.

There was a lot to be done after all. The evening ceremony was going to be the final event of the Festival, the final bouts being the last item on the itinerary.

Only Xichen, Yichen-Xiong, and Ruiwen-Xiong had been excused from duties; they represented the Sect, but now that Ruiwen-Xiong was out, he was immediately back to working mode.

To his credit, Ruiwen-Xiong did try to weasel his way out, sprouting something about his body still being tired (mostly true since Lans didn't lie. It was forbidden), but Xichen also knew that despite that exhaustion, he would've been running around if not delegated to something.

Yet, nobody said no to Lan Qiren. So when her Shufu looked at him with narrowed eyes, her Shixiong immediately backtracked and went off to duties as delegated, disheartened.

But Xiolian-Jie was cackling behind him, saying something about how it served him right for trying to escape and teasing her about it. Xichen didn't understand their friendship. Their entire affection thrived on making fun, but she also knew they would jump in front of a sword for each other...all the while complaining about it not being ideal.

Besides, Xiaolian-Jie couldn't gravitate around Yuxin-Jie this day, considering Yuxin-Jie was one of the medical assistants employed. And with injured Cultivators with bleeding arms and broken legs were there, who were not allowed to use golden core healing until the end of the Competition, she had many casualties in her hand to coddle her Shimei.

Xichen took some rest, allowing herself to lie down while Yuxin-Jie cleaned her blood and applied the tape that Nie Huaisang had given her...allegedly from Nie Mingjue. The warm water bath clearly helped too, exhaustion dulling for a moment.

Wangji was also somewhere in her room, sorting out new clothes for her since her last robe ripped from Jin Zixuan's hit. She didn't really love that robe anyway - the only reason she kept it around was because it was a Shufu's gift. But at least now, she had a valid justification to throw it out.

Yuxin-Jie was there with an elderly medic as well. She was oiling up her limbs with some clear ointment, the one Zixuan gave her, muttering about it being a good product. Xichen didn't know for sure, but it helped. Enough for her to slightly doze off.

When she was finally shaken awake, only Yuxin-Jie was there, aiding her to her clothes, having sent Wangji outside and the elderly medic off to treat Yichen-Xiong in his own chamber.

Xichen only noticed the outer robe when Yuxin-Jie was putting it on her.

'For Gods sake, Wangji !'

Xichen just knew that her gremlin of a brother was outside the door with light eyes and a pleasing look because the outer robe he had picked out was the exact outer robe Xichen had given Huaisang when the boy had already drowned. The one he returned just this morning. The one she wore when Mingjue had given her his - both of the flushed to their roots. Wangji was too much sometimes!

Yuxin-Jie gave her a puzzled look when she finally finished tying the waistband, seeing her blush. Xichen just smiled idiotically. What else was she to do?

Just you wait, Wangji!

She hoped that, at the very least, Mingjue wouldn't remember the robe so vividly.

She was dueling the boy! Not....whatever.

By the time Xichen reached the Arena, the fights had already commenced.

She knew all the Senior Disciples who advanced to Proper Cultivators had already given their badges of honor, just after the previous rounds. Her Shufu had asked her to come in earlier for that particular celebration if she wanted, but she had already seen the rehearsals earlier. Besides enjoying herself in music and dancing didn't seem ideal when she could revise a few forms again, when going against Nie Mingjue.

But Ruiwen-Xiong and Xiaolian-Jie were both exuberant about it - big smiles on their faces, saying it went perfect. They were Lans through and through, so if they said it went well, it had indeed gone well.

Xichen was glad. It was after a decade that Gusu Lan was hosting the Festival. If it happened without a hiccup, then their social standing could plummet further, especially considering that the Zongzhu had been absent throughout it, except for the very first day. Even if many Sects wouldn't consider her father's absence an anomaly or a slight, she knew for a fact that Jin Guangshan was rattling the gossip behind the screen about his absence, and so was the Chief Cultivator, Wen Ruohan.

Nobody except the Lans knew about his self-imprisonment after all. And her Shufu had been running himself ragged to mask his lack of presence as well as maintain the perfect Festival as the acting Zongzhu. Xichen wished he were...most of the time. Lan Qiren was more than apt and very well deserving of the position.

So, Lans being in high spirits soothed her a little. It meant the celebration was a success.

But still, the nerves inside her body were not dissipating as swift. She didn't fear fighting against Mingjue, maybe even excited. But there was still some apprehension. If he slammed Zhuliu so hard that the boy fainted, if Xichen made one mistake...she didn't want to think of the outcome. Even more than that, she didn't want to allow him an opportunity to be a 'gentleman'. Going easy on her just because of her sex.

She wanted everyone to know that she was there, not because she didn't have hardships, not because there was consideration on her behalf, but purely due to her merit.

When she entered the Arena, the bout with Ruqiu and Zonghui had already begun, both scores nearly tied, with Ruqiu leading by only one. But she knew at the seventh minute, one point was enough for Ruqiu to start defending his stance. Not necessarily landing more scores, just keeping Zonghui from scoring any. It briefly felt like an elephant and a mouse were fighting, and as per the myths, even the elephant was scared of the mouse.

To no one's astonishment, the bout ended soon enough. Despite Zonghui's relentless strength, Ruqiu was crafty and flexible. He won with a leading point and his head held high, a large grin on his face as soon as the Gong rang. Zonghui was also clearly impressed. This was the second time in the competition they were paired because in the initial Sectional fights, they were in the same Section, and Ruqiu had won both.

A truly formidable adversary despite his physical limitations. When Zonghui bowed, he purposefully went lower than Ruqiu, signifying admiration.

It was a nice end to the Intermediate Category - closing off with its Champion and Runners-up in the most respectful manner (although they both were bleeding from several injuries) and a genuine good sportsmanship.

She just hoped her bout and Yichen-Xiong's also would have the same outcome.

She only saw Mingjue when she was stepping into the Arena, but it was clear he had noticed her earlier.

There was a small upturn of lips on his face, eyes slightly wide with surprise, and perhaps it was the Sunlight, but the top of his cheekbones looked unnaturally pink. And he was staring at her, especially at her clothes.

Puzzled, she let her own eyes roam his figure, wondering what happened to that confident boy from a few hours ago and...oh.

Xichen could then deduce that the color on his cheeks was definitely not the sun, certain that her cheeks were also blushing.

Mingjue was wearing the same robe from that day. The robe he had dropped on her shoulders, the one she returned to him this morning, and the one that suspiciously smelled like her scent because she was the one who had cleaned it. Sandalwood.

She could very well understand his predicament. But she also found the situation amusing. So the next huff of laughter from her was involuntary, her dimple appearing for a single second.

Mingjue let out his own breath of amusement, biting his lip to keep the smile off his face, but his reaction was delayed by a second too long; his eyes were stuck on her.

What had he been thinking? Maybe to use this sudden amusement as a distraction? Xichen briefly thought that, too, but using such means felt too superficial for both of them. Mingjue nor she was the type to use such silly coincidences for their gain, not in a duel. From what she had seen, Mingjue respected the duel decorum just as much as she did.

Then, why the late reaction?

While she thought on it, her eyes wandered to the back of Mingjue, where his disciples were sitting.

Huaisang at the very front, little legs too short for the ground, leaning heavily on Zonghui, who was smirking slightly, eyes alight. Conversely, Huaisang was cackling loudly, Mingjue sending him a withering glare at that laughter.

Xichen didn't want to overhear, but Huaisang clearly didn't understand indoor voice. So, his lean-in whisper to Zonghui felt more like a declaration. The older boy even flinched a little at the loudness.

'Da-ge might not win the bout, after all!' His voice was full of mirth, a glimmer of amusement in his green orbs, literally bouncing on the seat.

Xichen expected Zonghui to disagree. He was Mingjue's closest friend, as reported. Or any of the disciples. They were all fiercely loyal to Mingjue and so assured in his caliber, and rightfully so. But none of them made a reverse comment. Half of them turned away to escape the murderous glare Mingjue threw at them, while the other half either looked skyward, bit their lips, fanned themselves, or did a bunch of random things to keep themselves occupied. But what was similar in all of them was that the same mirth in Huasiang's eyes was reflected in them.

What was happening? Was there a mechanism that Xichen didn't know of? Was this a tactic?

So, when Mingjue finally was done appropriately glaring at his Sect and turned back to her, she was assessing him. Even after noting his little apologetic smile, she felt like she was missing something.

Well, there was nothing she could do now.

She entered the Arena with him in equal footsteps, ready to start the bout. And just as soon, the Gong sounded. The round was alive.

She could see Mingjue was still not in the correct headspace, and to be honest, neither was she. She was also marginally flustered by the turn of events. But Xichen truly never expected Mingjue to be worse than her. Well, she had clearly thought wrong.

This warlord of a 10-year-old, who took active joy in a good fight, was abashed. She would have never thought it would come.

But they can deduce what happened later. For now, Xichen had a duel to finish.

She started circling him, Shuoye drawn and aimed, body going into a battle stance. To her disappointment (and faint admiration, Xichen may as well admit to that), Mingjue snapped right out of his fluster the moment her sword was drawn. Focused. Dark eyes so unrelenting that she almost felt trapped. He was observing her now, without a hint of previously shared amusement.

And Xichen was aware she was the same; she felt herself frowning, trying to note his own footwork, which changed without a pattern - her mind driving her crazy at that chaos. She needed her patterns, her control to be sustained. Nie Mingjue's fighting style was the very antithesis of hers.

But it made her focus heightened. Finally, she noticed not the pattern but the reasoning for his chaos. The subtle tics that gave away when he would adopt a certain frame. Yichen-Xiong was right earlier. Even blood had a flow. Why won't this?

His stances were not just from one technique. She saw a certain element of Jin in them, Wen, Jiang, and even Lan. It was a combination, but not necessarily. It was a culmination of everything and nothing at all, simultaneously. And there were also Nie specifics to it too - the grounding feet, earth always so firm under his strong stance.

It wasn't ideal. But she could attempt this. At least now, she was armored the best way she knew how to be. With knowledge.

Neither of them advanced for a full minute, Mingjue assessing hers as well. But he already knew what to expect. She was nothing extraordinary in her physical usage of techniques than other Lan disciples. What could be unusual was the way she used her mind in utilizing them.

Briefly, Mingjue's eyes met hers. Neither of their gazes was wide and soft anymore. Focused and driven. And there was a challenge in his then. Urging her to take the first strike. She didn't.

He was baiting her. After all, the hubris of a cultivator was the easiest to attack, most jumping the gun to accept issued challenges. Xichen was not much different, but she had also learned self-control way beyond many.

A girl in a man's world never had the luxury of being impatient, after all.

So, her eyebrows rose, tilting her head. Mingjue's eyes had that glint of battle when he saw a worthy opponent. When he gets the urge to go feral like he did with Zhuliu.

Right away, he just shook his head, entertained. But after almost another half a minute, he conceded. Attacking her first.

Xichen met him blade to blade and almost wished she hadn't. How heavy was that damned Blade? She genuinely thought that Shuoye might break at the impact, hands shaking to keep the lock of blades. Mingjue was clearly physically much stronger. The power of his single-handed blow needed both of hers to defend.

Then he twirled away, relentless parrying, hit after hit after hit.

Xichen didn't have time to think about her actions, being cornered with each one, her only goal was to meet him halfway, not letting him get an in. But he was too relentless. The parry stopped only when there was a bloody gash on her forearm, another outer robe torn, the blue drenched in red.

Mingjue's predatory eyes momentarily changed at that, almost reaching with concern. But he caught himself, keeping up the attack.

Xichen liked him a bit more for that. A good fighter never allowed sentimentality to hinder their precision. She could welcome concern outside the Arena, but here, it was a pity. She'd rather have him make a stew out of her than slow down because she was injured. It was her fault she was; let her pay.

And let her pay, he did. Another hit landed, and Xichen felt the bindings untangling. But she didn't spare that a thought. She needed to get out of the corner.

In a manner he didn't expect, she threw her sword into the air, momentarily confusing him enough to duck under his arm and catch Shuoye behind him. Now, he was the one cornered.

Let's see how he likes it.

Mingjue looked impressed by her diversion, but she didn't let him do anything else. Even as Baxia met her sword at every occasion, he missed once, and his outer robe fell open, hanging about his frame, when it was torn apart by her sword. He paid it no attention.

And there it was, the maniacal spark in his eyes as it tracked the blood on his chest. When his eyes met hers, they seemed wolfish. Devious. Not a hint of human compassion. It briefly unsettled her. But she steeled herself. This was what she expected.

Then he was airborne, attacking her with rejuvenated vigor. Baxia was flying everywhere, attacking her legs, chest, and any other visceral anatomical sections of the body.

This was what bothered her. She had hoped Mingjue's attack was as reckless as she initially thought, but no. They were very restrained in control. Precise - demanding - accurate. She jumped over the blade, outmaneuvering most of the time, not really keen on parrying. Both her arms were injured, which was weakening her.

But Mingjue, on equal sense, was breathless, the wound on his chest affecting the balance of his torso.

Yet, it didn't seem to slow things down. With bated breath, his attacks came faster and faster. She wondered whether any wandering eye could truly track them, their movements. Even within the fight, she had resorted to instinct.

Shuoye made another hit on his waist, dragging it, making him bleed, and on instinct, he kicked her, right on the chest, making her fly back a few paces.

So, the hit had truly pained him. Good.

Getting up with a cough, Xichen saw him gazing at the wound, slightly hunched. Eyes now, even more ferocious - almost murderous. He straightened, blood dripping onto the floor, the black leather of his robe hiding any patch of it.

Xichen's eyes briefly glanced at the clock - two minutes left. Both scored equally. The entire audience was watching in silence.

This time, she attacked, not giving him enough time to recover. But to his credit, Mingjue was great, despite her incessant attack on his injured side; he fought her with the vigor of a boy in the height of his physical capability. Sometimes there was an unconscious wince, but nothing more. His face was now devoid of anything but a promise of murder.

Xichen was aware that she probably looked the same.

His footwork became faster, defense turning to offense, backing her with sheer raw strength. Urging him to parry was a mistake.

Then his next hit landed, cutting her wrist, and Shuoye almost fell before she caught it on the unsteady hand. Taking that opportunity, Mingjue's next hit came, making her ungracefully land on her back.

And he charged. But she immediately got up, again locking the swords, too close-close enough to hear and feel both their deflating breaths. They were both exhausted, bleeding out. Both of them have landed solid hits.

And her knee had hit hard on the fall; she could feel it swollen, just a little, and it hurt to move.

But Mingjue's thigh was still injured from the previous bout.

Engaging another party, she started, at the last moment changing the trajectory and slamming her leg down on the wound, sending Mingjue hissing with pain..

But she knew she had given away too much that time. Targeting wounds meant desperation. And she did just that. And she was bloody exhausted.

Mingjue's lips twisted into a ruthless smirk, even if his kneecaps probably took a fall with how hard he fell on them, but clearly, adrenaline was pouring through him. He still stood tall.

Then he was on her again, the last minute ringing in their ears and a storm of clashes. Her arms felt like lead, keeping up with the sheer power of Baxia. She was truly thankful for Shuoye at the moment, because once she genuinely thought Baxia might pierce through her, Shuoye was hard enough to hold the hit.

30 seconds. His crucial blow landed. Probably a few centimeters away from the Brachial point, and her right arm was immobile. Her dominating arm. She switched the sword, but Mingjue knew he had her.

He twirled Baxia in his arms like a spinner even as she grounded on the defense. But she knew it was useless.

The hit landed. Right on her chest. On the bindings that were unraveling from the wounds, it was wrapped up from previous bouts. She fell.

10 seconds.

She tried to get up. She really did. But her arms were screaming at her. Still, she managed a kneeling position. Willing all the will she could possibly muster, she leaned heavily to Shuoye, slowly getting up, but no...

The hit had hit right. She was wheezing. And she fell to her knees again.

The Gong rang.

Mingjue had won, and she...she had lost.

To be truthful...Xichen was disappointed. She had been close. So close to claiming that victory.

But at the same breath, she was glad. Mingjue truly was exceptional. Holding on to the fight till the very last second, that was a win in and of itself. She did her best. It fell short. But she still had done everything she could.

The entire audience was on their feet. Screaming and cheering. Xichen knew most of them were especially happy that despite her gained status, a 'girl' hadn't become the ultimate champion in the category.

Xichen had wanted to prove her worth. And she did. But had she won...

No, she did what she could. Do not let society sway you from what you know to be right. That was the rule, and she was a Lan. She would follow that.

She stayed in her kneeling position for a moment longer, only looking up when she saw the boots in her tunnel of vision.

Mingjue was there, his eyes back to soft, earnest - the murderous gaze gone. And with a slight cough, he held out his hand, offering her to stand, like she did to all her opponents earlier.

Oh, the irony.

But she still took the hand, leaning on him and getting up, even if her legs were screaming at her for putting pressure. She had to give the duel a proper end. It was the hardest she had thus far. Exhilarating. Terrifying. Real.

But before she could, Mingjue was bowing to her, his waist injury forgotten, and it was a proper bow. Deep, bent at the waist. That silenced the crowd for a minute, Xichen hastily repaying the gesture.

When they straightened, Mingjue was looking at her in admiration, the same respect she had for him. And she wanted to let him know. He was formidable.

"You-"

"I-"

They started at the same time, a repetition of an event, both laughing at that. But Xichen asked him to go first.

"You were impressive. More than impressive for a-"

If he completed that sentence with 'girl', Xichen swore to herself, her admiration would plummet straight to the ground, and she would battle the boy outside the duel, even if it was against the rules. But Mingjue just smiled, almost charmed, when her eyebrows furrowed in warning, as if sending her thoughts.

"-new competitor"

Wait, what?

Seeing her look of confusion, his smile widened, letting out a little chuckle.

"Did you expect anything else, Lan-guaniang?" His voice was innocent enough, but the look in his eyes told her he was teasing. Xichen smiled at that, her dimple appearing again. Momentarily, he froze as if time had stopped. But when she blinked, he was okay again. She was probably heavy on bloodless and imagined it.

"A little. The earlier times with those phrasings ended with 'girl'. I don't believe I'm particularly fond of that. Her voice was also easier in its flow. Comfortable.

"Well, they were clearly blind," Mingjue's voice stated, completely certain. "Anyone with functioning eyes could see how good a fighter you are, Lan-guaniang. I am not exaggerating when I say you were the hardest competition for me thus far. Even if this was my third time here. I thought I lost."

Mingjue stated, sincerely, still holding on to her arm, but keeping a distance from anything else, helping her to her Sect.

It was a great honor to be the hardest opponent of Nie Mingjue. Xichen felt validated.

"Besides, this was your first time. I'm sure by next year, you might just make the title yours," His eyes downturned with a small smile, he had uttered. And Xichen had felt seen, reassured. By a small 10-year-old than most adults in her life. Adults who didn't know how to really take care of the 8-year-old she was.

"Thank you, Nie-gonzi," she said, smiling at him again, and for a second, his hand tightened on her hold, saving him from a misstep. What was happening? Was his injury really bad, too?

"That was exceptionally sweet of you to say. But I can assure you, you were robust in your own accord. I'm glad I had the opportunity to duel you in the finals."

Mingjue smiled again at her, eyes wide and soft. He really could be a completely different persona, almost adorable...so far away from his usual one.

"Thank you, Lan-guaniang. Although I do feel sad to see the robe I cleaned in such an unusable state," He stated, back to making attempts at conversation.

Wait...he cleaned?!

Did Nie Mingjue wash the robe? Nie Mingjue, who was so chronically allergic to all domestic chores? Xichen willed herself not to flush at that. Why were the Gods testing her lately?

"Me too. I liked the design when I noticed it while cleaning it," Xichen replied, Mingjue's head whipping fast to track her face. But she didn't turn to face him, staring right ahead and wrapping an arm around Wangji when he reached them, his arm wrapping around her waist for support.

Mingjue wanted to reply; she could see that, but she suddenly felt awkward. She was never a person to indulge such information. She was trained in bureaucracy and knew enough not to give away sentiments. She was truthful, but she was also reserved - a fact that she had forgotten all the times she conversed with Nie Mingjue.

But thankfully, taking her out of her musings, Wangji tugged at her robe, making her lean down a little.

"Proud," He whispered, almost secret between them. Wangji knew how hard she had worked, how badly she had wanted to win. Hearing that from him soothed something in her that she didn't know was broken. She smiled at him.

She saw Mingjue looking at the scene with tender eyes, accepting the massive hug Huaisang gave him. Zonghui, next to him, also looked proud. They should be. He deserved that win.

Then Huaisang turned to her.

"I am happy Da-ge won, but honestly, I was rooting for you Xichen-jie." The little menace winked at her, and Mingjue's face immediately looked offended. Xichen let out a huff of laughter. "I think Die was the same," He continued, conspiratorially.

Xichen's eyes turned towards the pavilion. The Zongzhus looking at them. Jin Guangshan, for the first time, she had seen him (or in his life) look thoughtful. Jiang Fengmian genuinely applauded, and a row below, the Jiang siblings, who had finally gone to their Sect, did the same. Wei Wuxian was almost screaming about the move she pulled with the sword distraction and Mingjue's handling of Baxia. A die-hard cheerleader.

Wuxian loved competence. Admired it openly. She knew that just as much as she had his support, now Mingjue did too.

Jiang Wanyin looked like he was still processing the bout. Eyes wide and hands making small motions. But he was clearly impressed. Yanli, on the other hand, was looking at her straight, clapping the hardest, a proud smile on her face which automatically widened more when she met Xichen's gaze. Xichen felt herself mirroring the sentiment.

And then Nie Zongzhu. Mingjue's father. He had a pensive expression on his face, looking between his son and her. But the moment he noticed her look, he broke into a grin, raising his cup, toasting her with the same wink he gave her before. Xichen inclined her head too, as usual, saying thank you with a small smile. Mingjue was lucky to have him as a father. A man who toasted even a defeat.

Xichen briefly wondered what her own father would've done. But then again, Qingheng-Jun was more effective as a statue of representation than an active participant. He would've been staring at her with that same stoic, emotionless expression. Dead but not quite.

What she didn't expect was the next reaction. A sudden body launched itself at her back, propelling both her and Wangji forward. Had it not been for Mingjue's hand, she would've fallen straight to the ground. But that same force quickly hugged her from the back. Xichen laughed at her new friend.

Mianmian-Jie was always way too affectionate.

"You were amazing, Xichen!! With all due respect, Nie-gonzi, I have to admit, I was really rooting for my girl," She said with a mischievous grin, Wangji slightly pushing her frame away with a ferocious frown. Xichen concealed her laughter at that by scratching her nose. Wangji didn't warm up to people fast. He was loyal to a fault for the one he did trust, but until that...it was a very long trial period.

He didn't know Mianmian yet. So, by default, Xichen shouldn't be allowing her near her vicinity. Her little knight.

Behind Mianmian was Zixuan, face-palming at her ludicrous behavior. So completely done with the antics of his best friend. But he managed a grimacing smile at her. Although he spoke to Mingjue first, as expected.

Xichen was well aware that most of the Sect Heirs were already exposed to each other. They usually accompanied their fathers to Sect meetings. They were not allowed anywhere near the discussion chamber, but it was effective to expose the next generation of leaders to each other. In official visits as well, they usually accompanied their fathers.

But considering her own father was more of a hermit on a mountain than a proper Zongzhu, living his recluse life, Xichen was not as exposed. This was the first time she was actually meeting all these faces, putting a visual to the names she had heard. She was far behind in her acquaintance with other Sect Heirs.

"Congratulations, Mingjue-Xiong," Zixuan said, patting Mingjue on the back. Mingjue just gave him an upturn of his lips. So...friends. But not almost. Friendly faces, if she had to deduce.

"You were great as well, Lan-guaniang," Zixuan continued, smiling at her without his usual obnoxious air. She returned the gesture. Perhaps this path of being a Zongzhu wouldn't be so lonely if she had support.

From an unbeatable opponent who respected her, an overconfident boy who was genuine with her...she had two future Zongzhus she wouldn't mind as allies...as friends.

She didn't expect an official tea ceremony to be all that entertaining, but strangely, it was.

Xichen, on the final day of the other Sects' stay with them, was invited to tea, as were all the top four contestants of each category. So there was Mingjue (the champion of the Novel Category), her Jin Zixuan, and Wen Zhuliu, as well as Jiang Ruqiu (Intermediate Champion), Nie Zonghui, Ruiwen-Xiong, Wen Chao, and, as predicted, Yichen-Xiong, who had won the Senior Category, Wen Xu, and two other Jin and Jiang disciples.

It was apparently a celebration of their caliber, but all it had been for the past hour was a thinly veiled insult parade for the Zongzhus. Just looking at her uncle, Xichen knew Lan Qiren was beyond exasperation at the moment.

But she was enjoying herself. She had never sat with the other Zongzhus before. Moreover, their unexpected pettiness was mildly entertaining.

"All I'm saying is the matter could've been solved in a more...peaceful manner." Jin Gunagshan was speaking, waving a fan in his hands, donning an air of elite arrogance. How pretentious? The days at Gusu Lan were hardly ever hot, as they were on top of a mountain. Even more so, it had been raining for nearly three hours. Ruiwen-Xiong, next to her, even had his hands covered by his outer robe since it was actually pretty cold.

She could see that Nie Zongzhu was thinking the same, although, decidedly, he was much more open about his reaction, rolling his eyes so hard that Jiang Ruqiu nearly snorted at the reaction.

"He was a murderer. How much more peaceful do we have to be? I don't necessarily care for any connection you might have with the man, Guangshan. He was terrorizing my people," He spat back, making Jin Guangshan's eyes round, keeping his words neutral. But everyone knew of the connection between this man and Jin Zongzhu - another unsired kid born out of wedlock.

She briefly glanced at Zixuan, three seats away from her. The poor kid had his entire attention on the small sweets on his plate, head lowered as the older disciple of his Sect was imperceptibly patting his back. Xichen genuinely felt bad for him. He should not feel ashamed for the active pursuits of his father, questionable beyond any moral bounds.

"Nie Zongzhu," Wen Ruohan's voice came in thick, a laced warning almost. Not out of any protective instinct towards the fellow Zongzhu, but just to establish his own authority as the Chief Cultivator. He was the oldest among the Zongzhus and had been the Chief Cultivator for nearly a decade. Her father had once been a top contestant for the position, but clearly, he had not maintained the same reputation and level-headedness he should've maintained for such a position. He was not even a proper Zongzhu.

"We do not need to talk about these frivolous political matters now, do we? We are here to celebrate" Her Shufu with his exhausted tone reminded the council, although Jin Zongzhu and Nie Zongzhu were still glaring at each other.

"Of course, of course," Jin Guangshan conceded with a brilliant smile. Her Shufu looked so thoroughly unimpressed that Ruiwen-Xiong had to drink his tea to conceal his laughter. Yichen-Xiong was also amused, if his sparkling eyes had anything to say. Seated between them, Xichen was also trying very hard not to laugh when her Uncle gave Jin Zongzhu his signature 'Disappointed' look.

"Although I have to admit, Nie Zongzhu has very...novel ideas on diplomacy." An open jab at how brutal Nie's treatment of their criminals. But Xichen didn't find any particular fault in it. They were righteous, and none of the punishments were life-threatening from what she knew. Besides, unlike Jins, who were way too crafty, using even criminals to make their own gain, Nies stood on their morality.

"I'm sure not as...creative as your noble pursuits," Nie Zongzhu spat back, reminding the Jin Zongzhu of his own unethical behavior and the way they used fugitives in Jin. Not as a form of redemption, but as a form of opportunism.

At that, Nie Mingjue, seated opposite her, nearly cracked, turning his head away slightly to maintain composure. Xichen even saw Wen Zhuliu coughing at that comeback.

Rendered speechless, Jin Guangshan closed and opened his mouth like a goldfish. Did this man not understand that silence was also an option in a conversation?

Zixuan was nearly toppling over at witnessing how much his father was embarrassing himself. And her Shufu had clearly given up. Sipping his tea almost aggressively.

"Let's move on to the actual discussion of the Night Hunts," Jiang Fengmian, who was so relaxed thus far, finally intervened.

The Night Hunts were to commence a few months from then, at the beginning of the new year. Full 04 months of slaying evil spirits and demons. Xichen felt her skin vibrating with excitement.

"Each Sect can bring up to five disciples of choice - including all of you." Wen Ruohan was saying, but his gaze was fixed on her, piercing. She clutched Yichen-Xiong's hand under the table, and he gave her a small squeeze of reassurance.

"The four senior contestants will lead. Lan Yichen, you will be in charge." Yichen-Xiong nodded his head to the Chief Cultivator.

"You will have to take care of each other; no outside help will be there. If there are any pressing matters, you will be informed via a visitor."

They all nodded their heads in agreement. This was going to be Xichen's first night hunt. She tried to tamp down her joy at the sudden euphoric feeling that invaded her. But it seemed someone did notice.

Mingjue, who sat opposite her, smiled slightly at her, and she tilted her head the same. Nie Zonghui, watching the entire interaction, whispered something in Mingjue's ear, making him sputter indignantly with an elbow hit to the older. But Zonghui was clearly unbothered, smirking at Mingjue openly and even giving her a nod of acknowledgment.

What was that?

Her focus was broken by Ruiwen-Xiong when he leaned over her to whisper something to his brother. The Zongzhus were back with policies - jabs thrown around carelessly.

"Can we excuse ourselves now, Ge? I'd rather sit an entire day at the library," Ruiwen-Xiong whined. Yichen-Xiong just gave him a look that said 'shut up and stay still'. Pouting, Ruiwen-Xiong straightened as Xichen bumped his shoulder slightly in consolation.

She could see that all of the other competitors were ready to leave. Jiang Ruqiu was already leaning on his Shixiong, dozing off. The elder Jin disciple stared into oblivion while Zixuan still kept his eyes on the sweets. The Nie duo was muttering among themselves.

How juvenile.

"The rain seemed to be hardening by the second." Finally, having had enough, her Uncle spoke up, getting the attention.

"It might be difficult to journey if it worsens."

Saying in all the poise he could muster for the other Sects to just leave. Xichen had to bite her lip to keep the snort in when Ruiwen-Xiong coughed to hide the chuckle he let out. Yichen-Xiong's fingers were also twitching. Her Uncle can really be savage when it comes to backhanded statements.

All four Zongzhus turned to him, Jiang Zongzhu biting back his own smile, Nie Zongzhu indifferent, and both Wen and Jin Zongzhus slightly affronted at the audacity. Her Uncle was the only 'acting-Zongzhu' there, status lower than all of the rest. But Lan Qiren worked as he saw fit. He respected status but not blindly. And they were behaving worse than babies.

He gave them his signature eyebrow life, a move that both she and Wangji had adapted involuntarily, silently daring them to question. But before either Jin or Wen Zongzhus could intervene, Nie Zongzhu took matters into his hands.

"That was a sound suggestion. We need to travel back soon. It will take days to get back to Qinghe. I'm not keen on letting my disciples miss their lesson any more than necessary," He said, with a small upturn of lips to her Uncle, incentivizing the motive. Her Uncle gave him a look of gratitude.

"I'm sure no harm would be done, Nie Zongzhu. Your disciples seemed to be in high shape. Our Mingjue, especially, cut quite a figure. Brute strength indeed showed its charm."

Xichen wasn't quite sure whether the Jin Zongzhu was insulting the Nie practices or taking it out on Mingjue by instigating that his strength was the only reason for his win. But he had clearly crossed the limit. Nie Zongzhu was almost seething in anger, his hand going to his saber. He was a father who was always ready to defend his son.

Opposite her, Mingjue stiffened. Being directly addressed by a Zongzhu, but being called a 'brute' with nothing except brawl, in possibly the most subtle but brutal manner. Nie Zonghui was also glaring at the man openly.

It was no secret that Jin Sect placed last amongst the Five Great Sects this year. No disciple from any category made it to the final round. Meanwhile, Lan and Nie were at the top. Even more so, Jin Zixuan was in their category. Had it not been for her and Mingjue, the kid would've been in the finals. But how could he blame another child for his own pettiness?

Hearing his remark, Zixuan whipped his head towards Mingjue, eyes wide, apologetic, conveying that he didn't think the same.

Yes, it was true that Mingjue was physically stronger, but he wasn't the strongest. He had a strategy in his instinctive battle. Control in his chaos. And Jin Guangshan was stupid not to see it or just selectively blind to land an insult on the child who won the place his son could've.

Mingjue shared a look with his father, even though Xichen could see that he didn't take the comment well. His face, which was pleasant thus far, had darkened, orbs dejected. She felt bad for him. No one liked to be known as a brute with no thoughts.

But Mingjue's look was enough for Nie Zongzhu to compose himself. Then, with the most staged laughter ever, Mingjue addressed Jin Guangshan.

"I appreciate the comment, Jin Zongzhu. I am glad you think so much of my well-being. Truly so...benevolent."

His very intended pause had even her Uncle giving him an approving nod, while unbothered Nie Zongzhu laughed out loud. Jiang Fengmian was also smirking. Even Wen Ruohan, despite the Jin-Wen alliance, looked entertained.

Ruiwen-Xiong, next to her, choked on his tea, wiping his mouth while Yichen-Xiong tapped his back.

"I knew I liked that kid," He stated with a smile. Xichen had to agree. Reckless, for sure, but brave all the same.

Zonghui, next to him, was also smiling openly then. Even Jin Zixuan shook his head in amusement while his father sputtered in surprise. Xichen admired Mingjue more when he turned to Zixuan and smiled at him, as if to say, 'I know you are not your father. ' Zixuan grinned at that, truly looking like the 7-year-old he was.

Before Jin Zongzhu could escalate the matter, Jiang Zongzhu intervened.

"Well, nonetheless, Qiren was right. It's time to leave. I would like to extend my gratitude for your hospitality." Bowing deep, he stated. Her Uncle bowed back.

Xichen liked the fact that he intervened, but his next comment had her on edge again. He meant no harm, sincere even, but she stiffened just the same.

"I hope Madam Lan will be well."

Ruiwen-Xiong and Yichen-Xiong both looked down at her, reaching for her hand each. Her Uncle had gone a little stiff but recovered soon enough to utter, 'I'll pass along the message. ' Her mother's health was something Xichen tried to forget actively. One of the reasons she was so invested in the competition was to the point of exhaustion.

"I hope it's nothing serious." Wen Zongzhu spoke up, getting up, forcing all other occupants to stand with him. "Qingheng-Jun hardly joins us now. Some may wonder about his intentions, Qiren." A clear warning.

Xichen knew that her father's absence was not tolerated that easily. Especially considering the Chief Cultivator was among the guests. Sending his second-in-command on his behalf was belittling. Even if the Lans knew the cause of his actions, the rest of the world didn't. Many guessed, after all, rumors spread like wildfire. But no Lan ever spoke of it - there were no confirmations of any rumors.

There was a rumor about her mother being unbearably unattractive - and that's why she never showed her face. It thawed after she and Wangji were born. Objectively, they were both good-looking, after all. Another rumor about how she was a sorceress, a demonic cultivator, although there was none in known history. Or rightfully, she was a criminal.

Well, even Xichen got to know that only a year ago. So, she doubted anyone else would know. But generally, her mother was a villain in the public eye.

They guessed about her father's absence, too. The esteemed Qingheng-Jun, who always traveled, smiled, and was joyful, suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth. Some said he was under a spell from a witch (her mother); some said he was so high on his high horse that he deemed everyone insignificant. There were also speculations about him cultivating to immortality.

Nobody guessed about his self-imprisonment, and he wanted it that way. The public generally thought of him as the victim when the man was the perpetrator all along.

A woman trapped in a marriage she didn't want, a brother burdened with tasks he was never meant to shoulder, and two children who were political pawns from the day they were born attested to that. But Qingheng-Jun was apparently so great in everyone's eyes.

"Well, I could only hope that your little Lan Xichen doesn't inherit the same passivity," The Chief Cultivator ended the remark. That was another well-known fact. After Nie Zongzhu, Wen Ruohan despised Qingheng-Jun. Most Sects had wanted him for the position that Wen Ruohan currently inhabited. But her father, in his youthful jubilation, had refused the seat. Wen Zongzhu was still bitter about him being the second option.

He directed another piercing look at her. Xichen composed herself, even if she felt tears approaching. She did everything not to appear similar to that man. She was here, wasn't she?

But she just smiled, even as both her Shixiongs held her hand discreetly. She won't cry over this. She'll prove them wrong. She always did.

She saw Mingjue staring at her with a frown, but she didn't bother looking. She didn't want anyone to see anything beyond what she was willing to offer.

Her Shufu's jaw had tightened. As much as it was a jab at her, her ability to be a Zongzhu it was one at him too, filling a role he was not supposed to. But just like her, he took it composed, giving a single nod.

Then, finally, the Zongzhus went out.

On the way, Jiang Fengmian patted Mingjue's hair, consoling him slightly for the comment, and smiled at her too. He looked as if he regretted ever stepping into the chamber.

Nie Zongzhu had one arm wrapped around his son for a few seconds, whispering something as Mingjue pressed his face to his stomach, nodding his head. It was surprisingly childish of him. As he should be. He was a child, after all.

Even Jin Guangshan patted Zixuan on his way out, acknowledging.

Xichen didn't get the same sentiment from her Uncle. On his way to make preparations for leaving. He didn't have time to even breathe. Xichen wasn't so soft as to demand more attention than he was willing to give. He already gave too much.

Finally, it was just the competitors left inside the hall.

After a few exchanges of words with Yichen-Xiong about the night hunt, Wen Xu and Wen Chao departed quickly, an emotionless Wen Zhuliu following them behind with a small nod in her direction, even though they were the closest to them in terms of distance. Wen Chao, in all his clownery, even drew a finger across his throat for Xichen to see. She had just raised one eyebrow, dully unimpressed. He needed help.

Then the Jiang Disciples also left, the older almost carrying Ruqiu, who was now mumbling about a Lotus stew...she wasn't sure.

Her Shixiongs also started discussing something with the elder Jin disciple, leaving Zixuan, her, Mingjue, and Zonghui together. She wanted to start the conversation, but the last comment of the celebration still felt like lead on her tongue. Thankfully, Zixuan opened the floor.

"I'm sorry, Mingjue-Xiong. He was upset with me, and I believe he took it out on you."

For a second, Zixuan looked similar to Wangji, who also liked to blame himself for things he couldn't have controlled. He wasn't as articulate as Zixuan, but he would've still thought the same. Xichen felt her walls melt for a second.

"It's alright, Zixuan. Your father is certainly...interesting. I knew it for years. Never expected him to be less," Mingjue stated with a pat on Zixuan's back, consoling the child. Xichen nodded her head in agreement.

"You were very good, Jin-gonzi. He could have had his expectations. But just because you didn't reach them this time, doesn't make you a failure," She said, smiling at him, letting him know none of them thought worse of him for his father. She was all too familiar with having less than proportionate father figures.

Zixuan smiled at her back, eyes crinkling.

"I think we're way past formality now, don't you, Lan-guaniang? You can call me Zixuan." His voice was childishly earnest; she had heard it from herself before when she wanted to be a friend.

"You can call me Xichen-Jie or anything you prefer, too, then, Zixuan," She conceded. His smile widened at that.

"I will...Xichen-Jie"

Next to them, Zonghui cleared his throat awkwardly, Mingjue throwing him a murderous glance.

"I am Nie Zonghui, by the way, Lan-guaniang. You don't know me well, but I am already a massive admirer. Anyone who could give our little Zongzhu a run will automatically become my favorite," He said, bowing to her, uncaring of Mingjue's furious eyes. Xichen laughed at the exchange. They reminded her of Ruiwen-Xiong and Xialoian-Jie. Definitely best friends who would push the other into a river for a dumpling.

"I am honored, Nie-gonzi-" she started, but Zonghui was now waving his hand.

"Ah, no, no. Please call me Zonghui, Lan-guaniang. I intend for us to be friends. So I have a conspirator when I want to give hell to this one," Ruffling Mingjue's hair, Zonghui replied. It was strange to see Mingjue being coddled by older Disciples. But despite the weight, he was also 10. She was the same.

Jin Zixuan laughed at that image, immediately silenced by Mingjue's death glare. Puffing up his cheeks in an adorable way. Zonghui winked at the younger. Mingjue's glare, if it could kill, would've buried and planted two trees on the two boys' graves.

"Of course, Xiong-zhang." Directing a dimpled smile at Mingjue, Xichen agreed.

For a second, Mingjue did that same thing. He froze.

What was happening? Was she seeing things?

"But please do return the favor," Xichen completed her sentence, her gaze still looking at Mingjue, who was now looking at some point above her ear. Zonghui coughed, scratching his nose as if he were hiding a smile.

"Yes, of course, Xichen-Mei. Now, Zixuan-di, I have some questions to ask you. Would you mind?" Not really waiting on Zixuan's answer, Zonghui dragged him away from them, even as Zixuan looked confused, trying to intervene with 'But I wanted to stay'. Zonghui paid him no attention.

Mingjue had whirled towards his elder, wide-eyed, an expression of betrayal on his face.

Did he despise her company that badly?

Well, okay then.

Xichen just had one more thing to say to him anyway.

"Nie-gonzi-"

"Mingjue"

For a second, she stared at him. He was now turned back to her, still eyes not directly on her face, his hand behind his back like a small general. But his voice was sincere.

"I beg your pardon?" She had to make sure that she was not hearing things.

"I felt it was only right. We are more than acquaintances as well. You can call me Mingjue ...if you want, I mean." When her pause extended, he added the last segment, nervous, slight bounce to his frame. He could be quite adorable in his own way.

" Xichen, " she said as an answer, being replied to, finally with a smile and eye contact.

"But what I was trying to say, Mingjue-Xiong -" for a second, she felt his breath hitch at the address, even she felt slight exhilaration. It was new, after all. Nothing to look into.

"-I apologize."

Mingjue's brows furrowed at the confession, opening his mouth to question, but Xichen kept talking.

"My comment about you being a ' Mangwang ' came from a place of anger that day. After battling you especially, it was more than clear how inaccurate I was. I am sorry I hurt you. It couldn't have been pleasant," She finished with a deep bow, expressing her ingenuity.

Mingjue was staring at her. His eyes sparkling, lips etched into a smile. Soft. Xichen felt an involuntary redness creeping to her cheeks.

Gods! Not again.

"Me too, Xichen. " Xichen almost flinched at the address. It was certainly...unusual. The way her name sounded when he said it. But she didn't have any objection to it.

"Calling you a Huahou was out of line. I should've been more assessing of the situation. You have proven that you're not at all just words." He added with a laugh. Looking alive and vibrant like an excited puppy.

Xichen liked puppies.

Then he bowed as well, showing his sincerity. Xichen laughed, her dimple reappearing.

"Well, then. Let's start anew. Lan Xichen - Heir to Gusu Lan. Would you like to be friends?" She said, extending her hand to him, smiling all the way. Happy in that moment.

He smiled right back.

"Nie Mingjue - Heir to Qinghe Nie. And it would absolutely be my pleasure," and he linked their hands.

This was good. All Xichen had expected were allies, but now she had real friends. Friends whom she liked and respected.

The Sect Advancement Festival, as painful as the journey there had been, ended on a good note.

Chapter Text

30 years ago

"For the love of all that's holy! JIN ZIXUAN!" Mingjue's voice pierced through the air.

Xichen was used to that now. Mingjue had a habit of shouting at the younger boy. And with much reasonable cause.

It had been that way for the past 3 months, after their first night hunt (Hers and Zixuan's , this was Mingjue's third, apparently) commenced.

Yichen-Xiong had tried to keep the reins in control for the first week, encouraging Mingjue to maybe be calm and express himself in some other way than 'plain shouts' and Zixuan to pay attention to the fight at hand and not whether he looked 'perfect' while doing it. But neither of the boys showed any progress in that, and so her Shixiong had given up.

But Ruiwen-Xiong and Xiaolian-Jie , who were also on the night hunt with them, were having the time of their lives. Even debating among themselves for the next cause of a potential argument. Jiang Ruqiu had started to actually munch on his jelly sweets as if he were experiencing a low-budget theatre production.

Sometimes, Xichen almost died of second-hand embarrassment. Why were her friends so theatrical?

Mianmian-Jie was in a similar situation to her. The cultivators of her group had dubbed 'facepalming' as her signature move because almost every three hours, Jin Zixuan did something that warranted the action. Xichen heard the older girl sigh 'I swear to heaven, I will literally walk out this goddamned Sect' more times than she can count, while dragging an annoying Jin Zixuan behind her, away from potential danger.

But as much as the boy had grown in their presence, he still had Mirrorhawk tendencies. Wanting to surpass, be the best.

Xichen could relate to that ambition, so could all other cultivators. But what was unacceptable was that Zixuan did that at the expense of others. He was the only child of the family, coddled way too much. It was only expected. But Nie Mingjue never took it lightly.

Mingjue , after all, had a five-year age gap with Huaisang and had always been a protector for the little guy. Being selfish or self-serving was not in his vocabulary. Which then led to many fights when Zixuan became careless with his ambition.

And Xichen , as much as she adored the two boys, was getting tired.

Mianmian-Jie, next to her, cleaning her own blade, rolled her eyes so hard at the shout that Xichen feared that the eyes would get stuck in the back of her head, loudly cursing with a 'Here we freaking go'. But the expression was valid. Xichen now has a spiritual connection to it.

" Xichen , can you clean my sword, as well? I have a dumbass Sect Heir to guard from another Volcano of a Sect Heir," Mianmian-Jie asked, thrusting her blade onto Xichen's palm even before she could nod. Well, this was a routine. Xichen always agreed anyway.

Looking at the older girl's retreating figure, she was almost glad for her position for being Sect Heir.

Imagine being an unofficial guard to someone who never listened, for the rest of her life, as the Second-in-Command, bound by loyalty and friendship, while feeling like throwing the man off a cliff?

Yeah, Xichen was never jealous of Mianmian-Jie's position in life, even if it was much simpler in terms of duties.

It was fortunate for Zixuan that Mianmian-Jie was such a fantastic fighter. Nearly surpassing Zixuan himself...well, may not in a standard duel, but in real life...oh, Mianmian-Jie was far ahead.

She was a clean fighter, smooth and accurate. And she was confident, not in the arrogant way Zixuan was at times (or most times), but truly just confident, well aware of her skills as well as limitations. Unlike her future Zongzhu, she would never try to charge a spirit demon all by herself. (No one with sane brain cells would, to be honest.)

She was three years Xichen's senior and had been amongst the top three contestants last year at the Sect Advancement Festival in Yunmeng Jiang for the Novel Category, as Mingjue had mentioned. And she truly was very good at what she did.

Surrounded by a lot of female disciples was a new experience for Xichen since she usually practiced with boys in Gusu Lan. But here, there were a few girls. Mianmian-Jie and another older Jin disciple, two from Jiang as well, one who was the older sister of the boy she had beaten in the Arena, and another one in Yichen-Xiong's age (Who was definitely interested in her Shixiong, but that's a story for another time), Xichen and Xiaolian-Jie from the Lans, and another one from Qinghe, Nie-Zonghui's older sister, the only woman that Mingjue was terrified of but would never admit. She was much shorter than Zonghui, already 17, and was a well-known seamstress there.

Xichen had briefly mentioned how that occupation sounded non-threatening as a Tea picker, but Mingjue had just looked at her in bewilderment. Zonghui even winced at the remark, asking her to 'never underestimate the poignant relationship of a Seamstress and her needle'.

Once, she had sewn actual needles to Mingjue's undergarments just because Mingjue had disagreed with a design for him . He had never attempted it again.

But Xichen liked her- no nonsense, sharp, blunt.

Her words could certainly use a bit of sugarcoating, Xichen thought when the memory of her calling Ruiwen-Xiong when he got himself injured when they were batting spirits by declaring 'his motor function weaker than a twice trampled centipede who's lost 90 of its 100 legs'.

Both Yichen-Xiong and Xialoian-Jie had started to worship the woman for her unexpected showdown. Ruiwen-Xiong was both their favorite victim. And her Shixiong had whined for days after the incident.

He still didn't look at her - properly traumatized.

All that was to say, Nie Ziqin was truly formidable as a person.

Xichen had offered her the same consideration of addressing her by her courtesy name if she preferred, but Ziqin had mentioned something vague about how in a few years she'd have to call her by her title and title only, and how Xichen would rank higher to her even in her Sect so she would much rather not.

Xichen didn't really understand how she would rank higher in Qinghe Nie. Yes, she will probably be Lan Zongzhu, but that has not still cemented. Her father still had a long life ahead of him.

But then again, Ziqin had said it while glancing at Mingjue, who had been entirely too invested on the floor, and Zonghui, next to him was trying his hardest not to burst into laughter.

She felt like she had missed something again. Almost a common occurrence whenever she met with Nie disciples now. Too many hidden smiles and pointed coughs, which only doubled when Mingjue and she were together.

Maybe an inside joke, who knows?

But anyway, she did ask Xichen to call her Ziqin-Jie if she wished. Xichen did take on the offer but setting on 'Jie-Zhang' rather than a simple Jie. Ziqin was not someone she wanted on her bad side.

And to nobody's surprise, Qishan Wen didn't bring any female disciples. They only allowed the female disciples to engage in healing and medical cultivation. Xichen thought it completely ridiculous.

Yes, Gusu also had separate male and female cultivations, but still, all of them were taught fighting. The only difference was the technique used, more attuned to the physical limitations. The only reason Xichen was amongst the boys was because she had to be able to compete and prove herself superior if she wanted to be Zongzhu, because their Elder Council was made up of a group of dusty old scrolls who didn't believe in 'Female Leadership'.

But that didn't mean they didn't believe in Female Strength.

She didn't like the Council, that much was true, but she could admit that the education was fair in Cloud Recess, their rules forbidding anyone to withhold information due to social discrimination.

And the rest of the Sects, Qinghe Nie and Yunmeng Jiang especially, practiced equality like it were the word of God. They've never had gender roles to begin with. A good proportion of significant positions were held by females there.

That wasn't to say that Patriarchy hadn't left its mark on them. Girls still had it harder than the boys, but it was relatively easier.

Lanling Jin also, seemingly looked equal in its treatment but she didn't want to bet too much on Jin Guangshan's Rule. The man was notorious for his blatant objectification of any pretty woman. But the rest of his clan, especially Zixuan, was willing to see female competence just as much as beauty.

She had actually (silently) cheered on him when he had punched Wen Chao for commenting on Mianmian-Jie's waist around a week ago. 

Mianmian-Jie had not been bothered by the slightest, just arched an eyebrow and went along with what she was doing, but Xichen also knew the comment probably hurt. There she was, contributing to the cause like any other cultivator, being objectified by a 15-year-old with no working brain cells.

But Mianmian-Jie was smart. She knew her position in life. If she went head-to-head with the Wen-er-gonzi, it wasn't going to end well for her. She was a normal cultivator with no prestigious cultivation background. Yes, she was the closest confidant of future Jin Zongzhu, but that held no value in Sect Politics. She could easily be discarded.

Xichen knew firsthand what a sleaze dog Wen Chao could be. She had wanted to punch the man then, too. But at times, one needed to be patient. Although she could admit that she was glad for Zixuan's lack of restraint in that moment. If Mingjue had been there, Wen Chao would've probably gone home on a stretcher.

It was not only disgusting but blatantly horrifying that he could make such a comment on a mere 12-year-old girl, being only a teenager himself. But none of the Wens stopped him, not even Wen Xu, their possible future Zongzhu, letting him run his mouth.

Xichen wished on continuous occasions for the Wen Sect to just leave. Had they not joined, the night hunts would've been more enjoyable.

The only reason there was at least this peace within the group was due to Yichen-Xiong's leadership.

When he heard about the incident, he first advised Zixuan in a very soft voice about his temper. The softness of it being the real attack, wrecking the poor kid with guilt, knowing that it wasn't anger but disappointment, and had then invited Wen Chao to tea for a very long talk.

Xichen didn't know what was said; nobody except the two people knew, because Yichen-Xiong was considerate enough to allow even a boy like Wen Chao his dignity. And she knew even if she asked, her Shixiong would never tell.

But the conversation had been effective, Wen Chao finally started keeping to himself - still an annoyance, but considerably more tolerable.

As she always said, her Shixiong was a blessing in disguise.

She could understand why he had so many admirers in the Cultivation world.

Breaking her out of her reprise, Mingjue's voice thundered again, somewhere. She still hadn't seen the two boys, but she was sure their entire campsite could hear the battle happening there.

"If you run, I swear, Zixuan, I will really break your legs!"

"You will do it even if I stay!" Zixuan's panicked yell was heard as a reply, and then there was shuffling, a loud, high-pitched scream, and sudden running. Finally, in a moment when she didn't expect it, Zixuan ran straight into her, using her as a human shield against the red, boiling temper of Nie Mingjue.

Xichen sighed inwardly for the hundred millionth time. She would rather jump off a cliff than meddle.

Behind Mingjue, she saw Mianmian-Jie running in, facepalming like she always did. She hadn't managed to save her Sect Heir this time, then.

"Xichen, step aside, please." Mingjue's voice was controlled, not wanting to unleash his anger on her. Softer.

Behind her, Zixuan just gripped her robe tighter. The boy was taller than she by a few centimeters. Xichen hardly saw the point of using her as a human shield for him. But she still felt his hands shaking.

Whatever he did this time, it really was rather bad, it seemed. In front of her, Mingjue was also seething in fury.

Even if she didn't want to, she had to step in.

Having a murder in the night hunt will cut it short, after all.

"Let's all calm down for a moment," Xichen started, lowering the Baxia on Mingjue's arm. The physical contact momentarily rendered him immobile. His eyes widened a fraction before he let her tug down his sword arm. His eyes turned away from her. Fury forgotten for a second.

She understood he was abashed. But they were friends, and friends had physical contact all the time. Whenever she held hands with Yichen-Xiong or accepted hugs from Ruiwen-Xiong, they didn't look like this.

Was Mingjue also strict with decorum? Well, she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. She took her hand away swiftly, Mingjue letting out a small sigh.

Was he really that concerned?

But in contrast, Zixuan's arm was wrapped tightly around her robe, tugging. With a barely suppressed roll of her eyes, she adjusted herself to cover as much of his frame as she could.

"Do any of you care to elaborate on the situation? A lot of the seniors are resting," she reminded, Mianmian-Jie finally joining the group. Neither of the two boys spoke. At the height of frustration, Mianmian-Jie threw her arms up.

"Oh, for the sake of the Gods! Jin Zixuan, what the fresh hell did you do this time?" Her voice was angry. Zixuan pouted at her, still tugging on Xichen's robe.

"Why do you always assume I did something?" He muttered, feeling apparently wronged. All three remaining heads turned to him in unison. He was the only person challenged enough to the idiotic things he did. Others had a sense of self-preservation, after all, not just vanity.

"Whatever," he mumbled, seeing the identical looks directed to him, reaffirming his clownery, tugging on her robe harder.

At this rate, he might even rip the sleeve. Xichen tugged it back to her.

"You should ask what he didn't do, Qingyang," Mingjue grumbled, glaring at the younger boy, making him hide himself further.

Mianmian looked at Zixuan with venom and a promise of 'murder'. Like an exasperated mother with a crazy toddler.

"Okay, then. What didn't he do, Mingjue-Xiong?" She redirected the conversation.

"This clownfish charged an entire horde of minor spirits when it was only me and he there. The other two cultivators were too far away to help. There were at least 15 spirits, and when I asked, when we finally subdued them, after being exhausted to the bone, do you know what his answer was?" Mingjue was narrating with a murderous glint, exasperation evident in his sweaty form.

Behind her, Zixuan let out a small whimper.

"No, let the Overlord finish. Go on, Zixuan, what did you say?" Mingjue asked, voice taunting. Mockery like the strongest blade. Zixuan looked at him, admonished, before finally emerging from her back. Immediately, she saw Mianmian pinching his arm, hard enough to leave a dent.

Soothing the abused arm, Zixuan opened his mouth, and Xichen knew with that expression, he was going to escalate the situation.

She felt a migraine coming, even as she stepped closer to the boy, knowing that Baxia would make a comeback in the next few seconds.

"They were minor spirits, Mingjue-Xiong. They should be easier to defeat," he said in that obnoxious tone of his. Mianmian-Jie looked at him like he was brain-dead, and as expected, Mingjue's eyes narrowed at the stupid comment.

Minor spirits or not, until a formation was established, or if they were highly skilled cultivators, no one with sanity would ever risk angering a herald of them. 15 was way too much, in any context. And Zixuan was eight, only eight. Had he done that without Mingjue, Xichen would doubt whether his body would be recognizable.

Even with Mingjue, she was pleasantly surprised they came back almost unscathed. They were too little for that amount of minor spirits at the same time. She just knew Yichen-Xiong would do his classic soft speech this day as well.

But what took priority at the moment was not killing the boy who had survived his own dumbassery.

The moment Baxia lifted at Zixuan, the boy screaming in fear, Xichen stepped between the two again with her own demand of 'Mingjue-Xiong!'.

Mianmian-Jie didn't, apparently, in the mood to kill Zixuan herself. Although not her official responsibility, she was the one who would be punished if Zixuan became a sack of meat under her supervision. Xichen could understand the predicament. She was just happy that Mianmian-Jie didn't get her own sword.

Mingjue stopped short, Baxia still in the air, eyebrows furrowed, furious. To be honest, so was Xichen. But using fists was not the way to go at this time.

"Step aside, Xichen. I'm going to teach this brat a lesson." Still glaring at the boy above her head, Mingjue commanded. Xichen stood rooted in her place.

"Look, what he did was not ideal, Mingjue-Xiong. But Baxia can't solve this problem. Let's discuss this. She tried to mediate. the keyword being tried. Because the moment she mentioned Baxia, she knew she had made a mistake.

"I almost died because of this idiot, Xichen! And you're still here negotiating peace treaties?!" His anger was now extended to her.

Great going, Xichen. She mused. Jin Zixuan was out here dismantling her friendships alongside his.

"I'm not, Mingjue-Xiong. I just want to settle this matter in the least circumstantial way possible. Neither of you-" She started again. But Mingjue just let out a growl, sheathing Baxia and stepping back.

"Yeah, why don't you go ahead and defend him once again, Lan Xichen? Your coddling is worse than his dumbassery at this point." He turned his dark, angry gaze on her. It softened a bit when contacted with hers, but he hardened them again.

Come on, Xichen. You know you need to wait it out with Mingjue-Xiong before bringing logic into the argument. She was disappointed in herself.

"I don't want to see either of you for a while. I will be in the hut, and if you value your life, Zixuan, do not dare step into it for a good couple of hours."

With a final threat, he left, frame stiffened, angrily walking to the hut he shared with Zixuan, Zonghui, and another cultivator.

Mianmian-Jie exchanged a look with her.

At least it stopped there. Xichen was expecting a bit worse.

"I'm going to go too, Xichen. I might punch this Halfwit if I stayed here longer. I don't want to hear the snide remarks of Madam Jin after for hurting her 'precious baby'." With a fully taunting tone, Mianmian left, taking her sword and Xichen's as well to their own tent they shared with Xiaolian-Jie and her Senior.

Xichen just acknowledged her and then went silent. She was in no hurry to speak to Zixuan herself. But apparently, the clownery hasn't ended. Taking her silence as encouragement, Zixuan started to babble.

"Thank you, Xichen-Jie. I thought I was dead for certain." He started with a bright smile on his face. Xichen just looked at him deadpan. Maybe she was too soft. Maybe one injurious hit was needed for him to activate brain function.

Not recognizing her disinterest, he continued.

"I mean, they were minor spirits. They were a bit fierce, but I'm sure we could've defeated them anyway. And I knew you would understand that - Mingjue-Xiong was just clammy because he didn't find the herald first-"

Having had enough of idiotic expressions for the day, Xichen silenced the boy. Jin Zixuan's eyes went round when he realized what he had done.

"The only reason I intervened was because I didn't want you injured, Zixuan. I do not agree or understand your actions. Charging 15 spirits simultaneously is obtuse. Stupid, in plain terms. Even if offered the option, nobody, especially not Mingjue-Xiong, would be so careless." She stated, looking at how his mirthful gaze slowly dulled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Even more so, the action was a risk. Not only did you drag yourself into a danger that might've ended in catastrophe, but you also dragged another person, compromising his life. If something happened to either of you, could you take responsibility? Could you?" She asked him, still silenced, but his averted eyes told her that he was finally gripping the gravity of the situation.

"You should apologize to Mingjue-Xiong," She advised, to which he nodded his head, turning to leave with Suihua, possibly to report the incident to Yichen-Xiong. She lifted the silencing charm. He sputtered a bit at the sudden release.

"And do not take anything Mingjue-Xiong said to heart. He cares. Anger is how he shows it." Finally having some mercy on him, Xichen teased, being replied with a small smile.

"I'll be more careful, Lan-guaniang." Zixuan returning to formality meant he was sincere, his deeper-than-usual bow also telling. But Xichen also knew that the sentiment would last a week at best.

Shaking her head, she looked at the retreating figure. It was a minefield here, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

After the fiasco in the evening, Xichen finally found some time for herself. Mianmian was still in the hut describing Zixuan in less than refined words to anyone who'd listen (which entitled all other Jin disciples there), so she slipped from the back and went into a quiet corner of the forest.

Their campsite for the night hunt was not far from Cloud Recess. If she climbed a tree high enough, she saw the peaceful view of her home. Or at least the mountain it was situated on. Ruiwen-Xiong had told her that it'll take less than 03 days to arrive in Cloud Recess if they were not using sword travelling. But with swords, it'll probably be under 3 hours at best.

Xichen was in no hurry to go back. Her final month in Gusu had been hectic; her mother's sickness apparently worsened, and her Shufu so riddled with overwhelming burdens for the family and Sect. And Wangji was also getting a rather irritable mood, going into days of silence, and only opened up to her when she coaxed one or two words out of him.

Even more so, after the Sect Advancement Festival, she had thought the Elder Council would be satiated for a while. But what a cosmic joke it had been. Her hours of training had increased, and she was even asked to read through some of the advanced texts about Sect Politics and was questioned every week for the content.

It was rather unwise of them. Yes, she could read the words, but at 9, there was a limit to what she could understand. What good was her parroting facts when she didn't know what she was parroting?

Thus, when the night hunts rolled around, Xichen was happy. Truly looking forward.

It may have been selfish of her to prioritize herself at the moment, but she truly felt like she was on the brink of insanity. With the added workload, academic pressure, and familial issues, she had been running herself dry way more than necessary. Sometimes there were days she was awake for two consecutive days.

But still, half-heartedly, she had offered to stay and forgo the hunt.

She was not at all convincing, but she didn't want to give the Council any more ammunition than needed for her 'unsuitability' on Leadership, saying that she was only self-serving. At least on paper, she was a sacrificial martyr. Even more so, considering Wangji's disorienting mood, she had debated on coming to the night hunt. Even if Mingjue, Zixuan, Mianmian, and many other cultivators she had befriended at the Festival were excited for the experience.

Yet, her Shufu had encouraged her to go, telling her with a rueful smile that he was still young enough to hold the fort for a while. She knew he preferred her to stay. She made things, especially in caring for herself and Wangji, easier for him. But still he was insistent. After all, her absence would mark her the same recluse as Qingheng-Jun, a legacy she never wanted to carry and a slight to the Chief Cultivator, who had mentioned in no uncertain terms that he would expect her participation.

Wangji had not liked her leaving him. This was the first time they were truly apart for a long period. But even he, in all his baby stoicism, had demanded her to 'go', knowing full well she was excited. Her brother was much better than she was - truly selfless...maybe to a fault.

Even with the hustle and bustle of the hunt, she missed Wangji terribly. Especially on the days she raved comfort. Either the termination of demonic spirits was so brutal that it induced nightmares, or her own body was so abused that she needed warmth. Wangji provided both comfort and warmth even without having to ask. But she was more worried about him.

Wangji had a habit of retreating into himself when the world became cruel. She was slightly similar; she also needed isolation. But she will open up once she has felt the brunt of her emotions. Wangji just suppressed. Carrying a weight so heavy but never showing it.

He needed to be cared for very tenderly at those times. Xichen was the best person to do that, and at the moment, she wasn't next to him.

But even then, she didn't quite regret coming into the hunt. She learned a lot. She made friends. Allied. She saw Politics more clearly now. Not so much the black and white world of Gusu Lan, but a slight gray. And even if the banter sent her to migraines, she liked feeling carefree at least for a moment.

"Xichen!"

A voice broke her out of her practice. She had been practicing Liebing alone, trying to master the music as much as it was allowed. She might not admit it out loud, but her flute brought her more peace than her sword. She liked it better.

"Xichen!"

The voice shouted again, it sounded like Xiaolian-Jie.

"Here," she said, getting down from her perched-up position on top of a fairly large rock, the place she had found within three days of the hunt, which held her homesickness and feelings of inadequacy in the face of the talent she was met with in the hunt whenever she required it.

"Oh, there you are. I guessed you'd be here. Yichen-Xiong called you to present your report for today." Wrapping her in her outer robe, she had forgotten back in the hut, Xiaolian-Jie stated.

Giving daily reports to the Cultivator in charge was Yichen-Xiong's first rule. So he could track their progress and decide the next course of action.

He always allocated a few minutes to every cultivator there, nearly 40 of them. To talk to them through any obstacles they came across, to advise if needed, or to reprimand.

Xichen had written her report as soon as she got back from her hunt. She had managed to suppress 5 spirits that day - not excellent, but it was a good number. Besides, she had the day slot today, so it was a miracle she even encountered 5.

"Oh, and also, the letters are here. You might want to check yours." With one final tug, Xiaolian-Jie stepped back, satisfied of her look. And she looked happy. So Yuxin-Jie had probably written to her. Even if Xiaolian-Jie was in that stage of denying anything she might feel for the older, it was pretty obvious the moment her eyes became heart-shaped at the mere mention of her Shijie.

She and Ruiwen-Xiong already teased Xiaolian-Jie a lot for it whenever they got the chance. Ruiwen-Xiong also apparently had all their wedding preparations picked out. The ultimate wingman.

But letters were good. In night hunts, they could communicate through emergency signal messages and letters. And for the past two months, they got letters once every week. They were a highlight to her personally, as that was her only mode of communication with her little brother. Without missing a single week, her brother always wrote to her. She was glad for that, at least he wrote her how he felt. Occasionally, she got her Shufu's letters, and sometimes, Yuxin-Jie will dot her own message at the end of Wangji's.

The only reason she wasn't also there with them was the fact that, as the Head Medic of Gusu Lan's daughter, she was competent in healing. And at that moment, the head medic needed careful hands.

Xichen actively tried not to think about the reason for that need. The mother in the Silent Room.

"The letters are in Yichen-Xiong's Camp. You can just collect them there." With a final pat on her back, Xiaolian-Jie went off, opening her own letter and almost walking into Jiang Ruqiu, who was busy arguing about - was it...steak?- with Zonghui-Xiong and a few other cultivators their age.

She glimpsed Ruiwen-Xiong there too, laughing loudly at how empty-headed Xiaolian-Jie had become with that letter, a goofy smile on her face.

Looking at her, it almost felt like Love was something real. Something sustainable. Something happy...even after witnessing the wreckage of a marriage her parents had, the shell of a man her Shufu had become. Perhaps it was just their family.

When she entered Yichen-Xiong's hut, he was seated on his bed, his forehead ribbon slightly askew, rummaging through reports with, excuse her for saying this, terrible, so completely unintelligible handwriting.

Calligraphy was one thing Lans excelled at. Neat, tidy in perfect lines.

Seeing such notes just from afar, Xichen felt nauseous. She pitied her Shixiong, who had to actually decipher them and bear through it.

"Shimei!" Noticing her, his face lit up, inviting her to sit in front of him. She sat on one corner of the bed, immediately taking on the task of stacking the reports.

She hated mess. It made her uncomfortable. She liked her things in order, symmetrical.

Seeing her actions, her Shixiong gave her a tender smile, seeing her adjusting and readjusting the rack to its perfect formation after placing her report on his lap.

"I won't say leave them because I know you are obsessed with your symmetry. You'll still adjust them," He teased her lightly, causing her to smile at him. With a fond shake of his head, he started reading through her report. The silence between them was comfortable.

After a few minutes, he looked up, approval shining in his orbs.

"This is good, Xichen. Well done," With a small pat on her head, he stated.

Xichen liked getting praise, particularly from Yichen-Xiong. They were never empty. He didn't bother with useless praises and compliments if the act didn't merit them. He was the one senior she always looked up to.

Her dimple appeared in no time at the remark, causing him to laugh out loud.

"You know, sometimes I forget how truly young you are with the way you behave," He said, leaning back to the armrest, watching her work. "And then you smile with that adorable dimple, and I realize you are still so little. Too little"

His voice was nostalgic and tender, but Xichen knew her Shixiong enough to know there was a catch somewhere.

"Are you truly okay here, Xichen?"

There it was.

Xichen just stared at the reports for a moment, not really knowing the answer. He didn't bother to fill in the space, waiting for her. After a few more seconds of contemplation, she turned back to him.

"I feel free here. Not like Lan Xichen, the next Zongzhu, but Lan Xichen, the Cultivator. But I'm also ridden with worry all the time." She started, her voice vulnerable, but still composed. He was the only Senior who she had allowed to witness this side of her. But even he could only get a glimpse. Nobody needed to know all her weaknesses. She couldn't burden someone else like that.

"Why?" A simple enough question, but what should she answer?

"I am surrounded by the best talents of a generation. Almost all the big names, future title holders, are here, Shixiong. I know, despite the friendships we have formed, at the end of the day, it is one man for himself. I sometimes feel like I've gotten attached." She admitted, Mingjue's face briefly flashing in her mind at it. Then, slowly it was followed by Zixuan's whining, Mianmian-Jie's cackling laughter, and more.

"I know I'm being judged, but I have become uncaring of it. And home...I feel bad for leaving. I feel like I left something behind," She whispered, her eyes stinging. She balled her hands into a fist.

She will not cry. Not in front of Shixiong.

Then, Shixiong was scooting closer to her, pulling her into a brief hug, like how one would cradle a wet kitten. That careful gesture made a single tear drop down her cheek.

If Yichen-Xiong saw that, he acted like he didn't.

"Bonds are essential in life, Shimei." His voice was soft when he extracted her from the hug, combing his fingers through her hair, being careful not to touch her forehead ribbon by accident.

"They keep you tethered. To your compassion, to your humanity. They give you soul. All you have to do is not let those bonds fester into wounds. Do not let them become toxic to you. If you are making friends, make them. But take your time in giving them entrance. Just because you're fond of someone doesn't mean you need to bare yourself open- let them take you from yourself," He continued, eyes looking far, even as his hand continued its stroking.

"And love?" she wanted to ask. What if she truly begins to love these people? She knew Yichen-Xiong was, as much as he's refused to elaborate, in love with someone.

He met her with a small smile.

"Let yourself love, Xichen. Lans are quite intense with the feeling, true, but it doesn't have to be a hindrance." Xichen looked at him, hesitating before adding something.

"I do not know what happened with Zongzhu and Madam Lan, Shimei, but they are not the only people who have loved. Sealing yourself off wouldn't do anything for you."

Xichen stared at him to the point he almost felt uncomfortable. But she felt like she saw another layer of her practically perfect Shixiong. Someone who loved, and did so deeply. A romantic at heart. She felt herself smiling, and his tense frame relaxing, continuing the motion of his hand.

"There's also no benchmark you should reach, Xichen. You do not need to live up to everyone's standard of what a Zongzhu should be. Qingheng-Jun had been the ultimate Zongzhu, but you and I both see his fate now. Let yourself just be." He continued, turning his dark blue eyes, which almost looked black with their depth on onto her, extracting his hand to hold both her little ones in between his palms.

"Be a child, Xichen. At least once"

That sentence almost knocked her over.

Everybody wanted her to be more. Every adult figure she had ever come across had wanted her to be sharper, steadier, wiser. Nobody, not even her Shufu, had expected just a child from her, not like how her Shixiong was.

In that moment, Xichen decided that Yichen-Xiong would be her second-in-command when she attains her title.

Perhaps this was why she liked being with her peers so much. She was a child then. An annoyed one at times. But still a child. She could almost understand Zixuan's carelessness with them as well.

"Thank you, Shixiong."

With shining eyes, she told him, Yichen-Xiong giving her a small smile, understanding all her gratitude that was placed in those few words.

"You can take a full break tomorrow, Xichen. Let your head get cleared, enjoy the breeze. Play Liebing. Hmm?" He suggested, and immediately she felt a sense of relief washing through her. Yes. That's exactly what she needed.

That same voice of doubt in her head rose at that temptation, questioning whether it was truly justifiable for her to rest when there was so much to be done, but at that moment, Xichen was able to tell it to shut up.

She was only 9. She deserved a break. She deserved to just...be.

In agreement, she smiled again, her dimple making an appearance yet again. A child.

"Xichen!"

Oh....

"What do you mean that Qiren-Shifu is here?" Yichen-Xiong was asking Ruiwen-Xiong, who interrupted them by barging into the room. Announced, yes, but this still felt like an intrusion on the sentimental mood they were in.

"Exactly that. He is here in the campsite," Ruiwen-Xiong was telling, breathing a little erratically since he had clearly run. Before he could finish the sentence, her Shufu's voice was heard.

"I could've announced myself, Ruiwen," causing all three of them to stiffen immediately, meeting her Uncle standing in the doorway. Seeing him, the three of them dropped into a simultaneous bow. Her Shixiongs 'Shifu' and her 'Shufu' echoed.

"I just wanted to convey the news, Shifu. Having you over is significant." Ruiwen-Xiong's voice was clear, composed. He was a man who knew the very distinct boundaries between when to be personal and professional. The usual brightness was now tempered with a calming cool. And he was right nonetheless; it was unethical for anyone to meddle in on a night hunt, on purpose.

"Astute, Ruiwen." Her Shufu just raised one eyebrow, Ruiwen-Xiong looking away, slightly embarrassed.

Xichen was perplexed.

Why was her Shufu here all of a sudden? And he was not in the habit of passing sarcastic commentary on his students like that. He only did when he was being particularly moody.

"I apologize. That was uncalled for," Her Uncle said with a sigh, taking a seat on Yichen-Xiong's bed, all three of them still standing.

Ruiwen-Xiong directed a smile at the man.

Lan Qiren looked awful. Pale, slightly drenched as there had been a light rain earlier. He had traveled with his sword in urgency. Xichen was liking her odds less and less. And with the frown on Yichen-Xiong's face, she could see he was thinking the same.

"Yichen, Ruiwen, please step outside." Finally, after a considerable silence, her Uncle commanded. "I'd like to speak privately with Xichen."

Both her Shixiongs looked at her in concern while stepping outside. Xichen felt her own heartbeat increasing, blood pumping faster inside her skull.

Her Shufu never used preferential treatments. When with other disciples, both Xichen and Wangji were just that to him as well. Disciples. The blood bonds of being his niece and nephew only applied to their relationship behind closed doors.

Even in her most vulnerable moments, if it was the fate of another disciple, her Uncle never blinked an eye. It was one of the many facts Xichen respected about the man - his unwavering fairness.

Once her Shixiongs were gone, Shufu got up, just pacing, slowly, in a tortoise pace. Xichen felt like she was on the edge of hypertension. She'd only seen him do that once before, when the Elder Council had taken the liberty to extract their visitation to their mother.

"Shufu." Her voice was barely audible. Her Shufu just humming on autopilot.

"What has happened? Is everything alright?" Scared of the answer, she asked. Unable to contain her impatience at his unusual behavior. He didn't answer straight away, looking at the ground for a few seconds. Then, when he looked at her, his eyes were set in a deep determination, hard, emotionless, as if he had closed himself off for the sake of conversation. Xichen felt dread coming in waves.

What in the name of Gods was happening here?!

"Collect your things, Xichen. You are returning to Cloud Recess with me. Now."

His voice was monotonous as if he were narrating the weather and not asking her to break a rule.

It was highly condescended when one left a night hunt early. The rumor of it will certainly not help her status and reputation in the cultivation world. He knew it just as much as she did.

Why was he suggesting this? And so out of the blue?

Nearing him, Xichen tried again.

"Why? Was there an emergency? What could possibly merit..." She trailed off, her Uncle's gaze meeting her confused one as she realized the graveness of his face. His eyes looked a little too red, his posture straighter than ever, and the arm that was clutching his sword was shaking slightly.

All that could mean was one thing.

But...no.

NO.

That- how could that happen?!

Her thoughts worded themselves, orbs shaking in her eyes, as her body started to feel a cold so freezing, she shivered. No.

"No." Her voice was a clear rejection of the notion. Her Uncle's eyes remained on hers, stiff and steady. She felt herself falling apart. Panic seized her chest.

"No. Tell me I'm wrong, Shufu." Her voice was a bare whisper, but she knew very well that her Shufu heard it when he finally heard her voice and turned his face away, unable to meet her crumpling face.

Her eyes stung again, her heart beating erratically. She was shuddering. She could even hear her teeth rattling slightly, lips wobbling, not letting the sobs escape.

"A-Niang..."

Her next word was a whimper, tears falling down her cheeks, even as her eyes kept their intense gaze on her Uncle.

No.

Just- No.

It can't be.

But her Shufu's small nod told her everything she needed to know. Her knees buckled beneath her, sending her straight to the floor. Her Uncle still had his face averted, battling his own emotions.

"They do not know how long she has. She wanted to meet you and Wangji," He was saying, she heard the words, but nothing really registered. Everything was wobbly, rotating faster and faster. She felt her vision spiraling, bile rising up her throat.

"...that was her final wish." His barely there words did it.

Xichen was already physically collapsed, but she felt like her mind was too. She didn't shout, didn't scream, but she felt the wetness of her cheeks, it was getting harder to breathe - chest constricted like a rope with the highest girth was wrapped around her lungs and squeezing hard. She felt like no amount of air she sucked in was actually going into her lungs, feeling like she was being choked.

Then there were warm palms on her shoulders, a voice urging her with a sense of emergency 'Look at me, Xichen. Come on, Zhinu'.

Zhinu. She hadn't heard that word in so long. The last time she heard it... she couldn't even remember.

Her mind slowly focused. The vision steadied again, but her shaking was still very much present, tears falling continuously.

"There you are, Xichen." Her Uncle's voice filtered through, thumbs brushing away her tears even as they kept renewing. Xichen tried to get hold of herself. Biting her lips and digging her fingernails into the meat of her thighs, she tried to calm down, steady herself...at least marginally.

"Collect your things, Xichen. And hold on for me for a moment, can you? Let's not send the rest of the children into a panic." Her Shufu was whispering to her fast, dragging her to her feet.

Xichen wanted to hold on, too. But it was hard.

How can she? Her A-niang...

"Lan Xichen!" Her Shufu's next words were a command. Her head snapped to him on instinct, tears slowing down. She nodded her head yes, wiping her cheeks furiously, planting a vacant look on her face. That was the best she could do.

"Go on. We are leaving now. I'll inform Yichen," He pushed her forward a little. Bowing to him, Xichen walked forward, her knees still threatening to give out but surprisingly firmer than she thought.

Outside, her Shixiongs were clearly agitated, whispering amongst themselves. The moment they saw her, they rushed to her, fully armed with questions. But fortunately, her Uncle peeked his head out, calling them inside. Xichen was glad. If they had talked, she doubted she could've gotten her vocal cords to work.

She laughed mirthlessly at the dramatic irony of everything that was her life.

The moment she tried to take back something for herself...she was thrown into the worst ends she could probably have. The undeniable cruelty of life. A cruelty she and Wangji had not escaped since they saw the world and -

Oh, Gods! Wangji!

When she went to her hut, nobody was inside, vacant. She was glad. She didn't want to face anybody just yet. She'll take even the small mercies now.

Quickly, she started packing anything she vaguely recognized as hers. Her clothes. Her sword. Her flute. Her books. For the first time in her life, she didn't double check - didn't find the optimal patterns - thrown carelessly into a slung-over bag that barely fit them. She was eager to go back to Cloud Recess. She didn't want to waste one more second, not when...

Having collected her things, she rushed out, back to her Shufu. They needed to go. Her chest was aching harder now that she thought of Wangji.

Was he okay? Was he crying? Did he even know?

In her hazy state, she didn't see the black clad figure who was walking in front of her, walking straight into it, and almost falling on her face, had it not been for the firm hand that gripped her elbow to keep her upright.

"Xichen?" She knew that voice.

She turned her head on reflex, seeing the soft smiling face of Nie Mingjue, eyes alight at her unexpected clumsiness. Usually, she would smile back, it was hard not to, since Mingjue hardly ever smiled. But at the moment, she just stared at him with indifferent eyes, not really processing anything, not his touch, not his expressions, not even his general presence.

He was speaking, saying something. Xichen tried to focus. "...apologize for yelling at you..." He was saying something significant, but her mind refused to cooperate, rendering her useless, just staring at him emotionless.

Slowly, his face morphed into a frown, eyes roaming her face. She didn't know what he saw there, but his wide, concerned eyes were enough of a tell. She stepped back, extracting her hand from his grip, which he was still holding absentmindedly. Mingjue was still reaching out to her. The shape of his mouth resembled her name. He was asking her something.

She forced herself to her senses, even as she felt all her sensory faculties had been wrecked with supernatural powers.

"What?" Her voice came out uncertain. So far from her usual cadence, confidence, and assertiveness. She sounded confused. But she didn't really care enough to rectify that at the moment.

" Xichen ?" He asked again, concern occupying the entirety of his face at her state. "Is there anything I can help with?" Seeing that there was no point in asking whether she was okay, he asked. His hand momentarily backtracked before holding hers, tethering her. His face looked suspiciously pink, but that was probably her mind playing tricks.

She tried to answer, but she could only manage a shake of her head. Mingjue was asking her something again. Oh, he was asking whether she needed a seat.

"I'm leaving." Abruptly, her voice worked, silencing him from his suggestions. His head whipped fast to stare at her. Wide eyes. She assumed he asked her 'why' with the movement of his lips.

"I'm needed in Cloud Recess." Extracting her arms, she said as an explanation, turning her back on him and walking away. She saw his confused frown, him shouting her name, but she didn't dare look back. At his concern, she had wanted to let herself be held. And that wasn't a luxury she could afford then.

No. Her home needed her. Her Sect needed her. Her Wangji needed her.

If not for her, she would be strong for those.

Chapter Text

30 years ago

By the time they reached Cloud Recess, it had been nearly dawn. And it had been largely Xichen's fault.

Despite her usual competence in riding her sword, that night had wrecked something so primal in her she couldn't get her limbs to cooperate. Thoughts on her A-niang, Thoughts on her Wangji, and the sad confusion on Mingjue were just floating through her mind, making her unable to focus on anything else.

She briefly mourned the 30 seconds of hope she had with Yichen-Xiong, wondering whether it broke her Shixiong, too, to see his advice discarded within a minute of issuance. She wished she had at least another hour to bask in that. But now wasn't the time...

The moment they got off the swords, Shufu started swaying. He had made back-to-back transportations on the sword, and even one was taxing enough.

Moreover, all Xichen had been capable of doing was just standing on hers and not fall. He had to lead her alongside, exhausting way too much of his spiritual power. She didn't hear him say the words, but she knew he wanted her to get herself together - pull herself to some level of reason. At that point, she was just glad he had the strength to stand and not immediately fall on his face.

Both of them were slightly drenched as there was a light rain and humidity. As if Xichen needed any environmental manifestation to her already damp mood. It was as if the heavens were letting the tears fall for her sake.

Because from the moment she turned away from Mingjue, not a single tear escaped her eyes, numbed. Floating in some conscience that wasn't entirely hers. 

Even then, she felt her drenched clothes, her damp hair sticking to her neck, her forehead ribbon looser than she had ever worn it, her Shufu's voice telling her something, but she felt dead inside. Nothing was making sense.

Finally, having had enough of her eerie silence and vacant expressions, Shufu, with unsteady legs, started to lead her somewhere. She vaguely recognized it wasn't her room. She didn't want to go anywhere else at the moment. She needed to see Wangji, make sure he was well...as well as he could be.

So, since she left the campsite, the first word out of her mouth, unsurprisingly, was "Wangji?"

Her Shufu gave her an almost irritated but simultaneously tender shake of his head, looking down at her, face still pale as a ghost.

"You weren't listening to a word I was speaking, were you, Xichen?"

If it were any other time, the comment would've made her flustered, agitated at her lack of decorum. But right then, all she could do was just gaze at her Uncle in her amber eyes, which looked way too like the light of a dying firefly.

Seeing that he was not going to get a response, Shufu sighed, nose suspiciously red, sniffling a bit.

"We are going to Wangji. Because ever since he heard the news yesterday, he had been kneeling on the ground in front of your A-niang's room." His voice was miserable, defeated.

Xichen stiffened. She knew it. If Wangji knew...his heart would break. 

Xichen had never disliked being right as much as she did at that moment. She sped up her walk.

Xichen's first look at her brother in two months was of him kneeling, shivering against the cold tiles, drenched like a cat in the rain.

And it broke her heart.

Realistically, she knew that Wangji was probably kneeling for 8 shi, if her numbers tallied up to what Shufu had been saying to her. Of how Wangji had been informed late evening, and Shufu had set out to find her, not an hour later than when Wangji went in front of the Silent Room.

But he was also 6. A baby. A stronger baby, but still so young.

Seeing Wangji in that haggard state, Shufu stood back, seeing as the boy was pretty much drenched and shivering. Xichen knew that Wangji was probably his favorite. It hurt him to be so powerless to help his nephew back.

Besides, he had already attempted to get him out of his reprieve. But Wangji was stubborn as an ox when he wanted to be.

She could see a couple of disciples trying to coax Wangji to go as well, the bustle near the Silent Room more than she had ever seen. Inside, she heard a couple of voices. Not her A-Niang's but a reasonable amount; juggling, throwing orders - The Medics.

Next to Wangji was a discarded umbrella. One that Yuxin-Jie had probably given him, or rather placed above him, that design was familiar. There were more disciples gently urging him to get away from the rain, and some even had tears in their eyes. But Wangji's eyes were fixed resolutely on the door. His pristine white clothes looked slightly muddy, and Xichen doubted whether he had any motion left in his legs after kneeling for so long. 

His neat appearance that he maintained was not there longer, even his forehead ribbon was slipping over. Xichen felt her heart lurch again at how unprecedented they both had become in the face of grief.

But at least seeing Wangji gave her purpose. She tightened her own forehead ribbon that was slightly askew, walking to the scene. The disciples stepped back, seeing her approach. She could see that Wangji hadn't seen her yet. His gaze was still intent on the door.

"A-Zhan" 

She went straight to the kill, knowing 'Wangji' would not suffice the situation, and visibly, Wangji, kneeling in front of her, stiffened, a short, breathless gasp falling out of his lips. She could see his mouth forming around the word 'Jiejie?' questioningly.

Even as she was crumbling inside, not wanting to do anything more than kneel right alongside Wangji, to ask the Gods, anyone, to keep their A-niang with them, allow them more time, she couldn't.

Instead, she stepped right into Wangji's tunnel of vision, shielding the Silent Room from his sight.

When he looked up at her, his eyes were puffy. The skin around them was red - he had been crying. Although she was generally good with words, the picture left her speechless. He kept staring at her with blind hope. As if her presence could rectify something, his eyes, that resembled their father's, decadent gold suddenly lighting up like the brother she knew.  And he was waiting.

Waiting for her to soothe him with her words, provide the assurance she used to. But Xichen wasn't a liar. There was no reassurance for this, no alternative endings. No secret strategy. This was as plain as how cruel fate could be.

She had never wanted to crush that fresh hope in Wangji, preserving it with the delicacy of a small flower for as long as she could remember. But she wanted to be dishonest with him even less. She could probably spring out a word or two if she tried hard, to assure Wangji for the time being. And what will it do? It won't delay the inevitable.

Thus, even as she felt her knees buckle at his expressions, her own heart hurting so much as if she had acquired a disease of the heart, her whole body aching, she didn't say the placations. Just staring at him. 

The realization was slow. She could see it in how Wangji's brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his tiny fists clenching tighter.

The realization of his sister, his hero, couldn't save the day yet again. That she was as useless as any other at the moment.

Xichen wanted nothing more than to continue to be that idealized hero, wanted to save him from any obstacle on his way. But she was powerless. Useless. There was nothing she could do.

His lips wobbled, face contorting in agony, more tears forming in his orbs and sliding down his puffy cheeks in a silent stream. He bit his lip hard as if to keep the whimpers to himself, and Xichen knelt to the ground, unable to just stay.

She didn't know whether her reach was still acceptable to him. But it didn't take long for her to know.

When she whispered 'A-Zhan' again, her voice also wavering, Wangji launched himself to her lap, finally letting go of his kneeling position, wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight grip, sobbing into her shoulder.

Xichen had never heard him that broken, the sobs, struggling breaths shattering some piece of her each time. But she couldn't stop them.

So, instead, she held on. Wrapping her own arms around him in an equally tight grip, patting his small, heaving back soothingly, letting him cry his heart out. The only truth she could tell him was her whispered 'Jiejie's right here'.

And, she hoped, for both their sakes, it would be enough.

Xichen wasn't successful in getting him back to their room, getting him to sleep. But she was successful in taking him somewhere else, anywhere else from the Silent Room. They were informed that after Madam Lan was stabilized, each of them would get time to visit her. None of them really reacted to the statement, just staring at vacant expressions before mounting that some mountain top that had become their refuge.

Unlike his usual state of being, Wangji was too clingy as if he wanted to feel her warmth to realize her presence. She just let him be. It helped her in an equal sense to have Wangji's physical contact. That, at the very least, he was still there, alive, next to her.

She had wanted to at least dump her belongings back in the room, but was unable to, too focused on reaching for Wangji. But that worked out just as well.

Because finally, when she started playing the Liebing, Wangji let his exhausted tiny body rest, curling into her, resting his head on her lap, and dozing off. She had continued to play long after. Just a melody with no purpose.

For her, Liebing had always been a solace. But she had never played anything that wasn't useful. There were melodies for everything after all. She had 'practiced' it. 'Learned' it. Not 'played' it as per her wish. But that day, there were no more patterns to her notes, just a symphony of things that sounded good, nothing else. Xichen felt like she had lost herself in the hours of this dreaded announcement.

It was almost two hours later that she allowed herself to lean back on the massive tree they were situated under, dropping her aching arms and raking her fingers through Wangji's hair on her lap, absentmindedly. She still hadn't cried. She felt like tears had run out of her system. Her eyes stung, but with the wind more than pain. She just stared at the clouds over Cloud Recess after that. With no thoughts.

Xichen was always thinking about something. She had a lot of thoughts after all. But at that moment, her mind was empty. Not a single coherent thought. And she just let it be. Just staring and nothing else.

Perhaps that was why Xichen didn't see Yuxin-Jie and the other Lan disciple until her name was called.

"Xichen?"

Yuxin-Jie's voice flinched her a bit, unexpected, but still her composure remained as vacant as it was. She just glanced at them, still stroking Wangji's hair, until, with a deep sigh, Yuxin-Jie knelt in front of them.

Xichen was observant, sometimes too much. Her observations at times threatened her own peace, but it was something that came with the perfectionism, the almost obsessive structure she craved. She was learning not to meddle too much, but it was hard.

And as expected, her eyes immediately zeroed in on the tiny red droplets on the edge of Yuxin-Jie's sleeve. It was clear that her Shijie had tried to wash them off as best as she could, but Xichen still noticed.

She forced herself to focus on her face instead of the sleeves, not wanting to go down the path as to why blood was clinging to the sleeve of the best medical disciple they had and whose blood it could've been. But her lingering gaze told Yuxin-Jie everything as she hid that particular sleeve in her outer robe, giving Xichen an apologetic smile.

"Madam Lan is stable now, Shimei. You can go meet her." She said, her voice tender, as if afraid to spook some cornered animal. Xichen supposed she was. In a way. Except she was not spooked, just...absent.

The other disciple behind Yuxin-Jie, Haoyu, was fidgeting nervously, his frame agitated. He was Yichen-Xiong's age, if Xichen was right and had been elected a practicing medic at the Sect Advancement Festival. 

She knew why he was nervous. Her mother's stability only meant the end was nearer. This was the last time they would probably see her. And this stability was momentary at best. Nobody knew how long it would last...how long she would last. 

As per the protocol, considering her now established status as Sect Heir and the fact that she was also older, she had the right to go meet her first. She was offered that position, securing a final conversation with her A-Niang. And she could take it. Have one final memory for herself. But Wangji's small hands clutching at her robes made her not want to follow the protocol. At least this time.

"Take Wangji first, Shijie," She decided, her voice clear like sparkling water. Tasteless and emotionless but crisp in delivery. In front of her, Yuxin-Jie and Haoyu-Xiong exchanged glances, having a whole-minute conversation. Then her Shijie turned to her cautiously.

"Shimei, we can't guarantee her stability to retain long. Perhaps you should-"

"I know." Xichen cut in, making both their eyes go wide in surprise. Knowing that this was a conscious choice she was making, risking her final memory with her mother in exchange for Wangji's final memory with her.

Yuxin-Jie stared at her for a second. Her face was pained. 

"Xichen, you don't have to play the Samaritan. Nobody will think you selfish if you just want this for yourself." Her voice was gentle, reaching out for her hand. Xichen didn't let her. Having any other touch except Wangji's felt like a burden at the moment. She gave her Shijie a sad smile when moving her hand, telling her that she wasn't ready yet. Understanding, as always, Yuxin-Jie took away the hand, still looking at her.

"I'm not playing martyr, Shijie. I've already had three years on Wangji. He needs this more than I," She stated, looking at the sleeping child. Yuxin-Jie and Haoyu-Xiong both exhaled in misery.

"It's no fault of yours that you were born first, Xichen. It's okay to want this. Just have this at least," Haoyu-Xiong started saying, kneeling in front of her as well.

But Xichen really wasn't playing the savior card. Yes, it would be ideal if both of them got to have this. But just because Wangji goes first, it doesn't mean her time with their A-Niang was bound to be less. She just wanted to give Wangji that closure. He loved their A-niang so much.

"I am really not. If fate is so unnecessarily unfair to us, I just want to reclaim some of that fairness. I already have memories with her, more than Wangji does. Let him have this - the secure version of A-Niang. The one he loves," She stated, not letting the two older disciples talk her into going first any longer by waking Wangji up.

Immediately, they changed their expressions when Wangji started to open his eyes, more calm and collected, smiling down at him gently. Xichen thanked them in her mind. This was not a guilt that Wangji should carry if he got to know it later. She was just making her choice.

"Come on, Shidi. Let's go meet your A-niang," Haoyu-Xiong said, getting up, holding a hand to Wangji. Wangji looked at her, confused with a questioning 'Jiejie?' on his lips. Xichen forced herself to smile at him.

"It's alright. You go first. You have been waiting the longest after all." With a tease, she nudged him upwards. Wangji's face almost smiled at the remark, catching their Shixiong's hand before walking down towards the Silent Room. Xichen expected Yuxin-Jie to go as well, as they were busy. But she stayed, still looking at her.

Xichen leaned on the trunk again when Wangji was out of sight, sighing and closing her stinging eyes.

"I hate to see you like this, darling." Getting closer, Yuxin-Jie whispered, her tone maternal. She would make a great parent one day, if she chooses to be. Xichen just gave her an upturn of her lips.

"The world can be so mean, Shijie." Her voice was acutely childish, slight choking on her words. Yuxin-Jie just nodded her head in agreement.

"That was very brave and generous of you, you know. You'll be a great leader one day. I really can't imagine anyone better." An echo of her past statement. Xichen knew she was being nice, trying to assure her, but that remembrance felt like lead in her bones. She was no leader now; she was barely hanging on.

"Like this?" Her tone came out more self-deprecating than she intended, showing Yuxin-Jie her vulnerability. But her Shijie was gracious not to comment on her disintegrating facade.

"Yes. Especially like this. You are too young, Xichen. But still you're so compassionate, so kind. Those are the hallmarks of true leaders. Not strength and will, and power. But humanity," She declared, as if it were a certainty. "You are so human right now, and that's okay. That's exactly what you need to be. Being human takes courage, too, Shimei." 

Her resolute voice shook something in Xichen, even though tears still didn't fall. Slowly, she edged closer to her Shijie, letting herself lean on her arm. Yuxin-Jie didn't reach out to touch her again. But she stayed. Still and steadfast, like a boulder in a weathering storm. 

And that...for the moment, was enough.

It was almost another three hours before she got her visit to A-Niang.

And just by looking at Haoyu-Xiong's face at the doorway, she knew her time was limited. A-Niang was destabilizing again. But she just nodded her head at his grave expression, going inside the Silent Room without much flair.

She saw the frail form of her mother. Just a matter of skeleton, no flesh to be held. The amber eyes that Xichen inherited from her looked dead-exhausted beyond anything imaginable, skin ghostly pale. 

This was not the A-Niang she knew. This wasn't her. This woman with such dissolving presence, such fragile physique, could never compare to her A-Niang. The most beautiful woman Xichen had seen. 

Just looking at her, Xichen wanted to leave. Have the perfect visual of her mother in her head - the one where she was smiling, soft pink lips, and shiny black hair. The one who could lift Xichen with ease, the one who had her on her lap, stroking her hair and kissing her all over the face. The one whose eyes shone when they looked on her.

Not this...form, who looked too breakable, even for a small gust of wind.

She didn't know what noise she made, but the lolling head turned in her direction, and Xichen felt another surge of pain deep within her. She wanted to leave. She wanted out.

But then, through the haze, those amber eyes lit up in recognition, a smile playing on the bloodless lips, and for a moment she resembled the mother Xichen knew. And Xichen steeled herself.

She owed it to her mother to have this time with her, no matter how hard it was. Xichen would regret this moment if she didn't.

Xichen slowly scooted closer to the bed, climbing in next to her. Her mother was too weak to turn or face her, but her eyes still tracked Xichen's movements, infinitely tender. Xichen wanted to scream, shout, anything. But she couldn't.

She made herself face her mother, who was still looking at her. Xichen wanted to break the silence. It was suffocating. But her throat felt closed up. So much so that if she opened her mouth, Xichen was fairly sure she would choke on her breath.

But her mother always knew. Unlike how Qingheng Jun was, her mother never let silence culminate into unbearable distance. Even as little as she got to see them, their A-Niang truly understood them, knew their little tell-tales. She existed in some limited escapades of time, but within those...she was the best mother there was.

"Hello, Sweetheart" 

Her A-Niang's voice was croaky, as if she was channeling a lot to just speak, barely above a whisper. But it thundered in Xichen's head like lightning. Nobody except her mother called her Sweetheart. She had never allowed any other to call her that endearment. It was reserved. Just like how their mother called Wangji 'Baby'. It was their thing. 

Wangji pretended to hate it, grunting and pouting. But both she and A-Niang had seen how pleased he truly was at the term, pink cheeks and pleased smiles.

All of a sudden, that thought crashed into her. Will it be the final time she hears 'Sweetheart'? She was so fond of it. And that seemingly insignificant factor finally had her stinging eyes tear up.

Her mother didn't say anything more, waiting for her reply. She was the greatest listener Xichen had known. She never talked over anyone. Even in their little silly musings. Xichen had talked a lot about conspiracies with her, how stars might have stories on their own, complained about her practices, raved about Mingjue that one time when they were still not quite friends. Her A-Niang had never interrupted. Validating everything with her follow-up questions and genuine interest.

What was Xichen to do then, when her safest place was leaving her? 

"Talk to me, A-Huan." 

Finally, gulping down a generous amount of times, her mother spoke again. Trying so hard, even while she was disappearing, to be there for Xichen. She loved her mother so much. 

Just like Sweetheart, 'A-Huan' was also exclusively used by her mother. She had never called her Xichen once in her life. And Xichen never wanted her to. A-Huan was her rawest form, and it was reserved for the few she loved, the few she trusted, something sacred. Even as much as she loved her Shijies and Shixiongs, none of them had the privilege of calling her 'A-Huan' either. Hell, her own father didn't.

'A-Huan' was for her mother and the tender moments of her Shufu, and whenever Wangji wanted to be truly mischievous, which happened as rarely as a Blue Moon. That was all. 

And the one person who always wielded it with such ease was going to vanish. Leave her behind. Xichen briefly wondered whether she would lose 'A-Huan' alongside her A-Niang. If she had the option of trade, she'd rather lose A-Huan than her mother anyway.

"Hm?" Unable to fully be coherent, Xichen hummed, edging closer to the frail form. Her response finally made her mother smile. 

"How was the Hunt, Sweetheart?" Her mother was asking, like she would've any other day, wanting herself to be informed even about the most mundane fact of her children's life.

She, with the three hours she was provided with each month, gave both Wangji and her a whole new world of affection and attention. But right now, she was fading. Why bother with this now?

Xichen looked at her with tearful eyes, causing her mother to sigh quietly, knowing that Xichen didn't want that small reassurance right then, when the looming end was just behind the door. With great difficulty, she turned herself to face Xichen, biting her lip in pain. Xichen scrambles to stop her, but Wangji has inherited his stubbornness from their mother. If she wanted to do something, she would do it.

"Do you want to say something, A-Huan?" She asked, looking at Xichen with that same disarming softness she always had. Xichen didn't know. There was a whole lot she wanted to say. And she didn't want to say anything at the same time.

"A-Zhan asked me to stay, you know. " She continued, her own eyes red, and a tearful smile. "I said I'm not going anywhere. Not in spirit, at least. He said it's not enough if he doesn't see me. Do you think so too?" 

Xichen stared at her mother. She wanted her to stay, too. That was the only miracle she craved. But she was also hardened enough to see reality. She didn't want to hurt their A-Niang, guilt-wreck her anymore than she was already.

So, she shook her head 'no', being replied with a small smile.

"My A-Huan. Always so strong." She didn't say it with just pride; there was a sadness to it. Mourning the child that still lived within Xichen.

Xichen didn't have anything to say for that. She wasn't being strong. She was just being silent. And considering the look on her mother's face, she knew it just as much.

"Don't be, A-Huan. If you want to ask me to stay, do it. Don't build walls with me. That hurts more," Her mother whispered, reaching out a trembling hand to her smaller one. Xichen gripped it with both of her hands, gripping like a lifeline. That was enough. Her mother knew what it meant. Her way of asking her not to leave.

"Oh, Sweetheart..." Her A-Niang's voice was tearful, broken as Xichen felt inside. But there was nothing either of them could do.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Mumbling the same repetition, her mother tugged at her hand lightly, asking her to embrace her. And Xichen, curled closer to her, closing her burning eyes, inhaling that strange scent of medicine and something still uniquely her mother's, hugging her. There was a light press of lips on the top of her head.

"But I promise you. I will always be here, even if you don't want me to. You'll see me in the clouds, in the breeze you love, in the ways your eyes light up. You won't be alone, A-Huan. A-Niang's going to be with you every step of the way, okay?" She was still whispering, but each word broke Xichen more. She'll never get this touch, this tangible presence. What was the point?

"So, I want you to promise me something." A-Niang's voice became firm all of a sudden. Still tender but now with authority. Xichen opened her eyes to stare at her.

"Do not let go of yourself, A-Huan. I named you happiness. Because you were my radiant light. Live up to it. Live up to everything you ever wanted. But more than that, find your happiness. Do not let yourself be imprisoned by guilt, by duty." 

Her amber eyes were now hard, grave. Xichen knew why. Her A-Niang wanted Xichen to have a better life than she ever did. She let herself be secluded for duty, for grief, and all that got her was an untimely death. She was hoping Xichen's life wouldn't be the same.

"Be their Zongzhu. Be their Sword and Quill. But do not forget to be my A-Huan as well." She was almost pleading now, and Xichen snuggled closer to her. She didn't trust herself to say anything. She didn't know the outcome. How would she fare? She didn't want to lie to her.

So, she gave another hum, a willingness to try. That's all she could be truthful about.

"There's my daughter." Finally, her mother smiled fully. The smile Xichen adored so much. A dimpled smile. Like hers when she was truly happy, but both cheeks had dimples with her mother. 

Then she stopped. Just staying close to Xichen. There was nothing else to say. And Xichen was being a coward. She still hadn't said a single coherent word to her mother.

After a few minutes, she felt it. Her mother was convulsing, pulse erratic. Breathing heavier. Xichen was startled, jumping out the bed to get someone, but her mother caught her hand. The expression in her eyes told Xichen that the time had finally run out. She, while trembling, gave Xichen that same beautiful smile.

Xichen finally found her words.

"I love you, A-Niang." Her voice was barely audible, her heart thundering inside her chest. Her mother smiled wider.

"And I, you, Sweetheart. So much." 

That was the final words her mother said to her, head dropping to the side, losing consciousness. Xichen felt the tears finally escaping. One, then two. Until she was sniffling. She needed to inform the medic. Her mother was still breathing, as slow as it was. She wiped her face hard.

When she emerged from the Silent Room, there were no tears. With a dreadful calm, she informed the medics that her mother had lost consciousness, walking away. A dangerous silence to her figure. Far away from anyone's reach.

It was in the dead of the night when the message arrived. She was cradling Wangji, her brother, exhausted but still vigilant, having wrapped himself and her in his blanket, clinging to her warmth. Xichen tried to reciprocate, but she knew she wasn't as responsive.

Then, Yuxin-Jie was at her door, tears streaming down her face. And all of them knew what had transpired.

Madam Lan has passed away.

Wangji sat back on the bed, curling into himself, a hysterical sob escaping his lips that had Yuxin-Jie reach out to his tiny form immediately. Xichen thought he might push her away. But he didn't. His sobs turning into silent screams, breaths unsteady as Yuxin-Jie held him, rocking him back and forth, trying to get him from the edge.

Xichen was supposed to help. And she did want to. She wanted to reach out, but all she was doing was staring at the scene. Like some outsider. She didn't know how long she had stood there. Still. Frozen.

Finally, without having any alternative to stop Wangji's erratic breathing, which then might result in him choking, Yuxin-Jie pressed a nerve behind his neck, forcing him to sleep. He sagged against her frame, chest stopping its heaving, and face relaxing. It was better.

Then she saw Yuxin-Jie's gaze on her. Confused. Panicked.

Xichen understood why. She was the first person to reach Wangji at all times. Her indifference to him having a meltdown was not Xichen. This was not the Xichen she was. 

Placing Wangji down gently on the bed, covering him in his blanket, Yuxin-Jie tried to reach her. Her voice was asking about her well-being. Probably imagining that she had gone into shock.

And Xichen...

Xichen stepped back and thanked her for her prompt message. And walked away. Not a single twitch of a muscle. Not a single tear. Situating herself neatly like the Sect Heir they wanted her to be, bringing forth her quill. 

Her tears won't bring back A-Niang. Her heavy heart was her burden. She couldn't let 'Lan Xichen' collapse like she had allowed with 'Lan Huan'.

She saw Yuxin-Jie's wide eyes, horrified at her calmness. Too calm. Too reserved. Too dutiful. She could understand. Xichen didn't look like a daughter who had just lost her mother. 

But Xichen was tired of the tears. Tired of being so raw. Tired of being met with apologetic gazes.

"You may leave now, Shijie." Her tone was awfully formal, dismissing Yuxin-Jie. She looked like she wanted to say something, but then ultimately decided against it and bowed. Then she was out of the door.

It was only her and Wangji's sleeping form. She walked to him and adjusted the comforter again. He needed sleep and sat herself back at her desk.

The Madam of the Clan had just passed away. There was a funeral to plan.

Chapter Text

Xichen didn't sleep. Or rather, she couldn't sleep. 

She wasn't consciously aware of what she had been doing in the hours between, but she had no real recollection. Her notes were a mess. Clear, neat calligraphy but written over each other without any sense. She saw the term 'funeral' repeated when she finally did pay attention.

Before she could chastise herself for how wasteful she had been, the next day was there. And the next and the next. 

The third day - The funeral.

The first thing that happened in the morning was the visit from her Shifu, whom Xichen had never seen in anything other than his hard exterior, frowned eyes, and smug smirk at times. But at the moment, he was wearing traditional funeral attire, with sunken eyes, and was carrying a bundle of scrolls in his hand. Xichen had hoped that those scrolls would not appear in her life this fast. 

The Scrolls of Funeral Practice.

But alas, fate had a funny way of giving them the most unexpected. Perhaps Xichen was one of its favorite victims in particular.

Seeing her teacher, she stood up and bowed. 

For a second, looking at her, Shuheng-Shifu's expressions worsened, seeing how the Xichen he knew was buried so far away from the one in front of him. But he didn't question anything. Just sat in front of her desk and started explaining the rituals to her in a quick, efficient manner.

His eyes, at times, went towards the curled-up form of Wangji, who hadn't really left his bed ever since the death was announced.

After Yuxin-Jie had forced him to sleep, the next morning, he had woken up groggy, with confusion as to why his waking hour had been so late and why Xichen was scribbling at her desk. She hadn't given him much notice. No sense of her usual smiles, her pats on the head, and it had told him everything.

Neither of them had eaten a single morsel of food that day - holed up in the room, doing their own thing, silent. Xichen had never felt uncomfortable with Wangji, but that day, she would've preferred him to be gone.

The next day, she was still the same. Reading, writing, and scribbling while he was mute. Yuxin-Jie had come to feed them both, Haoyu-Xiong hot on her heels, not wanting to add their sickness on top of the already grieving Sect. Xichen had just gulped down whatever they had brought with them - a porridge of sorts - one of her favorites with corn and syrup by the look of it, but she didn't feel anything. No taste. She ate only to stay upright. She had to write the letters to the other Sects about the Night Hunt ending early. 

Her Shifu had left her a format to follow, as she had never written any official document before, but considering how busy he was, and how she was the only one with access to the formal seal except him, he had asked her to write via a messenger, still too pained to face either her or Wangji. All she had to do was copy his format, changing the Sect name and the Addressee. But she was happy to have found something to occupy her hands other than meaningless jumbles.

Wangji, on the other hand, had vehemently refused to eat. 

Her brother was not a violent person by nature, but Xichen had been privy to the one incident where he was. It was around when he was 3, ripped away from living with their A-niang like she had been at the same age. While she had asked and begged for a chance, calling repetitively for a warmth that was not going to be offered, Wangji had turned almost self-destructive. While Xichen was her against the world, Wangji was against himself. 

He had refused all his care, causing a ruckus until Shifu had come in and taken care of him himself. And he got to stay with Xichen permanently.

And Xichen saw that this might be a similar situation. 

As expected, it was. When Yuxin-Jie tried to feed him for the third consecutive time, Wangji had taken it and smashed it against the wall with a loud crack. Xichen, still at the desk, had not flinched at all, having predicted the outcome, although she did finally turn her attention to him.

But Yuxin-Jie and both Haoyu-Xiong had gotten the freight of their lives, their Shijie even resorting to clutching her chest. Wangji had not thrown the bowl anywhere near either of them; he wasn't intent on perpetrating pain on others, but still, both of them had frozen, mouth agape, unable to say anything.

Then they had gone away.

For a while, Xichen had just stood at her desk, looking at the food graffiti on the wall while Wangji kept seething. When she saw him slightly calm, she had just pushed the other half of her bowl to him, keeping her gaze on him. He had stared at her for a solid minute before starting to eat, still mute.

But at least, that was some progress. They were not completely out of each other's spheres. Their presence to each other was as welcome as it had been, but it was just hard to acknowledge just then.

So, next time, when they got the food delivered, Haoyu-Xiong had left both bowls near her. And the next and the next.

It was at least better that neither of them was on the verge of collapse due to malnourishment.

Shifu kept looking at Wangji's frame for a long second before sighing and taking out the scrolls. He and all the Elders knew of what transpired, but none of them had really made any comments. Grief culminates in strange ways, after all. Better Wangji get angry and sad than isolate himself in walls like their father had done.

"Understood?" Her Teacher's voice called out. Xichen nodded affirmatively.

The funeral rites were to commence when the sun went down. Lans believed that they were guiding the spirits of the deceased to the Netherworld with much clarity that way. Easing them to the world beyond. And she, as the Sect Heir now, had duties. 

Before Xichen could ask the question herself, her Shifu informed her that Qingheng-Jun would be absent from the ceremony, as he always was.

Honestly, Xichen didn't have many expectations of the man; she never really wanted anything, but she had hoped the man would have enough decency to attend the funeral of the woman he trapped in a ghost marriage, a woman he had allegedly saved from death, but to a much worse destiny. The woman who was, at least by name, his wife. But no. Clearly, with Qingheng-Jun, having no expectations was the right way to live.

Even so, Xichen felt a boiling anger within her. Her A-Niang deserved at least a last farewell. She had half a mind to just storm towards Zongzhu's room. Yet soon enough, it was thawed by many pressing matters.

"Your companions from the Night Hunt had requested to attend the funeral." Gathering the scrolls and getting up, her teacher informed. For a flash, something warm flashed through her before melting into ice in her veins. 

"Yichen had to return with the rest of the Lans anyway to pay final respects, and other Clans needed to be informed as to why the Hunt needed to end early. Your friends had specifically requested to attend." His voice was careful now, assessing her.

"They have no business within a Sect matter, Shifu. Can we not accept?" Xichen asked, emotionless. She didn't want to see any familiar faces at the moment. Even seeing Wangji's tears was a burden to her.

"You know that's not how this works, Xichen. Besides, many of them are Sect Heirs. We can't refute a direct request. It's not-"

"-Good for the political situation, yes, you are right, Shifu." She completed the thought. Why was privacy such a scarce luxury?

"Qiren had been preparing everything at the pavilion. You'd better get dressed and head there as well. Get yourself familiarized with where you need to be." As of sensing that Xichen needed structure back, Shifu urged her back to a drill, enforcing her performance onto her shoulders, a tactic that was sure to get the perfectionist part of Lan Xichen working. Xichen nodded her head in assent.

It didn't feel like they were discussing a funeral. It felt like they were discussing a traditional practice of the Clan to uphold. Xichen preferred it that way.

Then, for the majority of the day, she was at the pavilion, directing students, writing her lines at the rites, familiarizing herself with her positions. She saw her Uncle shifting around with his funeral wear, but he didn't bother to look at her. She didn't either. It was too close to look at each other again. She didn't want to compromise the Heir at the time to be a grieving daughter.

She saw Yuxin-jie's eyes following her throughout. But she didn't address her either. Some small part of Xichen felt guilty for forcing formality on her Shijie for the last few nights, but she could take care of that later. She had a role. She didn't know how else to survive.

That's when the news had arrived, nearly 4 hours before the 9th hour, when the Funeral rites would commence. The Night Hunt cultivators were back.

Her Uncle had sent her a message again to greet the Cultivators from the Hunt.

It was tradition for an authority figure to welcome the Cultivators home from the Hunt officially, and considering that the other Sects were also in attendance, usually the highest authority there needed to attend to the matter.

Even if Lan Qiren was known to be the 'Acting-Zongzhu', in reality, it was only a made-up title to fill in the shoes for someone else. On paper, because her legitimacy was declared officially, as Sect Heir, Xichen was a higher-up in the hierarchy than her Uncle. Thus, after the Zongzhu himself, Xichen was the highest authority there was.

So, she had to stand with her Shufu to welcome them home.

Even if standing so close to her, her Shufu didn't look at her eyes once. Too similar to the woman who just passed. He tried to be more of a presence than Qingheng-Jun, but Xichen could see he was grieving as well. Her A-Niang was the only true friend her Uncle had as well, his closest confidant in the past years. He missed her. And Xichen...she looked like her mother.

Unlike his usual mixture of White and Blue and her dress code of Blue, today both of them were clad head to toe in pure White, no adornments except the forehead ribbon on their frames, funeral clothes donned. 

Xichen had envisioned her first Night Hunt to end in a completely different note - maybe a proud expression on her Uncle's face, her own smiling, exuberant, Wangji's little pout in welcoming her home, but eyes alight. 

But alas...inevitability was too cruel.

She saw the group led by Yichen-Xiong climbing up the mountains, but felt no happiness inside. Nothing at all. She noted her friends - Mingjue-Xiong, Mianmian-Jie, Zixuan, and the rest of her disciples. But she couldn't muster up the energy to even curl her lips upwards, staying like she was frozen in the space between time and misery - emotionless.

Her Uncle gave them all a quick greeting, saying that he was honored for their presence, even extending something to Lan disciples for their good work, and immediately left, leaving Xichen with the duty to show the rest of the Sects their residences for the Funeral. 

All 5 Sect disciples were there - all 40 of the Cultivators in the Night Hunt. Whatever they saw on her face, it had most of them speechless. Not even Wen Chao made a single comment. 

They've already been to Gusu Lan last year, so Xichen just gave them brief directions and assigned a few disciples to take the Sects to their residences, leaving Yichen-Xiong, Ruiwen-Xiong, Xialian-Jie, and her three friends, the closest to her, to greet her personally. Xichen didn't want any of that.

"Shimei." Extending his hands for his usual warm embrace, Ruiwen-Xiong stepped near her, but that only made her step back. Her body almost flinched at the sensation. Immediately, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

And she saw the rest of the crew in much the same state. Xiaolian-Jie's jaw had slightly dropped. Mianmian-Jie had narrowed eyes. Zixuan looked ultimately perplexed; even Yichen-Xiong looked confused, angling his head to the side, assessing her.

But Mingjue looked contemplative. 

While all the others tried to reach out, he didn't, staying rooted in his place. Xichen was momentarily glad for it. Everybody expected Mingjue to be less than thoughtful as a Nie, but he was pretty observant when it came to emotions. Much more than what the civilized Lan and Jin Sects were, evidently.

She drew the boundary, not wanting to be coddled at the moment, bowing her head deeply.

"Thank you for attending. I appreciate it on behalf of the Lan Sect." 

Her voice was calm but cold. She had never directed such a voice at any of them before. While the rest of them looked beyond confused, Mingjue bowed back.

"We are truly sorry for your loss. We hope you find solace in an equally formal tone.

She felt herself smiling a little at that gesture in three days, telling him her gratitude in unspoken words, and he nodded his head as if he understood just the same. 

Soon enough, Yichen-Xiong also bowed back, followed by Ruiwen-Xiong and Xiaolian-Jie, seeing the exchange. Mianmian-Jie and Zixuan looked still confused, but they also bowed back after a beat. 

The next smile felt more natural. Her coldness melting away just a little.

She wanted to say that she was also happy they were there for her. But that sentiment felt hollow when she was still so repressed. So, she resorted to walking away with a final nod of her head.

As she walked away, she heard Zixuan's voice.

"What happened to Xichen-Jie? I have never seen her like that..." voice so obviously concerned. She heard a pat and Mingjue's voice next.

"Let her be. She needs to be Lan Xichen a bit before she can be our Xichen again." His voice was softer now, and she heard the hum of agreement.

"I just hope she doesn't let that swallow her whole." Yichen-Xiong's voice followed her out.

Xichen secretly agreed. She hoped for that too. If it did, she wasn't sure she would have enough energy to carry on.

The whole of Gusu Lan, even on a normal day, was silent. Calm. 

But the day of the Funeral, it was almost inhumanely so. Not even the breeze dared to make a sound; Xichen could vividly hear her own breathing. That's how silent it was.

The Night Sky didn't have a single star - a weighted dark blue blanket with the thickest of clouds as if any light existing with misery was forbidden. Xichen didn't mind. She even thought it apt.

From the morning, the necessary rituals for burial had been going on. The body was bathed, dressed in traditional robes of black burial robes, and placed in the coffin. Xichen and Wangji were informed of every step afterwards. 

Yesterday, there also had been an apparently heated argument between her Uncle and the Council about the Burial itself. Usually, people with deformities or diseases were cremated, and that was the worst possible dishonor to anyone with a station in their society. The Elder Council, or at least the majority, had argued, perhaps, regardless of the implications, that their A-Niang needed to be cremated since she did die of a disease. But her Uncle had argued relentlessly on how that disease had been non-communicable, considering how well off they were and had finally gotten the right for Burial. 

Qingheng-Jun had been informed of the matter as it was progressing, but he had remained silent. He was reportedly worse to add on to it, having dismissed his security detail and imposing that no member of the Clan, not even the Elder Council, was now allowed to visit. He had barred himself from the very minimal links he had to the outside world, from the moment the death was reported. 

Xichen wondered briefly about whether their colossal failure of marriage, as hazardous as it had been, had given some hope for Qingheng-Jun in his years of isolation. After all, he had undertaken the self-imprisonment for Madam Lan. Now that she was...gone, he could rid himself of it and emerge. But he had done the opposite. Xichen genuinely speculated whether the imprisonment was almost a reward to her father, to concentrate on grief and past mistakes, and self-reflection, without having the added burden of a Sect. Or whether he really loved their mother, her being his sole reason to continue existence.

Xichen didn't know which was which. Knowing wouldn't have helped anyway.

But she liked Wangji's reply better. The moment they were informed of that action, Wangji, who had been lighting an incense stick for their A-niang, had just added one more. He was acute. They just became orphans in one night, in all but technicality.

She had gotten him dressed in the morning too, after Shifu's arrival, and he had been at the Funeral Site ever since, gravitating around the main pavilion although he had nothing to do there. He had just stayed in her sight. They had taken lunch together in silence, and then it was back to overseeing. Neither of them had dropped a single tear again.

There were white banners with messages written throughout Cloud Recess. Then, the cyclic nature of the life cycle was drawn in the middle of the pavilion where the body was to be placed. All the Lan disciples now donned mourning robes, slightly different from what they, as the primary family, were wearing. 
Every room was now adorned with talismans by the doors for the spiritual guidance commencement at a Funeral.

As soon as the 6th hour was indicated, the music started, Guqins being played, visible blue rays enveloping the environment. Xichen went through the last of the preparation before kneeling in front of the pavilion with Wangji and Shufu on either side, performing their bows and giving respect to their Gods, inviting them to guide their deceased loved one to a better part in the Netherworld, allowing them happiness if they chose rebirth and reincarnation.

By the 7th hour, all the disciples and the other visitors took their positions, kneeling in circular formation and joining in on their prayers, paying their tribute to the deceased. Xichen wasn't paying any particular attention, nor could she have pinpointed any face in the haze of white as funeral wear was mandatory regardless of the Sect.

Then, by the 8th hour, the smell of lavender hit the pavilion, the body being carried in. Four chosen disciples usually did the lot, usually the most well-regarded. She wasn't surprised to see Yichen-Xiong in the mix. After settling down the body at the center, he gave her a small nod before taking his own position in the circular formation.

Next to her, Shufu sniffled, finally viewing the Black-clad form of their mother. Seeing her in that garment just made everything more surreal. The only thought in Xichen's own mind was the repetitive term 'End. ' And Wangji, who had been so so strong, started breaking on her left, clenching his tiny hands so hard on his robes, trying to hold on even as his entire frame shook with sorrow. 

When the eventual burial happened, when they each had to take a handful of sand and initiate burial by throwing it over the coffin, Wangji completely broke, seeking out her affection openly for the first time since her mother's death, wrapping his mud-clad hands around her midsection and hiding his tearing face in her robes. She let him. Her mind hyper-controlled to focus on the rest of the activities that still needed attention, brushing a mud-clad over Wangji's small form, finally offering consolation like she used to. He didn't say a single word except to stay in the same position until all the rituals were over.

The Funeral ended with the Guqins stopping after three hours; the soul was believed to be guided. Their A-Niang was now completely gone from the familiar world that surrounded them.

Still, her tears remained sealed.

That night, as expected, Wangji climbed into her bed, lying down next to her. Neither of them wanted to sleep.

In silence, they had stared at the ceiling above, hands touching, one comforter draped on them both, close enough to feel body heat.

Then, finally, Wangji, always the bravest amongst them, had spoken.

"I want her back."

Xichen thought it might've been far merciful had he literally stabbed her heart, but she knew what he meant all the same. Yes, they had known her mother had been dead for three whole days, but the Funeral had just made it all the more tangible, real, devastating.

Seeing their mother in Black robes would be one of the most haunting memories of her life and his as well.

Xichen didn't bother with words, instead choosing to press her frame closer to his so his face resided in the underside of her neck. 

As silent as Wangji was usually, some things did make him talk. Grief was one. Bunnies were another. Any factually incorrect argument also got his heated replies. So, Xichen waited for him to elaborate.

"If I close my eyes, she'll be there."

He stated, looking at her with slightly red golden eyes. Xichen knew what he meant. Nightmares. Wangji had a particularly bad case of those. Xichen had seen that when he was three, their Shufu had spent almost every night lulling him back to sleep, pacing across the room with his tiny body on hold when he was first taken from A-Niang.

It won't be a surprise if the same happened now.

"Won't it be good? You'll see her in there," Xichen tried to put a positive spin on it, fully knowing if their A-Niang invaded her subconscious in ghost form, she'd much rather drill out her brain than keep having that same dream. They need no more fantasies. False fantasies. Their entire life was a cosmic joke.

"I'll want her to stay," He said as an answer, brutally honest. Yes, that was the scariest part. The part of wanting. That was not an affordable luxury they had.

"I'll wake you up," Xichen promised, assuring him that she won't let him entertain any false possibilities, that if he fell, she would be just one step behind. Wangji nodded his head solemnly, pressing closer, and somewhere along the line, they both had fallen asleep, in the casual and comfortable normalcy of each other's warmth. The warmth that had fortunately survived in the middle of the tempest of sorrow.

Chapter Text

The next entire week had been a blur, all Zongzhus of other Sects, either visiting personally or sending messengers offering condolences. Even Wen Ruohan dropped by, not forgetting to scoff at the absence of their own Lan Zongzhu. Somehow, for the millionth time, Xichen wished Qingheng-Jun had not inherited the position. 

But at least the visits kept her busy, too busy almost, but it was still a welcome distraction. 

Wangji had resorted to drawing more and more, his art taking shape in more edgy, painful forms, but he kept on drawing. At least he was getting an outlet. Xichen didn't know what her outlet could be. All she wanted was to forget.

Her Shixiongs and Shijies tried to stage interventions throughout the week, even Zixuan and Mianmian. Mingjue had been the only person who had just given her small smiles and left her by herself. She was able to sidestep all their advances, citing some duty until the dreaded Sunday arrived. Declaring the mourning period over, officially. 

It had been Xiaolian-Jie who cornered her in her own room, Wangji gone out with Haoyu-Xiong to visit his bunnies, an act Xichen was sure her friends had orchestrated, no doubt, to get his mind off of pain for a brief period. And immediately, all of them, Yichen-Xiong, Ruiwen-Xiong, and Yuxin-Jie, had poured into the room, shutting the door behind them.

"This is enough, Xichen. If you go on much longer, you'll collapse." The usual joy in Ruiwen-Xiong's voice was absent, eyes hard and dark, staring her down. She had seen that expression on his face in the Arena when he was staring down his opponents, his way of promising that he would win no matter what. But Xichne knew her Shixiong.

"You have curled into yourself, Shimei. We know you are grieving. It's alright to grieve in the open. We are always going to be here." Yuxin-Jie implored, in her usual softness, but her eyes were concerned.

"You haven't dropped a single tear. Not even at the Funeral, Xichen. You're becoming a shell of who you used to be." Kneeling on her other side, Xiaolian-Jie gripped her hand, forcing her to listen to her.

While all that was going on, Yichen-Xiong just stood silent, looking at her. Then, with one cough, he got the other three to distance themselves from her marginally, sitting directly in front of her.

"Nothing I said earlier to you has expired, Shimei. You're allowed to just be. For a whole week, you gave the world the Sect Heir Lan Xichen. Now come back with our Xichen." His voice was almost a plea, eyes darting over her indifferent face.

Xichen didn't want this. Not at all. She might be irrational. She knew all their words were coming from very good places. 

Still...all she heard was incompetence. They wanted her to cry, to grieve as they usually saw it, to tear up, to seek connection. Didn't they see that she hoped it was so too? She hoped for the tears so she could stop feeling this constricting chest pain; she hoped her grief would somehow word it, let itself out. But she had been unable.

Freaking call her incompetent, she was out of any care to dispense now. Yes, she was too incompetent to handle her grief. She was sensitive, like all those voices had doubted her, used to whisper, her emotions did overwhelm her. The only way she saw past them was momentary forgetfulness. Diverted focus to literally anything else.

She was already sitting in the quiet chaos of her crumbling world, trying to make sense of it, and suddenly someone was prescribing emotional expression like it’s pain medication. That kind of push, at the moment, felt intrusive, even invalidating. 

Grief was such a personal landscape, and there’s no universal roadmap for processing it. Why did she need to follow a formula for that as well?!

Sometimes the tears won’t come. And sometimes, one just wants silence, not a soul peering in. When someone insists she “open up,” it felt more like they want her to behave in a way that makes them comfortable, not a way that honors where she actually was.

And here’s the kicker: grief doesn’t owe anyone visibility. She didn’t need to bleed emotions so openly for her experience to be real.

Without meaning to, a hollow laugh escaped her lips, freezing her companions in place. Xichen saw each of them exchanging startled looks with each other. And when she spoke, she had a bite to her words, an octave lower as it was coming straight from her soul.

“Stop telling me how to feel. Stop hovering like you're waiting for me to fall apart so it makes sense to you." She started, her Shijies and Shixiongs all flinching at her cruel terminology, Ruiwen-Xiong attempting to interrupt. But she wasn't done.

"I don’t want to cry—I don’t even know if I can anymore. I’m tired. Not sad in the way you want me to be. I'm raw. Hollow." She confessed, amber eyes almost black in grief, when they directed at her companions, like a watchful hyena.

"So don’t ask me to ‘open up’. Don’t push me to bleed for your comfort. If you’re not here to sit in the silence with me, then go." She finished. All eyes were on her, frozen. She had never been this cruel in her speech; diplomacy was ingrained in her blood. But Xichen was just done. They meant well, but she didn't need their placations on how grief should be. She needed their acceptance of how she grieved. 

Anything to the contrary was maddening at the moment. 

Seeing them still immobile, her anger flared.

"Go. Leave me the hell alone!”

Her voice was a shout, so out of her usual cadence. Fire embodied her entire frame. Softly but surely, Yichen-Xiong got up then, placing a small package on her desk and excusing himself, the rest of them following in his wake, even with strange regards upon her. It was almost an hour after that that she finally had the energy to open that package.

Mooncakes. With her favorite Jasmine-induced paste and a titled book she adored.

Looking at them, she felt her heart plummet straight to the ground, guilt wrecking her inside.

Why was she the way she was? She was screwing up everything!

After the bunny escapade, her brother had returned with a marginally spirited attitude than he was. Xichen, although she wanted to tell him what happened, didn't, seeing the bare light, his gold eyes glinting the tiniest bit again. It was progress. She didn't need to hinder anything else. 

She had also wanted to apologize - ask for forgiveness. But she couldn't get herself to set a foot outside, some damned pride in her refusing to leave, or it was fear of being rejected, now that they'd seen Xichen as she was - an utterly pathetic failure who couldn't handle her own emotions. Who didn't even know the emotions to make sense of them.

Thus, she was very pleasantly surprised by the knock on her door in the dead of the night.

Instinctively, she had turned to Wangji to wake him up, but he had looked peaceful than he had in days, so Xichen put on her big girl face to meet the sudden intrusion.

"Yes?" Her voice called out, soft but loud enough to be heard. Her reply had only been another urgent knock. Grabbing the nearest instrument, which happened to be Liebing, she opened the door, flute raised to strike if needed.

At her door was Nie Mingjue, slightly flushed, hands raised for another knock, eyes wide. For a moment, they both just stared. What was he doing there?

Then he noticed her flute in her hands, raised like a sword, an involuntary chuckle escaping his lips, making Xichen smile at her own ludicrousness.

"Was that a weapon?" He asked, a teasing tilt to his voice.

"It could be," To mask her embarrassment, she stated, even though, for her, Liebing would never be one. Then the moment prolonged, both of them sobering up from the little moment of light.

Mingjue looked at her for a moment longer.

"It's past midnight, Mingjue-Xiong." Her voice was back to composed, smiles disappearing under a facade. "Seeing you here won't end well for either of us," She stated, voice firmer than she was. Mingjue bit his lip in slight nervousness before turning his dark black orbs to her in determination.

"I have an invitation," He declared. "But only if you trust me enough." 

Allowing her enough ammunition to leave if needed, Mingjue announced, looking at her with earnestness. 

They had spent two entire months literally trusting each other to have each other's backs. She trusted him plenty. But even that had reservations at midnight.

"It's midnight," she repeated, assessing him. Mingjue nodded his head, completely serious.

It was against the rules to leave the Hanshi unless it was an emergency. But considering Mingjue's state, it could be. So, she nodded her head, closing the door behind her and following Mingjue's footsteps out, breaking a rule so knowingly but readily.

---

"Do you know where you are going?" Xichen asked, seeing that he was leading her away from the residences, to the more secluded area of Cloud Recess, something he should not be aware of. 

He maintained a good meter between themselves at all times, like how he was supposed to, but she could tell he was nervous when his fingers twitched by his side. Was he okay?

"Mingjue-Xiong?"

She asked and saw him exhale in relief at something in the distance with a quiet murmur of 'finally.' Xichen turned her head and...oh.

They were in front of the Silent Room, her A-Ninag's room, the room she was trying to forget. Nobody was there anymore, the yellow light Wangji adored, indicating presence, dark as night itself.

Mingjue clearly noticed her shift in mood, her brief freeze midway. He slowly reached out, catching the edge of her sleeve, careful not to have skin contact, with hopeful eyes.

"Just trust me, okay?" His voice was softer than she had ever heard, the usual gruffness now a warm embrace.

Xichen gulped by default, although nodding her head. Mingjue, as soon as he was there, got onto the roof, extending his hand to help her up. He turned to the west side and let out an audible sigh of relief.

"It's still here," His voice was relieved. Xichen looked around.

"What?"

"That," he pointed towards the West sky.

The Silent Room's roof had the best view of the sky other than the roof of the Main Pavilion. Shufu had mentioned to her how their A-Niang herself had climbed the roof dead in the night, the only time she was allowed to just exist peacefully, content to stare at the sky.

She had asked her A-Niang about it once, and her mother had just laughed, pressing a dimpled smile into her hair, telling her that the vast sky made her 'Shadow Existence' bearable than 4 pristine walls. She felt as if she belonged in the expanse of that soft darkness. She specifically loved the moon, anything astronomy-related. Hers and Wangji's fascination with the sky had formed via their mother.

A-Niang used to have a few little notes - calculations of any extraordinary events. Like then. 

Because staring past Mingjue's pointed finger was a bright red moon. The Red Moon, which happens only once each year.

Xichen had been excited for all previous Red Moons before, scaling the roof at the Main Pavilion with Wangji since he was old enough to look at it and sip on his milk sweets. It was tradition. But it had totally escaped her notice that the Red Moon for this year was today. 

Her mother hadn't told her like she did every year, after all.

Xichen sort of wanted to go and wake Wangji so he could enjoy the Moon too. But she didn't want to leave the moment. She felt an odd sense of peace, closer to her mother, looking at the Moon on top of her roof. She was scared that this sense of calmness would disappear the moment she stepped on the ground. 

Wangji didn't like red a whole lot anyway. He won't be mad. His favorite was the Blue Moon. It didn't happen annually like Red Moon did - once every 2-3 years. The last one had been the first year of her apprenticeship, when she was 7. They had the luxury to actually see the Moon with their mother that year, sitting on either side of her, cradled in her arms. That was probably why Wangji loved the Blue Moon better.

Xichen had no particular choice. She may, in fact, prefer the Red Moon slightly. It always felt like closure when her mother was too far away. 

Involuntarily, the dam she had held with tight bindings began to dissolve, a familiar sting behind her eyes making its presence known. She wanted to hide her face and move away. But her attention was still on the sky. Mingjue, whose eyes still tracked her frame, gazed upwards when she wiggled slightly, as if giving her space to cry without his attention.

She liked him a little bit more at that.

"Do you know what a Red Moon means?" Mingjue's voice asked, his gaze still on the sky. But his fingers were twitching again - an adorable tell-tale restlessness. Xichen decided not to point that out.

Of course, she knew about the Red Moon. Her mother had used astronomy facts as bedtime stories way too often. It was often seen during a total lunar eclipse, like then, and bore a deep symbolic value in their culture. Her mother had told her a tale of how it was formed due to a red dragon devouring the moon, hoping to find balance, the perfect yin and yang. A Red Moon was representative of personal evaluation, emotional upheaval, new beginnings, and...

And letting go of past grief.

Xichen's eyes turned towards Mingjue, amber reflecting with light. Was he also telling her to move on? 

Mingjue's dark eyes looked back at her, open and honest. Bright. He gave her a small smile even as she frowned at the implications.

"Don't think too much about it. In my family, Huisang is the man with tales and myths. I'm more of the sword and saber." He said, simply, dissipating her silent questions. "I just thought it was pretty. I wanted to watch it with you even before-" He cut himself off, looking at his hands, ears reddening as if he had admitted too much.

But Xichen understood. If all had been well, they would still be at the Night Hunt. Red Moon would have no symbolism except its uncommon appearance and perhaps a toast to their friendship, a new beginning.

Xichen felt warmed inside. She had once mentioned her love for astronomy within the three or four letters she had exchanged with Mingjue-Xiong before the Night Hunt's commencement. He had remembered her words.

"So you remembered." Her voice wasn't a question but a statement.

"I did." His voice wasn't an answer but a promise.

And that made all the difference. She had one more person who just heard her for everything she was. Her true self without any lingering expectations. That felt like a gift itself.

"I actually bothered Huaisang way too much to get the dates right. I'm sort of poor with any Literary pursuit. I even had to let him off his Saber practices one shi early for three weeks," he added, laughing a little. 

It was a nice look on him. His eyes crinkled when he did. And he looked less like a small general in an 11-year-old's body, but a child. Like he was supposed to be.

"Huaisang drives a hard bargain." She quipped, allowing herself to smile back. His smile widened in response.

"You have no idea."

Then it was back to silence. Just looking at the sky. But it was like a comfortable drape on her shoulders. Neither of them had to fill in the space. Just co-existing in that moment felt enough.

"Would you mind if I tell you something?" After a few minutes, Mingjue looked back at her, lying on the roof, a hand's distance away from her. "Though feel free to tell me to shut up at any point." his gaze was intent.

Xichen lay back, mirroring his position. 

"It's unusual for you to have such restraint, Mingjue-Xiong," she noted, looking back at him. He chuckled at that, eyes alight, telling her something which she wasn't able to decipher.

"I don't always have such a short countenance. At least not with people I care for," He voiced out. Xichen felt a sudden warmth on her cheeks. She hoped the night was dark enough to cover whatever color her cheeks had acquired, but Mingjue's subtle quirk of lips told her that might not have been the case.

"Go ahead," Wanting to direct the topic elsewhere, she looked back at the sky.

Mingjue waited a bit, as if gathering his thoughts, hesitating a bit as if he was admitting something out loud for the first time. But then he became determined, yet again.

"When I lost my A-Niang-" The first few words had Xichen looking at him in a whiplash. Lost his mother?! When?! How?! As long as she was aware, Madam Nie was alive and well in Qinghe. She had seen her last year at the Festival!

Seeing her perplexed face, Mingjue stopped short, understanding her bewilderment.

"Oh...you didn't know." His voice was timid, eyes soft, gauging her reaction.

"She was fine last year." She heard herself say, wanting to reach out to Mingjue. Mingjue looked surprised at that. For a moment, he just blinked, and then a soft, tender smile appeared on his face.

"That's my Jimu (Step-mother), Xichen. Huaisang's mother" 

Xichen felt as if the entire world axis tilted, looking at the boy who was talking about loss and death with a small, soft smile.

"I'm so sorr-" She tried to express her condolences, for being insensitive, for not knowing, for his loss, but he just shrugged.

"My A-Niang died when I was barely a year old. You weren't even born. Don't apologise. I don't have any core memories with her like you do." His voice was genuinely relaxed, not pretentious. Xichen still felt remorseful.

"Besides, my Jimu considers me her own. She's great," He said with a smile, trying to decrease her anxiety. Xichen exhaled, relaxing her tensed frame.

"But I still wish at times, I knew my real A-Niang, you know? Every elder reminds me how I am not Jimu's son; Jimu never allowed me to call her mother either, even if she was mine in all the ways that mattered. Despite not knowing her, the crack she had left still lingers to this day. The space which can never be fulfilled" 

Xichen briefly wondered whether she had it fortunate. She knew her A-Niang, knew she loved her without a doubt, knew she would want Xichen in any way, shape, or form. Mingjue didn't have that certainty.

"My father tells me she loved me with all her heart. I trust him, but it's not easy to trust the words about someone I haven't met. Perhaps she might not like the Mingjue I turned out to be." His voice wasn't sad, just contemplative. But Xichen felt it was drenched in Nostalgia.

"My mother has a garden, you know. With the rarest of flower breeds, medicinal herbs. She had been the greatest medic in the Sect before she became Madam Nie. My father had met her when he had gotten injured in a Night Hunt." Mingjue's eyes were alight when he narrated it. Xichen felt her focus centralizing on him completely.

"She had not recognized him. Even yelled at him for being a bonehead." Mingjue turned to her with a teasing look, and she flashed back to her calling him Mangwang in their first meeting, drawing out a chuckle from her. 

"He had fallen in love then, and I don't think he had fallen out of love even now." Mingjue sighed, his attention returning to the Moon as hers remained on him. He truly looked his age then. A child enthusiastic about his parents' love, their life together.

"He loves Jimu, too. But his first love will always be my A-Niang. I have seen her, you know. In some pictures, and sometimes, I get so angry. Jimu had been in my life ever since I could remember. Was love that easy to move on from?" He continued, his fingers now drawing random patterns on the roof tiles.

"But then I asked her, too. Jimu said love is perseverance. Adapting and surviving while the memory lived on. To honor the loved, we need to live the life they would want us to live."

"Wasn't she envious?" Xichen asked, genuinely listening to his every word. Mingjue smiled.

"Why would she be? The way A-Die loves her is not the way he loved my A-Niang. They are two people. Just because we lose love once doesn't mean love itself is over. We can learn to love and be loved again." Mingjue continued, slowly gazing at her, telling her something without spelling it out. Xichen didn't break the gaze.

"I love Jimu. I love the vision of A-Niang in my head. I love A-Die. I love Huaisang. I love my Sect, my people. I wouldn't have been able to if I sealed myself off to it." he didn't make it advisory, just a plain statement, and that got Xichen thinking.

"But what if you lose again?" She asked, fearing the answer. 

"Then you grieve the loss. As much as you want. As long as you want. But not letting it render you incapable of anything else. You love and you lose. It's the way of life. Sooner or later, you need to adapt." Mingjue's voice was a gentle caress now, still looking at her.

"What if you don't know how to get over it? How to grieve? How to even begin the process?" Xichen looked away with the question, not wanting him to see pure vulnerability on her face.

"Then don't try, Xichen. Pain doesn't have a fix. It demands to be felt. It's a disease with no cure, and the only way to go through with it is to face it head-on. You can't schedule feelings, you know," he added, nudging her arms a little.

"How did you- I mean, how did you get over the loss?" Xichen questioned, still looking far away, but her entire focus was on his next words.

"I didn't know what to grieve. I didn't know her. So, I grieved what I could have had. I let A-Die in, the only man who truly knew her, let him tell me stories. I grieved a memory, and that made it easier. I visit her every month when I'm in Qinghe. I thrive on a connection of my own. It doesn't feel as lonely then," he was thoughtful. Xichen had expected him to focus on something else. Away from pain. Away from torment, but he had chosen them. Mingjue was one of the bravest people she knew.

"What if it doesn't go away? The pain?" Her voice was a murmur. Her throat felt clogged up.

"It never truly does. But that's good, right? It means that you had a relationship in a brief time that was sustainable for an entire life. You just learn how to not lose yourself over it," He smiled.

"I suppose," Xichen conceded. Mingjue didn't say anything more, turning back to the sky. A warm breeze rushed past them, clouds dancing in the sky. Xichen felt herself smiling at that. Her A-Niang did promise she'll be in the breeze and the clouds.

"My A-Niang used to tell me that Red Moon was formed when a red dragon ate the moon to restore balance..." she started, slowly opening up about the stories, about the folktales her mother told them. Not once did Mingjue interrupt. Black eyes completely turned to her, hanging on to her every word, reacting. Questioning as if all her memories were worth a ton of gold. His eyes were bright with interest.

With each word, Xichen felt her walls crumble, and her stinging eyes worsened. Her voice started cracking even as she continued, tears finally falling. When she wiped the first batch of them, Mingjue extended his hand slowly, giving her enough time to pull away before intertwining his right hand with her left, eyes focusing away from her face. Assuring her of his presence while simultaneously giving her her privacy.

She didn't cry hysterically, nor did she sob or scream, but the tears that finally fell relieved her so much. It had been nearly dawn when she stopped, her jaw aching, eyes swollen. But she felt more peaceful than she had been from the moment her Shufu collected her at the Night Hunt.

Before anybody could get up, they had to leave. Like when they climbed, Mingjue helped her down, smiling a little at her. He made no comments, nothing. But his stay told her enough, so the next words she said didn't surprise her.

"Can I have a hug?" 

Extending her arms, she looked at him with hopeful eyes, feeling like she was. A child of 9 years.

For a moment, Mingjue looked at her with wide eyes, his face suspiciously red in the morning sun, and he blinked a couple of times. The silence was getting awkward to the point that Xichen almost drew back her arms, trying to apologize.

But in the next moment, she was enveloped in a warm hug, one of his hands gently resting on her back, the other cradling her head. Not forceful. Not tight. Not strong. Like he was embracing glass. 

Xichen hadn't expected such gentleness from Nie Mingjue. The boy who threw around his opponents like flour bags, the boy who went into angry rage rants, who was a violent-love person to all his disciples. But here he was, cradling Xichen like she was a flower. 

Xichen wrapped her own arms around him for a moment. They didn't stay long. Both their faces were slightly flushed, but they had matching grins. The hug was not bad. Not bad at all.

"I'll get going now. We'll be departing for Qinghe in the evening. But Xichen-" He hesitated, leg shaking slightly, fingers twitching, his nervous tics. 

"Hm?" Xichen hummed, waiting.

"I'm only one letter away. I'll make myself available if you request it." His voice was almost shy, but the earnestness in his eyes had Xichen flushing a bit harder.

"I'll remember and..." She stopped short, looking at him. He waited for her to continue. "It's the same with me. I'm also only one letter away."

She didn't turn her head back to him, bowing hastily, feeling her face on fire, walking away. 

Xichen hoped that Mingjue-Xiong understood her words, though. She was completely sincere. As genuine as she could be.

Chapter Text

29 years ago

Xichen wasn't aware how many letters she had exchanged with her friends over the past year and a half. The time felt longer than that - to the point where she couldn't think of a time when she hadn't dedicated a mandatory shi of her day to correspondence.

She realized that while admitting sentimental details in front of a person was difficult, as if ripping a piece of one's soul each time, confessions on paper came easily. Perhaps due to the lack of very visceral immediate reactions of the person in question, possibly because while writing, she only had herself for company, but somehow, over the months, she had indeed divulged a lot of herself to her friends. Especially Nie Mingjue. An unlikely guess at any emotional attachment.

But the older had been wonderfully open, honest, and even kind. He always reassured her with his own sentimentality. His words were not polished nor carefully crafted like hers, but edgy and direct. Xichen liked them that way. She, as much as she craved control, also got easily exhausted because of it. She just didn't trust anyone enough to carry it for her, nor was she selfish enough to demand someone to grow into her burden like she'd had to do.

Her musings vanished when Bichen slashed at her upper forearm. If she were a millisecond late, she would've bled.

She smiled slightly at Wangji in front of her, who suddenly looked alarmed, his eyes widened by a fraction, the grip on his sword loosened enough to kick it away if she wanted, assuring him that she was fine. He returned it with softened eyes, tightening his grip again.

Although he had started his practice only this year, her brother was getting rather good with everything. Posing a real threat to her position as the best disciple in the Novel Category. Although she still didn't want to think about why exactly he was this good, pushing himself to the brim again and again in some twisted form of retribution to escape his own mind, he was getting better. More amiable, more socially adaptable, and politically present. That, above all, made her so proud of her Wangji.

"Rest"

Done with the practices for the day, she called out, noticing her Uncle rapidly walking to the Main Pavilion. Her attention now focused on the large number of scrolls in the hands of the two nervous senior disciples trailing behind him. What was going on? Xichen had seen a larger number of scrolls just these past few months than she had seen in her entire lifetime before.

Even more than the increasing number itself, what worried her was the expression on her Uncle and the rest of the Senior Disciples. Even Yuxin-Jie, now an official Medic for the Sect and largely privy to what was happening inside the Elder Council, considering both her parents were members, kept hush on the subject. Even Yichen-Xiong had just patted her hair when she asked if he had any idea what could've been transpiring. Whatever it was, Xichen was getting agitated. Her gut feeling was usually right, and this time...

This time it wasn't at all positive.

Wangji looked at her face, curious, head tilting to a side, like hers did when she was also confused, silently asking her whether she was okay. Xichen nodded her head at him, reaching out to fix his slightly tilted forehead ribbon. She was at least positive the increasing number of scrolls had nothing to do with her brother, given the fact that half the Council Members had been giving her odd looks and not him.

Well, that was doable. Her entire life was an odd arrangement. She was used to it. There was no fresh take there.

Thus far, she had always emerged victorious. She can hope that whatever was happening at the moment will also have a similar outcome.

Bāyuè (Mid-Autumn Festival Month) was just around the corner now. The usual time the Sect Advancement Festival was held. It was hard to imagine that 2 years had passed between her last Festival and then. Time really does fly quite swift.

Xichen had been picked as the Novel disciple to represent the Sect again. A new face was taking Yichen-Xiong's place as the Senior disciple, and Ruiwen-Xiong had also been replaced by a new disciple, as he had advanced to the Senior Category last year and hadn't made the cut against Sheng-Xiong, Yichen-Xiong's replacement.

But Ruiwen-Xiong and Xiaolian-Jie were still among the parade of the best 50 disciples, so they were to travel with her.

The other fact that they were informed was that the host Sect this year was to be Lanling Jin. A fact that Jin Zixuan had not shut up about since it was declared (and even before, privately, in his letters). He was too excited to show her Jinlin Tai (Golden Carp Tower). Mingjue-Xiong had reported that he was just as annoyingly obnoxious in his letters to Qinghe as well. Mianmian-Jie informed her that she was a hair'd breadth away from homicide, by killing her own Sect Heir, because Zixuan had been bragging and boasting to literally anyone in his vicinity about how this was going to be the best Sect Advancement Festival there would be.

Xichen understood his enthusiasm. She was excited for Lan Sect to host the Festival last year; it was her first in her home turf. But she'd like to believe she bore that excitement much better, at the very least with a touch of modesty, than whatever Zixuan was displaying just then. Mingjue-Xiong had bluntly told him that it wasn't a flattering color on the younger in relatively less refined words, but Zixuan was insistent. At these times, Xichen could very clearly see Zixuan's parentage to be that of Jin Guangshan's - a man who would sacrifice everything for his image, reputation, and power.

At least, Zixuan's boasting was almost childishly adorable, not uncomfortable like Jin Zonghzhu's. Xichen hoped the child retained that element to adulthood.

Her Shufu had increased her training a bit, nowhere close to how intense the last year had been, but still competitive. Yichen-Xiong actually stayed back from his 'adult' outings to help her prepare, personally tutoring her on her forms. Some she had thought she had perfected had been quite erroneous. She was grateful to him for staying patient with her, even when she sometimes got frustrated quite easily. She didn't take well when it was stated that she wasn't right.

She didn't lash out at all, but she took time to recover from the blow, giving silent treatment until she was okay. Fortunate for her, Yichen-Xiong was an excellent teacher as he had been as a disciple. He was still the closest to her in terms of any member of her Sect, bar her brother. But now they had a slight distance, a distance that formed after her cataclysmic dismissal of them after A-Niang's passing.

Her Shixiongs and Shijies had walked on eggshells around her for days. But soon enough, Ruiwen-Xiong had been back to teasing her gently, and so was Xiaolian-Jie. Yuxin-Jie was also as she always was. Yet, Yichen-Xiong had changed slightly. Viewing her agency, her voice, with a slight wariness than earlier. Her Shixiong still cared for her deeply. But she could sense that he had seen something that the others hadn't. Some tendency in Xichen, which scared him. She had wanted to ask because she wasn't aware what exactly that was, but she also feared the answer.

Thus, that topic had been off the table ever since.

She still had her Shixiong back, practicing her, teaching her, sharing space with her, like the Elder Brother she always needed. That was more than enough.

She took out the last letter from Zonghui-Xiong. An unlikely partner-in-crime relationship she had formed with Mingjue-Xiong's future second-in-command. The older was joyful, fun, dutiful. He had an obvious softness to his speech that Mingjue-Xiong lacked. He was ruthless as a fighter; she had seen him in the Arena, but beyond that, he was always the one who entertained Huaisang's whimsies. The second person who arguably made Mingjue-Xiong yell out profanities in frustration.

But that was how their friendship worked. She knew there would be no hesitancy in Zonghui-Xiong's part if it ever came down to laying down his life for his Sect Heir. It had been obvious from the very first letter where he had spoken of Mingjue-Xiong for an entire paragraph and how valuable Xichen's inclusion with him was, something that neither she nor Mingjue-Xiong had bothered mentioning to each other. (Although they both would agree.) His care was not extended just for Nie Mingjue, the Sect Heir, but also for Nie Mingjue, the boy. He reminded Xichen of her own Shixiongs. Sweet and protective. He was the very definition of solidarity, comrade loyalty.

Xichen laughed at the utter chaos in that one letter, heart fond at their theatrics. But she was also focused on the birthday she missed. Usually, Sect Heirs received a plethora of gifts after being publicly claimed. So, it was no wonder Mingjue-Xiong received a lot, too.

But she didn't know. Nobody mentioned anything to her. Her Sect probably took care of the official gift, but it should've been from her. He was her friend. Did he think that she didn't care? But he didn't tell her either. She didn't have clairvoyance to know by instinct. Even more so, she had told hers to him.

Next to her, Yichen-Xiong, who was going through her texts, snickered. When Xichen looked up, he was looking at her face.

"You are pouting, Shimei." His voice was a soft tease, making a pink hue rise to her cheeks. She had completely forgotten he was still here. She didn't reply though. He wasn't wrong. She felt a little blindsided. Pouting was warranted after that.

"What did Nie-gonzi do?" Her Shixiong continued, making her look at him with narrowed eyes. It only made his amusement grow further.

"How do you know it's about Mingjue-Xiong?"

"You just confirmed it to me." With a wink, he chuckled as Xichen felt her embarrassment grow further. Why did she always lose composure at the mention of the Nie Sect Heir?!

"I'm jesting, Xichen. What's wrong?" Done with his teasing, Yichen-Xiong leaned back, focusing his attention on her, texts neatly placed on top of her desk. She adjusted a single paper that was disarrayed, making her Shixiong smile at her more soft. Her own way of assuring him that she was still the Xichen he knew underneath the newfound armor of polite indifference.

"What's a good birthday present, Shixiong?" she asked instead. She had to make amends, after all. Granted, she didn't know. But she knew it was better late than never. Besides, considering the main focus of that entire letter was the missed birthday, she should abide.

"Present?" Yichen-Xiong's eyebrows furrowed before slowly easing out as realization dawned on him. Eyes lighting up with amusement yet again.

"You didn't wish Nie-gonzi, did you?"

"He didn't tell me." Her voice sounded petulant to her own ears, even as Yichen-Xiong's amusement just kept rising.

"That's why you were pouting? Because he didn't tell you?" He asked, knowing full well it was the exact reason. Xichen didn't bother replying. Her face was answer enough. Yichen-Xiong reached to pat her hair with another chuckle.

"Well, you know him better than I do, Xichen. You can decide what to gift him. I am sure he is not upset with you either. He probably didn't want to burden you. Or something else. But I'm sure he'll be happy with whatever you get for him, too."

That wasn't good enough, though. She wanted to get him something he would truly like. Like Baxia...

Seeing her dejected face, Yichen-Xiong grinned, knowing her thoughts without spelling them out.

"If it's any consolation, Shimei, I am visiting the market tomorrow. I'll extend you and Wangji the invite, too. We can browse those stalls and get inspiration. What do you say, Xichen?"

In place of an answer, she gave him a dimpled smile. Unbeknownst to Xichen, seeing her flushed face and almost bashful grin, Yichen-Xiong was seeing lion dances and hearing thundering drums in real time. With his private smile, he grinned softly. It felt good to see his tiny Shimei being a little girl. Like she was supposed to be.

It wasn't unusual for her to go to the marketplace. She went every two weeks. But strangely enough, she was nervous for this visit. Excited even. To find the perfect gift.

Wangji had squinted at her hard when she dragged his seven-year-old self while he was still adjusting his outer robe, muttering something under his breath about how she was 'too enthusiastic'. But Xichen was on a mission. Yichen-Xiong, on the other hand, had only laughed, holding one of her hands and one of Wangji's in the other, leading them through stalls.

As usual, considering they were Cultivators and of course, the myriad of attention her Shixiong got from the female population, the day was predicted to be long. Ruiwen-Xiong and Xiaolian-Jie, who had tagged alongside Yuxin-Jie, who was also making her rounds in the market, had been no help whatsoever to make the visit quicker and uneventful.

At some point, Ruiwen-Xiong had dragged Wangji to his favorite Sweet Place there, knowing of her brother's notorious sweet tooth. Her little gremlin had huffed and puffed, like expected, but his eyes had lit up at the prospect, so Xichen had encouraged him to go. Besides with Xiaolian-Jie and both Ruiwen-Xiong, there was no reason for her to be concerned for them. She'd rather be concerned for anyone who crossed their path.

Besides, Wangji had left her clues for a month about going to that place, before their A-Niang passed away. She had always wanted him to go. She wasn't a particular admirer of the offerings there, but she wanted to go for him. This way, she didn't have to eat anything she didn't necessarily like, and Wangji got to enjoy his visit with actual enthusiasts. It's a win-win on two fronts.

But somehow, even if everything worked out perfectly for her, she wasn't satisfied with anything, any of the gift stalls Yichen-Xiong had led her to. they had walked around the entire marketplace, but nothing of noteworthy caught her eye. Even if her Shixiong didn't complain, she could see he was also getting bored and tired with her perfectionism translating into gifts. Xichen felt guilty for dragging him along on her expedition.

"It's okay, Shimei. I'm not tired." As always, he had downplayed his discomfort, but Xichen knew that Yichen-Xin was now busier than ever. He had his own adult life to get to, rather than coddling her.

"I'll be okay, though, Shixiong. Yuxin-Jie is right there. I'll continue with her. You should go and rest. You look like you might collapse any minute," Xichen chided her much taller senior, him laughing at the admonishment. It was probably hilarious from the outside. Xichen barely reached his waist. Her Shixiong was well over 6 feet in height, after all.

Besides, Xichen knew he had been travelling non-stop for weeks. Then, immediately after he was back on Cloud Recess, he had taken over her training. But he was also training some more junior disciples, grading, making plans every night. He probably hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Finally, giving in to the temptation, her Shixiong asked, to which she replied with an enthusiastic nod. With a final pat on her hair, he parted ways, making her promise to go to Yuxin-Jie and stay by her for the rest of the outing. He was sometimes way too overprotective.

She saw Yuxin-Jie's silhouette by the medicinal stalls as she had come down to replenish their stock of herbs. It was slightly excluded from the marketplace, in the very corner of the city, shadowed and colder. But Xichen always found this place so eerily quiet and calm. She liked calm silence.

And that's when she saw the small shop.

Xichen was truthful in assuring her Shixiong that she would find Yuxin-Jie immediately. And she had no want to go back on her words. She did find her. She'll just browse this one final stall before calling it quits for the day.

A shining charm by the front caught her eye, a jade pendant of the highest quality. The stall spelled quiet wealth, something not a lot can afford. But Xichen never really wanted for anything. Wealth was something, one of the only things, that was a perk of being the daughter of a Sect Zongzhu. Yet, she had never been drawn to extravagance - she far preferred modesty to shine. Something Zixuan always scoffed at.

But honestly, she preferred her low-key comfort to the obvious display of richness. It wasn't very nice to prance around in one's wealth when many could only dream of such a life. She disliked Jin Guangshan for that exact reason, because eventually money had become his currency for everything - trades, acquisitions, agreements, arguments, and even relationships. To him, a life could be measured, and that was something Xichen would never make her peace with.

As any other disciple, Xichen also received a modest allowance and had access to much more if she needed it, given her position. But she had never gone beyond the price limit any other ordinary disciple would be offered. It was a lesson that was drilled into her and both Wangji's head at a very young age by Shufu, to never hold them exclusive of their peers unless they shone by their own merit, by their own talent. And Xichen respected that vision a lot.

Besides, she never really had much of an expenditure. Her only expenses were the once-a-year gifts she got for her closest friends, her study materials, or any other sweet escapades she desired at certain intervals.

Still, this was a new situation. Were there any protocols to follow when the gift exchange was inter-Sect? Or any definitive gifts that a Sect Heir should receive?

All Xichen had received were very rare silks of some Sects, Unique Academic Work, and rather expensive placeholders that purely stood as remembrance. None of them held deep meaning to her. The Wens had gifted her the exact same copy of the academic work that she was already studying, knowing full well that Cloud Recess probably had more copies than a good 100. It was a rather poor attempt at digging at her. They just wasted their money on something she already had, and now it sat in Lan itinerary if it was ever needed.

Others were similar too. Except for Mingjue-Xiong who had sent her something extremely flattering. A green jade amulet - for her sword. Amongst many other personal jewellery she had received, very docile and feminine, his gift, his personal gift, had been the only one that had respected Xichen as the disciple, Xichen as the cultivator. Besides, it also paired well with her green jade handle of Shuoye. She hadn't quite started wearing it often, but that was one of her favorite gifts that year, alongside the considerably large painting Wangji had done of her.

She wanted to return the sentiment, irrespective of the fact that Mingjue-Xiong hadn't told her about his birthdate at all.

She browsed through the materials in the shop, not drawing too much attention to herself as there were already a few occupants there. When she looked over the owner. it was a man with flowing white hair, a beaming smile, and a face that was impossible to guess by age. The man oddly put Xichen at ease.

She went around the shop, getting on her tiptoes to reach some higher shelves, as she was too small and she didn't necessarily want to show off her spiritual power amongst the commoners. One kind-faced old woman even smiled at her endearingly, like all those smiles her A-Ninag used to direct at her, finding her mannerisms adorable.

Xichen gave her a shy smile. It was rather rare when she got tender expressions from adults. Even though she was most definitely a child, not even 10 years old.

She started looking around. All of them were of the highest quality, expensive, useful, beautiful - all that was true. But none of them really spoke to her. None of them suited Mingjue-Xiong she knew.

Slightly dejected, she turned to leave when the owner finally gave her attention, kneeling to her level.

"What are you looking for, young lady?" He asked, his voice soft, eyes softer. Xichen almost pouted. She wanted to find the present herself. And that was exactly when her eyes went to the few charms clutched at his waist. Perhaps personal, but Xichen found her gift amongst them.

"A gift." With brightened eyes, she gazed at the man. "I think I just found it."

"Oh?"

"That charm in your belt. It is exactly what I wanted."

That charm was a saber, a saber that looked all too familiar, eerily similar to Mingjue's famous 'Baxia'. Made with jade and slightly grey. It had no smoothened edges like a typical jade charm, but was rough and volatile. But smooth jade was always manufactured; the sharper the jade, the more authentic, more vulnerable, and softer it was in comparison.

It perfectly matched the Nie Mingjue she had come to respect and cherish. An outwardly violent boy who could bring the softest night to a person with his reassurance.

"It is not for sale, pretty little lady." With a slight smile, the owner said, making her face fall downwards immediately. Oh, that's such a shame.

For a few awkward seconds, neither of them spoke. But after a while, she finally found her voice.

"Do you have any copies?" Her voice has softened with timidity, her eyes now large and searching. "Or even a way to make it would be fine," Xichen continued.

The owner stared at her a moment longer.

"Would you mind if I ask who this is for?"

Xichen gulped.

"I have someone I want to gift something noteworthy. Someone who helped me without any complaint or advice - just presence"

Her answer had the man smiling wider, his eyes knowing something beyond Xichen's comprehension. He slowly retrieved the charm from his belt.

"Seems special," he commented, just as another man, now with flowing black hair, entered the shop. His face occupied the same timelessness as the man in front of her, shorter in stature but considerably broader and more powerful. His face was scowling, and he didn't look like the typical customer.

Yet seeing that man, the one kneeling in front of her, visibly lightened, eyes literally shining as a full-blown grin made it to his face. His face seemed to lose all its tense lines at his mere presence.

The scowling man turned to them, his scowl disappearing slowly when he took on the scene, eyes jumping between them before finally settling on the other man, giving him a soft quirk of lips. They didn't greet; there was no exchange of words or really, no notable interaction, but Xichen almost felt invisible. Their presence filled out the room so entirely with such brightness that Xichen didn't mind disappearing under it for a while.

As if sensing her thoughts, the white-haired man turned back to her, slowly fisting the saber charm on her comparatively tinier fist with such gentleness. She could still feel that the other man's gaze was focused on them.

"Such presence is hard to come by, little one. Here. Gift it to that someone."

Many didn't leave Xichen speechless, but he did. When her jaw dropped at that kind gesture, eyes widening, the man chuckled a little, patting the top of her head, like Yichen-Xiong always did when he found her adorably charming - endearing. She saw that the chuckle made the dark-haired male gaze at the man in front of her with an almost starstruck expression.

They seemed to be...

No, they were in love.

That was the very first time Xichen truly saw such passion. Unadulterated devotion. She had never seen her parents together in one room, after all, despite her father being known as the 'great romantic' of his time or whatever.

Looking at them...love didn't feel all that wicked, that painful.

She took the charm off his hand with her own dimpled smile, reaching for money, but the dark-haired male crossed the threshold to stop her hand, giving her a pat on the head like the other man did.

"No charge"

That's all he had uttered, but the other man melted as if he had uttered the most brilliant poetry known to man. Involuntarily, that made Xichen giggle, having the owner coo at her 'sweet charm', whatever he meant by that.

Finally, the owner straightened back, giving her another smile, his hand reaching towards the dark-haired man.

"I think someone is looking for you, little one. You'd better get going."

Oh, right!

Yuxin-Jie was probably done with her medicinal herbs. She needed to go back. But strangely, Xichen felt a bit remorseful. They had made her very comfortable.

"Thank you, sir. I'm grateful for your kindness," She said, bowing deeply, expressing her gratitude. The two men just smiled at her again. Well, the owner did. The man just gave her a quick tug of lips. She'd say that counts as a smile, though.

Her heart content, she went out, immediately bumping into Yuxin-Jie.

"I was scared, Xichen. Where were you?" Her Shijie asked, seizing her hand, as if to keep her in sight. She squeezed her hand in reply, reassuring her silently.

"I was just over there in that-" She turned towards the shop, but immediately cut herself short. The shop that was open a moment ago was now closed, as if it was never open in the first place.

What the...

"Yes?" Her Shijie asked.

"Just in that area," Xichen smiled at her, hoping she'd not question her slip up and she didn't. Her slight frown told her that Yuxin-Jie didn't completely believe her cover-up, but it was of no significance, after all. Xichen was there.

"Hm"

Well, be as it was. Xichen finally had her gift. That should count for something.

Chapter Text

Heyyyyy my precious readers! 😎💖

Okay, real talk—this is not a story chapter. It’s a bonus, a little peek into the characters that I probably should’ve done at the very beginning… but well, I like fashionably late entrances. 😏 And yes, I’ve been taking my sweet time with collages and all the artsy stuff, so here we are.

This little bonus was on hold for a bit because, aside from fan fiction, I’ve been diving headfirst into the actual literary world. Big news: I was nominated for the Best Translation Manuscript in the country and made it to the top three finalists! 😭 The other two nominees were legends, so honestly, it’s such an honor. I may just be a teenager stepping into these waters, but this moment meant so much to me.

Also, for those who don’t know, I’m an actor and director, so lately I’ve been busy directing Bureau, plus translating the script for its upcoming stage production in a few months. On top of that, there’s university stuff—courses, admissions, the whole academic chaos—so my hands were full.

And yes, I’ve been working as a part-time translator and dabbling in media/public relations too. Basically… life has been wild. I even celebrated my birthday recently (goodbye, teenage years 👋), which was an adventure in itself.

BUT fear not! Now that some of the chaos has settled and I’ve kind of learned what “time management” means (kind of), I’m back in story mode. I’ve mapped out all the upcoming chapters, and I’ll be writing tonight and tomorrow. So, while you enjoy this little character bonus, know that the real story is marching right back to you.

Thank you for your patience, your love, and for putting up with my chaotic genius. You’re honestly the MVPs of my life. ❤️🙏

(This introduction focuses on the characters who frequent Part I of The Quiet Reign. A separate Part II intro will come later once those characters make their grand entrance 👀)

🐉 The Jin Clan of Lanling — “Gold-Plated Problems”

Rich. Shiny. Overdressed. If you can see them from a mile away, that’s the point. They don’t walk, they glide—on floors polished by servants paid in gold dust. Every family dinner doubles as a PR event, and no one knows if they love power or their mirrors more. Their sect motto might as well be:

“If it doesn’t sparkle, it doesn’t matter.”
Political scheming is their cardio. Their robes alone could pay off your sect’s debt.

Jin Zixuan - Sect Heir of Lanling Jin.

Mianmian (Luo Qingyang) - Future Right Hand (First Disciple) of the Sect Leader Jin

💜 The Jiang Clan of Yunmeng — “Emotions & Electrocutions”

A family powered by feelings, fish, and frequent yelling. Their sect rules are just suggestions, and their favorite group activity? Emotional damage. They’ll cry, fight, forgive, then cry again—usually in that order. Their motto:

“We’re fine. (They are not fine.)”
Everyone’s trauma-bonded, no one’s in therapy, and the lake’s seen things.

Jiang Cheng – Sect Heir of Yunmeng Jiang ⚡

Jiang Yanli – The eldest child of Jiang Sect Leader (Mistress Jiang), Betrothed to Jin Zixuan🌸

🔥 The Wen Clan of Qishan — “Pyromaniacs with a Mission Statement”

Ah yes, the Wens. If chaos were a business, they’d be the CEOs and the HR department. They believe in unity, discipline, and occasionally conquering entire regions before breakfast. Their sect colors are red because subtlety died when they were born. Their motto:

“Why talk it out when you can burn it down?”
Every conversation with them feels like a diplomatic hostage situation.

Wen Chao - The second-born of the Wen Sect Leader (Second young master of Wen)

Wen Zhuliu - Originally from Yuan Sect but is now a disciple in training for the Wen Clan. The Future second-in-command (First Disciple) of the Sect Leader Wen.

Wen Xu - Sect Heir of Qishan Wen

🪶 The Nie Clan of Qinghe — “Muscles, Morals, and Mild Mayhem”

Loud, proud, and allergic to subtlety. Their workout routine? Carrying entire sects on their backs. Their battle cries double as motivational speeches, and they believe emotions are best expressed through swords and volume. Their motto:

“If it moves, duel it. If it doesn’t, sharpen your blade anyway.”
They’re the only clan that can turn a tea ceremony into an arm-wrestling match.

Nie Ziqin - Future Female Head Disciple (Second Disciple) for the Sect Leader Nie

Nie Zonghui - Future Right Hand (First Disciple) of the Sect Leader Nie

Nie Huaisang - The second-born of the Nie Sect Leader (Second young master of Nie)

Nie Mingjue - Sect Heir of Qinghe Nie

🌙 The Lan Clan of Gusu — “Library Cult with a Flute Problem”

Ah, the Lans. Silent, serene, and just a little terrifying. They don’t raise their voices—they raise your anxiety. With over 3,000 rules (and counting), they’re the only sect where breathing too loudly is a punishable offense. Their motto:

“Speak softly, carry a zither, and repress your emotions.”
You think they’re peaceful, but they can passive-aggressively judge you into repentance.

 

Lan Xiaolian - Future Female Head Disciple (Second Disciple) of the Sect Leader Lan

 

Lan Yuxin - A medic in training at the Lan Clan

 

Lan Ruiwen - A prominent Disciple of the Lan Clan 

 

Lan Yichen- Future Right Hand (First Disciple) of the Sect Leader Lan

 

Lan Wangji - The second-born of the Lan Sect Leader (Second young master of Lan)

 

Lan Xichen - Sect Heir of Gusu Lan