Momentum

Nie Huaisang knew he wasn’t normal. 

It wasn’t a big deal, not really—it was just a fact like the color of his eyes or how Da-ge sounded when he was truly angry. 

He wasn’t sure when he realized he was different from his peers. Perhaps it was back when he was only a boy and confused about the way people acted around each other. Or perhaps it was when he watched Wen Ruohan’s face after Father’s accident. Or perhaps it was when it suddenly hit him that not everyone could see as he did. The patterns. The subtle lines of attraction and dependence that tied people together.

Perhaps it helped that he never felt the need to tangle himself in any of those lines. 

Da-ge used to be suspicious of him, trying to push him to cultivate more and interact with his peers but firstly, Nie Huaisang had absolutely zero interest in sliding into inevitable Qi-deviation, and secondly, his preferred method of interaction was watching. Da-ge didn’t understand but he didn’t relent with his nagging until Nie Huaisang saved his skin. He had to use small words and short sentences, explaining just how simple it was to dismantle the petty seduction plans some minor sect leader had tried to weave around him. They’d thought that enticing a barely adult sect leader with an omega on the brink of a heat would help them seize Qinghe Nie.

They misjudged Da-ge. And they grossly misjudged Nie Huaisang.

After the second time Nie Huaisang intercepted a seduction attempt—this time with omega twins, a male and female, they’d upped their game!—Da-ge punched his fist through a wall and asked what it would take for the idiots to drop their stupid attempts because he wasn’t and would never be interested. Nie Huaisang cocked his head and said, ”If you stop trying to push me to cultivate with my sabre, I’ll make sure no one will ever try to trap you again.”

Da-ge turned to him with narrowed eyes. ”Is that so?” He asked slowly.

Nie Huaisang fanned himself lazily and smiled. ”Da-ge. I know you. You hate the sect politics with burning passion and if it didn’t mean the ultimate ruin of our clan, you’d let the other sects squabble far, far away from you. So, how about this: you take care of the cultivation—and let me figure out a way to placate your sabre spirit—and I’ll take care of the sect politics?”

He was twelve when Da-ge rolled his eyes and dumped the sect on his lap. It was the most fun Nie Huaisang had had in a long, long while.

•••

He knew he would eventually go into heat but it wasn’t something he looked forward to. It was another inevitability he had to suffer through and he did it with a slightly disgusted feeling and a shudder of relief when it was finally over. On a clinical level, he could understand why some people would find heats (and ruts) fascinating because they did a number on the body and addled the mind but when it came to himself…he’d rather not. Observing how people acted around him before and after his heat added a layer to the intricate web of social structures he’d been building in his mind forever and he tucked the information away for later analysis.

”Will you force me to take a mate?” He asked Da-ge one day. He was going through a series of gruelling exercises that left his chest heaving and bare upper body glistening with sweat and Nie Huaisang noted with a detached curiosity how there always seemed to be more people around when Da-ge was running through his drills. 

”Why the hell would I do that?” Da-ge grunted.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. ”Because that’s what I’m supposed to do?”

Da-ge finished his lunge short and turned to give him a flat look. ”And when have you—or I—ever done what we’re supposed to do, hm?”

”Well, yes, but I wanted to make sure.”

”Huaisang,” Da-ge said with a long-suffering sigh. ”I think we both know by now that you do whatever you want and I can either go along with it or be forced to go along with it.”

He narrowed his eyes. ”Do you think you’re being funny?”

”I’m hilarious,” Da-ge deadpanned and went back to his training.

•••

The Cloud Recesses was interesting even though it was also way too much work. But Nie Huaisang met interesting people and was utterly fascinated by the slow-motion disaster that was Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji dancing around each other. The lines that wrapped around them were the thickest he’d ever seen and it felt ridiculous that none of the others saw it. They were meant to be together! Why didn’t they see it? Idiots!

The result was catastrophic, of course, but Nie Huaisang salvaged what he could, crafting solid friendships with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli both. In Wei Wuxian, he saw a kindred spirit: he might not be as powerful a cultivator as Wei Wuxian but their omega sides were almost as strong. He tucked the information into yet another storage in his mind, sure he’d need it later. Which he did, first when he realized something strange was going on in Southeast (which gave him a perfectly good reason to contact Madam Yu) and later when one of his contacts let him know of a strange brothel arson. 

Finding Meng Yao was an absolute delight and strong-arming Madam Yu to let him in on her plans made his year.

•••

”Da-ge, I think you should bed Jiang Wanyin,” he said one morning, narrowing his eyes at the way the sun hung low over the peaks of Nightless City, painting the whole scenery red. It was frankly disturbing and Nie Huaisang couldn’t wait to get home.

Da-ge choked on his tea. ”What the fuck, Huaisang?” He growled.

Nie Huaisang tilted his head and gave him a side-eyed look. ”You’re cranky. It’s been a while and you’re moping.”

”I’m not.”

”Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. ”You’ve been low-key moping since Xichen-ge got together with A-Yao. I warned you about it but you didn’t want to listen to me.” He took in Da-ge’s mulish look and sighed. ”I don’t know what happened—” (a blatant lie) ”—but it would’ve never worked out between you two and you know that,” he said gently. ”With Jiang Wanyin, though…”

”I’m not going to mate Sect Leader Jiang,” Da-ge hissed.

Nie Huaisang clicked his tongue. ”I said ’bed’, not ’mate’. There’s a difference.”

”What makes you think he’d even want to,” Da-ge muttered and scowled into his empty tea cup.

Nie Huaisang gave him an exasperated look. ”When have I ever been wrong? Look… just ask him. He’s exactly your type.”

Da-ge looked a bit to the side. It was a tell and they both knew he let Nie Huaisang see it. ”And what’s his type?”

”Honestly? I think his sexual orientation is just plain aggression. You fit his preferences perfectly.” He stood up and rounded the table to stand next to Da-ge. ”I’m heading home in a couple of days. It would ease my mind if I knew there was someone you can turn to. Blow off steam, blow something else, I don’t care. But I think it would be good for you—and for him.” He paused and added, quietly, ”I worry about you. I know you don’t miss a mate but you do miss the basic human connection.”

”I have you,” Mingjue grumbled.

Huaisang gave him a withering look. ”You do know what some people say about us? How about we don’t give more wind to the gossip.”

”I’ll think about it,” Da-ge grumbled and then elbowed him to the side. ”Was that all? I have things to do.”

”That was all,” he said and watched with a small smile as Da-ge stood up and stomped out of the room.

Good. At least that was settled.

Now, what to do with this annoying pest problem slowly brewing in the Southeast?

Recovery is boring.

Yes, Wei Wuxian knows he needs to be patient and wait and all that but…he’s so bored!

The Cloud Recesses looks almost the same as it did before the Wen occupation with a couple of differences. The Library Pavillion has been expanded and warded even more extensively than it had been before, some buildings still have singed roofs and blackened porches, and there’s an insistent red hue on the white sand of the main training field that doesn’t want to turn white no matter what cleansing rituals the esteemed Lan cultivators perform. Apparently, too much blood can stain even the Cloud Recesses’ purity.

Wei Wuxian finds this strangely poetic.

They’ve been back for a full moon and he’s bored out of his mind. 

Wen Qing would roll her eyes and snap, ”Have you done your exercises for today? No? Then shoo! Get lost and let me work in peace.” Wen Ning would offer him an awkward bow and ask if there was anything Young Master Wei would require. Lan Zhan would—well, Lan Zhan would either bathe him into bliss or reduce him to a moaning puddle, neither of which is a bad thing but not what Wei Wuxian wants right now. 

He wants to do something.

Too bad his body doesn’t.

He bares his teeth in a silent snarl and scowls at the serene landscape surrounding the Jingshi. It’s so…beautiful. And peaceful. And boring. He wants to do something to shake up the peace, to wake the Cloud Recesses up from its slumber, to blow a bit of life into it. Logically, he knows there’s a reason for the peace and quiet—it’s not like the Cloud Recesses hasn’t been through almost as much as the other sects and it’s now slowly recovering.

There’s also the chance that he might be projecting a bit. 

He lets out a sigh and carefully tilts his head back to lift his face to the late afternoon sun. It’s not that he doesn’t have things to do. He does: He has a ton of talisman work to do and he needs to figure out a way to adapt his meditation technique into something the Nie could use. On top of that, Wen Qing and the Lan head healer have cooked up a rehabilitation schedule for him and it’s demanding. Problem is that while he understands the necessity, there are aspects he shies away from. 

The stretching is good. He starts his morning by stretching, often with Lan Zhan watching over him. It had felt embarrassing at first, showing all the ways he isn’t yet familiar with his body, but the embarrassment dropped as soon as it truly hit home that Lan Zhan didn’t expect anything from him. He sits in the room, often meditating as Wei Wuxian stretches, but even more often he plays his guqin, and the soft music helps Wei Wuxian to concentrate.

The food is bland but then again, everything is bland after Shijie’s cooking. It’s not as bland as he remembers, though, because apparently, Lan Zhan has stocked up spices and sprinkles a careful amount of chilli flakes and sharp, strong Yunmeng herbs on his food to make it more appealing. It doesn’t fix the fact that the food is inherently boring but it helps.

Meditating has always been a bit of a challenge for him but he feels he perfected it back in Qishan. And that’s where the problem lies. He knows he should try to concentrate on the meditation the way Wen Qing told him to but his mind tries both to lean to and shy away from the familiar path of purging the resentful energy from his core. It would be so easy to follow that path because he knows every nook and cranny—but at the same time he balks, his mind scrambling to get away. It reminds him too much of the way the resentful energy circled around his core, how the sticky, slick tendrils attached themselves to him, pressed close, and stayed behind even after all the work he did to get rid of them. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about it now, not with Lan Zhan here to anchor him but he can’t help it.

And that doesn’t even count all the ways his core doesn’t feel like his anymore. 

It doesn’t help that his mind is so restless. He can almost taste that something is coming, something he should be ready for, and his inability to take action makes him anxious. He needs something to focus his mind on and at the moment, he has a resounding nothing.

”Still restless?”

Meng Yao’s voice snaps him from his spiralling thoughts and he cracks open an eye.

”I could smell you from around the corner,” Meng Yao says with a wry smile. ”So I decided to stop by and tell you to stop stressing out.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. ”Easier said than done,” he says.

Meng Yao cocks his head, gives him a calculating look. ”What do you need?”

”Let’s start with mobility,” he huffs and motions at his body. ”I want my body back!” The movement triggers a spasm and he hisses against the pain that flares white-hot down his spine. 

”Hm,” Meng Yao says and moves to place his palm in the middle of his back. He doesn’t do anything but the warm pressure helps with regulating his breathing and getting the pain under control again. 

After a moment, Wei Wuxian lets out a small breath. ”Exactly what I meant,” he mutters.

”The fact is, this is the body you have,” Meng Yao says calmly. ”One might argue that you’re lucky to even have a body at all, after everything you did to your original body, but one also knows there’s no point.”

”One could always just shut up.”

”True,” Meng Yao smiles serenely. ”But where’s the fun in that?”

”Har-fucking-har,” Wei Wuxian says and closes his eyes.

He’s tired. Tired of waiting, tired of the pain, tired of this weird limbo he’s in. And he’s tired of feeling like this because he knows he doesn’t have the right. So many others have been through worse than him. He came back from the dead, he has a doting, devoted alpha, what the fuck is he complaining about?

”How do you stand this?” He asks after a moment. ”How isn’t this place slowly suffocating you?”

Meng Yao hums. He smoothes his hand a couple of times along Wei Wuxian’s spine and then the pressure vanishes. It’s typical—Men Yao doesn’t usually touch anyone else but Xichen and A-Yuan but surprisingly often he makes an exception for Wei Wuxian.

”First of all, you should remember that our backgrounds are as different as our temperaments: your cultivation is—or at least was—as high as Wangji’s and when manipulating resentful energy, you were the strongest cultivator alive. You’re used to action, to jump the chance to do something. You’ve always been ready and able to move yourself and as far as I know, after Yunmeng Jiang took you in, you’ve never had to truly fend for yourself, to push you beyond your limits.

”Me, though? I’ve never been strong. I can’t use a sword and my cultivation is way below adequate. I’ve had to trust my mind to keep up and stay alive. I’m used to waiting and thinking.” He huffs softly. ”After my mother died, I waited for a long time to pay back for how the Madam had treated her. And I waited even longer to get revenge on my Sire for what he did to my mother and me.”

Meng Yao falls silent for so long that Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and looks at him. He has a soft smile on his lips and he looks content.

”I like it here,” he says softly. ”Everything has a place and there’s order. I know how things work and I can plan ahead for years if I want to. It’s…” he pauses for a moment and then says, ”Clean. It’s clean.”

Wei Wuxian shudders. 

”Yes, I know,” Meng Yao says, amused. ”Your mind is a swirl of barely controlled chaos, mine is neat and orderly. You thrive in unpredictability that keeps you on your toes, I find that mostly stressing.”

”So… if I’m chaos and you’re order, what does that make of Huaisang?”

Meng Yao tilts his head. ”A hall of mirrors,” he says after a moment. ”And he’s the only one who knows which image is a reflection and which is real.”

It’s a scarily accurate depiction of their…friend? Collaborator? Co-conspirator? Wei Wuxian decides he likes ’friend’ the most.

”You need a hobby,” Meng Yao says decisively. He stands up, dusts his immaculate robes, and holds out a hand to help him up. ”Walk with me.”

”Where?” Wei Wuxian asks. Hobby sounds nice but he isn’t sure if he’s up to walking.

”To the treasury,” Meng Yao says. He still keeps his hand out, clearly expecting Wei Wuxian to take it. 

He sighs and complies. 

They walk slowly but somehow, Meng Yao makes it seem like he’s the one who chooses to go slowly instead of accommodating Wei Wuxian’s slower speed. Today is a bad day which means he has to move himself carefully in case his body decides to fold underneath him. It’s never fun but at least when it happens in the privacy of the Jingshi, the only people witnessing his embarrassing keeling over are himself and Lan Zhan.

Meng Yao’s words catch up with him a bit late. ”Wait, the treasury?”

”Yes,” Meng Yao says. He walks with his head held high and his hands demurely held in front of him. He offers small, polite smiles and nods at the Lan cultivators and disciples who pass them, remembers all their names, and asks genuine questions about their lives and whatever they’ve been working on lately. Even though Wei Wuxian knows how Meng Yao’s mind work, it never fails to bewilder him. How can one man’s brain hold so much information? Wei Wuxian has a hard time keeping up with the names and faces of the few people he interacts with on a daily basis and it makes his head hurt to even begin to think about all the knowledge neatly stored behind Meng Yao’s polite smile.

”Why are we going to the treasury?” He asks to distract himself from the slowly pulsing ache in his legs.

Meng Yao smiles and ducks his head. ”The late Lan-furen’s journal,” he says quietly.

Wei Wuxian stops. ”The reason you insisted I come here instead of going to Lotus Pier,” he says slowly.

”Yes.”

”It better be worth it,” he mutters and starts forward again. The short stop was enough to lock something up and his steps send small shocks of pain up his spine. Joy.

”I wouldn’t know,” Meng Yao says mildly. ”It’s heavily warded. I haven’t even dared to touch it.”

”Probably a wise decision,” Wei Wuxian agrees.

The treasury is placed a bit to the side, guarded and warded, but the guards merely greet them and stand aside to let them inside. Wei Wuxian briefly wonders if it’s because they are the highest-ranking cultivators of the whole clan, outclassed only by their mates. In theory, they need permission from the Elders to enter but in reality, no one would dare question their right to step inside.

Wei Wuxian hasn’t been in the treasury before, simply because it holds nothing he finds interesting. As far as he’s concerned, Gusu Lan’s greatest treasure is the knowledge stored in the Forbidden section of the Library. The treasury holds a rather small amount of objects: stuff like money (which he doesn’t care about since Lan Zhan carries all the money he’d ever need), ceremonial robes, and family heirlooms such as a golden tea set that’s both highly impractical and unbelievably ugly for a Lan object. 

And the journal of Lan Zhan and Xichen’s mother.

Wei Wuxian lets out a small huff of breath as he enters. He can feel the power emanating from the journal across the room and it draws him in. He walks unerringly to it and holds his hands behind his back as he carefully bends down a little to get a better look at the spells embedded in the leather and the cord binding the journal into a tight package. The spiritual energy it radiates feels familiar and when he sees the small symbol carved into the corner of the cover, he smiles. Ah, of course, he thinks tracing his finger above the symbol he’d last seen on old Teacher Yu’s manuscripts. Why am I not surprised that she was also trained in Meishan?

Out of pure curiosity, he quickly draws a symbol on the air and activates it. It flares bright red for a moment and then sinks into the journal, leaving behind a slowly fading glow. 

”So, you recognized me?” He murmurs and cocks his head. ”Will you let me pick you up?” His hand hovers above the journal for a moment and then he gives a mental shrug and picks it up. 

”Wait!—”

Instantly, a flash of power surges through him, making him gasp and grit his teeth. It burns through his veins and courses along his meridians like wildfire, hungry and ferocious, and all he can do is hold on for the ride. Without even realizing, he falls on his knees and the pain of his knees hitting the floor is a blurry sensation in the back of his mind, barely noticeable through the scalding heat under his skin.

There’s a presence in his mind, pressing down on him, demanding to be let in. He recognizes it as a part of the wards protecting the journal and relaxes his control. He never practiced this during his stay in Meishan but he remembers Teacher Yu talking about the extreme measures one could take to protect something of infinite value. He pushes his headache back and fights down his nausea and starts to go through the meditation technique Teacher Yu drilled into him. 

It helps. The presence pauses and then its focus turns to Wei Wuxian’s experiences in Meishan. It scrolls through his memories almost like it’s checking if he is who he claims he is and stops at the memory of Teacher Yu explaining the basics of the Order for the first time.

It shudders and then it melts away, leaving Wei Wuxian reeling and light-headed. And, apparently, in a heap on the floor.

”—Xian? Are you with me?”

”Bhuh,” he says.

”Well, that’s a relief. Don’t move.”

”Yeah,” he slurs. 

And then he passes out.

”So, which part of the Do not over-exert yourself you didn’t understand?”

Wei Wuxian blinks and frowns. He’s on his back, staring at a white ceiling that’s not the Jingshi’s ceiling.

”Wha—”

Lan Zhan appears in Wei Wuxian’s field of vision, his eyes burning with an intense emotion Wei Wuxian can’t quite name. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at him and it makes him uncomfortable.

”Hi,” he says with a small grin.

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says in a low, tight voice. 

”It’s not that bad?”

”And how would you know?” Wen Qing snaps from the other side of the bed and he turns his head slowly to check if she’s just angry or absolutely furious. ”You’ve been unconscious for a day, conveniently missing out on the arguing and worrying. You idiot,” she finishes with a hiss. 

Ah. She’s well beyond furious. Oops?

He turns his head and searches for Lan Zhan’s eyes but the alpha avoids his gaze. His scent says nothing, tightly controlled and held close, letting out only the steady smell of worry. ”Lan Zhan?” He asks and the only thing he gets in return is the clench of his alpha’s hand holding his.

”Care to explain yourself?” Wen Qing says in that same, pissed-off tone. ”What the hell did you think you were doing?”

”Meng Yao—” 

”Meng Yao didn’t make you touch a fucking cursed object!” Wen Qing snarls.

”I—I just wanted to know…”

Wen Qing stares at him for a long moment and then shakes her head. ”Yeah. That’s the problem. You just wanted to know and instead of dealing with it like an actual adult, you went and triggered a curse that nearly killed you. Well done, Wei Wuxian.” She lets out a long breath through her nose and stomps out of the room, slamming the doors closed behind her.

”Um,” he says and blinks and turns toward Lan Zhan again. Lan Zhan, who is still not meeting his eyes. ”Lan Zhan?”

”Are you unhappy here?” Lan Zhan asks quietly.

”What?”

”Do you wish to be somewhere else?”

”Lan Zhan, what are you talking about?”

Lan Zhan’s throat works and then he slowly, finally raises his gaze to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes. The anguish in them takes his breath away. 

”Are you trapped here?”

”No!” He exclaims. ”I don’t—what—come here!” He reaches out a hand and yanks at Lan Zhan’s robe, annoyed when his alpha doesn’t immediately comply. He whines out of sheer frustration but stops when Lan Zhan clears his throat and points at his lap.

Oh. 

He’s still clutching the journal against his stomach with his other hand, his grip so tight his knuckles are white. He frowns and pokes gently at it and feels absolutely nothing. ”It’s not active,” he says.

Lan Zhan doesn’t comment, he merely raises a finger and carefully brings it closer. He’s barely a hands-breadth away from the journal’s surface when Wei Wuxian feels its power amp up again.

”Oh,” he says. ”I guess it only recognizes me, then? Huh.” Without further ado, he moves his hand and lets the journal drop to the floor. It has survived way over a decade, it will survive a small drop like that.

As soon as the journal leaves his lap, Lan Zhan climbs into the narrow bed with him, pressing himself against Wei Wuxian’s side from shoulder to toe, and burying his face in the hollow of Wei Wuxian’s throat.

”Wei Ying, I will take you anywhere,” Lan Zhan whispers against his skin. ”Just…don’t leave. Not again.”

”I’m not leaving,” he says. He means to sound soothing but he’s pretty sure he just sounds freaked out instead. ”I’m sorry, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply. He holds on to him and trembles slightly.

He must’ve fallen asleep because the next time he opens his eyes, the light in the room is the golden hue of sunset. Lan Zhan is still plastered against his side, breathing deeply. The worry has dissipated from his scent, leaving behind a thick layer of exhaustion and sadness. It’s a combination Wei Wuxian fervently wishes he never has to smell again.

”I wish you thought things through,” Meng Yao says from the door. ”At least every once in a while.”  He sighs and walks in, raises a brow at the journal on the floor, and gives it a wide berth. ”Why on earth did you think picking up the journal like that was a good idea?”

He tries to shrug but it doesn’t really work, what with him being on his back and Lan Zhan partially on top of him. ”I just wanted to know.”

”Don’t do that again,” Meng Yao says. ”And before you hurry to agree, let me spell it out for you. You aren’t alone anymore. It doesn’t matter that you and Wangji aren’t official yet, everyone recognizes you as the mate of the Second Jade of Lan. You are the fourth most influential person in this sect. You have a young ward. You can’t act rashly like that again, not when you have other options.” He falls silent for a moment and looks down at his lap. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. 

”You walked straight to the most heavily warded object in the whole Cloud Recesses, went completely blank, picked it up, and then collapsed. You were barely breathing and you didn’t react to anything, not that I could do much because of my low cultivation. I had to watch you bleeding from your qiqiao as Uncle barged in and started pouring spiritual energy into you. I had to stand back and watch your mate and my mate worry about you and I could do nothing.

”Apart from A-Huan and Wangji, you are the only one in Gusu who doesn’t give a damn about my past. Can you imagine how it felt to watch you lie there, unconscious and unresponsive, and think I’d caused the death of my only friend in this place?”

”I—” Wei Wuxian starts and then stops as his throat closes up. He swallows and says, ”I’m sorry.”

”I know you are,” Meng Yao says with a small, self-deprecating smile. ”And I know how hard it is to believe that the people around you care about you because of who you are, not what you are or what you can do. But you have so many people around you who care about you far more than you can even imagine.”

”So do you.”

Meng Yao tilts his head. ”Well, perhaps we just have to keep reminding each other.”

”Perhaps.”

”And A-Xian?” Meng Yao says, sobering up. ”Talk to your mate. You both assume things based on inadequate information and the results can be catastrophic. We simply can’t afford that.”

Wei Wuxian lets out an annoyed sound. ”How did you become so wise?”

”I learned the hard way,” Meng Yao says. He hesitates a moment and then presses his hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. ”Get better soon. You are needed and not only for your skills. You are needed just as you.”

Wei Wuxian swallows and nods, and says nothing as Meng Yao walks out of the room.

The thing with recovery is that it’s boring and it grates on one’s nerves and it takes forever. For Wei Wuxian, it was an extended exercise (torture) in feeling useless and it makes him antsy. The uneasy restlessness under his skin feels like ants crawling around his body, burrowing into his pores and biting at everything on their way and it makes him twitch and snap and snarl. 

He knows recovery takes time. Knowing doesn’t diminish the awfulness of it, though.

And now that he fucked up, his recovery will take even longer and the only one he can be angry at is himself.

Turns out, no one else can touch the journal but him so, when Wen Qing finally lets him return to Jingshi, Wei Wuxian needs to pick it up from the floor and place it in a warded qiankun pouch. It settles there, feeling slightly mollified, but since it doesn’t try to lash out at Lan Zhan carrying him, Wei Wuxian counts it as a win.

”Don’t even think about opening it,” Wen Qing hisses at him, standing in front of the door. ”Because if you do, I’ll seal up your core for the unforeseeable future and place a long-term muting spell on you. This is not a joke, Wei Wuxian! What you did almost ripped your core apart because neither it nor you are properly healed yet.” She stares at him for a long moment, fury and desperation in her eyes, and then finally steps aside to let them pass. 

”I’m sorry, A-Qing,” he says.

”Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she snaps. ”Don’t do that again.”

Their walk back to the Jingshi is quiet. Lan Zhan’s face is stoic and Wei Wuxian is mentally too exhausted to try to decipher what little scent leaks through his control. He rests his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and closes his eyes with a sigh. 

He’d like to take a break.

To take a break from the flashes of pain that always manage to take him by surprise. To take a break from the anxious energy bubbling inside of him without a reliable let-out. But most of all, he’d like to take a break from the thoughts that keep spinning around his mind on a constant cycle that doesn’t let him sleep.

Yeah. That would be nice. 

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says quietly. ”We’re home.”

He lets out a sigh and rubs a hand over his face. ”Okay,” he says. ”Put me on the bed and sit down. We need to talk.”

Lan Zhan’s hands twitch which means he tried and failed to suppress a flinch and it makes Wei Wuxian hate himself a bit more. ”I didn’t mean it like that—uh. I hate this.” He pushes the qiankun pouch under the bed and rests his hands on his lap. Lan Zhan sits next to him, careful not to crowd him. It’s terrible.

”Nope, I’m not doing it like this. Lay down, Lan Zhan, please.” When Lan Zhan hesitates, Wei Wuxia reaches out for his hand and kisses his knuckles. His hands are cold. ”I want to lay down in your arms. Where I belong,” Wei Wuxian says quietly. ”Please, Lan Zhan.”

When they’re settled, he gently pries Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon off and makes a face at the tightly wound-up scent it reveals. It’s a mess of longing, love, resignation, and worry and it makes his nose itch. ”Let me make something abundantly clear, Lan Zhan: I’m not trapped here. I don’t want to be anywhere but where you are.” He presses his nose against the soft skin under Lan Zhan’s jaw and breathes deeply in Lan Zhan’s scent which turns warmer and happier with every beat of his heart.

”I hate the way I am right now,” he whispers against Lan Zhan’s skin some while later, keeping his eyes closed as if it would make his confession any easier to force out. ”I hate the way I feel, I hate the way I can’t function normally. I hate to feel useless and a burden.”

”You are not useless,” Lan Zhan interrupts in a low, vehement voice. ”And never a burden.”

He sighs. ”I know that. But…knowing it doesn’t make the feeling go away?”

Lan Zhan’s hand is heavy and familiar against the small of his back, holding him steady and grounded. ”I wanted to do something.”

”But you do so much.”

”It doesn’t feel like anything!” He exclaims and to his mortification, realizes his eyes fill with tears. ”I feel like I’m just shuffling along, barely making it through the day, and I hate it,” he gasps and lets the tears fall. ”I can’t even be a proper mate and I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!”

”You are a proper mate,” Lan Zhan says. ”There is no other option.”

”Yeah,” he snorts wetly. ”I’ve roped you into a relationship where we probably can’t even bond because I was stupid and broke myself.” He swallows. ”And I most likely can’t even carry,” he continues bitterly.

Lan Zhan lets out a growl and moves him so that he can glare at him. ”My mate is perfect the way he is,” he says with finality. ”Wei Ying shouldn’t say such things about my mate.” He cradles Wei Wuxian’s face in his large hands and brushes away the tears from his cheek. ”And carrying is not an issue. Never was.”

”But I can’t give you children,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Zhan’s eyes go impossibly tender. ”You already did,” he says. ”You gave me A-Yuan.”

”Lan Zhan, he isn’t ours! Not really.”

Lan Zhan tilts his head. ”He could be. He will be, if you want.”

That makes him pause. ”Wait—really? Adoption?” When Lan Zhan nods, he ducks his face back into the crook of his alpha’s neck because he feels like he has to hide his face from—really? Wen Qing would—but why would she? Wei Wuxian has just demonstrated how irresponsible he can be. 

”I already talked to Wen Qing,” Lan Zhan murmurs as his hands resume the slow stroking along his back. ”She said yes—on one condition.”

”Don’t be an idiot?” He says wetly.

Lan Zhan’s chest rumbles as he lets out a small laugh. ”Mn.”

It doesn’t magically make everything better but still, Wei Wuxian feels slightly lighter as he finally drifts off to exhausted sleep.

Sword practice is a no-go, even with a light practice sword. But he misses the familiar, flowing style of the Jiang sword forms and starts slowly going through the basic exercises without a sword. It feels a bit stupid but it’s the thought behind the movements that counts, not what he’s holding in his hand. He moves his body slowly, carefully, avoids all sudden moves and jumps, and shifts from one form to the next with calculated precision. It probably looks more like a weird slow dance than sword forms but he doesn’t care. The familiar poses help to quiet his mind, working way better than meditation.

The clearing next to the Jingshi is perfect for his needs: small, shielded, outside. He won’t be visible unless someone deliberately comes to see him but he has more space than inside—Lan Zhan’s tastes in decoration might be sparse and practical but there’s still too much stuff on the way for Wei Wuxian to feel fully comfortable with.

A couple of days into his new routine, he becomes aware of someone watching him. It’s a prickling feeling in the back of his neck, not hostile, but not exactly friendly, either. Carefully, he extends his senses and reaches out for the presence and then nearly stumbles as he realizes it’s Lan Qiren. 

Perhaps he’ll leave if Wei Wuxian just keeps with his practice? Or perhaps he could just try to push the old man away? Lan Qiren is a beta, his ability to detect scents in general is significantly weaker than those of alphas and omegas. He frowns slightly and concentrates on the transition between the fifth and sixth forms. It’s tricky because he needs to move his whole body and twist and that’s always a delightful gamble that can just as easily end up in a perfect form or a whole-body muscle spasm. This time, he manages without too much pain and lets a grin on his face as he holds the sixth form longer than he’s so far been able to do.

He brings his body back to the resting form and goes through a series of light exercises before opening his eyes, and sees that Lan Qiren is no longer there.

Wei Wuxian shrugs and pushes the incident out of his mind.

A couple of days later, Lan Qiren is back and this time, he stands in the shadow of the Jingshi and waits until Wei Wuxian is done with his routine and turns to face him.

”Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren says and inclines his head in the way that for him, passes for a bow. 

”Teacher Lan,” Wei Wuxian replies and gives him a careful, controlled bow, grateful when his body cooperates.

Lan Qiren is silent for a long time and watches him with sharp eyes and a small scowl. Wei Wuxian honestly doesn’t know what he’s done this time unless his mere presence counts as an offence—which it probably does. Lan Qiren would most likely be happiest if he could seal him in a small room and throw away the key.

Lan Qiren’s lips press into a tight line for a moment and then he squares his shoulders and walks to Wei Wuxian with measured, unhurried steps, holding his hands behind his back. He stops in front of Wei Wuxian and whips his other hand out and Wei Wuxian can’t curb his instinctual flinch back.

Lan Qiren freezes, eyes wide and horrified.

There’s a cane in his hand. 

A cane he’s…extremely carefully holding out for Wei Wuxian?

”My apologies,” Lan Qiren says stiffly. ”I should’ve—” He pauses and takes a breath, clearly starting over. ”I’ve noticed you’re practicing sword forms but you carry no sword. I was told it’s because you and Doctor Wen are being mindful of your…injuries and exert extreme caution. However, practicing sword forms without a proper tool to guide and direct the movement might not yield the best possible result.” The hand holding the cane twitches. ”Hence, this cane. It’s infused with spells that make it feel almost weightless while keeping it durable and practically unbreakable. It shouldn’t have an adverse effect on your practice.” He clears his throat and adds, ”I have cleared this with Doctor Wen.”

”Um,” Wei Wuxian says, staring at Lan Qiren with wide eyes. ”Thanks?”

”Mn,” Lan Qiren says and manages to exude impatience while staying completely still.

Wei Wuxian swallows and picks up the cane. The surface is silky smooth and feels warm to the touch and seems almost to hum when he moves it through a couple of experimental forms. The difference is immediate and he lets out a small laugh as the transitions feel easier and his forms hold steadier.

”Thank you, Teacher L—” he starts but as he looks up, he realizes he’s alone again.

Lan Zhan raises a brow when he sees the cane and narrows his eyes when he hears who brought it but he gives his grudging acceptance anyway. (Wei Wuxian doesn’t bring up his instinctual flinch the moment he thought Lan Qiren was going to hit him. After all, killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.)

He’s making his way to the Library when Zhiqiang flies right to him with an urgency he hasn’t seen in a long, long while. The Dire Owl circles above his head a couple of times, letting out anxious hoots that sound like scraping a sharp stone over glass.

”What’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian asks and carefully sits on the steps of the nearest building. ”Come on, talk to me.”

Zhiqiang swoops down and lands on his knee, and then hiss-gurgles as he shifts from one foot to the other, trying to find his balance. He holds out his hand and urges the Dire Owl to hop to perch on his wrist like he used to do and then raises his arm so that they’re at eye level.

It’s been a while since Zhiqiang last showed him something but he falls into the connection with easy familiarity. At one moment, he’s sitting in the shade in the Cloud Recesses, the next moment he’s flying high, soaring through the sky and feeling freer than he’s felt in months.

The land below him is a mismatched collection of colored patches, greens and blues and browns with splatters of brighter colors here and there. He sees towns and villages, people as small as ants scurrying around in groups and lines, leading their lives without any idea they’re being watched from above. At some point, an eagle glides to fly next to him and he gets to meet the fierce, unyielding stare of the ruler of the skies.

Then he swoops down, spreads his wings as wide as he’s able, and lets the current carry him forward. There’s a strange pulling somewhere in front of him, tugging him closer and he sees no reason not to follow it. He finds a path that slowly grows wider and moves side by side with a river like they’re old friends—which they probably are. The path turns into a road and the river bides its friend goodbye as it turns left, leaving the road to go on alone.

At some point, he sees people on the road. Oxcarts, horses, humans big and small, going on their business as usual. They don’t interest him because the tugging is still there, guiding him forward so he flies on and on and on, passing villages and towns, crossing rivers and meadows and forests.

And then.

Three people.

One in black. One in white. And one in purple.

The one in white has a white cloth covering their eyes but they raise their head sharply, looking unerringly straight at him. They say something to the one in black who swirls around, spreads their other arm in front of the other two like they’re trying to shield them while drawing a talisman in the air. 

The air vibrates with the power of the spell and he’s thrown back with tremendous force.

The last thing he sees before his form scatters is the white eyes of the one in purple.

Wei Wuxian comes back to himself with a gasp, his heart hammering in his chest and he slumps slightly forward, catching himself on his knees. Zhiqiang avoids being smacked by hopping slightly in the air and landing on his shoulder, the sharp talons a familiar, grounding feeling prickling his skin.

”Young Master Wei?” 

He raises his head slightly and meets Lan Bolin’s sharp, worried eyes. The alpha is kneeling in front of him and keeping his scent and posture carefully under control.

”What do you need?” Lan Bolin asks.

”I—paper, brush…” He swallows and closes his eyes for a moment, committing to memory the trio from the vision. ”Where’s Lan Zhan?”

”Hanguang-jun is in the library, Young Master Wei,” Lan Bolin says. ”I already sent a disciple because I didn’t think you would feel well enough to walk.”

”Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks, feeling slightly sorry for whoever young disciple was tasked with the message.

Lan Bolin offers him a handkerchief and says, ”Your nose is bleeding.”

”Ah.” He wipes his nose and then slowly, carefully stands up. The world sways a bit but not excessively so but he’s pretty sure he’ll end up flat on his face if he tries to walk on his own. ”…about the walking,” he says and offers a sheepish shrug.

”Absolutely not,” Lan Bolin says, hovering in the way that says he would scoop him up but refrains because he’s a gentleman and Wei Wuxian is Hanguang-jun’s omega. 

”Aiyah, fine. I’ll wait,” he says and closes his eyes, fighting back a swell of nausea.

A short moment later, Lan Zhan’s worry curls around him, and when he opens his eyes, he sees his alpha hurrying to him at a pace that could almost be called a run and Lan Bolin stepping aside.

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says as he kneels in front of him and cups his cheek. ”What happened?”

”Zhiqiang had something to tell me,” he says, nodding at the Dire Owl who’s currently perching on a slightly bemused Lan Bolin’s shoulder.

”Oh,” Lan Zhan says.

Lan Bolin bows. ”I sent for Hanguang-jun because it wouldn’t have been safe for Young Master Wei to walk by himself.” 

”You made the right decision,” Lan Zhan says, his attention still on Wei Wuxian. ”Thank you.”

”Does a cultivator pair dressed in white and black mean anything to you?” Wei Wuxian asks and then huffs a laugh when Lan Bolin tries and fails to not give a pointed look at their clothes. ”I mean, other than Lan Zhan and I, of course. The one in white had a white cloth covering their eyes—I think they’re blind?”

”Did either of them carry a whisk?” Lan Bolin asks. 

Wei Wuxian nods. ”Yeah, both of them.”

”That would most likely be Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen,” Lan Zhan says with a slight frown.

”And they had a kid with them. A girl,” he says. ”And her eyes…if I saw correctly—or, you know, Zhiqiang saw correctly—her eyes were white.”

Lan Zhan and Lan Bolin share a glance.

”Why would they travel with a blind girl?” Lan Bolin murmured.

”Uh, who are they?” Wei Wuxian asked. He feels like he should know but his brain is a bit foggy right now.

”Rogue cultivators,” Lan Zhan says. ”They are young but they have already gained a reputation as humble and righteous men.” He pauses for a moment and then adds, ”And if the rumors are true, Xiao Xingchen was Baoshan Sanren’s disciple.”

”Baosh—” Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. ”Really?”

”Mn.”

That sounds like a coincidence but Wei Wuxian has long since stopped believing in coincidences. He bites his lip and taps the fingers of his right hand against his knee in a frenzied pattern as he thinks. 

”I think I need to write a letter,” he finally says. ”It’s been a while since Huaisang visited the Cloud Recesses.”

Mingjue was more than aware of what people thought about him. Brutish, aggressive, slightly slow, uninterested in anything but fighting.

People weren’t wrong but they weren’t right, either.

Thing was, Mingjue knew himself. He was self-aware to understand his predicament and where his life would be leading from the moment he picked up Baxia. Cultivating the sabre spirits led to inevitable Qi-deviation and violent death, which was the path for the Nie cultivators. If making the world a safer place demanded the price of his sanity and life, then that was what he would pay.

It changed a bit when Huaisang grew older and he realized just how vastly different his baby brother was from anyone else. Sure, Mingjue was biased because Huaisang was his baby brother but the way his mind worked and the way he effortlessly spun the lives of everyone around him…Mingjue got a headache from it all so he preferred not to think about that.

The people who thought Nie Mingjue was slow and aggressive also thought Huaisang was soft and innocent. People were very, very wrong but that was their shame.

Perhaps it was a blessing that Mingjue had never had the urge to find a mate. Technically it was required of him but as Huaisang had kept his promise to keep the predatory matchmakers from his back since he practically took over the sect at the tender age of twelve, Mingjue didn’t feel the need to panic. By now, he knew that if he actually needed to find a mate, he’d rather trust the task with Huaisang. He didn’t want to share his life with a stranger and he wanted to relinquish his or Huaisang’s control over the sect to a stranger even less. They worked well like this, even though Huaisang could be absolutely infuriating at times—mostly because he tended to be right.

Like now.

Mingjue leaned on the column and watched Sect Leader Jiang run through the drills in one of the Nightless City’s main training yards. Yunmeng Jiang disciples formed a ring around him, attacking from all sides, and Jiang Wanyin parried each strike with his sheathed sword while Zidian danced around him like a lover—

—Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

Mingjue huffed a sigh and scowled. 

Oh, he knew exactly where that thought came from: it came from Jiang Wanyin’s lithe form that always seemed to be coiled with barely held-back power, the way he carried himself, the way his immaculate robes flared as he whirled around. It came from the way his eyes flashed and he bared his teeth when someone threatened the ones he considered his. It came from the way his alpha rippled under his skin, proudly on display, uninhibited in its aggression.

It came from the way Jiang Wanyin stopped, breathing hard, then turned slowly around and faced Mingjue, cocking his head in a challenge.

Well, shit.

•••

Xichen’s eyes had never held a challenge. No, he was a steadfast mountain, stable and unflinching, a steady presence next to Mingjue’s roiling alpha. There was something compelling about him, in the way he held himself and smiled that small, gently amused smile of his. He’d always been very different from Mingjue, almost to the point where he wondered if he was an alpha at all. Not that it mattered—Xichen was a dear friend and a confidant no matter what his secondary gender was but Mingjue would’ve lied if he said he never questioned his secondary gender. 

(He later learned about the forehead ribbons and the rigorous control the Lan alphas practiced from a very young age and then he wasn’t confused anymore.)

For quite a long time, he was sure he was in love with Xichen. Even without Huaisang’s warning, he knew it was a hopeless match, of course, considering they both were alphas and sect leaders. While the Nie couldn’t care less about their Sect Leader’s bedroom activities, the Lan weren’t as lenient. Besides, Mingjue was pretty sure Xichen didn’t love him like that. But whenever they met, Mingjue couldn’t quite keep his eyes from following Xichen.

What could he say? The man was beautiful, graceful, and genuinely nice. No wonder Mingjue’s gaze wasn’t the only one that latched on Zewu-jun.

Then on that one, fateful night after a successful night-hunt, Xichen took a drink from the wrong cup. Everyone knew the Lan rule about alcohol but Mingjue hadn’t had a clue it was because they were practically allergic to the stuff. It wasn’t the first time Mingjue hauled Xichen to his room but it was the first time his friend was flushed and relaxed under his arm, his unabashed smile crinkling his eyes to half-moons. He giggled when Mingjue poured him into bed and then looked up at him with such open affection that Mingjue had to swallow and avert his eyes.

”Mingjue,” Xichen sighed. ”You are such a good friend.”

”As are you,” Mingjue croaked in a suddenly hoarse voice. He knelt next to Xichen’s bed, hovering slightly above him, and couldn’t hold back a stuttering breath when Xichen reached up to cup his cheek. 

Before he could second-guess himself, he slowly bent down and kissed Xichen. His lips were soft and tasted of the plum wine he’d downed at one go and Mingjue wanted to press closer, to press and claim and devour— But then Xichen let out a soft, confused sound and Mingjue flinched back.

His friend looked genuinely baffled. ”You kissed me,” Xichen said slowly.

”Yes,” Mingjue said and ducked his head in shame. 

”It felt nice,” Xichen said—

—and then he passed out.

Mingjue sighed and tucked him in, determined to apologize properly in the morning. 

Except that in the morning, Xichen woke up with a terrible headache and no memory of what had happened, and Mingjue decided not to tell him. 

Then Huaisang made him take a trip to some remote village where an omega walked straight into him and proved yet again just how wrong people were to assume omegas were soft creatures that needed to be coddled.

Then Huaisang decided to include said omega—Meng Yao—in whatever plans he was cooking up with Madam Yu (of which Mingjue pretended not to know anything about and meticulously made sure to stay the hell away from) and Mingjue learned just how sharp and ruthless Meng Yao actually was.

Then Huaisang told him to host a meeting that turned out to be mostly a smoke screen for introducing Meng Yao to Madam Yu and Xichen and…well.

Xichen was utterly besotted. The look on his face when he gazed at his mate was so far from the fondness he had for Mingjue that it would be ridiculous to even talk about them in the same sentence. Besides, what would’ve even been the point of bringing up an embarrassing moment he didn’t remember and telling him Mingjue had kissed him without his consent?

Mingjue decided he’d rather take the secret kiss to his grave than risk letting Meng Yao know. 

He might be an alpha but he also had no qualms to admit that sometimes, Meng Yao scared the shit out of him.

•••

”Sect Leader Jiang,” Mingjue said politely as Jiang Wanyin stalked forward. Zidian had retreated back into its ring form but the lack of it didn’t diminish the feeling of a predator prowling closer.

Jiang Wanyin stopped and narrowed his eyes. ”Considering what we’ve been through during the past weeks, don’t you think it’s time to drop the titles?” 

Mingjue raised a brow. Something was different but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. ”Whatever makes you comfortable,” he said. He decided to take a gamble and added, ”Wanyin,” in a low voice.

To his absolute delight, Jiang Wanyin’s cheeks went slightly redder, making him look like he was properly blushing instead of being red-faced after a rigorous exercise. Mingjue wouldn’t mind finding out how far down his chest the blush traveled.

Jiang Wanyin sniffed. ”Mingjue,” he answered and inclined his head before continuing onward to his rooms. The scent trailing behind him was mostly frustration and low-brimming aggression—Jiang Wanyin’s base scent—but threaded through it was excitement and a hint of anxiety and—

Arousal.

Mingjue swallowed.

Well, shit, indeed.

The occupation of Nightless City was drawing to an end. Apart from the semi-permanent overseers from all major sects, he, Jiang Wanyin, and Jin Zixuan were the only high-ranking sect members left. 

As he watched Jiang Wanyin’s retreating back, the young alpha stopped and turned slightly to throw a challenging look over his shoulder. 

”Well?” He snapped, terse. ”Are you coming or are you just going to stand there and stare?”

Mingjue wanted to ask why not do both but if the way Jiang Wanyin was practically vibrating with tension was an indication of anything, this wasn’t a time for jokes.

Perhaps later.

”Oh, yes. Definitely coming,” he said, inhaling the slowly increasing scent of arousal as he walked closer. ”And so will you,” he growled into Jiang Wanyin’s ear, grinning at the blooming smell of lust and aggression.

He really should’ve known that Huaisang would be right about this, too.

Having Huaisang in the Cloud Recesses is strange. In a way, it’s soothing and fun because Wei Wuxian remembers all the stupid stuff they got themselves into but in another way, it’s deeply unsettling. Because now he knows exactly how dangerous a mind hides behind the fluttering fan and big, guileless eyes. Out of their scheming triad, Huaisang is by far the biggest threat to—well, anything, really. 

How anyone can say he’s a mumbling fool is completely, utterly beyond Wei Wuxian.

”Interesting,” Huaisang murmurs as he cocks his head and watches Zhiqiang who, like a sensible, sentient being, tries to look as unassuming and unthreatening as he can and slowly inch away from Huaisang’s line of sight. ”And you still have no idea how he came to be…him?”

”Nope,” Wei Wuxian says. ”A-Yao mentioned that perhaps it just gained sentience but…” He sighs and frowns. ”As Lan Zhan said, it’s not just a mass of resentment. There’s intent and purpose and that—I don’t know what to think about that.”

Huaisang raises a brow. ”Lan Wangji said that?”

In all honesty, Lan Zhan had said a lot more and then proceeded to do a lot more, and, well, that had pretty much been the rest of their day. Wei Wuxian ducks his head in a futile attempt to hide the blush that creeps to his cheeks every time Lan Zhan says something nice—and Lan Zhan isn’t even here, Wei Wuxian is just thinking about what he says and, urgh. It’s terrible and annoying and embarrassing and he knows Huaisang can smell it all on him because Wei Wuxian is weak, weak, weak when it comes to his alpha.

”You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out on things because of my zero mating drive. And then I meet you two and remember just how much better off I am like this,” Huaisang says dryly.

”Hey!”

Huaisang grins.

”You are a terrible friend. I’ve missed you,” Wei Wuxian says.

”Running a sect is busy work,” Huaisang says airily.

”Ha. As if you’d be happy with just that,” Wei Wuxian snorts. 

Huaisang winks and fans himself lazily.

They’re sitting under a giant magnolia tree a short distance away from the Jingshi. It’s a pretty day with white, fluffy clouds drifting across the sky and a gentle breeze that carries the faint promise of autumn with it. Lan Zhan is dealing with a new class of disciples—a chore he took upon himself mostly because Wei Wuxian bullied him into it. He knows the alpha loves teaching but has been too worried about Wei Wuxian to take responsibility for the small band of younglings. Something about not being willing to be away from him for too long or something silly like that. Wei Wuxian threatened to withhold kisses if Lan Zhan didn’t start teaching and Lan Zhan acquiesced which probably had more to do with Wei Wuxian’s pout than what they both knew was an empty threat. In truth, what has probably reassured his alpha more is the fact that Lan Bolin has appointed himself as Wei Wuxian’s unofficial guardian. He’s not sure whether to feel embarrassed or endeared.

Zhiqiang has been patrolling the area above which he was blown apart but so far, there’s been no sign of the trio in white, black, and purple. They’ve either gone to the ground or are using an advanced concealment talisman, both options that make something in Wei Wuxian’s gut churn with worry. While the life of a rogue cultivator is dangerous with no sect behind their back, they are generally left alone to roam the world in peace. For them to disappear so completely is concerning. 

Or it would be if it wasn’t for Huaisang. He doesn’t seem to be overly worried which means he either knows them or knows what has happened to them and, really, Wei Wuxian isn’t sure why he’s concerned. Huaisang probably has it all covered, as usual.

With a flick of his fingers, Huaisang activates a complicated privacy talisman, one of the many Wei Wuxian has gifted him, and asks, ”The real question, I think, is what do you want to happen? Do you want to know where they are or do you want to contact them?” His fan stops and he gives Wei Wuxian a sharp look. ”Do you want to meet them or would you be content with just the knowledge that they’re safe?”

Wei Wuxian drums his fingers on his knee in an absent-minded staccato. ”Of course I’d like to know where they are. That they seem to have vanished altogether is interesting and I’d love to know how. But…” He lets out a long breath. ”I think I need to talk to them. If one of them really is Xiao Xingchen…”

”He’d be your martial uncle,” Huaisang says softly after a moment.

Wei Wuxian shoots him a small, bright smile he knows doesn’t fool Huaisang even a bit but it’s okay. It’s Huaisang. He’s known for ages about the sluggishly bleeding wound in Wei Wuxian’s heart left by the loss of his parents. It doesn’t matter that Jiang-shushu did what he could or that Madam Yu was, despite all her various flaws, a maternal figure for him. It doesn’t matter Wei Wuxian briefly had a popo when he was in Meishan. They couldn’t stop the bleeding because they weren’t his parents.

If he concentrates hard enough, he can bring back the sense of their scents together, the way they smelled after a long day traveling in the sun; sunlight and sweat and grass and the smoke from the campfire all combined. It made him feel safe and warm, something he lost when he lost them. The only thing coming even close is the way Lan Zhan’s skin smells in the morning when they’re barely awake.

Huaisang lets out a small sound that means nothing more than gently reminding Wei Wuxian to return to the here and now. ”I’ll make some inquiries,” Huaisang says carefully. He doesn’t look at Wei Wuxian, gazing calmly at the serene view of the Cloud Recesses instead. ”It might not be time yet.”

”What are you scheming now, A-Sang?” Wei Wuxian asks, amused. 

”Me?” Huaisang asks, letting his eyes go wide with surprise. ”I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wei Wuxian snorts and bumps Huaisang’s shoulder with his own. The movement is just a simple sway to the side but it still manages to jar something in his spine and he hisses in annoyance.

”Is your reformed body still giving you trouble?”

”Only every day,” Wei Wuxian says and then adds a disgusted, ”Bodies, urgh.”

”But isn’t the esteemed Hanguang-jun very happy with your body?” Huaisang asks with a completely straight face.

”The terriblest friend,” Wei Wuxian hisses.

His friend laughs, for once not bothering to hide it behind his fan. They sit in companionable silence for some while longer, Huaisang enjoying the sun with his eyes closed and Wei Wuxian mulling over their conversation and figuring out at least seven different outcomes of what Huaisang’s words might mean.

”Is there a reason Lan Qiren is staring at us?” Huaisang asks without opening his eyes.

”Other than disapproving two omegas sitting out in the open and laughing? No idea,” Wei Wuxian huffs. ”He’s been weird.”

Something shifts in Huaisang’s attention. Wei Wuxian can’t quite pin it down as Huaisang’s omega essence has always been subtle compared to Wei Wuxian’s blatant powerhouse. It feels different, underhanded and gentle, the kind you don’t really recognize lethal before it’s too late. In a way, it’s very much like Huaisang himself.

”Weird how?” He asks, deceptively mild.

”Ah, nothing like that,” Wei Wuxian hurries to placate his friend. ”I don’t know what’s happened between him and his nephews. It’s like…” his voice trails away and he frowns. ”He used to be so full of himself, so sure of his opinions and beliefs but now? It’s like the ground he was standing on turned to quicksand. I don’t understand.” He bites his lip. ”A-Yao said he was the first one to help me after the journal accident and—” He shakes his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Lan Qiren had done that.

”Accident?” Huaisang echoes and side-eyes him.

Oops? ”Yeah, nothing major—anyway,” Wei Wuxian says. ”He gave me a cane.”

Huaisang blinks. ”A what?”

”I know! It was so weird—there I was, going through the Yunmeng basic sword forms and he was staring at me and the next thing I know he’s standing right there and then shoves the cane at me—I honestly thought he was going to hit me but he didn’t, he just wanted me to have it because apparently, it’s good for my form and—”

”A-Xian, breathe,” Huaisang interrupts and then he snaps his fan closed and taps it against his cheek. ”Why on earth would you think he was going to—oh, never mind. Considering he’s obviously not sporting any major injuries, I assume you didn’t tell Lan Wangji.”

”Yeah, no,” he snorts.

”Have you considered the possibility that he’s trying to make amends?”

Wei Wuxian blinks, opens his mouth, and then closes it. ”To me?” He asks, incredulous. ”Why would he do that?”

”Oh, I don’t know, because you’re his nephew’s mate?”

”But…it’s me.”

Huaisang raises a brow. ”Yes, and?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, confused. ”He doesn’t like me. Why—I don’t understand, there’s no point—”

Huaisang sighs and gives him a disappointed look from the corner of his eye. ”Wei Wuxian, you are an idiot.”

He draws slightly into himself, feeling a bit hurt. ”You don’t have to be mean about it,” he mutters.

Huaisang turns to face him fully and shakes his head. ”Why you refuse to see your own worth, I will never understand,” he says, exasperation strong in his scent. It’s rare for Huaisang to let anything out so this…this is the equivalent of Jiang Cheng smacking him on the back of his head for being stupid. 

”You are Lan Wangji’s mate. If something happened to Xichen and A-Yao, you’d be the next Lan-furen.” Huaisang grins at the sudden horror pouring from Wei Wuxian. ”But what actually matters is that you are the most significant person in Lan Wangji’s life. Lan Qiren is many things—including but not limited to a stubborn, bull-headed, classicist snob who tends to treat omegas harsher than they deserve because he was in love with one and betrayed by another. But Xichen and Wangji are his whole family and he knows that the only way he can actually keep his family is to accept the mates his nephews have chosen for themselves.”

”In love with—what? What?” Wei Wuxian yelps, his mind frozen mid-sentence.

”Never mind that,” Huaisang says and waves his questions aside as if they don’t matter. ”Point is, he’s trying. He sucks at it, obviously, but he’s trying.”

”What do you mean, in love with an omega?” Wei Wuxian says shrilly.

Huaisang rolls his eyes. ”What do you think?”

Wei Wuxian throws his hands in the air. ”What makes you think I know what to think? Huaisang!”

”Speaking of amends, have you talked to Jiang Cheng lately?”

Wei Wuxian stares at him, feeling utterly betrayed. ”You can’t do that,” he hisses. ”You can’t just drop information like that on my lap and then change the subject!”

”Why not?”

”Because!”

Huaisang snaps his fan open and hides his smile behind it. ”This is your homework. Think about it and we’ll continue tomorrow.” He stands up and stretches slightly before inclining his head. ”Until tomorrow, A-Xian,” he says, nodding at Lan Bolin who, as usual, has his back at them.

”Huaisang!” Wei Wuxian wails.

His friend is the worst. 

It’s awesome.

”You are happy today,” Lan Zhan says as Wei Wuxian reclines against his chest in the bathtub. 

It’s the kind of evening where Wei Wuxian sort of wants to be near his mate, to be connected, but he doesn’t really feel like anything more. Today, they’ve solved it with Lan Zhan pushing into him oh-so-slowly and holding on to his hips as he slowly ground Wei Wuxian down on his cock. It’s a warm feeling, secure and cherished and it doesn’t necessarily even lead to orgasm on his part. Lan Zhan worked himself to completion using Wei Wuxian’s body as a pliant and warm hole to bury himself into, and now that his knot is lodged snugly inside Wei Wuxian, they nap in the warm water. 

Lan Zhan rubs his thumb slowly over his left hipbone, a reminder that they’re here together and that he’s awake and willing to listen if Wei Wuxian has something in his mind.

”Huaisang is here,” Wei Wuxian hums. ”He gave me homework.”

The thumb pauses for a split moment before continuing its slow, hypnotic movement.

”Has your uncle ever been in love?” He glances at Lan Zhan over his shoulder and sees his genuinely baffled look. ”It’s just something Huaisang said.”

”Is there a reason you want to talk about Uncle while nesting my knot inside you?” Lan Zhan asks carefully.

”What—NO!” He sputters, momentarily torn between hysterical laughter and abject horror. ”Lan Zhan, eww.” He shudders and shakes his head, trying to get rid of images he never ever wanted to have while being naked with his mate. ”According to Huaisang, part of the reason why your uncle behaved the way he did is that he was—and I quote—’in love with one omega and betrayed by another,’ and I’m having a sinking feeling that I know what he meant.”

”Mn.”

Wei Wuxian turns his head and nuzzles his nose on the soft skin under Lan Zhan’s jaw. ”But I’m not sure and I don’t know how to find out,” he says and twines his fingers together with Lan Zhan’s. ”But now that Huaisang told me—”

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts, sounding somewhat pained. ”Please don’t talk about Uncle when we’re intimate.”

Wei Wuxian whines. His mind is running in at least ten different directions and he can’t stop thinking (although he’d rather not think about Lan Qiren) and he should try to stop but he can’t because how is Madam Lan connected to all of this? He’s almost certain that this isn’t the first time the Cloud Recesses houses a trio of omegas with unconventional talents and a penchant for ruthlessness but what does it mean? How long—

He gasps when Lan Zhan’s hand grips his cock, holding him just right and rubbing a thumb over that sensitive spot under the glans. He shudders and clenches, feels Lan Zhan’s knot thick and heavy inside him, pressing against the walls of his channel.

”You are thinking too loud,” Lan Zhan murmurs as he keeps working on his cock. His other hand slowly trails its way from the hip to the delicate skin of the inside of his thigh and then two of Lan Zhan’s long, clever fingers dip behind his balls and press down, hard.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes snap open as his alpha forces an orgasm out of him, wrenching it from him almost violently. He whines and shakes, cock only half-hard and that spot inside burning with the red-hot pleasure of Lan Zhan’s spiritual energy. His mind goes blessedly silent for a moment as the only things he feels and hears are Lan Zhan’s soft words in his ear and his arms holding him close.

”Better,” Lan Zhan says after some while. Wei Wuxian doesn’t bother looking but he knows his mate’s lips will have the slightest smug tilt and his eyes will be dark with satisfaction.

”Urg,” Wei Wuxian says.

Much later, when the Jingshi is dark and silent, Lan Zhan recites him late Madam Lan’s letter. It raises more questions than answers and feels like yet another piece of a puzzle that keeps on growing.

”I think he was in love with my mother,” Wei Wuxian whispers in the safety of the night. ”And your mother betrayed him.”

Lan Zhan is quiet for so long that Wei Wuxian thinks he’s fallen asleep and when he lets out a small, thoughtful hum, the surprise makes him twitch.

”My mother, your mother, Madam Yu,” Lan Zhan says slowly. ”You, Meng Yao, Nie Huaisang.”

”That can’t be a coincidence.”

”Mn.”

”But why?” Wei Wuxian frowns as he draws idle patterns on Lan Zhan’s sleeping robe as he mulls the puzzle over.

Why now? He wonders. And why here? 

The journal sealed in the qiankun pouch is still under the bed. The knowledge of it rests heavy in the back of Wei Wuxian’s mind like a perpetual hum only he can hear. The answers are there, he’s sure of it. And after hearing how Madam Lan described her journal in her letter, Wei Wuxian is pretty sure he could open it—it already tested him and since he’s still alive, it seems to have accepted him as well. The problem is, he has no clue how to open it. The spells embedded in the covers feel familiar but the talismans and warnings drawn on them are something he’s never seen before. 

He has the power but not the skill.

Madam Lan—Madam Yu—Cangse Sanren…

As he slowly starts to drift off, his mind returns to the man clad in white robes and a blindfold over his eyes. Before he has the chance to grab a hold of his thoughts, sleep claims him and pulls him under.

For some completely inane, incomprehensible reason, Wei Wuxian has been banned from the kitchens. He thinks it’s rude—he’s the mate of Hanguang-jun, he should be allowed in the kitchen!—but no matter how he begs, the only time he isn’t chased off is if he’s under supervision. Which is embarrassing, considering he’s an adult man. He doesn’t need supervision! He can totally handle himself and the spices Lan Zhan imports just for him!

”If you touch the ladle, I will skewer you with the chopping knife and string you up to dry,” Meng Yao says pleasantly.

”Aiyah, so rude!” Wei Wuxian whines but snatches a handful of dried berries from the table next to the stove. 

Meng Yao ignores him as he stirs the slowly simmering…stew? Congee? Soup? Something that smells both tart and sweet and will probably taste amazing. ”Last week, this idiot added a handful of chopped chili to the red bean paste,” he says to Huaisang. ”A-Huan thought they were goji berries.”

”I apologized for that!” Wei Wuxian protests.

”Inadequately,” Meng Yao says. ”I couldn’t kiss A-Huan for a day because his lips burned mine—and not in the fun way, mind you.” He cocks his head. ”I’m still thinking about a proper way to encourage you to never do that again. Perhaps…” He purses his lips and then his smile turns gentle—the kind that makes wise men beat a swift retreat. Then again, Wei Wuxian has never claimed to be wise.

”Would you happen to have access to the Golden Hare root, A-Sang?” Meng Yao asks.

Huaisang blinks and coughs, sounding a lot like someone who’s desperately trying to smother a bout of hysterical laughter.

”What?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Meng Yao shrugs and concentrates on his concoction with frightening intensity. ”The Golden Hare root is actually a herb that has moderate health benefits,” he says. ”The downside is that it turns the taste of one’s bodily fluids absolutely vile.”

Wei Wuxian frowns. Bodily fluids, yeah… so what about bodily—”No!” He gasps.

Meng Yao raises a brow.

”You—you—”

Meng Yao smiles and ignores his sputtering.

”You demon,” Wei Wuxian hisses, appalled and scandalized to his very core.

”You made me miss my daily kisses,” Meng Yao reminds him. 

”I need better friends,” Wei Wuxian mutters.

Huaisang lets out a sigh. ”And to think Da-ge says the Cloud Recesses is boring!”

”Mingjue’s imagination has always been somewhat limited,” Meng Yao says.

Huaisang nods, not offended in the slightest. ”Da-ge is a simple man with simple needs. A good fight, a good fuck, a jar of good wine…”

”Is he still in love with A-Huan?” Meng Yao asks, an amused glint in his eye.

”No,” Huaisang demurs. ”He’s got his eye on someone…sparkier.”

”Wait—” Wei Wuxian says, holding his hand up. ”What—Mingjue—in…what?” Then his mind catches up with Huaisang’s choice of words and he presses his hand on his chest and gasps. ”Really? Is my shidi finally getting some?”

”I certainly hope so,” Huaisang says. ”Da-ge is always easier to handle when he can fuck things out.”

”Speaking of fucking, how are things in the bedroom, A-Xian?” Meng Yao asks.

Wei Wuxian hears a soft sound of horror from the door and when he stretches his senses, he can feel a thick cloud of embarrassment rapidly retreating. Lans, he sighs fondly. So delicate. ”It’s sort of cute how well that works every time,” he says with a small smile that freezes on his lips as he takes in Meng Yao’s raised brow. ”What?”

”As convenient as it is to use talk about our sex lives as a means to get some privacy, that was an actual question,” Meng Yao says.

”You—no.”

”Yes,” Meng Yao says mildly. And then he cocks his head and his eyes do the thing that makes Xichen melt. They’re annoyingly effective even on Wei Wuxian and he can’t quite decide whether to be impressed or envious.

”Alright, fine, we fuck,” he says. ”Happy? And why are you so interested in my sex life? Don’t you have enough going on with Xichen-ge?”

”Yes, how are things going on with Xichen?” Huaisang asks. 

”We are fine, thank you for asking,” Meng Yao says.

”Excellent. Then again, I’m sure you have everything handled, don’t you?”

There’s nothing strange in the question itself but something about the way Huaisang holds his fan and how Meng Yao’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit pique his curiosity. ”Hm,” he says, cocks his head, reaches out with his scent and brushes Meng Yao’s cheek. It’s a gentle touch and nothing he hasn’t done before but Meng Yao stiffens just slightly. 

If nothing else, that makes Wei Wuxian sit up and take notice. 

”One does get curious about the everything that’s being handled,” he drawls.

”One should just mind his own business,” Meng Yao says. He’s still wearing his small smile but it’s getting increasingly fixed, morphing from a genuine expression into a mask. 

”Aren’t we in this kitchen to mind everyone else’s business but our own?” He asks, amused.

”Of course,” Meng Yao says, turning his attention back to the pot.

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes. Meng Yao is holding himself more carefully than usual and he’s been testier lately. He does a quick mental calculation and—

—Ah. Of course.

”Do you want to use the cabin back behind the waterfall or rent a room in Caiyi?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Meng Yao turns sharply around. ”What?” He asks, genuinely confused.

”Your heat is approaching, right? That’s why you’ve been all strung up. Look, if you’re worried about how the Lan will react when their Sect Leader’s mate goes into heat, I can come up with a distraction,” he says and waggles his brows.

”Don’t be an idiot,” Meng Yao snaps. ”I don’t care about that and neither does A-Huan. The Lan can be uptight about many things but not about this.”

”Then what are you nervous about?” Wei Wuxian asks.

”I’m not—”

”Oh please,” he scoffs. ”I’ve spent quite some time with you and by now, I’ve gotten pretty good reading you. You are nervous about something related to your heat. If it’s not the heat itself or how the sect will see you after you’re done with begging the esteemed Zewu-jun to fuck you through the mattress, then…what? Kids? No one’s going to blame you if you don’t get pregnant right away.”

Meng Yao flinches. It’s a barely perceptible twitch but coming from an omega with impeccable control, it might’ve just as well been a full-body jerk.

”A-Yao,” Wei Wuxian says softly.

The fixed smile is back on Meng Yao’s face as he stirs his cooking a couple of times and then moves the pot away from the heat. Feeling slightly at a loss, Wei Wuxian glances at Huaisang who, curiously, isn’t looking at Meng Yao but Wei Wuxian, a look of expectance in his eyes. He frowns and Huaisang’s eyes flicker momentarily to his abdomen and then back to meet his gaze.

What—

Oh.

Oh, fuck no.

”A-Yao, I’m going to hug you now so please don’t stab me,” he says and then marches to his friend and grabs him in a tight hug. ”If you’re harboring some stupid ideas of taking pregnancy-preventing medication just so that I or Lan Zhan wouldn’t feel bad if you get pregnant, I’ll kick your ass,” he says vehemently into the crook of Meng Yao’s neck. ”So what if my heat cycle hasn’t started—or that it might never start again? That has nothing to do with you. If you want kids then go for it! Yeah, I’ll probably mope when you catch but that’s on me. I’m still going to be over the moon. And Lan Zhan will smile. In public! And I’ll be the best uncle your kids will ever get, I swear! And A-Yuan will be the best cousin ever!”

A slight shudder runs down Meng Yao’s frame and his throat works, a dry click against Wei Wuxian’s ear. He doesn’t hug him back—that’s not how Meng Yao works—but he grips Wei Wuxian’s arms tightly for a moment before gently pushing Wei Wuxian away. He lets go, not wanting to crowd Meng Yao more than he already has.

Meng Yao’s eyes are bright and he blinks several times and then his face does the strange thing where it seems to almost ripple and it settles back to his familiar, gently smiling look. ”Thank you, A-Xian,” he says and if his voice is slightly choked, none of them mentions it.

”So!” Wei Wuxian says brightly. ”Now that we have adequately traumatized the Lans and talked about our sex lives to Huaisang’s attentive ears, can we finally get to the point?”

”Which is…?” Huaisang asks, amused.

”How the fuck would you know Lan Qiren was in love with my mother?”

Huaisang heads back home a couple of days later, leaving infuriatingly vague hints that burrow under Wei Wuxian’s skin and refuse to leave him alone. Meng Yao is growing increasingly irritable due to his nearing heat, Lan Zhan has his small students, and Wei Wuxian is, yet again, betrayed by his body. On days like these, even having A-Yuan over doesn’t always help.

Mulling over the mysteries of the past gives him something else than his broken body to think about. 

”Young Master Wei,” Lan Bolin’s voice drifts in from the porch one morning. ”You have a visitor.”

Wei Wuxian blinks his weary eyes open and frowns. Visitor? Who the hell could it be?

And then, incomprehensibly, Jiang Yanli says, ”Thank you, Lan Bolin. You can return to your duties now.”

”Shijie!” Wei Wuxian gasps, reaches out with his senses, and nearly bursts into tears when he encounters Jiang Yanli’s steady, familiar presence. He tries to push himself up and his body thanks him with a slash of pain down his side. ”Fuck you,” he growls. ”If I want to see my shijie, I will see my shijie!”

A knock on the door and shijie’s voice calls out. ”Is it alright if I come in, A-Xian? I saw Lan Wangji on our way in and he said you had a rough night.”

”Yeah,” he calls back, unreasonably relieved when he doesn’t have to force himself through the pain just yet.

”What are you doing here? And who’s ’we’? Please don’t tell me you brought the peacock.”

”A-Cheng and I arrived a short while ago,” Jiang Yanli says. ”And Zixuan is going to be your brother-in-law soon so you should try to come up with a nicer nickname for him,” she chides.

”Yes, shijie,” he mutters.

”A-Cheng went to talk with Sect Leader Lan and Teacher Lan. I believe Lan Wangji went with them.”

”Um…why?” Wei Wuxian asks slowly. ”Did something happen? Should I be there too?” He pushes himself up again and tries to bite back a hiss of pain.

Jiang Yanli tuts and shakes her head. ”Lay back down,” she scolds. ”I told them you’d start worrying the moment you heard we were here but A-Cheng was stubborn as usual.” She sighs. ”We’re here to negotiate your marriage agreement with Lan Wangji.”

”My…what?”

She gives him a wry smile. ”Did you really think we’d let you live here without officially acknowledging the alliance between our sects?”

”But—but my heats—”

”Have nothing to do with the marriage,” Jiang Yanli interrupts calmly. ”We want to make sure your position here is as secure as possible. No, don’t give me that look, we know how devoted Lan Wangji is to you. Official marriage will secure your position and by proxy also Lan Wangji’s because then there will be no wagging tongues claiming you’re only allowed to stay because of your ’omega wiles.’” The way her eyes roll gives Wei Wuxian a pretty good idea of where this ’concern’ might come from.

”Sect Leader Yao should take care of his own business,” he snorts.

”He will. Meanwhile, let us take care of our own,” Jiang Yanli says with a raised brow.

”Fine,” Wei Wuxian sniffs. ”Are you allowed to tell me what they’re negotiating about? At least there won’t be a bride price because there’s no bride.”

Shijie is silent.

”Wait.”

”You are right that there is no bride price,” she says with a gentle, barely there smile and a steely glint in her eyes. ”But you are our brother, the Head Disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, and the Lan will treat you according to your status.”

”My sta—I don’t have a status!” I’m not even a proper omega, he doesn’t say.

”Just because you think so doesn’t make it true,” shijie says calmly, almost like she’s able to read his mind which, well, she’s his shijie. She probably knows how.

”A-Xian,” she says and cups his cheek. ”You are precious to us. Even though we all know Sect Leader Lan will accept any price we name, this alliance isn’t just for posturing and show. Your skills, your strength, your intelligence, your whole personality, they matter. You matter. Right now, A-Cheng is making it very clear that while Yunmeng Jiang is weak right now, we stand behind you. Any disrespect on you is disrespect on us and, through our connections, on the Jin and the Nie. Your secondary gender is, well, secondary, when it comes to everything else you are. When it comes to you.”

”But—”

Shijie presses a finger on his lips. ”No buts. You will stand back and let your Sect Leader negotiate one hell of a contract.”

Wei Wuxian stares. Blinks. Stares a bit more. He’s never heard shijie swear before. 

”Now,” she says, taking advantage of his stunned silence. ”Have you been stretching the way Wen Qing ordered you to?”

She guides him through the exercises—he has no idea how she knows them,  and he’s somewhat terrified of the thought of shijie and Wen Qing teaming up against him—and then she helps him up and into the bath waiting up behind the privacy screen. They chat about nothing in particular as he slowly bathes himself human again and after, she brushes his hair.

”What if—” he starts, quiet, then falls silent again, blinking rapidly at his fingers. He has a hangnail on his thumb and he picks at it until it rips and then he bites his lip and pushes a small amount of spiritual energy on it to stop the bleeding.

”What if I’ll never be right again?” 

It comes out as a whisper, his fear breathed softly into the quiet, humid morning light of the Jingshi.

Shijie lets out a thoughtful sound. ”Is there only one way to be…right, whatever it might mean?”

He makes a face. ”You know what I mean.”

”Do I?”

Wei Wuxian takes a breath and closes his eyes, turns his focus inward and into his core. He tries to spin it the way he used to but it lurches out of his grip and hides from him, slipping from him like oil or mist. It feels foreign, not the brightly burning furnace he used to work with and knew like, well, an intimate part of himself, but like a rippling mirage of the setting sun or the moonlight playing on the surface of a river. 

”I don’t know how to—” he says and shakes his head. ”It was so easy. And now?”

Shijie lets out a small hum as her hands keep on with the steady motion of the comb. ”What if it’s also scared?”

”I’m not—” Wei Wuxian immediately hurries to say and then deflates. ”I don’t know why I’m scared. Or of what.”

”You don’t know yourself anymore,” shijie says. 

”No, I don’t,” he admits. It’s absolutely terrifying to say aloud, even as a whisper, because saying it aloud makes it true and—what then? If he doesn’t know himself anymore, who is he?

Shijie sets the comb aside, hugs him from behind, and hooks her chin over his shoulder. ”Then perhaps you should get to know yourself. Not the A-Xian you were. But the A-Xian you are.” She presses their cheeks together. ”That’s the only way you’ll know the A-Xian you will become.”

She leaves him soon after that, claiming she has something she wants to show Wen Qing but Wei Wuxian is pretty sure she really leaves because now that she put the thought in his head, he wants to experiment and because shijie is who she is, she knows that. Knows him.

Despite the fact that for him, meditation is usually a fast way to fall asleep, he decides to give it a try. He sits next to the bed, leans his back against the sturdy frame, closes his eyes, and reaches inside. His core responds sluggishly and he stifles an exasperated sigh. Why is this so hard? He just wants to get back on track, to work like he used to, to push and—

A strange, foggy sensation envelops him. It’s gentle but unyielding like a cloud decided to cradle him within it and trap him inside—no, not trap. Cushion? Shield?

It’s also very distinctively telling him no.

What do you mean, no? Wei Wuxian groans inside his head. That doesn’t mean anything. No to what? To me? To Gusu? To bland soup and uninspiring vegetables?

The feeling retreats, leaving him baffled. He reaches in again, drawing on his core like he used to. It shies away from him again but it’s not as reluctant as it was.

Why are you doing this? What’s wrong with you? 

What’s wrong with me?

The foggy feeling surges back, this time very firmly telling him there’s nothing wrong with him.

”What—?” Wei Wuxian breathes out and opens his eyes.

The Jingshi looks like it always does, small dust motes dancing in the sunlight, the air smelling slightly of sandalwood. Absolutely nothing explains the weird feeling. Unless—

He glances down at his abdomen.

Pokes it.

”Is it you?” He asks, incredulous.

For some reason, he gets the feeling that his core is…shy? 

What the hell is going on?

Determined, he closes his eyes again, straightens his pose, and does a routine check along his meridians. His spiritual energy is running properly, his meridians are as fine as one should expect after everything he’s been through, and in his lower dantian, his core spins, spins, spins.

Wei Wuxian has never considered his core before. He’s never bothered to sit down and meditate on it, as his preferred method has always been action. Sword forms, flying, inventing, night-hunting. He always shone the brightest when he was pushing himself and his core, trying to bring the Yunmeng Jiang motto to life. But now that he can’t do that, he feels slightly at a loss.

From the moment he first felt his core, it’s always just been there. A part of him. Something to use to his advantage, to make things happen. But now, it’s something different: still a part of him but also a part of Lan Zhan? Sort of? How does one get to know the source of one’s spiritual energy anyway?

After some hemming and hawing, he decides to just go for it. He breathes in deeply, follows the basic breathing meditation Lan Zhan has patiently taught him and lets his consciousness sink fully down. Without his conscious thought, his breathing slows down along with his heartbeat. 

It feels like he’s floating in the warm waters of the lake back in Yunmeng under a sky full of stars. It’s quiet, peaceful, and the water cradles him like a mother’s embrace. He stretches out his hands, relaxes, and waits.

”You have been careless,” his own voice says.

Wei Wuxian opens his eyes to see himself sitting comfortably on the surface of the lake. His robes are very dark blue and his hair is down, and the familiar red ribbon is tied around his right wrist. Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon adorns his left wrist.

”I have?” He asks.

”Mn,” the inner him says. ”Are you going to keep doing that?”

”I’m afraid I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” Wei Wuxian asks after a moment of silence.

”You are not a tool. Not a blunt instrument of astounding power, not just a mind that invents things people do not even know how to dream about. Do not waste yourself on the altar of other people’s needs.”

He narrows his eyes. ”You sound a lot like Lan Zhan.”

Inner-him tilts his head and gives him an exasperated look. ”I wonder why, considering it was Lan Zhan’s spiritual energy that pulled you back to this world.”

”So…you’re more like a hybrid of our energies instead of just my resurrected core?”

Inner-him shrugs. ”If that makes you feel better, then sure. It does not change the facts, though.”

”And what are those?”

Something in Inner-him’s eyes flashes with immense power. ”You have been careless with yourself. Please do not do that again. We would like to see you thrive.”

”We?” Wei Wuxian echoes, feeling lost.

”Yes,” Inner-him says. He stands up, somehow looking like he’s on a sturdy surface instead of on top of the lake, and seems to stretch. Or perhaps he’s looming? Or Wei Wuxian is getting smaller. Weird.

”We. You. All of us,” Inner-him says and his voice breaks apart, sounding more like a choir than one person talking.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t have time to react. Inner-him steps forward and takes his hand, yanks him up from the water and into his embrace and then they’re hugging except that Inner-him somehow sinks into Wei Wuxian and he would freak the fuck out if he wasn’t too busy feeling like he’s complete in a way he hasn’t been in a long, long while.

He loses himself to it. He breathes in the spinning light of his core, its gently nagging worry and fierce need to protect him, the way it stretches and spreads out inside of him, reaching outward from his belly until his whole body is tingling with the strange, electric power. It feels amazing. He laughs lightly and rolls his shoulders, amazed when it doesn’t hurt (then again, he isn’t sure if he’s rolling his shoulders or Inner-his shoulders and wow, this thing could get very confusing very quickly).

At some point, he becomes aware of someone next to him and he reaches out with all of his senses, smiling when he encounters the familiar presence of his mate. Lan Zhan is cool and steady, like a placid lake with hidden depths and immeasurable strength.

He opens his eyes and looks fondly at Lan Zhan kneeling in front of him with a hand reaching out.

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan breathes, eyes wide and shocked. ”You are glowing.”

Jiang Cheng was not pining.

”I’m not pining,” he growled through gritted teeth.

”Of course not, A-Cheng,” A-jie murmured and sipped her tea. ”Which is why we have no training dummies left after yet another day with no letter from Qinghe.”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. He wanted to snap at A-jie but one didn’t just snap at Jiang Yanli and make it out unscathed. He used to think it was because he and Wei Wuxian were (almost) always there by her side but he’d since learned his lesson. Their sister was formidable all on her own—A-jie had been in on the ruthless plot that brought Jin Guangshan down which was something Jiang Cheng was still having a hard time grasping.

”It’s…” He let out a frustrated huff. ”I know it’s stupid. And I know that I shouldn’t. But—”

A-jie was silent for a moment and then she smiled. ”It’s not stupid to crave some human contact, A-Cheng,” she said softly. 

”I’m not in love with him—” he started and then snapped his mouth shut as A-jie raised a brow.

”I know you aren’t that dim, A-Cheng, so please, don’t insult my intelligence—or yours!—by being deliberately obtuse. Not everyone is fated for a grand love story like A-Xian and Wangji. Not everyone yearns for the kind of gentle security I’ve recently found with Zixuan.”

”Fucking about time for him to get his act together,” Jiang Cheng muttered and then meekly shut up because A-jie was frowning now and that was never a good sign.

”Quite,” she just said dryly and then sighed. ”Some people don’t feel the need to take a mate. Some people don’t have the need to find any kind of physical contact that has anything sexual in it. And it’s completely fine.” She reached out and gripped his hand in hers. ”A-Cheng, if all you need is someone to blow off steam, to ’fuck it out of your system’ as they say, you should know that neither I nor A-Xian care who your partner is. The only thing that matters is that you feel comfortable with them.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind slid over the fact that A-jie just said fuck and latched on to the main issue. ”I know I should think about the sect,” he grumbled and rubbed his temple with his free hand. ”But we’re so vulnerable right now. I don’t—I can’t—”

”Which is why I think Sect Leader Nie is a perfect choice,” A-jie interrupted gently and squeezed his hand. ”He isn’t interested in taking a mate, Huaisang is a dear friend to both me and A-Xian, and neither of them would ever put you in a position where you’d endanger the sect. They understand what it means to hold on to the status of the sect leader with tooth and nail while everyone around you is just waiting for you to fail.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. ”You should take what he offers, A-Cheng. I think it would do you both a world of good.”

”I suppose,” he said reluctantly.

She beamed. ”Excellent! Now, be a good boy and write Nie Mingjue a letter. You’ll feel better. I promise.”

•••

Wei Wuxian had always been annoying. The moment Father had brought him home, he’d been loud even in his silence, and the way he claimed his space in Jiang Cheng’s orderly life had been disconcerting, to say the least. He’d lost his dogs because Wei Wuxian was hysterically afraid of them and he’d lost his Father because he’d seen something in Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng lacked. 

And he’d gained someone who was obnoxiously there and talked and didn’t leave him alone until he was living under Jiang Cheng’s skin and in his heart, a persistent ache he resented and loved with a passion that nearly rivaled what he felt for A-jie. 

Wei Wuxian was annoying and funny and mean and under all his bluster, incessant talking, and the wall of words, heartbreakingly honest. He somehow always managed to say the things that sliced Jiang Cheng open but he was never cruel about it. His truths hurt but they also forced out the pus festering inside him. It was a rare talent (or a curse) he’d never seen in anyone else and something he fervently wished he’d never learned to understand in the first place.

And then the idiot went and died and—

And then Lan Wangji brought him back and—

And then—

And then—

(There were nights when his dreams were a continuous loop of watching his brother being ripped to shreds both by the dogs and the Tally while he did nothing but stood aside, powerless.)

In Nightless City, he had to survive on what A-jie told him because fucking Hanguang-jun went feral and refused to let Jiang Cheng see his brother which forced him to pace outside Wei Wuxian’s recovery rooms like a fool. But he did. Pace. And he seethed and hated himself for all the mistakes he’d made because if he’d been a better brother, a better sect leader, a better…anything, perhaps then he would’ve been allowed in. 

He clenched his hands into fists and talked to Lan Wangji and they both hated each moment.

He hissed and barked when the peerless Hanguang-jun carried Jiang Cheng’s brother in his arms smelling like a brothel, and fled when Wei Wuxian started to talk about Nie Mingjue and getting laid, and Jiang Cheng had to first pour out his rage and grief through Zidian and then duck behind the corner to stifle his sobs into his palm because he didn’t remember when he’d last heard his brother laugh like that.

So. When Wei Wuxian finally sent off his watchdog mate who would stop at nothing to keep him safe and deigned to talk to him, Jiang Cheng had to grind his teeth to keep his tears at bay. He’d seen his stupid brother being torn apart and he’d held it together, he wasn’t going to break down from casual talking. 

(He nearly managed and was ridiculously proud about it.)

”I was serious, you know?” Wei Wuxian said, sitting up on the cold bench in the pavilion, holding himself the way that clearly told Jiang Cheng he was way more tired than he let on. Idiot.

”When have you ever been serious about anything?” Jiang Cheng scoffed, gently bumping into him, eyes sharp in case the moron was trying to cover up his pain again.

”Aiyah, so cruel, Chengcheng!” 

”Don’t call me that!” He hissed back, swallowing against the sob that was trying to break free without his consent and then scowled at Wei Wuxian’s knowingly raised brow.

And then Wei Wuxian reached out for him, careful, almost like he thought Jiang Cheng wouldn’t welcome his touch. Stupid. He gripped Jiang Cheng’s wrist so hard he felt the tremors run up his arm, looking up at him with unusual sincerity. 

”Don’t blame yourself,” he said, low and intense. 

”What?” Jiang Cheng barked back.

”I know why you did it. I don’t blame you so you shouldn’t blame yourself, either.”

Fuck.

”But I do,” he said in a broken whisper. ”I was—I wanted to apologize and—”

”Apology accepted,” Wei Wuxian interrupted him like the soft-hearted imbecile he was. He’d always been too kind-hearted, too forgiving, and he shouldn’t do that when people could take advantage of him, carve out small pieces of him until there was nothing left and even then they’d want more and more and Jiang Cheng hadn’t been able to protect him, he hadn’t kept him safe, hadn’t kept anyone safe and—

”Shidi,” Wei Wuxian said softly, slipping his hand down his wrist and under Jiang Cheng’s palm to pry his fingers open from the rigid fist they’d curled out of their own volition. His scent settled over him in a soft blanket, familiar and safe, bundling him up in a cocoon that shut out the rest of the world until there were just the two of them.

Wei Wuxian leaned his temple against Jiang Cheng’s and twined their fingers together and something in him cracked. He drew a breath and then another and then he was sobbing, clutching Wei Wuxian’s hand in his own and clinging to his comforting scent like it would somehow make everything better.

(It didn’t. Couldn’t. But he still felt a bit better afterward—or at least up until Wei Wuxian shifted and his scent flashed with pain and then Jiang Cheng had the chance to pull himself together by yelling at his brother what an idiot he was because why the fuck was he sitting outside on a stone bench and making himself cramp up and where the fuck was his mate why wasn’t he taking proper care of him and why the fucking fuck was that creepy mass of black soot that pretended to be a fucking owl giving him a stinky eye?)

Yeah. He felt better after their talk.

•••

Yes, Jiang Cheng had a list of desirable traits he wanted to see in his mate. 

Yes, it was a ridiculous list.

Yes, he did it on purpose.

Thing was, even if he wasn’t a barely adult leader of a nearly wiped-out sect, the mere idea of taking a mate felt…unpleasant. Oh, he knew that if Mother was alive, she would’ve found him a mate and he would’ve gone through with it because one did not say no to Violet Spider. But Mother was gone and all he had left was the tattered remains of his sect, a sister, and a brother who had given his life to save them all and then had been stitched together by his insanely powerful and ridiculously devoted mate, and now they were in Gusu and A-jie was about to move to Lanling to be mated off to Jin Zixuan who might not be as bad as he and Wei Wuxian had originally thought. But…whatever.

That left Jiang Cheng on Lotus Pier, alone, trying to scrape his life, his sect, his people back together. He had no time for mates. His sect needed him and he was determined to make sure they survived whatever was coming next (because something was always coming, always). 

But perhaps he didn’t have to panic so hard. After all, he was tied to both Lanling Jin and Gusu Lan through marriage contracts, and, as A-jie had said, Huaisang was a friend. He had the support of all Major sects and while the Minor sects might be troublesome, they wouldn’t pose a real threat. 

Yunmeng Jiang wasn’t alone.

So…why did it feel like Jiang Cheng was?

He scowled at his wine bottle and took a swig. He was sitting at the edge of the pier, bare toes grazing the warm water of the lake, and the space next to him felt so empty he had to grit his teeth and breathe through the ache in his chest. This was where he and Wei Wuxian used to sit back when everything was still okay, back when he hadn’t watched his brother holding a demonic tool and letting it rip him apart.

The memory gave him nightmares on a weekly basis and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be going away for some time. 

He took another swig and tried to think about something else and on their own volition, his mind returned to the way Nie Mingjue had slammed him against the wall of his room in Nightless City. 

He was so damn big and strong and the thrill of fighting their way to bed had been exhilarating. Mingjue had kissed the way he fought: with grim determination and holding nothing back and Jiang Cheng had taken it all and demanded more. Smelling their combined aggression and arousal had made his head spin and the memory still brought a flush to his cheeks and made him hard under his robes. 

There were many things he hadn’t known about Sect Leader Nie. He hadn’t known about the scars that adorned his chest or how the muscles in his back rippled as he rode Jiang Cheng hard and fast. He hadn’t known he’d be so hot around Jiang Cheng’s cock, or how effortlessly he could pin Jiang Cheng under him, or how the weight of his cock felt in Jiang Cheng’s hand. 

So many things he would’ve never even dared to dream about.

And yet, all that had happened. 

Twice. 

And then he’d passed out and woken up to an empty bed and a short note that said, Travel safe. Let me know if you need anything. —Mingjue.

He’d been telling himself that Mingjue’s ’anything’ did not include a hard fuck.

But what if it could?

Emboldened by the wine, he hurried to his desk, wrote a letter, and sealed it ready to be sent in the morning.

Wen Qing is, understandably, less thrilled about the newest turn of events, giving Wei Wuxian a pissed-off look tinged with exasperation. 

”You need to take better care of yourself,” she sighs. ”You are still recuperating and this—whatever this now is—it could be a further setback.”

His core pulses smugly and he casts an incredulous look down. ”You’re not allowed to team up on me,” he hisses, poking at his stomach.

Wen Qing looks at him like he suddenly sprouted a second head. 

Lan Zhan clears his throat and says, ”It seems that Wei Ying’s core has somehow turned sentient.”

”What,” she says in a completely flat voice.

”I didn’t do it on purpose!” Wei Wuxian protests feebly.

”I—what,” Wen Qing says again, taking a step back as her eyes dart from him to Lan Zhan and back. ”This isn’t funny, you know.”

”Not a joke,” Lan Zhan says.

”No.”

”Wen Qing—” Wei Wuxian whines.

”No. Stop doing things to your body—with your body—to—from—just STOP!” She staggers a bit as she sits down on the chair next to her desk, buries her face in her hands, and lets out a muffled scream of pure frustration. Wei Wuxian has a sudden, vague urge to pat her head but he doesn’t because she’d probably bite his hand off.

”Why?” Wen Qing asks after an uncomfortably long, awkward moment. ”Why do you keep doing stuff like this? What is wrong with you?”

Probably a fucking lot, is his gut reaction but before he even has the chance to open his mouth, Lan Zhan says in a chilly tone he’s never used on Wen Qing before, ”Nothing is wrong with Wei Ying,” making it sound more like a threat than a statement of fact. 

She shoots him an exasperated look before leaning her head back and gazing up at the ceiling with glazed-over eyes.

”Oh, well,” she sighs after some time, rubs a hand over her face, and lets out a huff of breath. ”Fuck it.”

”What?” Wei Wuxian squeals.

”Outer robes off, on the bed now,” she commands, rummaging her desk for paper and a brush. ”If you insist on doing something like this, I insist on examining you properly.” 

”But—” Wei Wuxian says and then snaps his mouth shut at her glare.

”If you have complaints, you can complain over there,” she says, pointing to the corner that has a hook on the wall and a mirror next to it.

He blinks. ”But…there’s just a mirror?”

”Exactly.” She turns around with a brisk air and tuts. ”Why aren’t you on the bed already?”

Sharing bewildered looks with Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian strips to his underrobes and gingerly settles on the bed. His body feels strange but in a good way. Mostly. Probably? 

”You said he was glowing,” Wen Qing says to Lan Zhan.

”Mn.”

”What were you doing? And don’t bother saying ’nothing,’ we all know you were doing something. So, out with it.”

While Wen Qing works, Wei Wuxian tries to put his experience into words which is hard because he isn’t sure what he did in the first place. Talked with his inner self? Embraced himself—quite literally? He gets the story out in half-thought-out sentences and hesitant words, stopping every now and then to reach out to his core to make sure it’s still there, that he didn’t imagine it all. 

When she’s done, Wen Qing steps back and lets Lan Zhan help him to sit up. ”I still can’t say I understand what you did but it worked,” she says with a small frown. ”Your meridians are fine. They are stronger and more, well, flexible than they were in the previous check. Your core feels more solid now, better blended together, I think. Like…” she pauses to think. ”Think of it as a dough,” she says. ”Your original core was like jiaozi dough and Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy that stitched you back together was baozi dough. Both types of dough, both edible, but different from each other by flavor and consistency. Back in Nightless City when your jiaozi was torn apart, it was put back together with baozi, resulting in an uneven mix that barely held together. Whatever you did, that mix has now evened out, resulting in a smooth, new kind of dough that’s neither jiaozi nor baozi.”

She pauses and blinks.

”I might come up with a better analogy later. I’m just tired and hungry.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help himself. ”I’m a dumpling, Lan Zhan,” he says with a grin and waggles his brows. ”Wanna eat me up?” 

Lan Zhan’s eyes go dark but before he has the chance to reply, Wen Qing clicks her tongue. ”No one is eating anyone up or out in my office, is that clear?” Lan Zhan ducks his head and his ears go red but Wen Qing ignores him. ”What you could do instead is to demonstrate just how you reached out for your core.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. ”Okay,” he says and closes his eyes. This time, his core doesn’t try to shy away from him but is waiting, slightly cautious but trusting, and lets him dive into it and spin spin spin spin—

”STOP!”

Wei Wuxian freezes and blinks his eyes open. In front of him, Wen Qing stands completely still with her hands at her sides and a slightly wild look in her eyes. Lan Zhan is still next to him but he also is looking a bit bewildered because—

”Um,” Wei Wuxian says.

He’s sitting on the bed in the position he generally finds tolerable, his hands resting on his thighs as usual, except that there’s nothing usual in this situation. Faint, pearly light seeps from his…skin? Must be skin. Through his skin? Anyway, it’s reaching out to Lan Zhan who stands perfectly still.

”What?” Wei Wuxian says faintly.

”Can you control it?” Wen Qing asks. ”Or feel anything through—or via—it?”

”No? I mean, it just is? It doesn’t feel hostile. I think it just wants to be near Lan Zhan.” Like I do, he thinks, and, whoa, the light flashes brighter.

”What did you do?” Wen Qing snaps.

”Nothing!” He yelps.

”Hm. What did you think about?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs again, detachedly wondering how easy the movement feels. ”Lan Zhan,” he says and grins  when his mate narrows his eyes.

Wen Qing lets out a thoughtful sound and steps closer. ”Then how about…” she says and leans in to whisper in his ear, ”Think about the way his body would feel under all those robes, how his skin would taste, and how you feel when he’s inside you?”

Wei Wuxian lets out a soft gasp as the light flares like a bonfire, pouring out to Lan Zhan whose eyes go wide and his lips part, and Wei Wuxian would really, really like to kiss his mate, like now.

”Okay, that settles it,” Wen Qing says in her normal voice, cutting through the haze of his mind. ”Whatever this is, it’s clearly attuned to your mating bond—the one that’s already there even without a heat and bites. It is my…” her lips twitch, ”…professional opinion that you should leave my office and deal with it. Preferably in a place that’s well sound-proofed and reinforced for possible leakage of spiritual energy.”

”Huh?” Wei Wuxian says.

”You are talking about dual cultivation,” Lan Zhan says slowly in a low voice.

”Yes.”

”Will it be safe? For Wei Ying?”

Wen Qing raises a brow at the light still pulsing from Wei Wuxian to Lan Zhan. ”Honestly? No idea. I don’t think his new core will harm him—I have a feeling it wants to keep him safe. But you probably should make sure to channel it properly.” She pauses and gives him a piercing look. ”Will you be able to do that?”

Lan Zhan inclines his head. He’s looking as regal as ever even though the scent of his arousal is slowly seeping through his control. ”Mn. I have read the instructions. Wei Ying will be safe.”

”Wei Ying is right here,” Wei Wuxian points out. ”What are you talking about?”

Wen Qing ignores him. ”And the place?”

”There is one,” Lan Zhan says. ”If you could send a message to Brother that I have taken Wei Ying to the Cold Pond Cave.”

”Hey!”

”I will. Is there anything you need?”

”Just Wei Ying.”

”Wei Ying would like to know what the fuck is going on,” Wei Wuxian mutters.

Wen Qing turns to give him an exasperated look. ”Wei Ying will get both his brains fucked out and finally dual cultivate in a moment, so perhaps Wei Ying could be patient for just a little longer?”

Lan Zhan lets out a soft sound that means he’s laughing and then turns to pick Wei Wuxian in his arms. 

”Well, if you put it that way…” Wei Wuxian says and rests his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. ”Wait, a cave? You’re taking me to a cave?”

”Mn.”

”Lan Zhan, how cruel!” He wails. ”A cave! This fragile omega needs a bed!”

”There is a bed.”

”What kind of a cave has a bed?”

Wen Qing lets out an annoyed sound. ”The kind that is anywhere but here. Go. I’ll inform your siblings.”

It takes Wei Wuxian embarrassingly long to remember that one, siblings is a plural, and two, Wen Qing is going to tell Jiang Cheng and shijie that he’s about to get fucked within the inch of his life.

He would probably feel a lot more mortified if he wasn’t so eager for it.

Lan Zhan carries him up a remote path that snakes up the mountain, a route Wei Wuxian hasn’t noticed before which might be because of the heavy warding. They slide against his skin as they pass through them, a cool shiver that doesn’t feel threatening at all, mostly just curious. He isn’t sure if it’s because they sense he isn’t a threat or because he’s carrying a piece of Lan Zhan in his core.

The path gets narrower the higher they climb and when it dwindles away altogether, they’re left standing in front of a rock wall. As far as Wei Wuxian can detect, there’s no door or passageway for them to get through. Before he has the chance to ask, Lan Zhan gently sets him down and then removes his forehead ribbon.

”The Cave will only grant entrance for the main family members and their mates,” Lan Zhan says quietly as he wraps the ribbon around both their wrists. ”Follow me.”

He raises his bound hand slightly to let Wei Wuxian know they’re to move their hands together and they press their palms against the smooth stone together. The rock feels warm under their palm and seems to hum, the gentle vibrations traveling down his arm and into his very core. A moment passes and then a part of the rock wall dissolves, revealing a dim, narrow tunnel. Lan Zhan twines their fingers together and steps through first, gently guiding Wei Wuxian in behind him. The tunnel doesn’t touch them but it still feels like they’re squeezing through something infinitely dense and heavy and Wei Wuxian has a sudden flash of certainty that if the ribbon slips from around his wrist, he’ll be stuck inside the rock forever.

Before he has the chance to panic, they’re through and in a cave.

It’s cozy, if a cave could be described as such—not too big to be uncomfortable but not too small to trigger claustrophobia either. The walls are pale blue stone and the ceiling is luminescent white, supported by slender pillars that seem almost decorative but which probably are stronger than any Nie fortress ever built. There’s a pond filled with the clearest water Wei Wuxian has ever seen and inhabited by shimmering fish he assumes are carps. Probably. Behind the pond is a stone altar that rises from the ground like it’s grown from the stone itself. Perhaps it is.

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. ”Come.”

Wei Wuxian glances behind but only sees a smooth wall of pale blue stone and no sign of a passageway, then he shrugs and steps next to his mate.

”Lan Zhan, what is this place?” He asks in a hushed voice.

”Cold Pond Cave,” Lan Zhan replies. ”The nexus of the Cloud Recesses spiritual power.” He leads Wei Wuxian to the altar and sits down, guiding him to step in between his legs. ”The Location and purpose are known to the Elders and the main family only.”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head and raises his hand, trailing the fingers of his free hand across Lan Zhan’s bare forehead. ”And what is its purpose?” He murmurs.

”To uphold the wards around the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Zhan answers, raises their bound hands, and kisses the ribbon wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. It shoots a spike of arousal through him and he sees a pulse of that pale light reach out for Lan Zhan.

”And—ah—how are the wards powered?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide, and without the ribbon, his scent blooms unhindered, calling out for Wei Wuxian. He leans down to press their foreheads together and hums, rubs his cheek on Lan Zhan’s temple, enjoying the spike in their scents.

”Through dual cultivation,” Lan Zhan says. 

His voice is low, a hoarse grumble that makes Wei Wuxian’s knees weak and his throat dry. He lets out a breathy sound he knows Lan Zhan can’t resist and grins when Lan Zhan’s hand spasms on his hip.

”So, how does this work? You’ll fuck me here?”

”Mn.”

”How long? Once? Twice?”

Lan Zhan narrows his eyes. ”As long as it takes.” And before Wei Wuxian realizes what’s happening, Lan Zhan has ripped their robes open and lowered their pants and then he yanks Wei Wuxian into his lap. He’s already hard, his hot shaft pressing against the bare cleft of Wei Wuxian’s behind.

”Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes. He gives his mate a mischievous look, reaches behind himself, and takes a hold of Lan Zhan’s cock. Its familiar, silky smooth heft feels grounding in his hand and when he rubs the head against his opening, they both hum at the feeling.

”Wei Ying—” Lan Zhan warns but it’s too late: Wei Wuxian takes a breath and then sinks down to Lan Zhan’s length in one go. It doesn’t matter they do this almost every day and that he’s wet, Lan Zhan’s girth never fails to burn and make his breath catch.

The pale light seeps through his skin again, pulsing brighter as he starts to slowly move, both of them careful about too sudden moves that would end things way too early. It takes even less time than usual for him to come and he shudders, whimpering into the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck as pleasure ebbs and flows inside him. Lan Zhan stays hard and it makes Wei Wuxian want to squirm. He’s restless and horny and while neither is anything new during their bedroom activities, this feels different. Almost like it’s a living thing, searching a way out and—

Oh. Right.

”What do we need to do?” He asks.

Their bound hands rest on his thigh and Lan Zhan’s other hand is rubbing a slow circle in the small of his back.

”Optimally…” he starts quietly and then stops with a sigh. ”The Cave prefers direct skin contact but it’s not compulsory.”

”It’s okay, I’ll just lie on my back then,” Wei Wuxian says. He’s not exactly thrilled to lie on a cold stone but, well.

”You will not,” Lan Zhan says flatly.

”Well, as much as I’d love to be able to ride you for the whole night, I can’t,” Wei Wuxian points out. ”So then what?”

”We’ll make do,” Lan Zhan says matter-of-factly.

He helps Wei Wuxian off his cock and then strips both their pants off before removing their robes as well as he can. He glares momentarily at their bound hands and then presses his lips together in a tight line, unwraps the ribbon from his own wrist, and quickly strips their robes off before tying their hands back together. 

”Come,” he says, kneeling on the altar.

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get them positioned comfortably but they manage. It’s perhaps Wei Wuxian’s favorite position: Lan Zhan on his knees and Wei Wuxian on his lap, leaning back against Lan Zhan’s chest and his head lolling on his shoulder. His legs are splayed on each side of Lan Zhan’s muscular thighs and their bound hands hold him steady; Lan Zhan’s right hand gripping his left.

He lets out a drawn-out whimper as Lan Zhan guides him down. When they’re like this, Lan Zhan can push deeper and sometimes it’s almost like he can feel Lan Zhan’s cock through his stomach and it never fails to make his blood boil.

Lan Zhan doesn’t wait after bottoming out. He starts thrusting, slow, meticulous, powerful strokes that leave Wei Wuxian light-headed and panting, and yet the thing inside him, the living, pulsing spiritual energy drawing from his old/new/reformed core keeps demanding more. He squirms and shivers and then lets out a hoarse cry when Lan Zhan holds him still with their bound hands and starts to fuck him in earnest. He soon loses all focus and coherent thought and merely lets himself roll in the sensations his body is experiencing: the tingling that sings through his bones, the fire banking in his lower dantian, the pulsing in his meridians, the scorching heat from Lan Zhan, the humming from the cave, the—

It takes him by surprise, the force that tears through him and he screams, gripping Lan Zhan’s arm with both hands as what feels like fire surges from Lan Zhan to his core and then back to Lan Zhan. Eyes wide, tears streaming down his face, he comes harder than he ever dreamed was possible. The last thing he sees before he passes out is how the walls light up with white light and the Cave sings.

”—Ying?”

”Hnnggh?”

”Nothing. Sleep now.”

When he pries his eyes open, he’s on his left side, snuggled against a familiar, firm chest. They’re still in the Cave and, apparently, on the altar. They’re resting on Lan Zhan’s outer robe and covered by his own, although Lan Zhan runs hot enough to keep them warm. Oh, and their hands are still bound.

”Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian whispers.

”Mn.”

”Just checking if you’re awake.”

”Mn. I haven’t slept.”

Wei Wuxian let out an exasperated sound. ”Please tell me you haven’t stayed up this whole time watching me?”

”Lying is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Zhan says primly, most likely just to hear the snort Wei Wuxian lets out.

”Look,” he says, starting to gingerly turn around. ”You could’ve just slept.” Pain slices across his back and he stifles a sigh. It probably was too much to ask to wish their dual cultivation to cure his broken body but alas.

”Mn. Didn’t want to,” Lan Zhan says, gathering Wei Wuxian close as he turns on his back. ”The Cave sang to me—to us.”

”It did? Huh, I thought I made it up,” he says rubbing his face against Lan Zhan’s chest before settling down. 

”How do you feel?” Lan Zhan asks after a moment.

”Sore,” Wei Wuxian replies and then continues before Lan Zhan has the chance to chide him. ”More settled. The frantic energy is gone—I guess we poured it out? Is that why the Cave sang?”

”Mn.”

”Interesting.” He falls silent for a moment, tapping the fingers of his unbound hand against Lan Zhan’s side. ”So, does this mean all Lan Elders come here with their mates? Did your brother come here with A-Yao?” He pauses. ”Or…not. A-Yao’s cultivation is so low compared to Xichen-ge’s that he would’ve burned out.”

”Mn.”

”Huh,” Wei Wuxian muses, and then his fingers freeze. ”Wait. You said main family.”

”Mn.”

”There is no other main family than Grand Master, Xichen, and you.”

”Mn.”

”And since your parents probably never came here…”

Lan Zhan hums. ”They did. The first time.”

”They mated here?” Wei Wuxian says, incredulous.

”Mn.”

”Wow.” That means Madam Lan had even more balls than Wei Wuxian would’ve originally thought because not only did she induce them both, she made them come here of all places. Then again, if the Cold Pond Cave is the nexus and anchor of the Cloud Recesses’ defensive wards, it sort of made sense she would want to make sure they were powered up before she and Qingheng-jun were locked away.

But that still meant the wards were left to, well, fend for themselves for a long, long time. No wonder they sang when they were finally fed.

”So, what now?” He asks. ”Do we need to go again? I might need a moment.”

Lan Zhan huffs and his scent blooms with amusement. Right, no ribbon yet, it was still around their wrists. ”No. The wards are brimming with power. The Cave is content.”

”Oh, good,” Wei Wuxian breathes out. ”Not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s just…that was a lot.”

”Mn.”

”Is it going to be like that from now on? Do we have to come here every day? I don’t mind passing out but the stone altar is a bit much…”

”Only when we are learning to dual cultivate.”

”Oh, well, that’s a relief. It would’ve taken the spontaneity out of it.”

”Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan huffs fondly.

Wei Wuxian grins and carefully pushes himself up to look Lan Zhan in the eyes. 

In his wide, golden eyes.

”Wei Ying—!”

”Your eyes!”

Lan Zhan blinks. ”My eyes?”

”Yeah! Your eyes have changed colors!”

”As have yours.”

”What?” He says, a bit—or a lot—hysterically.

”Your eyes are grey now,” Lan Zhan says, bewildered. ”Or silver.”

”Yours are golden, Lan Zhan, what the fuck?”

”I don’t know,” Lan Zhan says. ”How do you feel?”

”I don’t know!” He wails. ”Normal?”

”Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says and sits up, calmly moving Wei Wuxian to straddle his lap. ”Breathe.”

”I—am—breathing!” He snaps back while gasping for breath. ”Ohfffuck.”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says and then presses their foreheads together, holds Wei Wuxian’s hand against his chest, and breathes with him. It’s a technique they learned some while ago and so far, it’s proven useful when dealing with his nightmares. 

It’s proving useful now.

”Sorry,” Wei Wuxian mutters after he finally feels like he’s able to breathe normally again.

”No need,” Lan Zhan says. ”How do you feel?”

He takes a breath and another, and then takes stock of himself. The familiar aches and pains, the way his thighs and behind throb, how his spiritual pathways run, and how his core spins. It’s lazy and content now, like a kitten that’s been fed too well and who now doesn’t bother with playing. The burning, restless need is gone and the heat under his skin has settled into comforting, simmering embers.

And then there’s something…something…

He frowns and cocks his head, reaching out for that shimmering strand of something, running from his core to somewhere else—no, someone else—

He opens his eyes, shocked, and looks at Lan Zhan.

”What—how—”

”I don’t know,” Lan Zhan says, eyes full of wonder. ”But we are now bonded.”

”Yeah,” Wei Wuxian whispers as his throat closes up. He’d thought they’d never get this, never be bonded because of his broken body, and now… The bond that shimmers between them might seem fragile at a first glance (or poke, whatever), but there’s strength there, tenacity. It’s stronger than anything he’s ever sensed before and it makes him ridiculously happy.

”We’re bonded,” he whispers.

”Mn.”

”Lan Zhan, we’re bonded!” He repeats with a grin. ”Bonded!”

He cradles their bound hands against his chest and squeezes his free hand around his mate (his bonded!), presses his face against the soft skin under Lan Zhan’s jaw, and bursts into tears.

After he gathers his dignity (and clothes), they start their way back. Lan Zhan has put his ribbon back on—because apparently, it’s not needed now that they’re bonded (bonded!)—and the passageway opens smoothly under their palms. This time, the way through the rock doesn’t feel as suffocating but Wei Wuxian is still keenly aware of the immense weight of the mountain surrounding them from all sides.

When they emerge into the bright sunlight, a small group of people is waiting for them, Wen Qing at the front. Behind her pinch-worried face, Wei Wuxian sees Xichen’s familiar faint smile and, to his surprise, Lan Qiren and one of the less sour-faced Elders. Lan…Deming? Something like that. Lan Bolin is, as usual, a silent sentinel a little apart from the others.

”Uh,” he says and blinks at the bright light.

”How do you feel?” Wen Qing asks right away, taking his wrist. 

”Perfect,” he says and flashes him a grin. ”Dual cultivation is awesome,” he breathes and leans back against Lan Zhan, not because he still feels like his legs are limp noodles but because Lan Zhan is conveniently there. 

Xichen stifles a snort. ”I’m happy to hear the Cave helped,” he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. ”Wangji?”

Lan Zhan inclines his head. ”We are fine, Brother.”

”The wards have never been this strong,” Elder Lan says, looking somewhere in between Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan. ”Your contribution to the safety of the Cloud Recesses is commendable.”

”Ah, haha, thanks?” Wei Wuxian says, watching slightly bewildered as the Elder bows before turning and walking down the path.

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says. ”This should further point out Wei Ying’s value to Gusu Lan,” he adds coolly.

My what? Wei Wuxian wonders as Wen Qing checks him over.

Xichen nods. ”It will be added to the agreement, yes.”

Before Wei Wuxian has the chance to ask what the fuck was going on, Lan Qiren clears his throat. ”Wangji, Wuxian,” he says somewhat stiffly. ”You both have been excused from your duties today and tomorrow. Use the time to rest and…meditate as you see fit. I have informed the kitchens. Congratulations to you both.” Without further ado, he bows, turns, and leaves.

After a moment of silence, Wei Wuxian asks, ”What just happened?”

”The Cave has recognized your union and, therefore, made all arguments against you obsolete,” Xichen says and then he, too, bows. ”Congratulations on your bond,” he says with a genuine smile. ”It’s not perhaps the most conventional but it suits you.”

”And what’s that supposed to mean?” Wei Wuxian asks, bewildered, as Xichen follows Lan Qiren down the path, leaving Wen Qing, Lan Zhan, and him alone.

”What do you think?” Wen Qing says dryly. ”Well, everything seems to be alright,” she continues as she takes a step back and gives them both an appraising once-over. ”Go get some rest and eat. If you can’t keep your hands off of each other, feel free to have sex but don’t dual cultivate again today. It would probably be too much for Wei Wuxian.”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says and promptly picks Wei Wuxian in his arms.

”Lan Zhan!” He yelps.

”I’m taking you home now,” Lan Zhan says with a nod at Wen Qing.

”Silly alpha,” Wei Wuxian huffs but nuzzles his face against Lan Zhan’s anyway. His answer is a barely audible, pleased rumble, and Wei Wuxian settles in his arms with a contented sigh.

As the Jingshi appears from behind the bushes, the barely noticeable falter in Lan Zhan’s steps makes Wei Wuxian look up to see Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli waiting for them. Jiang Yanli is sitting on the porch with a familiar basket next to her while Jiang Cheng prowls back and forth in front of her like a caged tiger. When he hears them approach, his head shoots up and Wei Wuxian can feel his narrow-eyed stare zeroing in on him.

”Where have you—” he starts and then his eyes go wide. ”Wei Wuxian, what the fuck happened to your eyes?”

”Um, surprise?” Wei Wuxian says with a sheepish smile.

”What,” Jiang Cheng says in a flat voice as his eyes dart to Lan Zhan and then he does a double-take. ”What the fuck did you do?”

”What makes you think I did something?” Wei Wuxian asks as he feels Lan Zhan grow stiff and his hands clench on where he’s holding on to Wei Wuxian.

”Is it a side-effect of dual cultivation?” Shijie asks as she steps forward. ”Your eyes are beautiful, A-Xian,” she breathes with a smile. ”And yours as well, Wangji.”

”Thank you,” Lan Zhan says.

”So, apparently we’re bonded now?” Wei Wuxian says, feeling suddenly emotional.

”Oh!” Shijie gasps and presses her hands on her mouth. ”That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you both, congratulations!” Her eyes are brimming with tears and as soon as Lan Zhan gently sets Wei Wuxian on his feet, she rushes to give him a hug. ”Oh, A-Xian,” she whispers into his ear. ”You worried for nothing.” She kisses him on the cheek and wipes her eyes as she lets him go. ”I would like to hug you, too, Wangji, if you allow it,” she says and when Lan Zhan nods, she gives him a tight hug as well.

Jiang Cheng huffs and then hugs Wei Wuxian hard enough to leave bruises before shoving him to arm’s length. ”They look weird,” he says gruffly and then turns his narrow-eyed focus on Lan Zhan. ”And don’t think this makes the marriage agreement null. If nothing else, this makes Wei Wuxian even more important.”

”I know,” Lan Zhan says icily.

”Good,” Jiang Cheng snaps.

”Mn.” Lan Zhan’s tone is frosty enough to make water freeze. 

Jiang Cheng brushes his palm down the immaculate front of his robes. ”Fine. I’ll be off to renegotiate the agreement,” he says and glances at Wei Wuxian from the corner of his eye. ”I’ll stop by tomorrow before lunch. We need to work on your sword forms.” Then he leaves, back straight and head held high.

Shijie shakes her head. ”We were slightly taken aback when the sky above the Cloud Recesses blazed brighter than the sun for a moment, but then Zewu-jun kindly informed us that it was due to your—” her lips twitch, ”—efforts.”

”Shijie,” Wei Wuxian whines, his cheeks flaming red. It’s one thing to know your siblings had been informed you were about to have energetic sex, but completely another thing to hear your own sister reference to what basically was your and your mate’s combined orgasm. 

That’s utterly mortifying.

Shijie’s laughter rings out like small silver bells. ”Come, eat. I made you soup.”

Despite Wen Qing’s permission, they don’t have sex. Something about the dual cultivation experience has left them both wiped and with a need to just be close. So, Lan Zhan draws them a bath and they spend a long time in the warm water, then eat what is a lavish meal by the Lan standards before retiring to bed. Their new bond thrums between them, contented and strong, and Wei Wuxian falls asleep listening to how it pulses in tune with their heartbeats.

The next morning, after they’d shared breakfast and indulged in brushing each other’s hair, he meditates while Lan Zhan plays his guqin. His core is still mellow and calm and he loses himself in the easy exercises old Teacher Yu taught him what feels like a lifetime ago.

He feels Jiang Cheng’s approach before he hears it, his alpha presence like a dissonant chord in the middle of the Cloud Recesses’ harmony and gets up to greet his shidi. Lan Zhan agrees to stay inside with only minimal cajoling (that is, with a lot of kisses and promises of more), so Wei Wuxian takes his sword replacement cane and steps outside.

”What the fuck is that?” Jiang Cheng asks as soon as he sees the cane in his hand.

”Honestly, I’m not really sure?” Wei Wuxian says, twirling the cane like Chenqing. ”Lan Qiren gave it to me a short while ago.”

”Let me see,” Jiang Cheng says and holds his hand out. 

Wei Wuxian shrugs and hands it out, curious about what Jiang Cheng will say about it.

Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes and examines the cane, holds it like a sword, tests its balance, straightness, and the silky-strong feel of it. He takes a step to the side and moves to the Jiang sword forms, going through their basic warming-up exercises without holding back. The cane stays straight, acting like an incredibly light sword, moving with his precise, aggressive stances with ease. It lets out no sound as it slices through the air, and Wei Wuxian barely feels it when Jiang Cheng moves to slash the air next to his cheek.

”Hm,” he grunts when he’s done. ”I’m not sure what they’ve done with it but it’s surprisingly…usable.”

”High praise indeed,” Wei Wuxian says and grins. ”Want to spar?”

Jiang Cheng snorts. ”And have your mate run me through with his sword? I’ll pass.” When Wei Wuxian pouts, he rolls his eyes and huffs. ”But I’ll guide you through the exercises. Heavens know you’ll need all the help you can get after being lazy for ages.”

”Aiyah, do you mean I’m out of shape?”

”Yes,” Jiang Cheng says brusquely. ”Stop whining. First form!”

They fall into the familiar pattern of sword training. It’s been ages since Wei Wuxian was on the receiving end of teaching but he enjoys it. Jiang Cheng loves to roll his eyes at him and order him around but he does it with surprisingly gentle hands and his scowl is so pronounced because he’s worried. Under the layers of the base scent Wei Wuxian knows like his own, is worry and profound relief. He knows better than to mention it, though. 

When Wei Wuxian’s hand starts to tremble, the cane amplifies the tremor instead of stabilizing it like his sword. Huh—apparently, whatever Lan Qiren did to the cane makes it impossible for him to push himself too far. Curious. They stop and Jiang Cheng hovers until Wei Wuxian sits down on the porch. As soon as they settle down, the door behind them opens quietly and Lan Zhan steps out with tea and a blanket. He sets the tray down next to him and wraps the blanket around him, kisses the top of his head, and returns inside without a word.

Jiang Cheng watches it all from the corner of his eye. ”Are you really okay with all of this?” He asks quietly as he pours tea. It’s the dark, strong kind Wei Wuxian likes, and Lan Zhan imports it from Yunmeng just for him.

”With what?”

Jiang Cheng glances up. ”This,” he says. ”You powering the wards. Your eyes. You being tied here. That alpha following you around.”

”Why wouldn’t I be?” Wei Wuxian asks, genuinely confused. ”It’s not like I’m a prisoner here. And Lan Bolin…I don’t really know why he keeps following me around but it’s kind of like having an uncle keeping an eye on me?” Which is a bit weird, considering Lan Bolin is probably only a couple of years older than him. ”Look, Jiang Cheng, my body is still fucked up and I fucked it up even more with the journal—and you don’t have to yell at me, Shijie already scolded me and it was awful—but when I’m better, I can travel. I’d like to travel.” He falls silent for a moment, thinking back on the memory of him and his mom and dad on the road. 

He wonders if he could have that with Lan Zhan and A-Yuan. It would be nice.

Jiang Cheng harrumphs. ”As long as you remember that you’re still the Head Disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. So you better recover and come back to teach the new disciples.” He stares into the distance and clenches his jaw, not bothering to hide the wetness in his eyes.

Wei Wuxian leans into him. ”No worries, Chengcheng. I’ll come back and teach the new kids how to steal lotus pods.”

His brother huffs but he gently leans back.

They sit in silence for a time, enjoying the stillness and the tea.

And then, ”I can’t believe I’m protected by Lan Wangji’s dick,” Jiang Cheng mutters out of the blue, disgusted.

Wei Wuxian inhales half of his tea and laughs and coughs until tears stream from his eyes.

From the moment she was born, it had been clear she would never be a strong cultivator. She was sickly as a child and when she finally overcame her physical hindrances, she already had two brothers to look after. There simply was no time to meditate or train her core when she had to dry tears from dirty cheeks and soothe down a panicked heart after yet another nightmare. 

So, she did what she knew best: she loved.

She poured her love and concern into the tea she brewed, the buns she baked, and the lotus seeds she peeled. She sprinkled it on top of the congee she cooked when Father had a sore throat and let it direct her hand when she cut fruit into delicate flowers she knew Mother liked even though she never said it aloud. Love was the secret ingredient in her soup and what she added into the herbal mix she placed to the medical pouches for the Jiang disciples before a night-hunt. 

Father didn’t see. Mother didn’t quite approve. A-Xian and A-Cheng didn’t understand.

Jiang Yanli didn’t let it bother her.

After all, the way of the sword wasn’t the only way to cultivate.

•••

It soon became painfully clear just how much she was needed. 

Mother and Father existed in the same space but never quite saw eye to eye, passing each other like ships through the fog, blind but wishing to be seen. Mother bristled in the confinements that were more of her own making than Father’s, while Father flinched from the formidable woman who was as beautiful as she was sharp like a knife, always ready to lash out.

Her brothers reached out for her like flowers to the sun. They were openly eager for each smile and kiss when they were younger but as time went by, A-Cheng grew sullen and closed himself off, always believing he was lacking next to A-Xian who then believed he had to be even louder, brighter, faster, smarter to remind everyone that he still existed, he still proved his worth, was still allowed to stay.

And Yanli tried. 

Oh, she knew Mother and Father were a lost cause, too locked up in their years of misunderstandings and bitterness that hid the more tender touches and genuine care but she still could make a difference with her brothers. It was frustrating and endearing and sometimes just plain exhausting but she couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her when she saw the way A-Cheng and A-Xian interacted, bickering with each other but presenting a united front when needed. 

She hoped that when the time was right, whoever they chose to spend their lives with would also appreciate their bond that, while special, was often incomprehensible to strangers.

When Young Master Lan caught A-Xian’s eye, she thought her work was done. A-Cheng claimed Lan Young Master Lan hated the way A-Xian orbited around him but she saw the way his eyes followed A-Xian with burning intensity, how his ears grew hot and how his hand clenched around his sword. It truly made her believe that A-Xian had finally found an alpha worthy of him. So, when it all ended up in disaster, Yanli couldn’t understand what had happened. A-Xian hadn’t done anything wrong—sure, he’d been too open by the Lan standards but his behavior still didn’t warrant Teacher Lan expelling him! And what she witnessed of Young Master Lan’s behavior (he yelled! At his brother and uncle!) didn’t match up with the hateful words Teacher Lan threw at A-Xian.

None of it made any sense and Yanli’s heart hurt for her brother.

•••

What followed was a period she didn’t want to think about too closely. Everything seemed dimmer with A-Xian gone and Yanli concentrated even harder than before on supporting A-Cheng. 

(She would’ve very easily stopped trying to love Mother if not for that one, late evening when she’d met Mother in the kitchen. Mother poured her tea and said in a softer voice than she’d ever heard from her, ”Don’t lose hope, A-Li. Your brothers need you.” Then she’d drunk her tea and stood up, and for the briefest of moments, her hand gripped Yanli’s shoulder. ”Both of them,” she’d said. And then she’d left, leaving behind a pot of excellent tea and a bewildered Yanli who slowly brought her hand to where Mother’s had been.)

What mattered was that, in the end, A-Xian was alive and…if not well, at least getting better. And in the end, Lan Wangji was worthy of him.

In the end…

In the end. Was that the end? 

She had a feeling this was not yet the end.

•••

Dearest Zixuan,

Thank you for your letter. I’m glad to hear the general uproar in Lanling is slowly settling down. I can’t even imagine how it must feel like, to be at the center of such attention but I am glad you have your mother next to you. As you know, our mothers were sworn sisters and dear friends and whenever my mother talked about your mother, I saw fierce pride and love shining in her eyes. She truly appreciated her and their friendship and I’m certain she would’ve been overjoyed to see your mother in a position that clearly belongs to her. 

What comes to your invitation to visit, I have to ask Jiang Cheng when it would be possible. No, don’t make that face, Zixuan, you know just as well as I do that he doesn’t dictate my life. It’s simply that there’s so much going on; rebuilding, drawing contracts and alliance agreements with other sects, looking after our people, not to mention cleaning up the mess in Qishan. And, as you are well aware, while Sect Leader Jiang is away, I’m the one in charge of Lotus Pier. As much as it would bring me joy to drop everything to spend time with you, I can’t.

But as soon as we get the schedules cleared, I’d be delighted to visit—especially when you’ve been dropping hints of something special you’ve prepared for me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, A-Xuan.

Speaking of hints, I made some discreet inquiries on your behalf. I completely understand you don’t want to bother your mother with this. She has a lot to worry about and reminding her of past insults would be most unkind, no matter how noble the idea behind the action is. So far, I’ve located two, of which one is easy and the other is…complicated. I have an idea of a suitable relocation but that decision isn’t mine to make. Please, let me know how you’d like me to proceed or if you’d rather wait and observe the situation as is.

I hope you’re taking as good care of yourself as you are of your mother. Please, give her my greetings.

Yours,

Yanli

PS. I thought of you while I painted the picture of a sunset over Yunmeng lake. If this gift is too forward, don’t think too harshly of me—I just miss you.

•••

On several occasions, Yanli scolded herself for being an unfilial daughter but she couldn’t quite help it. She knew Mother better than to expect comfort or soft words but on a rare occasion when Madam Jin was the one to console her after yet another rude encounter with Zixuan, she wished Mother was a bit more like her. Not much, just enough to cup her cheek or just to keep her sharp words to herself. She would’ve given a lot for an approving nod or a proud smile no matter how out of character they would’ve been. 

Sometimes, she wondered if her weakness was something Mother blamed herself for, something she couldn’t forgive herself. Was that the reason why Mother was so sharp, why she was so hard on A-Cheng, why she pushed A-Xian so relentlessly? Did she think that Yanli’s softness was an error she would correct with A-Cheng and A-Xian? Did Mother think a hint of softness would ruin her, too?

And yet, there came the time when she was fervently happy she was her mother’s daughter: Yu Ziyuan was unflinching in her fury, stubborn in her beliefs, and demanded at least as much from herself as she did from others. That iron core was what saw Yanli through the time when her home was decimated, through the agonizing months of A-Xian’s recovery, through the purging of Jinlintai. 

People looked at Yanli and saw something soft and vulnerable.

They were wrong.

•••

Of course, there were times when Yanli would’ve loved for her temper to be a little less gently understanding and to possess Mother’s glass-sharp ruthlessness instead. For example, when one of Zixuan’s cousins made yet another derogatory comment about omegas during dinner, but at least seeing Zixuan punch them was highly satisfying. Or when A-Cheng destroyed yet another set of training dummies because he was too scared to tell Sect Leader Nie about his needs. Or when A-Xian was genuinely confused about the marriage contract Yunmeng Jiang was dead-set on insisting on him having.

But since she was…well, she was just Yanli, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let the air out in a slow, controlled stream. Then she made sure to kiss Zixuan properly to know she appreciated his gesture and fussed over his swollen knuckles, silently enjoying the dazed look in his eyes. 

She gently bullied A-Cheng into writing to Sect Leader Nie and then complained to Huaisang about brothers too stubborn for their own good, knowing he knew exactly what she was talking about.

And she sighed, shook her head, poured A-Xian tea generously infused with all her love, and told him he was an idiot.

Wei Wuxian stares at the scroll with wide eyes.

The people around him have clearly lost their minds.

”You’re insane,” he says and looks up. ”This—this is insane.”

”If you wish to add more conditions, we’re happy to accommodate you,” Xichen says serenely. 

MORE?

How can there be more conditions? The contract is already ridiculously extensive, outlining things he hasn’t even thought about and—

Like, for example: ’All inventions Wei Wuxian makes are and stay implicitly his property. If Gusu Lan Sect wants to use Wei Wuxian’s inventions, appropriate compensation must be paid. A discount can be separately negotiated if Wei Wuxian sees it necessary.’ (A footnote: no, being married to Lan Wangji isn’t a valid reason.)

And, ’Wei Wuxian stays as a member of Yunmeng Jiang and, as such, is not required to live full-time in The Cloud Recesses. Private quarters for him and his mate will be provided in both Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier.’

And, trade routes and night-hunt rights and intellectual property and taxes and talisman distribution rights… The list goes on and on.

Yeah. Sect Leader Lan is insane.

He looks up at his mate. ”Lan Zhan?”

”Mn. The contract is…acceptable,” Lan Zhan says somehow conveying an air of smugness with a completely thick face.

”But—but it doesn’t make any sense?”

Xichen frowns. ”Which part? If the wording is unclear, we’ll clarify.”

”No, I mean…all of it. The whole thing.” Wei Wuxian waves his hand in a vague all-encompassing motion, winces at the way it pulls at his shoulder, and sags against Lan Zhan. ”The contract! It makes no sense! Why—all of that—what?” He finally settles with, feeling a hysterical laughter bubbling somewhere inside of him. 

”Oh, this will get your tongue all tied up?” Jiang Cheng snaps from where he’s glaring at the drafted marriage contract. He grits his jaw and turns his narrowed eyes to him. ”You,” he says, ”are an idiot. But that’s nothing new, you’ve always been an idiot.”

Lan Zhan stiffens and Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to glance up to see his eyes have gone icy.

”Oh, don’t give me that look, Lan Wangji, we’ve been over this,” Jiang Chen snaps. ”Besides, you agree with me.”

”I absolutely do not,” Lan Zhan says flatly.

Jiang Cheng ignores him. ”You are Yunmeng Jiang, Wei Wuxian. In the sect records, you are still our Head Disciple. And most importantly, you are our brother. If you think I won’t fight tooth and nail to get you the contract you rightfully deserve, I’ll disown you.”

”That seems counterproductive,” Wei Wuxian mutters. 

”Shut up,” Jiang Cheng snarls.

Wei Wuxian shuts up.

”But your value goes beyond being family,” Jiang Cheng grits out. ”You are a fucking genius. You probably could invent a whole new way of cultivation if you felt like it. I’m not sure anyone besides Meng Yao and Huaisang understands how your mind works but it works and it’s a thing of terrible beauty and batshit crazy. So, yeah, you deserve a ridiculously extensive and detailed marriage contract because you’re our brother but you deserve it at least just as much because you deserve it. Because you are just that fucking brilliant and any sect should be overjoyed to have you.” (The ominous ’…or else’  is left unsaid but is heard loud and clear.)

”Uh,” Wei Wuxian says.

There are two bright red spots burning on Jiang Cheng’s cheeks and he sniffs once and glances a bit to the side. Then he straightens his spine, looks at Lan Zhan with piercing intensity, and says, ”Congratulations. He’s your headache now.” 

And then he stomps out, head held high.

Wei Wuxian feels like crying. Or laughing? Or should he be laughing and crying at the same time?

”You and your brother have a fascinating relationship,” Xichen murmurs.

”Yeah,” he says and leans on Lan Zhan, and if his voice sounds a bit strangled, no one mentions it.

Xichen smiles and turns to give a critical eye on the scroll, reads it through with a slight frown, and adds a couple of notes Lan Qiren approves with a nod. As he’s rolling the scroll up, a disciple arrives and knocks on the door.

”My apologies, Sect Leader,” they say with a bow. ”We have visitors. Lan-furen is already on his way to meet them by the gate.”

”I haven’t received any message on visitors,” Xichen says, confused. ”Uncle?” 

Lan Qiren shakes his head. ”Neither have I.”

The disciple bows again. ”They said—” They frown, perplexed. ”They said they didn’t send a note but they knew it was time to come, and then they asked me to describe them to you: one in black robes, one in white, and one in purple. The one in white has a blindfold over his eyes.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. ”Lan Zhan!” He gasps gripping the arm curled around him. 

”Mn.”

With an uncharacteristic hurry, Xichen tucks the rolled-up scroll on the shelf next to his desk and sweeps out of the room with Lan Qiren, Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian following at a more careful pace. Despite the no gossiping rule, there are groups of disciples milling around, talking in hushed voices and ducking their heads when they meet Lan Qiren’s scowl.

They’re halfway down the path when Zhiqiang swoops down from the sky, circles twice around them, and lands on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. The owl sways slightly as he balances, flaring his wings like two puffs of black smoke as he settles down. Wei Wuxian leans his head into him for a moment, nuzzling at the cold-wrong plumage, grinning when the owl pecks once at his temple in annoyance.

Their visitors are waiting just inside the gate. They have been invited inside—barely—but not let further up. (Unknown to the rest of the cultivation world, the Cloud Recesses’ defensive dome doesn’t have just one layer like most sects. It has an inner dome as well, acting as the last line of defense. It’s been inoperative for eons due to the lack of strong enough dual cultivators to power it up. Until Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan, that is.) They stand calmly—or at least the adults do, a statue in black and another in white. The purple girl is huffing slightly to the side, swinging her cane around. As soon as they emerge from around the curve on the path, all three turn to them: the black-robed man’s eyes flit from Xichen to Wei Wuxian and then to Zhiqiang on his shoulder and he blinks. The one in white cocks his head slightly and his lips draw into a small, pleased smile. And the girl in purple robes stops and directs the wide stare of her milky white eyes to somewhere above Wei Wuxian’s head.

”Well, that explains some things,” the man in black says, inclining his head at Zhiqiang. ”My apologies for harming your spiritual companion, Wei Wuxian,” he says and bows.

Wei Wuxian blinks. ”Uh…you know who I am?” He asks and then continues, ”And don’t worry about it, Zhiqiang is fine.”

”Song Lan,” the man in white chides gently in a soft voice. He bows, his movements fluid like a beautiful dance, and says, ”It’s an honor to finally meet you, Wei Wuxian. I am Xiao Xingchen, your shixiong. This brooding one is Song Lan, and the little menace is A-Qing.”

”Who are you calling a menace?” The girl demands, directing a scowl in Xiao Xingchen’s general direction.

”Only the ones who deserve the title,” Xiao Xingchen says, amused.

As they bow in return, Wei Wuxian can’t quite help but to send a small tendril of his scent over, distractedly taking notice that Xiao Xingchen is an alpha and Song Lan a beta (A-Qing is also an alpha which is absolutely not a surprise), and then nearly rears back in shock when Xiao Xingchen gently pokes him back. He can’t quite hold back a gasp and sees Xiao Xingchen’s lips quirk.

”What?” A-Qing says, suspicion all over her face. She cocks her head at Xiao Xingchen and then whirls around to face Wei Wuxian—only to come face to face with Jiang Cheng who somehow has materialized right in front of his brother, shielding him behind his back. Wei Wuxian wants to sigh fondly. 

”Who the fuck are you?” She demands what Wei Wuxian considers a bold move when facing Sect Leader Jiang whose temper famously rivals that of his late mother. Perhaps it’s because she’s blind?

”Who the fuck are you?” Jiang Cheng snaps back, Zidian crackling on his finger.

A-Qing’s eyes go wide. ”I’m just a blind girl you’re trying to bully—”

”Bullshit,” Jiang Cheng snorts. ”Try again.”

A-Qing pouts.

”What makes you say that?” Xiao Xingchen asks, genuinely curious.

”The esteemed Xiao Xingchen might be blind,” Jiang Cheng says, inclining his head, ”but this young miss? Not so much. First, your eyes followed that damned owl when it flew over you. Second, when you saw my brother, your eyes went wide and you whispered, and I quote, ”Holy shit.” And third, you keep sneaking glances at Zidian.” He smirks. ”I grew up with a master bullshitter, kid. You have nothing on him.”

”Aww, he said a nice thing about me,” Wei Wuxian whispers to Lan Zhan and gets a fondly exasperated huff as a reward.

Xiao Xingchen inclines his head. ”Sect Leader Jiang is indeed as sharp of mind as he is of tongue. Your bluff has been called, A-Qing.”

The girl scoffs and stomps to stand next to Xiao Xingchen, crosses her arms on her chest, and glares at Jiang Cheng who levels an unimpressed stare at her. Their postures are so alike that Wei Wuxian bites his cheek to stop himself from cooing.

”The Cloud Recesses welcomes you all,” Meng Yao interjects smoothly. ”You must be exhausted from your travels. Would you like to take a moment to freshen up?”

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen look at each other, clearly communicating despite Xiao Xingchen’s blindness.

”No,” Song Lan says. ”We need to talk.”

They gather in Lan Qiren’s office, including Jiang Cheng who sets his jaw and dares anyone to question his place in the meeting and Zhiqiang who hunches slightly on his perch on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. A-Qing trails in after Xiao Xingchen and then sits down, imperiously ignoring the room. Meng Yao pretends to not see Lan Qiren’s disapproving frown and sends for tea and ”a little something to eat” which, in all honesty, could be anything from loquats to a full meal (Wei Wuxian doesn’t understand how he does it). It takes a moment for all of them to settle and then Meng Yao and Xiao Xingchen try to out-polite each other which is hilarious, but when they’re finally seated and have had a polite conversation over tea and small, filled buns, Song Lan clears his throat.

”I would like to request additional privacy talismans,” he says, offering no explanation.

Xichen shares a quick look with Lan Zhan and nods. Without a further word, they draw up simple but powerful privacy talismans and send them on each wall with a flick of their fingers. Wei Wuxian shrugs and, for a good measure, adds in the newest rendition of what he calls an anti-sneaking-around-talisman, ducking his head when Lan Zhan gives him a fond look.

”Thank you,” Song Lan says and inclines his head.

”You must be wondering why we arrived without notice,” Xiao Xingchen says. ”We apologize for that but we weren’t sure if we could risk announcing ourselves, especially after what happened in the Pan’an plains.”

”We didn’t know the owl was Young Master Wei’s spiritual companion,” Song Lan adds, apologetically.

He winces. ”Sorry about that. It’s not—I don’t send him out to spy on people. He goes where he wants to and tells me stuff when he feels like it.”

”If anything, we should apologize to him,” Xiao Xingchen says with a small smile. ”We will make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Zhiqiang lets out an embarrassed huff-gurgle and shifts. If there’s a way for a mass of resentment to appear bashful, well, that’s what he’s doing right now, Wei Wuxian thinks, amused.

Xiao Xingchen’s smile widens for a moment before he lets out a long breath and with it, the smile drains away. He stays silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then he shakes his head. ”There’s no easy way to explain this, so I’m just going to tell it as it happened.

”While I know our names might be familiar to some of you, I don’t presume you know more of us. So, let me start with an introduction: My name is Xiao Xingchen and my companion is Song Lan, courtesy Zichen, and we are rogue cultivators, roaming the land without ties to any sect, great or small. Our young companion is A-Qing. She’s not a cultivator but special in her own way.

”I was raised and trained in the celestial mountain of the Immortal Baoshan Sanren. To my teacher’s great displeasure,” his lips draw to a wry smile, ”I decided to leave the mountain because I wanted to put my skills to better use than just cultivate for my ascension. Immortality has never been my goal, not when there are people who need help, and neither have I ever felt the need to align myself with a sect.

”Song Lan shares my views. We wished to start a sect based on shared ideals instead of bloodlines and after years of wandering, we thought we’d met another to share our dream with.” He inclines his head slightly. ”We were wrong.”

”Have you ever come across a rogue cultivator named Xue Yang?” Song Lan asks in a tight voice. ”Or Xue Chengmei, he sometimes goes by that.”

”Not that I can recall,” Xichen says. ”But the name Xue sounds vaguely familiar.” He glances at Lan Qiren who strokes his beard and presses his lips together with a slight shake of his head.

”Hopefully you’ll never cross paths with him,” Song Lan says bluntly. ”He has a penchant for cruelty and poisons, not a good combination.”

”Uh…” Wei Wuxian says with a creeping sense of doom. ”Does he happen to be an omega?”

Xiao Xingchen’s head snaps up. ”You know of him?”

”Ah, no. But I think Madam Yu ran into him back in the day. And—” He stops and swallows, ducks his head, and reaches out to grab Lan Zhan’s hand.

”Wei Ying?” He asks in a low voice.

”Ezhou. I think.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer but his nostrils flare and his fury bleeds through his control, strong enough for Xichen’s eyes to widen with worry.

”Ezhou— wait, that’s when someone drugged you?” Jiang Cheng says through gritted teeth. ”Fucker.” 

Lan Qiren’s face goes slightly pinched but he doesn’t remind Jiang Cheng of his language.

”A thoroughly unpleasant individual then,” Meng Yao interjects smoothly, pouring more tea. ”Am I correct to assume he had something to do with the current condition of both Daozhang Xiao and Miss A-Qing?

”You would be right,” Xiao Xingchen says. ”Xue Yang is—was—a complicated individual.”

”Don’t excuse his actions,” Song Lan says tightly.

”I’m not,” Xiao Xingchen says mildly. ”Recognizing his intellect and where he comes from doesn’t excuse his actions. We’ve been over this, Zichen. Understanding doesn’t equal acceptance.”

Song Lan doesn’t reply, merely scowls at his hands on his lap.

Xiao Xingchen sips his tea. ”We first came across him in a small town southwest of Jianglin after taking care of an insistent bat yaoguai problem in the area. He was arguing with a street vendor about the price of his purchase, claiming he didn’t have the money and that the vendor had upped the price without a reason. Something about him resonated with me but back then I thought it was merely an omega in distress. I would later learn it was something…not quite that. 

”To cut a long tale shorter, Xue Yang traveled with us for some time. He was a strong cultivator, a witty companion, but he had a cruel streak he liked to entertain and, well.” Xiao Xingchen’s smile turns sharp. ”He didn’t understand the relationship between Song Lan and me.”

Song Lan scoffs. ”He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that you, an alpha, chose me, a beta, and left him, an omega to lick his fingers.”

”Oh,” Xichen says.

”Did he try to…” Wei Wuxian’s voice trails away.

”Drug me?” Xiao Xingchen asks. ”Yes. He failed.” He must feel Wei Wuxian’s open-mouthed stare as he shrugs and says wryly, ”Being a disciple of the Immortal Baoshan Sanren has its perks.”

”Didn’t help you to keep your eyes, though,” A-Qing mutters under her breath, her mouth full of savory bun. She’s being incredibly rude but apparently that’s something her companions are used to because Xiao Xingchen merely shakes his head.

”Indeed it didn’t,” he says. ”We truly thought cutting ties with him would be enough but it wasn’t. His interest—” (”Obsession,” Song Lan mutters under his breath,) ”—in me was far greater than we originally thought, as was his need for vengeance.”

”In hindsight, he set us a trap and we walked straight into it,” Song Lan grumbles. ”We followed a trail of strange demonic possessions that led us back to the Baixue Temple where I was raised and trained. We—” He lets out a long breath and shakes his head. ”We were too late.”

A silence falls for a moment as both cultivators take a moment to collect themselves.

”Did he take your eyes?” Wei Wuxian quietly asks Xiao Xingchen.

The alpha’s lips draw into a self-deprecating smile. ”No,” he says in a soft, sad voice. ”I did that myself.” He turns to look at Song Lan who closes his eyes and ducks his head like in terrible pain. And yet, Xiao Xingchen’s hand finds his cheek, brushing his fingers along his skin with such tenderness that Wei Wuxian averts his eyes. From the corner of his eye, he notices he’s not the only one trying to give the couple a semblance of privacy.

”Xingchen-ge gave Zichen-ge his eyes,” A-Qing says in a matter-of-fact voice from the side. She’s now playing with a smooth piece of pale wood, making it dance back and forth across her knuckles. ”Xue Yang ambushed them and took them prisoners, forcing Xingchen-ge to watch as he mutilated Zichen-ge’s eyes. They managed to escape, barely, which—you never told how?” She cocks her head and frowns, the piece of wood balanced on her middle finger.

”It’s not something I’m proud of,” Xiao Xingchen whispers.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. ”It got you and your partner out alive, that’s plenty to be proud of.”

”And then what—you gave Song Lan your eyes?” Wei Wuxian asks, his own eyes wide with morbid fascination.

”It wasn’t quite that simple but essentially, yes,” Xiao Xingchen slowly says.

Wei Wuxian swallows against the bile in his throat and feels ridiculously grateful he has a reputation of shamelessness because it means he can crowd close to Lan Zhan who tucks him under his arm despite their audience. 

”When he found me, he’d moved on from eye mutilation to poison,” A-Qing says after a moment into the appalled silence. ”Or, whatever this is. Poison, drug, elixir…anyway, he found me and tricked me and then poured something into my eyes.”

”Why?” Xichen asks, horrified.

”How should I know?” A-Qing says, spreading her hands out. ”Because he’s fucking crazy? Because he’s a sadistic asshole who enjoys inflicting pain on others?”

”Language,” Lan Qiren mutters but he sounds distracted, eyes hooded like he’s lost deep in his thoughts.

”But you aren’t blind,” Lan Zhan states. 

A-Qing shakes her head sharply. ”Nope. No idea why or what the crazy man was trying to do. I don’t—” She stops, frowns, and tilts her head slightly. ”I don’t really see,” she then says slowly. ”Not like I used to. I can…I think I can sense spiritual energy? And resentful energy.” She shrugs. ”Or at least that’s what we’ve so far figured out.”

”We only found her a short while ago,” Song Lan adds.

There’s a story there, Wei Wuxian muses and reminds himself to ask about it later. Right now, though— ”I’m curious,” he says. ”What do you mean by sensing spiritual energy? When you look at me—or Zhiqiang—what do you see?”

A-Qing squints and makes a face. ”I don’t like to look at you from up this close,” she says. ”You’re too bright.” She glances at the others. ”All except for you,” she says to Meng Yao. ”It’s like your light is pretty much out.”

Meng Yao blinks and something flickers across his face. It’s there and gone again, a fleeting, bittersweet shadow Wei Wuxian is sure not many would’ve even caught. But he did and Xichen did, of course, as attuned as he is to his mate.

”A-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen chides.

The girl frowns and then her eyes go wide. ”Oh! I’m sorry—was that supposed to be a secret?” She asks, genuinely curious. ”I didn’t mean it as an insult, you know,” she says. ”You’re like me: when I travel with Xingchen-ge and Zichen-ge, it’s like I’m a speck of dust next to two stars. But not having a golden core doesn’t mean I’m useless.” There’s something steely in her milky white eyes, hard like iron and unyielding like a mountain. Wei Wuxian likes her.

Meng Yao inclines his head with a mild smile. ”Apology accepted, Miss A-Qing,” he says. 

Xichen clears his throat. ”The brightness would make sense, considering the combined amount of spiritual energy in this room right now,” he muses while discreetly touching Meng Yao’s wrist. ”Could you describe what you see? If not for what you see right now, then at least how you’ve learned to recognize spiritual energy.”

”It’s a bit like fire?” A-Qing says. ”But it doesn’t feel warm or cold, it just is. For some, it’s like a candle flame, so small I almost can’t see it, but some people are lanterns or pyres. You, though? It’s like sharing the space with suns.”

”Then what about resentful energy?”

”It took me a long time to understand what it is. I’m not a cultivator, and I had no idea of spiritual energies or resentful energies or such before the crazy man fucked up my eyes.” (Lan Qiren sighs at the language but says nothing.) ”And after…I had to learn how to walk again because everything was so different. It was almost like…” she frowns, searching for words. ”Like when you look into the bright light for too long and then blink and all you see is shadows and black spots dancing in front of your eyes? It was like that, except that the whole world was shadows and dark spots, lit up by an occasional lantern. It wasn’t until Xingchen-ge and Zichen-ge found me and I saw just how bright they were that I understood there was something I could still see.

”So, I now know resentful energy is all around us. It’s residual and sleeping and I’m glad because that’s how I can find my way around. Without it, the ground would be just…nothing.” She shudders and falls silent. 

There’s a moment of silence as they mull over her words. Wei Wuxian wonders what Xue Yang had been trying to accomplish—or if he even had tried to accomplish anything. He might’ve been just having fun. Sick, twisted fun.

”He looks familiar, by the way,” A-Qing suddenly says. ”The owl.”

Wei Wuxian’s brows shoot up. ”How so?”

A-Qing purses her lips. ”Am I right that spiritual energy isn’t the same for each cultivator? Like, you can recognize each other by the feel or…whatever.”

”That is correct,” Lan Qiren says.

She nods. ”So, when I saw him flying over us, I told Xingchen-ge and Zichen-ge it felt and looked familiar. They agreed.”

”Tingshan He,” Xiao Xingchen adds quietly.

”Huh,” Wei Wuxian says, tapping his cheek with a finger. ”Didn’t you say he could’ve just gained sentience on his own, A-Yao?”

Meng Yao’s smile turns wry. ”Not quite. I merely asked if it was possible that considering the amount of resentful energy you wielded in Nightless City, the energy unleashed from Tingshan He could’ve sought you out as a—conduit, for lack of a better term.”

”Nightless City? That was you?” Song Lan asks, incredulous.

Wei Wuxian shrugs and offers an apologetic grin. ”Yeah.”

They’re silent for a moment and then Xiao Xingchen says, softly, ”That must’ve been excruciating. The amount of raw power—what did you do?”

Lan Zhan’s arm tightens around him as Wei Wuxian swallows. ”Wen Ruohan constructed a tally that could harness resentful energy. I blew it up.” It and myself both.

”Remarkable,” Xiao Xingchen murmurs.

”Idiotic,” Jiang Cheng mutters and narrows his eyes as A-Qing snorts.

”But why me?” Wei Wuxian wonders. 

To his bewilderment, it’s Lan Qiren who answers. ”Why are you so surprised? You are the only one who has truly mastered demonic cultivation because unlike Wen Ruohan, you didn’t seek to harness it for your own ends. You set it free.” When Wei Wuxian is only able to gape, Lan Qiren sighs like he’s being purposefully obtuse. ”The proper cultivation path uses our own strength,” he says, his voice dipping into his lecturing tone. ”We refine our cores, train them, strive to make us better. The ghostly path uses resentful energy from all around us, and the easiest way to obtain it is to draw it from corpses. But while spiritual energy is, for lack of a better word, blank, resentful energy is not. It has a memory, burdens and grievances from the time it was alive. That’s why it’s called resentful.”

Wei Wuxian suddenly realizes Zhiqiang has been uncommonly still throughout the conversation. Usually, he keeps shifting slightly but now, he’s been absolutely motionless. He turns his head slightly, trying to get a better look at the owl perching on his shoulder. 

Xiao Xingchen cocks his head, curious. ”Are you seeking revenge, little one?” He asks the owl. 

For a moment, the room is quiet. Then Zhiqiang lets out a low, furious hiss that seems to carry with it a wail of dozens of tortured souls. The sound sears through the skin and bone, leaving behind a terrible, gnawing chill and the taste of ash in the air. 

”Well, I think that answers it,” Xichen says brightly, his Sect Leader smile firmly on. (Sometimes Wei Wuxian wonders how Xichen manages it. He and A-Yao truly fit well together.)

”But that only answers what the owl is,” Jiang Cheng says, immune to Xichen’s smile. ”Not why it came to be in the first place.”

”That brings us to the reason we asked for privacy talismans,” Song Lan says. ”Someone from the Lan Sect is working with Xue Yang.”

Wei Wuxian’s gut reaction is to scoff because that’s insane, right? But then he sees Xichen share a look with Lan Qiren and—

”What the fuck?” Jiang Cheng growls.

Lan Qiren presses his lips together in a tight line as he looks at Xichen, then shakes his head and sighs. ”We suspected as much. Back when the Wen attacked, our wards fell easily. Too easily. And after, we couldn’t repair them because, for some reason, they resisted our efforts.”

Lan Zhan inhales sharply, ”Uncle—” His voice sounds stricken.

Lan Qiren raises a placating hand. ”There was nothing you could’ve done even if you were here, Wangji. Someone betrayed us.”

Song Lan nods, face set in grim lines. ”We didn’t learn about it until recently. After our altercation with Xue Yang, we’ve tried to keep an eye out for him. We were aware that he was detained for some time but then he, apparently, escaped.”

”We only heard bits and pieces every now and then,” Xiao Xingchen continues. ”A mysterious illness in one village. A poisoned well in another. A handful of alphas turned null. Violent heats out of sync.”

”He’s experimenting on poisons and alchemy?” Meng Yao asks.

Xiao Xingchen inclines his head in Meng Yao’s direction. ”Apparently so. We don’t know why.”

Song Lan gives him a sideways glance. Wei Wuxian makes a mental note to talk to him later. It seems like Song Lan has opinions he doesn’t share with his…mate? Cultivation partner? Zhiji? 

”Some of his experiments could have some medical value but most of them are just pure cruel entertainment. That’s what Tingshan He was.”

”Wait,” Wei Wuxian says. ”I saw that.” He closes his eyes and thinks back on the vision Zhiqiang brought him back in the Nightless City. People running from their homes, eyes and mouths open wide, screaming, stumbling, falling, crawling, trying to drag themselves forward even when their fingers crackle and turn to dust and the blood in their eyes dries. Even now, it makes him sick. ”When it was over, all that was left was row after a row of bodies that looked more like crumpled paper dolls filled with sawdust than actual bodies.”

”Mn,” Xiao Xingchen says.

”There was almost no resentful energy present,” A-Qing says quietly. ”That’s what made it so weird. So many people dead and just a small whiff of resentment.”

Zhiqiang lets out a shrill, sorrowful sound from Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. 

Right.

”That’s because it’s right here, I guess, ” Wei Wuxian says and nudges the owl. ”So, are you going to hang around for as long as all your people have been avenged?” The owl bumps its head against his temple and lets out a sound that somehow reminds him of shijie and how she scolded him for not paying attention.

”Which was good because otherwise you wouldn’t have seen them in time,” Song Lan says to A-Qing.

”Yeah,” she says with a small frown and picks at a thread on her robe.

”By ’them’ I assume you mean Xue Yang and the Lan cultivator?” Jiang Cheng asks.

”He is no Lan if he colludes with someone like—” Lan Qiren starts, then stops and visibly takes hold of his temper. ”He might wear our robes and even our forehead ribbon but colluding with someone who has turned to the heretical path, someone who takes pleasure in others’ pain, someone who enjoys torture…” He shakes his head sharply. ”He is no Lan.”

Song Lan makes a small, impatient sound. ”Lan or no Lan, he wore your robes, your forehead ribbon, and carried a guqin on his back as he followed Xue Yang around.” 

Lan Qiren draws a sharp breath and Lan Zhan growls, so low in his throat that Wei Wuxian barely hears it. ”Su Minshan,” he spits out as his hand spasms on Wei Wuxian’s thigh.

”Who?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Xichen sighs. ”Su She, courtesy Minshan,” he says and pinches the base of his nose. ”He was a peripheral disciple who never showed any great promise. A beta who wanted more recognition than his status and skills provided.” He pauses and says, with a softly furious tone, ”He also never had permission to wear our forehead ribbon.”

”Wait,” Jiang Cheng says in a flat tone. ”Don’t tell me it was the asshat who tried to pick a fight with each alpha during our stay and lost every single time?” His eyes flit to Lan Zhan. ”The one with a weird fascination with Lan Wangji?”

”With whom?” Wei Wuxian says. ”A what now?”

Lan Qiren closes his eyes. ”Su Minshan is a perfect example of an inferiority complex,” he says dryly. ”With a strange belief that he would need to be an alpha to lead a sect.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. ”Meishan Yu has always been led by an omega and Teacher Lan himself has done an excellent job leading the Lan. Only an idiot would think secondary genders have anything to do with the ability to lead.”

A silence falls and Wei Wuxian blinks. ”What?” He asks, looking around. Xichen is smiling and Lan Qiren has a weird, constipated look on his face and— oh. Right. Wei Wuxian just complimented him. He ducks his head and snuggles closer to Lan Zhan.

”That probably answers our question about who let the Wen in,” Meng Yao says. He has a faraway look on his face, the kind Wei Wuxian knows means his mind is working too fast for them to follow. ”We can only assume he’d made his acquaintances with Xue Yang earlier and was working under his orders.” He cocks his head. ”Or perhaps not his orders as such…he might have done it all by himself, in a misguided attempt to impress him.”

Song Lan clears his throat. ”We were too far away to hear what they were talking about but they checked the corpses almost as if they were looking for something. Or perhaps they were just pleased with themselves.”

”Did you see which way they were heading?” Xichen asks.

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. ”No. We hid as best as we could and waited until it was safe to come out.” 

He looks unerringly at Wei Wuxian and it sends a shiver down his spine. Did they come because they knew he was in The Cloud Recesses? Did they come because Huaisang sent them here?

”And now you are safe,” Meng Yao says smoothly. ”Gusu has been reclaimed and the wards are stronger than ever. Now that the most urgent matters have been dealt with, may I direct you to the guest quarters to rest? You must be exhausted after everything you’ve been through.”

Something in Xiao Xingchen’s posture relaxes and he wilts ever so slightly. ”That would be appreciated, thank you.”

As Meng Yao starts to organize an appropriate guest house for the trio, the rest of them stand up, sharing worried glances. Xichen starts to speak with Lan Qiren in a low tone and after Lan Zhan helps him up, Wei Wuxian gently ushers him to join. Despite everything that’s happened, The Cloud Recesses is still Lan Zhan’s home and he’s anxious to keep it safe. After exchanging a couple of words with Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan joins Lan Qiren, Xichen, and Lan Zhan, leaving Xiao Xingchen standing next to the window. On the other side of the room, Jiang Cheng is, again, engaged in a weird staring match with A-Qing which is hilarious but that Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to disturb. Instead, bites his lip and then starts to make his way to Xiao Xingchen.

He isn’t sure why he’s nervous. This is his shixiong, his martial uncle, someone who knew his mother. He is family in a very different way from Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan—someone who can tell him where he comes from and where his roots are. And yet, he’s…somehow unapproachable, standing there with his head slightly tilted, eyes covered with the white blindfold, and mouth curved in the barest smile. He looks ethereal, like he stepped out of a painting, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to address him.

”Daozhang,” he says and bows deep, making Zhiqiang let out a hoarse squeak.

Xiao Xingchen’s mouth opens slightly with surprise. ”Oh, no, there’s no need for such formality,” he says and gently grips his forearms to guide him up from the bow. ”You can call me Xingchen if you’d like. We are family after all—your mother was my shijie, as you already know.” 

”Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes blinking to clear his suddenly blurry vision. ”Did you know my father as well?”

”Not as well as I wished,” Xiao Xingchen apologizes. ”But I met him a couple of times. He was a warm, steady man with a big heart and a quick smile.”

”Oh,” Wei Wuxian says again, tucking the information into his heart, right next to the scent memory of the sunny day he’s been treasuring for his whole life. ”I’d love to learn more about my parents,” he says, a bit shy. ”If you have the time.”

”I will make time for you,” Xiao Xingchen says seriously and briefly grips his shoulder. ”I would like nothing more than to sit down and learn to know my long-lost shidi.”

Wei Wuxian ducks his head, momentarily overwhelmed. He never thought he would have this—have more family. Sometimes he feels like he already has more than he deserves—and now this?

He suddenly gets an urge to hug the other man and before he knows it, he’s wrapped his arms tightly around Xiao Xingchen, swallowing back tears as strong arms hug him back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders how Lan Zhan might feel, seeing his omega in another alpha’s arms but he trusts Lan Zhan to understand this is a very special occasion. He closes his eyes and breathes in the strange-familiar scent that tickles something in his memory—it must have something to do with Baoshan Sanren, right? 

And then, so carefully he barely feels the breath on his cheek: ”Keep your eyes closed and don’t react,” Xiao Xingchen whispers. ”Su She wasn’t acting alone. We need to talk.” And then he steps back from the hug and tilts his head slightly. ”Would you have time to talk tomorrow?” He asks and his expression turns mischievous. ”I have many, fond memories of your mother that I would like to share with you.”

Slightly taken aback at the warning and the sudden change in Xiao Xingchen’s demeanor, Wei Wuxian can only nod, eyes wide. 

”I’ll come by after lunch,” Xiao Xingchen says, pleased. ”I think Song Lan and I need to talk with Sect Leader Lan and Teacher Lan and then I believe I have to find something to distract the little menace with.”

”That sounds good,” Wei Wuxian says, slightly dazed.

He bids their guests goodbye, tries to help Meng Yao to clear the table only to be shooed away, and then with unseeing eyes, makes his way back to Jingshi with Lan Zhan. His mind is filled with snippets of conversations from earlier, with the chance to finally learn about his mother, with the strange dynamics between the white, black, and purple trio. Lan Zhan doesn’t try to pry his mind out of it but guides him through the motions of dinner and bath and preparations for bed, ever-gentle and patient.

He’s about to fall asleep when he starts to wonder just what compelled him to hug Xiao Xingchen in the first place.

The thing about envy was that it made absolutely no sense. There was no point in coveting things that weren’t meant for her, people who weren’t hers, life that was never in her grasp. The only thing envy did was that it slowly poisoned her mind and made her days bitter and nights cold, distorted the colors around her, and turned her into a mockery of herself.

And yet.

When she learned Ziyuan was to marry young Sect Leader Jiang.

When she realized that no matter how smart or tenacious she was, a part of her sworn sister’s life would always be hidden from her.

When she saw the young, pretty maids all around her grow round with her husband’s seed while she knew she never would again.

When Ziyuan had two children of her own and then a third, even though she pretended she didn’t want him.

Yes. 

Over the long years as the Lady of Koi Tower, the taste of vinegar grew frustratingly familiar to Bai Mingzhu.

Sometimes she wondered if there was something wrong with her, what with her willingness to fill her cup anew and drink from it even though she knew full well how sour it would taste. Was it a way to remind her that she was alive, and that under the stiff golden robes and opulent hairpieces she was still a living, loving, feeling woman? Was it a self-inflicted punishment she took upon herself, making her current self pay for the mistakes of a young, foolish girl who fell for the tricks of an oleaginous alpha?

Or was it just a way to feel something—anything?

She wasn’t sure.

•••

She and Ziyuan had fought only once. Oh, they bickered almost constantly but that was what sisters did, threw words at each other with a smile playing on the corners of their mouths and eyes crinkled with mirth when they managed to land an especially stinging comment. That was a mutually enjoyable exercise that left them both bright-eyed and pleased, easing them into their shared afternoon tea.

But fighting. That was unheard of.

And that, too, brewed from envy: Ziyuan was envious of a dead woman who had borne a child her husband held more dear than his own children and Mingzhu was envious of Ziyuan who was handed a child she didn’t want while Mingzhu’s arms were cold and lonely, yearning for a baby to hold and cherish. She lost herself and lashed out, revealing the bleeding wound that was her wish for another child and Ziyuan—

Well. She’d never been very good at being told she was wrong.

She called Ziyuan heartless and Ziyuan stormed out, hissing that Mingzhu was pathetic. The icy silence that followed the altercation was excruciating for them both and it took almost a year and a half for them to find their way back to each other. When they finally reconciled, they stood silent for a long time, clasping each other’s hands and resting their foreheads together.

”I’m so sorry, jiejie,” Mingzhu whispered. ”I know your heart and it is a fierce thing, capable of so much—”

”No!” Ziyuan interrupted her, drawing back slightly so that Mingzhu could see the intensity in her eyes. ”You called me out, and that was a good thing. There’s a difference between pragmatism and cold-heartedness and you were right.” She shook her head. ”I will try to do better but I’ll count on you to keep me in line, meimei.” 

Mingzhu huffed a laugh. ”That’s a tall order, Ziyuan,” she said drolly. 

”I have faith,” Ziyuan replied with a wry smile. Then she grew serious, cupped Mingzhu’s hands in between her own, and bowed her head to press her forehead briefly against their joined hands. ”But what I said to you…Meimei, you are my dearest friend, my sworn sister, and what I said to you was unforgivable. No matter how I feel about Fengmian and his past with Wei Wuxian’s mother, I know for certain that after we got married, he’s never looked at another. I cannot even begin to imagine how it must feel to have him flaunt his affairs in front of you like that.”

”Jiejie—”

”You are not pathetic!” Ziyuan whispered vehemently, looking at her with fire in her eyes. ”You are not weak. His shame isn’t yours to carry, and it does not reflect on your character. He is the weak, despicable one. He is the one who should be ashamed. He is the one who should crawl on his belly and beg for your forgiveness.” She straightened and something cold and unyielding flickered in her eyes. ”And if you want to be done with it, let me know.”

”Ziyuan!” She gasped, eyes wide, barely curbing in her instinctual flinch and need to check for eavesdroppers. Jinlintai was full of snakes and backstabbers and while she vetted her staff, she could never be quite sure if her maids weren’t willing to betray her, and what her sworn sister just suggested was—

”Don’t worry,” Ziyuan said softly. ”This room is warded and my maids make sure no one can spy on us.” She drew her into a warm hug. ”This isn’t a one-time offer. Think about it.”

•••

Sometimes, she wondered if her life would’ve been easier if she’d been an omega. As a beta, she was both stronger and weaker than the two other secondary genders: stronger because she wasn’t as susceptible to scents as the other two; weaker because she had no scent on her side to ease her way. (She also couldn’t help but wonder if she could’ve borne more children if she was an omega.)

And if she was an omega, she might’ve been privy to whatever Ziyuan was doing.

Then she met Wei Wuxian and decided that she was fervently glad she was never part of Ziyuan’s machinations. Managing Koi Tower was more than enough.

•••

Living in Jinlintai meant she had to be very good at reading people. She had exceptionally good instincts which had assured her position despite her husband’s antics. She didn’t make mistakes.

Jiang Yanli was the exception.

She was such a sweet girl on the outside, kind, gentle, demure—and pure steel on the inside. 

Back when she and Ziyuan had promised that their firstborns would either be married or be sworn siblings, Mingzhu had thought the promise would be easy to keep. Her resolve had wavered when she’d met Yanli because she was almost certain Jinlintai would eat her alive.

And then Yanli showed her what it really meant to be Violet Spider’s daughter. She managed Zixuan with such ease it made Mingzhu deeply envious and charmed the crotchety elders in no time. She made polite suggestions on how to deal with the inevitable shift of power and, instead of strong-arming Mingzhu to appoint Zixuan as the next sect leader, she nudged her to accept the role herself. (Later, in the privacy of her own rooms, Mingzhu huffed a laugh and raised a toast to her sister.)

Yanli was a force to be reckoned with.

Mingzhu couldn’t wait to see her step up when it was her time to become the Lady of Koi Tower.

(And perhaps, one day, she would tell Yanli that she’d known all along what she’d been doing and that she didn’t have to hide Zixuan’s siblings from her. She might never accept them but they were innocent and didn’t deserve to live in fear of a volatile sect leader simply because they were the children she couldn’t bear.)

Xiao Xingchen is an absolute delight. Between him and Song Lan, he’s the one who looks like a refined, priceless statue, a paragon of delicate, scholarly grace and beauty. But when he relaxes, he reveals his mischievous, joking side and his dry, witty humor, and his smirk transforms his face boyish and bright. He arrives, as promised, the next day with Song Lan and sits down with Wei Wuxian, telling him about his mother, the pranks she pulled and the trouble she got into, the ways she infuriated their master, and the ways she made her proud. He talks until his voice is hoarse, and then Lan Zhan brews him a new pot of soothing herbal tea and he continues talking. 

Wei Wuxian drinks it all up, hoarding all this new knowledge of his mother like precious pearls. He listens so intently that he completely forgets Lan Zhan and Song Lan are in the room, the other meditating as the other reads. He forgets the passing of time and only comes back to himself—and his protesting body—when Lan Zhan gently reminds them that it is late and almost time for dinner.

That night, Lan Zhan holds him as he trembles under the weight of all he’s learned, grateful, happy, and heartsick for the mother he never had the chance to know.

”This is fascinating,” Xiao Xingchen murmurs. ”I can say for certain that I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Madam Lan’s journal rests on the table, emitting a soft, barely audible hum. Wei Wuxian sits at the table and Xiao Xingchen sits opposite him, hands on his lap, and a soft smile playing on the corner of his mouth. 

”It’s…” he cocks his head almost like he’s listening. ”Part of it is completely alien to me but part of it is achingly familiar. It’s been ages since I last encountered my master’s creation.”

”What?” Wei Wuxian says, utterly bewildered.

”You said there’s a Meishan Yu symbol on the right lower corner of the cover,” Xiao Xingchen says, raising a hand and carefully hovering a finger over the journal. ”I’m assuming it’s one of the symbols the network uses, right?”

Wei Wuxian opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. ”How—what—how would you know that?”

Xiao Xingchen smiles and under his bandage, the corners of his eyes crinkle. ”The same way I was able to poke you back when we met at the gate.” He pauses for a moment, almost like he’s checking the environment for curious eyes and ears. Wei Wuxian shrugs and activates another anti-sneaking-around talisman (he really should come up with a better name for it). Just to be safe.

”One of the reasons my grandmaster retired from this world was the reason that she lost her mate,” Xiao Xingchen says softly. ”And before you ask: they didn’t die, but they were still lost to her.

”Baoshan Sanren’s mate was none other than Lan Yi, Gusu Lan’s young Sect Leader. A woman.” His lips draw into a stilted smile. ”And an omega.” He shakes his head. ”There was no way the Lan would allow her to mate with a rogue female alpha, no matter how powerful she was.”

Yeah. Wei Wuxian can well imagine the outrage.

”They both were brilliant in their own right but together they were something the Cultivation world had never seen before. They didn’t invent scent manipulation—that’s natural and has been around as long as the secondary genders have existed—but they were the ones who honed it to perfection. Oh, and they also came up with the combined wards that would provide unbreakable protection to things of great value, as they could only be accessed with two sides of the wards, alpha an omega, at the same time.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes go wide. The journal—ohhhh. So many things start to make more sense now.

Xiao Xingchen pauses and takes a thoughtful sip of tea. Wei Wuxian hurriedly fills his cup, thoughts scrambling all over.

”There are only a handful of omegas who are privy to the so-called Meishan Yu secrets. They’re not Meishan’s secrets, of course, but a version Lan Yi and my grandmaster handed over to them because they felt Meishan Yu was the only sect worthy of keeping and teaching their methods for future generations.” He grins wryly. ”The fact that Meishan Yu has always been led by an omega was not a coincidence.

”But if what you know and can do is a highly guarded secret, what my grandmaster can do is a myth. It’s not quite the same and she doesn’t teach it to every alpha under her wing, not even to the most. In fact, I’m the first alpha in generations who has learned it. And—” he inclines his head at the journal, ”—the reason is right here.

”Lan Yi’s period, as you already know, was long and prosperous. Officially, she never shared her bed with anyone and she adopted an heir from a branch family, defying the Elders who demanded her to carry a biological child to be the sect heir.”

Wei Wuxian snorts.

”Quite,” Xiao Xingchen agrees, amused. ”However, there was a darkness brewing within the Lan. A sickness, if you will. It is of the kind that shrouds itself in high morals and strict rules, the kind that seeks purity above all else. Purity of the main line, purity of cultivation, mind, body…something like that doesn’t look kindly to digressions. 

”My grandmaster recognized it and tried to warn Lan Yi but—” He sighs. ”No one knows what happened between them. We only know that Baoshan Sanren turned away from the Cultivation world and entered seclusion. Even after she re-emerged, she never interacted with the sects again. She never contacted the Lan—at least not that we know of. Instead, she dedicated herself to her cultivation and reached immortality, although I’m not that sure she meant to do that.” Xiao Xingchen falls silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. 

Wei Wuxian pours them more tea.

”So,” he says slowly. ”When you said Su She wasn’t acting alone…”

”Mn,” Xiao Xingchen hums. He sips his tea for some while and Wei Wuxian tries (and mostly fails) to wait patiently.

”I don’t think Su She is the one we need to worry about,” he finally says. ”He seems like a man driven by jealousy and pettiness, more bent on revenge than high morals.”

”Ah,” Wei Wuxian says and taps his fingers against his cheek. ”To summarize: we have an enemy who looks like anyone else around here, someone—or several someones—who has been patiently waiting for their chance for who knows how long, and when they saw an opportunity, they took it, using the general upheaval of the Cultivation world to their benefit.”

Xiao Xingchen nods. 

Wei Wuxian shakes his head slowly. ”Wow. Just—imagine the turmoil they must feel after everything that’s happened: Madam Lan, A-Yao, me? I mean, the purity of the Lan is pretty much permanently tarnished now, isn’t it? The wards are brimming with the power of a son of a servant and a demonic cultivator, and the next heir will be born of the son of a prostitute?” He lets out a slightly shrilly laugh. ”I bet they’d just love to get rid of us.”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply a couple of times.

”We need to get that journal open.”

Thing is, Wei Wuxian knows this is too big to keep a secret.

And yet.

He absolutely should tell Lan Zhan because if someone was potentially threatening Lan Zhan’s life, Wei Wuxian would go insane with worry. But that’s the thing: he can’t do that. He loves Lan Zhan like crazy but he also recognizes that his alpha is subtle as a bull if he thinks someone’s even looking at his mate wrong. Telling him would equal raising a banner in the central training yard and yelling, ”JUST SO THAT YOU KNOW, WE’RE LOOKING FOR YOU!”

Meng Yao would be his first choice to tell but his heat is almost upon them and the last thing Wei Wuxian wants to do is to distract him and Xichen. They deserve this moment of reprieve, to have the chance to bathe in each other’s presence in a time when the cultivation world isn’t on a brink of war and, for a moment, they can just be them. Wei Wuxian is determined to let them have it.

His siblings are absolutely out of the question. Jiang Cheng would be even worse than Lan Zhan (not that either of them would like to be reminded of it) and shijie… He shudders when he thinks about shijie’s reaction. Fortunately for him, shijie left for Lotus Pier a day after Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, and A-Qing arrived because she would’ve taken one look at his face and known he was planning something stupid. (He determinedly doesn’t acknowledge that the small voice in the back of his mind that reminds him not to do anything stupid is shijie’s.)

He also knows he probably should let Huaisang know but on one hand, he’s pretty sure Huaisang already knows, and on the other hand, alerting too many people might push the people he and Xiao Xingchen are trying to find into either hiding or lashing out. 

No, for now, he’s going to let A-Yao and Xichen enjoy themselves, and Lan Qiren and Lan Zhan fume over Su She while Wei Wuxian and Xiao Xingchen combine their efforts to open Madam Lan’s journal. Yes, it must be guarding secrets heavy enough to topple the sect—perhaps it even hides the identity of the ones behind the twisted plans, but that can’t be the only reason why it’s so ridiculously heavily warded. And while he knows that what they’re doing is extremely dangerous in itself—the sheer power of those wards, sheesh—he can’t help but be excited. He’s digging through intricate spellwork! He’s spending time with his shixiong! He’s learning new things! He’ll hear even more about his mother!

Besides, it’s not like Lan Zhan will let anything happen to him anyway.

They soon establish a routine: Wei Wuxian’s morning is devoted to stretching, meditation, and practicing with his cane, and then Lan Zhan brings A-Yuan over for lunch. After, he sits down with Xiao Xingchen to continue their work with the journal until dinner. It’s nice to have a structure in his day again. It makes him feel more normal. Like himself again.

”What did you do to Xue Yang?” Wei Wuxian asks on the second day. 

They’re taking a break after pouring over the journal for what feels like hours. Wei Wuxian would’ve probably pushed through if it wasn’t for Xiao Xingchen’s gentle worry and Lan Zhan’s insistence to take regular breaks. Bah. Being fussed over by two overly concerned alphas makes his face burn red but since it helps Lan Zhan to get over his silly jealousy, it’s fine. 

(”You do realize he needs to have his hand on my shoulder so that we can weave our spiritual energy together and try to open the journal? He’s my shixiong, you silly alpha, and a very loving and committed cultivation partner to Song Lan.”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says, somehow sounding petulant. Wei Wuxian loves him so much.)

Xiao Xingchen’s hand holding his teacup freezes midway up, spilling hot tea on his hand. He doesn’t seem to notice. ”I—” he starts and then falls silent.

Wei Wuxian winces. ”Sorry,” he says. ”I know it’s none of my business and—”

”I forced him down,” Xiao Xingchen whispers. ”He destroyed Song Lan’s eyes and I—” His hand starts to tremble, spilling more tea. ”I was so angry. He had no reason, we did nothing to him! And yet, he—” 

Wei Wuxian reaches out and gently picks the cup from Xiao Xingchen’s hand and then grips his hand in his own. ”You don’t have to tell me. I don’t need to know.”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. ”No, I need to tell. Song Lan doesn’t know because he was insensate with pain and—” He clenches Wei Wuxian’s hand in a bruising hold. ”There is no one else who might understand what I did.”

”Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, squeezing the shaking hands once. ”Okay. Tell me.”

”He set us a trap,” Xiao Xingchen begins in a low voice. ”Xue Yang. He dropped us hints of demonic possessions and slowly led us to Baixue Temple. He managed to take us completely by surprise, controlling Song Lan’s half-dead and drugged shidi and shimei and then dropping us with poisoned needles in our necks. He sealed our cores when we were unconscious and tied us up.” Xiao Xingchen’s face contorts with bitter desperation. ”I tried to reason with him, beg him, negotiate with him. It didn’t matter. He laughed at my face as he carved Song Lan’s beautiful eyes out and presented them to me as gifts.”

Wei Wuxian swallows back bile and forces himself to stay silent in front of his shixiong’s pain.

”When Song Lan lost consciousness, I lost my sanity. Xue Yang was an omega and capable of manipulation but he had no knowledge of the training I’d gone through or that sealing my core would not affect the control I had on my alpha side. That was his first mistake. His second was that I wasn’t gagged. So, when he held out his hand holding Song Lan’s eyes, I opened my mouth and—” He chokes up and hangs his head, and with horror, Wei Wuxian sees red tears slowly seeping from under his bandage.

”I roared. I poured my rage and aggression out in one, single sound of unbridled fury and wrapped my scent around his throat like claws. He dropped immediately. I ordered him to open my ropes and then sit by the wall and stay silent until the sun had gone down three times. I gathered Song Lan and left.” 

Xiao Xingchen’s cheeks are red with blood as he raises his head. ”I left him there,” he whispers. ”I took Song Lan and left him there, bleeding from his qiqiao, unable to move for three days.” He swallows. ”And all I could think of was, ’if only I’d made that for ten sundowns.’”

For some while, the only sound in the room is Xiao Xingchen’s ragged breathing as he trembles, holding on to Wei Wuxian’s hands in a white-knuckled grip.

A long moment later, Wei Wuxian lets out a small breath. ”When I bent Wen Chao to my will, I squeezed his skull so hard I could feel his bones grind. I wanted to keep squeezing so long that his brain leaked out of his ears.”

”But you didn’t.”

”No. I didn’t.”

Xiao Xingchen’s inhale is a ragged, wet sound in the quiet room. ”Sometimes I hate this…gift.”

”Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says and breathes around the nameless thing lodged in his throat. ”Me too.”

They sit in silence for some time more and then, as if by mutual agreement, they stand up. Xiao Xingchen bows to him stiffly and then leaves, walking like an old man with brittle bones and the weight of a lifetime of regrets on his shoulders. It takes only a moment for Lan Zhan to hurry in—perhaps he’d felt Wei Wuxian’s anguish through their bond, but seeing Xiao Xingchen’s face would’ve definitely tipped him from mildly worried to frantic—and Wei Wuxian falls into his mates’ arms like he’s the only thing keeping him together.

”Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, bewildered and worried. 

Wei Wuxian just shakes his head and squeezes his eyes closed as he pushes his face into the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck. ”Just hold me, please,” he whispers. ”Just hold me.”

Without a word, Lan Zhan grips him tightly and carries him to bed, and holds him through the night.

Meng Yao’s heat hits a couple of days later. It’s a quiet affair, as Meng Yao has been preparing for it probably from the moment he first walked into the Cloud Recesses. To Wei Wuxian’s ultimate frustration (and bewilderment), Meng Yao hands his duties over to him for the duration of his heat. 

”If I catch, you’d have to step up anyway,” he says tersely. His scent is slightly off but Wei Wuxian knows better than to try to reassure him. First, because Meng Yao would bite his head off, and second, Xichen has grown increasingly attentive and no longer lets his mate out of his sight, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to tip his overprotectiveness into aggression. Which, considering it’s Xichen, would probably mean frowning and perhaps a soft growl, but even that would be too much for Lan Zhan. Oh, Lan alphas…

So, instead of patting his shoulder or doing anything else as adventurous as that, he snorts. ”As if you’d ever step down long enough for me to be in charge.” 

Meng Yao gives him a withering look. ”Of course not. But I’d still require your assistance.”

Wei Wuxian drops his grin. ”You do know you have it, right?” Wei Wuxian says seriously.

For a moment, Meng Yao is silent and searches his eyes. ”Whatever you’re not telling me, we’ll deal with it after my heat.” He raises a brow and adds, ”And you will tell me then.”

Wei Wuxian salutes with three fingers on his brow. ”Yes, Lan-furen!”

Meng Yao’s eye roll rivals that of Jiang Cheng’s which itself is a feat. But it also makes his shoulders relax slightly and amusement dance in his eyes, so Wei Wuxian considers it a win.

Xichen and Meng Yao retire to the small cabin behind the waterfalls, near the Cold Pond cave. Wei Wuxian is pretty sure neither of them even considered the option of going to Caiyi, feeling safer and at ease inside the Cloud Recesses’ wards. Lan Zhan helped his brother to equip the cabin, showing endless patience when Xichen fussed over blankets and robes and incense. It was both hilarious and incredibly endearing to see the usually impeccably in control Sect Leader Lan frazzled and almost maniacally hunting for the softest fabrics for his mate.

The sect takes it all with a stride. In a way it’s surprising, considering what a bunch of fuddy-duddies the Lan cultivators are, but they also respect the alpha/omega duality to an almost ridiculous degree. Perhaps that was the reason Lan Qiren was so furious when he thought Wei Wuxian had induced Lan Zhan: in his eyes, Wei Wuxian was a wayward omega trying to fuck with the natural order.

…and now that Wei Wuxian knows about the secretly festering infection inside the sect, he wonders just how much it has affected the Lan Principles.

He and Lan Zhan see Meng Yao and Xichen off. The pair is already half-blind to the world around them and it makes something warm curl in Wei Wuxian’s chest. He leans his head against Lan Zhan’s shoulder and smiles as Xichen sweeps Meng Yao into his arms and they smile at each other, more open and tender than they’ve so far let anyone see. 

”I’m happy for them,” he whispers.

”Mn,” Lan Zhan hums and presses a kiss on top of his head. ”They are good for each other.”

They start back down the path, unhurried, walking hand in hand. There have been fewer of these leisurely walks lately, what with everything that’s been going on. As much fun as mysteries are, Wei Wuxian hopes they’ll have time for more leisurely walks like this. He likes the feeling of just walking with Lan Zhan. He glances at his mate and drinks up his profile, smiling slightly at the way he holds himself. It takes almost no time at all for Lan Zhan to glance at him from the corner of his eye—of course he knows Wei Wuxian was ogling him. He raises a brow and Wei Wuxian laughs softly and then pecks a quick kiss on his jaw.

Ah, but Lan Zhan is so cute when his ears blush!

Someone clears their throat, interrupting his mushy thoughts about his mate, and—oh, it’s Jiang Cheng.

”Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Zhan says with a frosty tone he seems to reserve only for Wei Wuxian’s brother.

Jiang Cheng inclines his head. ”Lan Wangji. I’d like to talk with Wei Wuxian.” It’s worded as a request but it’s more like an order, said in a tight voice.

”Did something happen?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Jiang Cheng huffs. ”I got a message this morning. A riverbank has collapsed east of Lotus Pier. A-jie has her hands full with a fever epidemic storming through the Yunmeng non-cultivation people and she simply doesn’t have time to deal with both. So far, Yu Qiaolian has done well but she isn’t you.”

”Yu Qiaolian?” 

”She’s a distant cousin who arrived with two other young cultivators after the—” Jiang Cheng’s mouth snaps shut with a click and he ducks his head, scowling at an imaginary speck of dust on the hem of his robe. ”She took up the position of the Head Disciple in your absence,” he says, not quite meeting his eyes. ”It’s temporary. Until you’re recovered.” 

”Ah…” Wei Wuxian says carefully. ”Chengcheng, you know I might never—” Jiang Cheng clears his throat and scowls. Wei Wuxian bites his lip and falls silent.

”Anyway. I’m needed at home.”

”Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes and swallows. ”When—when are you leaving?”

Jiang Cheng shrugs. ”I’ve been ready to leave since the message but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Lan Zhan turns slightly. ”I will go to Uncle,” he says. ”And I’ll see you for lunch.”

”Um, I’ll probably be with Xingchen,” Wei Wuxian says.

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says. He bends slightly to give Wei Wuxian a chaste kiss before leaving, offering Jiang Cheng a curt nod.

Jiang Cheng makes a face and then jerks his head at Wei Wuxian. ”Do you feel up for a walk to the gate?” He asks and then starts down without waiting for a reply, although slowly, clearly waiting for Wei Wuxian to catch up.

”I don’t like the look on your face,” Jiang Cheng says after a moment.

”What’s wrong with my face?” He asks, wounded.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. ”I never said there was anything wrong but now that you mentioned it…” He flashes a shit-eating grin when Wei Wuxian slaps him with his sleeve, dancing away from the hitting range. ”I said I don’t like the look on your face. It’s the one you have when you need to do something stupid and then you don’t tell anyone about it because you think you have to deal with it yourself.”

”That’s hurtful!”

”And true,” Jiang Cheng says. Then he sighs and stops, whirling to face Wei Wuxian. ”A-jie is busy with the sick and then she’s heading to Lanling.” He pauses and grimaces. ”Yeah, I know. Point is that after I leave, we won’t be here to look after you. And no, Lan Bolin doesn’t count.”

”I don’t need looking after,” Wei Wuxian says, indignant.

”Sure you don’t,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. ”You’ll just fondle cursed objects willy-nilly and scare the shit out of everyone.”

Wei Wuxian gasps, pressing a hand on his heart. ”I—first of all, ’fondle’? And second, did you just say ’willy-nilly?’”

Jiang Cheng grits his jaw. ”You made me worry myself sick. You made jiejie cry.” He takes a breath, visibly trying to calm himself down. ”I’m just trying to tell you to not be a fucking moron. A lot of people want to actually see you stay alive.”

”Wow. I can feel the love,” Wei Wuxian jokes.

Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. ”Good. Because you should.” Then he turns and with a dramatic flare of his robes, stomps down the path, leaving Wei Wuxian gaping after him.

”What…” he whispers, bewildered. ”Wait! Chengcheng!”

As they make their way down the path, Wei Wuxian bumps his shoulder against Jiang Cheng’s, grinning when he gets a huff and a bump back.

The handful of disciples Jiang Cheng arrived with is already waiting for him at the gates. They look so very young and for a moment, Wei Wuxian is hit with an intense bout of nostalgia. He knows it’s been only a couple of years since his lecture in the Cloud Recesses and these young cultivators are about the age he was back then but still.

”You okay?” Jiang Cheng asks under his breath.

”Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says with a small smile. ”It’s just… memories, you know?”

Jiang Cheng lets out an agreeing noise and then yelps as Zhiqiang sweeps down, the black smoke of his tail feathers or…whatever they are leaving goosebumps in their wake. ”That never ceases to be fucking creepy,” he mutters, trailing the owl with narrowed eyes. 

Zhiqiang circles around the gate and then heads back to them, settling down on his usual perch on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

”That’s so fucking weird,” an awed voice says behind them. 

Zidian sparkles on Jiang Cheng’s hand as he turns sharply to glare at A-Qing. ”What are you doing, sneaking up on people?”

A-Qing snorts. ”As if. First, bold of you to claim anyone could actually sneak up on you two. Second, the owl would let Xian-ge know if anyone wished him harm.” She cocks her head and smiles sweetly at Wei Wuxian. ”Right, Xian-ge?”

He opens his mouth but before he even has the chance to reply, Jiang Cheng barks, ”Who are you calling Xian-ge?”

”Him,” A-Qing says, white eyes wide, pointing at Wei Wuxian.

”You!”

”It’s fine, A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, feeling unbearably fond when Jiang Cheng huffs in indignation. ”And you’re right. I think. He most likely would warn me. But also, what do you mean by weird?”

”Well, you,” A-Qing says motioning vaguely at them both. ”You two are bright as fuck and he’s like a hole into the void just sitting there, on your shoulder.”

”And?” Jiang Cheng demands, crossing his arms on his chest.

”And nothing!” A-Qing says, throwing her arms in the air. ”I just thought it’s so fucking weird.”

”Watch your damn mouth,” Jiang Cheng snaps.

A-Qing blows him a raspberry and then runs away, cackling over her shoulder.

”Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, eyes wide.

”What.”

He tilts his head and taps a finger against his cheek.

”What,” Jiang Cheng growls.

”I was just thinking, one doesn’t have to necessarily be a cultivator to lead a sect,” he muses. ”And since you’ll probably never take a mate, you’d have to adopt anyway.”

”Wei Wuxian, what the fuck,” Jiang Cheng says flatly.

”I’m just saying!” He says, letting out the slightest whiff of I’m just a clueless omega scent. ”She already dresses in purple and she even sounds like you!” He glances at Jiang Cheng with a sly grin. ”And since two alpha males cannot reproduce…”

”WEI WUXIAN!!”

He laughs and darts to give his brother a hug. The way Jiang Cheng’s embarrassed/enraged bluster and sputtering mellows down and he hugs back is totally worth the slash of pain down his side and hip his abrupt move gained him.

Besides, he already saw the glint in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. He’s pretty sure A-Qing will receive an invitation to Lotus Pier in the not-so-distant future.

Meng Yao’s heat doesn’t really change Wei Wuxian’s schedule that much—although he’s almost certain that’s simply because Meng Yao is a control freak who wants to be ridiculously prepared no matter what he does. Lan-furen’s duties are well-documented and he left Wei Wuxian step-by-step instructions on how to handle things in his absence. In reality, that mostly means checking in on things, receiving reports, and signing his name on the few documents Meng Yao deemed suitable for him to sign.

He’s not sure whether to be delighted or offended.

Lan Zhan and Lan Qiren share Xichen’s duties in a surprisingly amicable air. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure what has changed but something has, and the icy hostility Lan Zhan has directed at his uncle has slowly started to thaw. Which is a good thing for sure—Lan Qiren is the closest thing Lan Zhan and Xichen have for a father and despite all his shortcomings and his stupid aversion to genuine human feelings, he does care.

Perhaps one day, he might even learn to accept Wei Wuxian.

Lan Zhan being occupied with work means Wei Wuxian can concentrate even more effort on breaking through the wards keeping Madam Lan’s journal locked. They’re extremely delicate work, interwoven spells mixing Baoshan Sanren and Lan An’s craft with hidden traps to trip them up. So far, they’ve managed to dismantle two dormant curses but it feels like they’re no closer to their goal. It’s frustrating and annoying and if it wasn’t for Xiao Xingchen, Wei Wuxian would’ve probably thrown the journal on the wall at least thrice already.

”Let’s take a break,” Xiao Xingchen says. He sounds completely calm but when he takes his hand off Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and leans back, his hands are shaking.

And people say I push myself too hard, Wei Wuxian thinks and then he has to bite back a gasp when his back spasms as he pushes himself to stand up. Xiao Xingchen tuts softly but doesn’t say anything else which makes him grateful. It’s not that he dislikes the fussing, it’s just a bit too much at times. It reminds him how his body hasn’t gotten any better—how it might never get any better. It’s not something he likes to think about so he doesn’t.

”You haven’t yet told me how you found A-Qing,” he says over his shoulder as he prepares them a pot of tea. ”She’s quite something, isn’t she?”

”Ah,” Xiao Xingchen says with a smile. ”Yes, she is…a challenge.” He accepts his tea with a pleased hum and takes a sip, visibly gathering his thoughts. ”We don’t know much about her past, other than she lived in the streets before Xue Yang caught her. We don’t even know why he caught her—perhaps she offended her or perhaps he just wanted to—” He falls silent and downs his tea.

”You and Song Lan seem to have a different opinion about him,” Wei Wuxian says after a moment of silence.

”Yes,” Xiao Xingchen says. ”He thinks Xue Yang was—is—irredeemable. I don’t.”

”Really?” Wei Wuxian asks dubiously. ”I mean, after all the things he did and the harm he caused?”

”We both think he lied about his childhood. Song Lan thinks he exaggerated the hardships he’d gone through.”

”And you don’t?”

Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. ”If anything, I think he downplayed it. Which doesn’t justify anything, of course, but…” He shrugs. ”Song Lan says I’m soft-hearted and foolish. Perhaps it is so.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a non-committal sound and pours them more tea.

”We came across A-Qing several months ago. We had been wandering around with no clear destination in mind, mostly trying to find our footing again.” His hand reaches out for the blindfold, then hesitates a split moment before brushing the side of his head. ”We made our way into such a small village it was more like a random collection of houses than a proper village and we knew the moment we saw the first house that something was terribly wrong.

”It wasn’t the silence itself. We’ve been wandering long enough to know that some places are quiet by nature but this was something else. There was a thick layer of…something in the air, oppressive, pressing down like it wanted to flatten the meager huts to the ground. It wasn’t resentment but something like that. All the houses we searched were abandoned with food rotting on the tables and unmade beds filled with dust. We’d seen some of Xue Yang’s handiwork already so we knew to be on our guard. We didn’t sleep out in the open or drink from the well—luckily there was a stream nearby we could use.”

He pauses for a moment and takes several sips from his cup. ”It was the third day when we found A-Qing. Or more like she found us. We were on our way out—there was nothing for us to do there: no fierce corpses, no yaoguai, no lingering curses. Just an empty village with a poisoned well. As we passed the last house, she threw a rock at me and yelled at us to leave.” The small smile that curls Xiao Xingchen’s mouth up lets Wei Wuxian know A-Qing probably used slightly more colorful language. 

”According to her, the village had been a small, happy community, consisting of three or four families and a handful of elders. They were farmers and craftsmen; simple folk who enjoyed simple things. When she’d wandered in, they hadn’t exactly been thrilled but they’d given her food and she’d helped out with the kids and cleaning in return. She said she’d been ready to be on her way when Xue Yang arrived.

”She doesn’t know what happened. Or that’s what she says and neither I nor Song Lan have been able to make her talk about it. But what we’ve managed to piece together from what little she’s shared and the nightmares she’s had, Xue Yang separated the secondary genders, poisoned the omegas, and then conducted experiments on betas and alphas.” He pauses and then says, softly, ”The nightmares sometimes keep her awake at night. She refuses to tell us but…” He falls silent for a long moment, lost in thought. 

Wei Wuxian clears his throat and the sound echoes weirdly in the silence of the Jingshi. ”I don’t think any of us is unfamiliar with nightmares,” he says quietly.

”Mn,” Xiao Xingchen agrees. ”A-Qing isn’t sure how old she is but we estimate she’s around ten now. She’s yet to have her first rut which we believe is what saved her life: instead of experimenting with her like the older alphas, Xue Yang only poured something into her eyes and left her. When she regained her consciousness, her world had changed and he was gone.”

Wei Wuxian is ready to bet all Lan Zhan’s kisses for the rest of the week that that’s not exactly what happened but he doesn’t contradict Xiao Xingchen. It’s desperately obvious he feels guilty about what happened to A-Qing and, before that, to Song Lan while grappling with his complicated feelings about Xue Yang.

”What are you going to do next?” He asks, trying to make Xiao Xingchen think about something else. ”I mean, after all this is over? Do you still want to set up your own sect?”

Xiao Xingchen takes a deep breath and lets it slowly out. ”I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down but then again, I’m not sure if a nomadic sect is practical.”

”How does Song Lan feel about it? Or A-Qing?”

Xiao Xingchen cocks his head with an impression of giving Wei Wuxian a knowing look. ”Song Lan is happy wherever I am but I’m not so sure about A-Qing. She seems very taken on your shidi.”

Wei Wuxian grins, delighted. ”Oh, so you noticed it too? I wish you could see it; they look exactly the same when they glare at each other. It’s adorable!”

”Hm. Perhaps we should head to Yunmeng next?”

Wei Wuxian can’t wait.

The thing with Song Lan is that while he’s not closed off as such, he’s quite hard to corner without either Xiao Xingchen or A-Qing. Wei Wuxian finally manages simply by accident on the third morning of Meng Yao’s heat when Xiao Xingchen is spending the morning with Wen Qing. Wei Wuxian wakes up delightfully painless after a surprisingly good night and decides to add extra forms to his morning exercises.

He’s done with his stretches and into his second repetition of the basic Jiang forms when someone clears their throat.

”Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there, Song Lan,” he greets, slightly out of breath.

”It wasn’t my intention to interrupt,” Song Lan says and bows. ”Your morning routine looks interesting. Effective.”

Wei Wuxian nods. ”It’s basically just Jiang sword forms but slowed down. I can’t practice with Suibian yet so I have to make do with this.” He demonstrates a couple of moves with the cane, grinning at Song Lan’s raised brow.

”Hm. The Baixue Temple also practices sword meditation,” he says after a moment of hesitation. ”I could show you if you’d like.”

They end up practicing a handful of easy moves side by side. Song Lan is an excellent teacher: careful, patient, and respectful, able to help Wei Wuxian understand the forms and transitions with surprisingly few words. After a while, he stops and lets Wei Wuxian move through the forms by himself, correcting him with gentle taps of his sword when needed. When they’re done, Wei Wuxian’s inner robe is damp with sweat but his mind is clear and he’s hungry.

Song Lan waits respectfully outside as Wei Wuxian freshens up and changes into dry robes and then accompanies him to lunch. He and Lan Zhan have been taking their lunch in the common hall during Meng Yao and Xichen’s absence and while it’s been nice in a way, Wei Wuxian already misses the intimacy of just the two of them sharing a meal.

They walk slowly and after a couple of glances that aren’t as subtle as Wei Wuxian hoped, Song Lan says, ”You can ask.”

”I guess I’m that obvious,” he says, embarrassed.

”You are,” Song Lan agrees. ”But Xingchen also told me you’d want to know.” He sighs and stops. ”We disagree on very few things but this is perhaps the biggest issue. He still believes in redemption. I don’t.”

”You know something he doesn’t,” Wei Wuxian realizes. He takes a discreet look around and activates a stealthy privacy talisman, creating a sort of bubble around them.

”Mn. When we were captured, I woke up before Xingchen. Perhaps he didn’t drug me quite as much, or perhaps he wanted to taunt me. It doesn’t matter. I first thought he was muttering at himself but then I realized he was narrating a message. He said, ’Promising results, yet not quite what is needed. Nullification process completed. Transforming incomplete and insufficient. Side projects delightful.’ Back then, I had no idea what he meant but now…”

A cold feeling settles in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s stomach. Xue Yang already had the knowledge to make a heat-inducing drug and now he was experimenting with poisons? Turning alphas null? Transforming—what, secondary genders? What side projects?

He’s jolted from his thoughts when his stomach gurgles, reminding him they were on their way to lunch. He shrugs and laughs, a bit sheepish, and starts forward again. ”So, how are you liking the Cloud Recesses so far?” He asks.

”It’s very beautiful. Serene.” Song Lan pauses and cocks his head, thoughtful. ”Xingchen says that something about it reminds him of Master Baoshan’s mountain.”

”Really? Interesting!”

”Mn. A-Qing says it’s boring.”

Wei Wuxian laughs loud enough to draw frowns from some of the older Lan cultivators making their way to the common hall. ”I already told Xiao Xingchen you should head to Yunmeng next.”

”Perhaps we will,” Song Lan says with a slight smile.

Before they round the corner, Wei Wuxian remembers something that’s been nagging him from the moment Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, and A-Qing arrived. He stops and glances quickly around before he asks, genuinely curious, ”How did you know to come here anyway? Did Huaisang message you?”

”Huaisang?” Song Lan repeats, confused. ”No. After the echoes of what happened in Nightless City and the decimation of Tingshan He, Xingchen said we must head Northeast, and that ’We’re needed.’ I didn’t understand what he meant until we met you.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to react to that but he’s saved by Lan Zhan who stops next to him, exchanges nods with Song Lan, and then, gentle but insistent, guides Wei Wuxian inside.

As he eats the bland food, his mind keeps running. Xue Yang had been conducting terrible experiments on people, striving for something, reporting to someone. Su She was a former peripheral disciple who betrayed the sect but who wasn’t working alone. 

He sighs and glances up at the seats occupied by white-robed Lan cultivators. They sit in silence, concentrate on their food, hold their postures straight and their chopsticks properly. The room is full of quietly eating Lans and—

If there’s no way of knowing to whom Xue Yang has been reporting…what then?

What the hell is he supposed to do next?

By principle, Lan Qiren did not dwell on things he couldn’t change. That didn’t mean he didn’t try at first, but as soon as it became evident that change was impossible, he stopped. Why should he try to move the mountain if it was impossible? Better to circumvent it, make use of it the best way possible, and then ignore it.

That personal rule had worked for him earlier in his life. It had helped him to navigate his youth, the tumultuous years of following his brother until he no longer could, and what came after.

That personal rule rested on the collection of Lan Sect Disciplines and it was a solid strategy. Reliable.

So why did it no longer work?

•••

Zemin used to be his anchor and compass, the reliable big brother who understood the complicated nuances between people, the way their reasoning fluctuated, the way they sometimes reacted irrationally. As a beta, Qiren missed most of the nonverbal communication, especially when he was younger. Zemin was an alpha and trained to control and observe since he was a toddler. 

Sometimes Qiren envied him. 

Then he remembered what a heavy burden Zemin would be carrying when he came of age and when the responsibility of the whole sect would rest on him and his choices. Of course he would need and deserve more guidance. It was Zemin’s duty to learn to control himself and read others, while it was Qiren’s duty to learn the rules, to be his brother’s second, and to be the rock his Sect Leader could lean on when needed. 

So that’s what Qiren did. He studied hard, recited the rules until they lived within him, and practiced his guqin and xiao until his teachers bowed to him and Father gave him a satisfied nod. It made him feel accomplished. 

Zemin smiled and clapped his shoulder and Qiren was sure this was what happiness felt like. This warm, secure feeling of knowing his place in the sect, in the world.

It didn’t last.

•••

No one quite managed to explain what the female omegas were doing among the other students, mingling freely with the alphas and betas, and challenging them at will. They had applied for attendance and for reasons Qiren didn’t understand, they were permitted.

It was a disaster, of course because they made no sense. The way they acted contradicted the rules Qiren had devoted his life to but the way they contradicted them was…it was a discord he grappled with each night before falling asleep and faced it anew in the morning when he opened his eyes. Cangse Sanren and Xue Xiurong disrupted the peaceful, orderly life of the Cloud Recesses, and nothing made sense anymore. They were loud and happy and asked questions that made the old Master Lan’s formidable eyebrows shake with rage, especially when he couldn’t dismiss their questions as insignificant.

They disrupted the careful control of his sect and Qiren resented them for it.

(Only much, much later he would start to wonder whom the renowned, impeccable Lan control was for and why.)

•••

He had always been taught that children should be seen but not heard. That was how he and Zemin had been brought up: quiet, well-behaved, performing their duties as expected. It gave him a deep sense of accomplishment to follow the familiar paths carved ready for him through generations before him. It was familiar, safe, reliable. It was how generations of Lan children had been brought up.

It was good.

Wangji’s protege makes him question why.

The first time he sees the boy is the moment Wangji carries Wei Wuxian through the gate. He is a small thing with a messy bun and round cheeks, staring at him curiously from behind Wangji’s legs, and he looks so much like Xichen that, for a moment, Qiren forgets how to breathe. And then it is all lost behind the impenetrable wall of Wangji’s anger, Xichen’s disappointment, and the new Lan-furen’s polite smiles. They all make him feel small and it is not a feeling he’s familiar with.

Why would he feel small when he’s trying to do the right thing? It makes no sense.

On their own accord, his feet would take him past the young disciple’s quarters, the house where the children too young for real lessons spend their days. Little A-Yuan is often a bit to the side, learning his letters or practicing basic arithmetics with pebbles, face scrunched up in concentration. When he gets something right, he would exclaim in wonder or let out a delighted laugh, only to be quickly silenced by the caretakers. It always makes something constrict in Qiren’s chest and he hurries along, unwilling to stay and watch as the joy slowly slides away from the boy’s face.

(One day, he finds himself near a meadow where Wangji often takes his…Wei Wuxian, and freezes when he hears bright laughter. Of course it’s Wei Wuxian with Wangji and the little A-Yuan who is giggling at something Wei Wuxian had said. The boy holds a piece of paper at Wangji who nods and says something in a low voice Qiren didn’t hear, and then he smiles at the beaming boy. Qiren hurries away from the scene which makes him feel troubled and his eyes misty, and in his turmoil, he misses both the stick he accidentally steps on and the narrowed, golden gaze that follows him. 

The next day, he revises the rules for the youngest disciples, advising the caretakers to be supportive instead of dismissive. He doesn’t see the need to inform the rest of the sect of the change. He’s in charge of all tutoring in the Cloud Recesses after all.)

•••

Cangse Sanren was different from anyone Qiren had ever met. She was undeniably brilliant, unconventional in her thinking and argument, exceptional cultivator despite her genders and young age. She also clearly didn’t need to be there and that was perhaps what confused Qiren the most. She was the disciple of the immortal Baoshan Sanren which itself gave her a status far above regular cultivators. She had no interest in joining a sect, nor did she care about inter-sect politics. As far as Qiren could tell, the only reason she was in the Cloud Recesses was her friend, Xue Xiurong which, well. She was a headache Qiren would’ve rather not acknowledged at all.

And yet.

There was something magnetic about them, the way they moved and fought, and if Qiren as a beta saw that, so did the others. Which meant the lecture was perhaps the most uncoordinated Qiren had attended or would attend (until one Wei Wuxian, that was) but there was also something hot and daring burning under his sternum. He felt alive in a new way—not the kind described in the inane texts some visiting students always brought along, but in a pure way. The sky was clearer and his eyes sharper and despite all the disruption, he enjoyed it.

There were rules to regulate one’s behavior for a reason but he just—

At least for a short moment, he didn’t understand why. Why was it so important to stay in control? Where was the harm in letting go? The rules guided them but surely they weren’t meant for excessive restrictions? Surely—

•••

”Xue Xiurong killed Lan Renshu!”

”We should’ve never let omegas attend the lecture!”

”The punishment for killing in the Cloud Recesses is execution!”

”Banish the other omega! They are colluding, banish her!”

”They should be both imprisoned for their crime!”

Madness. It was madness. First the death of a respected teacher, then finding the Forbidden Chamber breached. Xue Xiurong claimed she had been the one to break into the Forbidden Chamber which meant that Cangse Sanren wasn’t imprisoned but merely banished from the Cloud Recesses and it was left to Xue Xiurong to bear the full brunt of the punishment.

And then—

And then came the time Qiren will never either forgive or forget.

How could he when his brother suddenly lost his reasoning and couldn’t explain how or why he smuggled Xue Xiurong to the Cold Pond Cave and took her as his mate? How could he when an empty vial of potion was found and Xue Xiurong admitted drugging Zemin? How could he when it became clear this…omega was not only their new Lan-furen but also carrying the next sect heir inside her?

How could he?

How could—

How could he when Zemin turned away from the world and sealed himself into his rooms as a punishment, leaving everything Qiren’s responsibility?

How could he when, somehow, Xue Xiurong did it again?

How could he?

•••

Wei Wuxian was so much like his mother it hurt. The same, bright laugh, the same, careless power and grace, the same unflinching intellect that was way too easily directed to mischief and disruption.

Sometimes Qiren wondered if things would’ve been different if he hadn’t known about the boy’s parentage.

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Would it have made a difference when Wangji fell head over heels in love with him? Would it have mattered at all when all Qiren could see were the echoes of the previous generation as ghostly images on top of them—Cangse Sanren’s smile hovering over Wei Wuxian’s bright face and Zemin’s fever burning in Wangji’s too-young eyes.

Would it have made a difference when the terror gripped him and made him lash out?

No, it wouldn’t.

He tried to fix things but he should’ve known that when it came to his nephews, he would always find himself lacking. Lacking the warmth he’d seen in Xue Xiurong’s eyes, lacking the love in her touch. Qiren’s was hard, unyielding love, brittle and cold, a thing he didn’t know how to change even if he so wished.

But he tried.

He made sure his nephews lived, even though he doubted they neither wanted nor needed his help. He held his head high as they reprimanded him for his actions and then spent the next weeks combing through all his decisions with a ruthless, clinical eye, dissecting his reasoning and action. 

He stayed out of the new Lan-furen’s way and watched from the side as smiles found their way back on Xichen’s face and how his eyes were alight with life and happiness.

He asked after Wei Wuxian’s recovery—which was a mistake because it was too soon and he stupidly thought to keep it a secret from Wangji—and then watched in helpless frustration as the reckless boy almost died after touching a heavily cursed object, and Wangji nearly shattered, thinking he was about to lose his mate. Again.

What was that—the third time that had happened? Wei Wuxian really should take better care of himself. And if he couldn’t do it, others would have to step up.

That’s what Qiren tells himself when he commissions the light wooden cane. 

That’s what he tells Doctor Wen when he asks for the proper spells to embed into it to make sure it would help Wei Wuxian’s recovery instead of hindering it. 

That’s what he tells Wangji the day when his nephew speaks to him for the first time in what feels like years.

•••

He knows what his nephews think of him. Of course he does. He’s raised them to his best ability and he knows he’s failed—first because they felt the need to rebel against the rules and then…well. 

He’s failed them.

His nephews believe he hates their mates but they are wrong. It isn’t disdain, either—it is the fact that despite trying to follow the rules he’s wronged them. He has hurt his family and the dissonance between what he knows is right by the rules and right by the heart is tearing him apart.

Lan Qiren has lived and breathed the rules his entire life. 

And he is slowly starting to realize they are not quite right.

They finally reach a breakthrough on the sixth day of Meng Yao’s heat. (The reason Wei Wuxian keeps time this way is that he can’t wait to dump the boring morning meetings back on Meng Yao’s lap.) It happens part by accident, part by meticulous planning and in hindsight, it makes perfect sense. The journal’s wards are paired, constructed from Baoshan Sanren and Meishan Yu’s special skillset, of course they would need the input of literal alpha/omega scent manipulation. 

And then there’s the last ward, small and inconspicuous with a hidden, cruel twist that would turn it into a nasty curse if it wasn’t dismantled properly. Something so subtle that it would’ve gone unnoticed by someone less skilled.

Luckily for them. Wei Wuxian and Xiao Xingchen are just that good.

And, as it turns out, it’s a perfectly normal journal—or well, as normal as something that heavily warded can be. But it opens to pages upon pages of everyday life documented in a carefree scrawl that starts mostly neat but gets messier toward the end. Wei Wuxian leafs through it in a hurry, wanting to see if there’s anything that requires his immediate attention—he isn’t sure what that could be but you never know, right? There are no diagrams or loose leaves falling out but every now and then, the pages are stained what looks like spilled tea. Here and there are clumsy drawings with side notes telling how old Xichen or Lan Zhan were when their mother let them practice their skills in her journal. 

Perhaps that was her way to preserve the innocence of her children, to keep them near her in spirit when they weren’t allowed to be there in person.

”Xue Xiurong,” he mutters. ”Xue for snow and Xiurong for beautiful glory.” For what little he knows of the former Lan-furen, it feels right.

”So, what happens next?” Xiao Xingchen asks.

”Well, we have to read it,” he says and bites his lip. ”But…I don’t think we should tell anyone that we’ve managed to open it. Not yet anyway.”

Xiao Xingchen cocks his head, considering. ”I think you’re right. Whatever—whoever—is behind this all will most likely stay calm if they think we’re still trying to open the journal.” He lets out a small sigh. ”I would’ve been better if you picking it up wasn’t public knowledge within the sect but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

”Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson on that,” Wei Wuxian says, sheepish.

”Have you?”

Wei Wuxian looks up, slightly offended, and sees the amused tilt on Xiao Xingchen’s smile. ”You are as bad as Lan Zhan,” he grumbles.

”I take that as a compliment,” his shixiong says, sounding unreasonably smug. He reaches out to touch Wei Wuxian’s wrist. ”Maybe you should read it yourself first,” he says. ”I don’t think it’s just a set of instructions for those who came after her—it’s still her journal, storing her memories and feelings. She might have sealed it with powerful spells but it was still written by a mother.”

”Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says softly, tracing a finger along an endearingly misshapen drawing of a purple flower. It says, ’A-Huan, three years’ next to it.

”Yeah,” he says again and then clears his throat. His cheeks feel hot and his eyes burn at the thought of little Xichen and Lan Zhan sitting on their mother’s lap, practicing their brush skills on this journal. Gently, he closes the book and brushes the cover with trembling fingers before gripping the journal in his hands. ”What do you think, should we put new wards on it?”

Xiao Xingchen lets out a considering sound and reaches out his hand to hover his fingers over the journal. ”It feels dormant now—or at least it feels dormant to me, which could mean the wards are inactive or that the journal merely recognizes me as one who is allowed to open it. It might or might not react to a stranger. New wards might be the safest option but perhaps nothing as extensive as before.”

They settle on a talisman Xiao Xingchen learned from his master. While it doesn’t require a massive amount of spiritual energy, it’s complicated enough to make it both powerful and extremely difficult to dismantle unless you know what you’re doing. Since it’s something Baoshan Sanren teaches it personally to a selected few, it’s pretty safe to assume Xiao Xingchen is the only cultivator who currently knows it. He teaches it to Wei Wuxian and gives him permission to teach it to Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang.

”Depending on how things develop, you three might need an additional safety measure to your correspondence,” he says. ”And now that it’s settled, it’s time to meditate.” 

Wei Wuxian lets out a groan. ”Do we have to? I already did the Baixue sword meditation this morning!”

”This is another of my master’s exclusive lessons,” Xiao Xingchen says serenely.

It’s cruel because he fully knows Wei Wuxian won’t be able to resist learning whatever he can of his martial grandmother. So, with the journal safely tucked away, Wei Wuxian grumbles and pouts, but when he settles into the lotus position, there’s anticipation curling in his chest. ”Okay, I’m ready.”

Xiao Xingchen smiles and starts the lesson.

On the morning of the eighth day, Meng Yao and Xichen return from their heat leave. They look tired and happy, and there’s a certain relaxed fluidity in the way they move around each other. 

”Did you have a good time?” Wei Wuxian asks cheekily as they’re having tea in Meng Yao’s office. The room is an older office space now repurposed as the Lan-furen’s workspace, providing both ample storage room and privacy due to its location being slightly to the side of the sect main buildings. The space is neat and orderly as usual, and the only sign of Wei Wuxian’s presence during the past week is a crooked stack of documents on the corner of Meng Yao’s desk. 

Meng Yao barely raises a brow and finishes the notes he was taking throughout Wei Wuxian’s report. ”Yes,” he says. ”You mentioned Lan Yunru’s wrist. What did you mean by that?”

”Ah,” Wei Wuxian mentally backpedals to what they’d been talking about. ”Oh, right. I walked by their house the other day on my way to get A-Yuan. She was sitting outside taking a break and while we chatted, I noticed the way she was holding her left hand. Back in Yunmeng, some weavers developed pains in their wrists—not quite an arthritis but something like that—and it reminded me of them.”

Meng Yao adds a couple of notes. ”Thank you. I’ll ask Lan Xiaoqing to take a look.”

”Really?” When Meng Yao looks sharpy up, Wei Wuxian raises a placating hand. ”No, I mean, is this a thing that needs the head healer’s attention? I’m genuinely curious.”

Meng Yao sets his brush down. ”Yunmeng uses certain dyes that aren’t available anywhere else, am I correct?” Wei Wuxian nods. ”And some of those dyes, especially in the purple, can in a longer exposure cause joint inflammation, correct?”

”Ahhh,” Wei Wuxian says, catching up. ”And since the blue dye used in Gusu is from plants from the same lineage as the Yunmeng plants, you worry that they might also cause similar problems to non-cultivators.”

”Yes.”

Wei Wuxian smiles and shakes his head fondly. ”You’re really good at this, you know?”

Meng Yao blinks, slightly taken aback, but his scent turns pleased. ”I do enjoy it when I can do my work well.” He looks over the document, nods, and rolls it up to set it aside. ”Speaking of A-Yuan, what are your plans?”

”Official adoption, if Qing-jie is amenable.”

Meng Yao hums and raises a brow at Wei Wuxian’s choice of address, then takes the topmost document from the pile of Wei Wuxian’s paperwork, quickly scans the contents, and picks up his brush again. ”Mn. Do you think she would appreciate a preliminary draft of the document?” He asks and turns the paper around. In the middle of a regular upper Gusu farming report is a question, ’Did you manage to open it?’

Wei Wuxian nods. ”She might. It’s been a while since we last talked about it, though.”

Meng Yao writes another note on the report. ”I should probably ask A-Huan. It’s been a while since the last official adoption to the main family.” ’Who knows?’

Wei Wuxian reaches out his hand and takes the brush. ’Xiao Xingchen.’  ”When was that?”

Meng Yao purses his lips and narrows his eyes slightly. ”To be honest, I’m not sure. I think there’s a second or third cousin that was adopted somewhere around Wangji’s birth but that’s it.”  ’Let’s keep it that way for now.’

Wei Wuxian frowns. He’d like to tell Lan Zhan because frankly, he has the right to know but if Meng Yao is being this cautious… So, he presses his lips together and gives the other omega a tight nod. ”A-Yuan will look so cute with a forehead ribbon, don’t you think?” He hesitates a moment and then writes, ’Don’t tell anyone about the adoption plans yet.’

Something flashes in Meng Yao’s eyes. ”Of course he will,” he says with a smile. ’A test?’

Wei Wuxian nods and then knocks down the inkstone. ”Shit, I’m sorry. Now I got ink all over your desk!”

With an eye roll, Meng Yao cleans the mess up, neatly rendering the document completely unreadable in the process. ”Yes, thank you. I believe this was all.”

”Are you sure you don’t want me to continue with the morning meetings?”

This time the flat look is completely genuine. ”Absolutely not. You’ve done enough.”

Wei Wuxian winks and pushes himself up with only a slight twinge in his lower back. ”I’ll go hunt down A-Yuan then. I bet he’ll be better company than you anyway.”

”Gambling is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao calls after him.

He starts toward the guest residences with a grin on his face and a heavy feeling in his gut.

In the middle of his own excitement about the mysterious journal, it’s easy to forget that the world moves on as usual. Jiang Cheng sends him a letter about the mudslide incident and the fever still plaguing the non-cultivators, and Wei Wuxian replies with some suggestions on how to reinforce the riverbanks. After asking Wen Qing, he adds some of her advice on herbs that would help the recovering Yunmeng people. They don’t talk about Wei Wuxian’s possible return as the Head Disciple and he’s more than fine with it. He knows that while he’s more than capable of giving talisman lessons and guiding the young into sword forms, full-time Head Disciple duties are no longer an option. First, his body isn’t able to deal with the strain, and second…well, he’s part of the Lan sect now, isn’t he?

They’ll probably need to work out some kind of schedule. Perhaps they could spend the winters in Yunmeng and the summers in Gusu? Wei Wuxian has to ask Lan Zhan about it.

Shijie writes him every week. She talks a bit about the people of Yunmeng and how they miss Wei Wuxian (which might be true but also, shijie might be exaggerating because she knows saying things like that make him so embarrassed), but mostly she talks about life in Jinlintai. Sometimes she asks his opinion on weird things like the young Zhoushan Zhao alpha, which makes him wonder if she’s now playing a matchmaker for someone. All in all, she sounds like she’s in a good mood and that she likes what she sees but she also…Look. Thing is, shijie has this way of talking about stuff like she’s perfectly fine with them but she also manages to insert gentle scolding and suggestions, and then you kind of have an intense need to make them happen because that would make her happy. Wei Wuxian knows this because he’s been subjected to her suggestions most of his life. 

So to him, it seems like the bones of Koi Tower are mostly fine but some of the flesh is rotten which means she’s planning to do some selective surgery.

He grins.

The Jin won’t know what hit them. Luckily, it seems like Madam Jin—no, that’s Sect Leader Jin now, he really should try to remember that—is very fond of her and has given her a lot of freedom. And if shijie’s comments are anything to go by, Jin Zixuan also seems to be supporting her (which in Wei Wuxian’s mind is the least he can do). So it seems shijie is happy where she is. 

It hits him then, the realization that this is it: The Yunmeng Trio is now fully separated and will most likely stay that way. Shijie will be married off to Lanling and Wei Wuxian is mated to a Lan, leaving Jiang Cheng alone in their childhood home and—wait. Is that how he feels, left alone? Wei Wuxian surely hopes not but knowing Jiang Cheng, that might actually be the case. He’d never admit it out loud, especially now that the Jiang sect is still recovering and vulnerable, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s most likely true.

Hm. 

Wei Wuxian will have to do something about it.

An angry yell and a gurgled hoot jerk him from his thoughts. He’s been sitting on the porch, reading shijie’s latest letter and as he glances up, he sees A-Qing standing on the path leading to the Jingshi. She’s shaking her fist at Zhiqiang and her scowl, once again, reminds him of Jiang Cheng. 

”Don’t harass my owl!” He calls.

”Your stupid owl was harassing me!” A-Qing yells back. She stomps to Wei Wuxian and sits down without an invitation, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

”Can I help you?” He asks, amused.

”You’re weird,” A-Qing says. 

He blinks. ”Thank you?”

”But the way you’re treated is even weirder,” she continues, ignoring him. ”I might be young and stupid but I’m not an idiot. Or deaf.”

”What?”

”Because Xingchen-ge and Zizhen-ge explained to me what you did. I saw that, you know? They felt it and I saw it, even though none of us understood what it was. But you were a fucking badass, Xian-ge! You ended the asshole like THIS—” she makes a slashing motion with her hand, ”—and then you ended the whole war like THAT—” she throws her hands open, ”—and these huffy Lans act like it’s no big deal!”

Wei Wuxian feels strangely warmed by her indignation. ”Well, I also dabbled with forbidden cultivation practices—”

”But did you, though? I mean, is it forbidden because it’s always a bad thing or is it ’forbidden’—” she makes a face at the word, ”—because no one bothered to actually learn properly? Doesn’t the Nie sect also use demonic cultivation?”

”I—” Wei Wuxian stops and gives her a long look. ”You’re wrong, by the way,” he says. ”You’re not stupid, far from it.”

”Of course I am. I can’t even read and—”

”No,” Wei Wuxian says gently but firmly interrupting her. ”Being illiterate doesn’t mean you’re stupid. You survived on your own on the streets, that makes you smart. And you survived Xue Yang. If you were stupid, you’d be dead. Instead, you’ve learned to take advantage of your ability. You can read people and situations easily and while your manners might be a bit lacking, that doesn’t make you stupid, either.” Not to mention your thoughts on demonic cultivation, he thinks.

She ducks her head and scowls at a small dent on the porch. ”That’s not what most people here think.”

”That’s their loss,” he says.

She doesn’t comment but scratches the dent with a nail. ”Is your brother always that pissed off?” She asks after a moment, feigning nonchalance.

”Oh, if he keeps swearing at you it means he likes you,” he grins. ”I told him he should invite you and your dads to Lotus Pier.”

She makes a face. ”They’re not my dads,” she retorts. ”They’re…I like traveling with them but—”

”Perhaps you would like a place to call home?” He says softly.

She shrugs and keeps scowling at the dent. Wei Wuxian wonders what she sees when she looks at her hands. Are they black against black or something else?

Also, if she’s too late to develop a golden core, she couldn’t wield Zidian. In that case…Hm. Should he send a letter to Meishan? It’s been ages since he last heard from old Teacher Yu.

Some part of him wondered if anything should or would change after his and Lan Zhan’s weird magical bonding, if they would be more attuned to each other or if they could sense each other’s feelings or thoughts. Turns out it didn’t and they can’t but since Lan Zhan is always paying attention to him, it probably doesn’t even matter.

”Would you want to?” Lan Zhan asks him one night after Wei Wuxian babbled something or the other—look, he can’t be held accountable for what he says when Lan Zhan is fucking him silly, can he? 

”I don’t know. Probably not.”

Lan Zhan noses the nape of his neck and it makes him shiver. ”You know I have nothing to hide from you.”

”It’s not—stop that, I can’t think properly when you—I don’t mean that you have something to hide.” He sighs and twines their fingers together and then wiggles a bit to get closer to Lan Zhan. ”I can read your face, most of the time at least. And I can read your scent. And you can read me like an open book—sometimes almost too well. Why would we need a, I don’t know, a telepathic bond on top of that?”

Lan Zhan hums. ”Not too well,” he murmurs. ”I know you’re hiding something from me.”

He can’t help it, he freezes in Lan Zhan’s arms. ”I—”

”I can only assume it has something to do with Mother’s journal,” Lan Zhan says. ”And you have a reason to keep it a secret.”

”I—” He turns around, wincing at the slight tug when Lan Zhan slips out from him. ”Lan Zhan, I—” He cups his mate’s cheek in his hand and looks into his eyes (his gorgeous, golden! Eyes!) ”I’m sorry! I swear I—”

Lan Zhan presses a finger on his lips, silencing him. ”Don’t. Just…promise you’ll be careful,” he whispers and presses their foreheads together. ”Please, Wei Ying. Be careful.”

”I will, I promise,” he says and kisses Lan Zhan. ”I’ll be careful, Lan Zhan. I promise!” He wraps his arm around Lan Zhan and squeezes him tight, tucks his face in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck. He can feel his mate tremble and he knows it’s not because of Wei Wuxian’s naked body pressed close. No, this is Lan Zhan who is almost vibrating with the need to keep him safe. This is Lan Zhan who remembers when Wei Wuxian was hurt and who is desperate to keep him from harm’s way.

But.

The things he’s read in the journal make him sick. They make him furious. And they make him afraid. 

Gusu Lan is harboring monsters behind the polished facade of rules and regulations, under the pristine white robes and impeccable control. That much is clear from Xue Xiurong’s entries. But there are no definitive clues of just who they are, other than that they are influential and respected. Elders? Likely but not sure.

Wei Wuxian would like nothing more than to burn the Lan rulebooks to ashes but since the rules live inside the Lan cultivators who have been conditioned to follow them since birth, that wouldn’t make much difference. After all, Lan Zhan destroyed the Wall of Discipline in a fit of insanity—which, boy does Wei Wuxian feel conflicted about that. Hacking the Wall of Discipline to pieces is pretty awesome but Lan Zhan did that at a terrible price after Wei Wuxian rejected him.

It could’ve ended up with Lan Zhan dead or permanently weakened. Thank the heavens, it didn’t. 

He wants to tell Lan Zhan—and he will! Soon!—but he just knows that if he does, Lan Zhan’s fury will burn the Cloud Recesses down and he doesn’t want that. No matter how rigid the Lan are, not everything about the sect is bad. 

Just. Most of it. 

Even though he tries to control his scent, some of his anxiety leaks through, and Lan Zhan lets out a distressed sound. 

”I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian whispers into his skin. ”I just remembered how much I’ve put you through. I’m so sorry.”

Lan Zhan’s hands clench against his back, betraying his feelings even though he tries to comfort Wei Wuxian, stupidly claiming there’s no need for him to say sorry. Of course there is—there are so many things Wei Wuxian needs to apologize for but Lan Zhan stubbornly doesn’t want to listen!

He falls asleep in his mate’s tight embrace, wishing there was a way to make sure his loved ones would never get hurt.

The morning meetings with Xiao Xingchen continue. On the surface, they keep on working to disable the wards on the journal but in reality, they meditate and talk. The former isn’t perhaps what Wei Wuxian would like to do but to get Xiao Xingchen to talk, he has to subject himself to meditation. And fine, Immortal Baoshan Sanren’s style of meditation is more dynamic than what he’s used to, and fine, it does help with both the aches and pains  of his frustrating body and his strange core. 

After the Cold Pond Cave, he and Lan Zhan haven’t been dual cultivating, not really. He doesn’t think that the small amount of spiritual energy they keep trickling into each other and back actually counts. Isn’t dual cultivation supposed to be a massive exchange of spiritual energy? He should ask Wen Qing someday and hope she would take the question seriously instead of just threatening him with her needles. Anyway, since then, his core has been content with no weird leakages but he feels like these quiet moments with his shixiong’s help. He feels surer in his skin and more relaxed, and something in the way Xiao Xingchen guides him to circulate his spiritual energy supports his back so that his insistent, intense pain attacks grow both rarer and easier to manage.

Well. Who would’ve thought regular exercise helps! He grins, shakes his head, and offers warm thoughts wherever Yu-furen’s spirit dwells.

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan are also still helping Lan Qiren and Xichen to map out Su Minshan’s whereabouts and where he might head next. It’s both ridiculously easy because on one hand, he keeps wearing his Gusu Lan outfit like a costume and is, therefore, easily recognizable. On the other hand, it’s surprisingly hard because he seems to pop up randomly and often a long distance from his last sighting. It indicates that either he’s flying his sword and massively more powerful than any of them could even imagine (highly doubtful) or he has a transportation talisman. And that’s disconcerting.

Obviously, Xiao Xingchen can’t stay forever, no matter how much Wei Wuxian enjoys having him there. He and Song Lan have their own dreams and goals in life and while they’re happy to help, there’s an undercurrent of a need to be on their way. Understandable but still not something Wei Wuxian is eagerly waiting for. Apart from the stories Xue Xiurong has written down, Xiao Xingchen is his only link to his mother and he already hates the moment he has to watch him walk out of the Cloud Recesses’ gates.

”It doesn’t mean they won’t come to visit,” Meng Yao reminds him one day when they’re taking a walk. 

After getting his duties running the way he wanted, Meng Yao has been taking a morning stroll that just happens to take him past the Jingshi. He and Wei Wuxian often walk together and it’s surprisingly fun. Meng Yao has a sharp mind and he has a way to throw insults with such a sweet smile that it renders Wei Wuxian both speechless and unable to hold back bouts of hysterical laughter. But he’s also extremely perceptive which can sometimes be just plain annoying. 

Like now.

”I know,” he replies a bit tersely. ”It’s just—”

”Talisman classes and taking care of A-Yuan should probably fill your days perfectly.”

”You know, sometimes you’re really annoying, Meng Yao.”

”Oh, thank you,” he says with that polite, dimpled smile of his. ”Coming from you, that’s a ringing endorsement.” And then his steps falter and something ripples across his face, making Wei Wuxian immediately concerned. Before he has the chance to ask, Meng Yao shakes his head almost imperceptibly and his eyes drop to Wei Wuxian’s stomach and back up. 

Oh.

Oh.

He swallows and curls his happy scent carefully around Meng Yao, brushing his cheek with a smile. 

He’s going to be an Uncle. Lan Zhan is going to be an Uncle!

He’s so swept up in his emotions that he doesn’t realize someone’s walking toward them before Meng Yao grabs his hand. ”Is it your back again?” He asks, pressing down hard on the nail bed of Wei Wuxian’s thumb.

He hisses at the pain and glances up to see Lan Qiren’s unimpressed face. ”My left leg, actually,” he says.

”Hm,” Lan Qiren says, giving him a judgmental once-over. ”Have you been eating properly?” He asks after a beat. There’s something stilted in the way he talks, like he’s not completely comfortable with standing there with them.

”Yes, I have,” he says meekly. ”Lan Zhan makes sure I don’t miss a meal and he always adds the healing herbs in.”

Lan Qiren nods and clears his throat. ”I will ask Lan Xiaoqing to prepare a batch of liniment and have it sent to the Jingshi.”

”Uh, okay? I mean, thank you, Grand Master,” he says, bewildered, staring with wide eyes as Lan Qiren starts to continue to wherever he was going.

Then he stops, frowns, and turns partially back. ”Wei Wuxian,” he says without meeting his eyes. ”Your plan to adopt A-Yuan. I support you and Wangji.”

”Thank you, Grand Master,” he forces out and bows. ”That means a lot.”

He stares at Lan Qiren’s retreating back for a long moment before turning slowly to face Meng Yao. His face is as pleasant as ever but the look in his eyes is telling.

Their test to see if someone was spying on them in Meng Yao’s office.

Lan Qiren knows about the adoption plan.

Wei Wuxian feels sick.

”Would you be comfortable if Lan Zhan and I came down for dinner tonight?” He asks with a slightly fixed smile. ”Lan Zhan said the report from the latest night hunt was ’interesting’ which means there’s something wrong and he’d like to talk to Xichen-ge about it.” On the cover of Meng Yao’s wide sleeve, he draws a quick privacy talisman that activates with a jarring burst of spiritual energy. ”I’ll bring it tonight, you need to read it,” he says with a grin and a shrug and lets the talisman dissipate.

”Please refrain from dousing everything in chili oil this time,” Meng Yao says, exasperated. ”The smell lingers.”

”Bah,” he scoffs. ”A little flavor never harmed anyone!”

He keeps his grin on and his steps unhurried as he heads back to the Jingshi.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

He tells Lan Zhan that Meng Yao invited them for dinner that night. He makes sure to wrap the journal properly and tucks it into the giankun pouch so that no one can see he’s bringing it along. Lan Zhan and Xichen look over the report—Wei Wuxian wasn’t lying about that—and then they have dinner. Wei Wuxian pours a bit less chili oil into his portion this time. 

And then, Meng Yao tells them he’s pregnant. 

”I would tackle you to the floor if I didn’t know you’d bury me in administrative work for years for that,” Wei Wuxian says with a huge grin. Xichen’s smile is radiant and his eyes shine as he looks at Meng Yao and next to Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan has tears in his eyes.

”Brother,” he says and then chokes up.

”Wangji,” Xichen says, sounding just as emotional.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and shares an amused look with Meng Yao. 

As the brothers are being silently emotional together, Wei Wuxian nudges Meng Yao to the side, discreetly slips the giankun pouch to Meng Yao, and shows him how to disable the ward protecting it and how to replace it. As Xiao Xingchen said, the journal seems to be dormant now and lets Meng Yao open it—they try it extremely carefully, of course, due to the pregnancy.

”Should I let A-Huan read it too?” Meng Yao asks in a low voice.

”I leave it to you. Xingchen pointed out that no matter what secrets it holds, it was still written by their mother. They should read it at some point anyway.” He shrugs and smiles sadly. ”You’ll get it when you see the flowers.”

Meng Yao lets out a curious hum but doesn’t comment.

By joint decision, they decide to keep the pregnancy secret for now. After all, it’s in the early stages and anything could go wrong, no matter how careful they are. They’ll stay silent for now but if everything goes well, it won’t be long until Meng Yao’s scent will give the secret away anyway.

He’s feeling oddly relieved when they bid Xichen and Meng Yao goodnight. Soon, he won’t be the only one who knows just how fucked up the Lan sect’s core is. Lan Zhan raises a quizzical brow as they start to slowly make their way home but he just shakes his head and smiles. 

They’re past the last fork on the path when a disciple hurries toward them. ”My apologies, Hanguang-jun,” he says, sounding out of breath. ”I know it’s late but there’s been an incident in the junior disciple’s quarters. I—there was a—” He pauses and winces. ”Two young alphas. Peripheral disciples.”

Lan Zhan sighs. Posturing fights are extremely rare in the Cloud Recesses due to the control training and the forehead ribbons but they happen sometimes. Especially among the peripheral disciples who don’t have the right to wear the forehead ribbon and therefore, don’t have the extra control it provides. And since Lan Zhan is the one currently in charge of the junior disciples…

”It’s okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a smile. ”I’m almost home anyway. Go take care of the juniors.”

Lan Zhan looks like he’d rather do anything but deal with hormonal preteens but he nods and follows the disciple. Wei Wuxian watches him for a moment, then sighs, and turns to head home.

He takes three steps and—

—Pain blooms in the back of his head.

And then, darkness.

He wakes up to a throbbing pain in the back of his skull. It radiates down his spine and dances small starbursts on the periphery of his field of vision. He feels like a bruise stored in a bag of wool but he forgets it when he realizes he can neither speak nor move. He’s laying slightly on his side with a bag over his head which means he also can’t see.

And his core—

For a brief moment, he’s swallowed by blinding panic. He can’t feel his core, he can’t feel his bond to Lan Zhan, he can’t reach out for resentful energy, he can’t move, he can’t see, he can’t— Someone has him. 

Someone has him.

And Wei Wuxian has no idea why.

With his jaw locked by what can only be the Lan muting spell, all he can let out are small whimpers and even that is hard when he’s trying to gasp air through his nose. The pain in his head makes him feel sick—or perhaps it’s the bag or the fact that he can’t feel his core—but he knows there’s nothing he can do about it now because he can’t move and—

(Distantly, he wonders just how furious will both Wen Qing and Lan Zhan be if he ends up having a full-body spasm for hours.)

Through his panic, he hears a knock and then footsteps and then voices. He forces himself to slow his breathing and listen because he might need the information if—

”—the book you asked for,” a man says.

”Thank you.” 

Wait. That’s Lan Qiren!

”Have you seen Wei Wuxian?”

”Not since yesterday.” The other voice sounds distantly familiar. ”Wasn’t he supposed to give a talisman lesson this afternoon?”

”Ah, yes…” Lan Qiren sounds troubled. ”That’s not—I was merely wondering if he would’ve liked to talk about A-Yuan. If they really plan an official adoption.”

”That was my understanding, yes,” the other man says amicably. ”Was there a problem?”

”No,” Lan Qiren’s reply is instant. ”I wanted to make sure he knows I fully support them.”

”Oh.” A short silence. ”Well, if I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

”Yes, of course.” A short moment later, a door closes.

As he hears footsteps approaching, Wei Wuxian tries to breathe as carefully as he can. If he manages to stay still and keep his breathing even, perhaps his kidnapper will think he’s still unconscious. It would buy him some time to figure out what to do.

The door slides open and then closed again as the man enters the room. He moves around a bit, pouring something into a cup and stirring it, and the quiet clinks echo in the silence of the space. ”Pity,” the man says. ”I truly expected more of Qiren.” He huffs, disgusted. ”Condoning a mate with that bloodline and accepting a Wen-dog to the main family. Oh, how low the standards have fallen.” 

He sighs and pours again, and a moment later, lets out a small, satisfied breath. Tea, Wei Wuxian thinks. He’s drinking tea. 

”You know, for a long time, I thought Renshu was a bit too radical with his thoughts,” the man says, and shit, he must know Wei Wuxian is awake. ”The Lan rules are a sufficient guideline for our sect. After all, the core rules were laid down by Lan An himself, and each Sect Leader has added to them when needed. They are our beacon in the dark, the lantern in the night, the light we follow to stay on the proper path. That’s what we’ve been told for hundreds of years. 

”Renshu believed we needed more to guide us. He said we should monitor our cultivators more, to make sure the proper bloodlines continued, to prune out the ones that lacked conviction and the right mentality. I told him he should not be too harsh on the youth and that the young ones would learn with time.

”Turned out…Renshu was right.”

The man sighs and pours himself another cup of tea.

”Imagine the chaos when two unruly women, omegas, were granted access to the lecture! As if they could be trusted with the Lan knowledge? Renshu and I weren’t the only ones protesting but we were, sadly, overrun. Some of the Elders wanted progress, some didn’t want to have anything to do with it, as if we had the luxury of turning our backs to the everyday running of the sect. Sect Leaders are front pieces, they shouldn’t be allowed to wield any true power. The last two should be enough of a warning example.” 

The last sentence comes out as a derisive hiss but Wei Wuxian sort of blanks out because—"As if we had the luxury of turning our backs.”

His kidnapper is a Lan Elder?

”—and as a result, Renshu lost his life, and yet, Qingheng-jun decided to save the murderer’s life,” the Elder spits. ”I understand the need to have an heir and I understand that no one could’ve held out against the murderer’s deception and poisons but she should’ve been executed after the heir was born. It wouldn’t be the first time. But no, that didn’t happen.”

He slams his cup on a table, and the sound is so sudden that if Wei Wuxian wasn’t body-locked, he would’ve flinched. 

”That omega poisoned Qingheng-jun a second time, and the sect allowed yet another whelp of an inferior bloodline to be born, and where has that led us? Our Sect Leader is mated to a whore and our Sect Heir’s mate is a heretic.

”Gusu Lan is even in more dire need of a purge than I thought,” he says. ”But it is finally coming.”

Suddenly, the man walks right next to Wei Wuxian and yanks the bag off. For a moment, he’s disoriented and he blinks to clear his vision, only to see someone familiar crouching in front of him.

”And it starts with you,” Elder Deming growls.

19^th day of the 2^nd month [LXC bd Oct 8^th]

Well, it worked. I’m pregnant. I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or more trapped than I actually am but for now, I mostly feel sick. I don’t know why the aunties call this morning sickness when it lasts all day and night. I’m not sure what they’d say about my current situation… Then again, the food is pale and bland, there are no clashing colors in the Cloud Recesses, and since I’m isolated, there’s no one to gossip with. Which wouldn’t matter since we’re in the Cloud Recesses and gossiping is forbidden. 

Sadly, it doesn’t require much for me to lose my temper.

I’m not really sure why I’m writing this down

Oh, who am I trying to fool? Of course I know why I’m writing my thoughts down. This journal might be needed at some point and what better time to start than now? 

So.

If you are reading this, it is because of two possible reasons. 

One, you are someone who has the knowledge and skill of both Meishan Yu and Baoshan Sanren to open the wards protecting this journal and you need the information to save the world. Or, at least to save the Lan sect, if you deem it worth saving.

Two, you are someone who has somehow managed to force the wards open and you need my writing to make sure your sick plans aren’t thwarted. This will not benefit you for long because you won’t find your answers here and also, have fun dying. Did you really think that was all I had protecting my secrets?

In both scenarios I am dead. 

Who am I?

Well. 

My name is Xue Xiurong. Where I come from isn’t of any importance and my parents are dead. I’ve been a rogue cultivator for long enough to learn what I need to know and I know enough to understand what I don’t know. What matters is that I know there’s something very, very wrong in the Lan Sect and if things progress as they would like, the results could be catastrophic to the whole Cultivation world.

So, yes. 

I killed an Elder.

I drugged the young Sect Leader Lan to make him mate me, to allow myself more time to investigate the dark secrets this beacon of purity and righteousness is cradling in its midst.

And I regret nothing.

5^th day of the 3^rd month

I lied. I regret everything. I’m throwing up everything and ginger tea doesn’t help.

Thank the Heavens for my cultivation. At least I won’t die of starvation.

9^th day of the 4^th month

Today I stopped wearing my belt. I’ve felt the small bump for a couple of weeks already but I only now realized it’s actually visible. There is, of course, no one to see it as the Lan midwife only comes to check in on me once a month and it’ll be two weeks until his next visit. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything seems to be progressing normally and when I reach inside with my spiritual energy, I can feel my child’s heartbeat. 

They seem strong.

I miss my sisters so much. Ziyuan would snap and scold and fuss and Cangse would tell me stupid tales of her adventures to make me forget my predicament. We would sit around the small table and have tea and those small treats Ziyuan’s maids make and they would rub my shoulders (my sisters, not Ziyuan’s maids, Heavens help me), and later, we would take a nap in the same bed like we used to do when we were younger.

But Cangse has been expelled and Ziyuan is home with her firstborn and…

I wish I could even write to them but I can’t since I’m not allowed to send or receive letters. They monitor all spiritual activity around the cabin and if I tried to send out a message talisman, it would be caught. Unless I could—

Hmm…

10^th day of the 4^th month

HA!

I still can’t receive anything but at least I can send short messages. I know it’s incredibly risky and would probably be fatal if the bird was caught before it crossed the wards of the Cloud Recesses, but I’m confident that’s not going to happen. I highly doubt anyone here is familiar with the Meishan techniques. 

So, at least I can inform Ziyuan. There’s no point trying to contact Cangse as I have absolutely no idea where she is and sending two birds would be too taxing for me. 

I have to say this eases my mind. Now I have a way to warn them. 

Next, I need to figure out a way to continue my investigations.

30^th day of the 4^th month

I’ve spent the better part of the morning with my hand on my stomach. I woke up feeling like butterflies fluttering their wings inside me and it took me a moment to realize I was feeling my child move.

Strange to think I have a full set of tiny fingers and toes inside me. I don’t know why that itself is what feels strange—shouldn’t the whole concept of growing new life feel strange and marvelous?

I wish my sisters were here to share this moment but since they can’t, I’m trying to do something of use. I’ve managed to outline the general timeline of the events so far but I really need to find some way to get out of this cabin. 

7^th day of the 6^th month

Note to self: pregnancy does not, in fact, make you limber, and neither does it enhance your speed. Stupid.

13^th day of the 8^th month

It seems highly unviable to have this much energy when the body is the size of a mountain. I’ve cleaned the house from the floor to the roof but since it’s ascetic to begin with, it didn’t really give me much satisfaction. In addition to that, I’ve started compiling my notes on everything that’s been happening here and about the events that led to the disposal of the despicable Elder. Having several journals does seem unwise so I merely turned this journal around and started filling it from the back. Saves me the effort of building a second set of complex spells and curses to keep it safe.

The midwife said my pregnancy is progressing as it should and everything should go smoothly when the child arrives. I’m finding myself slightly suspicious of this. It’s not that I expect them to dispose of me as soon as the baby is born but… 

9^th day of the 10^th month [LXC 1 day]

I’m now a mother. 

I am a mother who isn’t allowed to hold her child. I am a mother whose chest aches and whose whole body is bruised with the work it did to push that new life into the world and I am not allowed to hold my child.

The midwife told me it was a boy and an alpha. It means I’ve now fulfilled my duty as the Lan-furen and…I don’t know what it means. Am I disposable? Are they going to kill me now? I’m still secluded and will remain as such for the foreseeable future; locked away, silenced, forgotten.

Will they allow me to see my child?

My heart hurts.

7^th day of the 8^th month [LXC 10mo]

Qiren visited me today. I’m not exactly sure why since he’s made his disdain very clear since the moment Cangse and I walked through the gates. He despises me, perhaps even hates me for things I did to his brother. I don’t blame him. If someone did this to my sisters, I would be livid.

So far, it’s been a nurse who has brought A-Huan to me once a month to allow me to see how my child grows. She is a Lan, a strict, unsmiling beta with a no-nonsense attitude and a low opinion of me. I haven’t let it bother me—I pick up my child and she turns and goes to wait outside.

One hour once a month. That’s what I’m allowed. It’s not even nearly enough but it’s what I’m granted and I will cherish it. I sing to him, tell stories to him, caress his soft cheek, and kiss his forehead. A-Huan has always been an amicable child, calm and interested in everything he sees around him. As soon as he learned to smile, he’s been smiling with his whole self and it makes my days so, so much brighter. Or that’s what he does with me, at least. I don’t know how he behaves with his caretakers on a daily basis.

It was strange to see him in Qiren’s arms, snugly held against his chest, A-Huan’s small fist holding tightly on the lapel of his rob. I expected him to scold the baby but he didn’t. I don’t know why.

Perhaps he cares about A-Huan?

8^th day of the 10^th month [LXC 12mo]

A-Huan turned one today. I have to admit I was surprised to see him—I fully expected Qiren to keep him from me but he didn’t. He brought A-Huan and granted me an extra hour this month. I don’t know why. I would like to believe he did this for the goodness of his heart but his heart is a hard, cold thing and I doubt anything as soft as A-Huan could sway him.

Or perhaps I’m uncharitable.

I know Qiren resents having me here just as much as I do. But we’re both stuck where we are and bound by our roles, and there’s nothing we can really do about it. 

(I wonder if he’s ever questioned the rules he molds his life around.)

19^th day of the 7^th month [LXC19mo, LWJ bd Jan 23^rd]

I must be insane to willingly go through this again but perhaps that is what being a mother means. I don’t want my A-Huan to be alone in this world—in this sect. I couldn’t leave him to face it all by himself. I just couldn’t. At least this time, I didn’t need to bother with the cave—and frankly, that’s probably for the best. The wards sing when they’re replenished and I’m quite sure that if I did it again, they would force me to lose the baby, sect heir or not.

Also, it was so much easier to reach out to my alpha and compel him to visit me in my seclusion than try to make my way through the Cloud Recesses and into the cave. I would’ve appreciated the chance to do this all by myself but since the alpha is actually needed for the conception, it left me little to no options. 

Turns out that seducing one’s mate is easier when there’s a mating bond. Zemin was attracted to me the moment he saw me, and while he’s accumulated considerable resentment toward me, the attraction is still there. All it took to infuse a flower with my heat scent and then send it to him—concealed, of course—and wait.

I wonder when the sect realizes what I’ve done.

24^nd day of the 8^th month [LXC 2y]

So, Qiren definitely isn’t thrilled about the second child. Apparently, my second pregnancy is an even bigger secret than the first because he had no knowledge of it. He brought A-Huan and nearly turned purple when I opened the door, calling me an abomination and a traitor to the Lan principles which, considering everything I know about the sect, is pretty thick-faced of him.

The altercation made me first angry and then resigned which in turn made A-Huan sad. He doesn’t like it if I’m sad. So I smiled and we painted (you can see his interpretation of the cloud motif on the next page) and it hurt so much when he was taken away.

Am I selfish for doing this again? Does it make me a bad person to wish A-Huan didn’t have to be alone?

If you ask Qiren, it does.

23^rd day of the 1^st month [LXC 2y2mo]

My second son was born today.

I wish

No. It doesn’t matter.

16^th day of the 3^rd month [LXC 2y4mo, LWJ 2mo]

A-Zhan stared at me, unblinking, for the whole time my boys visited. His eyes are so beautiful and his expression is way too serious for a baby.

Is this my fault?

22^nd day of the 1^st month [LXC 5y4mo, LWJ 3yo]

A-Zhan learned to write his name today! Look at that! I told him what a smart and talented boy he is and he went all silent—apparently, he doesn’t like when I tease him. He really is so cute when he’s scowling!

30^th day of the 5^th month [LXC 5y8mo, LWJ 3y4mo]

Qiren told me that both Cangse and Changze are dead, leaving behind a son who’s the same age as A-Zhan.

Why would he tell me this? Does he really hate me that much?

I need to write to Ziyuan.

15^th day of the 6^th month [LXC 8y9mo, LWJ 5y5mo]

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. I got caught last night. 

I guess this is it.

Why does it feel like I’ve been robbed of time when I’ve always known my time has been limited from the very beginning?

2^nd day of the 11^th month [LXC 8y1mo, LWJ 5y10mo]

It is as I thought. I’m being poisoned.

Would I have done this all had I known my children would be taken from me?

25^th of the 1^st month [LXC 8y3mo, LWJ 6yo]

Today was the last time I saw my children. I already know that. I’m coughing up blood almost constantly and I can barely see the page from the black dots that keep dancing in front of my eyes. The characters on the page swim in and out of focus so I apologize for the mess I’m making in advance.

To summarize:

The Lan Elders are planning on a purge in the Lan Sect, and it’s possible they have connections to other sects as well.

There is a very high chance that they have in their possession poisons that can induce heat and rut and sterilize the cultivators they see as unfit to procreate. I have a reason to suspect they are also researching ways to null an alpha, force an almost instantaneous qi-deviation, and even change gender designation. These poisons can be liquid, pills, or powder.

Lan Renshu, the Elder I killed, was one of the driving forces of the purge faction. In the letter I wrote to A-Huan and A-Zhan (and which I fervently hope Qiren will let them read when they are older) I stated that he raped me and left me to bleed to death. That is true. However, I didn’t clarify the events that led to it. He caught me sneaking into the Forbidden Section of the library and saw the books I researched, and he attacked the moment I left the building. He used a drug that robbed me the control of my body and left me to die after he was done. Had he made me swallow it, I would’ve stayed locked inside my own body and mind, unable to interact with the outside world or even access my golden core. Instead, he only pressed a cloth on my face, forcing me to inhale through a fabric sprinkled with poison. I realized that leaving him alive was too big a risk so I had to act.

I’m quite sure he didn’t expect me to react like that. He probably didn’t expect me to even regain my senses and control of my body but I did. I made sure my face was the last thing he saw on this earth. I searched his rooms for all material on their schemes I could find and committed it to memory. I wanted to burn it all but I didn’t dare, in case his collaborators were familiar with his notes and would see they were gone. That would jeopardize all the hard work my sisters and I have done in the past years. Instead, I merely sabotaged them—changed some of the talismans here, omitted some diagrams there…little things. I don’t know how much difference it makes but I hope it has been enough.

To be completely honest, I’m surprised by the fact that I’ve been alive for as long as I have. I would’ve thought the Elders would’ve wanted to get rid of me right after A-Zhan’s birth. A-Huan has been asking rather pointed questions and I know he’s aware that something isn’t right. Perhaps that’s the reason why I’m being finally disposed of. Death is, after all, a convenient way to keep my children from asking too many questions. 

To the one reading this journal and this entry: The full compilation of all my speculations and notes is in the back of this journal. I hope they’ll be useful. I hope you’ll be able to do what I failed to do. I hope the world will be better for it.

 

This I swear to be true on the little honor I have left and on the whole history of the Order, on the line of omegas that stand vigil behind me and on those who are yet to emerge.

My time has come.

Goodbye.

Xue Xiurong, Lan-furen, sworn sister of Yu Ziyuan and Cangse Sanren, mother of A-Huan and A-Zhan

Of course, Wei Wuxian thinks bitterly. Of course it had to be one of the few Elders who seemed like decent people. What a thick face he has, congratulating Lan Zhan and me while believing…this.

”What? No smart words or biting logic to claim your innocence?” Elder Deming’s voice is mocking through false sincerity. ”Then again, not even you have managed to find a way around that spell. Thank the Heavens for small mercies.”

He sits back down and pours himself another cup of tea. Now that the bag is off Wei Wuxian’s head, he can smell the tea. It’s bitter and sharp and it makes him want to sneeze.

”Ah, yes,” Elder Deming says, sounding bored. ”I assume this would smell odd to you. Just so you know, there’s no point in trying to use your foul methods on me. Your abilities have been blocked and I’ve taken precautions against your questionable skillset.” He raises his cup like a toast and downs the tea in one go, grimacing slightly at the taste.

”Did it ever occur to you that even though our rules forbid lying, it doesn’t make us idiots who cannot see when someone is lying?” Elder Deming asks conversationally. ”For example, if someone feigns a leg injury, it’s rather suspicious if that same person later walks without difficulty. Now, I’m not saying injuries couldn’t get better in a relatively short time under the right conditions but for someone like you? No. For the next time, I suggest you keep better track of the lies you tell.” He pauses and tilts his head, opening his eyes wide in mock surprise. ”Oh, but you aren’t going to have the chance to tell more lies! How silly of me!”

If Wei Wuxian could, he’d grit his teeth. But as he can’t he settles for glaring at the Elder.

Elder Deming shrugs. ”Then again, I could just as well unmute you. It’s not like you’ll ever have the chance to talk after I’m done with you.” He does an elaborate motion with his hand (something Wei Wuxian has definitely never seen anyone else do when lifting the spell), and suddenly, Wei Wuxian’s jaw isn’t locked anymore. 

He opens and closes his jaw a couple of times before saying, ”So, you’re just going to kill me?”

Elder Deming scoffs. ”Of course not, I’m not a monster!”

”But if you’re not going to kill me, how are you going to keep me silent? Even if you slapped a permanent muting spell on me, I’d still have my hands.”

”Are you sure of that?” Elder Deming says, sounding amused. ”I have to admit that your heretical cultivation is right on one thing,” he says, inclining his head. ”Proper cultivation is rather limited. Now, I’m not saying that the ghostly path is the answer because obviously it can never be a viable long-term solution but it does point out the glaringly obvious deficiency: the instruments we can use to affect the real world are temporary. Talismans, spells, spiritual energy…the result aren’t permanent. If we want to change something for good—or, well, sometimes for worse—we need other tools. Curses can be permanent, if not broken in time. Poisons and elixirs can inflict irreversible erasure and change.” A small smile plays on his lips. ”And when administered correctly, the change carries to the future generations.”

”And you claim you’re not a monster,” Wei Wuxian says softly.

”Tell me, Wei Wuxian, how does one define a monster?” Elder Deming asks sharply. ”If a cat births a litter where three kittens are blind, is the mother a monster if she abandons the blind kittens? Or if a horse injures its leg so badly it cannot heal properly and thus is never able to walk properly again, is the owner a monster if he kills the horse? If a dog goes rabid, isn’t it a mercy to kill it?” He leans forward slightly and softens his voice. ”If a child is born of incest, are the Elders monsters if they want to put the abomination down?”

”We are not animals!”

”Aren’t we? Haven’t you seen what we’ve done to each other? Haven’t you witnessed the cruelty of humans countless times?”

Wei Wuxian wants to growl with frustration. He wishes Meng Yao was here—he’d be able to twist Elder Deming’s words right back at him and run rings around him without a problem while Wei Wuxian is having a hard time coping with the panic swelling in his mind and the pain coursing through his body.

Elder Deming sighs and shakes his head. ”You young people, always so hot-headed and stubborn, burning with the bright flame of untempered anger. The world is broken, Wei Wuxian, and it needs to be fixed.”

”By exterminating the ones who don’t meet your standards?”

”First of all, what’s wrong with the Gusu Lan standards? There is a reason we’ve been at the pinnacle of the cultivation world for so long. We’ve earned this place with determination and ceaseless work and I’ll be damned before I let people like you destroy everything,” Elder Deming huffs. ”And second, why are you so eager to use words like ’kill’ and ’exterminate’? That isn’t what this is all about.

”I’ve always considered my sect as a garden. To grow, it needs fertile soil and strong roots, a proper amount of sunlight, and rain. But to grow strong, it needs to be maintained. If left to grow as it pleases, it will bloom without order, either too wildly or too weakly. It needs to be tended to and, when needed, pruned.

”Now, of course, people aren’t plants and one cannot treat them as plants, obviously,” Elder Deming says as he stands up and starts to pace. ”Instead of planting the strongest seeds in meticulous rows, we have the Wall of Rules guiding our disciples.” He pauses and sneers. ”Or we had until your corruption made Wangji destroy most of it.”

Wei Wuxian is silently very proud of Lan Zhan.

”Instead of picking out weeds, we make sure they never get to the ground, so to speak. Instead of getting rid of  unwanted growth, we discourage it from the start. Instead of providing extensive coverage and poles for the weaklings, we select the most promising and tenacious saplings. Over time, the garden will flourish, orderly, proper, perfect.”

”Yeah, except that it doesn’t seem like a sustainable solution,” Wei Wuxian can’t help pointing out. ”Without variation, the stock will grow weak anyway. With too small a gene pool, the problems accumulate. Haven’t you ever heard of crop rotation?”

Elder Deming gives him a withering look. ”Of course you wouldn’t understand,” he says. ”With your background, how could you?”

”And what’s that supposed to mean?”

”Because it will take time,” Elder Deming says slowly and rolls his eyes. ”It’s not like we can just render a whole age group of alphas null and a generation of omegas barren, can we? Projects like these are delicate and changing the course of the whole sect needs careful planning and precise execution.”

”And if you die?” Wei Wuxian says through a clenched jaw.

That makes Elder Deming laugh, long and boisterously. ”Oh, child,” he says, wiping his eyes. ”Did you honestly think I am the only one working on this?” He smiles, a benevolent, gentle smile as he kneels down next to Wei Wuxian and brushes a lock of hair behind his ear. ”Running a sect is busy, busy work and there are so many people who are so very important. Cooks, healers, teachers, washers…do you ever pay attention to just how many people handle your food or your laundry?” He cocks his head and his smile grows wider. ”Of course you don’t.”

With a sudden move, he tangles his hand in Wei Wuxian’s hair and yanks his head back. Wei Wuxian can’t suppress a pained gasp, and Elder Deming uses the chance to shove a pill into his mouth. It’s round and cold and fills his mouth with strange, oily bitterness. He tries to shake his head to get free, to spit it out, but the Elder’s palm over his mouth is unyielding, gripping him so hard it’s bound to leave bruises on his cheeks. 

And before he fully realizes what happened, Elder Deming leans back with a satisfied look.

”You can either swallow it or let it melt in your mouth,” he says calmly. ”Or you can choke, but that’ll be your choice, not mine. Either way, that potion will make its way into your system and you will bother no one no more.” He casts a critical glance at Wei Wuxian’s body and then his eyes are back to his. ”Oh, don’t give me that look,” he says in a condescending tone. ”Of course you’re not going to die, that would unleash Wangji on a path of revenge. It’s far more effective to bind him next to your bed for foreseeable—”

There’s a sharp knock on the door and a moment later, Lan Qiren’s voice. ”Lan Deming, open up. We know you’re there and we know you have Wei Wuxian.” He sounds furious.

Elder Deming rears back, shock and confusion visible on his face. ”What—how did they—” He scrambles up and then bends down to yank the bag over Wei Wuxian’s head again. ”Not that it matters in a moment,” he mutters, hurrying around the room, doing something Wei Wuxian can no longer see.

And it’s not just—

Something is wrong.

The pain is ever-present, it hasn’t changed, and since his jaw is once more locked with the Lan muting spell, Wei Wuxian can’t call out. The pill has been slowly melting in his mouth and Wei Wuxian tries to keep from swallowing because if he’s found in time, if they undo the spell, they might figure out what the pill was and how to undo its effects. He doesn’t know who ’they’ are but he hopes…he hopes it’s someone who wishes him no further harm.

But something is wrong. 

The bitter-cold feeling is seeping through his soft palate and down his cheeks and something about it reminds him of the oily-wrong sense of resentful energy that stuck to his meridians but it’s not that—it cannot be that because his core is sealed and he has no access to resentful energy and—

He panics then, perhaps, a bit, and lets out a thready whine through his nose although he knows he shouldn’t because that might push the pill residue up and possibly choke him but does it really matter because he’s having a hard time breathing and he can’t see he can’t hear properly he can’t—

Sounds, somewhere, above, behind—no, down, except that it shouldn’t be possible, there’s nothing underneath this room, or is there, he doesn’t know, he didn’t know, he—

No movement, he’s locked, he’s tied up, he can’t move, he can’t, he—

Cold - bitter - oily - wrong - wrong-wrong-wro—

He drifts.

Or perhaps he dreams?

Perhaps he drifts and dreams?

How does one differentiate it anyway? 

Is he dead? Would he know if he was dead? 

Define death.

”When Doctor Wen deems you fit for transport, I think you should come to the Cloud Recesses.”

”Really? Why?”

”Well, let’s start with the fact that you’d have your own space.”

”But I have it on Lotus Pier, too—unless they gave away my room… Why are you looking at me like that?”

”Wei-xiong, your old room is right next to your brother’s room.”

”Yes, and…? What?”

”Is Wangji going to be comfortable nursing you back to health right next to Jiang Wanyin?”

”…oh, right. Yeah. That would be awkward.”

”Yes, I imagine so. Also, there’s another reason than just your privacy.”

”Have pity on me, A-Yao, my head’s hurting and I can’t think—”

”That pout might work with Wangji but not with me. Nevertheless. There is an item left behind by a sect member since then departed. Your assistance would be most helpful in deciphering said item. Of course, that would mean that you follow doctor Wen’s instructions and focus your energy on getting better.”

”Oh, a mystery? Is it cursed? Wait, why would the Lan keep a cursed object? Ah, never mind.”

”Wei-xiong, sit back down. You’re in no condition to jump around and I have absolutely no interest in being skewered by your protective alpha.”

”Pshh, Lan Zhan would never—”

”Please, your illustrious Hanguang-jun absolutely would.”

”Now, have you been stretching—”

A flash of light, there—and then gone again.

He drifts.

”Wei Ying! No! Not again!”

”Wangji, don’t, you’ll die too!”

”For fuck’s sake, let me go you idiots, I’m trying to save his life!”

”Wei Ying, please, don’t—”

”Growling? Really, Hanguang-jun?”

”Wangji—”

”He’s going feral, A-Huan. Move aside, please, Huaisang and I will handle this—”

”Don’t you dare die on me—”

”What the fuck is wrong with him? WEI WUXIAN!”

Suddenly, pressure.

Is it him?

No.

Not him.

But on him.

Right hand, moved, turned, held.

Under the palm, on top of the back of his hand.

Something soft, tender, familiar. 

”—Ying?”

And…scents?

This is new.

”—my fault.”

”You didn’t do this, Uncle.”

”But my actions allowed it.”

A pause.

”He will never forgive me.”

”Who? Wangji or Wuxian?”

”Either.”

A sigh.

”You should talk to him. According to Doctor Wen, coma patients can hear and feel even if they cannot reciprocate.”

”But he isn’t in a coma.”

Another pause.

”No, he isn’t.”

”Where’s Wangji?”

”In the cold springs, meditating. A-Yao went with him.”

”Is it safe for him?”

”Oh, A-Yao doesn’t like cold, especially now. He’ll sit on the shore, all bundled up.”

”Ah. Good.” A cough. ”I hope he’s feeling alright.”

”He is.”

A pause.

”How long until Young Master Nie arrives?”

A cloth rustles, then a long sigh. ”I’m not sure. Apparently, Sect Leader Jiang is flying him.”

”Sect Leader Jiang? Are they—”

A snort. ”No. That’s Mingjue.”

”I— Well. That’s—”

”That’s their own business. Isn’t it, Uncle?”

”…Yes, of course.”

Little by little, his senses return. Sound is the first, then pressure, and then smell. He can see flashes of bright light when someone lifts his eyelids to check his pupils and when he’s carefully, gently fed thin, medicinal soup, he can detect the bitterness of the herbs. He feels the continuous, delicate flow of spiritual energy constantly fed into his meridians but he can’t control anything. He can’t turn off his sense of smell or affect his own scent. He can’t open his eyes or reach out to anyone.

He still can’t access his core or reach out to Zhiqiang.

Wei Wuxian is like a living, breathing doll, dependent on others and it’s terrifying. If he were somewhere else than in the Cloud Recesses and with Lan Zhan, he’d probably go out of his mind.

He’s still going out of his mind, a little, so he tries to push down his panic and just floats.

Barring the night when he’s with only Lan Zhan, there are always at least two people in the room at the same time. Lan Zhan is there at all times (unless someone, usually A-Yao, forces him to the cold springs for a brief respite), and he’s either accompanied by Wen Qing, Xiao Xingchen, or, to his utter bewilderment, Lan Qiren. A-Yao stays away but Xichen visits almost daily, and A-Yuan spends the time between his lessons and dinner babbling about his day and the new things he’s learned.

Outside the Jingshi, life seems to go on as usual. 

Inside the Jingshi, time stands still as they all wait for Wei Wuxian to open his eyes.

”Again.”

”Yu-furen, I can’t—”

”I don’t believe you. Again.”

”I said—”

”And I said that I don’t believe you. Again.”

”I can’t—”

”Again.”

”I. CAN’T!”

”I. DON’T. BELIEVE. YOU.”

”I. CAN’T!!”

”…”

”Madam?”

”…”

”Thank you, Yinzhu, I’m fine.”

”Madam, your nose is bleeding.”

”Well. How about that.”

”Fuck. I’m sorry—”

”Never apologize for what you are able to do, Wei Wuxian. Never. This is a terrible gift to carry and the things you are able to do…they will be beyond imagination. Be careful, be responsible, but never apologize. Do you understand me?”

”Yes, Yu-furen. I understand.”

”See that you do. We’re done for today.”

”Yes, Yu-furen.”

”And Wei Wuxian?”

”Yes?”

”You did well.” 

”Wangji—”

Silence, then a sigh.

”I know there’s nothing I can do to change the past, no matter how much I would like to. I have contemplated on my behavior and my motives and in hindsight, I find myself lacking.”

”Uncle—”

”Please, let me explain. What I did back then was spurred by fear, bitterness, and lack of proper information, as you are well aware by now. It doesn’t justify my actions but I hope it explains them. Had I known what I know now, I still would’ve reprimanded Wei Wuxian for his behavior because flaunting one’s scent as he did is against the rules—and yes, I know the rules are faulty but many of them still apply. The core of the rules is still valid. So, yes, I would’ve reprimanded him but I wouldn’t have expelled him. That terrible mistake is on me and on me alone.”

Silence.

”Since then…I’ve come to see how many things are wrong in our sect. Gusu Lan is my life and my blood and it has been painful to realize how we have been blinded. How I have been blinded. By pride, by rules, by conformity. And that isn’t something I’m proud of.”

Silence again, accompanied by the cool trickle of spiritual energy through unresponsive pathways.

”I don’t know how to make you smile, Wangji. I never have. And there was a time when I believed it wasn’t necessary. And then… If there’s something I’m forever grateful to and for Wei Wuxian—your mate—it’s the fact that he’s allowed me that. The chance—the privilege to see your smile. I know they’re not mine to cherish but it comforts me that you have them. You, Wuxian, and little A-Yuan have them.

”Due to my own actions, I will forever be an outsider to you and that pain is for me to bear. And yet, it makes me content, the knowledge that your family has that warmth.”

Silence.

Someone knocks gently on the door and a moment later, the door slides open.

”Grand Master Lan, Wangji.”

”Doctor Wen.” 

”Jiang Wanyin just arrived with Nie Huaisang. They’ll be here shortly.”

”Thank you, Doctor Wen. I’ll get out of the way.” 

A short pause, then gentle pressure on the shoulder.

”Thank you, Wangji.”

”Mn.”

He feels Nie Huaisang the moment he steps into the Jingshi. His presence—when out in the open—has always been something like the sun compared to Wei Wuxian’s thunderstorm: bright to the point of blinding and able to scorch the earth if needed. 

Now, all he has to do is wait.

Wei Wuxian hates waiting.

And then—

Wei-xiong? Can you hear me?

Yes! Yes!! Huaisang? 

Oh, dear. What have you done to yourself this time, Wei-xiong?

Me? What—I didn’t do anything! This was done to me!

Mm-hmm.

Don’t you hum that to me. We’re in my mind, you have no fan here to hide behind.

Sadly, true.

The relief that washes over him is so strong that for a moment, he feels like drowning. Or choking. He wishes he could hug Huaisang or even hold his hand but his body is still ignoring his commands and it’s beyond frustrating. 

You have no idea how happy I am to have you in my head, he thinks empathetically.

Huaisang’s amusement is a warm, bubbly thing. Oh, I have some idea.

At the same time, he hears an alarmed, ”Wei Ying? What’s wrong? Huaisang, is he in pain? Can he hear you? Wei Ying!”

What? What’s wrong? Why Lan Zhan is freaking out?

You’re crying, Wei-xiong.

What? No, I—wait. I want to see him. Tell him to lean over and look into my eyes. I just need you to hold my eyelids for a moment.

Lan Zhan is, understandably, a bit bewildered but follows Huaisang’s instructions. A moment later, gentle fingers move his lids and all he sees is blurry brightness.

Fuck, that’s so bright—oh, thanks—Lan Zhan!

His alpha dries his tears with his sleeve and then looks down into his eyes. Objectively speaking, he looks terrible: his eyes are bruised and red from the lack of sleep and his cheeks are hollow like he’s been losing more than just sleep, and his gorgeous hair is haphazardly tied up. To Wei Wuxian, he’s the most beautiful sight.

Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, how dare you appear in front of my eyes with your hair only partially done! The illustrious Hanguang-jun has lost at least a third of his magnificence!

He honestly didn’t mean Huaisang to repeat his words to Lan Zhan but he does, and then Lan Zhan’s face twists and he almost collapses on top of him, presses his forehead against Wei Wuxian’s, and starts to cry.

Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, what’s wrong? Huaisang! What’s happening—

Hush, Wei-xiong. Can’t you smell him? 

And, oh.

Oh.

Lan Zhan is silently weeping as he presses wet kisses all over Wei Wuxian’s face (he’s grateful Huaisang let his eyelids go and moved away from the bed to give them a small modicum of privacy) and chants his name in a broken voice and…his scent. Distraught as he is, Lan Zhan’s iron control of his scent falters and it pours out only dampened by his forehead ribbon; a thick cloud of grief mixed with heartbreak, longing, and anguish.

He loses the sense of time as Lan Zhan’s feverish kisses and whispers slowly calm down and his scent mellows into determination steeled by sadness. When Lan Zhan finally draws back with a last tender touch to his cheek, he reaches out to Huaisang again.

He’s going to be so embarrassed later, you know.

Hm. It’s just us three and he knows he can’t hide anything from me.

Oh. Well, thank you for that. You know, tell him that I miss sleeping in his arms.

Huaisang does, and Lan Zhan replies with, ”Mn. From now on, you will sleep in my arms every night.”

Lan Zhan! My poor heart! You can’t just say things like that!

I’m not going to act as a messenger for your dirty love notes.

Wei Wuxian concentrates hard on an image of him showing Huaisang his tongue.

Charming. Now. We have work to do. Do you want to start or do you want me to tell you what we know so far?

Hm. Perhaps I should go first.

He starts with the strange bonding ritual he had with his core and how it led to his and Lan Zhan’s unconventional mating and how it basically forced the elders to recognize their union—

(Oh. I was wondering what had made the wards so strong. I probably should’ve guessed it had something to do with you.)

—And then continues to the arrival of Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, and A-Qing, and the confirmation of traitors within the clan. As he explains the process of getting Madam Lan’s journal open, Huaisang’s focus feels like glass shards in Wei Wuxian’s mind, pressing closer as if willing to dissect his thoughts into thin slices. He lets out a mental hiss and Huaisang retreats slightly, apologetic.

A-Yao has the journal now. I left it with him the night I was jumped.

He met me at the gate and walked me here. The journal will stay with him while Xiao Xingchen and I work to get you to wake up.

Speaking of—where is A-Yao anyway?

Huaisang’s mental voice sounds dry. He’s running the sect and having the time of his life. 

I hope he’s not overdoing it…he needs to take care of himself and the little one.

He’s perfectly capable of managing Gusu Lan from his sickbed if need be. Don’t worry. He isn’t here because he actually IS being cautious, but he’s investigating.

Investigating what?

The corruption within Gusu Lan.

Oh. 

For a moment, they fall silent in Wei Wuxian’s mind and then Huaisang nudges him slightly. 

Ah, sorry. Where were we?

You skipped a lot of the talk with Xiao Xingchen but that’s understandable. I’ll talk to him later. Also, I agree with you on A-Qing. He and Wanyin would work well together.

I know, right? She’s a tough little girl and will grow into an absolute terror. 

Is that something to be proud of?

Are you kidding me? She’ll be a perfect Jiang sect heir! 

Huaisang’s laughter feels like bubbles, tickling his head from the inside. It feels profoundly weird but also deeply reassuring. Huaisang wouldn’t laugh if things were desperate, would he?

Oh, I absolutely would.

Piss off.

Later. Was there something else? A-Yao mentioned something about a test?

Yeah… after his heat, I told him in writing that we’d managed to open the journal and we decided to keep it a secret. His office is lined with the standard privacy talismans so whoever wanted to spy on us would need something to force themselves through and be close enough to do that. We thought it was Old Man Qiren. Turned out, it wasn’t.

Huaisang’s hum reverberates through his mind like the wind through a forest.

I believe this is where I step in, Wei-xiong—

”Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan? What is it?

”It is time for your broth.”

But it tastes terrible!

Lan Zhan hums. ”I know you don’t like the taste but it is relevant to your recuperation.”

He can’t even hear you and you’re having a conversation?

My Lan Zhan is just amazing like that, Wei Wuxian sighs dreamily. 

Lan Zhan moves his unresponsive body gently so that Wei Wuxian is leaning against his chest and start to feed him the broth. It’s lukewarm and made with the bitterest herbs found in Yunmeng and Gusu and it is absolutely vile. But he’s in his alpha’s arms and Lan Zhan’s soft murmuring praises make him feel safe and warm. Worth the taste, surely.

As he’s slowly spoon-fed thin liquid that tastes like something you can squeeze from your socks after a long day of fighting, Huaisang relays to him the events that have been going on since Wei Wuxian lost control of his body.

About a week ago, Huaisang got an urgent message from Meng Yao, telling him in their most obscure code that Gusu was compromised and that Wei Wuxian had been attacked. Luckily, Jiang Cheng had been visiting (He really is formidable when he’s worried or pissed off, you know? I’m so happy for da-ge. — I don’t want to know, really, I mean it.), and they headed out immediately. Even with Jiang Cheng’s strength, flying two grown men from Qinghe to Gusu took him a couple of days. Huaisang sent out a messenger talisman from their last leg of the journey to alert Meng Yao, and when they landed right in front of the Cloud Recesses’ gates, Meng Yao was waiting for them. With A-Qing.

A-Qing? Really?

Mn. She’s already showing some veritable Jiang traits. I have no clue how but she was able to locate you. 

Really? Interesting…

I told her to brace herself for the moment you wake up because you’re going to be all over her to learn how she did it.

Aw, Huaisang, it’s almost as if you know me!

He wants to cackle at the feeling Huaisang projects but settles with sending obnoxious mental kiss faces at him instead.

Apparently, A-Qing had woken up after Wei Wuxian had gone missing—although she’s yet to clarify whether she woke up because of the general panic or because she felt something was off. She’d wandered around for some while before making her way to Meng Yao who alerted Xichen and Lan Qiren, and who had then alerted Wangji before she led them more or less straight to Wei Wuxian.

Before you ask: no, I don’t exactly know how. I assume she had a long talk about it with Xichen-ge and Lan Qiren but they agreed that to understand it better, we’d need to get you awake. Which is why I’m here. 

The puzzle of just how A-Qing had tracked his location tickles the back of his mind, calling out to him. He itches to sink into it but knows it would have to wait.

I’d appreciate it, Huaisang says.

I know you’ve probably gathered bits and pieces of your condition but to summarize: your spiritual pathways, your core, and your access to resentful energy have all been cut off. People would probably call you a mundane but in reality, you’re even less. Common people can activate ready-made talismans and use simple spells but you have been rendered completely, utterly null. 

The pill!

Yes, that’s exactly what we believe it was meant to do. You were barely responsive when they reached you and for a moment, they thought you’d die.

Hm. He said he wouldn’t let it happen. Apparently, the alive-me keeps Hanguang-jun in check while the dead-me would basically unleash a feral Lan Zhan on the populace. And I’d like to say it’s a weak joke, ha ha ha, but—

It’s not. That’s exactly what would happen if you died.

They fall silent for a moment as Lan Zhan puts the bowl away and gently wipes Wei Wuxian’s face. This alpha, seriously…

”Wei Ying, would you like me to play to you or hold you?”

Wei Wuxian mock-gasps even though the effect is lost in telepathic communication. ”So shameless!”

”He calls you shameless, Wangji,” Huaisang says, amused. 

”Mn,” Lan Zhan hums. ”Holding it is.” He settles behind Wei Wuxian and carefully gathers him in his arms. Even though he can’t yet feel more than the pressure of someone holding his hand or gripping his shoulder, it makes him feel so much more loved and safe.

You really do deserve each other, Huaisang sighs.

Could you ask him to do something? Not now, but after you leave?

I’m not going to be a part of any sexual negotiations, Wei Wuxian.

What—that’s not what I meant! Also, eww! No, I meant… when you leave, could you ask Lan Zhan to pull me closer? So that I’m on his chest. It would… Listening to his heartbeat would help me sleep.

Of course.

And… Could you tell him that hearing his voice helps? I know how much he dislikes what he thinks are unnecessary words but they really aren’t unnecessary, not this time. I can read his face and his posture but I can’t do it now and—I think it would help. Really help. A lot.

Oh, stop it, Huaisang chides him gently. I’ll let him know. Don’t worry.  He feels a hand squeeze his for a moment. You aren’t alone in the dark anymore, Wei-xiong. 

It gets easier after Huaisang’s arrival because now he can let his family know he’s alright (or as alright as one can be while locked within one’s unresponsive body), he can communicate, and he can express himself. Sure, it’s by proxy and Huaisang isn’t always there but still. It’s progress.

And Lan Zhan…oh, Lan Zhan…

His alpha truly tries to step out of his comfort zone and Wei Wuxian loves him so much he feels like he’s bursting with it. Ever since he scraped Wei Wuxian’s blown-up pieces together and remade him, Lan Zhan has had a knack for sensing things about him that he himself doesn’t always realize. His pain levels, his exhaustion, his moods—and now, his circadian rhythm and what he needs to feel safe. It boggles his mind. Lan Zhan waits until he knows Wei Wuxian is awake and then he gathers his limp body in his arms and carries him to the bath where he gently rubs his unresponsive limbs with warm water and a soft washcloth, and washes his hair before combing it with hair oil that smells like sandalwood. Lan Zhan dries him in a fluffy towel that feels like clouds on his skin even though he isn’t supposed to feel it and then dresses him and carries him back to bed. He narrates everything in a low voice and unhurried words, tells Wei Wuxian he’s beautiful and loved and so, so missed.

It’s terrible because he can’t argue back.

He loves it.

Every day, somewhere between breakfast and lunch, Huaisang arrives and they keep working on Wei Wuxian’s locked-in state. As they talk, they travel Wei Wuxian’s meridians, usually with Huaisang and Xiao Xingchen’s spiritual energy interwoven in one, overly bright tendril and sometimes with Wen Qing’s needles to point the way. The memory of how resentful energy clung to him in a cold, wrong-slick feeling is actually helpful because he can show Huaisang the way he purged it from his core, which then spurs Xiao Xingchen and Wen Qing into throwing increasingly fantastical theories about what cultivation is as its basest form. If it wasn’t so much tied to Wei Wuxian’s life and well-being, he’d be absolutely fascinated.

It’s frustrating work. Frustrating, excruciating, and unbelievably boring. It feels like they’re doing absolutely nothing, even though he knows they are, and all he has to do is wait.

And then comes the day when Huaisang lets go with a small exclamation that makes everyone jump and Lan Zhan grip him so hard it actually hurts.

”I can see—”

”Xingchen-ge, you too?—”

WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?

The block around your core, Wei-xiong. It’s getting thinner.

Three weeks and two days after the attack, he stirs from his sleep as Lan Zhan presses a kiss on his forehead before he leaves the bed for his morning chores. For some while, Wei Wuxian just breathes, draws in the combined scents of them and home and safe.

He breathes in.

And out.

And he opens his eyes.

He’s been kneeling since the sunrise, back straight, his sword resting on his open palms. He doesn’t sway, he doesn’t tremble.

In front of him is a silent house and inside that silent house rests the person to whom Lan Bolin has devoted his life. 

That person is unresponsive, lost.

Lan Bolin failed.

He deserves this.

•••

Lan Bolin doesn’t remember a time when he existed for himself. It has always been for someone or something else; first his parents, then his sect. As an alpha, his loyalty and devotion belonged to his clan to use where he is most needed. Where he is of most use.

He knew not everyone is like he is. He knew his age mates went through puberty, got their hormonal storms that defined so much about their lives, and set their sights on potential mates, on a future shared with another. But not him.

For some while, his parents were worried for him. His secondary gender had been clear from birth but he didn’t get his rut, didn’t get that cascade of new, potent particles in his system that would make him even stronger, even better, whole, as some would’ve said. He knew there was nothing wrong with him but he respected his parents so he sat through the healers’ probing and prodding and waited patiently as they explained aloud what he already knew.

His loyalty and devotion belonged to his clan. He didn’t need a bulbous growth in his reproductive organ to prove it.

•••

And then, miraculously, inexplicably, Young Master Wei happened.

•••

The door slides open and the sound cuts through the silent air like a knife. He wants to flinch but he’s long conditioned his body to stay under his command and it stays still, posture perfect. His hands are steady as they hold his sword in front of him, his eyes are strained forward on the ground, and it takes some time for the white boots to reach his field of vision.

He’s honored that Hanguang-jun has lowered himself to come out to dismiss him personally. He deserves neither the honor nor the meeting but he’ll take what he can get.

It’s more than he expected.

The boots stop in front of him but he dares not raise his head.

•••

Gossiping was prohibited, of course, but people talked. 

Of the Twin Jades.

Of a bright young omega who got kicked out.

Of the icy silence and suppressed rage that reigned the Cloud Recesses.

Of Hanguang-jun’s soul-deep grief and the madness that followed.

Lan Bolin didn’t want to listen to the whispers. Not because he didn’t believe in them but because to him, they were irrelevant. People were complicated and rumors tended to convey only one side of the multi-faceted thing which was the human soul. So, he ducked his head and kept his silence.

Everything changed in Nightless City. 

His small elite group of Lan cultivators arrived at the plateau only moments before Wei Wuxian decapitated Wen Ruohan, before a shimmering net appeared around him, before he forced the unimaginable power of the demonic artifact to unravel, sacrificing himself to contain the massive explosion that followed.

Eyes wide, Lan Bolin stared at the scene of violently rippling powers tearing at themselves as Hanguang-jun screamed in such agony it felt like claws burrowing into his chest, and then there was nothing but a ringing silence and shocked disbelief.

And then another burst of unimaginable power as Hanguang-jun tore himself open to bring back the man he loved.

And Lan Bolin thought, Oh.

•••

”Lan Bolin,” Hanguang-jun says.

”Hanguang-jun,” he replies, posture straight.

”Why are you here?”

”I—” 

Hanguang-jun raises his hand and Lan Bolin closes his mouth with a snap. Of course, Hanguang-jun wouldn’t want to hear his excuses.

”Let me rephrase: why are you punishing yourself?”

Is this a test? He wonders. Hanguang-jun is still the head of discipline, it’s his duty to question me. 

”Lan Bolin,” Hanguang-jun says again and to his utter horror, kneels next to him.

”Hanguang-jun—!”

”Wei Ying is many things but he is never cruel. Not intentionally and not to those he cares about.”

Lan Bolin swallows. ”Please excuse, this one doesn’t understand.”

Hanguang-jun sighs, turns to look at him and places a gentle but firm hand on his arm holding his sword, and then slowly, inexorably, presses down. Lan Bolin has no choice but to let his arms slowly lower to his lap.

”But—this one failed,” he whispers.

”How?”

Lan Bolin jerks his head sideways, an aborted move. How? What does Hanguang-jun mean, ’how’?

”Explain to me your reasoning behind your claim,” Hanguang-jun says calmly.

”I—this one is supposed to keep Young Master Wei safe. This one didn’t. This one’s failure resulted in Young Master Wei being kidnapped and—” He swallows around a dry throat. ”And in a coma.”

Hanguang-jun lets out a small hum. ”Are you working with Lan Deming?”

Lan Bolin recoils so hard he accidentally flings his sword behind him. ”No! I would never—!”

”Calm yourself,” Hanguang-jun says. ”If you’re not working with Elder Deming, how could you have known he was going to act? I didn’t know, and neither did Xichen. Our uncle has been close to Elder Deming for decades and not even he knew. To know his plans, you would have needed to be closer to Elder Deming than us, to understand his most intimate thoughts. Do you presume yourself in that position?”

Mutely, Lan Bolin clenches his hands into fists and presses them against his thighs, forcing himself to calm down, and shakes his head.

”You couldn’t have known,” Hanguang-jun repeats. ”Therefore, your punishment is incorrect. It’s based not on regret or reflection of misconduct but on frustration over something you had no way of preventing.”

”But—” he looks up at Hanguang-jun. ”He still got hurt!”

”Yes. He did.” Hanguang-jun closes his eyes but not before Lan Bolin sees the fear and anguish in them. He ducks his head to give the other alpha a moment to collect himself but…for some reason he has the strangest feeling that Hanguang-jun allowed him to see that brief flicker of vulnerability.

”Wei Ying thinks very highly of you,” Hanguang-jun says after a moment. ”As do I. Your punishment is unnecessary.” With that, Hanguang-jun stands up and starts back to the Jingshi.

”Hanguang-jun,” Lan Bolin calls after him and waits for him to turn around. ”May I—Will you allow this one to guard your home? It would be an honor.”

Hanguang-jun looks at him for a moment with his whole focus and Lan Bolin realizes that Hanguang-jun’s undivided, piercing attention is just as intimidating as he’s heard. For a moment, neither of them speaks, and then, Hanguang-jun nods once before turning and heading inside.

He lets out a breath and for the first time since he knelt in front of the Jingshi, Lan Bolin starts to tremble.

•••

Of course he knew from the start it wasn’t love. It was something…not deeper but in every way as meaningful. If Hanguang-jun was cool and ethereal and calm like the moon, then Young Master Wei was the sun: burning so bright it blinded but where you still felt compelled to turn to. He was aware that some of it was simply the nature of their secondary genders: he was an alpha and Young Master Wei an omega, and it was in his biology to respond to him, Lan conditioning non-withstanding.

But it was something more. For the first time in his life, Lan Bolin felt dedication that anchored him and gave his life meaning. It wasn’t that his sect had come meaningless overnight but it was hard to not feel soul-deeply moved after witnessing the events in Nightless City. And he wasn’t the only one. His elite group was slowly aligning itself in the periphery of Young Master Wei’s halo, determined to guard his boundaries to allow him to blaze unhindered.

They never declared anything but situated themselves in strategic places, always staying out of the way but unyieldingly there, and when Sect Leader Lan asked them to stay with Hanguang-jun and his mate in Nightless City, he knew they’d been seen. At first, he wondered if Hanguang-jun would feel offended by their dedication but his doubts vanished soon. (He never doubted for a moment that Hanguang-jun would feel threatened. How could anything or anyone threaten Hanguang-jun and Young Master Wei’s profound bond? The one who thought that was surely as deranged as they were blind.) 

It was the most natural thing to fly in a protective formation with Hanguang-jun carrying Young Master Wei in the middle, and set up a camp around them. By the time they reached the Cloud Recesses, Lan Bolin’s small group of dedicated disciples flowed to shield Hanguang-jun and Young Master Wei in flawless unity, a united front against whatever displeasure the Elders would want to express.

It had become Lan Bolin’s second nature to make sure Young Master Wei was safe.

It only made his failure even more bitter to bear.

•••

”Do you know who I am?” A familiar voice says and then a person in lush grey-green robes sits on the boulder next to him.

Lan Bolin nods, slightly bewildered. ”Of course, Young Master Nie.” 

The omega cocks his head and gives him a long look through half-lidded eyes, gaze piercing and sharp even though his body language is that of lazy softness.

”That’s just my name, you know.”

”Yes, Young Master Nie.” Lan Bolin doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

Nie Huaisang lets his lips draw into a small smile. ”I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair to you.” He stays silent for a short moment and then sighs with a shake of his head. ”You Lans,” he says, fondly amused. ”You are something else.”

”I—thank you?”

Nie Huaisang waves his fan and the edges catch the afternoon light like polished steel. ”Ah, no need to thank me. I actually wanted to speak to you before Wei Wuxian wakes up properly.”

In his anxiety, Lan Bolin leans forward slightly. ”How is Young Master Wei?”

”Recovering.” Nie Huaisang says, something hidden and terribly intent in his eyes. ”Both he and Wangji will need trusted friends to help them heal.”

Lan Bolin reels internally at the mere thought of daring to call himself Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian’s friend. ”I—I will help them in any way I can,” he musters.

”I know you will,” Young Master Nie says. He stands up and then presses his hand on Lan Bolin’s shoulder for a moment. ”They know they are lucky to have you.”

Lan Bolin ducks his head and closes his eyes to keep his emotions under control. The ghost of Young Master Nie’s palm on his shoulder stays with him for the rest of the day.

It makes him feel warm.

Eyes, Wei Wuxian decides, are the best.

Whenever he finally manages to wrangle his uppity body back under his control, he’s going to sing praises for eyes. He’s going to dance for eyes and ask Lan Zhan to accompany him with his guqin.

Because eyes can see. And now that Wei Wuxian’s eyes have opened, he can see Lan Zhan—no, he can drink up the sight of his mate which makes everything infinitely more bearable. He can watch what Lan Zhan is doing and feel like he’s a part of this life once more. (How fortunate that Lan Zhan has a habit of propping him up a bit when he gets up. It would’ve been so boring to stare at the ceiling and wait for him to lean over.)

Lan Zhan drops his tea cup when he turns and their eyes meet, and even that is amazing.

Because eyes!

”Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan’s voice is a hushed, fervent whisper as he falls to his knees next to the bed and reaches out a shaking hand to cup Wei Wuxian’s cheek. ”Wei Ying, is it really you?”

He blinks once and wishes he could smile.

Lan Zhan blinks back. Then he narrows his eyes slightly and  says, ”You like Jin Zixuan.”

Wei Wuxian blinks twice because fuck no.

Something in Lan Zhan’s frame slumps with relief even though he stays completely still. ”Once for yes and twice for no,” he says.

YES! Wei Wuxian wants to yell and blinks, waits a moment, and blinks again. It’s not exactly the same as yelling but the way Lan Zhan’s eyes soften, it’s enough.

Lan Zhan lets out a sound that’s part sigh and part sob and leans forward to rest his forehead against Wei Wuxian’s and the hand cupping his cheek trembles. Poor Lan Zhan! Wei Wuxian can’t wait for his limbs to start working again because he wants to hug Lan Zhan. Like. For a day at least.

”What should we do today?” Lan Zhan asks some time later when he has himself under control. ”Would you like to go outside?”

Blink.

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says. ”Let me clean up first.”

Watching his mate pick up shards of porcelain from the floor shouldn’t feel as riveting as it does but after weeks of red-tinted darkness, Wei Wuxian is beyond thrilled. His eyes flicker from Lan Zhan to the desk behind him filled with scrolls to the stand where Bichen and Suibian rest side by side to the light curtains that sway slightly in the breeze. His field of vision is limited by his position but it still feels like so much.

He’s here. And he can see.

When he’s done, Lan Zhan bundles him up in a soft blanket and then lifts him into his arms, careful to make sure his head is properly supported. The morning is chilly and the ground is twinkling with dew, the small drops like translucent pearls clinging to the blades of grass. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure he’s stopped to appreciate grass before. 

Lan Zhan sits on the low bench by the wall and arranges Wei Wuxian on his lap as comfortably as possible. Breakfast, broths, and baths forgotten, they sit in silence for some time, just enjoying each other’s company, both relieved by this new turn of events that brings them hope.

Sun feels so good on his face. He closes his eyes and breathes in, imagining that he can inhale the golden light and let it spread through him like spiritual energy.

Lan Zhan moves slightly and presses a kiss on his forehead.

He opens his eyes, looks pointedly at Lan Zhan’s lips, then meets his eyes, and looks at his lips again.

”As you wish,” Lan Zhan says and kisses him properly.

He feels Huaisang’s presence before he’s visible on the path and a moment later, he hears the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Lan Zhan lets out an irritated huff and gives him a last, soft peck before moving them so that Wei Wuxian faces the path.

”Oh! Well,” Huaisang says, visibly pleased. ”This certainly makes things easier.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him.

”Excellent. By the way, have you talked to Lan Bolin yet?”

Confused, Wei Wuxian glances at Lan Zhan and blinks twice.

”Hm. You probably should.”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees.

Huaisang nods. ”While you do, I’ll get the others. Everyone will be happy to see you.” He brushes his scent against Wei Wuxian’s cheek as he always does, and Wei Wuxian tries to push his own scent back. So far, it hasn’t worked but this time, Huaisang’s brows shoot up.

Well then, Huaisang sends, delighted.

You felt that?

Oh, I did indeed.

Wei Wuxian feels so relieved he could cry.

Please, don’t. You should talk to Lan Bolin instead.

Why?

Because he’s been standing on the path leading to the Jingshi for the past three weeks.

Wait, what? Why would he do that?

That’s why I told you you should talk to him. To Lan Zhan, he says, ”I’ll be back with Xingchen-ge and A-Qing shortly. You should talk to Lan Bolin.”

Lan Zhan adjusts him slightly and stands up, following Huaisang along the path to where Lan Bolin is standing like a statue. He turns his head slightly when he hears steps from behind him, nods at Huaisang, and then his eyes blow wide when his eyes meet Wei Wuxian’s. He twitches as if he’s about to drop to his knees.

”Stop,” Lan Zhan says and Lan Bolin freezes. ”Wei Ying would like to talk with you.”

”He can answer simple yes and no questions by blinking his eyes,” Huaisang says, sounding amused. ”You need to look him in the eyes for it to work.” He winks at Wei Wuxian and takes his leave.

Lan Bolin turns bright red as he slowly lifts his head and meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes, then he squares his shoulders and nods. For a moment, nothing happens. Then he swallows and says, ”This one wants to apologize.”

Wei Wuxian blinks twice.

”I—I don’t understand.”

”Wei Ying disagrees,” Lan Zhan says. 

”But—”

Two blinks.

Something desperate flashes in Lan Bolin’s eyes. ”I don’t understand. I failed—”

Two blinks.

Lan Zhan sighs. ”Lan Bolin,” he says. ”We already had this conversation. Neither Wei Ying nor I blame you for what happened. Your dedication is appreciated but your self-blame is not.”

Lan Bolin hangs his head and his shoulders tremble. He looks exhausted. Has he really been blaming himself for what happened for all these weeks? Why? None of them knew what Lan Deming was planning!

Encouraged by his small success with his scent and Huaisang, Wei Wuxian concentrates and forces his scent out. He manages only a weak poke at Lan Bolin’s nose but it’s enough: the alpha’s head snaps up and he zeroes in on Wei Wuxian.

”Was that—Young Master Wei, was that you?”

He blinks and Lan Bolin swallows, visibly overwhelmed.

”Lan Bolin, you may return to your quarters,” Lan Zhan says. When Lan Bolin opens his mouth to refuse, Lan Zhan tilts his head slightly. ”You aren’t dismissed from your self-appointed duty. You are given a day to rest and recuperate—remember rule 95.”

Lan Bolin closes his eyes and recites, ”Love and respect yourself.”

”Mn. No one likes to see the people one cares about get hurt,” Lan Zhan says. ”But that care and consideration should extend to oneself as well. It is a hard lesson to learn but it is necessary. The only way one can make sure one is able to care for others is to also take care of oneself. It is not selfishness, it is being practical” He pauses and then continues, softer, ”Rest now, Lan Bolin. You may return to your post tomorrow.”

Lan Bolin bows deep. ”Yes, Hanguang-jun. Thank you, Hanguang-jun. Thank you, Young Master Wei.”

Lan Zhan inclines his head, then turns and walks calmly back to the Jingshi.

Wei Wuxian loves his silly, wonderful alpha so much.

”Wow. This must suck a lot,” A-Qing says brightly as she cocks her head and stares into Wei Wuxian’s eyes so close that their noses almost touch. ”And your eyes are so weird.”

”I’d suggest a slightly bigger distance,” Xiao Xingchen says. ”Unless you want Hanguang-jun to remove you.”

She’s going to drive Chengcheng absolutely insane and he’ll enjoy each moment he’s yelling at her, Wei Wuxian says proudly.

That sounds delightful, Huaisang says dryly.

A-Qing gives Lan Zhan a contemplative look and huffs. ”Fine. So, what are we doing here?”

I’d like you to explain just how you were able to locate me when I was cut off from everything around me, Wei Wuxian says, and Huaisang repeats his request word by word.

”Oh. Okay. Do you want a map?”

”Yes,” Lan Zhan says.

”Cool. So. I woke up because there was a lot going on, in a very un-Lan-like manner. You guys are usually so calm but sheesh, not this time. Your mate, for example?” A-Qing shakes her head. ”He was spilling all over the place, like...you know if you cook congee on too hot fire? It just foams and spills everywhere. So. That.” She glances at Lan Zhan who has a slightly pinched look on his face. ”Anyway, I decided to take a look around because it seemed like something was really fucked up. It sort of reminded me of that village—” Wei Wuxian shoots a sharp look at Xiao Xingchen but the alpha’s face stays smooth, ”—but it was subtler.

”So, I went back and forth a couple of times here,” she points at the map and Xichen marks it down (and at some point, Wei Wuxian is going to pick her brain on just how her eyes work), ”and every time I passed the tree that’s right here,” (another mark) ”I felt…it was like a gap in the void?” She sits back and cocks her head, tapping the floor with his fingers. ”I said I can feel resentful energy, just like I can see spiritual energy. But this was like there suddenly was just nothing. It wasn’t void like your creepy owl, it was like it wasn’t even there.”

Interesting, Wei Wuxian hums in his mind.

”After a couple of crossings, I realized I could just follow it?” She shrugs. ”It was like a path. Pretty clear and easy to follow.”

I wonder if she realizes just what she’s done.

Probably not. And I think we should keep quiet about the details anyway.

Huaisang’s presence sharpens again, cutting on the edges. Yes. I think that would most likely be wise.

”Oh, by the way, Xian-ge has the same gaps.”

Oh. That’s convenient.

Lan Zhan leans forward. ”Explain,” he says in a low, intense voice.

As it happens, figuring out the detours and roundabouts to get through the blockages in his meridians is a lot easier with the help of someone who can actually see where the problem lies. It’s still slow progress but it is progress, and Wei Wuxian is desperately grateful for it. 

The moment he regains his ability to speak, he first lets out a wildly embarrassing croak and then spends the evening chanting Lan Zhan’s name. They get no additional work done that day.

Jiang Yanli arrives at the Cloud Recesses almost a week after Wei Wuxian regained his voice. She sends no forewarning but just knocks on the JIngshi’s door one morning and enters with a familiar basket and a smile. Wei Wuxian cries a bit and then lets out a soul-deep sigh and breathes in all of her.

”You really should take better care of yourself, A-Xian,” she scolds with bright eyes.

”It wasn’t my fault! Not this time, I promise!”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees before he cups Wei Wuxian’s cheek, brushes his thumb along his temple, and steps outside to give Wei Wuxian alone time with his shijie. 

”How are you really?” Shijie asks softly.

Wei Wuxian lets out a non-committal sound and averts his eyes. ”It’s…weird. Hard. It’s better now that I can speak but…” He’d like to shrug or shake his head but so far, he’s only able to move his head a fraction. ”I thought this was over,” he admits a short moment later. ”And now I’m back at square one.”

”No, you’re not,” Shijie chides.

”Well, it sure as hell feels like it.”

Shijie boops him on the nose and then opens the basket. ”Only broth, no chewy bits yet,” she says, and it’s a shame even though the taste is still the same.

”What are you doing here, shijie?” He asks after she’s fed him half a bowl. ”Not that I don’t love having you here,” he hurries to add, ”But I thought you were busy in Lanling?”

”Oh, I have been, and this trip is part of it,” she says mildly. She lowers the bowl on her lap and glances surreptitiously around.

”The Jingshi and the area surrounding it is warded to the seven Hells and back,” Wei Wuxian says. ”And with Lan Zhan and Lan Bolin standing guard, nothing and no one will disturb us anyway.”

She looks like she’d like to roll her eyes a bit but settles for a small smile instead. ”I have been—hmm. Let’s settle with ’digging’. The reasons why and how are currently irrelevant, but as a result, I now have two people in my care who need a place to stay.”

He narrows his eyes slightly. If shijie has been digging around Lanling and as a result needs a place to hide two people, there’s a very strong chance they aren’t people the current Sect Leader Jin wants under her roof, which most likely means they are—

”How many of Jin Guangshan’s bastards have you been able to find so far?”

Shijie shakes her head. ”I should’ve known you’d guess it right away,” she mutters fondly. ”These two are the most pressing cases but I’m sure there are more.”

”And are they the reason you’ve been not-so-subtly asking me about what kind of an alpha Zhao Donghai is?” He asks wryly.

”Maybe,” she demurs. ”From what you’ve told me, I’m quite confident that the Zhoushan Zhao won’t look down on someone just based on their parentage. And the Zhao heir seems like a very nice young man and a decent, courageous alpha who doesn’t shy away from doing the right thing. I would very much like to meet him someday.”

”I’ve missed you, shijie,” he says, suddenly choked up. He’s missed her near him: her quiet, unassuming humor, her gentle fussing, and the way she effortlessly manages everyone around her. 

”Oh, Xianxian, this jie has missed you, too,” she whispers, eyes bright and a tremulous smile on her face. She gently wipes the tears from his cheeks and blows his nose on a handkerchief she just happens to have in her sleeve, and then feeds him the rest of the broth.

When he’s finally full, she puts the bowl away and sits on the bed, spreads a clean cloth over her lap, and takes out a jar of familiar, pungent-smelling ointment. She places his feet on her lap, removes his socks, and starts massaging the ointment on the sole of his left foot with the efficiency he remembers from years back. It’s actually a relief he’s yet to regain the full feeling in his feet because Shijie’s foot massages tend to hurt.

”The first one is someone I don’t want to name yet,” she says quietly. ”They needed a safe place to rest and since they have musical talent, I suggested that the Cloud Recesses would perhaps give them a chance to both ease their mind and concentrate on their studies. Their parents agreed and they themselves seemed to be relieved to get away from…home.

”Mo Xuanyu is here with his mother. He’s visiting his brother but we’re probably going to come up with something else to…smooth the way, so to speak. He’s a couple of years younger than you and he reminds me of you. Smart and quick and prone to get into trouble.”

He gasps, mock-affronted. ”I don’t—”

Shijie raises a brow. 

He tries to pout but his lips don’t quite want to obey him. Oh, well. ”And I assume he’s the one you’ve been matchmaking?”

”I’ve done no such thing,” Shijie says primly and then winks. ”I’ve merely asked some questions.”

Wei Wuxian cackles. 

Two days later, Young Master Zhao arrives at the Cloud Recesses, and he is not alone.

Lan Zhan flatly refuses to let Wei Wuxian meet Xue Yang face-to-face. 

”But Lan Zhan—!”

”No.”

Xichen clears his throat. ”I have to say that I agree with Wangji. You are still extremely vulnerable, Wuxian, and I don’t want to expose you to any more risk if I can avoid it.”

Wei Wuxian pouts but, yeah…he can understand their reluctance. His condition has been kept a tightly guarded secret and that might be an advantage. A paperman is out of the question because he’s still to regain his cultivation and even if he wasn’t, channeling even a tiny bit of his consciousness into a piece of paper would pose a risk. So, that’s a solid no.

”We could be in the room,” Huaisang says slowly. ”Xue Yang’s cultivation has been sealed and Su Minshan has been unconscious for a week now, so if both Xingchen-ge and I shield us behind a screen…” He taps his closed fan against his cheek.

Xichen sighs. ”If you’re absolutely certain…” He gives Lan Zhan a long look before closing his eyes and inclining his head slightly. ”Then that’s settled. Now, who should interrogate him?”

”How about Grand Master Qiren?” Wei Wuxian asks. ”He’s well-known and respected and everyone knows about his disdain toward omegas. We could use that.”

Huaisang nods slowly. ”That would work. His curtness could be played off as his general opinion on omegas and it would taunt Xue Yang.”

”How so?” Xichen asks.

”He craves attention. And while Lan Qiren is a respected teacher and a high-ranking member of Gusu Lan, he isn’t the Sect Leader or even a recognized Elder.” Huaisang pauses. ”Also, he’s just a beta.”

”I still fail to understand why someone would place so much emphasis on a secondary gender,” Xichen says.

”Respectfully, Xichen-ge, that’s your alpha privilege talking,” Wei Wuxian says. ”You were born to power, both as the sect heir and as an alpha male. You’ve never been in a situation where your gender—either of them—poses a threat or is a hindrance.”

”Ah,” Xichen says slowly and then nods. ”I feel like this is something I probably should contemplate at a later date.” He sighs and adds, ”I also think I should not be in the room. I might not be able to keep my temper.”

”Yeah, probably,” Wei Wuxian says, not unkindly. ”So, it’s me, Huaisang, Lan Zhan, and Xingchen-ge behind the screen and Lan Qiren and…who else?”

”Lan Bolin,” Lan Zhan says. 

”What—wait, really?”

”Mn.”

”An interesting choice,” Xichen says with a very definite undercurrent of Wangji, what the fuck?

”A logical choice,” Lan Zhan says calmly. ”Uncle cannot be there alone, it would be both unseemly and unwise. Lan Bolin has proven to be a level-headed alpha who isn’t easily swayed.” He hesitates and glances at Wei Wuxian. ”He’s also very dedicated to Wei Ying which I believe would protect him if Xue Yang attempted anything.”

”What about Zhao Donghai?” Wei Wuxian asks. ”He’s the one who brought them in.”

Xichen shakes his head. ”He already told us he’d keep an eye on Su Minshan.”

Ah. So he probably thinks he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool either, Wei Wuxian sends to Huaisang.

A wise choice. And how about you?

”I think we should cover the area in silencing talismans, just to be safe,” he says aloud.

It takes them a day to strip the Mingshi and then line it with both hidden and visible talismans to seal it completely. They bring in warded privacy screens and place them around the room, leaving a space in the middle for Xue Yang. 

Lan Zhan carries Wei Wuxian in and settles down, making sure they’re both comfortable for however long the interrogation will take. Xiao Xingchen and Huaisang follow behind, cleaning up the tracks and scent trails, and activating the complicated shielding array to guarantee their safety.

They wait a moment, and then the door opens.

”Well, this is just kinky,” a cheerful, slightly muffled voice drawls. ”I never knew the stuffy Lan would be into blindfolds and ropes.” A bit of shuffling and then a thunk when someone is pushed on their knees. ”Ouch! Careful! I bruise like a delicate fruit—or perhaps you’re into it?” A chuckle. ”I’ve heard that at least one of you Lans is a total beast in bed.”

Lan Zhan’s hand clenches against Wei Wuxian’s and he squeezes it back. 

”Cease your unimaginative dribble,” Lan Qiren snaps. 

There’s a rustle and a gasp, then Xue Yang snorts. ”Yeah, well, no, that beast clearly isn’t you. Why am I here?”

”Do you pretend not to know why?”

Xue Yang titters. ”Ah, no. I mean, why am I here with you and—” he shuffles, ”—a low-ranking alpha?”

”Who are your contacts?” Lan Qiren asks flatly.

”And why would I tell you?” Xue Yang sing-songs.

”Because we’re the only ones who will listen. You can either talk to me or gloat in solitude.”

”Uh, you’re no fun,” Xue Yang huffs. ”But you don’t have to be. There are so many other Lans who are much fun. Yes, so much fun.”

Wei Wuxian can practically taste Lan Qiren’s eye roll. ”Do you always spew so much nonsense when someone is forced to listen to you?”

”Forced? If someone is forced, it’s me!”

Lan Qiren huffs. The thing about Lan Qiren’s huffs is that they’re perfectly reasonable from his point of view but for the individual to whom they’re directed at? They’re irresistible. And if Xue Yang is even slightly like Wei Wuxian, he won’t be able to resist the temptation to—

”Oh, fuck you and your pretentious sect.”

”Expletives,” Lan Qiren says flatly. ”How original.”

”Oh, but I am so much more,” Xue Yang hisses. ”You have no idea of just how original I am—the only one who could even come anywhere close to my intelligence is your precious Wei Wuxian and he’s out.”

”Who told you that?”

Xue Yang’s high-pitched laughter is tinkling like bells and is completely unhinged. ”Not so high and mighty anymore?”

Lan Qiren sighs like Xue Yang is being purposefully obtuse. ”No, I mean what makes you think that Wei Wuxian is, as you said, ’out’?”

Xue Yang’s laughter cuts short. ”No. That’s impossible,” he says in a low voice.

Lan Qiren hums. It sounds smug and Wei Wuxian can see the small self-satisfied curl on the corner of his mouth.

”There is no coming back from The Sleep of Endless Night.”

”’The Sleep of Endless Night’?” Lan Qiren repeats. ”What an unnecessarily dramatic name. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, considering what you are.”

”Fuck you!”

”Is that all you’re capable of? Spewing filth and gloating about something that didn’t even work? How disappointing.”

A scuffle and then a slam. Did Xue Yang try to attack Lan Qiren? Wei Wuxian shoots a worried glance at Lan Zhan who doesn’t seem worried. Huh. Okay then. Next to them, Xiao Xingchen sits still, radiating calm and serenity, and on the other side, Nie Huaisang stares at the privacy screen as if he’s able to see through it.

Suddenly, Xue Yang starts to laugh. ”Oh, it works. I know it works because I’ve already done it. You stupid Lans with your stupid rules can’t even imagine what I’ve already accomplished. In Tingshan, in Yueyang, in Anping. I’ve done things no one else—”

Wei Wuxian’s attention snaps to Huaisang who lets out a quiet swear. ”I think this has gone on long enough,” he says under his breath, stands up, and walks around the screen, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s furious hiss.

”Ohhh,” Xue Yang coos. ”I should’ve known there was someone else in here. This room was just a bit too silent—”

”Do you want to tell me what you’ve been up to or are you going to insist on being an idiot?” Huaisang interrupts conversationally. There’s an edge in his voice Wei Wuxian has never heard before and it makes him shiver.

”You can’t do anyth—”

”Have it your way then,” Huaisang says.

Two things happen at the same time: Xue Yang starts to scream and Wei Wuxian reaches out through the mental connection, yelling What the fuck are you doing??—But instead of opening the familiar link between Huaisang and him, he briefly sees through his friend and into Xue Yang’s mind. He only gets a glimpse before Huaisang shoves him out but that glimpse is enough to make him whimper and dry heave in Lan Zhan’s arms.

His mate lets out a low, urgent sound and turns him to peer into his eyes. ”Wei Ying?” He asks, bewildered, as Wei Wuxian wiggles his infuriatingly uncooperative body to get as close to his alpha as possible.

”Need—just you, please,” he whispers and gulps down Lan Zhan’s scent, gripping the collar of his robe in a white-knuckled hold.

On the other side of the screen, Xue Yang’s scream rises in pitch until it dies out in a choked-off gurgle.

A ringing silence rules the space for what feels like an eternity, and then Lan Qiren asks, ”Young Master Nie, what did you do?”

”Don’t worry, Grand Master, he won’t be a threat to anyone anymore,” Huaisang says in an oddly detached voice. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me—” He leaves the Mingshi in unhurried steps.

”Lan Zhan, we have to follow him!” Wei Wuxian hisses through his own discomfort. ”Something’s wrong—he’s not alright.”

Reluctantly, Lan Zhan nods and stands up with Wei Wuxian in his arms. As they round the privacy screen, he sees Xue Yang sprawled on the ground in a heap, eyes rolled over and bleeding from his qiqiao. Lan Bolin kneels next to him, carefully checking his pulse.

Wei Wuxian averts his eyes.

Outside, one of Lan Bolin’s alphas points them to the back of the building, and as soon as they round the corner, they see Huaisang on his knees, violently vomiting. The acrid smell of sick turns Wei Wuxian’s stomach  and reminds him of what he saw in Xue Yang’s mind. He doesn’t even want to consider what Huaisang saw.

”Sang-ge,” he calls softly. ”Huaisang, it’s me.”

Huaisang doesn’t turn but he slowly pushes himself to kneel up.

And then his shoulders start to shake.

”Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says, but his mate is already moving. He sets Wei Wuxian on the ground and then sweeps off his outer robe, covering Huaisang’s sick. The spells woven into the fabric mute the smell, making it easier to breathe. He nods to Wei Wuxian and turns around, both to stand on guard and give them some privacy.

”Huaisang, I want to hug you but I still can’t move properly,” Wei Wuxian tries to reason. ”Come here.”

The look in his friend’s eyes is heartbreaking. ”I didn’t want to—” he chokes out. ”But I had—Wei-xiong, I had to, I had to, I had to—” He shuffles the small distance to Wei Wuxian and crumples into a small, sobbing heap. ”He was planning to—the poisons—I saw it all, Wei-xiong—the things he did—”

”I know,” Wei Wuxian whispers and manages to lift his hand to brush his hair. 

”Da-ge—I couldn’t let him—I just couldn’t—”

”I know.”

”I ripped his meridians apart,” Huaisang whispers, barely audible. ”And I severed his connection to his omega side.”

Wei Wuxian freezes, bewildered. How—was that even possible? 

Huaisang lets out a whimper. ”I’m a monster,” he mouths against Wei Wuxian’s chest. ”A monster. A monster, a monster, a monster, a—”

Wei Wuxian grits his teeth, forces his mind to work and pushes, and knocks him out. It only works because Huaisang is so out of it and frankly, it scares the shit out of him.

”Lan Zhan,” he calls out softly. ”I think he needs a healer.”

Lan Zhan turns to take an assessing look at Huaisang slumped on his lap, nods, and walks around the corner only to return with Lan Bolin.

”Young Master Wei, would it be alright for me to pick him up?” Lan Bolin asks softly.

He nods. ”Yeah. Sure. I think he’d appreciate it if it was you.”

Lan Zhan picks up his soiled robe and bundles it up so that the mess is securely inside before he hands it to Wei Wuxian and picks him up. As soon as they emerge from behind the Mingshi, Lan Bolin’s alphas form a tight, defensive ring around them, and together, they head to the healers.

Wen Qing is, understandably, not thrilled.

”Why am I not surprised that you’re involved in this?” She asks. Her tone is exasperated but her hands work fast, taking Huaisang’s pulse and scanning his meridians. She quirks a brow at Wei Wuxian who mouths, Later, to her and then proceeds to mix a potion.

”He’s emotionally drained and his qi is unstable,” she says, eyes on her work. ”I’m giving him a mild sedative to make sure he rests. I’ll keep him under observation until morning, you can come to see him tomorrow after breakfast.” She stops and looks up with a frown. ”Was there something else? If not, shoo. I’m working.”

”Thank you,” Wei Wuxian says over Lan Zhan’s shoulder on their way out.

”We should go talk to Brother,” Lan Zhan says quietly. He looks frayed on the edges which means he probably just wants to tuck Wei Wuxian in and hold his hand for a week. Sadly, that isn’t an option yet.

He still pouts. ”Fine, but give me a kiss first.”

Lan Zhan does and then he rests their foreheads together, and for a moment, they just stand there and breathe. And then his alpha sighs, straightens his spine, and starts toward the Hanshi with Lan Bolin trailing behind them.

Because Lan Zhan is hideously underdressed in just four robes—a scandal Wei Wuxian would usually tease him about—they stop by the Jingshi first to leave the soiled robe and pick Lan Zhan a fresh one. When they finally make it to the Hanshi, they’re met with an awkward silence. Lan Qiren stands next to the window, staring out with his jaw gritted tight and shoulders tense, Xiao Xingchen stands by the opposite wall, looking miserable, and Xichen, Meng Yao, and Jiang Cheng are wearing different kinds of confused looks.

Lan Qiren waits until they close the door behind them before slapping on one of the most powerful privacy talismans Wei Wuxian has ever seen him use. ”Would anyone care to explain what just happened in there?” He asks tightly. ”I’m sure Sect Leader Lan would appreciate the information.”

”I gather things didn’t exactly go as planned,” Xichen says slowly.

”I wouldn’t know. They might have,” Lan Qiren says, shooting a glare at Wei Wuxian.

”Uncle,” Lan Zhan growls, a warning.

Lan Qiren huffs and swipes his sleeves back, turning to stare out of the window again.

”Where’s Huaisang?” Jiang Chen asks, looking from Lan Qiren to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian would like to first rub a hand over his face and then sleep for a week. Instead, he heaves out a sigh and says, ”Huaisang is currently lightly sedated and resting after…” he trails away, trying to come up with an explanation for what had happened.

”Ah,” Meng Yao says. ”So it was as we feared.”

”A-Yao?” 

He touches Xichen’s wrist lightly and sighs. ”Huaisang and I have been pooling our resources for some time now but things didn’t quite make sense until late Madam Lan’s journal. Sadly, it made glaringly clear that the Lan sect wasn’t the only one Xue Yang was targeting. The Lan were just the ones who were most eager to exploit his more…” he makes a face, ”adventurous experiments. However, it didn’t answer all our questions because, understandably, her knowledge was mostly about Gusu Lan.”

”I saw a glimpse of it,” Wei Wuxian says quietly. ”Before Huaisang cut me out. It was—” he shivers and presses his face against Lan Zhan’s neck.

”It was still a violation,” Lan Qiren mutters. ”Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.”

”Xue Yang isn’t dead,” Lan Bolin says. ”But as far as I was able to tell, he’s now as good as a neutered mundane.”

There’s a moment of shocked silence and then Jiang Cheng grinds out, ”I’m too fucking sober for this.” 

Meng Yao lets out a considering hum. ”I think we could use some tea,” he says. ”Refreshing or calming? Uncle?”

Lan Qiren flinches slightly and clears his throat. ”I—I would like some calming tea. Thank you.”

”Yes, I think calming tea would indeed be the best choice for all of us,” Xichen agrees. ”Thank you, A-Yao.”

”Of course,” Meng Yao says.

They sit in silence as they wait for the tea to steep, and when they have the tea in front of them, it feels like they all stall, concentrating on the steam that rises from the delicate, pale blue cups.

”Now. Start from the beginning,” Xichen finally says calmly.

Lan Qiren gives his clipped, perfectly accurate account of the events up until the moment Huaisang calmly walked out and pressed two fingers on Xue Yang’s forehead. ”And that is where my knowledge ends,” he says stiffly. ”I don’t know what happened or how Young Master Nie did what he did, and I’m not sure I even want to know.”

”You probably don’t,” Wei Wuxian says. He’s tired and it makes him blunt. ”I think it was a form of telepathic connection, a variation of how he’s been communicating with me.”

Xichen gives him a sharp look. ”Do you mean he could do the same to you?”

”Could?” Wei Wuxian asks. ”Sure he could. Just like I’d be able to do terrible things to each and every one of you. Or not everyone, Xiao Xingchen is pretty much immune because of his training.” He glances at Xiao Xingchen who hasn’t moved and who doesn’t look like he even heard Wei Wuxian’s comment.

”The real question isn’t whether or not A-Sang could do something,” Meng Yao says calmly. ”It’s if he would. And he won’t.”

”How can you be sure of that?” Lan Qiren demands.

Meng Yao tilts his head slightly and smiles. ”Just like you can be sure that even with the tremendous power your nephews have, they won’t abuse that power. I know him and I trust him, Uncle.”

Lan Qiren frowns but doesn’t protest, choosing to sip his tea instead.

”Xue Yang’s current condition does present a problem, though,” Xichen says. ”He’s a criminal who needs to face justice. He’s wronged not just our sect but hundreds of other people with his experiments.”

”I will take responsibility,” Xiao Xingchen says quietly. 

”Daoshan—”

”This happened because of my failure,” Xiao Xingchen continues as if he doesn’t even notice Meng Yao is talking. He raises his head and faces Wei Wuxian, expression full of regret and anguish. ”I believed him—believed in him even though I should’ve known better. Zichen got hurt because of me, and all those people…” He pauses and to Wei Wuxian’s horror, the bandage over his eyes starts to slowly turn red.

”Daoshan, we don’t yet know what condition Xue Yang will wake up,” Meng Yao says gently. ”He might be able to walk and talk or he might be bedridden for the rest of his life.”

”And then there’s the other guy,” Jiang Cheng says gruffly. His face is grim and Zidian hasn’t stopped running small sparks along his right arm since the moment they came in. 

Xichen’s face hardens. ”It’s highly likely that he’s the one who opened the wards to let the Wen in. That itself is a capital offense. On top of that, he impersonated an inner Lan disciple. In many sects, that alone would warrant an execution. However…thinking about his aspirations and his involvement in this plot, I feel like execution would be letting him off lightly.” He pauses and adds, ”And I don’t want his death on my hands.”

”You could always just whip him,” Jiang Cheng points out.

Lan Qiren shakes his head. ”That would also recognize his place in the sect he’s left. Our disciplinary whip is reserved for our disciples. Su Minshan is not and will never again be that.”

”By the way, where is he now?” Wei Wuxian asks.

”Confined in the guest quarter with Young Master Zhao and a handful of selected guards,” Lan Bolin says.

”We could always give him a choice,” Meng Yao muses. ”His spiritual energy will naturally be permanently sealed, but we could let him choose where to go from there.”

”And what would be his choices?” Lan Qiren asks.

”I don’t know yet,” Meng Yao says with a light frown. ”Dongying?”

”Us,” Xiao Xingchen says. ”He could choose to travel with us.”

Something in Meng Yao’s pained smile tells Wei Wuxian this is exactly what he wants to hear. ”Daoshan, I think you should talk to your partner before offering.”

”Zichen will agree,” Xiao Xingchen says.

Meng Yao sighs. ”Fine. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Was there something else?”

”Yes,” Lan Qiren says. ”The most obvious thing: now that Xue Yang is incapacitated, we have no way of getting the information we need.”

”Oh that? Meng Yao says. ”There’s no need to worry. Huaisang will write a list as soon as he wakes up . More tea, anyone?”

For as long as Wen Qing remembered, she’d been afraid.

First, it was the overspill from her parents, an oily, bitter taste in the back of her mouth. She didn’t know what it was, only that it had something to do with Mama’s cousin. Mama and Baba were very careful around her and A-Ning but she picked up a lot more than they realized, building up the bigger picture from scattered crumbs and half-whispered words. What made it through loud and clear was this: Uncle Ruohan was dangerous and she should never, ever make him mad.

When she was eleven and A-Ning was eight, their parents died and she became the leader of their branch family. No one dared to say it aloud but she knew that Uncle Ruohan was behind it. He took her and A-Ning under his wing, so to speak, although it was clear he did it to keep them under control—most importantly, to keep her under control. At eleven, Wen Qing was already a medical prodigy and the pride and joy of both their parents and her tutors. Uncle Ruohan wanted that skill in his command and because Uncle Ruohan was the supreme leader of the whole Wen clan, she and A-Ning did as they were told.

It wasn’t until she hit puberty that she realized just how lucky she was to be an alpha and a woman. Had she been an omega, Uncle Ruohan would’ve either mated her to his son or bedded her himself. Had she been a man, she would already be dead. But as an alpha woman, she was relatively safe—as long as she did exactly as she was told. So, she grit her teeth, bowed before her Uncle, and swore undying loyalty.

•••

And then, Wei Wuxian happened.

(She would later learn this to be true for many people. They are living their lives, managing their daily affairs to the best of their abilities, and then—Wei Wuxian. It’s both a blessing and a curse, and to this day, she isn’t sure with side is winning.)

•••

She tried to hate him first. She truly did, but it was hard to hate a man who not only took A-Ning under his wing and decided they were best friends now but who also was so dearly loved by Jiang Yanli. (Wen Qing had tried to push her time in the Cloud Recesses out of her mind. No point in dwelling on the past that would never again be the present.) Yes, Wei Wuxian’s plan to overthrow Uncle Ruohan was laudable but she didn’t think he’d succeed.

Not at first.

Then she learned just how brilliant and obviously unhinged Wei Wuxian was, and he wanted to punch something—preferably Wei Wuxian. How dare he waltz into her life with his good heart and warm smiles and his love for learning and justice, and then claim he was going to do something as moronic as he was planning? How dare he!  (This, too, she would later learn, is something Wei Wuxian tends to do on a regular basis.) How dare he make her smile and worry about him—she already had a didi, she didn’t need another!  

And yet, there she was, worrying herself sick over this stubborn, terrible, wonderful man who was ready to do unbearable things—unimaginable things—just to make sure the world wouldn’t fall under a tyrant. Each week, Wei Wuxian took tea with her on the pretense of making sure his ”fragile omega physiology” (as Uncle called it) would hold up to the demands of Nightless City when in reality, she was treating him for the same resentful energy poisoning that was ailing her sect leader. In the process, she learned to know Wei Wuxian. 

She sometimes wished she didn’t. His death would be so much easier to bear if she didn’t grow attached.

•••

If there was something she didn’t need in her life, it was yet another stubborn, beautiful, and completely unhinged man but somehow, that happened.

What even was her life?

(Chaotic, wonderful, breathtaking, interesting, and finally with people she could care about with her whole heart.)

She didn’t think what Wei Wuxian was set to do was possible.

She couldn’t even imagine anyone trying to dream about what Hanguang-jun did as a result.

These men were going to be the death of her. (But that will happen later because she needs to write several medical dissertations on pretty much everything they did—do—will later do first. And that will take a lifetime.)

•••

”Dull, unimaginative, stagnant,” Uncle had once said about the Gusu Lan sect. ”They’ve stopped reaching forward and are complacent with staying back, being passive. It makes them weak and gullible.”

Truth be told, Wen Qing wasn’t that thrilled about the idea of living in the Cloud Recesses. While she knew that about four-fifths of what Wei Wuxian whined about was an exaggeration, the rigidity of the place seemed daunting. She wasn’t concerned about the bland food or the no alcohol rule—to her food was a necessity that kept her body in working order. Excessive spice and alcohol weren’t necessary. What worried her more was the hierarchy she was going to face: All Lan healers were beta men, how would they react to a Wen doctor who was a female alpha? Would she be able to keep working or would she be kept under guard? 

She was more relieved that she was willing to admit when Lan Xiaoqing, the head healer, turned out to be a no-nonsense man who didn’t give a rat’s ass about trivialities like primary or secondary genders, or how his patients wanted to express them. If it didn’t interfere with his work, he didn’t care. He had a sense of humor so dry it crackled, his filing system made her swoon, and he didn’t waste her time with unnecessary courting games. He listened to her arguments, tried to turn her reasoning upside down, and pushed her to be more.

Wen Qing liked Lan Xiaoqing.

More people should be like Lan Xiaoqing.

•••

All in all, life in the Cloud Recesses is pretty nice. She has her own rooms and a dedicated study, and she’s free to work on theorems on higher cultivation and the intricacies of golden cores. A-Ning assists her as much as he wishes and no one tries to harass him. A-Yuan is growing like a bean sprout now that he was finally out of the noxious fumes of Nightless City, and his unbridled joy about everything makes her heart sing.

She can send and receive letters without fear that an errant word will get her family killed.

She can have friends.

So, when she learns that someone threatened the people she cradles in her heart, she’s ready for war. Just because she’s a doctor doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous.

Wen Qing made an oath to herself to protect her people. Her knives are sharp and her needles ready, and they can be used to hurt just as well as heal.

She is Wen Qing of the Dafan Wen, the rightful Heir of the Qishan Wen, and she is no longer afraid. 

The world will burn before she lets it take any more of her loved ones away from her.

Nie Huaisang is awake the next morning when Lan Zhan carries Wei Wuxian into his room. He sits on the bed in a white disciple robe, looking younger and more fragile than Wei Wuxian has seen him in…perhaps ever?

”Huaisang?” He says softly and waits for him to raise his head. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and then Huaisang drops his gaze back onto the stack of papers on his lap.

Wei Wuxian glances at Lan Zhan who nods and gently sets him on the bed next to his friend. ”I’ll wait outside,” Lan Zhan says softly and walks out. He’ll probably stand right outside the door and stares down everyone who even dares to breathe toward the room. Silly, wonderful alpha, and he’s all Wei Wuxian’s.

There’s a knock on the doorframe and then Wen Qing walks in carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups. ”This is for both of you. It’s bitter and it’s strong, and I expect you both to drink a minimum of three cups each. Is that clear?”

”Yes, Qing-jie,” Wei Wuxian says and bows as well as he’s able. He’s slowly regaining more and more of his muscle control and can do things like sitting up on his own now. Progress!

Wen Qing narrows her eyes at him, then turns to Huaisang and grips his shoulder for a moment, offering him a tight smile when he glances up. Huh. That’s new.

”How about we pretend I ask you how you’re feeling and you answer you’re fine and then I say great and then we drink tea?” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully when they’re alone again. ”Okay? Good!”

Huaisang huffs which is exactly what he was aiming for. 

”Pour some tea, will you? I can handle the cup with both hands but if I try to pour tea, I’ll keel over and spill it all on the floor and Wen Qing will have my hide. And I don’t want that. It’s a nice hide. Lan Zhan likes it.”

Huaisang gives him a dry look but pours the tea, hands Wei Wuxian a cup, and then just sits there, his own cup in his hand.

He takes a sip—eugh, it’s just as strong and bitter as Wen Qing warned—and then softly asks, ”Is that the list of everything?” 

Huaisang nods. 

He hums. ”Does it help, writing it out?”

”No,” Huaisang says in a hollow voice. ”Not really.”

”Yeah, didn’t think so,” he says. ”Lan Zhan always tries to make me talk after I have a nightmare but it doesn’t make it any easier. But I still do it because it’s Lan Zhan and if I say no, he gets all sad, and, uh, I can’t handle it.”

Huaisang doesn’t reply.

After a moment, We Wuxian sighs. ”Look,” he says seriously. ”Nothing you say or do will make a difference. I’m pretty sure you know that. You abused your power over someone and that’s not something you can just brush away. Even if you had a reason. Even if you were afraid for yourself or for the people you love. You chose to hurt someone and that decision will stay with you for the rest of your life.” He pushes to make his hand work and manages to wrap his arm around Huaisang’s tense shoulders. ”You will learn to live with it, eventually, because it’s the only way to keep going.”

Huaisang swallows and a shiver runs through him. ”I’m sorry,” he whispers.

”For what?”

”For—for making you—”

”Um, no,” he interrupts. ”You didn’t make me do anything. I made those decisions all of my own.”

”But—”

”Aiyah,” he huffs. ”Let me deal with my fuckups and I’ll help you deal with yours. For now. You get to do that on your own later when you’re not going all fragile omega on me.”

”F-fuck you, Wei-xiong,” Huaisang hiccups. 

”Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says and bumps his side but the movement is slightly off, and tilts them to their sides on the bed. There’s still tea in their cups and it spills all over their laps, soiling Huaisang’s white robes and the papers on his lap. Wei Wuxian doesn’t care; the robes will wash and Huaisang has perfect recollection anyway. They could burn the papers and he could still provide them with the information they need. For now, though, it’s important his friend gets all of this out of his system. 

Huaisang’s hiccups turn into quiet sobs and he cries into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, snot and tears turning the fabric damp in no time. He’s a quiet crier, barely letting out a sound, and Wei Wuxian wonders how long he’s been holding this in. Huaisang gives off a sense of cool nonchalance and idleness but he’s known for years that’s not who and what his friend is.

When Huaisang’s sobs peter out and his breathing deepens into sleep, Wei Wuxian lets out a controlled, relieved sigh. He sends out a tendril of his scent to poke at Lan Zhan and a moment later, the door opens. Lan Zhan pauses and then enters, walking carefully to the bed. He picks up the fallen cups and Huaisang’s papers and sets them on the table and spreads a warm, fluffy blanket over them. He’s quiet as a ghost, even though Wei Wuxian is pretty sure Huaisang wouldn’t wake up even if they talked aloud. 

Thank you, Wei Wuxian mouths and is rewarded with the softest of smiles, the kind that makes him blush and feel all mushy inside. The result seems to please Lan Zhan who turns and walks out with a distinctive air of smugness. 

He’s probably going to sit right outside the door and meditate. Ugh. Lan Zhan.

Huaisang is a warm weight against his side but he feels too jittery to sleep. Instead, he decides to run through some talisman ideas he’s been shoving into the back of his mind to give space for more urgent matters. But now that he has the chance, he retrieves his ideas one by one. It calms him down and keeps him occupied while Huaisang sleeps and who knows, he might even come up with something new while he’s at it.

As he works, part of his mind puzzles over the incident in the Mingshi. Something that Xue Yang said triggered Huaisang to act but what? Something about his experiments working and the places they worked…and what Xue Xiurong said about nulling alphas, qi-deviations, changing gender—

Wait.

He bites back the urge to groan. He’s so stupid! Of course Huaisang would absolutely freak out if he learned that Xue Yang had the means to push cultivators to qi-deviation! That was where pretty much the whole Nie sect was heading due to their cultivation style! And while their fate is more or less known to all sect leaders, it still doesn’t mean any Nie would be comfortable having the knowledge of just how easy it could be out in the open.

Oh, Huaisang.

He closes his eyes and flips through his mind, trying to gather up all the bits and pieces he so far has figured out of a talisman or a meditation technique to help the Nie to get rid of the resentful energy they slowly accumulate. It would need to be something that could be used both in private and in a group meditation situation, and they’d need a conduit to get it out… He loses himself in the designs and only comes back to himself when Huaisang stirs. He sighs and turns to his back, gently moving Wei Wuxian’s arm to rest on his chest. It’s nice because his arm has been numb pretty much since Lan Zhan walked out.

”Sorry for drooling on you,” Huaisang says.

”What’s a little spittle between friends?”

”I don’t think your alpha agrees,” Huaisang says dryly.

”I said ’a little.’ Not ’a lot.’ There’s a difference.”

Huaisang elbows him on the side.

They rest side by side for a moment, staring silently up. The Lan paint their healing pavilion’s ceilings white but there are hairline fractures that run through the white paint. It seems weirdly fitting.

”There’s so much,” Huaisang finally says softly. ”He did so much damage.” Wei Wuxian hums which seems to be enough for Huaisang to continue. ”He wiped out whole villages just for fun and tortured people simply because they happened to be there. He found joy in others’ pain and listening to parents beg for their children made him amused.” He draws a shuddering breath and shakes his head. ”All he did was because he wanted to. He had no grand plan, no high ideals driving him, nothing but sheer want to wreak chaos.”

”Would it really have been better if he had an agenda?” Wei Wuxian asks. ”At least now he was terrible to everyone.”

”I guess so,” Huaisang says. He opens his mouth and then closes it, and finally takes a deep breath and lets it slowly out. ”Alright then,” he says and sits up. ”I better write it out in a more organized manner.”

”Mn,” Wei Wuxian says and calls for Lan Zhan. 

When they’re on their way out, he taps his alpha once on the chest and they turn around. Huaisang is once more sitting on the bed, a stack of papers on his lap, and a small frown between his brows. He still looks brittle but not like he’s about to fall into pieces. 

”Huaisang, talk to Xiao Xingchen. I think you’d both benefit from the chat.”

His friend looks up from his writing and gives him a long look. ”Thank you,” he says quietly. ”I’ll think about it.”

From the outside, life in the Cloud Recesses seems to go on mostly as usual. Nothing indicates that Second Jade’s mate was attacked or that they’re holding a deranged mass-murderer prisoner. Especially now that Wei Wuxian is talking, they can always play his condition as a setback in his recovery. It’s all sorts of depressing how well it works.

But of course, if one bothers to pay attention, the changes are obvious: Lan Qiren is significantly tenser than ever before, Xichen hardly smiles, and both Meng Yao and Wei Wuxian are always escorted by several of Lan Bolin’s alphas, regardless of if they are with their mates or not. And for some reason, Jiang Cheng has taken into the habit of prowling the borders of the Cloud Recesses like a caged tiger.

Previously, Wei Wuxian would’ve thought the whole thing was either hilarious or terribly embarrassing. Nowadays, not so much.

”How are you feeling, A-Xian?” Shijie asks a couple of days after the Mingshi incident as she braids his hair. He’ll end up with ridiculously elaborate, old-fashioned Jiang festival braids again but he doesn’t care. This relaxes them both, and Lan Zhan’s playing helps even more.

”Worried,” he says. ”It’s going to take a long time to weed out all the seeds Xue Yang planted.” And then he makes a face at his choice of words, reminded of Elder Deming’s garden comparison.

”I think both Huaisang and Meng Yao have people working on that,” she says calmly.

He sighs. ”I know. I guess I’m still not used to staying still and being useless.”

Lan Zhan lets out a displeased hum and Shijie yanks his hair slightly as a reprimand. 

”You aren’t useless, you’re recovering,” she says sternly. ”Now, Wangji mentioned something about a modified talisman that could be used as an…what did he call it, echo chamber to amplify something?”

He knows what she’s doing and he loves her so much for it. He launches into an explanation of his latest experiment on drawing out residual resentful energy and she hums through it, asking insightful questions that make him stop and take notes. As a distraction, it’s a good one. 

His Shijie is awesome. He’s gonna miss her so much when she returns to Lotus Pier in a couple of days but he knows he can’t keep her for himself, no matter how much he wants to.

”Oh, I invited a guest for dinner,” she says when he pauses for yet another bout of notes. ”I hope you don’t mind?”

”Anyone I know?”

She smiles. ”Yes, but I hope we’ll get to know him even better in time.”

He turns his head to give her a look. ”You have a scheming smile on,” he says slowly. ”What are you planning?”

”Me? Nothing!” Her eyes are wide and innocent. ”I will see you, Wangji, and A-Cheng later today.” She kisses him on the cheek, stands up, and leaves the Jingshi before Wei Wuxian has the chance to ask further questions.

”Lan Zhan, what was that?!”

”An invitation to dinner, I presume,” his alpha deadpans without looking up from his guqin.

”Lan Zhaaaan!”

Lan Zhan stops playing and gives him a patient look. Wei Wuxian groans and flops back on the bed. It doesn’t quite have the desired dramatic effect because he knows he can’t yet get up without Lan Zhan’s help, but he figures it’s the thought that counts.

(He’s mollified when Lan Zhan huffs, puts his guqin away, and then kisses him until he’s a shivering mess.)

They meet Jiang Cheng on their way to his and Shijie’s appointed guest quarters. He still looks like he’s brewing a storm inside him but his shoulders visibly relax when he sees Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian. He nods to Lan Zhan and gives Wei Wuxian a narrow-eyed once-over, making him feel like he’s a piece of meat being judged. 

He’s about to snap at Jiang Cheng when someone moves behind his brother and—

Suddenly he has the weirdest feeling of looking into a slightly distorted mirror.

”What…” he breathes out, making Lan Zhan’s head snap up and Jiang Cheng whirl around with Zidian sparkling in his hand.

”What the fuck,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. ”Why does he look like you?”

”He does? Right?” He says faintly. ”I’m not, I don’t know, hallucinating or anything?”

”Wei Ying, have you been hallucinating?” Lan Zhan asks carefully.

”Not that I know of…” His voice trails away as he stares at the young man slowly walking across the yard with a book in hand, completely oblivious to the world around him. ”This is so weird.”

”Yeah, imagine how I feel,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

The man—or perhaps still a boy?—looks almost disturbingly similar to Wei Wuxian. He’s perhaps slightly shorter and more slender (which might be just because of his age) and his hair has a frizzy look about it. But his nose reminds Wei Wuxian’s own as does his jawline and…This is SO weird.

”A-Yu?” A woman calls. ”A-Yu, I told you not to wander off. We’re supposed to meet your brother for dinner and you know we cannot be late!”

The boy looks up and what the fuck, he has Wei Wuxian’s eyes. The old ones, not the new silver ones, but…

Wait.

A-Yu? 

Wei Wuxian has a sinking feeling he knows who this boy is and he’s going to have words with Shijie. Gentle words, but words.

Yes.

He shakes himself a bit when the boy hurries to his mother and shares a slightly bewildered look with Jiang Cheng.

”What the fuck,” Jiang Cheng repeats.

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says and holds him a bit tighter.

Jiang Yanli, of course, merely smiles when Jiang Cheng asks about the boy. ”Oh, that must’ve been Xuanyu,” she says mildly, confirming Wei Wuxian’s doubts. ”He’s such a lovely young man. I like him.”

Wei Wuxian is about to ask What the fuck? (Only in different words) when there’s a knock on the door.

”Ah, that must be our guest,” Shijie says.

It’s Zhao Donghai.

Wei Wuxian wants to groan but he doesn’t because Shijie has her best smile on and Zhao Donghai’s eyes are probably as wide as they can get. He bows low and offers stammering greetings, visibly wildly out of his depth.

”Oh, Young Master Zhao, don’t call me Madam Jiang, that makes me feel so old,” Shijie says as she gently but insistently pushes Zhao Donghai to sit between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian (who, sadly, isn’t on Lan Zhan’s lap because he can actually sit on his own). ”Please, call me Jiang Yanli.”

”I—” Zhao Donghai glances at Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian who both make a ’look-if-she-says-so-you-better-comply’ face and then he swallows. ”Yes, Mada—Jiang Yanli.”

”Excellent!” Shijie says and smiles brightly.

Wei Wuxian feels a bit bad for poor Zhao Donghai. ”So, you were the one who caught Xue Yang and Su Minshan?” He asks as Shijie serves food and pours them tea. ”How did you manage that?”

Zhao Donghai hesitates a moment and his eyes flicker to Lan Zhan who is in the process of placing braised pork and vegetables into Wei Wuxian’s bowl.

”Ah,” Wei Wuxian says. ”It’s okay. This is a Jiang dinner, so we can talk freely. Lan Zhan doesn’t mind.”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says as he pours an adequate amount of chili oil on top of Wei Wuxian’s portion and moves the bowl in front of him before picking up his own food.

”Oh. Well.” Zhao Donghai frowns for a moment, gathering his thoughts. ”I have copies of my detailed reports prepared for all major sect leaders but if you want my verbal report, I’m more than happy to provide it.”

”Aiyah, forget about the report,” Wei Wuxian says as he inhales the delicious scents that remind him of sunny days in the Lotus Pier. ”I’m more interested in how you found them in the first place.”

”Please don’t forget about the report,” Jiang Cheng interjects dryly. ”Some of us actually appreciate properly written accounts.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort but closes it with a snap when Shijie raises a brow and concentrates on his food instead. It’s delicious, of course, because it’s Shijie’s cooking.

As they eat, Shijie keeps up a light conversation, asking after Zhao Donghai’s parents and how Storm Peak has been lately. She includes Jiang Cheng with a mention of a waterborne yao, and then Wei Wuxian jumps in with an idea to modify a binding talisman so that it would work better underwater. When he pauses sometime later to have a sip of tea, Shijie is eating her dinner with a contented smile.

When they’re done and there’s a pot of freshly made tea, Zhao Donghai clears his throat. ”To answer your question from earlier, Young Master Wei,” he says and meets his eyes. ”Ever since the decimation of Tingshan He, I’ve been on alert. Something about it wasn’t right and I was afraid there would be more.” He sighs. ”Unfortunately, I was right. Only two weeks after Tingshan He, I heard rumors of a whole village gone blind and after that, of another village that had a sudden influx of people falling into a coma.”

Wei Wuxian stiffens and glances at Lan Zhan who looks back at him with stormy eyes.

”At first, I thought the latter was a curse and investigated accordingly. But nothing made sense: there were no resentful ghosts, no sudden deaths, nothing that would explain what had happened. The only thing the victims had in common was that they’d all eaten candies a traveling salesman had sold.”

”Candies?” Wei Wuxian asks. ”Did you happen to see any of them?”

”Even better,” Zhao Donghai says. ”I found one. I brought it with me and handed it over to Doctor Wen.”

Wei Wuxian nods, relieved. He should probably tell Huaisang to take a look—later when he’s feeling more like himself again.

”All my detailed findings are in my report but in the end, I managed to track down the salesman.” He frowns. ”At first, it seemed like there were several of them but turned out he was using a transportation talisman to move around.”

”Really?” Wei Wuxian asks. ”How did you track it?”

”It was—” Zhao Donghai blushes. ”Ah. He was sloppy. And then I thought about the tracking talisman you had used when you visited Storm Peak all those years ago and wondered if I could use that. So I…did.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. ”You modified my tracking talisman?”

Zhao Donghai is fully red now. ”Um. Yes?”

”That’s amazing!” He exclaims. ”You have to show me how!”

”Later,” Jiang Cheng says. ”I assume the talisman took you to Su Minshan?”

Zhao Donghai nods. ”Yes. After that, it was just a matter of time to find Xue Yang.”

”And then you captured him?” Shijie asks even though it sounds more like a statement than a question.

”Oh, no. That wasn’t me. We met a group of Nie cultivators who had apparently also been trying to find them. They were the ones who herded Xue Yang and Su Minshan to an array that sealed their cultivation and knocked them out. I could’ve never been able to do that with the handful of disciples I had with me.”

”That sounds like a very effective array,” Shijie comments. 

Zhao Donghai blushes again. ”Another adaptation of Young Master Wei’s designs,” he mumbles, ducking his head slightly. 

”Nevertheless,” Shijie says. ”It sounds like you have the determination and a mind capable to adapt to different situations and resources on top of the ability to work with people who aren’t from your own sect. Admirable traits in anyone, let alone in a sect heir.” 

Zhao Donghai looks like he doesn’t know whether to cry or beam which in Wei Wuxian’s mind is a pretty accurate reaction to Shijie’s full approving smile. ”Thank you, Madam Jiang,” he stammers. ”Apologies, I mean, Jiang Yanli.”

She waves the apology away. ”Pardon my straightforwardness but how old are you?”

”I turned nineteen two weeks ago,” Zhao Donghai says.

”So young and already so accomplished! Your parents and your whole sect must be very proud of you.”

Now the poor Zhao heir just looks like he wants to melt into an embarrassed puddle. ”Thank you but I was just doing my duty. I’m sure anyone would’ve done the same.”

”Of course,” Shijie says in a gentle tone that clearly tells she doesn’t agree. Then she takes pity on the young alpha and turns her attention to Lan Zhan. 

Wei Wuxian shares a Look with Jiang Cheng. 

A short while later, when Zhao Donghai excuses himself, he pauses and then asks, ”If I may, why did you invite me here? Not that I didn’t enjoy myself immensely,” he hurries to add, ”But—frankly, this seemed like a family dinner.” And I’m not family, is left unsaid but heard loud and clear.

Wei Wuxian is just as curious and turns a raised brow at Shijie who merely smiles a small, serene smile.

”I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Zhao Donghai, and I wanted the chance to talk to you properly,” she says. 

”Oh,” Zhao Donghai says.

”Would you join me for tea tomorrow afternoon?” She continues. ”I would love to hear more about Storm Peak before I return to Yunmeng.”

”Yes, of course. I’d be honored,” Zhao Donghai stammers. ”Thank you for the invitation. And the dinner. And the talk. And. Yes. Thank you.”

And then he, well, flees.

”What are you planning, A-jie?” Jiang Cheng asks accusingly. ”Now he’s terrified.”

”Please tell me it has nothing to do with the me-lookalike?” Wei Wuxian pleads.

Shijie’s smile gets brighter. It’s terrifying.

Xue Yang and Su Minshan are kept under close observation in a secluded guest house during the next couple of days. Su Minshan regains his consciousness a day after Xue Yang’s interrogation and expresses his very vocal objections to his imprisonment and Xue Yang’s condition. His guards summon Lan Qiren who gives him one, disgusted look, slaps a muting spell on him, and adds another, stronger seal on his cultivation.

Wen Qing sees Xue Yang every morning to take his vitals and check his meridians even though Wei Wuxian isn’t sure why because they’re irrevocably destroyed. She does all this with a pinched look and writes her observations in a small notebook she then tucks into a hidden pocket in her robes. When asked when he’ll wake up, she merely shrugs.

”That depends on how thoroughly his mind has been shredded,” she says bluntly. ”And I cannot determine anything of his mental state before he wakes up.”

As he promised, Xiao Xingchen takes responsibility for Xue Yang with the reluctant approval of his cultivation partner. To Wei Wuxian, the whole triangle between them seems frankly creepy as fuck but he also decides it’s none of his business. Xingchen-ge made it clear that as soon as Xue Yang wakes up, they’ll leave the Cloud Recesses. He doesn’t say where but promises to keep in touch which is pretty much the only thing Wei Wuxian cares about.

A-Qing blatantly refuses to go anywhere near Xue Yang, unconscious or not. 

”He’s a fucking monster and I don’t care if he’s an invalid now, he’s still a fucking monster!” She yells at Xiao Xingchen’s face outside the library one day. ”You and Zizhen-ge are out of your fucking minds if you think I’ll go anywhere with him!”

Xiao Xingchen sighs. ”A-Qing—”

”NO! I’d rather move in with Sect Leader Jiang!”

Jiang Cheng, drawn to the yelling, blinks and snaps, ”Mark your words, kid. I take that as a promise.”

”You should!”

”Good! We head out as soon as that thing,” he jerks his head toward Xue Yang’s room, ”wakes up.”

A-Qing narrows her eyes. ”Fine!”

”Fine!” Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw and stalks away without looking back.

Wei Wuxian is so glad he decided to need stuff from the library today. This is awesome!

(Later that day, A-Qing wanders to the Jingshi and sits on the porch, hugging her knees against her chest.

”Do you think he was serious?” She asks in a small voice

”Jiang Cheng? Yes,” Wei Wuxian says. He carefully makes his way to A-Qing and sits down with only minimum effort, and tucks her under his arm. ”He likes to yell at people and he has a terrible temper but he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t mean it. I think you’ll be good to each other.”

”But…what if he doesn’t like me?”

”Okay. Look. Are you going to love everything about Lotus Pier? Obviously not. Just because Jiang Cheng promised to take you in doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like a princess.” Wei Wuxian huffs. ”Actually, you should expect to start from the bottom: washing the piers, peeling vegetables, cleaning the stables, emptying chamber pots, and so on.” He boops A-Qing on the nose when she scrunches her face. ”That’s how Lotus Pier works: it doesn’t matter whether you’re a servant or the sect leader, no one is too good for doing a job that needs to be done. That’s why the Yunmeng people like the Jiang so much.”

”Huh. So if I work hard, he’ll…like me?” The end of the sentence is so quiet Wei Wuxian almost doesn’t hear it. 

”Silly child,” he says and hugs her closer. ”He already likes you because you’re a shit-stirrer. He has no patience for people who cower in front of him.”

”I didn’t think he has any patience,” A-Qing mutters.

Wei Wuxian chuckles. Ah, Chengcheng and his new heir will be just fine.)

Huaisang writes out a comprehensive list of everything he saw in Xue Yang’s head, hands it to Lan Qiren, and then walks out without a word. He still looks brittle like cracked porcelain but his eyes aren’t empty anymore. From the corner of his eye, Wei Wuxian sees Xiao Xingchen follow him and he nods to himself. Those two will have a disturbingly lot to talk about and he’s glad he doesn’t have to be there for it.

Instead, he makes his way to Meng Yao who has been keeping away from all the action and has chosen to immerse himself in paperwork. He seems to be enjoying himself immensely which Wei Wuxian thinks is absolutely crazy.

”So,” he says and levers himself on the chair on the other side of Meng Yao’s desk. He managed to walk from the door all by himself! More progress!

Meng Yao glances up from his paperwork and raises a brow. He has very expressive brows, Wei Wuxian is almost jealous. ”Did you want something?” He asks.

He casts his gaze up like he’s praying for the Heavens. ”I wouldn’t be opposed to an actually functioning body but I’ll settle for a situation report for now,” he quips.

”On what?”

”The state of the world, of course! What else?”

There’s a small smile playing on the corner of Meng Yao’s mouth. He’s sure of it. 

With a flick of his fingers, Meng Yao activates an additional privacy talisman and says, ”I’ve been comparing Young Master Zhao’s report with Xue Xiurong’s journal, Huaisang’s notes, and the Lan registry. The results are…disheartening.”

”Well. That sucks.”

”Mn. I think I need to have a word with some of my contacts to figure out how to approach other sects with this. It’ll be interesting, to say the least.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. ”You have a worrying sense of fun,” he says.

”I could say the same,” Meng Yao counters calmly.

There’s a knock on the door and Meng Yao disables the privacy talisman before calling out, ”Yes?”

A young woman in Lan guest disciple robes walks in holding a tray with a teapot and a cup. ”Here’s your afternoon tea, Yao-ge,” she says, and only then seems to notice Wei Wuxian and her eyes go slightly wide. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had a guest.”

Meng Yao gives Wei Wuxian a sharp look. ”Wei Wuxian, meet Maiden Qin. Maiden Qin, this is Wei Wuxian, Wangji’s mate.”

Maiden Qin bows and offers him a small smile when he clumsily bows back without getting up. He knows it’s rude but he hopes she knows his body isn’t in a stellar condition just yet.

Wait.

Yao-ge.

That smile.

He tilts his head and looks at Meng Yao who has his unreadable mask on. 

”A pleasure,” Maiden Qin murmurs. ”I’m afraid I have errands to run.”

Wei Wuxian hums distractedly without taking his eyes off Meng Yao.

”Something on my face?” Meng Yao asks.

”Just…your features.”

”I certainly would hope so,” Meng Yao says pleasantly. ”It would be unfortunate if my face didn’t have its features. Was there something else?” There’s an edge to his voice that warns him to drop the issue so Wei Wuxian does.

”No,” he says, wondering if Jin Zixuan knows that he has not one but three half-siblings currently residing in the Cloud Recesses. ”Anything I can do to help?”

”Stay out of trouble.”

He gasps and presses a hand on his chest. ”Rude! I’ve been trying to stay out of trouble but the trouble comes to me! It’s not my fault I’m irresistible!”

Meng Yao rolls his eyes but lets his lips draw into a smirk.

Ah, well. Wei Wuxian levers himself carefully up and is unreasonably proud when his legs don’t fold right away. ”A-Yao? Remember to take a break every now and then, okay?” He says softly, letting his eyes drop to Meng Yao’s stomach.

”I will,” Meng Yao says just as softly. ”Thank you, A-Xian.”

Wei Wuxian gets an unpleasant reminder of the outside world when Xichen comes by to hand him a letter with a carefully neutral look on his face.

”Why do you look like that?” He asks. ”Do I want to read this?”  When Xichen doesn’t comment, he sighs and takes it, opens it gingerly, and then reads it. 

Obviously, it’s a mistake.

”You’re kidding,” he says flatly, reads the letter again, and sighs again, deeper this time. ”You’re not kidding,” he mutters. ”Why are you not kidding?”

”Despite his,” Xichen hesitates for a moment, ”eccentrics, Sect Leader Yao is one of the few senior sect leaders we have left from the previous generation. He’s always had a keen nose for politics so I do believe he’s sincere in his congratulations.” A pause. ”Mostly sincere,” he then amends.

”A keen nose as in he always knows who to suck up, eh?” Wei Wuxian says and glares at the overly flowery congratulations on his and Lan Zhan’s upcoming marriage. ”Please tell me we don’t have to invite him?”

Xichen’s expression stays completely pleasant. ”Lying is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” he says.

Wei Wuxian grumbles. ”You could learn to bend the rules a bit, you know."

Xichen hums with a serene smile. ”I think I’ll leave that to you and A-Yao. You’re so much better at it anyway.”

”Has anyone ever told you what a horrid man you are, Xichen-ge?”

If anything, Xichen’s smile gets even more beatific. ”I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a groan and turns around to stomp (extremely carefully) inside. He wants Lan Zhan and he wants to slump against Lan Zhan’s chest and whine about the devastating fact of having Sect Leader Yao anywhere near their wedding ceremony. 

Xichen, the absolutely terrible sect leader and brother-in-law that he is, just laughs softly at him. 

Both Huaisang and Wei Wuxian decline to be present for Xue Yang’s post-maiming interrogation. Or, more like Huaisang flatly refuses and as Wei Wuxian has no great interest in being there, he chooses to be with Huaisang instead. 

So, when a disciple comes by in the morning to inform them that Xue Yang is finally awake, Lan Zhan thanks them and asks them to tell Xichen that he’ll be with him in a moment. He kisses Wei Wuxian with enough intent to make him slightly breathless (he’s still not cleared for more extraneous activities, much to his disappointment), and then calmly makes himself presentable as they wait for Huaisang.

”There will be a written summary later,” he says. ”In case either of you would want to read it.”

Wei Wuxian purses his lips. ”If he’s still all evil and deranged, I don’t think I want to?”

”Mn,” Lan Zhan says.

Huaisang arrives with A-Qing in tow which, yeah, Wei Wuxian understands. Jiang Cheng would want to be present anyway and A-Qing looks freaked out enough even by the knowledge that the monster from her nightmares is awake. Huaisang spreads out a selection of beautifully crafted, blank fans and tells A-Qing to choose which one she wants to paint and then they concentrate on their work. For all Wei Wuxian knows, Huaisang might be teaching A-Qing to paint dirty pictures that move when the fan is opened and closed. Actually, he hopes that’s what they’re doing. That would be an awesome surprise for Jiang Cheng.

He watches them for some time before he shakes his head a bit and digs up his notebooks and some talisman paper. He has so many designs rolling around his head, so many half-entertained ideas he didn’t have the chance to experiment on before the whole thing with Lan Deming went down, and so many things he’s sort of promised to look into since, uh, Nightless City? Huaisang’s reaction to the possible threat to his sect was sort of a rude awakening and frankly, he feels guilty. He promised Nie Mingjue he’d look into it and then he…didn’t? (A voice in the back of his head that sounds very much like Shijie reminds him that he was also recovering from an extremely traumatic injury and then kidnapped and poisoned, he doesn’t exactly need to feel that guilty.) 

It takes him no time at all to immerse himself in his work, only surfacing when someone (Huaisang? Lan Bolin?) pushes a cup into his hand or nudges him to move slightly to avoid a full-body spasm. He’s dividing his designs into three stacks; one for defensive and protective, one for offensive, and one for miscellaneous designs like the one that makes draughty windows sound like haunting flute music that he wrote down simply because it crossed his mind. Lan Qiren would probably huff himself dizzy if he saw it.

It’s almost dinnertime when Lan Zhan returns with Jiang Cheng, both carrying a tray laden with food, and both with identical expressions of exhaustion on their faces (although most people would say Lan Zhan looks just like he always does). Huaisang excuses himself on the pretense that he has letters to write, but Wei Wuxian needles him until he promises to stop by in the morning.

”I thought you’d left,” A-Qing blurts at Jiang Cheng and then snaps her mouth shut and scowls at her lap.

Jiang Cheng huffs. ”And leave you here? I told you you’re coming with me so don’t even try to weasel out of it.” He raises a brow at the fans on the table. ”Make some room.”

A-Qing gathers up the fans, snapping the already dried ones closed, and, after looking at Wei Wuxian, spreads the still-damp ones where he points. She has one fan, a gorgeous dark purple one with a dark wood frame she fiddles with before shoving it at Jiang Cheng. He puts the tray on the table and takes the fan, scrutinizes it from both sides, and opens and closes it a couple of times before snapping it shut.

”Who taught you to paint like this?” He asks even though the answer is glaringly obvious. When A-Qing bites her lip and admits it was Huaisang, Jiang Cheng sighs. ”He should know what is and what isn’t anatomically possible.”

”If you don’t like it, give it back,” A-Qing mutters.

”Who told you I didn’t like it?” Jiang Cheng snaps and hangs the fan carefully on his belt. ”You gave it to me and I’m not giving it back. Now, shut up and eat.”

Wei Wuxian grins so wide it almost hurts and shoves a bun into his mouth to keep himself from cooing. They’re perfect for each other! He can’t wait to see A-Qing in proper purple Jiang robes, strolling around Lotus Pier like she owned it.

Lan Zhan glances at him from the corner of his eye and raises a brow at Wei Wuxian’s possibly slightly unhinged expression. He shakes his head and reaches out to brush a strand of hair from Lan Zhan’s cheek. The gesture makes his alpha’s ears blush which honestly never ceases to amaze him.

”Stop that, you have company,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.

Wei Wuxian removes the bun to stick his tongue out and then digs in. 

He’s actually pretty hungry.

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan leave with Xue Yang and Su Minshan so early the next morning that the Cloud Recesses is only waking up. Lan Qiren is the one to see them out and Wei Wuxian doesn’t ask where they’re going. He already met with his shixiong the previous night and exchanged messaging talismans that would find them no matter where they are, and that’s enough for him. 

Jiang Cheng leaves with A-Qing after lunch. He’s gruff and scowly as usual but it’s obvious how he makes sure A-Qing is as comfortable as possible and holds on to her tightly as they slowly rise to the sky. 

(”Do you want me to write a letter to old Teacher Yu?” Wei Wuxian asked before they left.

”Might as well,” was the reply. ”You’re closer to her anyway. And you’re more familiar with the little menace.”

”Aww, my didi loves his new daughter!” He cooed, cackling when Jiang Cheng tried to shove him.

”Who’s your didi?” He barked. ”And he’s not my daughter.”

”Mn…not yet anyway.”

Jiang Cheng huffed but there was a thoughtful look in his eyes when he watched A-Qing say her goodbyes to A-Yuan.)

Huaisang stays for a couple of days. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure what happened between him and Lan Qiren but something happened because they now take slow walks together and they stop to talk every now and then. Perhaps Huaisang’s full account of what he’d seen in Xue Yang’s head made the old man realize not everything is as black and white as his precious rules dictate.

And then it’s just them again. Wei Wuxian with his Lan Zhan and A-Yuan, piecing their lives together as he continues to recover (again? Still? What’s the difference at this point, anyway?). Xichen and A-Yao meticulously combing through the sect records and collaborating with their other contacts to make the world a safer, stabler place. Lan Qiren with a new, troubled frown on his face as he reconstructs the lesson plans. Wen Qing and Wen Ning building a new life for themselves as the medical miracle duo (she detests the name and snaps at Wei Wuxian if he uses it but he knows she’s having the time of her life).

”Lan Zhan, do you think this is it now?” He asks one night when he regains his ability to speak after Lan Zhan made a mess of him with his fingers and mouth. (He’s infuriatingly careful and refuses to do more before Wei Wuxian is fully in control of his body again. It’s terrible. His alpha is so cruel!)

”Mn. I certainly hope so,” Lan Zhan says as he draws idle patterns on his stomach. 

The feathery-light touch makes him shiver which leads to the disappointment of Lan Zhan drawing a blanket over them. 

”What’s going to happen next?” He wonders and yawns.

”Sleep,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Wuxian snorts. ”You know what I mean,” he mumbles against his alpha’s chest without much heat. Lan Zhan’s answering hum resonates through his chest and makes him feel warm.

Yeah.

Sleep sounds good now.

When Lan Wangji opens his eyes, his internal clock tells him it’s not yet time to get up. And even if it was, he  has no intention to get up.

Today, he has no sect duties to take care of. No interrogations, no tedious yet necessary paperwork, no depressing revelations of how deep the corruption in his home had seeped.

No.

Today, Lan Wangji’s only duty lies in his arms, breathing softly.

Wei Ying is sleeping peacefully for once, his brow smooth and lips lightly pursed. He’s beautiful as always, but even more breathtaking now that Lan Wangji finally knows he’s been purged from the last vestiges of the poison forced on him. He’s still fragile, still recovering, but he can walk and move and talk.

He’s certain he’ll never be tired of hearing Wei Ying’s voice.

To think he once thought Wei Ying was insufferable! To think he once wished Wei Ying would never talk to him! How utterly foolish he’d been. Only after being robbed of Wei Ying not once, not twice, but thrice, has he learned to appreciate the treasure he’s been granted.

Wei Ying makes a soft noise in his sleep and rubs his nose on Lan Wangji’s collarbone, then goes pliant again as whatever disturbed his sleep fades away. Lan Wangji moves his other hand—the other secured around Wei Ying’s waist to keep him close—and trails his fingers along Wei Ying’s side. He’s warm in the hush cocoon of their bed, and he smells like contentment.

”Mm…tickles…” Wei Ying murmurs and snuggles closer. He’s wearing Lan Wangji’s robe that’s slipped down his shoulder and a tantalizing slip of skin is visible where the robe has opened at the chest. Lan Wangji hums and strokes the warm skin, smiling slightly as his touch leaves a trail of goosebumps behind. Wei Ying shivers and grumbles something under his breath, then shifts his leg over Lan Wangji’s and sighs.

Lan Wangji loves all of this. The way Wei Ying fits just right against him, how his whole body bends against Lan Wangji and makes a home on his skin like he belongs there because he does. The Wei Ying-shaped space in his life is now gloriously filled and right and he never wants to feel the absence again.

Through his palm, he can feel Wei Ying’s chest rise and fall and the steady beating of his heart. He turns slightly to his side so that they are chest to chest and Wei Ying’s leg slips in between his. It’s a delicious pressure and he hums with pleasure. It would be so easy to let himself grow fully hard, to turn Wei Ying and slide into his welcoming heat—Wei Ying has given his permission in the past—but he pushes his own desire to the back of his mind. This is a new situation, this fragility after—after the poison. There will come a day when he’ll use his mate’s sleeping body for his own pleasure but that day isn’t today.

”Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying sighs against his throat. His breath is warm and tickles his skin, and Lan Wangji lets out a pleased sound. He lets his hand wander, slip under the robe and against the sleep-warm skin, down the knobs of Wei Ying’s spine and the sharp crest of his hip. He’s still so thin it makes Lan Wangji’s heart hurt but with Wen Qing’s supervision and the head cook’s determination, he should regain the weight he’s lost. (Lan Chuntao is deeply invested in Wei Ying’s appetite. Lan Wangji is slightly baffled but fully supports the head cook’s mission to feed Wei Ying.)

Under his palm, Wei Ying’s behind is soft and round and fits his hand perfectly—he knows this from experience. Now, Lan Wangji cups it while rubbing the skin with his thumb, and lets his fourth and fifth finger press against the cleft and Wei Ying’s hole.

And pauses.

Wei Ying is slightly wet. 

Hm.

Wei Ying lets out a small, discontented sound that melts away when Lan Wangji slowly continues with the gentle petting. He sighs and grinds sleepily against Lan Wangji’s thigh, hitching his leg up a bit. It gives Lan Wangji better access to where his fingers are tracing the furl of Wei Ying’s entrance, getting gradually wetter with slick. He lets his fingers slide further, to the smoothness right behind Wei Ying’s testicles. The skin is feather-soft there and if he concentrates, he’s sure he can feel Wei Ying’s pulse through the skin. He presses down lightly and smiles when Wei Ying lets out a small, needy whine. 

His mate is so sensitive and Lan Wangji can’t get enough of him.

Wei Ying’s slick smooths the way back to his hole, soft and yielding as it opens beautifully under Lan Wangji’s fingers. The inside is as warm and silky as always, a marvel that never quite ceases to make him speechless with wonder—that Wei Ying has this space inside of him, this soft, secret place that only welcomes Lan Wangji; this well of delight Lan Wangji helplessly seeks again and again. 

That this is his makes him humble.

And it makes him greedy.

Slowly, he pushes his fingers in and massages the rippling walls, eagerly drinking up the small gasps Wei Ying makes. He withdraws and pushes back in, pressing unerringly against the spot he knows will make Wei Ying see stars. His mate rewards him with a tremble and a sleepy whine, and his scent blooms with sleepy pleasure. He’s hard against Lan Wangji’s thigh—just like Lan Wangji is hard against him—making a delicious mess on his sleep robes. He’s exquisite and Lan Wangji would love nothing more but to keep him here forever, tethered and aroused in his hands.

For a moment, he considers it. He could but he’s not sure he should—Wei Ying might not be up to it yet. 

Deciding against hours of pleasure on the edge, Lan Wangji locks his mate in place with the arm around his waist and picks up a steady rhythm. Not much is needed as Wei Ying is so very sensitive, and after only a short moment, he starts to pant, and Lan Wangji pushes down with his fingers inside Wei Ying, presses his thumb against his perineum, and floods his mate with the full force of his scent.

The reaction is nearly instantaneous: Wei Ying’s breath hitches as a tremor runs through him and he comes into his robes. Lan Wangji drinks up the smell of his helpless pleasure and release, humming with deep satisfaction as Wei Ying’s channel contracts rhythmically around his fingers. 

A moment later, Wei Ying’s eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure. ”…you,” he manages.

”Good morning,” Lan Wangji whispers and smiles at his mate’s blissed-out state.

He’s at his desk when there’s a soft knock on the door. As A-Yuan is with Wen Qing and Wen Qionglin, the only one who might want to disturb them is Brother.

”Good morning, Wangji,” Brother says with a small smile as his nose flares slightly. It’s instinctual but he does it more now that Meng Yao is with child. ”Is Wuxian still asleep?” 

”Mn,” Lan Wangji replies and refuses to blush at the small quirk of a brow. Brother is a mated alpha with by-now-visible proof of intimate relations with his mate—the lingering scent of Wei Ying’s pleasure in the Jingshi shouldn’t be that amusing.

He turns to make tea, choosing Brother’s favorite by old habit. They used to do this before the world turned upside down, and the familiar routine grounds him. Much has happened and much is yet to happen, and Lan Wangji cherishes these small moments of peace and companionship they share.

”How is Meng Yao?” He asks as the tea seeps.

Brother smiles. ”He’s doing well. Slightly nauseous in the mornings but otherwise no complications. Please, send my regards to Jiang Yanli when you write to her. Her recommended incense blend has helped A-Yao sleep better.” 

”I will,” he says. Brother sounds and looks happy. Lan Wangji is glad. ”And Uncle?”

Brother’s lip twitches. ”Increasingly irritable on the outside but…frankly, I have a feeling he’s enjoying the reformation process.”

”Mn.”

He pours tea and they drink. The silence is familiar and welcome, something he’s always enjoyed with Brother.

”When Wuxian feels ready, I’d like his opinion on disciplinary matters,” Brother says after their third cup. ”There’s no hurry, he can take his time.”

Ah. The matter of Lan Deming’s fate is still undecided, as is the fate of so many others who have been tangled up with Xue Yang’s atrocities—either fully knowing what they were doing or blissfully ignorant, thinking they did what was best for the sect. He’s unabashedly relieved he doesn’t have to deal with any of them.

”A-Yao is coordinating the wider clean-up with Huaisang, Jiang Yanli, and Young Master Zhao. According to him, it’s going ’as well as expected’.”

He raises a brow and Brother shrugs. Meng Yao’s mind is a complicated, million-faceted thing that enjoys settling things to their proper places. Wei Ying has often expressed his utter confusion about what Meng Yao considers enjoyable. Lan Wangji believes the feeling is mutual.

Speaking of Young Master Zhao… ”Jiang Yanli believes Zhao Donghai would be a good match to Mo Xuanyu,” he says. 

Brother nods. ”I know. She talked about it with A-Yao and Madam Mo. With Madam Mo’s permission, Gusu Lan will stand in as his sect during the negotiations.”

”Mn. Young Master Zhao is courageous and intelligent,” he says. ”Wei Ying approves.”

”From Wuxian, that is high praise indeed,” Brother says with a smile that crinkles his eyes. ”A-Yao also suggested that when Wuxian feels better, you might be willing to consider escorting Xuanyu to Storm Peak.” 

Lan Wangji inclines his head. He’s been planning on visiting ever since Wei Ying mentioned the ”weird tea” he was offered. Escorting Mo Xuanyu will be no hardship.

After they finish their tea, Brother clears his throat. ”Wangji…both A-Yao and I would be honored if you would pick our child’s courtesy name.”

He blinks. ”Are you sure? I thought…perhaps Uncle…”

Brother shakes his head. ”If we’re blessed with another child, perhaps then. But this one—it would mean a lot to us both.”

”Of course,” he says, feeling a pool of glowing happiness gather in his chest. ”I will strive to find a name that will fit perfectly.”

”I know you will,” Brother says warmly.

A thump and a string of grumbled swearwords alert him that Wei Ying is awake. Brother ducks his head to hide a smile as Lan Wangji excuses himself to help his mate.

”I should probably—” Brother starts, only to be interrupted by Wei Ying’s, ”No no no, don’t leave yet, Xichen-ge! I want to know how A-Yao is doing!”

Lan Wangji stifles a sigh at Wei Ying’s state. His robe is completely open and his hair mostly undone and he has an imprint of a pillow on his cheek. He’s stunning, even with drooping eyes and morning breath.

”He’s well,” Brother calls. ”Your sister’s advice has been helpful indeed.”

”That’s because shijie is the best,” Wei Ying yells right at Lan Wangji’s face. ”And how are you holding up, Xichen-ge?”

Lan Wangji raises a brow and bundles Wei Ying into another robe and ties the sash properly before combing out his hair.

”I—”

His hands still. Brother sounds uncertain and that’s—why is he hesitant? Wei Ying quirks a smile, pecks at the corner of his mouth, and then makes his way to the sitting area.

”I know most of the fuss is about A-Yao now, which is natural,” Wei Ying says as he carefully sits down on the small bench Lan Wangji ordered just for him. ”But this is a new thing to you, too.”

Once more, Lan Wangji is struck by Wei Ying’s insight. Just a couple of words, and Brother is visibly at a loss, trying to put to words this new situation he’s in. He turns to make a new pot of tea, giving Brother a moment to gather his thoughts.

”I—” Brother starts and then lets out a small huff of breath. ”I’m not sure why I’m nervous. Isn’t being a parent one of the most natural things in the world?”

Wei Ying shrugs. ”Sure it is. But considering the way you and Lan Zhan grew up, it’s no wonder you’re nervous. I’m sure your uncle tried his best but, honestly? He isn’t the most nurturing and warm person.”

”Uncle never meant us any harm,” Brother protests.

”Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. Just—how many times has he hugged you?”

”Are hugs necessary for children?” Brother asks, genuinely curious.

”Usually? I think?” Wei Ying says. ”Shijie hugged me a lot when I was a kid. And A-Yuan likes to hug everyone.”

”Hm,” Brother says and absent-mindedly picks up his teacup before realizing it’s empty.

Lan Wangji fills their cups and sits next to Wei Ying. ”A-Yuan is very open in his affections,” he points out.

”He is,” Wei Ying agrees with a wide smile. ”But honestly, Xichen-ge, I think being nervous about parenting is normal! I know I am, and A-Yuan isn’t even yet officially ours!”

Lan Wangji frowns. ”What are you nervous about?”

”What do you mean what?” Wei Ying asks, incredulous. ”Everything! I’m irresponsible and impulsive and never think things through. And I’m loud! And I have no manners!”

”Says who?” Lan Wangji asks.

”Aiyah, put your glare away,” Wei Ying huffs. ”I know I’m—”

”You are not,” he says pointedly. ”You are caring. Loving. Inventive. Curious.” He gives Wei Ying an assessing look, inwardly smug when with every praise, the flush on his mate’s cheeks rises higher and higher until he covers his face with his hands.

”Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying hisses.

”Mn,” he says and drinks his tea.

”…hugs,” Brother says quietly. There’s still something troubled in his eyes but Lan Wangji isn’t sure how to erase it.

”Assumed the baby likes hugs,” Wei Ying adds. ”Not everyone does, and that’s totally fine. A-Yao doesn’t usually like hugs from anyone but you, Xichen-ge.”

Brother nods.

”Ah, no. Now I’ve made you anxious,” Wei Ying laments. ”That wasn’t my intention.” He sighs and leans carefully forward. ”Xichen-ge. Look. Will you be perfect? Obviously not. No one will be a perfect parent, except for perhaps shijie but she doesn’t count anyway, so who cares. What I mean is that—” He huffs. ”If they are allowed smile and laugh and cry and you make sure to be there for them through it all… Most of your rules are shit but some of them have a point. To some degree. Maybe. Perhaps.”

”Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Ying grins at him before turning back to Brother. ”You remember your mother, right? Think about how you felt with her and try to make it so that your child feels that with you. That’s what I try to do with A-Yuan. There’s not much I can remember but what I do…It’s a sort of warmth. Happiness that was like a blanket around me.” He tilts his head and his eyes go slightly vacant as he recalls his parents, and the contented scent that leaks out of him tells Lan Wangji more than anything Wei Ying says aloud.

Brother clears his throat, stands up, and bows to Wei Ying who lets out a small, embarrassed squeak. ”Thank you, Wuxian. You have, again, given me a lot to think about.”

After Brother leaves, Lan Wangji gives Wei Ying a fond look.

”What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Wei Ying demands. ”Stop it, Lan Zhan! You insufferable man!”

Lan Wangji does not, in fact, stop.

Wei Ying’s mention of the adoption not yet being official prompts Lan Wangji to act. It’s mostly paperwork as the Sect Elders will not dare stand in their way and Wen Qing has already agreed. A-Yuan’s name, Wei Yuan, right under Wei Ying’s name makes the possessiveness in his belly flare with fierce satisfaction. He wonders if Wei Ying would be amenable to another child—not yet, but at some point in the future. The thought of his mate surrounded by a gaggle of children satisfies in him a deep need he didn’t even realize he was harboring.

Yes.

He will ask Wei Ying later. After they get married.

The mere thought of their upcoming marriage makes Lan Wangji half-heartedly wish they’d eloped. He knows there’s a reason for the official festivities but just like Wei Ying, he really couldn’t care less. Everyone knows they belong together—and even if everyone didn’t know, it would be irrelevant to him. He and Wei Ying know and that is all that matters.

But, as Brother and A-Yao say, it’s sect politics. Also, Wei Ying’s sister is highly invested and, just like Wei Ying, Lan Wangji is willing to endure quite a lot to make Jiang Yanli happy.

He sighs and pushes away the harrying thoughts of entertaining guests as he enters the young disciples’ quarters to pick up A-Yuan. He barely turns the corner when a small weight collides with his legs.

”Hello, A-Yuan,” he says and picks the boy up. ”How was your day?”

”It—”

”Are you A-Yuan’s baba?” A bright voice interrupts. 

Lan Wangji looks down to see a small boy with wide, curious eyes under a crooked forehead ribbon, and a robe with more grass stains than white.

”A-Yi, don’t interrupt!” A-Yuan scolds.

”Sorry!” The boy, A-Yi says, not sounding sorry at all. ”So, are you?”

”No,” La Wangji says. ”That would be Wei Ying.”

”I haven’t seen him.” The child frowns, almost like not meeting Wei Ying is a failure on his part. ”So, you’re A-Yuan’s father.”

It’s not a question and Lan Wangji doesn’t address it as such. ”Yes,” he says. He glances at A-Yuan who’s looking at him with wide, startled eyes. ”Yes,” Lan Wangji repeats, feeling pleased as A-Yuan’s lips draw into a wide smile, and squeezes his small arms tightly around Lan Wangji’s neck.

”Nice to meet you, A-Yuan’s father!” A-Yi says and is clearly about to bow when a harried-looking caretaker rushes to them.

”Lan Yi, don’t bother Hanguang-jun,” he says, shooting an apologetic look at Lan Wangji.

”I was not bothered,” Lan Wangji says. He pauses for a moment, glancing at A-Yuan from the corner of his eye. ”Lan Yi, if your parents don’t object, would you like to visit A-Yuan someday?”

”I have no parents!” A-Yi says with way more cheer than the statement deserves.

”He’s an orphan,” the caretaker murmurs as he takes A-Yi’s hand with the clear intention to drag him away.

”Do not,” Lan Wangji says. ”A-Yi, come with me.”

As the bewildered caretaker stares, Lan Wangji reaches down and picks up A-Yi and, holding a small, sweaty boy with each arm, starts toward the Jingshi.

He never considered children of his own but A-Yuan changed it—changed so many things. He rather enjoys the idea of being a father. And with Wei Ying as the other parent, he enjoys the idea even more.

They already adopted one child.

They might just as well adopt another.

Yes.

Lan Wangji enjoys the idea very much indeed.