Your destination, at that moment, was Qinghe â the direction pointed to by the strange arm now sealed inside a containment talisman.
For ordinary people, the journey would take at least thirty days, maybe more, considering the distance and terrain. But you were cultivators. With enhanced physical endurance, reduced need for sleep, and the occasional ride on carts, the trip could be done in ten to fifteen days â as long as everything went smoothly.
But only three days had passed, and the tranquility was already starting to unravel.
Since leaving Gusu, Mo Xuanyu had been behaving... relatively well. His occasional provocations toward Lan Wangji were met with the same impassive expression as always, and you had come to think the journey would proceed without major incidents.
That thought was destroyed on the second day.
Getting Mo Xuanyu out of bed in the morning had been a real challenge. Curiously, Lan Wangji had reserved only two rooms at the inns: one for you, and the other shared between him and Mo Xuanyu. The conclusion was inevitable â they were sleeping together. Literally. And, from all indications, only that.
Even so, the fact stirred a certain unease. When you entered the room to wake Xuanyu, you found him tightly wrapped in the blanket, like a cocoon. The other blanket, clearly used, was folded with ritualistic precision.
And as if that weren't enough, that same day, Mo Xuanyu tried to run away. Several times.
Each time, he was effortlessly caught by Lan Wangji â who calmly grabbed him by the collar of his robe and brought him back as if retrieving a forgotten bag. Hanguang-Junâs expression didnât even change.
On the third day, you were still on your long journey toward Qinghe.
You left the inn at sunrise and hadnât stopped since â unless, of course, you considered Mo Xuanyuâs escape attempts as strategic breaks.
You were walking ahead, keeping an eye on the terrain, when you felt an arm casually rest on your shoulders. It was Mo Xuanyu, of course.
"Hey, shimei... tell me something," he began, with a mischievous smile. "What's Hanguang-Jun's type?"
"Type?" you repeated, uncertain.
For a moment, you blinked, confused. âTypeâ? What was he even talking about? Music? Food? Sword style? But being a Lan, everything should be austere, quiet, and cultivated...
While your mind stalled at the sudden banality of the question, Mo Xuanyu laughed, giving a few light pats on your back.
"Romantic type," he repeated. "The kind of person heâd be interested in."
"Oh." You frowned. "How would I know that?"
"Women have a good instinct for these things," he said, with a confident nod. "You mustâve noticed something."
"Hanguang-Jun is respected and even admired, but... Iâve never seen him court anyone. Not even talk to someone in a different way."
"Exactly..." Xuanyu sighed dramatically. "And yet, here I am, hopelessly in love. You have to help me!"
"I know you're just joking," you said, giving him a sideways glance. "But honestly? I'm starting to get worried. If you keep repeating it, you're going to end up believing your own lie."
"Nothing. And anyway, I donât think heâs... a cut-sleeve."
Mo Xuanyu sighed again, this time with theatrical weight, placing a hand over his chest as if he were about to faint.
"Aaah, unrequited love is a bitter pain... A heart shattered by Hanguang-Junâs coldness..."
You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a faint smile.
"If you like him that much, why did you try to run away so many times?"
"Exactly because my heart canât take any more rejection!" he exclaimed, spinning on his own feet in an exaggerated fashion, still with his arm resting on you. "If I donât flee, heâll never realize what heâs lost!"
You laughed, gently pushing him aside.
"Right... sounds like theater to me. And you know he doesnât even care. He just grabs you by the collar and drags you back like a sack of rice."
"Ugh, donât say it like that..." he said, pretending to be offended. "I prefer to think of it as a gesture of affection. A... Lan way of showing love."
You let out a quiet laugh.
He rolled his eyes, but smiled back. Silence returned for a few moments. Only the sound of wind through the leaves, rhythmic footsteps, and the hooves of horses up ahead filled the path.
Then, suddenly, he turned to you again.
"And what about your type?"
You paused for a moment, surprised.
"Your type," he repeated, now walking backward to watch your reaction. "Since you say Hanguang-Jun isnât a cut-sleeve and heâs not your type either... then what is?"
"I didnât say heâs not my type," you replied automatically, before even realizing what youâd said.
Mo Xuanyu threw his hands into the air, triumphant.
"AH-HA! I knew it! I knew you noticed! Youâve got your eye on him!"
"I do not have my eye on anyone!" you shot back, feeling heat rise to your ears. "And stop yelling! Heâll hear you!"
"So what?" he shrugged, with a crooked smile. "Maybe then heâll notice."
You huffed, looking away.
"Stop with those jokes. Thatâs disrespectful... and besides, I donât have time for that kind of thing. Even if I wanted to."
"You ask too many questions sometimes..." you sighed, looking away. "I just... donât have time for it."
And it was true. Or at least, it was what you needed to believe.
You couldnât allow yourself that kind of distraction. Liking someone implied vulnerability, sincerity... and you couldnât tell the truth. You couldnât explain who you were, where you came from, or what you carried with you.
Lan Wangji might have known a few things â crumbs of information that, in isolation, meant nothing. And he, being who he is, never asked more than he should. Thatâs why it was bearable. Thatâs why it was safe.
But there was no room for more than that.
You were there to cultivate, to learn, to grow. And in the end, you would have to return to your world â your home, your reality. A place where the rules were different, and where promises made here might not be kept.
You couldnât get attached.
"Mhm... you kind of didnât answer my question," said Mo Xuanyu, squinting at you.
"I donât know, Young Master Mo," you replied, with a tired smile. "I guess Iâve never really thought about it."
"Never thought about it?" He raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Yeah. Never had the time, never saw the point." You shrugged. "Besides... Iâve never liked anyone. Romantically, I mean. I can think someone is attractive, admirable... but truly liking someone? That kind of feeling always seemed... distant. Almost impossible."
Mo Xuanyu didnât reply immediately. The teasing smile faded, replaced by an oddly calm expression.
"That explains a lot," he murmured, kicking a small rock on the path.
You glanced at him sideways, intrigued.
"The way youâre here... but not entirely. Like somethingâs always pulling you somewhere else."
You looked away, and silence grew between you.
"That has nothing to do with it."
"Mo Xuanyu, youâre insane. Nothing you say is true."
"So now youâre going to treat me as Mo Xuanyu?"
"Of course. Because thatâs what you are."
"You only accept certain facts when theyâre convenient for you."
"Me? I would never do that." And then you quickened your pace, passing Lan Wangji.
"Donât run," said Lan Wangji behind you, his voice as calm as ever.
"Iâm not running. Iâm just... walking fast. Ah! Hanguang-Jun, when are we going to reach the nextâ"
But as you turned to ask, you realized.
Mo Xuanyu was no longer behind you.
You stopped, blood turning cold.
"Hanguang-Jun..." you murmured. "He ran away again."
You sighed, but didnât complain.
It was the third time that morning alone. And honestly, not even the worst one.
Lan Wangji had already stopped, looking back with that serene and impassive expression as always.
Without exchanging words, the two of you turned around and walked back the way you had come. The sound of footsteps on dry leaves mixed with the rustling of the wind through the trees. Neither of you seemed in a hurry.
"This is getting a bit tiring," you commented after a few minutes of silence.
"He wants attention. Let him," Lan Wangji replied, direct, his tone unchanged.
You smiled slightly, almost without noticing.
"But if he really liked you, like he keeps saying... it doesnât make sense to keep running away. I donât have experience with this kind of thing, but... thatâs not how someone acts when they like someone."
You let out a low sound, somewhere between a restrained laugh and a thoughtful sigh.
"But, to be honest... I wanted to ask you something."
Hanguang-Jun didnât respond, but his silence wasnât one of disapproval. It was the kind of silence that said: Go on.
"His family said he was mad. That he had... mental problems. And everything weâve heard about him â the scandal, the expulsion from the clan, the dishonorable life â none of that matches how he actually acts. He seems lucid. Too much, even. Observant, alert, intelligent."
You paused for a moment, as if trying to organize your own thoughts.
"And then, at Mingshi, he played a flute. A spiritual flute. He knew how to handle resentful energy. He knew what he was doing. And I remember... the day before that, he said he could play well. He was defending his own skills, kind of joking, but... it felt genuine."
The wind blew harder for a second, and the dry leaves swirled across the ground.
"You know... even though Iâve never met him personally... he strangely reminds me of the Yiling Patriarch."
You werenât looking at Lan Wangji when you said it. But you felt it.
The silence that followed was different from the ones before. Heavier, almost dense.
You stopped too, hesitant. Turned your face toward him.
Lan Wangji still hadnât said anything, but his body was completely still. His eyes fixed on a point ahead. There was no anger or alarm, but there was no longer that quiet serenity either.
The mere mention of Wei Wuxian was still a stone thrown into a perfectly calm lake.
Lan Wangji turned his face toward you. His eyes were calm, but carried a depth hard to read.
"Youâre right," he said at last. "He does resemble."
"Thatâs not something to be said lightly," he added. "But it wasnât careless on your part."
"Li (name)," Lan Wangji interrupted, his voice low but firm.
Your name, spoken like that, silenced you instantly. It wasnât a sharp cut, nor a reprimand. It was simply... care. A subtle gesture, yet full of meaning.
You stared at him, surprised.
"There are things," he continued, after a brief pause, "that donât need to be said aloud. Especially when they are already understood."
A chill ran down your spine. It was a confirmation. But somehow, also a warning.
"But... thereâs no one here anyway," you insisted, your voice hesitant. "Hanguang-Jun, do you... do you think Mo Xuanyu is Wei Wuxian?"
Lan Wangji looked at you for a brief moment, his eyes still, intense.
But then he looked away, resuming his walk in silence.
You stayed where you were, his words echoing in your mind. Words unspoken, but clearly understood.
You sighed, long and quiet â a sigh more weary than frustrated â and ran a few steps to place yourself in front of him, blocking his path.
"We know each other well, Hanguang-Jun," you began, firm, but without aggression. "Iâm your disciple. If youâre involved in something serious, or if your reputation ends up ruined one day... then Iâm involved too. And Iâm willing to be."
He watched you silently. There was no surprise in his gaze, only attentive listening.
"I respect you. A lot. And itâs exactly because of that that I worry... maybe more than I should." You took a deep breath. "If you know heâs Wei Wuxian... are you protecting him?"
The silence that followed was thick. You could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, but you didnât step back.
"Or..." you continued, softer, "do you trust me enough to share that burden?"
Lan Wangjiâs golden eyes narrowed slightly. It was rare to see him hesitate, even for a second.
"Honestly?" you let out a small smile. "You never spoke ill of him. Not even once. Not even in small jabs. And now... look how far youâve come because of him."
A soft breeze passed through the trees, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.
"Hanguang-Jun..." you concluded gently, "regardless of who he was or who he is now, Iâll help. If only because I owe him a favor, too."
This time, his silence didnât carry denial, nor resistance.
It was a silence that felt like...
"Letâs do it like this: if you nod, it means he is Wei Wuxian. But if you say 'mhm', it means he might be. So?"
"There. Thatâs enough."
After that short but heavy exchange of words, you and Lan Wangji resumed walking along the narrow, silent trail. The wind blew gently through the trees, swaying branches and scattering dry leaves onto the ground. The sound of your footsteps blended with the natural rustling of the forest.
Not long after, you found him.
Mo Xuanyu was standing at the side of the road, about to climb onto the back of a simple wooden cart. The driver, an elderly man with calloused hands, watched him with mild suspicion but seemed about ready to allow it.
Before he could climb up, Lan Wangji was already approaching with calm, purposeful steps. You barely had time to say anything. In one silent and precise motion, Lan Wangji grabbed the sleeve of Mo Xuanyuâs robe and pulled him back down to the ground.
âTchâŚâ he muttered, straightening himself with an irritated expression. âI wasnât even going far.â
âWe know,â you replied, stepping closer. âBut itâs the third time just today.â
Mo Xuanyu ran a hand through his hair without saying anything.
Lan Wangji simply stared at him for a few seconds, then turned around. You gave a subtle nod, and Mo Xuanyu followed â without protest, this time.
The sun was already nearing the horizon as you crossed the last stretch of road and spotted the village in the distance. The entrance was simple, flanked by large clay jars filled with flowers and paper lanterns hanging from wooden arches.
As you approached, the sounds of daily life surrounded you: merchants packing up the last of their goods, children running through stone alleyways, the soft sound of water flowing through a canal between houses.
The market was already winding down, but still busy. A vendor rolled up fabrics at a nearby stall, while others served bowls of rice or hot tea to customers seated on low wooden benches.
The architecture was traditional, with dar
k wooden buildings, curved roofs, and red streamers fluttering in the breeze. The air smelled of freshly cooked food, lightly mixed with the scent of flowers.
Mo Xuanyu watched silently for a moment.
"This place is peaceful," he murmured, almost to himself.
You nodded, saying nothing.
Lan Wangji stopped in front of a modest inn, with two lanterns lit at the entrance. Without a word, he climbed the steps and entered. You both followed.
"Weâre already full," said the innkeeper â a middle-aged woman with a simple manner, counting coins behind the counter. When she looked up and saw that you were cultivators, she immediately straightened, flashing a quick smile.
"Oh! Honorable cultivators, what an honor to receive you in my humble inn!"
"Madam, thatâs not necessary," you said politely. "We appreciate your hospitality, but you said youâre full. Weâll look for another place."
"What? Oh, no, no! I got confused. We still have one room available."
"Yes, young miss. Two days ago, a cultivator clan passed through here for a night hunt in the area. Thatâs why all the rooms are taken. They should be leaving tomorrow afternoon."
"So theyâre the ones occupying the inn? Which clan?" you asked, trying to sound casual.
"Let me see... Huayin Li, I think that was the name."
Here? Them? Why here, of all places?
It doesnât feel like a large-scale hunt... which means my father probably isnât here. Maybe not even my brothers.
But what if someone recognizes me? What do I do? What do I do?!
"Do you think one room will be enough for the three of you?" asked the innkeeper, forcing a smile.
"No! I... Iâll look for another place," you said quickly. "It would be inappropriate for me to share a room with them. Either way... Iâd rather find different lodging."
You turned to Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu, avoiding the womanâs gaze.
Yes. That was a good excuse. A way out. At least for now.
You stepped back toward the exit of the inn.
Lan Wangji turned slightly toward you. His eyes seemed intense, but there was no judgment in them.
"Thatâs unnecessary," he said, slowly. His voice was calm, but firm.
You frowned, keeping a composed expression.
"It is necessary. It would be improper, wouldnât it?"
"You donât care about such things in certain situations."
You pressed your lips together, momentarily at a loss for words.
"Because when it happens, itâs in critical situations."
Lan Wangji didnât hesitate.
Your eyes met his for a few seconds. There was something restrained there, something you mightâve preferred not to see just then.
"Even so, Iâd rather look for another place," you answered with a polite, almost automatic smile, before turning and walking out the door.
The sound of the wooden floor creaking beneath your steps was the only thing that accompanied your exit. You didnât look back.
Mo Xuanyu only watched in silence, arms crossed, his eyes moving from Lan Wangji to the door.
"Sheâs really going to look for another place?" he murmured, mostly to himself.
Lan Wangji didnât answer. He simply turned slowly and walked to the counter, as if nothing had happened.
Night had fully fallen by the time you left the inn. The lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, and the scent of damp wood, mixed with burnt rice in the last of the pots, filled the air.
You had no idea where you were going. But you didnât want to stay. Not yet.
The first inn turned you away with a strained smile, claiming they were full â even though you had clearly seen two keys hanging behind the woman at the counter.
The second was more honest. Said it was because of the presence of important cultivators in the village.
You knew it was a lie. The Li Clan wasnât exactly known. Much less considered important. In fact, in recent years, it had earned a reputation for decline.
And from what you knew, the clan was facing financial hardship. They surely couldnât afford expensive rooms for many days â not even in a modest inn like that one.
But strangely, they didnât seem to care. After all, that was the path of duality they preached so much: flaunt on the outside, conceal the cracks within.
Maybe that was all. Or maybe it was something more.
Even if they belonged to the same clan as you, that meant nothing. In no place, at no time, was anything guaranteed. You always did what you could to avoid encounters, avoid conflict â invisible out of convenience, unrecognizable by necessity.
But what if, by chance, someone recognized you? And what if they ran off right after?
The Gusu Lan robes you wore drew attention. Too pure. Too immaculate. Any small detail could be remembered.
And then they would tell your father.
And then â eventually â they would come to Gusu.
And then... they would take you back.
Your former master, that stubborn old man who had always carried your existence like an unspoken secret, would pay the price. He was the one who allowed you to come to this region; he was the one who bankrolled your silence. And even if he wasnât exactly an affectionate man, you loved him. In a crooked sort of way. The way one loves a difficult grandfather.
You knew how much this could stain your reputation â or worse, further stain the name of the Li Clan. Maybe that was fair. Or maybe it was just the cycle starting over: running from one clan, then another... Always running.
You held back a sigh. Even dressed in Gusuâs colors, you felt invisible under the weight of the name you carried behind them.
Time seemed longer. The cold settled into your wrists, your neck, the pit of your stomach.
Tired, you slowly returned to the area around the first inn, but didnât go inside. You turned into a side street until you found a narrow alley between two wooden houses, where the back of the buildings cast shadow against the lantern light.
You sat there, on the hard-packed dirt. It was damp, but you didnât care.
The alley was narrow, its walls lined with aged wood darkened by moisture. Some plants grew through the cracks, and a dripping sound echoed from a clogged gutter, hitting an abandoned bucket. The sound was irregular, but hypnotic. A dog barked in the distance. Then, silence.
Staying up for a night wasnât too much, right?
Maybe sleep was dangerous. Or maybe you just didnât want to lower your guard.
And then, in the silence of that forgotten corner of the village, you allowed yourself to rest your head against the cold wall, feeling a slight chill at the nape of your neck. You looked up, where the sky revealed only a patch of stars.
You didnât know how much time had passed. The cold has this strange way of stretching out minutes â sometimes like fog that fades, sometimes like a stone pressing down on your shoulders.
Your body was starting to stiffen. The wall behind you, once a support, now only brought discomfort. Every drop from the gutter into the bucket in front of you seemed to mark time in crooked beats, unhurried, without purpose.
You were about to close your eyes â or maybe just let them get heavy â when you heard footsteps.
Almost inaudible. But youâd learned to recognize that kind of sound.
You didnât need to lift your head.
Only one person walked like that.
"...You said you were going to look for another place," his voice came close, low enough to be meant only for your ears.
You didnât answer right away.
Lan Wangji stopped a few steps away. Between you, only the soft sound of fabric shifting in the breeze â and the last lonely drip of the gutter.
"Young Master Mo might run off if left alone," you murmured, still not looking at him.
"He canât move," Lan Wangji replied. Without denying. Without explaining.
"Why? What did you do to him?"
"Donât speak like that."
"Fine, fine... mhm... was it a spell? Is that it?"
You let out a tired sigh, shoulders sagging.
"Because I donât want to."
"Thatâs not an answer. Is it... because of that clan?"
"Of course not!" your voice rose before you could stop it. "Donât make assumptions. I lived in the capital. How could I have any connection to something I didnât even know? I donât even know who they are!"
"But you... hesitated when you heard."
You stood abruptly, too quickly for muscles chilled by the cold. And you faced him.
There was anger there. But a worn-out anger. Fragile.
You let out a short laugh. Dry. Empty of humor.
"Why do you keep doing this? Asking me, analyzing me... Why does it feel like everything I say needs to be proven?!" your voice faltered, almost a whisper. "Is it really that hard to just... believe?"
Lan Wangji held your gaze. Unshaken.
It was honest. Cruel, maybe. But honest.
He stepped forward. His shadow fell over you under the flickering lantern light. His outline, so firm, seemed too solid to fit into your uncertain world.
"You tend to change moods when youâre uncomfortable."
"You tend to deny anything that touches you."
"STOP IT! Itâs nonsense, itâs all nonsense... itâs... itâs all... nothing to do with anything..."
"Donât call me that too!" you snapped immediately, chest tightening. "You met me as Li Yuqing from the beginning! Thatâs how we introduced ourselves first! Better just Yuqing... Why are you questioning things again, huh? We already got past this stupid phase, soâ"
You stopped. Not because the anger faded â but because you no longer knew where the truth ended and the defense began.
He said nothing more. Just looked at you. In the same way as always: too serious. Too quiet. As if every word carried too much weight to be wasted.
The breeze came again. The dripping too.
You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to make the world feel smaller. Simpler.
You scratched your head in frustration, messing up your own hair in the process. Slowly, you sat back down on the cold ground.
Pulled your knees to your chest and buried your head there, trying to disappear inside yourself.
It didnât take many seconds before something touched your head. A soft, careful gesture â the kind that seemed out of place coming from him.
You looked up, surprised.
Lan Wangji was kneeling in front of you.
"From now on," he said in a low, firm voice, "you wonât investigate my life before Gusu anymore. In exchange, you can keep handling my âmissteps,â whatever they may be. If thatâs enough for you... itâs enough for me. Thatâs what you said that day."
You stared at him in silence for a moment. Then sighed.
"...You forgot the part where I said it was more beneficial for me than for you."
You narrowed your eyes for a moment.
"Hanguang-Jun... you donât see me as Wei Wuxian anymore, do you? That would be so... irritating... or worse. But Iâm polite enough to keep certain words to myself."
"I donât. Not anymore."
You said nothing. But the silence between you this time didnât feel so cold.
Then he stood up, still with the same impassive expression, and extended a hand toward you.
"Letâs go back to the inn."
"I... still donât want to."
He didnât insist with words. He simply held your hand and, without warning, pulled you up.
You were about to protest again when, suddenly, he slid one arm behind your back, the other under your knees â and lifted you off the ground effortlessly.
He carried you firmly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Your body tilted slightly in his arms. One of your hands rested against his chest, while the other hovered in the air â caught between surprise and an attempt to regain balance. Lan Wangji held you with steadiness â one hand under your bent legs, the other supporting your back precisely. Your faces were close enough that you could feel his breath.
"W-what are you doing?! Hanguang-Jun, please put me down!" you tried to keep your voice steady, but it came out higher-pitched than youâd hoped.
"Male and female cultivators are kept strictly separate! Interactions like this are forbidden. Thatâs what your uncle said! Even the Wall of Disciplineâ"
