#jau writes

Wenren È plucked the child from the pile of corpses, and seized his hand. Already the boy's body was polluted with corpse energy, his flesh nearly rotting with infection. Yet underneath that, his cultivation base was promising. With proper training, that child would become a truly impressive cultivator, if he had the willpower to work for it. 

The idea of using that child as a weapon occurred to him again,only to be soon pushed aside by another. A loyal subordinate was easy enough to acquire. Wenren È’s power was sure to draw to him those who hoped to grow in his shadow. But a child capable of surviving when everything around him had died, one with a will to survive so strong he was ready to pledge himself to anyone capable of helping him live a little longer…

It was unlikely the child would survive, Wenren È mused. His body was in a terrible state. His mind likely was just as bad if not worse, though Wenren È figured that was a lesser problem. If that body recovered, if that mind overcame its trauma, if that child was properly trained, wouldn’t he make an incredible opponent someday?

“I need someone strong,” Wenren È stated. “Someone willing to fight me to the death when the day comes.”

The little boy stared at him dully for so long Wenren È wondered if he’d been heard. Then, with slow determination, the child nodded once, his small face grim yet showing no sign of fear.

Wenren È slung the child over his shoulder, as careless as if it were a bag of rice he had to carry, and started thinking.

If he’d intended to turn that child into his weapon, naturally he would have made him his disciple by flinging him in some area rich in natural energy and giving him some manual or other to practice with. But a child raised that way, one who thought of him as his master, might grow to be hesitant to strike him. Even demonic cultivators sometimes developed proper filial feelings for their teachers.

Instead, it might be more efficient to let someone else train that child, and teach him to hate Wenren È. Any of the righteous sects would do fine for that. They were always quick to tell their disciples to despise demonic cultivators, so they didn’t have to inspect their own behaviour. As to which one should be chosen for that child… it did not matter much. They were all the same, at the end of the day. 

Eventually, Wenren È settled on taking the child to the gate of Shangqing sect. They had a reputation for growing power, and were said to have access to a great number of healing pills and competent doctors. They also easily accepted promising children, and would definitely keep this one once they checked his potential, no matter how suspicious it would be to have a child in such a bad state handed to them, when their own region was currently free from mortal wars.

“You will live,” Wenren È ordered. “And you will grow strong. When you are strong enough, you will face me in battle.”

He felt the boy nod again, more weakly now. Even though he had been removed from that pile of corpses, the child was still in a terrible state, and might die soon without proper care.

“My name is Wenren È. When you are ready, come and find me. Until then, keep our encounter a secret.”

This time the child did not react. His breathing was weaker, and Wenren È wondered if he might have fainted.

With no more time to waste, Wenren È quickly made his way to Shangqing sect, and left the boy somewhere he was sure to be quickly found. On a whim, he even stayed nearby for a moment, until a disciple of that sect noticed the dying child and hurriedly brought him inside.

A rare pang of doubt struck Wenren È. That child really might have become a useful subordinate, given a chance, and a useful tool in his planned assault against the Xuanyuan sect… But Wenren È trusted his own strength. He would take over that sect with his own power. As for the child, he would either become someone worthy of interest, or he would not. It was not in Wenren È’s hands anymore.

Still it occurred to him, too late, that he did not know the boy’s name. He hadn’t thought to ask. Ultimately, it was unimportant.

It wasn't his place to ask questions. He wasn't quite Lan Xichen's friend, so naturally he couldn't hope for any confidences about that ordeal. Still, Nie Huaisang had tried to find out the truth from his brother, only to learn that Nie Mingjue had never interrogated his good friend about those missing months. Worse still, Nie Mingjue had been reluctant to hear that topic discussed at all, when he was never a man to shy away from difficult topics.

Others were equally uninterested in what happened to Lan Xichen in the early days the war. Although Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji now deferred to him in all things, they were too polite to pester him with questions, and besides they'd had worries of their own at that time, hadn't they. Meng Yao, now Jin Guangyao, found countless excuses to avoid Nie Huaisang's questions, and eventually resorted to begging him not to ask, as he did not like to think about the past. Nie Huaisang might have insisted anyway, had he not become convinced that Meng Yao simply could not answer his questions.

Around that time, Nie Huaisang took notice of Lan Xichen's face.

It used to be that Lan Xichen's face was forgettable. He was handsome, of course. Lans always were. But it was a rather boring sort of beauty which in the end failed to truly attract the eye, no matter what some young ladies and their list of eligible bachelors said.

People never used to have any reason to look at Lan Xichen.

These days, they avoided it.

It always took Nie Huaisang great effort to stare at that face, but he forced himself to do it every time he met Lan Xichen. He could not have explained what made it so difficult. Pushed to explain his discomfort, he might have said that Lan Xichen had become too handsome, but that wasn't quite true. There was something unnatural in that beauty, a smooth perfection that made one dizzy if observed for too long.

And his eyes...

Right then Nie Huaisang dared to glance at Lan Xichen's face, only to find those eyes directed at him. He shivered, and wished he could look away. Somewhere under those terrible eyes, something that might be called a smile spread across lips coloured a perfect shade of pink.

The glass of tea was lowered back to the table. Lan Xichen's attention was entirely on Nie Huaisang, his strange eyes piercing right through him, carelessly digging through every fearful thought that ever crossed his mind. The smile on Lan Xichen's lips widened, just a touch too much. Had anyone looked at him, they would have understood, as Nie Huaisang did, that something wasn't right. But nobody ever looked at Lan Xichen's face. Nobody wanted to. Nobody except Nie Huaisang and it occurred to him, a little late, that he only felt curious because he was allowed to do so.

Lan Xichen laughed softly. It was a pleasant sound, light and joyful, as unnervingly perfect as everything else.

But suddenly something else caught his attention. A remark from Jin Guangyao, followed by a reaction from Nie Mingjue. Lan Xichen looked away from Nie Huaisang who immediately had to take a deep breath.

He'd forgotten to do so since the moment Lan Xichen's eyes met his.

Nie Mingjue, entirely unable to look at the thing that bore his best friend's skin, was nonetheless capable of seeing his own brother, and how pale he'd suddenly become. Nie Huaisang lied. He had no idea what excuse he gave, but he was allowed to leave the room and go rest.

Nie Huaisang had escaped because Lan Xichen had allowed it.

It had taken him months to make Lan Xichen realise that he was no longer the scrawny, pimply boy who used to taken lessons at his uncle's school. And then some weeks more to ascertain that Lan Xichen was single not because he was picky about girls, but because he was so deep in the closet that Mr Tumnus might start charging rent. Then Nie Huaisang had only needed to orchestrate a few perfect dates between them (perfectly innocent ones, of course)(they hadn't even kissed yet)(tonight would change that).

Then had come the invitation for the present day. Nie Huaisang had made himself blush prettily, and coyly offered that Lan Xichen come to his place. An invitation that was easily accepted of course, because Nie Huaisang was a catch, if he said so himself, and...

“Where can I put this?” Lan Xichen asked after slipping out his shoes, lifting the box a little higher to clarify his meaning.

“Oh, I don't know,” Nie Huaisang replied, trying to sound seductive. “Where do you want it to go?”

“I suppose the kitchen would be best. Unless you want to start with it?”

The offer was so bold that Nie Huaisang blushed. A true, sincere blush. He'd had no idea that Lan Xichen could be so direct! Had he wasted his time, trying to take things slow? Stupid, he'd been stupid, and...

“I just don't want it to melt,” Lan Xichen went on, giving the box a worried look. “The shop said it could keep out of a fridge for an hour, but I don't want to take risks.”

“The shop said... what?”

Temperature play was not without appeal, but it was definitely a kink that needed to be talked about and negotiated in advance.

“You still like raspberry, don't you?” Lan Xichen asked. “I remember your brother often brought you some when he picked you up after classes. Just in case, I also got a few classic flavours. Vanilla, chocolate... I got stracciatella for myself, but I don't mind sharing.”

Nie Huaisang stared at him, then at the box.

“Xichen-ge, what's in there exactly?”

“Ice-cream, of course. Well, gelato. I'm told there's a difference.” Lan Xichen frowned, and his grip on the box tightened. “You said netflix and chill, and... that's movie and an ice-cream, isn't it?”

Looking better at the box, Nie Huaisang realised the complicated calligraphy might be constructed to spell the name of a famous ice-cream parlour he'd heard about. It wasn't quite as exciting as a dildo, but it was still something that Lan Xichen had bought to make him happy. A touching attention remained touching even if it did not, in fact, involve physical contact.

Besides, Nie Huaisang really did love raspberry as a flavour.

“Xichen-ge, you're the best,” he exclaimed, unable to keep a deep fondness out of his voice. “You're right, the kitchen is best... let's put it in the freezer until we've decided what to watch. And we could order some takeout as well, how does that sound? I know a place not far that has some delightful vegetarian dishes, you'll love it.”

Lan Xichen smiled at him, visibly relieved that he hadn't misinterpreted anything.

Ah, he was just so cute.

“What of my feelings indeed?” Lan Xichen asked with an innocent smile. “I get along wonderfully with Tian Yuanjun. We've been on Night Hunts together. We agree on most topics, and have interesting debates when we happen to disagree. She is as happy to marry me as I am to marry her.”

“You do not love her.”

Lan Xichen winced. Regrettably, in contact with Wei Wuxian, his brother had learned to occasionally be direct, always at the worst of times.

“I love her as much as I love you, Wangji. As much as I love the children in our sect.”

“As much as you love Nie Huaisang?” Lan Wangji accused.

“Do you love me less than your husband?” Lan Xichen retorted. “No, don't try to answer that,” he quickly added, seeing the pain on his brother's face. “My question was unfair, but so was yours. I love him differently than I love her, or you, or shufu. Must you make this so difficult for me, Wangji?”

Far from being properly chastised, Lan Wangji turned again to their uncle.

“Is cheating on a spouse not against the rules?”

“It is,” Lan Qiren agreed.

Lan Wangji turned back to his brother, quietly triumphant. If the rules said so, there was nothing to do but obey. Yet Lan Xichen only smirked at him.

“Of course cheating is a vague concept,” Lan Qiren went on. “Tian Yuanjun is aware of her future husband's pre-existing relationship, and does not mind. I believe she even counted it as a determining factor in making an agreement with Xichen.”

A nod from Lan Xichen confirmed that. Tian Yuanjun wanted out of her father's home, and she wanted children, but she was uninterested in sharing her bed more than necessary. A marriage with a man who needed heirs but otherwise preferred to spend his nights elsewhere, in a sect that generally segregated between sexes, was a dream come true for her.

“That is not the spirit of the rules,” Lan Wangji insisted.

Lan Xichen smiled at him.

“Please do tell me more about following not only the letter, but also the spirit of our rules, Wangji. That is a debate I'm sure will be edifying to both of us. And perhaps we might also invite your husband to that conversation, to see what he thinks of it?”

Lan Wangji glared at him. Lan Xichen stared right back, never losing his smile.

Eventually Lan Wangji looked away, defeated at last.

“Nie Huaisang is a bad influence on you,” he still threw at his brother.

“Young man, my story is a sorrowful one,” the monk lamented. “Recently, as I was passing through this forest with a novice from my monastery, we were ambushed by bandits and captured. We were able to escape, but they pursued us, and that poor novice fell down a gully. I do not have the strength to carry him out of it on my own, will you not help me rescue him and carry him to the nearest village?”

It was exactly the story Lan Wangji had heard about. When it was initially shared with him, Jin Ling found it full of holes. Hearing it in person, it was even less believable.

“How did you escape?” he asked.

“We were lucky,” the monk said. “I’m not sure how we did it either, so I can’t say more.”

That answer would have heightened Jin Ling’s suspicions even if he hadn’t already known the man was a fraud. What real monk would speak like that, instead of thanking Buddha for his protection?

“I don’t know about helping you,” Jin Ling said, resisting the impulse to look around in case he saw the others. Lan Jingyi at least couldn't be far. “What if the bandits are still there, and they also capture me? We should go together to the village, and come back with as many strong men as possible, so we can rescue your novice without risk.”

“It would take too long,” the monk protested, his kindly expression turning a little more agitated. “That poor novice is badly hurt, and the nights are cold. If we try to involve others, he might just pass away before he can be rescued. As for the bandits, since it’s dark, they’re definitely at their hideout again, most likely getting drunk.”

Jin Ling pretended to hesitate, to give the others more time to get closer. Then, fearing that the monk would notice he wasn’t another easy prey, he loudly agreed to go help that poor novice.

The monk smiled with almost believable sincerity, and motioned for Jin Ling to follow him off the road. A shiver coursed through him as he stepped away from the main path, and he soon wished he were back on the road. The understory was dense, and the canopy allowed little light to pass through. If he hadn’t been a cultivator, Jin Ling would have been entirely blind. Not that his heightened sight could fix all his problems. His fragile commoner clothes kept getting caught in brambles and branches, tearing easily. More than once he stumbled on roots and nearly fell. Meanwhile, the monk, wounded as he was supposed to be, walked without any issues, betraying how well he knew the invisible path on which he’d taken Jin Ling.

Annoyed that so little effort was put into deceiving him, Jin Ling was caught off guard when the monk suddenly jumped to the side. Jin Ling, who was in the middle of a step, froze in place, glad that there was nobody to see him in that ridiculous posture.

“Is something wrong, young man?” the monk innocently asked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Jin Ling snapped. “Why did you suddenly go to the side like that?”

“I just realised that the gully is very close by, and I feared falling into it. But now that I’m getting a closer look, it’s a little further, we can keep going safely.”

“Then get back in front of me, and show me the way!”

The monk did not move.

“I think it would be safer if from this point on, you were in front. To tell you the truth, I am very tired, and I can’t walk well right now on this uneven ground. If you go in front, I can step where you do and stay safe.”

Jin Ling put his foot down, careful to move it toward the back. If he focused carefully, he could just barely feel that something strange lay ahead of him. An array, if he had to guess, and a very skilfully hidden one at that. Jin Ling would not have noticed it if the monk’s behaviour hadn’t called his attention to it.

“Young man, we must hurry,” the monk insisted, his voice losing some of its warmth. “My novice is in danger, and he is only a child. How can I live with myself if he dies by my fault?”

Jin Ling gritted his teeth. He could not hear the others anywhere. Either they were moving more quietly than him, or they were too far away. Someone like Lan Wangji might have managed to move in total silence, but Wen Yuan was still early in his training, while Lan Jingyi was loud by nature, so the second option was the more likely one. It wouldn’t have been a problem if the monk had been a ghost. Ghosts were easy, very few of them could pull truly nasty tricks.

But this wasn’t a ghost. This was a living man, and one skilled enough to have set up a complex array, the effects of which Jin Ling couldn’t be certain of. Nor could he know if there weren’t other traps around them, laid down to catch those who were clever enough to avoid the main array. Humans were unpredictable, and those who targeted other people all the more so. Jin Ling had heard enough stories of Jiang Cheng facing demonic cultivators to know how dangerous things could get.

If there had been others around, Jin Ling would never have faltered. But right then, alone with that false monk, he was terrified.

“Young man, let’s get going already,” the monk snapped. “I’ve wasted enough time.”

As he said this, he launched himself at Jin Ling, grabbing him by the wrist. As soon as his cold hand touched Jin Ling’s skin, he let out a startled cry.

“You’re a cultivator!”

The monk quickly let go of Jin Ling, who in turn snatched his arm so he could not escape.

That was as far as Jin Ling had thought things through. He had to stop that man, but aside from waiting for Lan Wangji and the others to arrive, what was he supposed to do?

What would Jiang Cheng have done in a situation that bad?

Not get in it in the first place, Jin Ling desperately thought. Useless advice. He was in the situation already.

Then, what would have Jiang Cheng done if the bad situation couldn’t be avoided?

Be worse than whoever threatened him, of course.

“You are not going anywhere,” Jin Ling claimed, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “We’re going to deal with you and make you pay for your crimes!”

“We?” the false monk snickered. “Kid, you’re all alone with me. And you know… I’d been wondering if my array could absorb an entire golden core and feed mine. I guess I’ll find out!”

With his free hand, Jin Ling pulled out his sword and tried to strike the man. He missed, and the man managed to kick him in the stomach, sending him close to the limit of the array. Jin Ling jumped to his feet and leaped away from the array, just barely avoiding being kicked again and falling into the array.

“Not bad,” the man mocked. “I always figured sect cultivators were too soft to put up a real fight, but this is fun.”

Without answering, Jin Ling launched himself at the false monk, trying to slash at him yet not daring to attack as violently as he would have a ghost or monster. The man easily avoided him again and kicked him in the knee with a laugh.

“Going easy on me, kid? You really think you can afford that?”

Jin Ling gritted his teeth, willing himself to ignore the sharp pain in his knee. That man would not hesitate to kill him. Jin Ling had to be just as merciless. Jiang Cheng would have already killed his opponent, to be sure. Jin Zixuan would have pierced that false monk’s heart without hesitation, and so would have Jin Guangyao, and all those others who had lived through the Sunshot campaign. Jin Ling had to be as strong as them. He had to, or else Jin Chan would hear about it and call him a weakling until the day he died.

Gripping his sword tightly, Jin Ling attacked the monk again. Like before, the man avoided him and tried to kick him, but Jin Ling already knew to expect it and quickly slashed at his leg. Blood sprang from the wound, almost black in the low light of the moon, and the false monk cursed.

“You little fucker, you’re going to pay for that!” the man hissed as he plunged one hand inside the fold of his robes.

From there he withdrew a handful of unfamiliar looking talismans. Jin Ling quickly stepped back and tensely watched the man. It was an unspoken rule of Night Hunts that new talismans were the most dangerous anyone could face in a fight. Most of them either did nothing or only managed to harm their user, but those few that did work were unpredictable. Sometimes a glance at them could give you an idea of what they were for, but a man capable of creating that nearly undetectable array knew how to disguise his talismans as well. All Jin Ling could be certain of was that those ones were bad news.

What would Jiang Cheng have done? What would his father? What would anyone had done who knew anything?

Jin Ling gripped his sword tighter, trying to keep his breathing calm.

It was supposed to be an easy Night Hunt. They’d only come there because it was meant to be easy, something even Wen Yuan could handle at his low level. At least it was him who had been caught by the false monk, Jin Ling thought as he waited for the man to make a move. If it had been Wen Yuan, if that man had hurt him…

With a terrible grin, the man threw his talismans at Jin Ling who raised his sword in a slashing movement to protect himself. His blade only met with ashes. He feared for a moment that it had been part of the intended effect, but the monk’s expression quickly turned to confused rage. Jin Ling tensed and tried to attack him again in spite of the agonising pain in his knee, but a white flash beat him to it. A cold blade had come out of nowhere and plunged into the false monk’s shoulder, pinning him to a tree.

As furious screams rang in the forest, three silhouettes appeared from the shadows.

“Jin Ling, you’re alive!” Wen Yuan cried out, throwing himself at his husband to hug him. “I was so worried! If you’d gotten hurt…”

Technically Jin Ling was hurt, but it wasn’t anything serious, and he found that pain well worth the reward of being in Wen Yuan’s arms. He allowed himself to enjoy it, just one second, two seconds, three, and then forced himself to look at the Lans.

“What took you so long?” he asked Lan Jingyi.

“There was an array,” Lan Wangji explained, his eyes never leaving the monk. “You vanished after leaving the road. It took effort to break through.”

Whatever guilt Jin Ling felt for failing to notice that other array was alleviated when he heard even Lan Wangji had trouble with it. And anyway, if it was set up as discreetly as the one on which he’d nearly stepped, he couldn’t be blamed, right? That man, that false monk, was regrettably very skilled.

“There’s another array right there,” Jin Ling warned, pointing at it. “From what he said, that’s how he drained people of their energy.”

Lan Wangji did not look toward the array, but nodded once.

“Well done,” he stated, the mild praise making Jin Ling blush nearly as much as Wen Yuan’s arms around his shoulders. “It must be neutralised. The three of you can attempt it. If it is too complex, I will handle it.”

Having given his orders, Lan Wangji worked on immobilising the false monk with immortal binding cables. To Jin Ling’s dismay, Wen Yuan finally let go of him, and knelt down to inspect the nearest part of the array. Lan Jingyi followed its edge in one direction, giving Jin Ling no choice but to limp the opposite way. 

It was a terribly complex array, but the more Jin Ling checked it, the clearer it was that it shouldn’t have been so complex. It had many redundant parts, and a few unnecessary ones. The energy transfer part was drawn in a very wasteful manner so more than half of it dissipated before reaching the false monk. The elements which helped hide the array were quite clever, though. If Jin Ling had to guess, that was the work of someone who had been sold faulty cultivation manuals mixed with a few real ones. It was a shame that the fake monk had resorted to such methods, because with proper training he could have become an incredible cultivator.

“Alright, I’ve found a fault in the array,” Lan Jingyi announced. “Wen Yuan, come here, I’ll show you how to break it.”

Wen Yuan nodded, rose up, and came to obediently kneel next to Lan Jingyi. Before they could do anything, the false monk perked up and started fighting against the cables around his limbs and the sword in his shoulder.

“Wen Yuan?” he excitedly exclaimed. “Wei Wuxian’s son? The one who got married?”

He received no answer, but Wen Yuan’s back stiffened as he kept working on dismantling the array.

“Wen gongzi, you’ve got to help me!” the man insisted. “We’ve never met, but my name is Xue Yang, and I’m your father’s disciple. Did he ever mention me, Xue Yang? He has to! He taught me his techniques when we were young. It was before you were born, of course. But he taught me all that I know, and told me to go cause chaos in the world, and he… hmg!”

Mid rant, Xue Yang’s lips became sealed. He looked pleadingly at Wen Yuan, while Jin Ling instead glanced at Lan Wangji and shivered. Normally it was hard to guess what that man thought. Nothing appeared to touch him, he reacted with indifference to good and bad news. But at that moment, his emotions couldn’t have been clearer.

Lan Wangji was furious.

Worried that his anger, which could have no cause but Wei Wuxian’s evil actions, would be taken out on Wen Yuan, Jin Ling leaped in front of his husband. His knee ached, and his hand trembled on his sword, but he was ready to defend Wen Yuan even against a man as extraordinary as the mighty Hanguang-Jun.

“You are not a disciple of Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji calmly stated. “His methods are not yours. Foolish claims will not save you.”

Xue Yang, is that was truly his name, stared at Lan Wangji in disbelief. So did Jin Ling.

He’d always been told that Lan Wangji hated Wei Wuxian, that during the war they were arguing fiercely every time they met, refusing to see eye to eye when it came to the methods used to fight the Wens. Yet here Lan Wangji was, defending the reputation of a man he believed to be evil. Truly, Lan Wangji’s famed sense of justice was not usurped, if he would refuse to let even the person he hated the most be calumniated against.

Behind Jin Ling, Lan Jingyi and Wen Yuan returned to their dismantling of the array. Finding its weak point had been difficult, but once it was located everything easily crumbled. With that problem out of the way, Jin Ling’s wounded knee was finally noticed and taken care of. Lan Jingyi teased him and gave him a healing pill, while Wen Yuan fretted over him in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

The four of them made their way back to the road, and then to the village. Since Xue Yang was both dangerous and resourceful, Lan Wangji wanted to bring him back to the Cloud Recesses as quickly as possible. Jin Ling was thus tasked with explaining to the villagers that the danger had been taken care of. Having put Jin Ling in charge, Lan Wangji then turned his attention to Wen Yuan.

“Lan zongzhu was worried when he heard Jin gongzi had gotten married,” Lan Wangji stated. “When I return, I will tell him the Jin sect has no reason to be ashamed.”

Wen Yuan blushed, while Jin Ling grinned, understanding this to be high praise indeed. He’d been worried before about the situation with the Nie sect, but if Lan Wangji himself vouched for Wen Yuan, disaster might be avoided for a while longer.

After watching the Lans and their prisoner leave, Jin Ling and his husband headed back to the inn, desperate for some sleep. It was a little odd to share a room, now that it was only the two of them. Jin Ling was careful not to look as Wen Yuan got ready for sleep, but it wasn’t a very large room, and their beds weren’t that far apart, so it was hard not catch a glimpse here and there.

Wen Yuan definitely wasn’t the skinny boy he’d once been anymore.

“So, you really made an impression on Hanguang-Jun,” Jin Ling said in effort to stop his thoughts from wandering somewhere dangerous.

“I didn’t do anything special, though,” Wen Yuan protested as he laid down and pulled a cover over himself. “I felt so useless when we were trying to break through that labyrinth array. I couldn’t do anything at all, and I kept worrying that something would happen to you.”

Jin Ling’s heart raced in his chest. As a rule he hated it when people fussed over him, or thought he wasn’t competent enough to deal with problems, but for some reason he really liked hearing that Wen Yuan had been worried.

“I’m glad it was me and not him alone with Xue Yang,” Jin Ling said. “If it had been you, if he had hurt you… I’m not saying you’re not good enough to defend yourself! You’re great, but…”

“But he was very dangerous,” Wen Yuan said with a joyless laugh. “Even Hanguang-Jun was worried, you know. It’s lucky he arrived in time. He’s really so great! I’ve never seen anyone so skilled, he’s amazing!”

Something sharp stabbed through Jin Ling’s heart.

Wen Yuan had never called him amazing.

“You never said that you knew him,” Jin Ling noted in what he hoped to be a calm and casual tone.

“I didn’t realise it was him,” Wen Yuan laughed. “But Wei zongzhu must have known, it’s strange he never said his name whenever he spoke of that time! Well, Wei zongzhu is a strange man, anyway.”

“He must be, to have chosen the burial mounds as his home,” Jin Ling muttered. “That reminds me, what did Lan Wangji mean the other day, when he said someone else had left Yiling?”

“Did he say anything about that?” Wen Yuan lightly asked. “I don’t recall.”

“He did, yes, the night we arrived here. And you seemed very shocked by it, too. What was that about?”

Wen Yuan did not reply right away, and laid so still he might have seemed asleep, had his breathing not betrayed he was awake.

“Honestly, I don’t know at all what he could have meant,” Wen Yuan said, his voice trembling slightly. “It was a very strange thing to say, wasn’t it? After all, Yiling is a busy enough city, people come and go all the time. Maybe he was trying to test me?”

It was a rather unconvincing suggestion, but Jin Ling didn’t have time to object.

“Anyway, I’m really glad everything went well,” Wen Yuan hurriedly went on. “Especially with Lan Jingyi… Since he’s your friend, I was really worried he wouldn’t like me. I really wanted to get along with him, you know?”

“Well, he did like you,” Jin Ling mumbled. “He said you were nice.”

It still stung a little that Lan Jingyi was so complimentary of Wen Yuan, that Wen Yuan in return quickly warmed up to Lan Jingyi, but if Jin Ling could tell himself they got along partly for his sake, it helped a little.

The trip back home was a little slower than their journey to the Night Hunt had been. The state of Jin Ling’s knee was partly to blame, since even with that healing pill it still ached. But more than that, neither Wen Yuan nor him were in any hurry to be home. It was nice to be away from Carp Tower, and all the obligations and pressure there. Jin Ling was tempted to fly even slower than he really needed, just so they'd have to sleep one more night away from Lanling.

Still, they did reach home eventually, and were warmly greeted by Jin Ling’s mother and siblings. They wanted to hear every detail of that Night Hunt, and while Jin Ling and Wen Yuan had already agreed that a few things had better be left out of their reports, there was still plenty to be said.

“Oh, but first there’s a letter for you, A-Yuan,” Jiang Yanli said as they all walked toward her apartments. “It arrived just yesterday.”

Wen Yuan blushed, but other than that remained perfectly calm.

“Do you know who it’s from?”

“An apothecary in Yiling,” Jiang Yanli said, her cheeks colouring as well. “There was a mix up and I opened it without knowing it wasn’t mine.”

From red, Wen Yuan’s face turned deathly pale. Still he assured her that he did not mind the mistake. The apothecary was an acquaintance of Wei Wuxian, he explained, an old man to whom they sometimes sold rare plants found only in the Burial Mounds. It was nothing important, Wen Yuan assured them, and yet when the letter was handed to him he immediately excused himself and left the room to read it.

It was odd, Jin Ling thought. He’d always thought his husband was all alone in the world, with nobody at his side except his dangerously eccentric father. And yet in the span of three days Jin Ling was learning that Wen Yuan had friends after all, or acquaintances at least, though he’d never mentioned them at all. 

He wondered what other secrets his husband might be keeping.

Something terrible had happened to that man. It was a miracle he'd survived that long. The miracle would likely not last, not with meridians shattered so violently and such an unstable golden core.

“We must take him somewhere safe,” he decided. “And when he passes away, we'll see that he is given a decent burial.”

Naturally A-Qing protested. They had little money, and it couldn't be wasted on a half-dead stranger. That man felt dangerous. He was too heavy to be carried. They were too far from any cities. People would accuse them of murder. 

Xiao Xingchen let her ramble as she pleased while he dragged the stranger’s body on his shoulders. It took effort, the man was as heavy as he was tall. Seeing Xiao Xingchen struggle, A-Qing eventually gave in and helped him put the man in a position that would make carrying him easier, though she never stopped grumbling as she did so.

-

Yi-city was not a good place for anyone to live, but would do well enough for a man who only needed to die. People there had too many problems of their own to care about a pair of blind strangers and the wounded men they carried. Nobody offered to help them, but they were allowed to stay in an abandoned coffin house, as long as they caused no trouble. 

The tall man had not died on their way to Yi-city, as A-Qing had predicted, as Xiao Xingchen quietly expected as well. The air in the city was so bad that it ought to have finished him off quickly.

Instead, he clung to life. For a few days, Xiao Xingchen fed him light broth and medication for a fever he'd developed. A-Qing helped sometimes, but her assistance usually stopped at begging for food and money. She did not trust that stranger. Sometimes Xiao Xingchen wondered why she'd chosen to trust even him. 

The stranger, whom Xiao Xingchen still believed would soon die from what he suspected to be the aftermath of a qi deviation, defied all expectations and started to improve. His fever calmed down. His eyes opened, though for the first few days there was no light to them. He stared above him, giving no sign he understood what he saw. Even once he was well enough to sit, he was little more than a doll, watching without seeing, letting others move him as they needed, eating only to please them.

“Now we’re stuck with him,” A-Qing complained one evening as she fed the stranger some watery congee. “He’s no good to anyone, we should have left him on that road!”

A month had passed since that fateful day. A-Qing still professed to distrust the tall man, but she was less unwilling to look after him. Perhaps, like Xiao Xingchen, she had noticed that he ate more easily when she fed him. The man seemed to like her, though whether that was good or not remained to be seen.

“We had the means to help him. How could we not?”

“Very easily,” A-Qing petulantly retorted. “He eats all our food now! This isn’t a rich place, I can only beg for so much rice every day, and all of it goes to him! Daozhang, you barely ever eat when you do so much work, why does he get more?”

Xiao Xingchen smiled. He’d tried to explain to A-Qing that his golden core could sustain him for long periods, but she did not believe him. As for what he did, it was very little. Locals had caught up with the fact that he was a cultivator, and asked him for small favours in exchange for food or coins. They mostly wanted talismans, though, and he could hardly provide those.

A cry from A-Qing startled Xiao Xingchen, who sprung on his feet.

“He grabbed my hand!” she complained, more annoyed than scared.

Xiao Xingchen walked closer. The stranger had never yet reached out to them, or moved at all except because they made him do so.

“Didi, eat your dinner,” the man mumbled.

His voice was deep, but his tone rather childish. Xiao Xingchen knelt next to him.

“What is your brother’s name?” he asked. “Do you know where he lives?”

The man did not reply right away. Xiao Xingchen heard him let go of A-Qing’s hand, and the girl quickly scuttered away, coming to hide behind Xiao Xingchen.

“Didi is didi,” the man said, slowly, as if it took great effort. “He lives at home, with our father.”

“And what is your name?”

Another pause, a little longer this time.

“Didi calls me Da-ge,” came the unhelpful answer.

Before Xiao Xingchen could ask anything more, the man stood up, pushing away Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing who fell on her side with a cry.

“Didi was in trouble,” he said in a dark voice. “Someone threatened him. Someone with a sabre. There was blood everywhere. Didi was scared. Someone hurt him. I have to find him. I have to protect him.”

He took one long stride, then another, but that was as far as his still healing body could carry him. At the third step, the man collapsed with a heavy sound.

Neither Xiao Xingchen nor A-Qing moved for a while. The surprise of their patient’s sudden return to consciousness could not be so quickly recovered from.

Something was wrong with that man, more so than Xiao Xingchen had expected. A few suspicions quickly came to him. Those were uncertain times. There were many rumours coming from the cultivation world these days, about the Jin sect mostly, and what it did to its enemies. If Xiao Xingchen was right…

He hoped not to be.

Those problems could wait. The only thing that mattered at the moment was to check that the man hadn’t hurt himself when falling, and to carry him to his bed.

-

The man who never gave another name for himself but ‘Da-ge’ became a more active part of their lives from that point on. 

He spoke a few words here and there, often addressing A-Qing as if she were his little brother, and mistaking Xiao Xingchen for a friend of his he called Huan-er. They corrected him at first, but it soon became clear that whatever had happened to him had left serious sequels on his mind, and it was easier to simply go with his delusions. 

Some days, he seemed to understand he was not home, that they were not his brother and his friend. Da-ge was always quieter on those days, more sombre as well, and refused to answer A-Qing’s questions about his past.

It was always her asking. Xiao Xingchen understood regrets and guilt too well to impose his curiosity. Besides, he had some suspicions as to whose blood it had been on Da-ge’s body when they found him, and what might have happened to his brother and his friend. If he was right, Da-ge couldn’t be blamed for preferring those days when his mind weakly returned to childhood.

Whatever was wrong with Da-ge’s mind did not compare with the state of his body. He must have been a fearsome man once, but his qi deviation had left him diminished. He seemed to know it, too, and always looked surprised when it took him effort to lift something heavy, when he suddenly had to sit down in the middle of the task, so exhausted his entire body trembled. Both A-Qing and Xiao Xingchen often ordered him to rest, but he was not a man to stay idle. As soon as his legs could carry him, he set out to make some repairs to the coffin house where they’d settled down. He worked slowly, took breaks whenever his broken body demanded them, but was conscientious and methodical.

How Da-ge negotiated with locals to be given the materials to fix the roof and repair the wall, Xiao Xingchen never found out. It could not have been through threats and extortions, that much was certain. People of Yi City were afraid of Da-ge at first, as anyone would be with a strange man of such stature and height, but his manners and honesty soon won them over.  They knew if they asked him for help, he never balked at difficult tasks, though he wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of him either. Even on his worst days, when his mind was most child-like, Da-ge never lost his sense of justice. He repaid his debts, but he also saw to it that others repaid theirs. He liked to help, but one man who tried to trick him into doing shady business for him was rewarded with a broken nose once Da-ge understood what had happened. 

A few weeks later, that man disappeared from town. He likely ran away, as what little fortune he’d stolen from others was gone, but it happened so suddenly that his neighbours grew suspicious. The day before, that man had had a terrible argument with Da-ge about a widow who’d worked for him but was never paid, and perhaps also about a child who’d left his house with bruises.

Da-ge was weak to the tears of widows and children.

He was also unwilling to put up with bullies, no matter how rich they were.

Xiao Xingchen liked him.

There was nothing extraordinary to this. After a few months in Yi City, nearly everyone who knew him liked Da-ge. Even A-Qing trusted him these days, and her trust was not as easily earned as Xiao Xingchen’s. 

It was harder to say who and what Da-ge liked. He was polite to most people, respectful even to those who had earned it, but rarely warm. A-Qing had won him over quickly, but Xiao Xingchen wasn't sure the man felt much for him, aside from the gratitude due to a benefactor. 

Xiao Xingchen did not mind. He was used to serious types, who reminded him of his teacher. Song Lan too had often seemed cold, but they’d become as close as brothers before tragedy tore them apart. If someday Da-ge warmed up to him, it would be pleasant. Otherwise they would go their separate ways someday, and that would be the end of it. 

-

“You’re a cultivator,” Da-ge said one night.

A-Qing had cooked, so she’d gone to sleep and had let Da-ge wash after her. Xiao Xicheng was drying dishes as they were handed to him. It was their evening routine these days.

“I am.”

“Do you ever go on Night Hunts?”

No matter how clear his mind was on any given day, Da-ge never spoke much. He didn’t mind when others did, and A-Qing in particular could chat around him as much as she liked without ever annoying him, but in any conversation Da-ge preferred to skip his turn. Perhaps it was a sign of improvement that he should be willing to talk that evening.

“Sometimes,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Not as much as I did when I could see.”

Da-ge gave a grunt of approval.

“There are no sects around here, and this town is badly situated. I’d wondered why there were not more problems, but lately I’ve realised Yi City has you to thank for that.”

“I’ve been told the nearest sect was some distance away, and sided with the Wens during that great war some years ago,” Xiao Xingchen explained. “None of them were allowed to survive, and the area is neither rich nor brimming with natural energy, so nobody has yet come to take their place. I’m only doing what anyone would do.”

“Good thing you settled down here, because I don’t think just anyone would do that,” Da-ge retorted. “It’s not a place people care about unless they have to. I’ve been thinking of giving it a try as well, but…”

There was a displeased huff, the sound of droplets, as if perhaps he’d gestured at his broken body, forgetting that Xiao Xingchen could not see his movements.

“The things that trouble this city are dangerous for common people, but not to anyone with even a little training,” Xiao Xingchen noted. “I believe many sects would send children here on their first Night Hunts if the just knew this place exists. A skilled cultivator, even one recovering from an accident, should not struggle as long as he is careful.”

“Especially if he’s not alone,” Da-ge added.

Xiao Xingchen smiled as best as he could. He hadn’t had company on Night Hunts since his falling out with Song Lan. He missed it. Or perhaps it was that specific companion he missed. Da-ge, pleasant as he was, could never replace that lost friendship, but Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t mind starting a new one.

Besides, Night Hunting in pair was safer than doing it alone, and it might help Da-ge’s recovery. Perhaps it would reawaken some of his memories, or give him the occasion to share what he’d already remembered without anyone needing to pry. At a minimum it would give him a chance to be more active, and everything about him showed he was a man who had not often rested in his old life.

“You really must be careful,” Xiao Xingchen insisted. “You are still recovering, and at high risk for another qi deviation.”

“That risk never stopped me before,” Da-ge briskly retorted.

It was the most he’d ever said about his past. Xiao Xingchen was tempted to ask if he’d remembered new things. His long silence as he hesitated was taken as a question of sorts.

“It’s all a fog,” Da-ge said. “No memories, but feelings. Bad ones, most of them. Not just the qi deviation. Other things before that, too. I can’t be sure, but I think my life here is easier than whatever it was before. Not better, just… easier.”

“I think I see what you mean.”

“I figured you would. I wasn’t sure until I heard you introduce yourself to someone, but I believe I’d heard of you, before. You’re famous, aren’t you?”

Xiao Xingchen grimaced. Famous was pushing it. He’d tried. Song Lan and him had tried, they’d fought for justice, they’d gone after criminals, and for what? The leaders of great sects had not been interested in justice, they hid and protected murderers even, except perhaps for the leader of Qinghe Nie. But even he had eventually given up on forcing the Jin sect to stop harbouring criminals. These days, he hardly ever left his home, Xiao Xingchen had heard, and instead sent his younger brother to deal with the outside world.

Some people might have said Nie Mingjue was right to focus on his own sect, his own affairs, but Xiao Xingchen had left Baoshan Sanren’s mountain because he could not stand its refusal to mingle with the misfortunes of the world. He could not praise another sect that did the same.

“I’ve done a few things here and there,” Xiao Xingchen sighed. “I was foolish, and thought I could save people.”

“Well, you saved me,” Da-ge said. “And you’re protecting the people of this town. Nobody else would have cared to do that.”

Protecting one small, half cursed town, was not what Xiao Xingchen had dreamed of when he’d left his master. He’d wanted to change the world, to establish a new sect that obeyed old principles, to return to the days when talent mattered more than blood. But considering what he’d truly accomplished before reaching Yi-City, the way he’d ruined his only friend’s life…

Maybe what he’d been doing since settling down in Yi-City was good.

Maybe it’d become even better, now that Da-ge was well enough to give a hand.

-

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised Xiao Xingchen as much as it did when a woman came to see him one afternoon and asked if their sect was taking students.

A-Qing, Da-ge, and him had lived in Yi-city for the better part of a year by then. People who used to treat them with suspicion now only saw them as eccentric neighbours. Lately, they were eating better because Da-ge had started making and selling talismans. It did not bring in a lot of money, but enough to have meat sometimes, or to at least buy nice fatty broth which warmed them better than fire as winter came closer. The coffin house had lost its old purpose and become a home for the three of them. In any other town, that would not have been much. But Yi-city was a struggling place, and one desperate for any spark of hope to cling to.

Two sick cultivators were enough to awe people, in a town like that. It was natural that people should think there was a chance to give their children a better future.

Once, Xiao Xingchen would have been truly honoured to be brought a potential student. The education of their future disciples was something Song Lan and him had discussed at length, comparing the methods their own teachers had used and studying what they saw when they visited other sects. 

Little more than a year had passed since his dreams died, and yet they might as well have belonged to another man.

Xiao Xingchen was going to refuse when Da-ge passed by, took a look at the child, and told his mother they’d test her son.

“If he has what it takes, we’ll teach him what we can,” he promised. “Even if he’s not made for cultivation, I can see if he’ll learn how to hold a sword and fight barehanded, and he’ll find work as a guard or a soldier.”

The mother was delighted, and left the boy with them. She promised to bring them dinner that night, which only further worried Xiao Xingchen.

“Is that wise?” he asked Da-ge.

“We’ve done too good of a job on our Night Hunts, and there are no repairs left to do on the house that we can afford. I’m bored. Besides, I like teaching. You will, too. You’re the type.”

In spite of himself, Xiao Xingchen smiled. “If you say so, I dare not dislike it.”

Still he had his doubts. He'd been Baoshan Sanren's youngest student, by many years, and she hadn't welcomed anyone while he studied with her. Teaching was an unknown world to Xiao Xingchen. 

Not so for Da-ge. 

He thoroughly tested the child's innate ability. Upon finding it lacking he said so, but before the boy could be disappointed Da-ge had already assured him that hard work mattered more. The rest of the day was spent teaching the boy to breathe and stand right. He did not take things seriously at first, but Da-ge only had to scold him once for him to behave.

The boy's mother was pleased to hear they would train her son whenever she could spare him, in exchange for some food, and some repairs to their clothes. 

Their little student came again to see them a few days later, a lot more eager to work than he had been for his first lesson. There was something glamorous about being the disciple of a cultivator, Da-ge explained to Xiao Xingchen. Other children likely envied him and had to be begging their parents to give them that same chance. 

Just as he predicted, they were soon brought new students. Da-ge elected to accept all of them, though most would never be more than mediocre at fighting, and inept at cultivation. 

“We need to eat,” Da-ge argued. “And they need to know how to protect themselves. I can’t imagine why anyone chose to build a city here, but it’s there and these people need all the help they can get.”

As many things in the past year, this was entirely unlike the dreams Xiao Xingchen once held. Worse, it went against everything his own education had been. Baoshan Sanren had only allowed on her mountain the most promising of students, children who showed real promise of joining her in immortality. Xiao Xingchen had not planned on being quite so strict when Song Lan and him started their own sect, but it would have made sense to only accept the best among all children they might have met.

But their fledgling sect in Yi-city was not one born of great ideals. Necessity had brought Da-ge, A-Qing, and Xiao Xingchen together, and it was keeping them together. Their sect would have to be more practical than most, more focused on fighting evil daily than on aspirations of immortality. Xiao Xingchen chaffed against that realisation at times, but he could tell he was the only one. Da-ge took to practical matters quite naturally, as if even if the life he’d forgotten, cultivation had been the means to an end rather than a goal in itself. A-Qing herself was initially uninterested in these things, but Da-ge forced her to study with the children, and his practical views won her over in a way Xiao Xingchen philosophical ideals never could.

Which was to say, she liked to hit things hard, and found out that she was good at it. It also gave her a good excuse to stop hiding that she wasn't as blind as she appeared. A-Qing only had to claim that her newly acquired cultivation compensated what her eyes couldn't see, and that was it. Xiao Xingchen pretended to believe her, Da-ge didn't question her, and all was well. 

It wasn't a bad life they'd built together, broken people that they were, surviving in a broken town. It was hard not to be sorry when change found them. 

-

How the sect leader of Lanling Jin ever heard about their tiny sect was a mystery beyond Xiao Xingchen’s understanding. That the same man, recently appointed Chief Cultivator, should invite representatives of the Yi-city sect to a discussion conference was just as extraordinary. Still the invitation arrived to them one afternoon, carried by a man in yellow robes who dropped his letter and left without saying a word to them.

The letter didn’t know their names. It did not even know the name of their sect, because they hadn’t yet decided on one. Da-ge wanted it to be the Xiao sect, but Xiao Xingchen resisted the idea of anything that would imply it belonged to his bloodline. They argued about it sometimes, when there was nothing better to talk about.

If their names were unknown, their deeds had however been noted. The letter spoke of appreciating their efforts to help common people even in a place as remote as Yi-city, and requested that they come speak of their experience at a discussion conference the Jin sect was organising. After causing so much trouble during the Sunshot Campaign, sect leader Jin wrote, it was necessary for all cultivators to remember their duties to common people, and he hoped the Yi-city sect could present an example of that.

It was a well written letter, which managed to both flatter their little sect while also reminding them of the greatness of Lanling Jin. The effect was only slightly ruined because when Da-ge read it aloud he sounded annoyed by it.

“I’m not sure we should go,” he huffed when he was done reading. “Those Jins can’t be trusted.”

“They are not the sect I have the most admiration for,” Xiao Xingchen agreed. “I have not had good experiences with them. But people have told me they have changed these days. Their new sect leader is making amends for previous wrongdoings.”

Da-ge refused to hear more about the Jin sect that day. The disciples needed teaching, he said. Some were at a critical point of their studies, and could not be left alone too long. Xiao Xingchen understood that as a refusal to attend the conference, which he found a relief. He hadn’t yet forgiven the Jin sect for that business with Xue Yang, what it had done to his friendship with Song Lan.

A few days passed without anyone mentioning the conference. Then, one night at dinner, Da-ge announced that they needed to go there.

“It’s an honour to be invited to something like that, no matter how pointless those conferences tend to be,” he gruffly explained. “Word will get out about us. We may get more disciples, and more cases to deal with, too.”

“So you want to go?”

“I certainly don’t,” Da-ge snapped, so offended it made A-Qing laugh. “But it can’t be avoided. No sect can survive on its own.”

“We are not like other sects,” Xiao Xingcheng objected. After a moment of reflection, he added: “I do not want us to be like other sects. They don’t stand for any ideals. They only follow whoever is strongest. First it was the Wen, now it’s the Jin. Tomorrow it may be another sect, just as corrupt, just as respected.”

“All sects are not like that,” Da-ge objected.

“Perhaps not. But enough of them are.”

“Then it’s all the more reason to go,” Da-ge insisted. “I’ve never let bullies dictate how I should live my life. And maybe it’ll inspire some of them to be less cowardly and live up to the ideals upon which their sects were founded.”

Xiao Xingchen was tempted to remind Da-ge that he only remembered a little over a year of his life, and couldn’t know how he’d reacted to bullies before his qi deviation. Pushing against corrupt magistrates and greedy merchants in a tiny forsaken town wasn’t the same as standing against great sects filled with powerful cultivators.

Magistrates and merchants had to at least pretend they obeyed laws.

Cultivators were free to be as cruel as they liked, as long as they were strong.

If he had been wise, Xiao Xingchen would have insisted that they stay away from Lanling. That place, that Jin sect, had already taken from him nearly everything that mattered to him. They had won.

He did not like that they had won.

There was still some pride left in Xiao Xingchen. Not only that, but it was hard to be around Da-ge without feeling like the impossible could be accomplished. The man had recovered from a qi deviation that should have been fatal. He’d healed fully in a place so unhealthy that most of its inhabitants died young. In spite of shattered meridians, with no help but a blind man and a cunning girl, he’d managed to start a sect that, in the span of a year, had been noticed by the greatest sect in the country. Having done all this, why shouldn’t Da-ge shame other sects into straightening their corrupt ways?

“Fine,” Xiao Xingchen relented. “But it’s a long way to Lanling. We’ll have to be on our way soon.”

-

Organising their trip was more complex than Xiao Xingchen had expected, but Da-ge handled it with ease. Their accounting was clean when they left. A-Qing had been instructed on how to teach their disciples while the sect leaders were gone. The disciples themselves were given various tasks to help their shijie around the house. It was hard not to wonder if Da-ge had been in that situation before, but Xiao Xingchen still restrained his curiosity and asked no questions.

If organising took work, their journey itself was not unpleasant. Da-ge had arranged for a merchant to take them part of the way to Lanling, since neither of them could safely fly. Even when that merchant had to go in a direction that did not suit them, just saying that they were cultivators headed for the conference in Lanling helped them secure spots in farmers’ carts once or twice. The rest of the time they just walked, chatting as they did so.

Away from his disciples, Da-ge still thought about the children, and wondered how to best train them. There was a lot he’d forgotten about cultivation, but talking about it helped him remember things, and on that topic he was always eager for conversation. Xiao Xingchen was happy to help, and happier to talk with someone so serious in his desire to learn. It almost disappointed him when they finally made it to Lanling. Forget about sect leaders and rogue cultivators, Xiao Xingchen would have been happy to only discuss cultivation with Da-ge.

It was the day before the conference when they arrived in town. Guessing why they were there, people immediately directed them toward Carp Tower. Because it was almost night, there were no other guests at the gate of the Jin sect. Only a Jin disciple stood there to check invitations. Da-ge and Xiao Xingchen walked up to him, but before they’d so much introduced themselves, there was a sharp cry, followed by a dull thud.

“What was that?” Xiao Xingcheng asked

“That was someone fainting the moment he looked at me,” Da-ge informed him. “The Jin disciple guarding the entrance, to be precise. You’d think he’d seen a ghost.”

Xiao Xingchen mused on that information for a moment.

“Perhaps he believed he did,” he carefully said. “The late sect leader Jin was a lucky man, whose enemies often disappeared at convenient times. As for the new one, Jin Guangyao…”

“That’s a name I’ve heard before,” Da-ge said.

That it hadn’t been in good was implied by his tone, as ferocious as when he’d sometimes threatened bullies and criminals in Yi-city. Xiao Xingchen had met Jin Guangyao in person, once, but hadn’t formed much of an opinion. He’d suspected at the time that it was something Jin Guangyao strove for, and few people ever saw any part of him he did not wish them to notice. Still his reputation was better than his father’s, and he’d had the kindness of inviting even a sect as small and pathetic as theirs to his great conference. Until Da-ge spoke, Xiao Xingchen had been more than willing to give the man a chance.

“We may get in more trouble than we bargained for if we go inside,” Xiao Xingchen noted. “Are you still willing to try?”

“If I have enemies, I want to know them.”

“You may also learn about your past. If these people know who you are, they will likely know what happened before we met.” Xiao Xingchen hesitated. “You are a good man now. We can’t be sure you always were.”

He did not speak of his belief that Da-ge might have killed his younger brother, and that friend of his, that Huan-er. He did not have to. Da-ge understood, as if those two deaths never left his mind. He took a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it out in a sigh.

“I really don’t remember much,” Da-ge said. “Some faces. Feelings. I remember names when I hear them, and whether I liked the person or not. Until today, I was at peace with that. But if there’s a chance I can find out who I used to be, I’ll take it. If I’m told I committed great crimes, I’ll accept punishment. If others have wronged me, I’ll make sure they pay for it. I’m going in. But you don’t have to get involved in this.”

Xiao Xingchen smiled at him.

“I saved your life, so this is my responsibility. If you were an evil man once, it doesn’t matter to me. In the time we’ve lived together you’ve been a good man and a steady friend.”

“Then we’ll go in, my friend, and see who else will faint when they see me.”

Although he could not see it, he was certain Da-ge smiled back at him. He didn’t do so often, according to A-Qing, but when his face was warmer, which suited him.

Lan Xichen snatched his hand away from Nie Huaisang’s shoulder to avoid causing more distress, but remained kneeling next to the other boy.

“Since you know what you did wrong, there’s no point in saying anything more,” Lan Xichen said with a smile he found difficult to keep on when Nie Huaisang looked at him with so much fear. “Next time, you’ll be more careful and share your plans with me, won’t you?”

“There won’t be a next time!” Huaisang sobbed. “I’m never making plans again. And I’m never bothering you again, either, I really meant that. You’ll be rid of me from now on.”

Unable to restrain himself a moment more, Lan Xichen brought his hand back to Nie Huaisang’s shoulder. There was no strong reaction to it that time, because Nie Huaisang was so heartbroken he did not notice.

“But if you don’t make plans, who will help me deal with Wei gongzi and Wangji?” Lan Xichen asked. “I cannot do this alone, you have to help me.”

“Oh, don’t tease me like that, gege! No, I mean… Lan gongzi, please don’t tease me.”

Lan Xichen frowned. Never in his life had he so much disliked being called ‘gongzi’. After weeks of warm ‘Xichen-ge’ and ‘gege’, the more polite address was an unwelcome wall between them.

“I have messed up everything and I know it,” Nie Huaisang bawled. “This time, my life is really ruined. All my friends hate me, and you hate me too, and nobody will help me pass my exams, and I’m going to have to come back here for the rest of my life because I’m too stupid to ever learn, and…” he paused to gasp for breath and shed a few more tears. “And Da-ge will be glad to send me here again, because who’d want me around? Jiang-xiong, that is, Jiang gongzi, is right, anybody who knows me only wants to get rid of me!”

“Now you’re being unfair to your brother,” Lan Xichen gently protested. “I know he’d rather have you home, and…”

“Am I truly wrong?” Huaisang cut him, crying harder until his entire face was soaked. “He’s sent me here three years in a row, when it’s humiliating for him, and the sect, and me that I never pass! Why would he do that if he wasn’t glad to have passed this burden to someone else?”

Without waiting for an answer, Nie Huaisang buried his face against his knees once more, so he could hide his renewed tears.

Even Jiang Cheng might have pitied him at that moment, and regretted the way he’d spoken earlier. Lan Xichen himself certainly regretted not taking more seriously those self-deprecating jokes Nie Huaisang had made in the past.

Desperate to comfort the other boy, Lan Xichen allowed his hand to wander from Nie Huaisang’s shoulder to his hair. Nie Huaisang shivered at the feeling of being soothed and petted, but his sobs did not grow any weaker.

Nie Huaisang's hair was as smooth and silky as it looked. It would have been pleasant to keep touching it that way.

“In previous years, you were rather young to take my uncle’s classes at all,” Lan Xichen distractedly pointed out. “Your brother only sent you here because things were unstable at home after your father’s death. I don’t think anyone would have expected you to pass, and the fact that my uncle welcomed you year after year should prove to you that he understood the true reason for your presence. Now you’re finally the same age as his other students, though, and you’re better able to profit from his lectures. Your grades are much improved this year, aren’t they?”

Nie Huaisang peeked at him, sending him a very humid glare.

“Only because others helped me!”

“You haven’t cheated on every test, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen argued. He wasn't so sure of that, truth be told, and didn't want to be told. “And your homework was done decently well, too.”

“Because you did it for me!” Nie Huaisang argued, still glaring. “I can never do anything right on my own.”

“If that’s how you feel, can I offer to tutor you for the rest of your time here? Together, we’ll get you to pass.”

The scowl on Nie Huaisang’s face turned into him a wounded look as fresh tears stained his face.

“Lan gongzi, you… so you’re really as desperate as your uncle to get rid of me, aren’t you?” He sniffled, and looked away. 

Lan Xichen’s hand stilled on his hair as he wondered how to express how little he wanted Nie Huaisang to go away. Before he could find the right words, the other boy spoke again.

“I can’t blame you,” Nie Huaisang miserably whispered. “I have imposed so much. I’ve bothered you so much! You’ve been so patient that sometimes I thought we were becoming friends, at least a little, but… but you were just being nice. You’re always nice, to everyone, I should have known better. You have better things to do with your time than to help a complete idiot. Why would you see me as a friend? I’m not someone others can like. I know I’m annoying, I know I’m bothersome, I know I’m…”

“I do like you, Huaisang!” Lan Xichen protested.

Never had he been more desperate to hug Huaisang, to kiss him, to do anything, anything at all that would put an end to the other boy’s misery. Only his long habit of self control prevented him from doing something irreparable. That, and the dismissive snort that escaped Nie Huaisang.

“Lan gongzi, please don’t lie,” Huaisang muttered. “What’s there to like about me? I’m stupid, and clumsy, and annoying, and…”

“And very clever when you want to be,” Lan Xichen cut him, wrapping his arm around Nie Huaisang’s shoulders. It wasn’t a hug, but it could easily become one if circumstances demanded it, if Nie Huaisang refused to listen to reason and accept he was appreciated. “You can notice things that others don’t. You are also very passionate, and chatting with you is never boring.”

“Gege, don't mock me!” Huaisang cried out, curling up on himself.

“There you go again, accusing me of being dishonest,” Lan Xichen sighed, though his heart sang to finally be called ‘gege’ again. “If I did not like you, I would say so. If I only wanted to send you home so I'd be rid of you, I would say that. Instead I am telling you I sincerely believe you can pass, and that I want to help you do so, though I will miss you dearly when you are gone.”

Nie Huaisang threw him a suspicious look, one which Lan Xichen answered with all the affection he dared to openly express, and likely some more he'd rather have kept hidden. Let it be seen, unwelcome as it might be. The humiliation of his unrequited feelings was a shame he’d gladly live with, if it could console Nie Huaisang. 

“And what if I fail again, even like that?” Nie Huaisang sniffled. 

“If that happens,” Lan Xichen said, pulling him closer, nearly hugging him now, their faces closer than was comfortable, yet not close enough, “and I do not think it will… since the Cloud Recesses have become truly unbearable to you, I will advise Mingjue-xiong to keep you home, where you will be happy once more. Between the two of us, we will convince him to do what's best for you. Would that suit you?”

“Yes… But also no,” Huaisang replied, his eyes darting to his face, suddenly noticing the closeness between them, then away toward the elegant gardens of the Cloud Recesses. “Home is great, but I will miss you as well. Even if it has done more harm than good, I've really liked scheming alongside you, and spending time with you, and…”

As he said this, his other hand dug inside his sleeve, likely looking for the fan he had dropped when Jiang startled him. Since he was unable to hide, Lan Xichen watched him nervously biting his lip with the air of someone who had said too much, the same air Lan Xichen was sure must have been on his own face.

Lan Xichen pulled him closer and, without thinking, pressed his lips to Nie Huaisang’s temple, the closest piece of skin he could reach.

Nie Huaisang froze for a moment. His eyes turned to Lan Xichen once more, wide and shocked. He made no movement to escape Lan Xichen’s embrace, though. In fact he did not protest at all against that impulsive gesture and Lan Xichen, who feared at first he’d irredeemably ruined what friendship existed between them, started to feel encouraged instead.

“You know, even if you pass, you can still come here as a guest, as a friend,” Lan Xichen said, only to find that he could not raise his voice above a whisper, not now that he was so aware of the soft warmth of Nie Huaisang's skin. “I would be happy to welcome you, and perhaps you’ll like the Cloud Recesses better if you have no lessons to attend. Or else next time I go visit Mingjue-xiong in the Unclean Realm, you’ll let me spend some time with you as well. The end of the lectures does not have to mean the end of everything.”

His eyes growing wider still, Nie Huaisang stared at him for a while. His eyebrows creased in a pleading expression. His eyes fell on Lan Xichen’s lips, and he nodded once before looking away.

Lan Xichen could not resist. He pressed another kiss to Nie Huaisang’s face, this time lower, on a cheekbone so red it almost burned his lips. Nie Huaisang shivered, but still did not scold him for taking unwanted liberties.

“Is it settled, then?” Lan Xichen asked. “Will you let me tutor you?”

“If you want it so much, I can’t deny you,” Nie Huaisang mumbled. “But gege, can I ask…”

Lan Xichen’s hand tightened on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder. If he’d rejoiced too soon, if he was to be rejected…

“Are we friends, or are we… something else?” Nie Huaisang asked, avoiding Lan Xichen’s eyes to instead stare at his mouth with an air of calculated nonchalance that seemed to indicate one answer would please him more, but he’d live either way.

“We can be anything you like,” Lan Xichen replied, terrified of asking for too much, yet just as scared of being denied what he wanted. “I’m happy to be your friend, if that’s all that interest you.”

Huaisang pouted, a little too cutely to not be doing it on purpose.

“I like being your friends,” he mused. “But I think I’d much rather have you kiss me again, if that’s fine. Maybe you should kiss me on the lips, too. I think that’d be nice. It would make me feel very hopeful about my chances to pass, I think. Don't I deserve a little encouragement?”

Lan Xichen chuckled, relieved that Huaisang had recovered from his despair, happy to have helped with that, too. 

As to that request, it was a very reasonable one, and nothing could have pleased Lan Xichen more than to oblige. And yet, after weeks of scheming with Nie Huaisang, he’d learned a thing or two.

“When you pass, I’ll kiss you,” Lan Xichen offered, his face heating up at his own boldness.

Nie Huaisang’s face illuminated with a grin, his eyes wide once more, now with undisguised delight. He looked so happy that, in spite of his red eyes and redder cheeks, Lan Xichen found him immensely tempting. He even leaned forward to give that kiss he'd been asked. He caught himself doing it and shrank back, but not fast enough that Nie Huaisang did not notice.

That bright grin turned mischievous.

“What if I don’t pass?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Your uncle’s tests and quizzes are so hard, gege, and I might fail. I think you should kiss me right now, in case I'm really too stupid to succeed.”

His tone remained light, and he leaned against Lan Xichen’s side, his head coming to rest against the other boy's shoulder with an ease that showed how well he belonged there. Yet there was a tightness in his eyes, a remnant of uncertainty that tugged at Lan Xichen’s heart.

It was a perfectly reasonable argument, after all. Lan Qiren was a difficult teacher to please. And Nie Huaisang’s day had been so miserable! Through mistakes of his own, mostly, but it didn’t lessen Lan Xichen’s desire to soothe and please him. It would have been easy, natural even, to do anything Nie Huaisang asked, so he knew for sure that he wasn’t as unwanted as he’d been believing only moments earlier.

“If I kiss you now, I’ll have nothing to bribe you with when the time comes to study,” Lan Xichen retorted, using all of his willpower to do so.

“I’d think of something,” Huaisang cheerfully retorted. “Gege knows he can count on me to be imaginative!”

He pressed himself closer, the better to slip his arms around Lan Xichen’s waist. The temptation had never been greater, but Lan Xichen forced himself to compromise. He gave in to his impulse to kiss Nie Huaisang, but on the cheek again. Lan Xichen half expected Nie Huaisang to complain that it wasn’t what he wanted, but instead he blushed and looked dazed to get even that much.

That pretty expression, more than anything he could have said, nearly got him the kiss he’d asked.

Maybe Lan Xichen would kiss him at the next good grade he’d get instead of waiting for the end of the lectures, as Nie Huaisang was sure to request.

Or maybe if Nie Huaisang agreed to apologise to Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan for getting them in such trouble, he might ask for a kiss to reward his bravery and likely get it.