She doesn’t push him away again and Xiao Xingchen takes that as progress.

For a few seconds, Baoshan Sanren says nothing, looking past Wei Ying’s robes to where A-Qing had been standing before she sighs. “To think my own granddaughter would tell on me.” There’s exasperated fondness in his grandmaster’s voice and Xiao Xingchen smiles just a little, reaching out and setting his free hand on top of her head when A-Qing reappears at his side.

“We ran into Grandma while we were in town,” Wei Ying continues, picking up where his sister had left off as they guide Baoshan Sanren to sit down at one of the tables, though she waves them off again once she’s settled. Xiao Xingchen pulls Wei Ying back up with him, shaking his head just slightly. Their grandmaster was more stubborn than Wei Ying could ever hope to be. “Me and Lan Zhan told her everything we could think of, but we might’ve forgotten some stuff.”

Xiao Xingchen nods as he listens, glancing back at Lan Wangji as he presents Wen Qing with the now limp qiankun pouch, his arms held behind his back while she examines the contents. Her mouth falls open and she looks back at the four of them crowded around the table and Xiao Xingchen nudges Wei Ying when she starts to walk over, clutching the bag tightly.

“Sect Leader Wen,” Xiao Xingchen says, not bothering to bow this time, “please allow me to introduce my grandmaster, Baoshan Sanren.” Beside him, Wei Ying gives a short wave to his former classmate, smiling even as a look of determination sets across Wen Qing’s face.

“I am grateful for Baoshan Sanren’s help.” Wen Qing says, her voice and face both serious as she moves into a bow, not seeing the way Baoshan Sanren’s head cocks to the side at her, her own face dropping off into something thoughtful, as if she were trying to remember something. “If you would allow it, I was a doctor before my appointment as sect leader, I would like to offer my services as repayment for your aid with the Yin Iron.”

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” Baoshan Sanren says, rather than accepting or declining Wen Qing’s offer, her eyes squinting, “which branch of the Wen sect are you from?” Baoshan Sanren offers her wrist slowly, her eyes flicking between Xiao Xingchen and Wei Ying and Xiao Xingchen feels himself stand up straighter on instinct.

If he were any younger, he might’ve gotten a lecture about wandering headfirst into the trouble involving himself with sects would bring him, he still might, but Wei Ying and A-Qing would have to sit through the lecture with him.

Baoshan Sanren came down harder on he and Cangse than he ever had with either Wei Ying or A-Qing. Xiao Xingchen could only hope that she would continue spoiling the two of them, even if she ended up lecturing him.

“I’m Dafan Wen by birth.” Wen Qing answers, transferring a steady stream of spiritual energy directly into his grandmaster’s wrist, her eyebrows knit together as she works. “I was brought to Qishan when I was very young, Ma’am.” Baoshan Sanren huffs a laugh then, bringing up her knee and resting her elbow on it before she drops her cheek against her hand, dull amusement in her eyes.

“Dafan Wen…” The smile that spreads across his grandmaster’s face is one Xiao Xingchen hadn’t seen before, though the faraway look in her eyes was more familiar. “Wen Liao would be proud of her descendents, but I never thought she would actually break away from her brother.” The smile on Baoshan Sanren stays in place as she shakes her head, though she pulls her wrist back from Wen Qing. “That’s enough, little one, you’ll exhaust yourself if you keep going. I’ll be fine.”

Looking at her, Xiao Xingchen can see that Wen Qing has grown pale, though her energy has barely made a dent in Baoshan Sanren’s color. His grandmaster’s stores of spiritual power ran deep, Xiao Xingchen knew that firsthand.

“Sect Leader Wen, what happened to my grandmaster?” Xiao Xingchen asks, looking between the two of them, an unfamiliar anxiety settling in his chest like a summer storm cloud, thick, dark, and heavy. There had been a handful of times that Baoshan Sanren had returned to the mountain injured and bloody, she’d locked herself away in her own rooms with Cangse until she had recovered then, but Xiao Xingchen had never seen her so spiritually exhausted.

Pursing her lips, Wen Qing stares hard into the table, as if she could burn a hole into it with just her thoughts alone. “The Yin Iron most likely attempted to latch onto her golden core with the intent of draining her spiritual power.” Wen Qing says, dropping down to both knees and sitting at the table properly now. “I saw similar effects while I was caring for my uncle, but he lacked a core as strong as Baoshan Sanren’s. When she crushed it, the resentful energy may have attempted to fight back and harm her in retaliation, but I cannot say without having seen it for myself.”

“Grandmaster Baoshan became agitated while handling the piece.” Lan Wangji speaks quietly, coming to stand beside Wei Ying, their shoulders brushing together. Out of the corner of his eye, Xiao Xingchen thinks he sees his grandmaster’s eyes narrow at the two of them, though Lan Wangji doesn’t back away.

Xiao Xingchen turns to Baoshan Sanren then, her face betraying nothing as she nods along. “It was more spiritual power than I’m used to using on a singular thing.” She confirms, lowering her knee back into its original spot, a frown replacing the smile that had been on her face. “While I was holding it, it felt as though something was trying to dig its claws into me, every instance of irritation and anger was dragged to the front of my mind as if it had just happened.” Baoshan Sanren doesn’t look over as A-Qing begins to press herself into her grandmother’s side, she only lifts her arm and drops it again once A-Qing is comfortable, her own gaze burning into the table.

“Memories I’d sworn to forget nearly drowned me when they came flooding in.” A sigh weighs down Baoshan Sanren’s shoulders as she speaks, and very suddenly, her age shows, though only for a moment. “My mind only cleared when it was dust in my hand.”

“You believe this piece of the Yin Iron has been purified?” Wen Qing asks, holding the bag up and looking at it quizzically, as if she expected it to leap up and sink teeth into her hand.

Experimentally, Xiao Xingchen reaches out for it with his own spiritual energy, but receives no response, not even a spare bit of energy lingering behind to snatch at his own. He’d expected something to be there, something to lurk underneath the calm and answer him at the slightest agitation, but there’s nothing.

“There was resentful energy seeping through the pouch while Grandmaster held it.” Wei Ying thinks out loud, tapping his finger against the bridge of his nose as he looked off to the side, his eyes dark and thoughtful, “Her spiritual power must be stronger than the resentful spirits inside the Iron, but that doesn’t explain how Xue Yang is unaffected by it.”

“We don’t know for sure that he is unaffected by it, A-Ying,” Xiao Xingchen reminds, speaking to his nephew gently, trying to pull him back before he even had the chance to bury himself in research. “We’ve never fought Xue Yang long enough to notice any sort of deterioration and from Sect Leader Wen’s information, we only know that Xue Yang was vicious long before he was involved with the Iron.” Wen Qing’s face goes still as Xiao Xingchen speaks, her hands coming to rest on top of the table.

“I had another reason to speak with all of you.” Wen Qing says quietly, keeping her face neutral, “After the five of you left Nightless City, Xue Yang’s quarters were searched, and at first we found nothing of importance, but when we passed through again, we found evidence that he had been traveling to and from the Yiling Burial Mounds though a teleportation spell.”

The air turns too thick to breathe then, Xiao Xingchen, Wei Ying, and Lan Wangji all looking at each other, though Baoshan Sanren and A-Qing both have their eyes focused on Wen Qing.

“I thought you said no one could survive in the Burial Mounds.” Wei Ying says, looking at his uncle, and Xiao Xingchen bites at his own tongue, wishing he had some sort of explanation for him.

“No one is supposed to.” Baoshan Sanren answers for him, “The five great sects have each sent their own cultivators to try and purify it at some point and not a single one of them have ever come back, even a handful of rogue cultivators have tried it. If he’s taken up residence there, I have to wonder what the resentful energy is doing to the Yin Iron.”

“Still, his surname is Xue…” Wei Ying trails off, casting a glance over at Lan Wangji, who only looks away for a moment, before he looks back at Wen Qing.

“Is there any known connection to Xue Chonghai?” Lan Wangji seems to follow along with Wei Ying’s train of thought without hesitation or question, their arms pressed close together as Wen Qing shakes her head.

“None that I know of now, but I could ask my advisors to look through my uncle’s journals, there might be something there.” Even as she says it, Wen Qing looks doubtful, neutral face bleeding into a frown as she rises from the table, hands placed perfectly in front of her stomach.

“I will do all I can to aid you in apprehending him, but I must take my leave now. My advisors have told me that it is no longer necessary or wise to hide my uncle’s death from the rest of the great sects, we’ll be announcing it within the next week. My presence is required in Qishan.” Wen Qing bows deeply at the waist as she finishes, her eyes hard and genuine as she looks between the five of them, “Whatever you need, please request it.”

Another round of bowing passes between them as Wen Qing leaves, her guards closing ranks around her, their security undoubtedly doubled now.

“She’ll do well.” Baoshan Sanren says from Xiao Xingchen’s side, her eyes sharp as she watches them leave, “She might even pull her sect out of the muck Wen Mao’s grandson left them in.” Xiao Xingchen laughs lightly at that, a quiet smile spreading across his face as he turns around.

“Thank you for your help with the Yin Iron, Grandmaster.” Xiao Xingchen says, bowing to Baoshan Sanren, though she stops him cold, her hand tight on his forearm.

“There are things you and I need to discuss without quite so many eyes on us, Xingchen,” Baoshan Sanren’s voice dips low now, dropping to a hum without becoming a whisper, she moves to the side just slightly, and Xiao Xingchen catches sight of Wei Ying and A-Qing both watching from the dining room, though he couldn’t see where Lan Wangji was. “I’ve taken a room, we can talk there.”

“Whenever you called me into your rooms before, I was always in trouble.” Xiao Xingchen teases, dropping his arms back down to his sides when his grandmaster releases him.

“That was because you listened to Cangse.”

“Just like you told me to when you brought me to the mountain.”

“A-Chen.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

Baoshan Sanren goes upstairs ahead of him, leaving Xiao Xingchen to come stand in front of Wei Ying, A-Qing, and Lan Wangji.

“Is everyone alright?” Xiao Xingchen asks, kneeling down at the only empty place left at the table, though he waves it off when Lan Wangji offers to serve him tea.

“We’re fine, Uncle Xiao,” Wei Ying speaks for the group, though the small frown on his face is enough to make Xiao Xingchen doubt it, “but is Grandma okay?” There’s uncertainty in Wei Ying’s voice that Xiao Xingchen can only smile at, some of the tension dripping out of his shoulders.

“Grandmaster is fine, A-Ying.” Xiao Xingchen answers honestly, reaching over and brushing his thumb over the crease between Wei Ying’s eyebrows, “If anything, she’s only annoyed that she had to ask for help, you forget how when you’re as old as she is.”

He only gets to sit with them for a few more minutes, letting A-Qing push her way into his side for a little while before he has to stand up and leave again, though he drops her into Wei Ying’s lap and tells the three of them to stay close if they leave at all, only then does he climb the stairs after his grandmaster.

Part of him is pulled towards his and Song Lan’s room as he reaches the top of the stairs, wondering if he’d already woken up alone or if he still slept. He would have to fill his husband in if he’d already woken, but if he hadn’t, Xiao Xingchen should let him rest, there would always be time later, wouldn’t there? Breathing in deeply, Xiao Xingchen forces himself to turn and walk down the hall to his grandmaster’s door, feeling all of 12 years old and like he’s been caught swapping out a sect brother’s water for vinegar at his older sister’s request again.

Xiao Xingchen swallows down that feeling as he raises his fist and knocks on the door and enters when Baoshan Sanren calls him, forcing himself to stand up straight as he closes the door behind himself.

His grandmaster is sitting at the table by the time he looks at her, the sight of it doing absolutely nothing to make her appear shorter. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost, come and sit, I won’t have you standing against the wall like a statue.” Baoshan Sanren’s voice lacks it’s usual sternness when she speaks, but Xiao Xingchen won’t make her repeat herself, walking forward and dropping down to his knees across from her. A cup of tea has already been poured and sat at his place.

“If I get lost, I only need to stay where I am and you’ll find me,” Xiao Xingchen says, staring into the dark liquid, “that’s what you always told me.”

“My A-Chen has always had a good memory.” Baoshan Sanren says, lifting her own cup to her mouth and taking a deep drink. “You and Cangse balanced each other well that way. I worried about you after she left, but then you left too. It only proved my point.”

“I missed her.” Xiao Xingchen confesses, still unable to drink his tea, “I was able to meet her again, but I miss her still.” His grandmaster smiles ruefully then, a chuckle shaking her shoulders.

“Wei Ying has her face, it’s hard to look at him sometimes, but it’s harder to hold him at arm’s length.”

“He acts like her, too, you should hear about the tricks he played while he studied in Gusu.” Xiao Xingchen allows himself to smile now, his hand at least reaching for his tea now. He expects another chuckle to leave his grandmaster, but silence is his only answer.

“Do you trust Lan Wangji?” She asks him point blank after a few beats of silence, and Xiao Xingchen nearly drops his cup back onto the table.

He only barely manages to set it back onto the table, dropping his hands back down to his thighs and digging his nails into them. “I trust Lan Wangji as much as I could trust someone with A-Ying’s heart. I believe them to be a good match, Grandmaster.” Saying it that way feels too simple, as though he’d taken a single look at Lan Wangji and decided that he was good for his nephew, like he hadn’t considered the possibility of one or both of them breaking each other’s hearts.

“They are young, Xingchen, and Lans only love once, you know that don’t you?” Regret and envy both run underneath his grandmaster’s words like a river, her dark eyes turning wistful. Xiao Xingchen had heard the story of the Lan sect’s founder, Lan An, and at first, he’d thought it was romantic, he’d only come to understand the tragedy of it when he was older. “They could grow apart from each other.”

“They could also grow together.” Xiao Xingchen argues quickly, regaining his grip on his cup and forcing himself to drink the tea, though now, it was only lukewarm.

“Xingchen-”

“Mother-” Xiao Xingchen starts but catches himself, his head snapping up from his lap and to Baoshan Sanren’s face, his eyes wide as he breathes in deeply.

Xiao Xingchen expects his grandmaster’s face to be red when he looks up, he expects her to be annoyed with him at the very least, but he’s only met with the softest face she’s ever turned onto him. “You truly have faith in them, don’t you?”

Swallowing thickly, Xiao Xingchen nods, setting both of his hands on the table where she could see them now. “I do, I believe they compliment each other.” Xiao Xingchen refuses to allow himself to get quieter, reaching forward and refilling Baoshan Sanren’s cup before his own, his eyes flicking up to her face.

She looks thoughtful, as if she were turning something over and over in her mind like a particularly shiny stone. “They deserve a chance, if you have such faith in them.” It’s an admission if Xiao Xingchen had ever heard one leave his grandmaster’s mouth, her thumb running over the rim of her cup. “Your faith in them won’t stop me from giving that boy a shovel talk, no matter how many times you call me mother. It’s my right as Wei Ying’s grandmother.”

All the tension seeps out of Xiao Xingchen right then as he laughs, his shoulders dropping. “You gave one to Zichen, I’d hate for Lan Wangji to feel left out.” He and Song Lan had been married for a year and a half before he’d told Xiao Xingchen the specifics of the shovel talk he’d gotten from Baoshan Sanren.

Xiao Xingchen had only been able to look at him with wide eyed horror and then embarrassment.

~

“Are you gonna marry Xian-gege?” Qing Sanren asks as she comes to stand just inside Lan Wangji’s room, and Lan Wangji sets his hand across the strings of his guqin to silence them as he turns to face her. He hadn’t heard her come in and he’d only left the door to his room open because he and Wei Ying had been together earlier. Lan Wangji was determined to follow the rules set by Wei Ying’s uncles.

Qing Sanren watches him from the doorway, neither coming in nor running away now that she’s been caught while Lan Wangji struggles to answer her question.

“Did you hear me? I asked if you and Xian-gege are gonna get married.” She repeats herself, though hearing it again doesn’t make it any easier for Lan Wangji to answer her.

“One day, I would like to.” Lan Wangji answers haltingly, “If Wei Ying wanted the same.” Lan Wangji wouldn’t pretend that he hadn’t thought about it, but even in his own daydreams, their wedding was still a handful of years away.

His answer though, doesn’t seem to be what Qing Sanren wanted to hear from him, her face dropping off into a small frown. “Xian-gege said that Baba and A-Die got married when A-Die met Grandma, but you just met her, so shouldn’t you get married to Xian-gege now?” Blinking, Lan Wangji considers the words coming from Wei Ying’s seven year old sister, panic beginning to leave him as he lets his hand fall off the guqin.

“Your fathers were adults when they got married.” Lan Wangji explains simply, “Wei Ying and I are not yet.” That should be the end of it, but Qing Sanren lingers in his doorway still, her head cocked to the side as she considers it.

“Do you have to be a grown up to be married?” Qing Sanren asks, taking a further step into Lan Wangji’s room.

“Typically.” Lan Wangji answers, though another thought crosses his mind, “Sometimes two people might elope.” He lifts his hands back to the guqin strings then, expecting Qing Sanren to walk away and hopefully close the door behind her, but she doesn’t.

“What’s that mean?” Taking his hands away again, Lan Wangji debates whether or not to answer her, surely there wouldn’t be any harm in just telling her what it meant?

“It means that two people run away to get married, usually without their family’s permission.” Before his uncle had warmed to Wei Ying, Lan Wangji had considered the possibility of elopement, though by the end of Wei Ying’s time in Gusu, his uncle had warmed to him as much as he ever would.

Qing Sanren looks as though she’s about to ask another question, but Wei Ying appears behind her then, a sneaky smile spreading across his face as he lifts a single finger to his lips when Lan Wangji catches his eye.

Lan Wangji feels his chest warm almost immediately and manages to betray nothing, his fingers beginning to move over the guqin’s strings again. The corners of his mouth pull upwards when Wei Ying catches his sister up in his arms with a short shout, holding onto her and refusing to let her scramble away from him.

“Xian-gege!” She cries, letting herself hang limp in her brother’s arms, choosing to act as dead weight rather than fight against him like she usually did. “Baba told you not to scare me anymore!”

“That was yesterday!” Wei Ying argues with a laugh, and Lan Wangji feels something in his chest soften. “Besides, I don’t see Uncle Xiao anywhere, do you Lan Zhan?” Lan Wangji shouldn’t help Wei Ying tease his sister, he knows that, but once wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“I do not, Qing Sanren is at her brother’s mercy.” Lan Wangji waves his guqin away, allowing himself to smile at Wei Ying as he finally releases Qing Sanren from his arms. She sprints away from him like an angry cat, her footfalls heavy in the hallway until they fade away completely.

Wei Ying stands in the doorway to watch her for a moment longer, the smile still on his face when he turns to look at Lan Wangji again. “She’s going to get us back for that, you know.”

“Mn, I will keep Wei Ying safe from his sister.” Lan Wangji promises, moving to the side when Wei Ying comes to sit down next to him, not caring one little bit about the three unoccupied sides of the table. Lan Wangji is half joking and half serious, he’d already seen what kind of tricks Qing Sanren was inclined to play.

Wei Ying laughs though, his smile making Lan Wangji flush with all the warmth of sitting in the sun. “My Lan Zhan takes such good care of me, defending me from A-Qing like that.” Wei Ying leans into him, their shoulders pressing together. The warmth and light pressure of it is welcome, Lan Wangji feels himself leaning into it before he can think twice about it.

“Were you playing something before A-Qing came in?” Wei Ying asks, pulling himself away from Lan Wangji by a fraction of an inch, though Lan Wangji misses him right away. “I thought I heard you, but I couldn’t figure out if you were learning a new cultivation piece.”

“Not cultivation music.” Lan Wangji answers, and says nothing else, though Wei Ying expects him to.

“Were you playing for fun, then? I didn’t think the Lan sect did that.”

“We do, but this song is not one of them.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying whines, crashing his shoulder into Lan Wangji’s again, though this time it’s gone just as quickly as it came. “At least tell me what it is!”

“Not yet, it isn’t finished.”

“But you’ll tell me when it is?”

“Mn.”

~

Song Lan is sitting up in bed by the time Xiao Xingchen returns, dragging a hand through his unbound hair to comb it back as Xiao Xingchen shuts the door. “Where did you go? I woke up and you were gone.” Song Lan asks, still sounding as if he were half asleep.

Xiao Xingchen sits at the foot of the bed, their knees pressing together as he tries his best to try and summarize the last few hours. “Sect Leader Wen came to offer her condolences.” Xiao Xingchen starts, keeping things simple before they became a complicated knot of words. Song Lan nods along with it, his face falling for just a moment before he pulls it back, allowing Xiao Xingchen to take his hand and hold onto it. “And then A-Ying and Lan Wangji brought my grandmaster with them when they came back from their walk with A-Qing.”

For all the effort Xiao Xingchen had put into saying it casually, he still feels Song Lan’s hand tense in his, any and all sleepiness evaporating from his face. “Baoshan Sanren is here? She’s not hurt, is she?” His husband’s words come out quickly and Xiao Xingchen waves them off just as fast, explaining what had happened as best he could and hoping that he wasn’t forgetting any details in the meantime.

By the time he’s finished, both of Song Lan’s hands are wrapped around one of his, while the other strokes through Song Lan’s hair. It’s meant to soothe him, but Xiao Xingchen isn’t sure it’s working as he watches his husband process the mountain of information he’d just piled in front of him.

“Where do we go from here? The Burial Mounds or Gusu?” Song Lan asks finally, his hands tightening, his eyes burning into the quilt.

“I’m not sure yet,” Xiao Xingchen confesses, shaking his head and letting his free hand drop to his husband’s cheek, “usually I discuss this sort of thing with my husband, but I thought it better to let him rest a while longer.”

Song Lan chuckles, but doesn’t smile, instead, he takes one hand off of Xiao Xingchen’s and lifts it to his other wrist, his fingers curling tightly around it. “Your husband can’t sleep without you anymore.” Song Lan admits, stroking his thumb over Xiao Xingchen’s pulse. “We should go to Gusu first, we can’t risk him getting his hand on another piece of the Yin Iron.” Nodding, Xiao Xingchen strokes his thumb back and forth over the apple of Song Lan’s cheek.

“Are you hungry? I could have something brought up.” He offers, the need to fret and look after his husband coming back the second their next destination is decided. He’d eaten with his grandmaster, and once he’d been allowed to leave her room, he’d made sure A-Qing, Wei Ying, and Lan Wangji had all eaten, making his rounds until he’d finally been able to return to his own room.

“Just tired,” Song Lan says, shaking his head and looking past Xiao Xingchen again.

“Should I put you back to bed now that I’m back?” Xiao Xingchen smiles sadly, he knows he should ask Song Lan to try and eat something, something small, but he can’t make himself deny his husband rest when he asks for it.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Song Lan asks, not fighting back in the smallest way when Xiao Xingchen begins to press him back down into the bed, his arms reaching up and wrapping around Xiao Xingchen to pull him down as well.