Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something was wrong.

Wei Wuxian could feel it in his bones, and he couldn’t explain why. He instinctively and discreetly surveyed his surroundings and found no immediate threat, no visible danger even though something felt out of place. The world is too still, the birds too quiet.

Yet, for a moment, he let it slip away, distracted by the warmth of his family around him.

Sizhui laughed beside him, recounting a story about his recent night hunt with his friends. His voice was so bright and so full of life that Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel the burst of happiness from his chest.

Lan Zhan walked just a little bit ahead, elegant as always. Though his face was calm, Wei Wuxian caught the faintest curve of his lips—a quiet joy reserved only for moments like these.

Wei Wuxian’s heart swelled at the sight. This is his family. No one's going to take them away. Not when they're together like this. Happy and perfect like this. Everything is fine.

Everything is about to not get fine.

Wei Wuxian’s steps faltered. This felt familiar, he thought. A fragment of a memory long buried but never really forgotten, the moment of calmness just before everything went downhill that ultimately led to his first demise.

Lan Zhan stopped, his expression sharpening. He’d felt it too now, that subtle shift in the air. Sizhui’s laughter died as he glanced between them, his own instincts kicking in.

And then it happened.

The first arrow sliced through the air, a faint whistle that came too late.

It struck Sizhui in the chest.

His eyes widened in shock, his hand flying to the shaft that had pierced his heart. His lips parted as though to speak, but all that came out was a strangled gasp.

“Sizhui!” Wei Wuxian screamed, momentarily frozen at the sight of his bloodied son.

Wei Wuxian had just the presence of mind to cast a quick spell to shield the three of them from the onslaught of incoming arrows, but not fast enough to block the second arrow that struck.

This one should have hit Wei Wuxian, but Lan Zhan quickly stepped forward and lunged towards him, his body twisting to shield both his husband and son. The arrow buried itself deep in his back.

Lan Zhan staggered, blood blooming across his white robes.

“No!” Wei Wuxian’s scream echoed through the night, the sound raw and full of pain. He caught Lan Zhan just before he fell, his one arm wrapping around his husband's trembling frame.

Sizhui crumpled to the ground, his hand clutching his father weakly. “Baba…” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I…s-sorry” His fingers twitched once before going still, his body limp.

Sizhui's death was instant.

“Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan’s voice drew him back, steady and calm despite the blood trickling from his lips.

Lan Zhan lifted his trembling hand, cupping Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “Look at me,” he said softly, voice strained. “It’s not your fault. It’s… not…”

Wei Wuxian shook his head violently, tears now streaming uncontrollably down his face. “Don't. Don't you dare, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan only smiled– faint and bittersweet. It's as if he already knew what Wei Wuxian cannot accept. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing Wei Wuxian's bloodied hand to his lips in a final kiss.

He didn't need to ask Wei Wuxian to live. He knew it would be cruel, a burden his zhiji cannot bear. Lan Zhan knew him–the depth of their bond, their love, their forever. And he knew that, had the roles been reversed, he wouldn't want to live either.

“We’ll find each other again, my love..”

It is this understanding that allowed Lan Zhan to close his eyes. To let go.

Wei Wuxian shattered as he clutched them both–Lan Zhan and Sizhui–his family, his entire world, now lifeless in his arms. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.

What the hell just happened?

Darkness began to swirl all around him, fury ravaged him from the inside.

He gently lowered Lan Zhan and A-yuan’s lifeless bodies to the ground, his hands shaking as he stood. His vision blurred, but no longer from the tears. This was something else. Raw, unrelenting fury.

The assassins began to emerge from the shadows. Their faces were masked, but Wei Wuxian could feel their cold satisfaction as they moved closer.

They don't know the monster they just summoned.

Wei Wuxian laughed. It was a low, unhinged sound that made the assassins pause as dark energy began to swell around him, black mist curling around him like a storm unleashed. His eyes gleamed with a fury that had been buried too long, but never forgotten.

Just as easily, the Yiling Laozu has returned.

"How. Fucking. Dare. You,” the Yiling Laozu said, barely a whisper but charged with so much rage, it forced the wind to carry it to the assassins’ ears.

“Did you forget who I was?"

The assassins looked at each other, wide-eyed in panic and hands trembling.

Before they could even think to retreat, the ground beneath them erupted in a violent burst of dark energy, clawing their way up from the ground, wrapping around their ankles, and forcefully stretching their arms in the air. They all tried to break free but couldn't as they were firmly held in place by tendrils of black smoke that seemed too happy to be freed once again, too eager to devour.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

And then, a single note from Chenqing vibrated through the sky, making everyone’s hair rise. Not a moment later, blood sprayed in all directions as resentful energy tore each and every limb that it could touch.

The last thing they saw was red.

The world was quiet once again as death faded into nothingness. It was finished just as quickly and as sudden as it had started.

Wei Wuxian stood alone, surrounded by scattered limbs and blood and whatever was left of his wrath. His fingers tightened into fist, and his spiritual energy rose once more. The pure, distilled rage that boiled in Wei Wuxian's being almost made him want to summon these attackers to life just so he could kill these bastards once again. And again. And again until his fury is calmed.

But it wouldn't be enough. It will never be enough. Their deaths wouldn't bring Lan Zhan and Sizhui back.

But his would.

Not long after, three things activated in quick succession.

Protection array. Lan signal flare. A forbidden ritual.

"Forgive me, my beloved.”

Chapter Text

"No invitation, no entry."

"Lan er gongzi, we—” Jiang Cheng began, glancing at Wei Wuxian, expecting him to jump in and take over as he usually would.

But Wei Wuxian stood frozen in place.

Jiang Cheng frowned. "Wei Wuxian!" he barked.

Wei Wuxian startled, blinking rapidly as if shaking off a trance. His surroundings rushed back into focus, and his breath hitched as the world narrowed down to where Lan Wangji stood, proud and unrecognizing.

"No invitation, no entry," Lan Wangji repeated, pulling Wei Wuxian completely out of his stupor.

A storm of emotions crashed into Wei Wuxian all at once, threatening to tear him apart. One moment, he was cradling Lan Zhan’s lifeless body. The next, he is here, face to face with this pristine young man, untouched by war, by chaos. By him.

His mind struggled to process the sudden shift, the disorienting jolt from a nightmare of loss to this– familiar but also, not quite. The Cloud Recesses stood as pristine and untouched as he remembered, a stark contrast to the bloody mess he came from.

The weight of it all nearly broke Wei Wuxian. He wanted to run—either away from the unbearable emotions threatening to overwhelm him or toward Lan Wangji, to hold him and never let go.

The last shreds of his self-control barely managed to keep him rooted in place. But it didn’t stop him from whispering:

“You’re here.”

Everyone stared, confused.

Without thinking, his feet moved. He staggered forward, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, like he was moving through water. His heart thudded painfully, hope and grief crashing together in a violent storm inside him.

“Lan Zhan…” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but heavy with emotion.

Jiang Cheng caught his arm immediately. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

Wei Wuxian barely heard him. The words bounced off his consciousness, distant and meaningless. Even Jiang Yanli’s soft and concerned voice was promptly ignored.

“You’re here. Lan Zhan, you’re really here,” Wei Wuxian kept murmuring, his voice trembling as he inched forward, his heartbeat hammering in his chest. His vision blurred, and he realized, distantly, that he must be crying. But he couldn’t look away.

Lan Zhan is alive. Lan Zhan is here. And he will keep it that way, no matter the cost. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes glued to that one person that he once called his husband.

Still lost in a daze, and driven by a desperate need to get close, Wei Wuxian managed to shake off Jiang Cheng’s grip to take a step forward. He needed to feel his breath, to touch his hands, to hear his heartbeat. He needed to confirm that Lan Zhan is real, that he is truly alive.

Lan Wangji’s gaze shifted. For a breathless moment, Wei Wuxian thought he’d see something. A flicker of recognition, of warmth, of the bond they had. Anything.

But there was nothing.

Lan Wangji’s eyes remained cold, distant. The impassive mask never wavered. As Wei Wuxian took another shaky step forward, Lan Wangji’s body tensed. And then, as if Wei Wuxian’s very presence was something offensive, Lan Wangji stepped back.

The simple, instinctive motion shattered something inside Wei Wuxian. Panic clawed at him. He couldn't do this. Not again.

Please.

“No, don’t…” Wei Wuxian begged, shaking his head as tears continued to stream down his face, trying to reach for a promise that hasn't been made yet. “Don’t do this. You promised–”

Before he could finish, Wei Wuxian felt the weight of everything crashing down on him. His knees buckled, his body giving out under the unbearable pressure. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he couldn’t find enough air. The memories, the grief, the sight of Lan Wangji stepping away—they suffocated him, pulling him into the dark.

The image of his lifeless husband flashed in his mind just before everything turned black.

—

When Wei Wuxian finally woke up, he was back in his room. Lying in a bed, he felt the sheets cool against his skin, but his body felt heavy, like he’d been dragged through a storm. The faint sounds of conversation filtered into his ears, his vision clearing just enough to see the two familiar faces standing at the foot of his bed.

Jiang Cheng stood there, arms crossed, face contorted in what seems to be a mix of frustration and worry. Jiang Yanli, her expression softer, looked down at him with concern.

“What is wrong with you?”

Wei Wuxian groaned. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, Sh– Shijie. Shouldn’t you both be in class?” It felt wrong, the way he addressed Jiang Yanli. It's been ages since he called her that. And it no longer feels the same. But he had to pretend.

“I asked you first.” Jiang Cheng snapped.

“I’m fine.” Wei Wuxian blinked, trying to gather himself. He could still feel the cold weight of Lan Zhan’s rejection from moments (days) ago, the memory of it clinging to him like an iron chain. The thoughts swirled in his mind, and his chest tightened, but he didn’t let it show. Not anymore.

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms, exasperation practically radiating off him. “Yes, being unconscious for three days definitely qualifies as fine. Seriously, Wei Wuxian. You’ve been in Cloud Recesses for five minutes, and you’re already embarrassing our sect. Don’t you have any shame?”

Wei Wuxian wanted to shoot back with a snarky retort but he stopped himself promptly before he opened his mouth. Not worth it, he thought.

Yanli’s hand rested gently on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, her voice soft with worry. “A-xian, are you alright? You collapsed, and—”

“I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian interrupted, brushing her hand away without looking at her. His voice was low, distant. “It’s nothing. I just... I’m tired.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, stepping forward, his tone dripping with annoyance. “Tired? That’s your excuse now? Just like that, huh?"

Wei Wuxian didn’t even glance at him. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice flat, his gaze still averted. “You want answers? I don’t have them.”

Jiang Yanli frowned, clearly torn between her brother’s frustration and Wei Wuxian’s obvious deflection. “A-xian...please, talk to us. We’re worried.”

But he only shook his head slowly, too exhausted to continue the conversation. “I said I'm fine. I need some air so please excuse me.”

He dragged himself out of bed, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s huff of annoyance, and Jiang Yanli’s worried looks and stepped outside. Fresh air. That’s all he needed.

Except he barely made it a few steps before nearly crashing into a familiar figure.

“Sect Leader Lan.” Wei Wuxian forced a polite bow, his pulse quickening.

“Wei-gongzi,” Lan Xichen greeted, his voice calm as ever. “Are you feeling better?”

Never, Wei Wuxian thought but smiled faintly. “This one thanks Sect Leader Lan for his concern, but I’m fine. Just a bit exhausted.”

Lan Xichen’s serene gaze lingered on him, seeing right through the lie. But he didn’t press.

“Let’s take a walk.”

It wasn’t really a suggestion. Wei Wuxian sighed internally. He’d barely escaped one interrogation only to stumble into another. Great.

“Of course.”

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing down familiar stone paths. Wei Wuxian scrambled for an excuse, any excuse to avoid what was surely coming. But before he could say a word, Lan Xichen broke the silence.

“How do you know my brother?”

Wei Wuxian nearly tripped. Blunt, he thought, jaw tightening.

“Forgive me, I don’t understand,” he replied, slipping into feigned confusion like a second skin.

Lan Xichen didn’t flinch. “Wei-gongzi, do you remember the events before you passed out? The reports said you acted…strangely. You called Wangji by his given name. You’ve been screaming his name in your sleep. You said…” Lan Xichen’s voice softened, though his gaze remained sharp. “You said you loved him. Repeatedly.”

Wei Wuxian felt the words like a punch to the gut. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing out loud.

Perfect. Just perfect.

“Ah, so that’s what happened,” he chuckled weakly, scratching the back of his head. “Forgive me, Sect Leader Lan. I don’t quite recall why I passed out… or why I’ve been calling out—uh—your brother’s name.”

Lan Xichen didn’t buy it. Wei Wuxian could see it in the slight narrowing of his eyes, the barely-there frown.

“I can’t be held responsible for my nightmares, can I?” Wei Wuxian continued, pushing ahead with the charade. “I’m sorry I can’t explain more. Did your healers figure out what caused me to act that way?”

Silence. The tension stretched thin, taut between them. But finally, Lan Xichen let it go with a soft sigh.

“I see.”

Wei Wuxian exhaled quietly, shifting the conversation before it could circle back.

“Sect Leader Lan…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, “Have you ever thought about strengthening the wards around Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Xichen raised a brow, clearly taken aback by the sudden topic change. “That’s an idea. Why do you ask?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged casually, keeping his tone light, though his eyes were sharp. “I bet I could break your wards in no time, and I’m not even a strong cultivator. Isn’t that concerning? And what if there’s an attack? A Wen attack, perhaps?”

Lan Xichen’s expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of tension in his eyes. His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword. “I doubt the Wens would dare. But… I will consider your words.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, satisfied. He didn’t expect an immediate response but hoped Lan Xichen would take the warning seriously. After all, Cloud Recesses was a place he’d come to care for deeply, even if the life he once had here felt like a distant memory.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Lan,” he said, allowing himself a small, genuine smile.

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment longer, then inclined his head. “Wei-gongzi, you are very strange. I hope you enjoy your stay in Cloud Recesses.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t respond, watching Lan Xichen walk away. Who said anything about staying? he thought, his gaze lingering on the retreating figure.

—

Wei Wuxian skipped the lectures entirely, his footsteps quick and purposeful as he headed straight for Caiyi Town. He needed supplies, yes—but more importantly, he needed to avoid any more interrogations.

By nightfall, his bag was weighed down with talisman papers, cinnabar, and a few bottles of Emperor’s Smile. The inn was quiet, the room small and simple, but he knew sleep would elude him. It always did.

Sitting by the window, Wei Wuxian tried to focus on the scrap of paper in front of him, his pen scratching against it as he attempted to plan for this second chance he’d been given. The chance to make things right. The chance to stop the inevitable from happening.

No, not everything could be fixed, could it? His thoughts spiraled as he sat there, the ink drying on the paper. All he ever truly wanted was to save his husband and son. The rest of the world could burn, if it meant he could have his family back.

Wait—no, that wasn’t it. He had to remind himself. He could never get back the family he lost. He couldn’t bring them back, no matter how hard he tried.

He could, and would burn the world if it meant saving them. If it meant seeing his family again.

Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew, deep down, he’d already used up the last bit of his luck when he made it back in this life. Back to where it all began—when their paths first crossed. His second chance.

Wei Wuxian sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on him. Tears threatened to spill again, but he blinked them away. How could he go back to his husband? How could he be close to him again, without acting like the husband he once was?

Teasing. Serving. Cooking. Night hunting. Music playing. Living side by side. They had been inseparable, and now... now he had to keep his distance. The ache in his chest flared, a painful reminder of how much he had lost.

He wiped his eyes, frustrated by the vulnerability creeping in. How was he supposed to bear it all? To stay near his husband without being his husband?

Attempt the impossible, right?

As the moon climbed higher, Wei Wuxian worked tirelessly—inking talismans, carefully drawing miniature arrays, sipping wine to dull the ache that wouldn’t go away. It was the only way to keep his mind from drifting. Because if he stopped, even for a moment, he would think about them.

His husband. His son.

Work now. Cry later. Mourn forever.

It was then, amidst his self-inflicted distraction, that a thought cut through his mind—sharp, bitter, and haunting. This must be what Lan Zhan felt like when I died.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered softly to the stillness of the room, his voice barely above a murmur. “I promise you... you won’t ever go through that again.”

—

By dawn, he was already on his way back to Cloud Recesses, his energy untouched despite the sleepless night. But as he approached the gates, raised voices stopped him in his tracks.

Wen Chao.

Wei Wuxian’s lips curled into a smirk.

He activated a concealing talisman and watched from the shadows.

“This is the invitation of the Wen Clan of Qishan!” Wen Chao declared, attempting to set the poor Lan guard on fire.

But before it could hit, it was blocked by a talisman that was promptly thrown their way, saving the guards. The Wen guards looked around in panic, trying to identify the source when a voice sliced through the chaos. “And this is why you never get invited anywhere, hah!”

The soldiers froze. Before Wen Chao could react, Wei Wuxian moved—fast as the wind, his sword pressed against Wen Chao’s throat.

“It is so not nice to see you again.” Wei Wuxian whispered, his voice mocking.

He gestured for the Lan guards to retreat inside.

Swords were drawn. Wei Wuxian didn’t flinch.

In response and to the Wens' confusion, the air around them thickened with power and intensity that made the ground beneath them tremble.

“Put them down,” Wen Chao stammered to his men, fear shining in his eyes.

“Good.” Wei Wuxian’s smile turned lethal. “Now leave. If I ever see you or your brother’s face on this mountain again, you’ll die—in the cruelest way possible. Are we clear?”

Wen Chao nodded frantically.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Wei Wuxian added, his voice a dangerous purr. “I know why you’re here. But sorry, the Lans don’t have what you’re looking for. I do. And soon, I’ll have the rest. Tell your father I’ll be seeing him soon.”

Wen Chao bolted, his soldiers scrambling after him.

Wei Wuxian watched them go, shaking his head. “Coward.”

He was about to drop his concealment when a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Who are you?”

He turned, heart stuttering. Lan Wangji stood there, golden eyes sharp and unyielding.

Oh, gods. Why must he be this beautiful!

“Nobody.” Wei Wuxian said, avoiding Lan Zhan's eyes.

“Lying is forbidden.”

“Yes, well, I’m not a Lan. And I’m not technically in Cloud Recesses right now, so I can lie all I want.”

“Ridiculou—”

Wei Wuxian didn’t let him finish. He met Lan Wangji’s gaze for a heartbeat longer than he should have, then activated a teleportation talisman, disappearing with a wink.

When he landed, the chill in the air told him exactly where he is.

The Cold Springs.

He barely had time to shift back to his original appearance before a burst of blue energy shot toward him.

He stood his ground. As expected, the energy passed through him harmlessly.

“Who are you?” came the voice he was waiting for.

Wei Wuxian sighed, kneeling before Lan Yi. “This disciple is Wei Ying, courtesy name Wuxian. Please forgive this one’s intrusion—I mean no harm.”

Lan Yi’s sharp gaze flicked to his bare forehead, confusion evident. “But…you are not a Lan.”

Wei Wuxian smiled smugly. “I am, though. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to break your cave’s barrier. Or stand unharmed by your chord assassination technique.”

Lan Yi narrowed her eyes but said nothing, waiting.

Wei Wuxian met her gaze, letting sincerity color his voice. “I came for the Yin Iron. Would you trust me with it?”

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian wasn't sure how long he had been inside the cave, but he was relieved everything had gone smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that Lan Yi had even allowed him to take the bunnies to the back hill. If he couldn’t be beside Lan Zhan to make him happy in this lifetime, at least the bunnies could.

This time, Wei Wuxian made sure to keep the bunnies' ribbons. When Lan Zhan finds them, he’d know they belonged in the Cloud Recesses. Hopefully, that would be enough for Lan Zhan to keep them.

Lan Zhan... He really needed to stop calling him that, even in his head. This Lan Zhan wasn’t his husband, no matter how much he told himself that Lan Zhan was his in every lifetime.

And this wasn’t their Cloud Recesses. It hurts to be here, in a place that looked so much like the home he had known and loved but wasn’t quite right. This wasn’t his home. Not this time.

He doubted he’d ever get used to it—not while he was here. Wei Wuxian winced at the painful reminder that he couldn’t stay.

A few more days, he thought, his fingers drifting to the pouch at his waist, where the Yin Iron was now safely hidden and sealed to avoid detection.

He still couldn’t believe Lan Yi had trusted him with it. Or maybe she hadn’t? Perhaps she simply had no choice, knowing how weak she was becoming. He didn't even have to lie to convince her. He only repeated the things she herself had told them in the past, and she had... given him the Yin Iron. Just like that.

She did make him swear, of course.

“I don’t know how you know the things you just said,” Lan Yi had murmured, studying him with those wise, ancient eyes. “And they weren’t wrong. You are unfamiliar to me, and yet familiar, enough that my instincts tell me I can trust you. So I will. But can you promise me one thing?”

She had paused, her voice steady despite her frailty. “Swear on your life, and on everyone you hold dear, that you will do your best to protect the Lan Clan.”

Wei Wuxian had raised three fingers without hesitation.
“I swear it,” he had vowed, his voice sincere.

Satisfied with how his day had gone, Wei Wuxian made his way back to his room, hoping to get some rest. He had used quite a bit of energy on his morning adventures; maybe, just maybe, he’d fall asleep easier this time.

Or not. Because Jiang Cheng decided now was a good time to pester him.

“Where were you?” Jiang Cheng scowled as he entered the room.

“Nowhere important,” Wei Wuxian replied dryly.

“Don’t lie. You went out of the Cloud Recesses yesterday, and no one knows why. You can’t just come and go like you live here. What will they think of our sect?”

Wei Wuxian sighed, already feeling the fatigue settle deeper. He no longer had the energy to deal with Jiang Cheng the way he used to.

“I wasn’t out of the Cloud Recesses. I walked, got lost, fell asleep, walked some more, and eventually found my way back.”

“The guards saw you leave through the gates—”

“And did they see me pass the gates when I returned?” Wei Wuxian cut him off impatiently. “Please, can we talk about this tomorrow? All this walking has made me so tired, I can’t even think straight.”

With that, he closed his eyes, effectively dismissing Jiang Cheng.

“Jerk,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

Wei Wuxian pretended not to hear, staying still until he felt Jiang Cheng leave. As a precaution, he activated a few silencing talismans around his room. When he screamed in his sleep again, no one would hear. No one needed to be bothered.

Satisfied, he finally allowed himself to drift into an uneasy sleep.

—

The next few days passed in a blur. Wei Wuxian thought his plan was going well, keeping a low profile in the Cloud Recesses. If the old him had been arrogant, obnoxious, and loud, the current him was the exact opposite he could almost pass like a Lan.

He kept himself in line, never drawing attention to himself. He arrived just in time for classes and practice, never too early nor late. His clothes were perfectly neat, his hair tied properly with a red ribbon, and his posture held only the slightest slouch—nothing anyone could comment on.

Always at the back of lecture halls, or in the library, Wei Wuxian kept his head low, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the talismans he was always working on, his hands moving in practiced motions. The Lans, ever absorbed in their rules and rituals, never gave him a second glance. He was out of sight, out of mind—just the way he preferred it. The less anyone noticed him, the less risk there was of exposing the weight of his heart.

He let the lessons run its course, answering when called upon but doing so blandly. No brilliant ideas, no sarcasm, no unorthodox suggestions. He toyed with the idea of challenging Lan Qiren though, but ultimately restrained himself.

Grandmaster Lan, tell me—what is evil, what is just? Do you believe an entire group of people can be blamed for the actions of a few? If one of the Jades harmed our sect, would you expect all of Gusu to pay for it?

But what was the point? He wasn’t here to lecture anyone. He didn't return for them, and he certainly wasn’t here to become Yiling Laozu again. He could, he supposed—but only if absolutely necessary. Like scaring Wen Chao.

Of course, it didn’t take long before Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, and Nie Huaisang called him out.

“You’ve changed, Wei-xiong. Are you sure you’re not cursed?”

“Who are you, and what did you do to Wei Wuxian?”

“A-Xian, you know you can always talk to me if something’s wrong, right? Your shijie is here for you.”

Each time, he dismissed their concerns with the same, hollow responses.

“Really? I feel the same, so I don't know what you mean.”

“Weren’t you always complaining that I was a disgrace to the Jiang Sect? I’m just trying to behave for once. It’s boring to be the same person all the time, you know.”

“Ah, Shijie, you really are the sweetest, you know that? Xianxian is fine, please don’t worry.”

It was all bullshit, but he didn’t care. When they pushed further, he simply avoided them altogether. He had zero energy to spare for this.

So Wei Wuxian stayed out of sight. He didn’t frequent the main areas where he might run into familiar faces, Lan Wangji most especially. He didn’t want to see them, and he definitely didn’t want to talk to them. He couldn’t avoid them forever, sure, but he would like to try for as long as possible.

Too bad there was no place in the Cloud Recesses that wouldn’t remind him of his husband and son.

Lan Zhan... I miss you. Are you well? Are you taking care of A-Yuan? Please don’t be sad. And please, don’t be mad. I love you.

Sometimes, he drifted into a daze, remembering Lan Zhan in his arms, those golden eyes full of love and devotion. He’d remember his little radish, eagerly sharing stories of night hunts, his pride shining through every word.

His heart ached at the memories. He missed them—Lan Zhan most of all. His perfect little smile, his laughter, his warmth.

What they had was everything he could ever dream of, and more. It should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

But he would accept it. Against every fiber of his being, he’d accept this fate. This new life. The past is gone, and with it, his right to be in Lan Zhan's life.

I can't let him suffer because of me again. I won't make that mistake.

It was a vow he whispered to himself every day and every night as he worked tirelessly on his talismans and arrays aimed at strengthening the barriers and wards that would protect the Cloud Recesses. The Lan clan hadn’t asked for his help, but he would give it anyway. He worked without pause, his hands trembling only when the image of Lan Wangji's cold expression slipped into his thoughts.

He knew his time at Cloud Recesses was limited. The longer he stayed, the higher the chance their souls would recognize each other.

Or rather, Lan Zhan's soul recognizing his. And then Lan Zhan would fall in love with him all over again.

Wei Wuxian knew it. In any lifetime, he would gravitate towards Lan Zhan's soul. And it was going to be much harder to stay away this time. His soul knew its other half. His soul recognizes, and his soul definitely remembers. Soon, it would seek out its counterpart, and if Lan Zhan's soul came to recognize his, who would stop them from claiming each other? He was strong, but not that strong. He was sure he'd break the moment Lan Zhan realized they belonged to each other, even if this boy wouldn't admit it yet.

So, he wasn't going to take any chances. He trained himself not to look. He did his best not to let his mind wander (for more than a few moments) to the memories of his husband and son. And he absolutely would not give in and gaze at Lan Zhan.

He managed not to look at him directly. He caught flashes of white and blue, but he didn't let himself linger.

There was one place, however, where he still felt safe within Cloud Recesses. The only place he could let himself fall apart when the weight of his emotions became too much. The only place that resembled his past so closely, he could almost pretend Lan Zhan was just around the corner, fetching food for their bunny kids.

The back hill. Where their rabbits were.

Has Lan Zhan found them yet? Probably not. As far as he knew, they were still wearing their cute little ribbons the last time he fed them.

Speaking of, it was time to feed them again. So he made his way to the back hill, taking small, careful steps as he passed by the Jingshi.

He was moving too slowly, though, because Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang caught up to him. He thought they might have been calling his name, but he wasn’t sure. He was getting really good at shutting (unimportant) people out. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with an excuse, when Huaisang spoke.

"Wei-xiong, there you are! Didn’t you hear us calling you? You disappeared after sword practice earlier. I’m starting to think you’re avoiding us."

Wei Wuxian didn’t answer. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, his usual signal for get to the point, Huaisang.

It was Jiang Cheng who picked up the conversation.

"You are avoiding us. Why? You’ve changed, Wei Wuxian. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’ve become one of the Lans," Jiang Cheng accused, his voice low but sharp.

"So what if I have," Wei Wuxian whispered, soft but loud enough for them to hear.

"What?!" Jiang Cheng and Huaisang gaped at him. Jiang Cheng looked like he was about to punch him.

"Aiya, I’m kidding! How could I be a Lan? Did you forget who I am?" Wei Wuxian waved off their reactions, then quickly steered the conversation elsewhere. "Anyway, why were you looking for me?"

"But why would you say that, Wei-xiong? That didn’t sound like a joke," Huaisang pressed, eyes narrowing. "I didn’t know you wanted to be a Lan."

Wei Wuxian sighed. He hated lying, but this was a secret no one needed to know.

"There’s nothing wrong with being a Lan. It’d be an honor to be one of them," he deflected.

Jiang Cheng scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Wei Wuxian, what the hell? You’ve been here less than a month and already, you’re forgetting your place? You’re not them. You’re annoying and loud! You drink, you break rules—that’s who you are! You’re nothing like the Lans! So stop acting like them and stop saying you want to be like them! You belong to the Jiang Clan, you hear?"

"Calm down, Jiang Cheng. I know who I am. Just… forget what I said, okay?"

Huaisang kept glancing between the two of them, clearly sensing something deeper beneath Wei Wuxian's words.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Fine. You’re never going to be a Lan anyway. They barely even look at you. They don’t—"

"I know," Wei Wuxian snapped, his tone sharper than intended. It hurt, what Jiang Cheng said, because it's true. The Lans didn’t look at him. Not that he’d been looking (much) himself. But still. He didn’t need to hear it aloud.

"Why were you looking for me?" he added, voice softer but strained.

"We’re going to town tomorrow. Want to come?" Jiang Cheng offered, though he seemed hesitant after Wei Wuxian’s reaction.

"Thanks, but I’d rather stay here. Have fun."

"Wow, Wei-xiong. You are so dry. I’m starting to believe you’re really not yourself. What happened to the fun-loving, adventure-seeking Wei Wuxian I know? Aren’t you even going to ask why we’re going?" Huaisang asked, genuinely surprised by Wei Wuxian's quick dismissal.

Wei Wuxian didn’t even feel guilty. Everyone thought he wasn’t the same person—and they were right. He wasn’t. And he didn’t care. The sooner he's done here, the sooner he could disappear. There was no need to build relationships this time.

Still, he decided to humor them.

"Alright, I’ll bite. Why are you going to town? What sort of fun am I missing?"

"I’m so glad you asked," Huaisang grinned. "We’re going to investigate a report about drownings in Biling Lake."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "Pass."

"D-did you just say pass?!" Jiang Cheng asked in disbelief. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"First, we’re just guests here. It’s not our concern. Second, the Twin Jades can handle it themselves. Lastly, you call that fun?"

Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

"Look, if they need our help, they’ll ask," Wei Wuxian added, seeing their confusion.

"How do you know they haven’t?" Jiang Cheng asked, brows furrowing.

"Because…" Wei Wuxian let out a long sigh. "The Lans wouldn’t put students in danger for something they can handle. They’re not just pretty faces, you know. They’re also really strong and powerful."

That earned him a couple of brows raised even higher than before.

"Is that why you wanted to be a Lan? To be beautiful and powerful?" Jiang Cheng mocked.

"No, no. See, Wei-xiong is already beautiful and powerful. He doesn’t need to be a Lan," Huaisang grinned, shooting Wei Wuxian a knowing look.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, "Do you perhaps have a crush on one of the Twin Jades?"

"A crush?" Jiang Cheng snorted. "Wei Wuxian doesn’t even look at the Lans, and the Lans never look at him either. Did you forget? Wei Wuxian’s an annoying flirt. If he liked someone, he’d be pulling their hair already."

"Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Jiang Cheng," Huaisang said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Wei Wuxian does look—when he thinks no one’s paying attention. And when he does, he looks… really sad."

Wei Wuxian’s heart skipped a beat. Fuck Nie Huaisang and his perceptiveness.

"Why do you look at him like that, Wei-xiong?" Huaisang pressed, voice soft but probing.

"Like what?" Wei Wuxian tried to sound casual, but his pulse was racing.

"Oh, you know," Huaisang paused dramatically, "like someone in—"

"Stop!" Wei Wuxian snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

The abruptness silenced them both. Jiang Cheng looked confused, but Huaisang just gazed at him thoughtfully, his sharp eyes seeing far too much.

He wanted to kick Nie Huaisang for being so annoying.

And for meddling. And for always being on to something, which usually turned out to be correct. Fortunately, Jiang Cheng only looked confused and didn't seem to believe him. Unfortunately, Huaisang isn't done yet.

“I can tell you all the expressions your face makes whenever you try to sneak a glance at second young master Lan, but I'm sure you don't need that. I'm just curious, what happened between you two? I've never seen you both interact with each other more than twice, with very few words exchanged. Yet you were calling out for him all the times you were unconscious during your first days here,” Nie Huaisang pressed.

Wei Wuxian was about to deny but his mind froze when he realized the implication of what Nie Huaisang said.

Shit, did he really mess up? He knew he called for Lan Zhan while he was unconscious. Lan Xichen told him so, but was Lan Zhan actually there with him while he was screaming his name? And if he was, why hasn't he confronted him? Did he not care?

Fuckfuckfuck.

Did he also hear me say that I love him?

His silence lingered on for a bit and before Huaisang could continue, Wei Wuxian forced a laugh. “I don't know what you think you saw but I assure you I look at everyone the same. There is nothing. Stop being weird."

I'm being weird? Huaisang wanted to argue but restrained himself seeing Wei Wuxian's very serious expression. He was unconvinced but decided to drop the topic, for now. Jiang Cheng, fortunately, seemed bored and ready to move on.

"Anyway, I’ve got things to do," Wei Wuxian said, turning away, waving a hand in dismissal before either of them could respond.

He was gone in seconds, leaving the two behind, still in disbelief at how quickly he’d managed to run off again.

Neither of them noticed the shadow that slipped from behind a nearby tree, lingering in the quiet after they’d left.

Chapter Text

They’re not just pretty faces, you know. They’re also really strong and powerful.

Lan Wangji had heard this before. Countless times. It never mattered. He never cared.

Yet, hearing it from Wei Wuxian, something in him stirred.

Perhaps because it was the first time he heard it spoken with sincerity. People said it out of fear, blind admiration, or obligation, but never with respect. Never like this.

The way Wei Wuxian had said it felt genuine.

And sad.

Lan Wangji could not understand why, but it unsettled him. The boy was supposed to be a troublemaker, yet ever since stepping foot into the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian had been anything but. He kept to himself, always busy with his hands, never in anyone’s way. There was no mischief, no arrogance, no reckless energy. Only quiet solitude. A quietness that felt unnatural for someone like him.

And more than that—

“Please don't leave me, Lan Zhan. You promised…”

The words had been filled with pain, raw and unguarded, as if spoken from a wound too deep to heal. He had been gripping the sheets, his face twisted in something akin to grief.

Lan Xichen had been there, standing at his bedside with a frown. “Does he know you, Wangji?” he had asked quietly.

Lan Wangji only shook his head in response.

Before his thoughts could spiral further, a light knock at the door interrupted him.

“Come in.”

The doors slid open to Lan Xichen, his expression calm as he stepped inside. “Wangji, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Lan Wangji set down his cup and inclined his head. “Xiong zhang.”

Lan Xichen settled across from him, pouring himself tea before speaking. “Tomorrow, we leave for Biling lake to deal with the water ghosts,” he said. “Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang have asked to join us.”

Lan Wangji remained impassive, but Lan Xichen’s slight sigh revealed what he thought of the request.

“I was reluctant at first. It is dangerous, after all. But Nie Huaisang…” Lan Xichen allowed himself a small, amused smile. “He was rather insistent. Said it would make Nie Mingjue proud to see him take on a responsibility.”

Lan Wangji blinked.

“And, well, since the Jiang disciples have lived by Lotus Pier, they do have more experience with water beings than we do,” Lan Xichen added thoughtfully. “I decided it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know them better.”

“Wei Wuxian will not go,” Lan Wangji said simply, ignoring Lan Xichen’s encouragement for him to make friends. He is simply not interested.

Lan Xichen’s brow lifted slightly. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

Lan Wangji hesitated, then lowered his gaze. He cannot just say he was eavesdropping so he remained silent.

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment before setting his cup down. “Wangji,” he said gently. “What do you think of Wei Wuxian?”

Lan Wangji didn't respond.

“They said he is unruly, wild, always causing trouble. But since he arrived here, he has been… different.” Lan Xichen folded his hands together. “He does not seem to fit the rumors about him. What do you think?”

Lan Wangji hesitated again, searching for the right words. Finally, he settled with, “I do not know him well enough to form an opinion.”

Lan Xichen chuckled, as if sensing some dishonesty. “I see. Well, I think there is more to him than what others say.” He paused, then added, “He also told me something interesting the first time I spoke to him.”

Lan Wangji glanced up.

“He told me our wards were weak.”

Lan Wangji frowned. “Weak?”

Lan Xichen nodded. “He said they needed to be strengthened. And that we needed to be prepared, even mentioning Wen attack as a possibility.”

For a moment, Lan Wangji's mind drifted to that unknown saviour from a few weeks ago who had scared the Wens away even before the Lans could defend themselves.

Lan Xichen smiled slightly at the growing silence. “Strange, isn’t it? He’s not a Lan, yet he seemed concerned.”

That… did not make sense. Wei Wuxian had no reason to care. Yet his words from earlier lingered.

It’d be an honor to be one of them.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes, willing away the thoughts, the emotions that were beginning to take root.

Whatever puzzle Wei Wuxian presented, it is not for him to solve.

—

The sky was dark when Wei Wuxian slipped out of the Cloud Recesses, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

He had told himself to stay away. To ignore the pull of the waterborne abyss.

Let the Lans deal with it. Let them handle as they did before.

But the image of the lake, blackened and seething, had haunted him through the five minutes he’d spent lying on his bed, trying to will himself into not caring.

He wasn’t that person anymore. He had told himself that a thousand times. He was only here for one reason.

Yet here he was.

The dark whirlpool at the center of the lake churned hungrily, deep and bottomless, devouring the reflection of the moon. Resentful energy surged from it, thick and suffocating, the whispers of water ghosts hissing just beneath the surface.

Wei Wuxian exhaled, fingers brushing against the ancient talismans tucked into his sleeve.

His hands moved in a blur, talismans flying into the air as he muttered an incantation. The black ink on the paper ignited in violent flames, and as they landed in the water, the lake groaned as though something deep within had felt the sting of his presence.

As the ritual progressed, whispers began to circulate through the village. Someone had appeared on the lake's shore, dressed in white, performing some magic and calling out instructions.

"Hide in your homes," a voice commanded, both urgent and threatening. "Do not disturb me."

The villagers obeyed. Doors shut, windows latched. They had no reason to trust him, no reason to believe in the figure cloaked in dark mist. But his voice carried the weight of someone who had done this before. Someone who knew what he was doing.

With the civilians out of sight, Wei Wuxian pressed two fingers to his lips and whistled. The sound was sharp and piercing, infused with powerful energy. The moment it rang through the air, the lake screamed.

The whirlpool exploded outward, sending massive waves toward the shore, but Wei Wuxian stood unmoved. Instead, he continued with his whistle.

The notes were low and deep. His tune wove through the night, threading into the water itself, and for a moment, the lake stilled. The howling of the water ghosts quieted, the whirlpool settled.

Wei Wuxian’s grin widened.

“Come on,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Let’s play.”

He shifted the melody, twisting it into something even stronger, each note burrowing into the abyss’ core, sinking hooks into its resentful energy. The lake trembled. The whirlpool roared, twisting violently, but Wei Wuxian’s melody wove around it, threading through its very being—commanding it.

The water ghosts screamed as their forms were pulled upward, forced out of the abyss’s grasp.

The lake itself convulsed.

Wei Wuxian’s lips curled into something sharp, something cruel.

“Rise.”

The water ghosts wrenched free, their translucent forms staggering onto the shore, no longer bound to the abyss.
The lake shuddered, furious. It lunged at him, a massive wave rising from the depths.

Before it could hit, Wei Wuxian slammed his foot down, activating the array he had carved into the ground the moment he arrived.

The entire clearing exploded with light.

Black mist erupted from the abyss, screeching, as chains of energy shot into the water, piercing through its core. The lake writhed, its dark mass contorting, struggling.

Wei Wuxian whistled again.

One final note. One final command.

The lake screamed.

The whirlpool collapsed inward, shrinking, crumbling, dying. The resentful energy within it disintegrated, purified by the sheer force of his command.

Silence.

The lake had gone still. The ghosts, now freed, turned to him, bowing deeply before vanishing into the wind.

Just as they did, Wei Wuxian disappeared as swiftly as he had arrived.

As his feet took him inside the Cloud Recesses, his thoughts were heavy, muddled with exhaustion and a quiet ache. He almost didn't want to return, to pass the night outside. But he also knew that doing so would raise suspicions. He should be where he's supposed to be during the night—in his bed, and not anywhere near the lake.

He just needed to rest and catch his breath.

“Wei Wuxian.”

He froze.

Lan Wangji stood before him, cold and unyielding. His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto Wei Wuxian without a hint of warmth.

He took a step back, but his legs betrayed him. His movements were sluggish, too slow to make it far.

“It is almost midnight. You broke our curfew.” Lan Wangji’s voice cut through the night.

Wei Wuxian’s heart skipped a beat. His first instinct was to flee, to melt into the shadows, but he was too drained. There was no hiding now. He straightened and tried to play it cool, but even his carefree attitude couldn’t mask the fatigue in his voice.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking at Lan Wangji directly.

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed. “Curfew was set for a reason.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him. “Curfew, huh? Always so inflexible, Lan Wangji. You really think a rule like that matters in the grand scheme of things?”

Lan Wangji replied coldly. “Rules exist to maintain order. They are not to be broken without reason.” His sword gleamed in the moonlight as he slowly unsheathed it, his movements deliberate, precise. “You broke the curfew. It is a simple matter of discipline.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t back down, though his body ached with the effort. “Discipline? Is that really all that matters to you?”

Lan Wangji’s gaze grew even colder, his jaw tightening as he took a step forward. “You are not making sense. You break a rule, you pay for it. Simple.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “I’m just saying that not everything is as simple as rules. Rules are... guides, not laws of life. Sometimes, things are more complicated than black and white, don’t you think?”

A moment of silence stretched between them, the tension thick. Lan Wangji’s expression didn’t change. His eyes still held that same cold suspicion, but there was something else beneath it, something like curiosity. It wasn’t enough to dispel the chill between them, but it was enough to make him hesitate.

“Do not make excuses,” Lan Wangji said, his voice growing firmer. “You broke the curfew. That is a fact.”

Wei Wuxian let out a small sigh, his energy waning with each passing second. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, but the weariness in his movements made it look almost desperate.

“I’m not denying that, Lan… Wangji,” he said softly, the tiredness creeping into his voice. “I had to do something and sometimes the rules just don’t apply.

“And what righteous thing did you do?” Lan Wangji’s expression didn’t soften. He was still watching, studying Wei Wuxian closely, his sword raised in readiness.

Wei Wuxian sighed, his eyes lowered, unwilling to explain further.

“I do not believe you understand the importance of discipline,” Lan Wangji said coldly, then lunged forward in a swift attack, forcing Wei Wuxian into the defensive.

The clash of their swords rang out into the night, the sound sharp and relentless. Wei Wuxian’s movements were slower than usual, sluggish from the residual strain of purifying the waterborne abyss. Each strike was a struggle, each deflection a battle against the weight of his exhaustion.

Lan Wangji continued to press forward, his sword coming down in a steady rhythm, pushing Wei Wuxian back. Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth, barely able to keep up. His arms burned from the exertion, his body no longer responding as quickly as it once would. But he wasn’t about to give up. Not yet.

He stepped sideways, deflecting another blow, and then another, but his movements were not his own.

A frown flickered across Lan Wangji’s face as he parried a strike from Wei Wuxian, his gaze sharp, focused. There was something about the way Wei Wuxian was fighting; fluid, precise, like a mirror of his own technique. Lan Wangji’s suspicion deepened.

Wei Wuxian was using his stance, his form, almost instinctively, as though it had been ingrained in him over the years. But how?

Wei Wuxian didn’t notice. He couldn’t notice. His vision was clouding, his body was failing him, but still, he fought on, only deflecting, never attacking, always reacting. He could hardly summon the strength to do more.

Lan Wangji’s sword cut through the air again, a blur of silver as it came down with precise force. Wei Wuxian raised his sword to block, but his body was no longer responding with its usual agility. The blow landed, pushing him back on his heels, and with a final, overwhelming strike, his sword was knocked from his hands.

He staggered, the world spinning around him, and for a moment, he thought he might fall. His breathing was ragged, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion he had been holding at bay for so long.

But before he could collapse to the ground, Lan Wangji’s arms caught him, steadying him in an instant.

For a moment, everything was still. Wei Wuxian’s breath was shallow, his heart beat rapidly and his body trembled with exhaustion. His vision blurred as he tried to focus on Lan Wangji’s face. The stern expression, the rigid form, and the suspicion in his eyes all made Wei Wuxian’s heart twist painfully. There was nothing familiar in Lan Wangji’s gaze. No warmth, no comfort, just cold scrutiny.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Wei Wuxian whispered, his voice barely a breath. “The world’s not black and white, Lan Wangji. I hope you realize someday that sometimes, doing the right thing is more important than following the rules.”

Lan Wangji didn’t respond immediately. He just held Wei Wuxian, the cold distance still in his eyes. He didn’t move to let him go, even as Wei Wuxian’s body slumped against him.

“You broke the rule,” Lan Wangji said quietly, though there was no anger in his voice. “But you did so to protect something. Is that your excuse?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fluttered closed, his energy no longer able to hold up. “I don’t need an excuse,” he murmured.

He could feel Lan Wangji’s grip tighten around him, not in anger, but in something else, something Wei Wuxian wouldn't want to name. He let his body relax against Lan Wangji’s chest. He knew it's against his own rules, but just for today, he decided to let go.

Lan Wangji didn’t reply, but his hand gently adjusted Wei Wuxian’s position, holding him steady as they both stood under the pale moonlight.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji did not intend to bring Wei Wuxian here.

When he caught him as he collapsed during their fight, his first thought had been the infirmary. It was logical. Rational. Yet, somehow, his feet had carried him past the medical wing, past the halls of healing, straight to the Jingshi.

It wasn’t until he set Wei Wuxian down on his bed that he realized what he had done.

Wei Wuxian stirred, eyelashes fluttering against the fevered flush of his cheeks. He looked exhausted, his white robes damp with sweat, strands of hair clinging to his face. Lan Wangji frowned.

What did you do?

Lan Wangji sat beside the bed, his gaze fixed on the figure lying before him. Wei Wuxian’s face is beautiful, Lan Wangji thought, despite his obvious weariness and exhaustion.

He had meant to stand, to step away and call for the healers but the moment he shifted, a hand shot out, weak fingers curling around his wrist.

The grip was loose, barely there, yet it held him in place more effectively than any restraint. Wei Wuxian’s fingers trembled against his skin, as if even in sleep, he feared Lan Wangji slipping away.

“Lan Zhan…”

The name was whispered so softly, so full of quiet desperation, that Lan Wangji nearly believed he imagined it.

Wei Wuxian, still half-conscious, had reached out.

Lan Wangji exhaled, long and slow. Against his better judgment, he remained at Wei Wuxian’s bedside. He did not realize his gaze had softened.

And then—

A flicker of golden light.

A talisman flared between Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Lan Wangji barely had time to react before a wave of drowsiness crashed over him. His vision blurred at the edges, his breath slowed, his body tipped forward ever so slightly.

Wei Wuxian caught him just before he fell.

As he laid him gently on his own bed, he couldn't help but touch the ribbon that was once his, letting his fingers linger on it for just a second longer.

Then, for the first time in this new life, he allowed himself to truly look at Lan Wangji. At the face he had once known so well.

Even in rest, Lan Wangji was a vision, otherworldly in his beauty, untouchable in his grace. The golden glow of the lanterns bathed his pale skin in warm light, casting gentle shadows along the elegant curve of his cheekbones, the delicate arch of his brows, the soft part of his lips.

Wei Wuxian’s throat tightened.

Alive.

The word echoed in his mind like a prayer, like a curse.

Wei Wuxian swallowed hard. He should leave. He should have left the moment Lan Wangji started to fall under the spell. But still, he stood there, drinking in the sight of him, memorizing every detail like a man starved.

"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan," he whispered. His voice barely carried beyond the quiet hum of the talisman still flickering on the desk.

His fingers twitched at his side, wanting, aching to reach out once more. To brush against the warmth of Lan Wangji’s skin, to reassure himself that he was real. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back.

—

The morning air in Cloud Recesses buzzed with quiet murmurs as disciples, including Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang prepared for their departure to Biling Lake. The investigation had been planned with their goal to uncover the source of the strange drownings that plagued the waters.

Lan Xichen stood at the forefront, overseeing the final preparations. Beside him, Lan Wangji with his expression as calm as ever, though his thoughts were anything but.

His mind drifted back to last night. To the way Wei Wuxian had collapsed against him, feverish and weak yet still sharp enough to slip away under his watch. To the flicker of a talisman between his fingers, the last thing Lan Wangji saw before sleep had washed over him.

To the undeniable certainty that Wei Wuxian had been up to something.

—

When they arrived at Biling Lake, the scene before them was not what they had expected.

The lake was calm, too calm. Its waters, once reported to be cursed and deadly, now shimmered under the morning sun, clear and still, reflecting the sky like a polished mirror. There was no stench of resentment, no suffocating presence of the dead.

And on the shores, the people of Gusu were celebrating.

Nie Huaisang murmured to Jiang Cheng. “I thought we're going to fight some water ghosts?”

The murmurs of the villagers reached them before anyone could explain.

“Did you hear? A cultivator came last night and purified the lake!”

“Yes! I’ve seen him dressed in all white, but I did not see his face.”

“I saw him standing at the water’s edge, drawing a great array into the earth. He told us to hide in our homes.”

“The moment the sun rose, the lake was clear! The drownings are over!”

Lan Wangji’s grip on Bichen tightened. His eyes remained fixed on the water, silent as the voices rang around him.

Nie Huaisang tapped his fan against his chin, eyes narrowing in thought. “A mysterious Lan cultivator who single-handedly cleansed the waterborne abyss in a single night?” He turned to Lan Wangji, voice laced with amusement. “Lan Xiong, was it you?”

Lan Wangji’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. “No.”

“Hmm,” Nie Huaisang mused, glancing back at the lake. Interesting.

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Who cares who did it? At least we don’t have to waste our time here.”

Nie Huaisang hummed, flicking open his fan. “Yes… quite convenient, isn't it?”

Lan Wangji said nothing, but the unease in his chest did not fade.

As they prepared to turn back, his eyes fell once more to the water, the reflection of the sky broken only by the occasional ripple. A passing thought whispered in his mind of a lone figure standing at the shore, robes white as snow, hands moving with practiced ease as he inscribed symbols into the earth.

He exhaled slowly.

Impossible.

Wei Wuxian was in Cloud Recesses. Weak. Feverish. Recovering.

And yet…

The feeling would not leave him.

—

Back in Cloud Recesses, Jiang Yanli sat at Wei Wuxian’s bedside, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. Worry pressed heavily on her chest as she watched over him. He looked so pale, so unlike himself. His usual endless energy had been drained away, leaving him feverish and exhausted.

She knew something was wrong. She had tried to ask, tried to coax the truth out of him, but he had only deflected, offering a weak joke instead of an answer. It frustrated her. Not because she expected him to tell her everything, but because this was not the little brother who used to run to her with every scraped knee and every trouble.

He had grown. He had changed. And it hurt to realize that he no longer came to her for comfort.

With a soft sigh, she reached out, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. His fever wasn’t too high, but it was enough to worry her. She had already sent for a healer, but until they arrived, all she could do was stay by his side.

“A-xian,” she murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. Just… please take care of yourself.”

Wei Wuxian stirred slightly, his brows twitching, but he didn’t wake.

A soft knock at the door made Jiang Yanli look up. She turned just in time to see Lan Wangji step inside. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something sharp in his gaze as he took in the sight of Wei Wuxian lying there.

As Jiang Yanli bowed and stepped past Lan Wangji, preparing to leave, a faint murmur stopped her in her tracks.

“…Lan Zhan…”

Her breath caught. She turned back sharply, eyes widening in surprise. Wei Wuxian, still feverish, shifted restlessly in the bed, his fingers twitching against the blanket. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the name was unmistakable.

Jiang Yanli’s gaze flickered between the two of them. Wei Wuxian had been unresponsive all this time, lost in fevered dreams, yet the moment Lan Wangji entered the room, he called for him.

Lan Wangji’s hands tightened at his sides, unreadable as ever, but she did not miss the way his posture stiffened.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick with something unspoken, something Jiang Yanli did not fully understand but could feel.

She swallowed, pushing down the sudden ache in her chest. Wei Wuxian had always been hers to protect, but standing here now, watching the way he unconsciously reached for Lan Wangji even in his weakened state, she wondered if that had changed.

Jiang Yanli lowered her gaze and adjusted the folds of her sleeves. “…Take care of him,” she murmured, softer this time. Then, without another word, she stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Lan Wangji had come with a purpose, fully intending to enforce the rules, to demand punishment from Wei Wuxian for breaking curfew and for using a spell on him. He knew Wei Wuxian was not well. He suspected as much after their fight last night. But the moment he saw Wei Wuxian—pale, bedridden, and his breath shallow, his steps slowed.

The sharp reprimand he had prepared faded into silence.

Wei Wuxian shifted restlessly, his brow furrowed as if caught in a troubled dream. Then, barely audible—Lan Wangji’s name.

Lan Wangji froze. His grip on his sleeves tightened.

It was not the first time. Nor the second. That night, after their fight beneath the moon, Wei Wuxian had also murmured his name while on his bed. Or was that just a trick to catch him off guard?

Lan Wangji sat beside the bed, his gaze steady, searching for something in Wei Wuxian’s face. He told himself it was only to confirm his suspicions.

The world is not black and white, Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian’s words last night still lingered in his mind, speaking of how rules were just guidelines, how sometimes doing right is more important than rules.

Was he referring to what he did at the lake?

The timing was too much of a coincidence. He could not be certain, but something inside him whispered that the nameless cultivator in white, the one who had cleared Biling Lake, was none other than the person before him now, feverish and vulnerable.

Wei Wuxian shifted again, his lashes fluttering. Lan Wangji watched, waiting.

He did not realize how much time had passed until the candle on the table burned low. He should have left. He should not have lingered. But he did.

Because something did not make sense.

And because Wei Wuxian, even in sleep, was calling out for him.

When their head healer arrived, Lan Wangji stood aside, watching as she examined Wei Wuxian with practiced efficiency. Wei Wuxian barely stirred, still lost in fevered dreams, his breaths uneven.

Healer Qin straightened, bowing slightly before reporting, “Exhaustion, spiritual overuse, and a mild fever. His core is stable, but it is strained. He must have spent a great deal of energy recently.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze flickered to Wei Wuxian’s still form. That was expected. He had suspected as much.

“Could it have been caused by performing a large-scale purification?” Lan Wangji asked, his voice calm, measured.

Healer Qin hesitated before answering. “Yes, that is one possibility. If he channeled a great deal of spiritual energy without proper balance, it would leave him in this state.”

Lan Wangji hummed in acknowledgment. His mind fit the pieces together, but the picture remained unclear. Wei Wuxian had refused involvement with Biling Lake. He had refused to join the others in investigating it. And yet, here he was, collapsed from spiritual exhaustion on the very morning the lake was miraculously purified.

A coincidence? Unlikely.

Lan Wangji’s fingers twitched. He had meant to punish Wei Wuxian for breaking curfew, for using talismans against him to escape and for lying. But instead, he was left standing here, staring at a boy who might have had risked himself for something greater, and had collapsed under the weight of it.

His own words from the night before echoed in his mind. Rules exist to maintain order.

Wei Wuxian’s response had been sharp, unwavering. Rules are... guides, not laws of life. Sometimes, things are more complicated than black and white, don’t you think?

Lan Wangji looked down at Wei Wuxian once more, his eyes narrowing.

If he was right, then Wei Wuxian had not broken the rules for selfish reasons. He had done it for the sake of others, to rid the world of a threat before it could harm more people.

And yet, he had hidden it. No boasting. No arrogance. Only silence. And suffering.

Lan Wangji did not understand. He’s still not sure he wanted to.

—

When Wei Wuxian finally recovered, he didn’t wait for Lan Wangji to summon him. Instead, he walked straight to the Songfeng Shiyue Pavilion, hands tucked into his sleeves, shoulders relaxed, as if he had simply come for a casual visit.

Lan Wangji, standing to the side, had expected many things. Denials. Excuses. More clever escapes.

He had not expected this.

Wei Wuxian knelt before the elders and, with the utmost sincerity, confessed, “I broke curfew a few nights ago.”

The room fell into silence.

Lan Qiren, standing at the head of the hall, frowned. “For what reason?”

Wei Wuxian smiled, his voice light. “I was testing a new talisman. It’s a delicate invention, you see, and I needed complete silence. I didn’t want to disturb anyone if it failed—or exploded.” He laughed as if it were nothing.

Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes. A lie. A carefully crafted one, just plausible enough to be accepted without suspicion.

Lan Qiren’s expression darkened. “And you thought this warranted breaking our rules?”

Wei Wuxian lowered his head in feigned remorse. “I was wrong. I should have sought permission. I accept my punishment.”

Lan Wangji studied him carefully. Not once did Wei Wuxian mention the waterborne abyss. Not once did he acknowledge what he had done. Even when faced with punishment, he chose to mislead rather than claim credit. Why?

Lan Qiren exhaled sharply. “Ten strikes with the discipline ruler. You will transcribe the Lan Sect rules fifty times.”

Wei Wuxian did not flinch. “Understood.”

Lan Wangji remained still, but something within him shifted. Wei Wuxian had handed himself over for punishment but not for the truth.

Lan Wangji would not let it go so easily.

“You would risk punishment for a mere invention?”

Wei Wuxian met his gaze, unreadable. “Yes. What else could it be?”

Lan Wangji’s fingers twitched against the hilt of Bichen. “If it was truly an invention, present it.”

Wei Wuxian smirked. He knew Lan Wangji would do this. “Of course.” He reached into his robes, pulling out a folded talisman, the ink dark and precise. “Here.”

The elders watched in silence as he held it up between two fingers. “It’s a modification of the Cloud Recesses' current protection talismans,” Wei Wuxian explained lightly. “Your barriers are strong, but they rely too much on passive energy. If an attack is strong enough, they’ll break before they can react. This one,” he tapped the talisman, “stores defensive energy and disperses it in waves, reinforcing the barrier while deflecting attacks at the same time.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “And you could not test this during daylight?”

Wei Wuxian sighed dramatically. “Senior, barriers are weakest at night, aren’t they? If I wanted a real test, it had to be under the most vulnerable conditions.”

Lan Wangji did not look away from him. “That is not why you broke curfew.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips twitched, something sly in his expression. “I already admitted my mistake, haven’t I?”

“You admitted a mistake,” Lan Wangji corrected. His gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “Not the mistake.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled, his voice dangerously low. “Careful, Lan Wangji. You're accusing without proof. I'm pretty sure that’s against your rules.”

Lan Wangji’s jaw tensed as he stared at him, his gaze dark, searching.

Wei Wuxian held his smile, unbothered.

Lan Wangji exhaled quietly. “I will inspect this talisman myself.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “Good. But first—” He gestured to the discipline ruler in Lan Qiren’s hands. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

Chapter Text

In the days that followed, Wei Wuxian continued to pull away. He kept his head down, spoke only when necessary, and avoided everyone. He could feel the weight of their stares, hear the murmurs that followed in his wake—his strange behavior, his nightmares, his late-night wanderings. The Biling Lake.

Soon, someone was going to put the pieces together. And when they did, they would find him right in the middle of it.

He needed to leave. Soon.

—

Lan Wangji studied the talisman Wei Wuxian had given them, tracing the lines of its formation with careful fingers. It was beyond what their current wards were capable of—storing and redirecting energy in ways that could revolutionize their defenses.

Wei Wuxian had created something remarkable.

And yet, he acted as if it meant nothing.

Lan Wangji needed answers.

So he sought him out.

He approached him after a lecture, talisman in hand. “There are improvements to be made.”

Wei Wuxian barely glanced at him. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Lan Wangji frowned. “You created this.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “I was just playing around.”

“You do not ‘play around,’” Lan Wangji countered. “Your work is precise. Intentional.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers tightened around the book he was holding, but his smile remained in place. “I already gave the Lans a gift. What more do you want?”

Lan Wangji hesitated. Something in Wei Wuxian’s tone was off.

“Your expertise,” he said at last. “To refine this further.”

Wei Wuxian sighed, finally looking at Lan Wangji fully. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something Lan Wangji couldn’t name.

“I’m done refining things for others, Lan Wangji.”

Silence.

And with that, he turned away, leaving Lan Wangji standing alone.

But as Wei Wuxian walked away, his cold facade dropped.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart pound. Not from excitement, not from mischief, but from fear.

Lan Zhan is sharp. If I let my guard down, if I stay too long, if we work together—

He will fall in love again.

Wei Wuxian squeezed his eyes shut. He could not let that happen.

No matter how much he longed to stay.

No matter how much it hurt to walk away.

—

Lan Wangji sought out Lan Xichen next that evening, his mind weighed down by too many unanswered questions. He could not settle.

He found his brother in the Hanshi, seated in quiet contemplation with his xiao resting beside him. At Lan Wangji’s approach, Lan Xichen looked up, offering a calm smile. “Wangji. What troubles you?”

Lan Wangji sat across from him, silent for a long moment. Then, he placed a talisman on the table—the one Wei Wuxian had presented.

“This,” he said, “has the potential to strengthen our defenses.”

Lan Xichen’s gaze drifted over the talisman, then back to his brother’s face. “And yet, you do not seem pleased.”

Lan Wangji hesitated. “He is avoiding me.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was faint but knowing. “You speak of Wei-gongzi.”

Lan Wangji gave a small nod. “He is withholding something.”

Lan Xichen hummed in thought, then gestured to the talisman. “And you believe this is connected to the strange occurrences in Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Wangji exhaled. “Wei Wuxian is capable, this talisman is proof of that. I suspect he was involved in purifying Biling Lake.”

Lan Xichen studied him carefully. “And yet, he has not claimed credit.”

“No,” Lan Wangji said, his voice quieter. “And he refuses to help refine this further.”

Lan Xichen tapped a thoughtful finger against the table. “If he does not wish to share the truth, forcing the answer will only push him further away.”

Lan Wangji lowered his gaze slightly. He knew that, but—

“There is something else,” he admitted.

Lan Xichen raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Lan Wangji straightened. “The incident with Wen Chao.”

Lan Xichen’s expression darkened at the name.

Someone scared him away,” Lan Wangji continued. “A cultivator in white. No name, no sect. They did not fight—merely stood at the gates, and Wen Chao fled as if faced with a great force.”

Lan Xichen considered this. “Could it be the same person who purified the Biling Lake?”

Lan Wangji’s fingers curled slightly. “I do not know.”

Lan Xichen studied his brother for a long moment before speaking. “Strange, is it not?” His tone was mild, but there was something pointed beneath it. “The same day the Wens arrived at our gates… something valuable disappeared.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Disappeared?”

Lan Xichen’s fingers traced idle patterns against the wood of the table. “You were not informed. At the time, it was deemed unnecessary.” He met Lan Wangji’s gaze. “A fragment of Yin Iron—one our sect had safeguarded for generations.”

Lan Wangji’s breath stilled. He had read about Yin Iron and knew its powers and dangers especially on the wrong hands but he did not know they had one in possession.

Lan Xichen inclined his head slightly at his reaction. “It was taken. No signs of forced entry. No lingering resentment.” He let the words settle before adding, “I’m sure the Wens left empty-handed that day.”

Lan Wangji’s expression darkened. “Why was there no large-scale investigation?”

Lan Xichen’s smile was faint, unreadable. “Because drawing attention to the loss would have been unwise. And because there was no clear evidence of theft.” His gaze held Lan Wangji’s. “No intruder. No alarm. No broken wards.”

Lan Wangji murmured, “The nameless cultivator.”

Lan Xichen considered him. “Or someone else who has been behaving… unusually.”

Silence stretched between them.

Lan Wangji’s thoughts turned instantly to Wei Wuxian. How he kept his distance, never seeking favor, never showing attachment. Yet when he was unconscious, when he was vulnerable, it was his name, and only his name that he called. How he avoided attachments, yet had intervened when it mattered.

“He has not sought our favor, nor has he made any attempt to ingratiate himself,” Lan Xichen continued. “Yet he concerns himself with our security, warning us of threats. If he is a thief, he is an unusual one.”

Lan Wangji stared at the talisman on the table, the one Wei Wuxian had given so freely. There was something there, some connection—something that both puzzled and unsettled him.

“…And if he is not?” he asked.

Lan Xichen exhaled softly. “Then we are misjudging him.” He studied his brother carefully, then added, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

—

Wei Wuxian had been planning his departure for days, especially after Lan Wangji had begun making attempts to talk to him. He had considered slipping away in the dead of night, leaving no trace behind. Or perhaps he could shatter the rules so thoroughly that Lan Qiren would have no choice but to throw him out.

But none of these options sat right with him.

He wanted a quiet exit, one that wouldn’t raise suspicion nor leave lingering questions.

Funny, how in his first life, it had been so easy to get thrown out when he desperately wanted to stay, yet now, when he needed to leave, no convenient excuse presented itself.

Days stretched on, and he was still undecided. He had hoped to be gone before the lantern festival, yet here he was, on his own, lighting his lantern and just as he did, the memory of Lan Zhan's first little smile flashed in his mind.

He closed his eyes in a prayer.

I hope for Lan Zhan and A-Yuan to be safe and happy, always.

The lantern drifted upward, joining dozens of others, their warm glow painting the night sky with scattered stars. Around him, the disciples laughed and whispered wishes, their voices blending into the soft murmur of celebration.

Mianmian clapped her hands together, eyes bright with excitement. “Jiang-guniang, you must make a wish too! Your marriage with Young Master Jin is already set—”

The words barely left her lips before Jin Zixuan stiffened. His expression darkened, and without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

The joyous atmosphere faltered.

Jiang Yanli lowered her eyes, her smile barely wavering. “It’s fine,” she said softly. “I hope he—”

Wei Wuxian was already moving, realizing that an opportunity had presented itself.

So much for a quiet exit.

The soft glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows as he stalked after Jin Zixuan, his hands curled into fists.

“Jin Zixuan!” he called.

Jin Zixuan ignored him.

Wei Wuxian grabbed his arm, yanking him to a stop. “What the fuck was that?”

Jin Zixuan wrenched himself free, scowling. “Let go.”

Wei Wuxian took a step closer, his voice sharp. “My shijie has done nothing but be kind to you. And you—” His voice cracked with fury. “You treat her like this?”

Jin Zixuan’s jaw clenched. “It’s none of your business.”

Wei Wuxian let out a cold laugh. “None of my business? She’s my shijie and you are an asshole!”

Jin Zixuan sneered. “You sure she's just your sister?”

Wei Wuxian swung before he could think twice.

Jin Zixuan stumbled back, clutching his jaw.

Silence fell.

The disciples froze. A few gasped. Lan Wangji, who had been approaching, stopped in his tracks.

Jin Zixun rushed forward. “How dare you—”

Wei Wuxian turned sharply. “Shut up.”

Lan Qiren arrived moments later, his expression thunderous. “Wei Wuxian,” he said, his voice heavy with displeasure. “Enough.”

Wei Wuxian did not look away from Jin Zixuan.

Lan Qiren’s frown deepened. “We will discuss this tomorrow. Disperse.”

Wei Wuxian said nothing as the disciples hesitantly backed away. Jin Zixuan wiped blood from his lip, eyes burning with humiliation, but he did not retaliate.

Lan Wangji remained rooted in place, his gaze unreadable.

Wei Wuxian breathed in relief.

It’s done.

—

The morning air was tense as the leaders of Yunmeng Jiang, Lanling Jin, and Gusu Lan gathered in Songfeng Shiyue Pavilion. The disciples stood in careful rows outside, murmuring among themselves.

Wei Wuxian knelt before them, his head bowed.

Jiang Fengmian’s gaze was unreadable. Jin Guangshan sat with his usual practiced smile, while Lan Qiren’s expression was a mask of rigid discipline.

Yu Ziyuan, standing at the forefront, radiated cold fury.

Lan Qiren spoke first. “Wei Wuxian, do you deny your actions?”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head slightly. “No.”

Jiang Cheng exhaled sharply.

Jin Guangshan chuckled. “Ah, so the boy admits it.” His gaze flickered to Jiang Fengmian. “Jiang-xiong, what do you say to this?”

Jiang Fengmian did not immediately respond. His eyes rested on Wei Wuxian, searching, but Wei Wuxian kept his expression carefully neutral.

It was Yu Ziyuan who spoke instead.

“This disgrace is not acceptable,” she said, her voice like a blade.

Lan Qiren folded his hands behind his back. “The Gusu Lan Sect does not tolerate such behavior.”

Jin Guangshan leaned forward slightly, his smirk deepening. “Expulsion would be the most appropriate response.”

Wei Wuxian smiled. There it is.

Lan Wangji, who had remained silent the entire time, suddenly spoke.

“Punishment is sufficient.”

Everyone turned to him.

Yu Ziyuan’s gaze sharpened. “Lan er-gongzi,” she said coolly, “this is not your concern.”

Lan Wangji’s jaw tightened. “He has already been punished for his past offense. Expulsion is unnecessary.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath caught.

For a fleeting moment, something like regret curled in his chest.

But then, Jiang Cheng scoffed under his breath. “Maybe this will finally knock some sense into you.”

The regret vanished.

Wei Wuxian turned to Yu Ziyuan and bowed deeply. “As you command, Madam Yu.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Yu Ziyuan nodded curtly.

And just like that, it was over.

—

Time for goodbyes, then.

Not that there was anyone he should be saying goodbye to.

Except, maybe, Lan Zhan.

But that would be foolish, wouldn’t it?

Lan Zhan had been suspicious, and rightfully so. His questions, his quiet scrutiny—it was only a matter of time before he uncovered something Wei Wuxian couldn’t afford to explain.

It was good that he was leaving.

Whatever suspicions Lan Zhan had, whatever questions lingered on his tongue, once Wei Wuxian was gone, they would fade. Forgotten, just like him.

That was how it had to be.

And yet, despite knowing all this. Despite the necessity of his departure, he still found himself here. Just as he always did when the weight of his emotions became too much to bear.

The back hill was quiet, the scent of damp earth and pine heavy in the air. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the clearing. Wei Wuxian crouched among the rabbits, fingers threading absently through their soft fur.

His hand trembled.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to hold on. He had prepared for this and had accepted it. It was the only way.

And yet—

“Why do you have so many rabbits, Hanguang-jun?”

A-Yuan had asked the question with the easy curiosity of youth, watching the rabbits hop around their feet. He had grown taller, more composed, but in moments like these, Wei Wuxian could still see the child who once clung to his robes.

Lan Zhan had been silent for a moment before answering. “They bring peace.”

“Do they ever leave?”

“Some.” Lan Zhan's hand rested lightly against a rabbit’s back, his fingers tracing its soft fur. “But they always return.”

A-Yuan nodded, thoughtful. “They must really like it here.”

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Of course! Where else can they be so pampered? A-Yuan, did you know? Hanguang-jun sings to them.”

Lan Zhan stiffened. A-Yuan’s eyes had gone wide.

“Really? Can I hear?”

Wei Wuxian laughed so hard he nearly toppled over, A-Yuan giggling beside him. It was light, easy. Like happiness was something they could keep..

But it wasn't.

The memory pressed down on him, sharp as a blade. His breath came unsteady, his chest aching with something too big to name.

He could still hear A-Yuan’s laughter. Could still see Lan Zhan's face, steady and warm in the night. But they were ghosts now, slipping through his fingers.

This is it, he thought. This is the last time.

Tomorrow, he will leave.

He would never see Lan Zhan again.

The thought shattered something deep inside him.

A choked breath slipped past his lips, followed by another. His hands curled into his robes, gripping tight, as if holding himself together. But it was no use. He pressed a hand against his mouth, shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked his body.

He was breaking.

A step sounded behind him.

Wei Wuxian stiffened, hastily wiping his face.

"Are you alright?"

The voice was steady, cool, but it carried a warmth that only made the ache in Wei Wuxian’s chest grow sharper. He swallowed thickly, trying to sound normal, even though his voice cracked.

“Y-yeah.”

"Lying is forbidden."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "I know..." He turned slightly, enough to catch Lan Zhan's steady gaze as always, but softer than before. Suspicious still, but warm enough to burn.

"Who are you?"

His smile turned sharp, brittle at the edges. "Really, Lan Wangji? I haven't even left yet and you’ve already forgotten who I am?"

"You said your name is Wei Wuxian."

"I am."

"You don’t act like him."

Wei Wuxian exhaled, slow. "And you act like you know me. Do you—" He turned fully, meeting Lan Wangji’s golden eyes head-on. "—know me?"

Lan Wangji hesitated. "I do not. But the people who do seem to think you are different."

Wei Wuxian huffed a quiet laugh, something bitter curling at the edges. "And you? What does your heart tell you?"

He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have done this. He already knew that no version of the answer would satisfy him.

"My heart is not part of this conversation."

Wei Wuxian’s smile cracked, just a little. "It is now.”

A long silence. The wind stirred between them, ruffling the fur of the rabbits still gathered at Wei Wuxian’s feet.

Lan Wangji's voice was quiet when it came. "My heart does not know you."

Something inside Wei Wuxian twisted so sharply it felt like he was dying again for the second time. Or was it the third now?

He should be relieved. This was how it should be. He had done everything right. This was why he came back—to give Lan Zhan a future free of suffering, free of him.

And yet, the ache in his chest was so unbearable he thought he'd faint again.

But Wei Wuxian held on. He pressed his lips together, swallowing against the sharp sting behind his eyes. His hands found their way to the rabbits, fingers curling into soft fur. Grounding himself. Holding on.

Then, with a quiet breath, he scooped one up and nudged it toward Lan Wangji.

“For you,” Wei Wuxian said instead, ignoring all the feelings that's been threatening to spill.

"Pets are not allowed in Cloud Recesses,” came the predictable reply.

His voice wobbled, but he forced a smile. "Right. I’ll take them then. Something to eat on the road."

Lan Wangji’s brow twitched, disapproving, but he didn’t move away.

Wei Wuxian let out another shaky laugh. "Kidding. Just kidding." His hand lingered on the rabbit’s fur before setting it back down. "Take care of them for me?”

A beat.

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian inhaled, steadying himself, then reached into his robes. He hesitated only for a second before pulling out a book and holding it out.

Lan Wangji blinked at it. “What is this?”

Wei Wuxian forced a smile. “You like books, don’t you? Consider it a gift. For standing up for me in front of the clan leaders. That was unnecessary but thank you.”

Lan Wangji took it, eyes narrowing as he flipped through the pages.

Talisman scripts. Protective arrays. Methods to strengthen their structures against fire, against intruders. A new protection talisman that's hinged on their bloodline, meant to safeguard their most secret places.

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened around the edges. “These are—”

Wei Wuxian’s smile softened, something sad curling at the corners. “They’ll help. The world is getting more dangerous, and I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I thought you might like them.”

Lan Wangji stared at him, unreadable.

Then, quietly, he said, “Call me Lan Zhan.”

Wei Wuxian froze.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

Lan Zhan. Not Second Young Master Lan. No longer Lan Wangji.

Just Lan Zhan.

His throat tightened. He wanted to say it. He really, really did.

Instead, he took a step back and bowed. “Take care of yourself, Lan Wangji.”

Something flickered across Lan Zhan’s face—too quick, too fleeting for Wei Wuxian to grasp.

Wei Wuxian turned before he could change his mind. Before he did something foolish, like call him Lan Zhan or confess or kiss him senseless.

By the time Lan Wangji found the words he wanted to say, Wei Wuxian was already gone.

Chapter Text

It's done. Wei Wuxian is free.

For days since seceding from the Jiangs, he wandered with no destination, no attachments, no weight of expectations pressing on his shoulders. He worked when he needed coin, took shelter where he could, and convinced himself that this was enough. That despite everything, he was doing well.

Then, one evening, he passed a street vendor selling paper lanterns. A father knelt beside his child, murmuring soft instructions as they lit a candle together. The lantern lifted into the sky, joining dozens of others, flickering like stars.

Wei Wuxian's breath caught.

He remembered a boy’s laughter, small hands grasping at his sleeve. He remembered a low voice at his side, steady as a mountain, watching over them both. He remembered warmth. His family. His home.

He turned away before he could think better of it. Before the ache in his chest could swallow him whole.

The next thing he knew, he was in an inn, a half-finished jug of Emperor’s Smile before him, and another few unopened ones waiting their turn.

The inn was quiet. Not empty, but quiet, just the way he needed it to be. The scent of wine and damp wood lingered in the air, the low murmur of other patrons a distant hum, like waves lapping against the shore.

For the first time since he returned, he was untethered. No clan, no sect, no obligations. No one to answer to.

He should feel free.

And yet, he had never felt more caged.

His hands trembled as he poured himself another cup. He had walked away from Yunmeng Jiang. Left everything behind. Left Lan Zhan.

Had he made the right choice? Is leaving really the only path?

"Choice? Don’t make me laugh. Where will you go, then? Who will take you in? Or are you so arrogant to think you can survive alone?"

Wei Wuxian squeezed his eyes shut. Madam Yu’s words echoed in his head, sharp as a blade. How predictable, the Jiangs. Always so determined to remind him of his place. As if they had a right to. As if they had ever truly wanted him.

He poured another cup, the wine sloshing unsteadily. His hands were steady in battle, but here, now, they trembled.
He downed the cup in one go, letting the burn of the alcohol wash over him.

And then, as if summoned by the very act of drinking, the memories came.

"Every lifetime," Lan Zhan had whispered against his skin, his breath warm in the dim candlelight of their bedroom.

Wei Wuxian laughed, soft and teasing. "You sound so sure."

Lan Zhan lifted himself onto one elbow, his golden eyes steady, unwavering. "I am sure." He reached out, tracing his fingers along Wei Wuxian’s cheek. "No matter where you go, in this life or the next, I will find you."

Wei Wuxian swallowed, struck silent by the certainty in his husband’s gaze. He reached up, grasping Lan Zhan's hand and pressing a kiss to his palm.

"Then I’ll marry you in every lifetime," he murmured, a promise sealed in the quiet of their shared bed. "No matter what happens, I will always find you and I will always choose you."

Wei Wuxian clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the cup in his hand.

That was a promise he had broken.

In every lifetime.

But not this one.

Because Wei Wuxian wouldn’t let him.

He had found Lan Zhan again, but this time, he had walked away, deliberately ensuring that Lan Zhan would never love him in this one. He had buried his love deep beneath duty, convinced himself that staying away was the only way to protect him.

It wasn’t that he wanted to break their promise.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone.

It was just that—

Lan Zhan had already lost him once.

Wei Wuxian had lost him twice.

He couldn’t bear to do it again.

If Lan Zhan loved him in this life, if they chose each other again—what then? Would the world let them be? Would fate be kinder this time, or would it tear them apart once more?

Wei Wuxian exhaled shakily, rubbing at his face.

He had spent a lifetime believing he was untouchable, believing that no matter what, he could laugh off pain, brush aside loss, survive whatever came his way. But then he had loved Lan Zhan. And in loving him, he had found the one thing he couldn’t survive losing.

So he wasn’t taking the risk.

He wasn’t going to put Lan Zhan through that pain again, wasn’t going to risk them loving each other only for fate to rip them apart.

And if it meant being miserable, if it meant breaking his own heart every day for the rest of his life, then so be it.

He could endure anything.

As long as it meant Lan Zhan never had to endure losing him again.

A bitter laugh escaped him.

Was he doing the right thing?

Was it truly right to deny them both a chance at happiness?

Would his husband, the man who had once held him so tightly and promised to chase him across lifetimes, be proud of him now? Knowing that Wei Wuxian was deliberately keeping them apart?

Would he understand?

Would he forgive?

He squeezed his eyes shut as more memories came.

"Wei Ying."

"Mn?" Wei Wuxian had hummed, shifting to look at him.

Lan Wangji hesitated, then said, "You are my home."

Wei Wuxian had blinked, stunned into silence. And then, foolishly, he laughed. "So serious, Lan Zhan!"

But Lan Zhan had only held him tighter. "I mean it."

Wei Wuxian had let himself sink into that embrace, closing his eyes. "Then I’ll always come home to you," he whispered, meaning every word.

But he wasn’t going home. He wasn’t letting Lan Wangji love him in this life.

He was a liar. And a coward.

His hands trembled as he reached for the jug again, but this time, his grip faltered. The wine spilled across the table, soaking into his sleeves, but he barely noticed.

If Lan Zhan saw him now—drunk, grieving, breaking apart in some nameless inn—what would he say?

Would he be disappointed?

Would he be angry?

Would he reach out, brush the hair from Wei Wuxian’s face and say, Come home?

His breath hitched. His chest ached.

But there was no warm hand reaching for him this time. No quiet Wei Ying whispered into the night.

There was only silence.

And Wei Wuxian, utterly alone, drowning in the weight of a love he could never let go of.

Wei Wuxian let out a breathless laugh, tilting his head back. "Fuck," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. The wine burned in his throat, but nothing could burn away the pain seared into his bones.

My heart does not know you.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, landing in his cup.

Wei Wuxian squeezed his eyes shut. This is for the best. He had walked away so Lan Zhan could have a life free of the burdens he carried. He had convinced himself that it was the right thing to do, that leaving was the only way to keep him safe. And happy. Alive.

But safety was a hollow thing compared to love.

His hands curled into fists. The warmth of Lan Zhan's body, the way he would look at him like Wei Wuxian was the only thing that mattered—all of it was gone now.

Lost, because Wei Wuxian had let it go.

Lan Zhan, I miss you. I miss you so much, I don’t know how to breathe without you.

The ache in his chest clawed its way up his throat, a sob threatening to break free, but he swallowed it down with more wine. This was his choice, he reminded himself again. He had chosen to live in the shadows, to ensure a future where Lan Zhan was safe, even if it meant being forgotten.

He was free now. Free to drift. Free to disappear.

And still, every part of him remained tied to Lan Zhan.

“You’ve had enough, haven’t you?”

The voice was soft, carrying just enough weight to cut through the haze in his mind.

Wei Wuxian blinked sluggishly, turning his head.

A woman had settled into the seat across from him.

He almost dismissed her outright, ready to wave her off like all the other well-meaning strangers tonight.

Until he got a good look at her face.

His breath caught.

She looked familiar.

She looked so much like A-yuan.

The resemblance was so startling that for one disoriented moment, he thought he was hallucinating. She had the same warm eyes, the same gentle tilt of her mouth, the same quiet presence that made his chest tighten with a painful, unspoken longing.

Wei Wuxian swallowed, gripping his cup as if it might ground him. It’s just a coincidence. Just a trick of the light.

“And who might you be?” he asked, voice rough from drink.

She smiled, neither intrusive nor hesitant. “Wen Feng.”

Wen.

His fingers twitched slightly.

She must have seen the flicker of recognition in his expression because her smile turned wry. “Not that kind of Wen. I'm a healer.”

Wei Wuxian exhaled slowly, setting his cup down. He tilted his head, studying her. “Well, Wen-guniang, what are you doing here unaccompanied, approaching strangers without a care in the world?”

“I’m not unaccompanied. I’m waiting for my husband,” she corrected easily, absently running a hand over the sleeve of her robes. “I have… good news for him.”

Her voice softened on the last words, a private sort of warmth slipping into her expression.

Wei Wuxian’s gaze flickered to her stomach, but she wasn’t showing yet. Still, the way she rested a protective hand against it for just a second told him enough.

Something inside him ached.

A-yuan.

But he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he raised a brow, forcing a smirk. “Ah, so you’re just passing the time by entertaining drunks?”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Not exactly. I just…” She hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought you shouldn’t be alone.”

Wei Wuxian almost laughed. He did want to be alone. But there was something about her, something familiar, something safe.

“So…?” Wen Feng prompted when the silence stretched. “Your name? I gave you mine, didn’t I?”

Right. Politeness. It was customary to introduce oneself.

But who was he now? Wei Wuxian of Nowhere? The Yiling Laozu? A nameless rogue?

The weight of his name felt too heavy to carry tonight.

So instead, he offered a ghost of a smile and said, “Just nobody.”

Wen Feng gave him a long, knowing look but didn’t press further. “A nobody who looks like he’s trying to disappear.”

Wei Wuxian huffed a soft, breathless laugh. “Is it working?”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “I can still see you.”

No, of course it wasn’t working. Because no matter how much he drank, no matter how far he ran, the pain, the grief, the loneliness stayed with him.

Wen Feng must have seen something in his face because she sighed, rubbing a slow circle against her wrist. “If it helps, I understand the feeling.”

Wei Wuxian scoffed. “Oh? You’re also a nobody drowning your sorrows in wine?”

She smirked. “No. But I do know what it’s like to feel adrift.”

Her gaze drifted toward the door, a flicker of something troubled in her expression. “Everything feels uncertain lately. Wen Ruohan’s been more paranoid than usual, looking for threats in every shadow, demanding more loyalty, more blood for his growing army. No one knows why he's in such a rush, but it’s making things…” She exhaled sharply. “Difficult.”

Wei Wuxian stilled.

The Wens were preparing for war. Yet here he was, wallowing in self-pity, pretending the world wasn’t still moving without him.

Wen Feng shook her head, as if shaking off the weight of her own thoughts. Then, with a gentler tone, she said, “But let's not talk about that. What about you? What’s making you drink like this?”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth, and then closed it.

Because how could he explain that the person he missed the most was someone he had willingly left behind? That he had broken promises meant for lifetimes?

That he wasn’t even sure if he was doing the right thing anymore?

He took a slow breath and smiled bitterly.

“…Everything.”

She said nothing, waiting.

“I’m doing the right thing,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the familiarity of her face. Maybe it was the illusion, even for just a moment, that he was talking to his son. “I have to.”

Wen Feng let him continue.

He exhaled shakily. “If I let him love me, I’ll only hurt him again. I’ll ruin everything. So I have to make sure it never happens.”

A pause.

“And how has that been going on for you so far, hmm?” Wen Feng asked, eyes drifting to the empty bottles on his table.

Wei Wuxian stiffened. He opened his mouth, ready with some careless, flippant reply. Ready to brush it off, to turn it into a joke.

But Wen Feng continued.

She leaned forward slightly, studying him with those warm, knowing eyes. “You say you’re protecting him, and in doing so, you are also suffering.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched. But Wen Feng isn't done.

“You’re assuming that if you let him love you, everything will go wrong. But what if it doesn’t?” She tilted her head. “What if you’re denying yourselves happiness for nothing?”

What if?

Wei Wuxian had no time for what-ifs. He can't risk it. He had spent years living in certainty—certainty that the world was cruel, that fate was unkind, that love was a luxury he wasn’t allowed to keep.

But what if he was wrong?

What if, by running, he wasn’t saving Lan Zhan at all?

The thought was unbearable.

So instead of answering, Wei Wuxian laughed, soft and bitter. “You’re awfully nosy for a stranger.”

She didn’t take offense. Her voice remained gentle, careful—like she knew she had no right to say anything but felt compelled to anyway. “And you’re awfully sad for someone who believes he’s doing the right thing.”

Wei Wuxian’s jaw clenched.

She didn’t know him. She didn’t know the weight of his choices, the sacrifices that clawed at his ribs like a beast trying to escape. And yet, somehow, her words dug into something raw, something he wasn’t ready to face.

Wen Feng must have sensed it because she hesitated, then said, “I know it's not my place, because we don't know each other but… if you need someone to listen, or someone to give another perspective, I'm here.”

It was the way she said it—soft, without pressure—that made him pause.

He should say no. What did it matter what she thought? She didn’t know the details, didn’t know the history carved into his bones, the promises shattered at his feet.

But she also wasn’t tangled in his past. She wasn’t waiting for him to slip, to fail, to prove them all right.

Maybe an outside view was exactly what he needed.

“I love him so much,” he whispered brokenly, finally letting go. The confession slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Lan Zhan wasn’t just his love—he was his entire world. The warmth of a home he would never return to, the gentle touch of someone who knew him down to his soul. The quiet understanding, the certainty that no matter what, he had someone to stand beside him.

Wen Feng said nothing, watching him carefully. Listening, as she had offered.

“Did you know, we used to make promises?” He tilted his head, eyes glassy. “Every lifetime, no matter what, we’d find each other. We’d marry each other.” His smile trembled. “We broke so many bathtubs.”

Wen Feng blinked. “…What?”

Wei Wuxian chuckled, though it was wet with tears. “My beloved.. he has a thing for baths, and well—” He waved his hand vaguely, his cheeks flushing. “We weren’t exactly careful.”

Wei Wuxian squeezed his eyes shut. He dug his fingers into his forehead as if that could push the memory away, but it was everywhere. The past wouldn’t stop bleeding into the present.

“You’re a fool,” Wen Feng said, cutting through his thoughts.

Wei Wuxian let out a choked, humorless laugh. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” she shot back. “You think you’re protecting him, but all you’re doing is hurting yourself.”

Wei Wuxian flinched. It doesn't matter, he can take it.

“You keep saying you love him.” She leaned forward, gaze piercing. “Then why don't you stay?”

Because—

Because if he stayed, Lan Zhan would suffer.

Because he couldn’t let himself be selfish.

Because he was afraid.

Afraid that if he stayed, if he let himself hope, it would all be torn away from him again.

His hands trembled. His lips parted, but no words came out.

“You think you’re saving him from pain,” Wen Feng continued. “But you’re making that choice for him. Did he ever ask you to do this? Did he ever say that loving you wasn’t worth the risk?”

He had no answer for that.

Because he knew.

Lan Zhan had never once hesitated. Never once regretted choosing him. Never once treated their love as something fragile, something to be abandoned at the first sign of trouble.

Lan Zhan had always chosen him.

And yet.

This time, Wei Wuxian was choosing for him.

“What if he's hurt again because of me?”

Wen Feng’s gaze softened. “Maybe. Maybe not. Didn't you say you're always going to find each other in any lifetime?”

“Doesn’t mean I’d just wait for him to be hurt, to let him go through unbearable pain again. Not in this life, not if I can help it. You don’t know what he endured for me. I can’t let that happen again.” Wei Wuxian’s voice was suddenly sharp, defensive. Desperate.

Wen Feng didn’t flinch. She just studied him, quiet for a long moment, before speaking again.

“If he was in your place,” Wen Feng continued, her voice softer now, “if he had left you, believing it was for your own good… Would you be grateful? Would you move on?”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched.

If their positions were reversed and if he was the one left behind, if he was forced to live without the love that had once been promised to him—

He would have searched the ends of the earth to find him again.

He would have torn through mountains and rivers just to see him one more time.

And yet he was expecting him to do what he never could.

Wei Wuxian let out a broken sound, something between a laugh and a sob. His vision blurred.

He had promised.

Promised that no matter what, they would always find their way back to each other.

Promised that nothing would keep them apart.

And yet here he was, the one breaking everything.

“I love him,” Wei Wuxian whispered. His voice cracked, raw with grief. “I love him so much it hurts.”

Wen Feng didn’t speak at first, letting the silence stretch. Then, quietly, she said, “Then take the chance. You’re alive, aren’t you? And so is he. It’s not over, gong-zi. Not unless you let it be.”

My heart does not know you.

Wei Wuxian let out a slow, shuddering breath.His grip tightened around the cup, knuckles white.

“It is over,” he murmured.

She frowned, about to argue, but he only shook his head.

“It’s too late,” he said, quieter this time. The words felt heavy, like stones in his mouth. “The decision is made. And he… his heart no longer remembers me.”

There it was. The truth, spoken aloud, final and irreversible.

A quiet wind passed through the open door of the inn, rattling the lanterns. Wen Feng exhaled, watching him carefully, searching his face for something—hope, regret, hesitation. Anything.

But he had none left to give.

Wei Wuxian pressed the heel of his palm against his chest, as if he could force the pain back inside, as if he could hold himself together for just a moment longer. But his shoulders shook. His breath hitched.

And then—

He broke.

He buried his face in his hands and wept.

For his love.
For their son.
For himself.
For the cruel, bitter irony of it all.

Wen Feng said nothing. She just sat there, offering silent understanding, watching as Wei Wuxian unraveled before her.

And for the first time since leaving everything behind, since stepping into the world as a man without a name—

Wei Wuxian let himself grieve.

Chapter Text

Then take the chance. You’re alive, aren’t you? And so is he. It’s not over, gong-zi. Not unless you let it be.

Wei Wuxian had wanted to laugh, to scoff and shake his head, to tell her she didn’t understand. But the words never came.

Because a small, selfish part of him wanted to believe her.

A quiet voice, buried deep beneath all the grief and guilt, echoed Wen Feng: There is still time. You have another chance. You can still make this right.

Right…

Of course he could make this right. Not in the way he wanted, nor in the way of what's truly in his heart.

But it'll be right in the way where he moved forward. He could carve out something new, something quiet, something steady. A life that was free, a life that was peaceful, just as Lan Zhan would have wanted for him.

So it wasn't very long after that drunken conversation at the inn when Wei Wuxian finally settled.

Not at first and maybe not truly. Not in the way people do when they build a home and let their roots take hold. He told himself he was only stopping to catch his breath, to wait, to think and to figure out where he would go next.

But the days passed, and then the weeks, and then the months.

He had chosen a small valley, nestled between the capital and the cultivation world, far enough that no sect would take much interest, but close enough that he could still hear whispers of their affairs if he cared to listen.

At first, his days were restless. He rose early with the sun as he had been used to in the past, only to find himself with nothing to do. No kids to teach, no juniors to instruct, and no husband to kiss and make love with. So he wandered. Walked the hills, mapped out the rivers, traced the edges of the village markets where no one knew his name. But idleness was not in his nature, and soon, his hands itched for work.

So he farmed.

Not well, not at first, and not because he lacked the skills. His husband had gifted him a plot of land during their wedding, so he knew how to work the soil, and how to care for crops. But this land seemed uncooperative. His first attempt at planting was a disaster. The rows were crooked, his watering inconsistent and the plants just wouldn't grow. It took time, but Wei Wuxian was nothing if not quick to learn.

Soon, his fields flourished. Vegetables, herbs, and a handful of fruit trees lined the back. He built a small coop, traded for chickens, bartered for a few goats, and spent weeks fixing the fencing after they kept escaping.

It was hard work. Honest work. And it exhausted him in a way that was different from battle, from scheming, from constantly trying to stay a step ahead. At night, he collapsed into bed aching but satisfied, hands calloused from labor instead of bloodshed.

He told himself he had no need for company, that this peace was what he had always wanted. But he lingered in the marketplace, stayed too long at the stalls, and let the shopkeepers tease him about how much he haggled for his rice. He helped the old woman next door chase her unruly geese, let the village children drag him into their games. He told himself he didn’t care.

But when he returned home to an empty house, silence pressing in around him, he felt the weight of it settle deep in his bones.

So he played his flute.

Not for anyone nor for any purpose. And never Wangxian. He doesn't think he can bear it.

Because playing it now without guqin feels wrong.

Because playing it now would only remind him of all that he had lost and all that he had thrown away.

Because playing it now would mean acknowledging that once, they had a love worthy of a song. And in this life, he was the one denying it.

So instead, he played other songs. Only to fill the space. Some nights, his melodies were light, full of warmth and mischief. Other nights, they were heavy and aching.

And sometimes, when the wind was right, he let his spiritual energy slip into the notes, shaping tiny illusions, dancing lights in the dark, flickering like fireflies. Just a little magic. Just enough to remind himself that he was still Wei Wuxian. That he had not entirely abandoned who he was.

He is still Wei Wuxian. He will never forget who he was.

For so long, he had lived with a missing core, a body too weak to bear the weight of what it once held. But this time, his strength was his own.

He honed it, tested its limits, pushed himself further than he ever had before.

And for the first time in both his lives, Wei Wuxian was free to reach his full potential.

It was a quiet existence. Lonely, mostly. But bearable.

And sometimes, when the grief was too much, when the silence pressed in too tightly, he talked to his husband.

Wei Wuxian sat on the small porch of his house, a clay jar of wine beside him. The night stretched dark and endless with the wind rustling through the trees.

He poured himself a drink, then another. Then, with a wry smile, he lifted his cup as if in a toast.

"Good evening, Lan Zhan," he said softly. "How are you? Are you eating well?"

The night answered with nothing but the whisper of the wind.

Wei Wuxian let out a breathy chuckle, tipping his head back.

"I sold a lot at the market today," he continued, filling the silence himself. "The aunties tried to marry me off again. Popo said I should just settle down already. I almost said, ‘But I’m married already!’” He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself.

The thought made his throat tighten.

He drank. The wine burned as it went down, but he barely felt it.

"My new flute plays well," he murmured. His fingers traced the blue-and-white carvings along its surface. "You’d probably say I should practice my sword more, though. I still do, you know. It’s… difficult, without a sparring partner. But I try."

The breeze carried the distant hum of crickets, the rustling of the trees. Wei Wuxian stared up at the night sky, the stars blurred slightly at the edges.

"I hope you're happy," he whispered. "I hope you're eating properly, sleeping well and taking care of our rabbits. I'm sorry I wasn’t there to help you."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"I’m sorry," he said again, and this time, the laugh that escaped him was bitter. "I left you so abruptly, didn’t I? I should have stayed. I should have—"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his eyes.

"But no, that’s foolish, isn’t it?" His voice softened, barely more than a breath. "It’s better this way. You didn’t get the chance to love me this time, so you won’t have to miss me. You can’t grieve for something you never had."

And yet, when he closed his eyes, he could still hear Lan Zhan’s voice, quiet and unwavering, the last thing he ever said to him before they parted.

Call me Lan Zhan.

The wind picked up, whispering through the night, curling around him like unseen hands.

Wei Wuxian swallowed hard.

"I miss you, Lan Zhan," he whispered.

He closed his eyes.

And in the quietest part of his heart, where longing still lived, where old promises refused to fade, he allowed himself a selfish wish.

That maybe, just maybe…

Lan Zhan would find him again

—

Despite Wei Wuxian’s growing powers, he kept to himself. And he had learned to ignore rumors.

They came like the seasons, drifting through the market stalls, whispered between travelers at roadside inns. Whispers of war and greed, of sect disputes and imperial corruption.

But as long as the world kept turning, as long as there was no immediate danger, he let them pass.

It wasn’t his business. Not anymore.

But sometimes, trouble found him anyway.

It started with a trip to the capital.

He rarely left his quiet valley, but now and then, necessity drove him to larger markets. The capital had the best trade routes, rare herbs, and sometimes, just good wine.

A few days in the bustling city, slipping through the crowds like a ghost, bartering over prices, then disappearing before he caught too much attention.

At least, that had been the plan.

It fell apart when a little child darted past him, a stolen bun clutched in his hands.

The shopkeeper was faster, a meaty hand catching the boy by the collar. “Thief!” he spat. “Filthy little rat!”

The child struggled, panic flaring in his eyes.

The shopkeeper raised his hand.

A firm grip caught his wrist mid-swing. “Let him go,” Wei Wuxian said, voice light but unyielding.

The shopkeeper hesitated. "And who are you, huh?"

"Someone with money to pay for the bun and more." Wei Wuxian flicked a few coins onto the counter. "See? No harm done."

Grumbling, the man let the boy go. He stumbled back, eyes darting between Wei Wuxian and the ground.

"Eat slowly and keep some for later," Wei Wuxian said, handing the boy a couple more buns before walking away.

He didn’t expect to see him again.

But later that night, as he sat nursing a cup of cheap wine in a quiet teahouse, a small figure slipped into the seat across from him.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head. The little boy.

“They took her,” the boy whispered.

“Took who?” Wei Wuxian asked, appearing uninterested.

“My jiejie,” the boy said, voice small but steady. “She’s gone. Like the others.”

—

Wei Wuxian never liked staying in the capital for too long. Too many people. Too many eyes. He had only returned for trade, and yet—

He'd been told four women had vanished in the past two weeks.

And now, the little boy's sister.

No bodies. No ransom. No suspects.

He had no interest in heroics. He had no duty to this city, to these people.

But he still found himself lingering, ears open and listening, and sometimes, asking quesions.

And that was a mistake.

Because the capital was full of white robes.

Not his white robes.

Not crisp, snowy silks embroidered with clouds and righteousness.

But still, they flickered at the edges of his vision.

Every now and then, a glimpse of pale fabric would make his breath hitch. For half a heartbeat, his body would betray him.

Then reality would settle.

No golden gaze. No guqin strapped to a back. No silent, steady presence at his side.

Just strangers.

Wei Wuxian exhaled, shaking his head at himself. He had no right to think of Lan Zhan.

Not when he had chosen this.

He turned into a bustling street, trying to push those thoughts aside.

That's when he felt the weight of someone's gaze.

Not directly. Just a flicker of a presence that hadn’t been there before.

Wei Wuxian didn’t change his pace, but his senses sharpened. Across the teahouse courtyard, a man leaned against a pillar, sipping tea. His robes were dark, his posture relaxed but too aware.

A man. Someone who knew how to move unnoticed.

Wei Wuxian smiled to himself. Interesting.

He continued walking at a natural pace, stepping into a quieter street.

The man followed.

Not obviously. Not clumsily. But Wei Wuxian could feel it.

Wei Wuxian turned into an empty alley and then stopped.

Behind him, the footsteps stopped too.

Wei Wuxian smiled slightly. Got you.

“Are you lost?” he asked, turning slightly.

The man stood at the entrance of the alley, watching him. Now that they were alone, Wei Wuxian could study him properly. Early twenties, lean but strong, his red robes worn at the edges. He had the look of a noble—not Lan Zhan beautiful, but striking in his own way.

His eyes were sharp. Calculating.

And beneath that, something else.

Wei Wuxian recognized it immediately.

Interest.

He almost laughed.

He’d seen that look before many times, in another life, when he was young and wild, and even after he got married. When people had mistaken his easy charm for an invitation, when he had deflected it all with a careless smile and turned toward the only one who had ever mattered.

But he wasn’t that Wei Wuxian anymore.

And this man wasn’t—

Well. He wasn’t him.

So whatever game this stranger thought he was playing, Wei Wuxian had no intention of playing along.

The man took a step closer. “When did you arrive?”

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow at the interrogation. “A few days ago.”

The man’s gaze flickered over him, assessing.

“A lot of women have gone missing in the past few weeks. You appear in the city, and suddenly, there’s another.”

Wei Wuxian sighed. “Are you accusing me of something?”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward again.

Too close.

Wei Wuxian’s spine stiffened before he caught himself. He could feel the heat of his body against the cool night air. The barest shift in breath, the deliberate weight of a gaze meant to unsettle. The kind of gaze that made a person want to lean in.

Wei Wuxian met his eyes, unimpressed. “If you’re trying to intimidate me, I should warn you. I scare much more easily when I’ve had good wine.”

The man’s lips curved slightly. “And when you haven’t?”

Wei Wuxian smiled, teeth flashing. “Then I’m much worse.”

The man tilted his head, amused. “Is that so?”

Wei Wuxian sighed. “Look, if you’re trying to recruit me for some underground gang, I’ll have to decline. I have a very important schedule of drinking, sleeping, selling, and being terribly unremarkable.”

The man let out a breath, almost a laugh. “I doubt that.”

Then, deliberately, he reached out.

Not to grab him.

Just a single finger, tracing along the edge of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve. A touch so light, so fleeting, that it sent a shiver down his arm.

Wei Wuxian barely resisted the urge to flinch.

Not because he was startled.

But because for half a heartbeat, his body expected something else.

A firmer grip. Some calloused fingers.

Someone who had always held him.

His throat tightened.

The man’s finger lingered. Just for a second.

Wei Wuxian forced his smile to remain easy, careless. “Careful,” he said lightly. “You might make a man think you like him.”

The man’s eyes darkened, just a fraction. “So what if I do?”

Wei Wuxian exhaled, stepping back first.

The warmth between them broke.

Except there had never really been any warmth to begin with.

Just the ghost of something that was not this.

Not him.

Wei Wuxian straightened, forcing his heartbeat steady. “Well, this has been...not fun,” he said lightly. “But I should be going.”

The man didn’t step aside. He simply looked at him with one slow, deliberate sweep of his gaze, starting from Wei Wuxian’s plain brown robes down to the easy way he stood which is too comfortable for a mere traveler, too knowing for a merchant.

“You’re not just a merchant,” he said finally.

Wei Wuxian let his mouth curve. “And you’re not just a commoner.”

A beat of silence.

Then, unexpectedly, the man smiled. Not a polite smile. Not a false one. A slow, amused curve of his lips, like he enjoyed the challenge.

Finally, the man exhaled. “If you’re looking for work, you won’t find it here.”

Wei Wuxian almost laughed. “How nice of you to tell me.”

The man’s gaze lingered. “You should leave.”

Wei Wuxian rolled his shoulders, glancing at the rooftops above. “But I just got here.”

The man took a step closer, encroaching just enough that Wei Wuxian could catch the scent of faint sandalwood and wine, the warmth of someone too accustomed to using his presence as a weapon.

“I heard you’ve been asking questions,” he said, his voice smooth, almost lazy. “People like that don’t last long here.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head, letting his smile turn sharp. “Ohh? Is that why those girls went missing? Because they were too nosy?”

Something flickered in the man’s gaze—interest, amusement, something sharper just beneath the surface.

“Chenxuan,” the man murmured finally.

Wei Wuxian arched a brow at the almost certainly false name. “Xuanyu.”

Chenxuan’s smirk was slow, deliberate. “Stay out of it, Xuanyu.”

Then, just as easily as he had appeared, he melted into the crowd, his presence lingering like a trick of the light.

Wei Wuxian remained still, watching the empty space where he had been.

Lan Zhan would have hated it here.

Too many shadows. Too many people hiding behind masks.

Too many men who leaned in too close, mistaking proximity for power.

Wei Wuxian exhaled, rubbing his forehead. Stop thinking about him.

But it was easier said than done.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian had been in the capital for a week now, moving through its streets like a ghost. He asked questions in the right places, listened when people thought he wasn’t paying attention, and slowly, a name began to form.

Before he left, he made sure things were in order back at his farm.

“Popo,” he had said, crouching beside her as she sorted vegetables. “Can I trouble you for a favor?”

The old woman swatted his shoulder. “You? Trouble me? Nonsense. What is it, child?”

“I need to be away for a while,” he admitted. “Would you mind feeding the animals? Just for a bit.”

Popo scoffed. “That’s all? Hah, for my future grandson-in-law, this is nothing!”

Wei Wuxian choked. “Popo...”

“Ah, don’t be shy,” she cackled. “Take your time. I’ll make sure everything is waiting for you when you get back.”

He left quickly after that.

—

Wei Wuxian had always been good at ignoring things that didn’t matter. Hunger, exhaustion, a life falling apart. If it wasn’t useful, it wasn’t worth his time.

And yet.

The man in red was still lingering.

Wei Wuxian spotted him again, lounging against a pillar near the marketplace, sipping wine from an expensive-looking flask. He wasn’t watching Wei Wuxian, not directly. But he was there.

Like a bad omen. Like a stray dog that had decided to haunt him.

Wei Wuxian turned his back and continued threading through the crowd, but the irritation coiled under his skin. It wasn’t like Chenxuan had approached him again. It wasn’t like he had done anything.

People in the capital whispered his name like a friendly ghost, someone everyone knew but no one could explain. He drank with the merchants, laughed with the street performers, disappeared when the sun dipped too low. A man with no real home, no real trade, no real purpose yet somehow everyone seemed to like him.

Wei Wuxian didn’t like things he couldn’t explain.

It was irritating.

But dismissing Chenxuan was easy. Wei Wuxian had bigger problems anyway.

Tonight, he had a lead.

A man named Zhao Heng, an influential merchant with ties to multiple noble families, was throwing a banquet. Word on the street was that several of the missing girls had been seen speaking with someone from his household before they vanished.

That was reason enough for Wei Wuxian to slip inside unnoticed.

Dressed as a servant, he moved through the grand hall, keeping his head bowed just enough to avoid scrutiny while his eyes swept the crowd. The elite of the capital were in full force—their laughter and conversation a stark contrast to the fear in the lower districts.

And then, just as he was considering slipping further into the estate, a voice purred behind him.

“You really should get better at sneaking, Xuanyu.”

Wei Wuxian barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And you should get better at minding your own business, Chenxuan.”

Chenxuan smirked, lazy as ever, but his eyes were sharp. “And what exactly is my business, then?”

Wei Wuxian studied him. Chenxuan was dressed differently tonight with a darker, more practical clothing, but his posture gave him away. Not just relaxed confidence, but the kind of ease that came from knowing he belonged here.

Maybe someone important.

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Don’t know, don't care.”

Chenxuan leaned in slightly. “Cold. Real cold, Xuanyu. Actually, would you believe me if I said I was here for the food?”

“No.”

Chenxuan chuckled, but his eyes held something serious beneath the amusement. “Walk with me,” he said instead.

Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. The smart thing to do would be to refuse. But his instincts told him otherwise.

With a sharp nod, he followed.

—

In a secluded courtyard, away from the watchful eyes of the banquet, Chenxuan finally dropped his playful act.

“The disappearances,” he said, voice quieter but carrying weight. “You’re not the only one investigating.”

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms. “And what is your interest in this case?”

Chenxuan’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t like it when someone disrupts my city.”

Wei Wuxian hummed. “Ah, how noble.”

“It’s the truth.”

Wei Wuxian watched him, considering. He knew Chenxuan knew something. Or at least, he thought he did.

And right now, Wei Wuxian needed more information.

“And you? What is your interest in this case? You're not even from here.” Chenxuan asked when the silence stretched.

“A little boy asked for my help.”

Chenxuan smiled. “Hm, handsome and kind,” and then continued as if realizing something, "good.”

Wei Wuxian ignored him and asked seriously, “What do you know?”

Chenxuan’s smirk was gone. “That a very high-ranking official may be involved. Someone powerful enough to cover their tracks and keep people silent.”

Wei Wuxian’s expression didn’t change, but his mind raced. He had suspected as much, but it's not enough. They don't have proof.

“Zhao Heng?” he asked.

Chenxuan scoffed. “Hardly. Zhao Heng is nothing more than a well-dressed errand boy.”

That made sense. A man like Zhao Heng was influential, but this kind of operation required protection from someone even higher up.

Wei Wuxian tapped a finger against his arm. “And you can’t investigate directly because it would put your position at risk.”

Chenxuan gave him a slow, pleased smile. “And clever too. How fascinating!”

Wei Wuxian ignored the way it made his skin itch. “Hmm, and now you want my help.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Chenxuan stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to sound intimate. “We could do great things together, Xuanyu.”

Wei Wuxian let out a slow breath. “Not interested.”

Chenxuan hummed. “Not yet.”

Wei Wuxian chose to ignore that. He had been in the capital too long already. He needed to end this quickly.

“Fine,” he said. “Tell me everything you know.”

Chenxuan smiled, slow and sharp.

And just like that, an alliance was made.

—

Wei Wuxian and Chenxuan worked in quiet tandem over the next few days, threading through the underbelly of the city like shadows. They asked questions that left no trace, leaned on people who owed favors, and pried into places where prying meant losing fingers.

Chenxuan took to the work with an ease that was almost concerning. He had a way of slipping past defenses, of coaxing secrets from lips that should have remained sealed. He would smile, tilt his head just so, and people would talk before they even realized they had.

Wei Wuxian found it amusing, in a detached sort of way.

“You're surprisingly good at this,” he remarked one evening, watching Chenxuan charm an informant out of half his life's regrets.

Chenxuan flashed him a grin. “I’m a man of many talents. Would you like a demonstration?”

Wei Wuxian snorted. “No.”

Chenxuan sighed theatrically. “You wound me, Xuanyu.”

Wei Wuxian ignored him, stepping past to scan their gathered intel. A pattern had begun to emerge, a thread tying the disappearances together. The girls weren’t being sold or killed. They were being hidden. Kept alive, moved between safe houses, shuffled from one end of the city to another before vanishing completely.

Wei Wuxian tapped his fingers against the table, mind whirring. No one takes this many risks without a purpose.

The first break came from a seamstress. One of the girls, she whispered, had been seen at a tailor’s shop before disappearing entirely. The order had been extravagant—silks, gold embroidery, fine fabrics only a noblewoman could afford. Too much for a merchant’s daughter.

The second came from a steward. A girl had left a tea house with an older woman, led away with promises of a better life. The madam, they learned, was no madam at all—but a governess, well-versed in etiquette and courtly manners.

The final piece was, of course, the man they already suspected, dropped by an informant in a gambling den: Zhao Heng. A powerful merchant with deep ties to noble families. A man who had suddenly begun hosting banquets for the elite, drawing in high-ranking officials, scholars, and wealthy patrons alike.

Chenxuan leaned over the table, eyes alight with interest. “You have that look.”

Wei Wuxian arched a brow. “What look?”

“The I’ve-figured-it-out-and-now-I’m-going-to-do-something-reckless look.”

Wei Wuxian grinned. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

Chenxuan hummed, watching him with an intensity that was becoming increasingly familiar. “Not bad. Just dangerous.”

Wei Wuxian waved him off, but Chenxuan only smirked to himself, something unreadable in his gaze.

They had their lead.

And that was where it all unraveled.

—

Zhao Heng had received a steady stream of gold in recent years, despite no known business dealings. His household staff included a private tutor specializing in poetry and music. And most damning of all, his estate had seen multiple young women come and go, none of whom bore his name.

Wei Wuxian’s stomach twisted.

“These girls aren’t being sold,” he said. “They’re being prepared.”

Chenxuan, standing beside him, was unreadable. “For what?”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “To place them somewhere important.”

Silence. Then, a soft exhale.

“Lin,” Chenxuan said.

Wei Wuxian looked at him sharply. "What?"

Chenxuan leaned back, folding his arms. “Minister Lin.”

It fit too well. A man with a pristine reputation, deeply entrenched in the imperial court. Respected. Untouchable. And yet, his name had surfaced in rumors time and time again.

Wei Wuxian exhaled. “A man like that doesn’t risk his career over a coin.”

Chenxuan’s gaze was steady. “No, he doesn’t.”

And that was when it clicked.

It wasn’t about money. It was about power. About control.

Minister Lin was creating his own leverage by taking girls from common families, grooming them, training them, and placing them in high-ranking households as concubines and informants. A slow, careful infiltration of the noble class. A network of spies bound directly to him.

Wei Wuxian let out a sharp breath. “That’s ambitious.”

Chenxuan leaned in, eyes catching the candlelight. “That’s treason.”

There was a beat of silence, thick with understanding.

Wei Wuxian had known powerful men before. Had seen their greed, their corruption. But Chenxuan knew them. Understood their rules, their fears. He wasn’t just hunting the truth. He was playing a game he had been born into.

And he was watching him now with an expression that felt almost interested.

Wei Wuxian ignored the way it made his skin prickle. “We don’t have time for this. Minister Lin has too much influence. If we go to the authorities, he’ll hear of it before they even open a case.”

“Then we don’t give him time to react,” Chenxuan said smoothly. “We move first.”

There was something in the way he said it—calm, and confident, like someone who had never considered losing an option.

Wei Wuxian glanced at him, brow raised. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

Chenxuan smiled, slow and deliberate. “Of course.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, unimpressed. “I don’t want to know.”

Chenxuan tilted his head, gaze lingering a moment too long. Then, he laughed softly, stepping closer. “You really are fascinating, Xuanyu.”

Wei Wuxian, without missing a beat, slapped a handful of reports against Chenxuan’s chest. “Focus, Chenxuan.”

Chenxuan caught them with a smirk.

Yes. He was falling deeper.

And Wei Wuxian, as always, remained completely, utterly unbothered.

—

The girls were being held in an underground chamber beneath one of Zhao Heng’s lesser-known estates. It wasn’t Lin’s personal residence, but it was under his protection, which made it just as damning.

Security was tight. Not tight enough.

Wei Wuxian took the left flank, slipping past guards with practiced ease. A whisper of movement, a flick of his fingers, and one after another, they fell silently.

Chenxuan, on the other hand, was far less subtle.

He strode directly into the main hall, carrying himself like a king in his own court. His voice, when he spoke, was steady. Unshakable.

“Leave.”

And the guards did.

Wei Wuxian found him at the locked doors moments later, the two of them standing in the dim lantern light. He raised a brow. “Must be nice.”

Chenxuan smiled, slow and deliberate. “It is.”

Wei Wuxian huffed, setting talismans along the frame. The door shattered beneath the force of his spell, revealing the frightened eyes of the missing girls.

“You’re safe now,” he declared.

One by one, they followed him into the night.

—

The plan to arrest was simple: expose Minister Lin before he had the chance to move against them. Tonight.

What wasn’t in the plan was Minister Lin hosting a banquet on that same day. Chenxuan had hoped for a quieter arrest to minimize the scandal but that no longer seemed to be an option. And they can't delay this another day.

Wei Wuxian strolled through the entrance with easy confidence, dressed in rich but subdued robes, his smile lazy and charming. Beside him, Chenxuan carried himself with the effortless arrogance of someone who belonged, his gaze sharp despite the pleasant curve of his lips.

“You’re staring again,” Wei Wuxian murmured, plucking a cup of wine from a passing servant’s tray without missing a step.

Chenxuan barely blinked. “You’re hard not to look at.”

Wei Wuxian huffed a laugh. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Chenxuan sighed, feigning disappointment. “I could promise you the world, and you’d still wave me off like an annoying housefly.”

Wei Wuxian took a slow sip of wine, savoring it. “You? A housefly? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re at least a peacock.”

Chenxuan laughed, low and rich, and it was a sound that had made more than one court maiden blush. “Peacocks are vain creatures.”

Wei Wuxian smirked. “Exactly.”

Before Chenxuan could retort, Minister Lin’s voice echoed through the hall. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Tonight is a special occasion.”

“Special?” Wei Wuxian whispered to Chenxuan, slightly confused.

Sensing the audience’s confusion, Minister Lin smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “We have an honored guest. A person of great renown, here to assist with… certain disturbances in the capital.”

Wei Wuxian and Chenxuan exchanged a glance.

So, Minister Lin was getting nervous. And he was moving pieces onto the board.

Well, too late for that, they thought.

They let themselves be led deeper into the banquet, where tables were laden with delicacies and entertainers performed on a raised platform. Conversation flowed around them, and in between polite exchanges and shallow laughter, Wei Wuxian’s mind worked. He picked up snippets of talk—rumors of disappearing daughters, whispers of Minister Lin’s quiet rise in power.

And then the murmuring shifted.

The air itself seemed to change as a figure entered the hall. The crowd parted just enough for the candlelight to catch on white robes and a forehead ribbon, on a face carved from ice and resolve.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers tightened on his cup.

Lan Zhan.

The revelation hit like a blow to the chest. He hadn’t even considered the possibility, hadn’t thought that the special guest Zhao Heng invited could be—

Chenxuan, standing beside him, let out a soft hum. “Now, that is interesting.”

Wei Wuxian swallowed the urge to swear. Of course Minister Lin would bring in an outsider to handle the situation. Someone righteous, someone incorruptible. Someone who would not look the other way.

And out of all the cultivators in the world, it had to be him.

His Lan Zhan. The man he's been trying to avoid.

As Lan Zhan's gaze swept the hall, Wei Wuxian kept his own expression light, casual, and unreadable. Or so he thought.

Chenxuan leaned in just slightly, perceptive as always. “Do I need to be jealous?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian said. “You need to be careful.”

Wei Wuxian could feel Chenxuan staring at him.

“Friend of yours?” Chenxuan asked, amused.

“Something like that,” Wei Wuxian said.

Chenxuan’s smirk widened. “Oh, this just got really interesting.”

Wei Wuxian ignored him.

Lan Zhan hadn’t seen him yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Minister Lin stood, raising his cup. “Hanguang-Jun, your reputation precedes you. We are honored by your presence.”

Lan Wangji gave a slight nod. “What do you require?”

Minister Lin sighed dramatically. “You may have heard of the troubling disappearances in the city. As a humble servant of the people, I sought the best help possible.”

Wei Wuxian clenched his jaw. The sheer audacity of this man.

He was using Lan Zhan's reputation to solidify his own innocence. If Hanguang-Jun was here under his invitation, it meant he was above suspicion.

Chenxuan leaned closer, voice dripping with amusement. “You alright?”

Wei Wuxian exhaled slowly. “Fine.”

As expected, Lan Wangji did not waste time with formalities. “Where is your evidence?”

Minister Lin gestured. “I have my own men investigating, but we lack the refined methods of a great cultivator. I was hoping you could aid in the search.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze was piercing. “Then you have suspects.”

The minister hesitated, then sighed, putting on an air of reluctance. “There are whispers of… unorthodox practitioners in the city.”

Wei Wuxian stiffened.

That bastard.

Minister Lin wasn’t just trying to clear his own name. He was redirecting suspicion onto other, more plausible suspects.

Chenxuan was about to speak when Wei Wuxian moved first. He may not like Chenxuan like that, but he still needed to protect his identity. He can just disappear again later.

“How interesting,” Wei Wuxian said, drawing attention. His expression was pleasant, but his words carried weight. “Yet, I heard differently.”

Lan Wangji, seated among the officials, went utterly still.

Minister Lin turned to Wei Wuxian, composed but wary. “Oh? And who are you?”

Wei Wuxian ignored the curiosity. These people do not need to know him. “The whispers I’ve heard don’t speak of dark cultivators.” He let the room still before delivering the final blow. “They speak of someone in the court.”

The shift in the hall was immediate. Ministers tensed. Officials exchanged glances.

Wei Wuxian didn’t need to look to know Lan Wangji’s gaze was now locked onto him. Shock was subtle on his face—only a slight shift in his posture, a miniscule tightening of his fingers against the table. But Wei Wuxian saw it. Felt it.

Minister Lin’s face darkened. “That is a serious accusation.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile didn’t waver. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes flickered between Wei Wuxian and Minister Lin, unreadable, but Wei Wuxian knew him too well. He was listening. Processing. Likely questioning why Wei Wuxian was even here.

And now, the stage is set.

As planned, one of the missing girls reappeared.

She stumbled into the banquet—disheveled, afraid, but alive. Wei Wuxian had made sure of that.

The moment her teary eyes landed on Minister Lin, she screamed.

Lin stood so quickly his chair tipped over. “This is outrageous—”

The hall erupted.

Minister Lin tried to run. Guards surged forward, but Wei Wuxian beat them to it.

With the grace of a predator, he caught Minister Lin by the wrist, twisting it behind his back with such ease that the room went silent.

Chenxuan took his time stepping closer. “Minister Lin, are you trying to escape? That’s rather suspicious.”

Minister Lin struggled, wild-eyed with surprise and fear at the man who was looking down at him. “Y-y-your—”

“Silence,” Chenxuan commanded, in a voice low but firm.

And Minister Lin had no choice but to be silent. Not a moment later, he was dragged away, and the banquet ended in chaos.

So the case was closed.

The girls were safe.

And Wei Wuxian had two powerful men watching him. One with curiosity.

The other with confusion.

—

Amidst the chaos, Wei Wuxian moved like mist, slipping between guests without a sound, his presence nothing more than a fleeting shadow. The gilded decadence of the banquet blurred past him—the frantic voices, the gasps of realization, the sharp ring of steel as the estate doors were forced open.

Minister Lin would fall. With him, the entire network of stolen girls.

Their work was done.

There was no need to linger. No need to watch the pieces collapse.

Lan Wangji’s presence had been unexpected. A surprise, but not an obstacle. He had caught only the briefest glimpse of white before he vanished again into the crowd, moving unseen.

Or so he thought.

Because just as he passed beneath the glow of a hanging lantern, fingers closed around his wrist.

Wei Wuxian didn’t startle. Didn’t tense. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head just enough to catch the smirk lingering in the shadows.

“Chenxuan.” His voice was smooth, laced with mild annoyance. “Let go.”

Chenxuan, half-illuminated by warm candlelight, smirked deeper. “Make me.”

Wei Wuxian arched a brow. “I’m serious.”

Chenxuan’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it firmed, thumb brushing against the inside of his wrist in a deliberate, slow drag. “So am I. Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“The case is closed.” Wei Wuxian’s tone was light, careless. “My part is over.”

Chenxuan studied him, dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “So that’s it? You slip away like a ghost while the rest of us deal with the aftermath?”

Wei Wuxian smiled. Effortless. Unbothered. In a single movement, he twisted his wrist, breaking free. “Sounds about right.”

Chenxuan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You don’t even wait to see the ending.”

Wei Wuxian’s gaze flickered, knowing. “I already know how it ends.”

Behind them, shouts continued to ring through the hall. The air crackled with tension as more guards arrived, sealing Minister Lin’s fate.

And somewhere amid the chaos, Lan Wangji could be looking for him.

So Wei Wuxian ran and didn’t turn back.

Chenxuan sighed, watching the space he left behind, something unreadable in his gaze.

—

Chenxuan found him later along the city walls, where the capital stretched below in golden light.

“You’re leaving,” Chenxuan observed, stepping up beside him.

Wei Wuxian didn’t look away from the horizon. “Never planned to stay.”

“A shame,” Chenxuan mused. “We made a good team.”

Wei Wuxian smirked. “You just liked the chase.”

Chenxuan huffed a laugh. “Maybe.” A pause. Then, quieter, “You’re an interesting man, Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t surprised. Not by Chenxuan finally calling him by his real name, nor by the way his fingers tapped idly against the hilt of his sword, like he was restraining himself. Like he was contemplating something.

Wei Wuxian ignored all of it and instead offered a weak smile as he bowed. “Take care, Your Highness.”

Chenxuan blinked. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his lips. “Took you long enough.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”

Chenxuan let out a hum of amusement, then, as if the idea had just occurred to him, said, “You know, you could always come with me to the palace and perhaps experience its luxuries. Good food, warm baths, soft beds…” He glanced at Wei Wuxian from the corner of his eye. “Royal, handsome company.”

Wei Wuxian scoffed before he could stop himself. “No, thanks.”

The refusal was too fast.

Chenxuan, ever perceptive, caught the slip instantly. His gaze sharpened, lips curving. “Ah,” he said. “Avoiding someone?”

“Yes, you.” Wei Wuxian laughed.

Chenxuan had played this game with him long enough to recognize a deflection when he saw one.

“Really...” the prince mused, watching him with renewed curiosity. “I can think of another, actually.”

Wei Wuxian ignored him.

Chenxuan, however, wasn’t quite done. He tilted his head, considering. “Could I at least interest you in a meal? As thanks, for your help.”

Wei Wuxian finally turned to him, eyes glinting. “Are you asking me out on a date, Your Highness?”

Chenxuan’s lips curled. “Maybe.”

Tempting. Almost.

But he needed to leave before someone else came searching.

So Wei Wuxian only hummed, stepping back as he bowed again for the last time. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

Chenxuan chuckled, voice rich with amusement. “You wound me.”

But Wei Wuxian was already gone.

Chapter Text

The morning after the banquet, the palace remained unsettled. Minister Lin’s arrest had sent ripples through the court, and whispers of the night’s events spread swiftly.

Lan Wangji had spent the night in quiet contemplation. The way everything had unfolded, and the way Wei Wuxian had appeared, handled the situation, and then disappeared just as quickly.

This time, however, Wei Wuxian was not alone.

Lan Wangji had seen them together during the chaos. Moving in perfect sync, as if they had fought side by side before. A fleeting observation, and one he barely had time to register before the situation had demanded his attention elsewhere.

But now, summoned by that same man—the one who had fought with Wei Wuxian, who had looked at him with familiarity, who turned out to be a prince—Lan Wangji found himself thinking about it again.

It was unlike him to dwell on such things.

And yet, when he entered the private council chamber and met the prince’s gaze, that strange feeling stirred again.

Seated behind an ornate desk, Chenxuan looked at ease, though his sharp eyes suggested otherwise. He set aside the document he had been reading and gestured to the seat opposite him.

“Hanguang-Jun.”

Lan Wangji bowed before taking his seat. “Your Highness.”

Chenxuan studied him, assessing. Then, with mild amusement, he said, “A wasted trip, then.”

Lan Wangji remained composed. “I am glad the women have been found safe.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed Chenxuan’s face. “Yes. That was handled well. Unexpectedly well. All thanks to my partner. He and I were a great team.”

The way he said partner—stretched out just so—made Lan Wangji pause.

He ignored it. What business was it of his? Wei Wuxian could associate with whomever he pleased. No matter how smart or handsome or—

Lan Wangji cut off the thought before it could fully form.

Chenxuan watched him, eyes keen despite his casual air. Then, tapping his fingers against the desk, he said, “He calls you his friend.”

There was no name mentioned. None was needed.

Lan Wangji’s fingers curled slightly over his sleeve. “He said that?”

Chenxuan’s lips curved, not quite a smirk, but something knowing. “He did.” A pause. Then, with deliberate ease, “Good thing he wasn’t referring to me. I’d rather he called me something else.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze flickered to him, unreadable.

Chenxuan did not elaborate, but the meaning was clear.

It settled strangely within Lan Wangji. Not anger, not quite unease. Just… something.

But his mind caught on the word friend.

Had they ever been friends?

In the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian had been distant, unreadable. He had avoided others, kept to himself, never quite standing still long enough for anyone to catch hold of him.

If anything, Wei Wuxian had avoided him most of all. He had fought him, tricked him, lied to him.

Left him.

And yet, in their last conversation before he disappeared, Wei Wuxian had been soft. Kind. He had given Lan Wangji gifts—not just the book that has proved to be very useful, but also those pretty white balls of fur that had somehow become a source of… warmth.

Maybe Wei Wuxian was right. Maybe they were friends.

Still, friends do not just leave each other, do they?

Lan Wangji had never understood him then. He understood him even less now.

Chenxuan, watching him, let out a low hum of amusement. “You seem surprised,” he said lightly. “Did he also do something nice for you, then leave before you could properly thank him?” He leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Do you know why he got involved?”

Ah, so he is gone again then, Lan Wangji thought.

He did not respond, but Chenxuan took that as invitation enough.

“A little boy asked for his help,” he said simply. “That was all it took. I meant to investigate alone, but Wei Wuxian was such a smart—” he drew out the word, deliberate, “—and handsome partner. I thoroughly enjoyed our time together.”

There was an edge to his tone. A certain deliberateness, as if meant to elicit a response.

Lan Wangji did not react. At least, not outwardly.

But inwardly, a quiet admiration swelled in his chest. Once again, Wei Wuxian had acted selflessly. No debt to settle, no ulterior motive, and no personal gain. All because a child had asked him to?

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Lan Wangji looked at Chenxuan, steady and unblinking. "Your Highness speaks as if this concerns me."

Chenxuan studied him for a moment longer, then sighed, feigning disappointment. “Doesn't it? I don’t know what’s between you two,” he mused, “but there is something.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him sharply.

Chenxuan smiled. “I have tried to win over Wei Wuxian for a while, and he has ignored me completely. Yet, just by seeing you, he was—” He paused, thoughtful. “Affected.”

Lan Wangji did not know what to say to that.

So he said nothing at all.

Instead, he stood, dipping his head. “Thank you for your time, Your Highness.”

Chenxuan waved a hand. “Mm. Let him go, Hanguang-Jun. Some things are not meant to be.”

Lan Wangji frowned slightly. Let him go? He was never his to begin with.

Chenxuan paused. Then, with the weight of something heavier beneath his words, he added, “And some things are already being claimed.”

Lan Wangji studied him, searching for intent, but the prince only looked back at him, gaze half-lidded and inscrutable. There was a quiet certainty in the way he said it, as though he was making a statement and not issuing a challenge.

A prince was not a man used to being denied.

Lan Wangji had never concerned himself with claims, but somehow, this prince irritated him with the way he spoke of Wei Wuxian.

He met Chenxuan’s gaze, steady, unshaken, and spoke before he could restrain himself.

“A man may claim the stars,” he said evenly, “but it does not mean they will shine for him.”

Chenxuan stilled.

Then, after a beat, he laughed, quietly at first, then warm and rich, as if truly entertained. “No wonder,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

Lan Wangji rose and bowed, every movement precise and composed. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

Chenxuan inclined his head in return, a smile still playing on his lips. “Hanguang-Jun.”

Lan Wangji turned and left without another word, his white robes trailing behind him.

Chenxuan watched him go, fingers idly tapping against the armrest of his chair.

And as he sat there, watching him leave, he thought to himself…

Wei Wuxian must be truly extraordinary to be drawing in men like this.

—

The night was quiet when Wei Wuxian slipped away. No grand farewell, no lingering glances, only a quiet apology left with Popo, who had always been kind enough to overlook his sudden departures, his restless nature, his tendency to leave before he could be made to stay.

He left behind his little home, his half-grown crops, the life he had tried to build with calloused hands and quiet days. He had a simple life there, a quiet one that had suited him well enough. It still did.

But the capital was stirring. And worse, people were beginning to notice him.

Prince Chenxuan was not a man to be underestimated. Neither was Lan Zhan. One knew how to take what he wanted; the other, how to hold on. If Wei Wuxian stayed any longer, one of them would eventually catch up to him.

And so, before either of them could come knocking, he did what he always did.

He left.

The capital, like the cultivation world, was no longer interesting for someone like him. It was nothing but a forest of ambition, filled with monsters wearing human faces.

And so, as everyone slumbered, Wei Wuxian became a shadow once more, vanishing into the night before the sun could catch him.

—

Wei Wuxian traveled as a man of means.

Gone was the image of a humble farmer. This time, he wove a different tale. His robes were fine but understated, the fabric rich yet practical for travel. A guqin case rested on his back, lending him the air of a cultured man, a scholar or musician of leisure.

He played the part well. At inns and teahouses, he paid generously, never enough to draw suspicion but just enough to mark him as someone of comfort, a man who had never known hardship. He spoke little of himself but charmed those he met with easy laughter, accepting drinks and trading songs when pressed.

If anyone was looking for a rogue cultivator, farmer, a merchant, or a man dressed in plain robes with sharp eyes and little to no smile—well, they wouldn’t find him. They’d see only a traveling musician, a gentleman with silver in his sleeves and not a care in the world.

One evening, in a bustling riverside town, he let himself indulge in the role fully. The inn was warm with chatter, the scent of spiced wine curling through the air.

Wei Wuxian had taken his time settling in, letting the weight of his new silk robes rest over him like a second skin. His guqin that he chose carefully, sat beside him. It was neither the finest, nor too extravagant, but enough to suit the persona he played. A wealthy wanderer. A traveling musician. Someone who had coins to spend and no need to linger.

The owner, an old woman with kind eyes, had asked no questions when he paid for a room in full. But when he had idly plucked a few notes from his guqin that afternoon, she had taken notice. And so, when the evening came, she nudged him toward the small raised platform where performers occasionally sat.

Well, why not?

Wei Wuxian settled on the cushion, hands trailing over the strings. He should have chosen a flute. That had always been his instrument, the one that fit into his hands like it had been made for him alone. The guqin, on the other hand, felt too rough on his fingers against its strings, the sound too weighted, and too heavy with memories.

But the role demanded it. And he had always been good at playing his part.

The teahouse murmured with idle conversation, but as his fingers moved, the first notes cut through the air like a ripple across still water.

A guqin was not meant to be played lightly. Its voice was deep, resonant, demanding attention even in its softness. Wei Wuxian let the first few chords settle before he began to speak.

"Once, there was a fisherman," he said, voice carrying easily. "Every day, he cast his net into the river, and every day, he pulled up the same catch. Always the small fish, just enough to feed himself, never more."

The room quieted, drawn in by the story as much as the music.

"But one day, his net caught something strange. Not a fish, not a stone, but a pearl that was bright as the moon, and warm to the touch. He had never seen anything like it. And he thought to himself, ‘Surely, this is fate. Surely, I was meant to have this.’”

His fingers moved, the guqin humming with something almost wistful.

"But the river did not agree," he continued. "That night, the water churned, the wind howled, and a voice whispered from the depths. ‘Return it.’”

A murmur rippled through the audience. Some leaned forward, enthralled. Others exchanged knowing glances, as if they had heard such stories before.

Wei Wuxian let the music build.

“The fisherman refused. He clutched the pearl tighter, certain that it was his. But the river does not take kindly to those who steal from it. And so, the next morning, when the village woke…"

He struck the final note, letting it hang in the air.

"...the fisherman was gone. The only thing left was the pearl, resting on the riverbank, waiting for the next pair of greedy hands to take it."

Silence followed. Then, a slow exhale, the kind that came when a story settled deep in the bones.

Wei Wuxian smiled, tilting his head. "Perhaps he should have let it go."

A chuckle, scattered applause, coins pressed onto the table. Someone muttered about omens, another about fate. The teahouse owner gave him an approving nod.

Wei Wuxian only bowed his head, collected his earnings, and returned to his wine.

Let them take what meaning they wanted from his story.

By morning, he would be gone.

The journey stretched long, winding through riverside towns and mist-laden hills. He moved southward, following no clear path, never lingering too long. By the time he reached Yuqiao, a couple of weeks had passed, and any trail he might have left behind was long since washed away.

Yuqiao was quiet, tucked along the coast where the cliffs met the sea. The air was thick with salt, the scent of fish and damp wood carrying on the breeze. Fishing boats swayed in the harbor, their sails pale ghosts against the early morning mist.

Wei Wuxian took it all in, lips curving slightly.

A fishing village that is simple, self-sufficient, and blissfully removed from the world’s concerns is exactly what he needed. A place where no one cared for courtly intrigue nor cultivation sects.

Yes. This would do.

—

The village elder studied him carefully, her weathered face unreadable beneath the shade of her straw hat. Behind her, the sea stretched out in endless blue, waves crashing lazily against the shore. Around them, a few villagers lingered, their gazes curious but not unfriendly.

"You’re new," the elder finally said, her voice carrying the slow cadence of someone who had seen many come and go.

Wei Wuxian inclined his head. "I am. You may call me Wei Wuxian."

She nodded and didn’t ask for more, but he knew better than to leave a void for others to fill. A lie was most convincing when it carried an ounce of truth.

He smiled, easy and open. "I was a traveling musician for some time. Spent my days wandering from one town to the next, playing for meals, sharing stories in exchange for a roof. But—" He gestured at the waves behind her, allowing his voice to soften with something that might pass for longing. "I grew tired of the road. Thought I might try my luck somewhere quieter."

One of the fishermen scoffed, adjusting the net slung over his shoulder. "Not much luck here unless you fancy hauling fish."

Wei Wuxian grinned. "I might."

The elder hummed, still watching him, weighing his words. "You don’t look like a fisherman."

"No, but I’m willing to learn." He spread his hands, the gesture loose, unguarded. "A man needs to eat, after all."

Silence stretched between them. He let it linger, unconcerned. He had played this game before. He knew when to push and when to let someone convince themselves of his story.

Eventually, the elder nodded, slow and deliberate. "We have little use for musicians here. But honest work earns honest pay. So long as you pull your weight, no one will turn you away."

"That’s all I ask," Wei Wuxian said lightly, though he knew it was more than enough.

The fishermen began to disperse, conversation shifting back to their daily tasks. The elder gave him one last searching look before turning to go, her approval unspoken but understood.

And just like that, Wei Wuxian became a man with a story, one that would spread through Yuqiao as naturally as the tide. A musician in search of a fresh start. A wanderer who had tired of the road.

So if someone ever came asking, this was the tale they would hear.

It was simple. It was harmless.

And, most importantly, it was not a lie anyone would question.

—

Lan Wangji had every intention of searching for him.

Not because he needed to nor because he wanted to.

This was duty. Nothing more.

Wei Wuxian had given the Cloud Recesses the gift of protection. It was only proper to express gratitude.

Yes. That was all.

Lan Wangji’s hands curled at his sides as he prepared for departure.

It had nothing to do with the lingering familiarity of the talismans, the meticulous care in their construction, the way they fit so seamlessly into Cloud Recesses as if they had always belonged there.

It had nothing to do with the way Wei Wuxian had vanished, leaving everyone behind.

And it certainly had nothing to do with the presence of a certain prince—the one man whose reach extended far beyond mere politics. A man who had the power to find those who did not want to be found.

Lan Wangji would simply locate Wei Wuxian first.

To thank him. And maybe ask how he had been.

He did say they were friends after all.

But before he could take even a single step forward, an urgent letter arrived with his brother's seal pressed firm into the parchment.

Lan Wangji tore it open, eyes scanning the message.

An order.

Return home immediately.

His fingers tightened around the letter.

The search would have to wait.

Chapter Text

“Where are my yin irons?”

Wen Ruohan’s voice had been so quiet it barely stirred the heavy air of the chamber. And yet, that stillness carried weight like a blade drawn just far enough to press against the skin.

It had been a year. A year since Wen Chao had come slinking back from Cloud Recesses, stammering about some cultivator who had dared to warn him to turn back. A nobody, he'd said. A fool who had stood against the might of the Qishan Wen and lived to tell the tale. At the time, it had been amusing. “He’s coming for you,” the fool had said.

And yet no one had come. No armies had risen. No retaliation had followed.

Wen Ruohan had laughed then.

But now, his amusement was running dry.

He stared at his sons with eyes like dying embers. “A year. A full year, and I still do not have the yin iron.” His voice remained soft, but his sons flinched as if struck.

“Wen Xu.”

His eldest son stepped forward, calm and steady. “The one in Yueyang was taken before we could reach it.”

A muscle ticked in Wen Ruohan’s jaw. “By whom?”

Wen Xu paused. “…Unknown.”

Wen Chao let out a frustrated breath, fists clenched at his sides. “It was him! The same thief! He is collecting yin irons!”

Wen Ruohan tapped a single finger against the armrest. The sound echoed faintly in the silence. “Then tell me,” he murmured, “why, after all this time, has he not come for mine?”

The lava pits below crackled. The torches flickered. Shadows danced across the dark stone floor, long and shifting.

Wen Chao’s breathing quickened. “He’s waiting,” he blurted. “Biding his time. Maybe he knows you’ve set traps. Maybe he’s preparing. Maybe—”

“Maybe,” Wen Ruohan cut him off sharply, “there was never a thief at all. Perhaps this was all a deception. A phantom conjured to make fools of us. And I, in my generosity, trusted your words. I waited. I laid traps. I allowed this… ‘thief’ time to act.”

The room fell into cold silence, broken only by the distant, dull roar of molten stone.

Wen Ruohan exhaled steadily. His nails tapped once against the lacquered wood. Then, silence.

“And still… nothing.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The brazier flames flared as if stirred by his irritation.

His gaze focused on Wen Chao like frost creeping over glass. “Remind me, again, why I haven’t burned the incompetence out of both of you yet?”

Wen Xu did not flinch, but his hands folded behind his back tightly. Wen Chao on the other hand stiffened, his panic rising again.

“He was real, I swear!” Wen Chao dropped on his knees. “H-he mocked me! He said if we showed our faces again, he’d kill us! And he’s the one who fought our water demons on the Biling Lake!”

A flicker of amusement crossed Wen Ruohan’s expression. “Ah, yes. The lake.”

Wen Chao paled but before he could sputter out another excuse, Wen Ruohan continued.

“There were rumors, were there not, about the cultivator who cleansed Biling Lake?”

Wen Chao swallowed hard. “Yes. The reports say he was a Lan, but no one knows who." His voice wavers. "I think it was him. The same one who stopped me at Cloud Recesses."

“A thief and a hero,” Wen Ruohan mused, voice distant and thoughtful. “Interesting.”

He let the idea hang in the air. Let it settle, unspoken and heavy.

The lava below pulsed, glowing brighter for a moment. An unspoken warning.

Slowly, Wen Ruohan rose.

The very chamber seemed to draw inward, as if the walls themselves bowed to his presence. Power rolled off him in waves.

His lips curved, not in a smile, but in something darker, crueler.

“Let us see if this phantom truly exists.”

His robes swept across the stone floor as he turned, voice echoing through the hall like a verdict already passed.

Wen Xu and Wen Chao exchanged a glance, uncertain.

“I will visit the Lans myself,” Wen Ruohan declared.

Wen Chao blinked, stunned. His father never crossed into enemy territory. “You—you’re going in person?”

Wen Xu shot his brother a silencing look, then addressed their father. “I’ll prepare the army.”

Wen Ruohan didn’t so much as glance at either of them.

“If this thief is their protector… then he will come.”

And if not—

Then Wen Ruohan would remind the cultivation world what it meant to stand in his way.

—

Lan Qiren had long known the day would come when Qishan Wen darkened their doorstep.

But not like this.

Not with the thunder of war drums or blazing banners, but with Wen Ruohan himself walking through the gates of Cloud Recesses, calm and composed. He moved with the self-assurance of a man who had never been denied anything in his life. A man who believed the world bent at his command.

Lan Xichen greeted him at the steps, serene but alert, every word wrapped in precise courtesy. Behind him stood Lan elders in silent formation, and further back, outer disciples stood still with watchful eyes.

“Qishan Wen seldom honors other sects with his presence,” Lan Xichen said, voice smooth as still water. “This is an unexpected occasion.”

Wen Ruohan laughed, low and amused. “Call it curiosity. A year ago, something precious to me vanished near these mountains. I came to see whether it still lingers here.”

His gaze swept the surrounding halls, lingering on the walls and outer barriers. His eyes narrowed. There was something different within Cloud Recesses. The wards had been changed and restructured in ways he did not recognize.

This cannot be the work of the Lans.

“The yin iron,” he said casually, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Tell me, where is it?”

Lan Xichen didn’t flinch at the question. “Cloud Recesses has never held the Yin Iron.”

“Lies.” Wen Ruohan’s smile curled into something cruel. “Aren’t you all paragons of virtue? Isn’t lying forbidden in your precious rules? Or do those rules bend when it’s convenient?” His gaze swept the place like a blade. “My son, Wen Chao, told me someone came and took it. That means it was here.”

His words were sharp and calculated, meant not for answers, but for reactions. But the Lans were stone. Not a breath betrayed them.

Lan Qiren stepped forward, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. “Then your son was misinformed,” he said, voice steady despite the oppressive weight pressing into the room. “We do not have the yin iron here.”

The response was met with silence, then shattered by four slow, deliberate words.

“Do. Not. Test. My. Patience.”

They struck like thunder. Wen Ruohan’s spiritual pressure surged, blanketing the air in something thick and hot, like smoke before a blaze. A lesser sect might have collapsed beneath it, but the Lans stood firm, unmoved. As always, they embodied the mountain: still, silent, unyielding.

And yet, from the row of senior disciples standing behind their elders, the stillness wasn’t quite perfect. One clenched his fists too tightly, sleeves twitching as he fought to maintain composure. Another swallowed hard, his eyes flicking briefly toward Lan Qiren before locking forward once more. None dared move, but the strain of it showed in the smallest cracks.

Wen Ruohan’s gaze swept them all before narrowing on Lan Xichen.

“So it was here,” he said slowly, his voice now laced with contempt. “And now it is not. Which is it, Second Jade of Lan? Did you lose it? Did you give it away?”

He took a single step forward, and the stone beneath his feet seemed to whisper from the heat that followed. His voice dipped into something colder, crueler.

“Or was it stolen, right from under your noses?”

Silence again.

He moved closer still, until he stood directly in front of Lan Xichen. The courtyard seemed to tighten around the breath that no one dared release.

“Or perhaps,” he said, tilting his head just slightly, “you knew who took it. Perhaps you helped them. A deal struck in secret. One of your own, maybe?”

Lan Xichen did not flinch, but a faint shift in his posture betrayed the tension winding through him. His shoulders, usually held in perfect composure, drew subtly inward. Beneath his wide sleeves, his fingers tightened, then slowly eased.

He was grateful Lan Wangji was not here to witness this.

That silence, the disciplined refusal to break, was to Wen Ruohan as damning as any confession.

He smiled. Slow. Sharp. Gleaming.

“How very noble of you,” he murmured. “Guardians of righteousness. Protectors of thieves. Lan An must be proud.”

Still, no one spoke. No one rose to the insult. The Lans' discipline is really something.

And then, just as suddenly, his anger withdrew like a tide. He turned his back on them, looking out across the courtyard and toward the mist-draped peaks beyond. “You know something. I can feel it in your silence.” He let the pause stretch. “Very well.”

He looked over his shoulder one last time.

“I will find the one who took it. And when I do, I will remember that the great Cloud Recesses said nothing.”

He left without another word, robes sweeping behind him like smoke.

He had not gotten what he came for. But he had learned enough.

Someone had tampered with their barriers.
Someone had taken the yin iron.
And someone had the gall to think they could hide it from him.

Wen Ruohan hated many things. But above all, he hated not knowing.

If the Lans wanted to guard their precious mountains, let them. He would see how well their defenses held against his army.

—

One month later, Wen cultivators, led by Wen Chao, returned with fire.

Under cover of darkness, red-robed figures crept through the pine forests encircling Gusu, their movements sharp and hushed. The plan was simple: burn the outer ridges, stir chaos, then retreat before the Lans could mount a formal response. No war. Not yet. Just pressure. Just provocation. His father didn’t want a battle for now. He only wanted to see if the thief would come running.

He remembered his father's words. Wait. Observe. The Lans are no longer as soft as they once were.

Wen Xu had warned him too. Offered to study the new Lan defences. Offered to lead the attack properly, with strategy and precision.

But Wen Chao had been impatient. This was his chance to prove himself—to prove he didn’t always need Wen Xu, that he could earn his father's praise without hiding in his brother’s shadow. He wanted victory. Recognition. Redemption.

And so, against their counsel, he came here.

He would burn the Cloud Recesses. He would drag the ghost into the open.

Or so he thought.

The first torch was lit.

The flame sparked, flared once, and vanished. The dry brush refused to catch. Smoke rose weakly, curling in the cold air before dissolving into nothing.

Wen Chao frowned. “Again.”

A second torch was struck. Flint against oil-soaked cloth. The fire sputtered and died like a candle smothered by wind.

A third cultivator stepped forward with fire talismans, flinging them into the trees. The seals glowed red, pulsed once, then crumbled to ash without so much as warming the ground.

Confusion rippled through the ranks. Murmurs. Swearing. Another soldier tried, then another. Talisman after talisman died the same quiet death.

Wen Chao's jaw clenched. “What are you doing?” he barked. “Use more. Hit harder.”

Then the barriers stirred.

A soft pulse of blue light rolled down the slope like a tide. Cold. Silent. Unshakable. Lan talismans shimmered to life across the hills, etched into stones, trees, even the soil beneath their feet. Dozens of them. Hundreds. They glowed like constellations, woven into a formation that was beautiful in its precision and merciless in its intent.

These were not the traditional wards of Cloud Recesses.

They were new. Brutal. Purposeful. Not just to protect but to repel. To smother flame. To reject any spiritual force that entered with ill will.

The Wens tried again. And again. Fire talismans. Spiritual blasts. Blades drawn and thrown.

But nothing breached their barrier.

Wen Chao stepped back from the glowing edge of the barrier, his breath catching. Sweat beaded at his temples despite the night chill. He could feel it now. How still the forest had become. How everything watched.

He turned sharply toward his men, voice rising into shrill frustration. “Why isn’t it working? They weren’t supposed to resist this.”

A flicker of unease coiled in his gut.

Then came the sound. A single, low vibration through the ground beneath them. Deep and resonant, like a warning.

The blue light flared again, brighter now, and the outer wards began to hum.

“Fall back,” Wen Chao shouted. Panic cracked through his voice.

The cultivators didn’t hesitate. They scattered into the dark forest.

Behind them, the wards held. Bright and unbroken.

Cloud Recesses did not burn.

—

When the news reached Wen Ruohan, he did not take it well.

“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, fingers pressing against the arms of his throne, “that an army of elite Wen cultivators were bested by… what? Air?”

He had expected resistance, yes—but not this. Not wards so refined they could smother flame itself.

Wen Chao shifted where he stood, sweat already beading at his brow. “The barriers have been reinforced, Father. It wasn’t ordinary Lan magic—”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Wen Ruohan cut in, his voice suddenly sharp. “The Lans are scholars, not fighters. They do not weave spells meant to repel fire, nor do they alter their traditions so easily.”

Which meant someone else had done it. Someone powerful. Subtle.

Someone who did not belong to Gusu. Someone who had taken the yin iron and now, it seemed, had dared to meddle with the Lans' sacred grounds. Why?

It was no coincidence.

Wen Chao opened his mouth again, as if to explain, but his father was no longer looking at him. Wen Ruohan’s gaze drifted toward the dancing flames of the brazier, as his expression shifted and settled on something darker.

Perhaps he had misjudged the situation.

He had dismissed the first reports as exaggeration. As nothing but tales of cowardice from frightened soldiers about a phantom in white, stealing under their noses and vanishing into mist after purifying the cursed waters of Biling Lake.

But now?

Now this same ghost had strengthened Cloud Recesses with barrier work that rivaled, surpassed even, anything the great sects had achieved in decades.

And somehow… no one knew their name.

A chill unfurled in his chest, quiet and cold.

Who was this person?

Who had stolen the yin iron and remained unseen?

Who had been protecting the Lans?

He didn’t finish the thought, but in his mind, the shape of something dangerous was beginning to form. A ghost with mastery of spells. A rogue unbound by sect rules. A thief cloaked in mystery. Perhaps even… a hero.

And heroes were far more dangerous than enemies.

Then Wen Xu stepped forward, ever so pleased with himself. “Why waste time speculating,” he said, “when we can ask this one directly?”

The great doors creaked open.

Two soldiers marched in, dragging between them a figure clad in white. His robes were torn, his body bloodied but despite it all, he stood tall, mighty and regal. A silken white ribbon, dirtied but still intact, clung to his brow. His face, though bruised, remained composed, and his golden eyes burned with unshaken defiance.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes raked over the guest they had delivered. For a moment, he turned to Wen Xu, and a glint of approval passed through his expression. “Not entirely useless after all,” he said, almost pleased.

Then his smile returned—slow, cold, and merciless as he stepped down from his throne. As if something precious had just been laid at his feet.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “Let’s see what secrets you Lans are hiding.”

Chapter Text

The sea was still tonight.

Wei Wuxian sat at the edge of a narrow rock ledge admiring the Yuqian sea that seemed to stretch endlessly beneath the moonlight. His fishing line hung loose in the water, untouched for over an hour, but he didn’t mind.

He had learned to enjoy the waiting.

It had only been a few days since he arrived. The villagers didn’t speak to him much, and he returned the courtesy. Quiet suited him. Here, he was a regular young man with bad fishing skills and no past. A passing stranger who bought food, offered no stories, and watched the world from afar.

He shifted slightly on the rock, squinting at the line, wondering for the hundredth time if he was using the wrong kind of bait.
And then the talisman ignited.

It wasn’t fire exactly, but a pressure, like being struck in the chest by a spirit’s scream. The heat bloomed under his robes, scorching across his skin where the alert charm was hidden behind the fabric. It pulsed once. Twice.

Then it began to burn.

Wei Wuxian staggered to his feet, fishing rod clattering to the stone.

His mind went blank, then surged with one name.

Lan Zhan

Without hesitation, he summoned Suibian, already muttering the incantation for a flying talisman with trembling fingers. The air howled around him as he launched into the sky, clothes still damp from the sea spray, hair whipping loose in the wind.

His heart beat like war drums and his body screamed in protest. He pushed harder.

Not again.

Wei Wuxian arrived at the mountaintop like a blade unsheathed.
But no sooner had his boots touched stone than he froze.

The Cloud Recesses stood.

The towers were intact. The white pines bowed gently in the breeze. No flames. No corpses. No blood on the stone paths.
Instead, he saw the aftermath of an assault gone terribly wrong…for the enemy.

Wei Wuxian watched with narrowed eyes as Wen Chao’s troops fled in chaos. Some stumbled, others crawled, dragging collapsed cultivators whose spiritual cores had been shredded by the backlash of protective wards. A few lay twitching on the ground, struck unconscious by suppression talismans. At the center of it all, the protective wards still shimmered strong, sharp-edged, and humming with power.

His work.

They had held.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the sound of distant shouting as Wen Chao’s voice cracked in fury somewhere down from where he's at.

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes.

Typical.

Arrogant. Spoiled. Stupid.

In his past life, Wen Xu had burned this place to the ground. Had led the siege with smug cruelty, proud of the fire he rained on sacred soil. Had hurt his Lan Zhan.

But today?

Today his brother had walked into Wei Wuxian’s wards and been thrown back like garbage.

It was almost enough to make him laugh.

Almost.

Because as Wen Chao’s furious curses echoed, something clicked into place.

Why now? Why attack Cloud Recesses now, after months of silence?

He had thought removing the yin iron from the Lans would be enough. That it would make them an unappealing target.

Then it hit him.

He only had two.

The one he’d taken from Cloud Recesses, or rather, was given to him by Lan Yi. And the other one, he once asked nicely from the flower maiden in Yueyang.

But the third…it still pulsed in Wen Ruohan’s grasp.

The fourth? Rumored to be with Xue Yang but was never confirmed.

And the fifth…

His gaze darkened.

The sword. Trapped in Xuanwu's cave. A cursed blade once wielded by a nameless cultivator who had bound it with yin iron, sealing it inside the beast’s den. Untouched for decades.

All this time, Wei Wuxian had hoped taking two would be enough. That removing the core pieces would weaken the rest and dull the shards into useless relics.

He thought that by stripping them of what Wen Ruohan wanted, he’d bought them safety.

But the attack today proved otherwise.

Wen Ruohan was still trying to claw his way back to power. And as long as any shard remained in his hands, he could find ways to bring chaos to the world.

“I was supposed to finish this,” Wei Wuxian murmured, eyes closing briefly. “I should have finished this.”

–

Safe. They were safe.

Wei Wuxian repeated the words silently as he sat on the bamboo floor of his small house in Yuqian, back resting against the wall, robes still dusted with dirt from the road.

He hadn’t returned right away. Instead, he’d lingered near Cloud Recesses for another day, keeping watch from the shadows, just in case the attack hadn’t been the end of it.

But nothing stirred. No flames. No screams.

So now, finally home, he let himself believe it.

Safe.

This was what he came back for. Not revenge. Not glory. Just… this. A quiet house. A quiet place. And the knowledge that somewhere out there, Lan Zhan and A-yuan were alive and untouched by war.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. His fingers tightened around the little pouch hidden under his collar, the one pressed directly over his heart. Inside it, two sealed shards of yin iron pulsed faintly, wrapped in layers of talismans and spiritual thread.

Dormant. Contained.

But not harmless.

Not ever.

He exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it settle on his chest. They were safe for now. But safety bought by delay was only ever temporary.

By the next morning, Wei Wuxian was already up and moving. He filled a wooden tub with cold well water and bathed quickly behind the house, rinsing off sea salt and road dust.

He dressed in a clean set of dark robes with soft grey trim, neat and comfortable. The kind worn by someone who lived simply, but not poorly. His long, black hair hung loose for a moment before he tied it up in a high knot.

He didn’t wear the red ribbon in his hair anymore, but he kept it wrapped around his wrist, mostly hidden under his sleeve.

By the bed, he opened the small trunk and quietly took stock of his belongings: a spare robe and travel cloak, a handful of talismans, and sealing tools. His flute rested neatly at the bottom. He picked it up for a moment, fingers brushing over the familiar wood, then set it down again.

Everything was in place.

When he stepped outside with his bag slung over one shoulder, the old man across the path looked up from his broom. Their eyes met. He gave Wei Wuxian a long, quiet look but said nothing.

No one in Yuqian asked where he was going. That was how it always was here, and Wei Wuxian preferred it that way.
Still, just before he left the edge of the village, he paused and looked back at the quiet little house, the sea beyond it shimmering in the early light.

“I’ll come back,” he said under his breath.

He headed west, moving through low grass and weathered paths until the earth changed under his feet. Sharp stone. Cold wind. The air turned thinner as he climbed.

Xuanwu’s cave wasn’t far in terms of distance, but it might as well have been a lifetime away.

–

It was dusk when Wei Wuxian reached the cliffs overlooking the lake. The air had turned colder and heavier. The water shimmered silver and black, undisturbed. No trace remained of the bloodshed that once tainted its depths.

Wei Wuxian stood at the threshold, unmoving.

Last time he was here, everything had gone wrong.

Wen Chao’s laughter. Lan Zhan’s blood soaking the ground. That cursed beast roaring from the dark. The sting of failure. And… the song.

Lan Zhan had sung to him.

His voice, careful and quiet, breaking through the haze of fever and pain. Notes he'd only heard once, but never forgot. Their song.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes.

So much had changed.

But this—this was still unfinished.

Wei Wuxian stood in silence for a long moment, heart aching. He knelt by the shore, whispering something too soft for even the wind to hear, and lit a lantern. It floated out into the lake, soft golden light skimming the surface.

A prayer, perhaps. A promise.

Then he got to work.

He moved swiftly, talismans in hand, drawing a new array on the rocks above the cave entrance. Stronger this time. Anchored to his qi, and keyed to burn bright in his chest the moment someone dared trespass.

The blade down there—the strongest piece of yin iron—it was sleeping for now. But that wouldn’t last forever. Someone would find it.

But not before he did.

He pressed the last talisman into place and stepped back. The cave pulsed once and then sealed. The barrier shimmered, then vanished into stillness, hidden but strong.

Wei Wuxian stood alone at the mouth of Xuanwu Cave. The wind rustled the trees softly, birds chattered somewhere overhead. The sun filtered through the canopy in golden streaks.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

As he turned to leave, something in the air shifted.

"...Wei Ying."

The voice was faint, barely a breath and soft enough to be the wind catching on stone. But it was enough.

Wei Wuxian froze.

For a heartbeat, he let himself believe it. Let the illusion bloom in his mind. Lan Zhan, standing just behind him, quiet and steady, just the way he always was. The way he always came for him.

But of course, when he turned, there was nothing. Just the empty mouth of the cave and the soft rustling of talismans in the breeze.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes.

He knew it wasn’t real. Lan Zhan wasn’t here. No one was. But still, he let his eyes fall shut, let the imagined voice settle around him like warmth.

“Mn,” he whispered, almost smiling. “I’m here, my love. You are safe.”

The silence that followed was vast. But it wasn’t empty. Not to him. At that moment, he could almost believe they were still connected. That somewhere, Lan Zhan could hear him.

He stood for a moment longer, eyes closed, and listening; just in case the silence would offer him another miracle.

But it didn’t.

And so he left, sealing the cave behind him—never realizing that, at that very moment, near the Gusu border, bloodied and barely conscious, Lan Wangji was being dragged away by Wen soldiers, and had whispered his name aloud.

“…Wei Ying.”

–

By the time Wei Wuxian reached Dafan, night had fully settled. Lanterns glowed along the narrow main street, casting long amber streaks over the rain-damp cobblestones. The small inn near the square buzzed with quiet tension. It wasn’t packed, but neither was it empty.

He paid for a modest corner room, ordered a pot of wine, and kept mostly to himself in the dining hall.

It didn’t take much effort to eavesdrop.

The merchants and travelers were already talking—some angry, others uneasy, most careful not to speak too loud.

“…two days, can you believe that? Wen Chao didn’t go back to Qishan for two whole days.”

“Was hiding, you mean. Coward didn’t know how to face his father after the Gusu mess.”

“Wen Ruohan must be furious. People say they’re gearing up for something worse.”

Wei Wuxian sipped from his cup. So the retreat had taken longer than expected. The defeat wasn’t part of their plan.

The civilians here were nervous and unsure if this moment of quiet would last. They’d seen what happened to the last town that angered the Wens.

He leaned back in his seat, tapping his thumb lightly against the ceramic.

The plan was simple. Infiltrate Nightless City, find Wen Ruohan’s yin iron, and take it. No distractions. No fights unless necessary.

He hadn’t even bothered with a disguise. The fewer complications, the better.

Just sneak in. Take it. Disappear.

Simple.

Or so he thought.

A soft gasp pulled him from his thoughts.

He looked up to find a woman staring at him, wide-eyed.

“You,” she said.

Wei Wuxian blinked. “...You.”

Wen Feng approached slowly, surprise flickering across her face. “Still nursing a broken heart, I see.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, then smiled as he stood and extended his hand. “Wei Wuxian. Sorry I was a mess last time. I’m better now… I think.”

She raised a brow, but shook his hand anyway. “So you do have a name.”

“Only one I’ve been using lately.” He gestured to the stool across from him. “Sit. Unless I’ve traumatized you enough already.”

She gave a soft laugh and lowered herself into the seat. “Not quite. Though I didn’t expect to find you here. Dafan’s not exactly a heartbreak haven.”

He lifted his cup. “I go where the wind takes me.”

“That so?”

“Such is the life of a traveling musician,” he said easily. “I was hoping to play tonight, but I snapped a string this morning.” He glanced around the room. “Probably for the best. This room looks a little… tense.”

Wen Feng gave a knowing look. “Indeed. Everyone’s been on edge since that failed assault up north. Wen Chao’s tail between his legs, cultivators talking big again. It’s a mess.”

Wei Wuxian hummed without interest, swirling his wine. “The worries of the world are none of mine. I just want my music, a good wine, a quiet night, and maybe a dry place to sleep.”

“Ah,” Wen Feng said with a smile, “a true romantic.”

He tilted his head, mock-serious. “I prefer coward with standards.”

That earned another laugh from her. The kind that felt honest.

He watched her for a beat.

Bright eyes and gentle lines, she looked so much like his A-Yuan. Or rather, A-Yuan must have looked like her.

The resemblance was stronger than he remembered. Wen Feng had that same light in her eyes, that same tilt to her smile. And then it hit him: the last time they met, she had been pregnant.

He cleared his throat and glanced away briefly, before asking shyly, “Last time we spoke, I think you were expecting…”

Wen Feng blinked, then her expression softened. “I was.”

Wei Wuxian smiled faintly, eyes flicking back up. “And?”

“And he’s perfect,” she said with quiet pride. “Popo’s watching him back home. I’m only here for an errand.”

“…Congratulations,” he said. “Truly.”

A warmth crept into his chest. A-Yuan was safe. Born. Loved. And he intended to keep it that way.

“Thanks,” she said, before leaning back and letting the mood settle again.

The tavern door creaked open behind them.

Wen Feng turned toward it, then gave a small wave. “Finally. There he is.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t look at first. Just another cousin, he assumed, maybe a husband. Some village man coming to escort her home.

But something shifted in the air.

A presence. A familiarity that jolted him in his bones.

He turned.

A young man stood at the door, pale and soft-eyed, looking slightly overwhelmed by the crowd. He didn’t say anything and just scanned the room with quiet patience, then moved toward them.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled around his cup, eyes narrowing faintly in disbelief.

“…Wen Ning,” he said under his breath, the name hitting him like a dropped stone.

He hadn’t thought of the boy in months. Not properly.

Not since the ambush. Since the story changed.

In his other life, they’d been close. Brothers, even. He remembered Wen Ning living peacefully outside Gusu, tending his little home on land Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan had gifted him.

He wondered if he still lived there now. If he’d survived long enough to enjoy it. If he even—

“Are you okay?” Wen Feng asked gently.

Wei Wuxian blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d gone quiet.

“Fine,” he said.

Wen Feng gave him a curious look but didn’t press. “This is my cousin, Wen Ning.”

Wen Ning offered a small bow, polite and quiet.

Wei Wuxian nodded back, heart still rattling faintly against his ribs. “Nice to meet you. I'm Wei Wuxian.”

Their eyes met briefly.

And something in Wei Wuxian ached.

“Jie,” Wen Ning murmured, clutching a small cloth pouch in both hands. “I got the herbs. The apothecary was crowded… Sorry I’m late.”

Wen Feng turned back to her cousin. “We should go. My little one’s probably wailing by now.”

“And the streets aren’t safe tonight,” Wen Ning added, almost in a whisper. “There were soldiers on the west path… they didn’t look sober.”

Wei Wuxian, who was silent until now, glanced between the cousins and their worried expressions. He looked down at his cup, then stood and slipped a few coins onto the table.

“I’ll walk you home.”

Wen Feng blinked. “You?” She gave him a look, equal parts amused and skeptical. “What are you going to do, sing them to sleep?”

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “If I must. You don't know the power of my tune, Wen-guniang.”

She smiled. “It’s really not necessary.”

“Please,” he insisted. “Think of it as repayment. You were kind enough to listen to me blubber about lost love over a bottle. And I don’t like owing people.”

“I barely remember what you said.”

“Even worse. Now I owe you double.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Also,” he added, counting on his fingers, “three of us look less like easy targets than two. And, don't I look dangerous?”

Wen Ning blinked. “You’re… not?”

Wei Wuxian grinned at him. “Terrifying, when I want to be.”

Wen Feng snorted and finally relented. “Fine. But if something happens to you—”

“I’ll die a martyr,” he said solemnly. “And blame you from the afterlife.”

“Charming,” she muttered.

“I try.”

–

The Wen household was small and a little worn, but warm in a way Wei Wuxian hadn’t felt in a long time.

As they stepped inside, the scent of ginger and pork broth greeted them first, followed by the faint sound of someone humming from the kitchen. Popo glanced up from where she was setting dishes on the table and immediately squinted at him.

“Who’s this?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“A friend,” Wen Feng said lightly, unfastening her outer robe. “He helped us home. Streets weren’t safe.”

Popo gave Wei Wuxian a once-over and snorted. “Skinny thing. Eat.”

Before Wei Wuxian could respond, a soft cry came from the back room.

“I’ll get him,” Wen Feng said, disappearing for a moment. Wei Wuxian was already seated when Wen Feng returned with the small bundle in her arms swaddled in red cloth.

Wei Wuxian stood instinctively, gaze fixed.

The child yawned, lips parting in a tiny ‘o’. A tuft of dark hair peeked out from beneath the cloth.

“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian breathed before he could stop himself.

Wen Feng paused mid-step. “What did you say?”

He blinked, then gave a quiet smile. “My son. He looked like him. His name was A-Yuan.”

She stared at him, caught off guard. “Your son?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, eyes still on the baby. “In every way that mattered.”

Wen Feng said nothing for a moment. Then her expression softened. “Huh. Funny coincidence.”

He nodded, gaze lingering on the tiny fingers curled against the blanket. “Yeah. Funny.”

“Well, this one’s loud and spoiled and thinks he owns the place,” she replied with fond exasperation as she eased back into her seat. “But I guess we’re all a little taken with him.”

He laughed, but his chest felt hollow. As Wen Feng adjusted the baby on her lap, A-Yuan let out a soft, gurgling coo.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but step closer, crouching beside her.

“May I?” he asked, voice lower than he meant it to be.

Wen Feng blinked in surprise, but nodded.

Carefully, reverently, he brushed a fingertip over the baby’s tiny hand. Warmth. Soft breath. A real, living boy.

A-Yuan squinted up at him, hiccupped, and promptly sneezed. Popo, carrying a tray of bowls, chuckled from the doorway. “Good luck, young man. You’ve been chosen.”

Wei Wuxian startled at her words, but Popo only set the tray down with a clatter and waved him away when he moved to help.

“Sit, sit,” she said. “Guests don’t work. You already look half-starved.”

Uncle Four was already pouring wine. Wen Ning lingered at the corner, shoulders hunched, eyes flickering now and then toward Wei Wuxian like a curious animal not quite ready to trust.

As food was passed around—warm rice, pickled roots, grilled fish, steamed buns—the warmth of the house settled over him. He stole glances at the familiar faces.

Strange, he thought, tearing a bun in half. It had been two lifetimes since he last had dinner with the Wens. Since they had all been alive.

There was laughter at the table, the clink of bowls, Popo scolding Wen Ning for reaching too early, Uncle Four pouring another drink. A baby’s soft gurgle filled the pauses.

It felt warm. Familiar. Almost like nothing had changed.

So he ate in silence, letting himself believe it. That he was just a guest, not a ghost among the living. That none of it had been lost.

Then the door slammed open, wind rushing in and cutting through the room.

Everyone turned.

Wen Qing stepped inside, her hair tousled, her face unreadable.

“Jiejie?” Wen Ning stood, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought…”

Everyone made space as Wen Qing entered. Her eyes swept the room and landed on Wei Wuxian. She paused, but said nothing.

Popo offered a cup. Wen Qing declined.

“I thought you were at Nightless City,” Wen Feng continued, rocking A-Yuan gently in her arms.

“I was. Just got back.”

Popo frowned. “So soon? Didn’t you say Wen Ruohan needed you?”

Wen Qing’s eyes flicked briefly to Wei Wuxian. “He’s resting better tonight. Said I could return.”

“Resting better?” Uncle Four grumbled. “He should be seething.”

Wen Qing sat down slowly, exchanging a glance with her brother. “He would be. But...”

“But?” Uncle Four prompted.

She hesitated, flicking another glance at Wei Wuxian.

Wen Feng waved it off. “He’s fine. He’s a friend.”

“Wen Xu brought him something.”

The room went still.

Popo narrowed her eyes. “What kind of something?”

Wen Qing hesitated. Her gaze shifted once more to Wei Wuxian, who didn’t look away.

“A gift,” she said simply. “Enough to keep him calm. For now.”

Wen Qing said nothing more, and no one asked. The tension faded, replaced by the soft clatter of bowls and the warm rhythm of an ordinary evening. A-Yuan let out a soft sigh and nuzzled closer to his mother’s shoulder.

Wei Wuxian looked around the table. It had been so long since a night like this. Peaceful. Familiar. Almost safe.

Cloud Recesses was standing. Lan Zhan is safe, tucked behind cold walls and rules, far from the chaos. And if Wei Wuxian moved quickly, if he found the yin iron first, maybe none of it would reach this house, this peace, this baby and everyone else he cared about.

He took another bite of rice, letting the warmth fill his chest.

Maybe peace wasn't so far after all.

Chapter Text

“Face. Arms. Legs.”

The words cut through the dark before Wen Xu himself appeared, bootsteps dragging the silence with him. Somewhere in the shadows, a rat skittered, claws scratching against the floor.

Wen Xu stepped into the dim light, armored and unhurried, one gauntleted hand resting on his sword. His gaze lingered on Lan Wangji as though weighing which piece to break first.

“Or…” He tilted his head, letting the word hang. “Core.”

The silence closed in, heavy as chains.

"Which one, Lan Wangji?" He asked. "Which one do you think your brother would like best?"

Lan Wangji said nothing. Had not said anything since he was taken hours ago. Or has it been a day already? He did not know who took the yin iron. Did not know who cleared Biling Lake. And if he did, he would not say. They could hurt him all they wanted, but they would never know his name.

Wen Xu’s metal boots rang against the stone, cutting into the silence. “How stubborn,” he said flatly. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

His eyes moved over Lan Wangji with slow precision. “The face is for the world to see. The arms, for fighting. The legs, for running.” And then his gaze fixed on the center of Lan Wangji’s body. “The core though… the core is who you are.”

He took another step and continued. "So… will you give us a name? Or shall we find out piece by piece?"

From the shadows came a soft, almost casual chuckle. Wen Chao stepped forward, spinning a slim dagger between his fingers. Compared to his brother’s heavy armor, he looked light, effortless, but the malice in his eyes was sharp as the blade he toyed with.

"Ah, brother," he drawled, "you make this sound so serious. No wonder he won’t talk. Scaring him won’t get us far." He crouched, dagger tip tracing the stone between them. "Me? I like to keep things… simple."

He tapped the blade near Lan Wangji’s cheek without touching. "The face would be such a shame, wouldn’t it? So many think you’re untouchable. Imagine their shock if something… happened."

The dagger lifted, tracing the air near Lan Wangji’s cheek without quite touching him. "But the legs…" He tapped the blade against his own knee, grin turning feral. "One quick slice and you’ll never outrun anyone again. Ever."

He glanced at Wen Xu, as if seeking approval. "What do you think, brother? Should we let him keep his pretty face… or let him keep walking?"

Lan Wangji kept his gaze fixed ahead, unblinking, as if sheer will alone could turn the cell into empty space and the Wen brothers into ghosts.

Wen Xu’s presence was weight itself, a looming wall of iron and inevitability. Every word he spoke was measured and deliberate like a blade already descending, slowed only to savor its fall.

Wen Chao, in contrast, was motion and noise. The flick of his dagger. A laugh too loud and too sharp bouncing off the walls. His cruelty was liquid fire and unpredictable, capable of turning amusement into agony in an instant.

Between them, the air was suffocating. It carried the damp of stone and the faint reek of old blood. Somewhere overhead, water dripped, each drop falling like a ticking clock, louder with every second.

He kept his breathing even; the only sign of strain was the tightening of his fingers against the ropes. The bonds bit into his wrists, numbing his hands, but he did not flinch when Wen Chao’s dagger passed close enough for its cold kiss to ghost across his cheek.

The question — face, arm, legs, or core — still hung in the air. It was not meant to be answered. It was a game, one he would not play.

So he said nothing.

And the silence became their invitation.

The scrape of metal rang sharp in the stillness. Wen Chao shifted the dagger from hand to hand, then pressed its flat edge lightly against Lan Wangji’s jaw. It wasn't enough to cut, but enough for the cold to seep from skin to bone.

"Mm. Steady," Wen Chao murmured, almost approving. Then, with a sudden flick, the blade trailed down to Lan Wangji’s collarbone, pressing harder, angling as if deciding where to dig in.

Wen Xu moved closer, his shadow falling over both of them. He didn’t speak at first; the sound of his armor plates shifting was enough. When he did, his voice was a low grind. "Pick something, Lan Wangji. Or I’ll pick for you."

The dagger pressed in just enough to raise a thin bead of heat at his skin.

Lan Wangji kept his eyes forward, unfazed.

Wen Chao’s smirk twitched. "Brave. But you know what happens when you give someone else the choice?" His wrist snapped forward. The tip slashed down, stopping barely a hair’s breadth from Lan Wangji’s shoulder. The cut in the fabric was clean. The skin beneath… untouched.

For now.

"Next time," Wen Chao said, "it won’t stop there."

Wen Xu’s hand gripped his sword, the tip scraping lightly against the cold floor before settling against Lan Wangji’s ankle. "Let's start with the legs," he muttered, barely noticing the sudden chill at the back of his neck, as if the shadows themselves had shifted.

Behind him, Wen Chao sauntered in, still holding the slim dagger from before, though now a thin length of wire looped at one end dangled from his fingers. It caught the torchlight like a spider’s thread, deceptively delicate yet full of menace.

"Look at this, brother," Wen Chao said, letting the wire sway just in front of Lan Wangji’s face. "Thin as a hair, but pull it quick and…" He snapped it sharply. The sound cracked against the stone wall, drowning out the faint, sudden chill that slipped through the room.

Lan Wangji’s eyes followed the wire, muscles coiled in readiness as he felt the faint chill that brushed them. He blinked, confused, but the moment passed as quickly as it came.

Wen Xu did not smile. "Legs," he said simply, as if the decision had already been made.

Wen Chao’s grin widened. "Oh, I don’t know. I am still tempted by the face."

They flanked him, one on each side. The sword’s tip hovered just above his ankle, cold and deliberate. The wire trembled near his cheek, a ghost of motion that promised sudden pain.

Lan Wangji remained still, every nerve aware of the distance between steel and skin. Each heartbeat echoed in the oppressive silence. Every drip of water above sounded like a warning. Fear pressed at the edges of his mind but he held still, forcing control over the panic that clawed at him.

"If you hurt me," he said at last, "you will gain nothing. They will come for you."

He did not know if it was true. No one even knew he was here. His time in the capital had been meant to end quickly, once the case was settled. But when the emperor, still distrustful after finding one of his own officials complicit, ordered him to remain and escort the princess on her duties, Lan Wangji obeyed. And so what should have been days stretched into a month.

When Lan Xichen’s urgent summons finally reached him, he left at once, driving himself past exhaustion in his haste to return home. His brother would not have sent that message if it wasn't important. But near Gusu’s borders, he crossed paths with Wen Xu’s men. Outnumbered, he was taken.

Now, in this cell, he stood bound and unflinching. His wrists burned, his body ached, but his face betrayed nothing. Inside, doubt coiled. Still, his words had been steady, and that was enough. For now.

He shifted against the ropes, a small movement that carried the weight of defiance. His chin lifted, gaze cold, unbending.

Wen Chao leaned in closer, grinning, testing the tension, savoring the defiance.

Wen Xu’s mouth curved in a slow, contemptuous smile but didn't bother to answer, letting the silence stretch, and daring Lan Wangji to believe his own words.

"So…” Wen Chao drawled at last, the grin cutting across his face. “Where are they? Hmm?” He leaned in, wire glinting as it continued to dance near Lan Wangji’s cheek. “Tell me, where is the thief?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes held, unblinking. His stillness was its own answer.

And then, from the shadows, another voice. Calm. Almost amused.

"Yeah, Lan Wangji. Where are they?"

The words cut through the cell like a blade.

Both brothers froze.

In the far corner, someone sat half-shrouded in shadow. A dark hood, a mask, one knee drawn up with an arm slung over it, as if this were a show he’d been enjoying.

Wen Xu jerked in surprise, his sword rising instinctively. With a sharp flick, Wen Chao let the wire fall and drew a blade from his belt, pressing it hard against Lan Wangji’s throat, his grin faltering as unease crept into his eyes.

From the shadows, the hooded figure didn’t move. He only watched. Too quiet and too still like someone waiting for them to make a move. The kind of move that, if wrong, would carry a price none of them wished to pay.

Lan Wangji felt the weight of it but not the fear. It pressed against the room like a storm about to break, suffocating the Wen brothers, yet it slid past him untouched. He didn’t know who this was. He only knew he could not die here. Not like this.

"Stay back," Wen Chao stammered, his voice climbing too high, too fast. "One step and— and he’s dead!"

The hooded man’s head tilted slightly. "Then he dies. But why waste such a good canvas? You’ve barely started."

"If you’re going to do it," he continued, "you could take the legs and maybe the arms. The core, too, if you like. Keep the face, though—" He tilted his head, as if studying Lan Wangji. "—I like pretty things."

Wen Chao straightened sharply. "Who—how did you—" He broke off, his eyes flicking to the barred door. It hadn’t opened. No one had come in. No one should have heard. Yet the stranger echoed words they’d spoken only moments ago.

Wen Xu’s grip on the sword tightened. "You’re the thief!"

The hooded figure gave a soft, amused chuckle. "Thief? I haven't taken anything… yet." The last word was a low hum, drawn out just enough to make the brothers shift uneasily.

His gaze slid lazily to Lan Wangji. "Go ahead," he said, voice almost inviting. “Cut him nicely."

"You’ll watch him bleed?" Wen Xu asked, unsettled.

The hooded man tilted his head, shadows masking his expression. His voice carried no urgency, no warmth. "Only if you make it fun."

Wen Xu scoffed. “If you’re here to save him—”

“—you’d be dead already,” the man cut in.

The words lingered like a blade against their throats. Wen Chao’s sneer wavered, and Wen Xu’s grip on his weapon faltered. Their father’s prison was locked with every barrier, every snare designed for anyone who is not a Wen. And yet here this hooded figure stood untouched.

The realization sank in heavily. If he had walked through all their father’s traps as though they were nothing, then he wasn't an ordinary cultivator. He could kill them, here and now, if he chose.

Wen Xu stepped forward, sword ready. He had taken only one step before the hooded man’s fingers twitched. A lazy flick of the wrist.

The sword clattered to the floor, knocked clean from Wen Xu’s grip by an unseen force.

The hooded man didn’t move from the wall. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," he warned, and just like that, both brothers felt the press of something heavy in the air.

“Or what?” Wen Chao rasped, though the sweat on his brow betrayed him. The blade trembled against Lan Wangji’s skin.

Lan Wangji’s gaze stayed on the stranger. He did not recognize the voice, but there was no fear.

The hooded man’s gaze slid to the blade, then to Wen Chao’s face. "Oh, you'll see."

Wen Chao froze.

Wen Xu took a step toward him, fists clenched now that his weapon was gone. "You think you’re untouchable? You won't leave here alive."

The hooded man finally moved just enough to straighten from the wall. The air pressed heavier, each breath harder to draw.

"And who's going to stop me, you?" His eyebrows raised slightly.

A faint creak sounded above, though no one had touched the ceiling. The torches flickered. Shadows stretched unnaturally long.

Wen Chao’s dagger wavered against Lan Wangji’s throat. His hand had gone slick with sweat.

"Go on," the hooded man said, deceptively soft. "Make him scream."

Wen Chao sneered and pressed the dagger to Lan Wangji’s cheekbone. "You’ll regret this," he hissed.

The man didn’t move. "No, you’ll regret this if you keep stalling."

Wen Xu’s knuckles whitened at his sides, hand twitching for a blade that was no longer there. Something was wrong. The air was too still, the stranger’s tone too unshaken. It was like playing a game where the rules were written by someone else.

The dagger in Wen Chao’s grip trembled.

"Well?" the hooded man asked, eyebrows raised.

Wen Chao’s blade moved at Lan Wangji’s skin, the tip steady enough that a breath could have tipped it deeper. One slip, and it would cut.

The hooded man didn’t move or say anything. His hands stayed loose at his sides, but the silence around him grew even heavier. His eyes narrowed as it lingered on the faint line of red at Lan Wangji’s jaw.

"Fine," Wen Chao said, forcing a smirk. "But when he’s screaming, don’t pretend you didn’t—"

The sound of sudden movement cut him off.

The hooded figure was no longer lounging in the corner. One heartbeat he’d been ten paces away, the next he was standing between them and Lan Wangji, mask inches from Wen Chao’s face.

"Your hands are shaking," the man observed quietly. "That’s why you talk so much. To hide it."

Wen Chao stumbled back, but the hooded man’s hand shot out and caught the blade between two fingers, twisting it free as though plucking a leaf from a branch. He let it fall, clattering, beside Wen Xu's sword.

"Now you’ve got nothing sharp," the man said, straightening. His dark presence filled the room. "Except your tongues. Shall I cut those?"

Wen Xu’s breathing quickened. "How d—"

“Shh.” The hooded man’s voice was soft, absolute, and the single syllable stilled Wen Xu mid-word.

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed. This was a familiar imprint of their magic. Their own spell.

The hooded man’s gaze flicked toward Wen Chao. “He’s still not screaming. Fix that… or shall I?”

But when the brothers didn’t move, frozen in the sickening realization that they were being played, the hooded man’s shoulders loosened in mock disappointment.

“Pathetic,” he murmured.

Then he moved—not at them, but toward Lan Wangji. The Wens stiffened, bracing for a blow.

Instead, the man bent low, close enough that Lan Wangji could feel the weight of his presence. His voice was a private whisper. "This will be messy… Would you like to watch?”

Lan Wangji met the shadowed gaze behind the mask, confusion flickering across his eyes before they softened. He shook his head ever so slightly.

The whisper lingered, almost a caress against the cold silence. “Close your eyes.”

And as Lan Wangji obeyed, the ropes binding his wrists slackened and fell away, cut clean by unseen hands.

Lan Wangji’s arms dropped, stiff from restraint. The hooded man caught his wrist before he could fall, steadying him without a word. For the briefest moment, his grip lingered and then guided him back against the wall. His touch was careful, as if the wall itself might hurt him.

Up close, Lan Wangji’s bruises stood out harsh against his pale skin, blood dried in dark lines. The sight carved a sharp line of fury through him. His anger coiled sharper, directed wholly at the ones who had dared to touch him.

Across the cell, Wen Xu swallowed hard. Wen Chao’s gaze darted between them, restless and wide. The sight unsettled them. It felt like they had witnessed something private, something not meant for their eyes.

The hooded man straightened. When he turned back to the Wen brothers, the softness was gone. His eyes were red.

And then he was on them.

Wen Xu’s hand twitched toward his belt before it was caught and crushed in an iron grip. Bones popped like twigs underfoot. His howl was swallowed by a palm slamming over his mouth, shoving him back into the wall so hard dust rained from the ceiling.

The hooded man didn’t even look at him. His other hand snapped up, catching Wen Chao by the throat, steering him sideways with the casual ease of rearranging furniture. Wen Chao clawed at the grip, breath rattling in short, panicked gasps.

"Too easy," the stranger murmured, almost bored.

Wen Xu staggered up, wild with fury and pain, and lunged. But the man’s elbow slammed into his ribs without looking, folding him in half. A flick of the wrist, and Wen Xu’s legs swept out from under him. He hit the ground, coughing blood.

The hooded figure stepped back, giving them space. Not mercy. Space to think they still had a chance. Space to watch the realization curdle in their guts.

“You should be grateful,” he said coldly. “I’m letting you stand.”

Wen Chao stumbled upright, trembling, eyes darting between his brother’s bloodied form and the unmoving mask. His voice cracked. “You—why are you doing this?”

The man tilted his head as if weighing the worth of an answer. At last, he spoke.

“I warned you, remember?” He let the word linger, sharp and deliberate, letting Wen Chao feel the weight of his arrogance.

Wen Chao’s mouth opened and shut at the realization that this thief was real. Not a phantom, not a ghost story as his father once thought. Panic hollowed his chest. He dropped to his knees, begging. “Forgive us, spare us—we’ll leave, we’ll never set foot in Gusu again, please—”

A low laugh snapped across his pleas, humorless and sharp. “Is that so? You know, I could almost forgive you for crawling back after that mountain. Your soldiers were useless anyway.”

His head turned, sudden and fierce, toward Lan Wangji, bruised and battered. His voice broke out of its mockery, hard with fury. “But you laid hands where you shouldn’t. For that…” His silence lingered, heavier than any threat. “…you deserve worse.”

Wen Chao’s feet left the ground in an instant, his body slammed to the far wall by an unseen force. His scream strangled in his throat as invisible pressure closed around his chest.

Wen Chao crawled, trembling, hands raised trying to kneel. "Please! I’ll do anything!”

A flick of his fingers sent Wen Chao flying into the far wall as his response.

Wen Xu lunged again with a roar but never reached the man as an invisible force seized him mid-stride and hurled him against the wall with a crack like snapping timber. His ribs caved under the crushing weight, bones splintering through flesh. Blood frothed from his mouth as his body sagged, twitching once before it went slack.

Wen Chao’s scream ripped through the cell. He stumbled back, hands flailing, words spilling out in a sobbing plea. The hooded man’s fingers barely shifted. The force caught Wen Chao by the throat, dragging him off his feet, crushing the air from his lungs. He thrashed, heels drumming the floor, eyes bulging as he tried to scream. A sharp twist snapped his neck sideways with a sickening crack. His body crumpled to the ground in a heap, spasming once before lying still.

The silence after the brothers’ collapse was thick, broken only by the drip of blood on stone. The hooded man stood unmoving in the center of it, chest rising and falling, until the air of resentment faded from the walls.

Then he turned.

Lan Wangji’s face was a mess of cuts and dried blood, his breathing shallow but steady. Carefully, the hooded man retrieved Bichen, holding him out and lowering him into Lan Wangji’s hands. Lan Wangji’s fingers wrapped around the hilt, a strange comfort grounding him amid the chaos.

The man’s hand lingered near Lan Wangji’s cheek, then stilled. At the last second, his fingers curled back. His gaze drifted higher, catching the head ribbon knocked askew, strands of hair falling loose. Instinct guided his hand. He wanted to fix it, to smooth it back into place as he’d done countless times before. But Lan Wangji shifted ever so slightly, drawing his head back. That subtle recoil broke the spell. The hooded man froze, a flash of raw pain flickering across his expression before he forced it away. He let his hand fall, the distance between them suddenly stark.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured instead, softer than anything that had come before.

Lan Wangji blinked, disoriented, but the tone pulled at something familiar in his memory. The cool detachment, the way warmth hid beneath restraint—he had heard this before.

His voice rasped, low and hoarse. “Who are you?”

The hooded man’s head tilted, shadows hiding the shape of his mouth. “Aren’t you tired of asking me that?”

Lan Wangji’s throat worked as if to speak, but no sound came. He held the gaze behind the mask, suspicion tightening in his chest.

The man moved quickly then. “Can you walk?”

Lan Wangji nodded, though his body screamed otherwise. The hooded man took his weight without hesitation, guiding him with steady hands, leading him through the dim corridors toward freedom.

They moved quickly through the shadowed path, the hooded figure clearing the path, striking down guards with merciless efficiency. Lan Wangji followed silently, watching every movement. Each time the other reached back to steady him when he stumbled, each time his body turned instinctively to shield him.

At last, moonlight spilled through an open arch ahead. Their exit. Relief pressed against Lan Wangji’s ribs like a sudden breath.

But before they could reach it, torches flared, soldiers poured in from both sides, steel ringing against stone. And at the center of it all, Wen Ruohan stepped forward.

His robes blazed crimson, his aura boiling like an open furnace. Fury sharpened his every word as his voice rolled through the hall.

“Leaving so soon? After butchering my sons?”

The air crackled with murderous heat as Wen Ruohan’s arms shot out, seizing both Lan Wangji and the man by their throats, lifting them effortlessly off the ground.

He studied them for a heartbeat, eyes cold and calculating, weighing his next move. Then, with sudden force, he flung Lan Wangji to the side. The impact sent him against the stone gasping for breath. In that instant, Wen Ruohan’s guards surged, encircling Lan Wangji, sealing every escape.

“Well, well… look who finally appeared,” Wen Ruohan’s voice sliced through the air, eyes locked on the hooded man as his grip tightened around his throat. “You thought you were so clever—breaking in, killing my sons under my roof. Did you truly believe you could steal from me and walk away unscathed? A thief and a murderer… even your Gods won’t save you.”

Chapter Text

Few hours earlier

Wei Wuxian had almost stayed.

Another round of wine, another idle chatter, maybe even a room warmer than his rented inn. That evening had been easy, almost pleasant.

But Wen Qing’s casual little comment during dinner refused to leave his mind.

So he smiled, thanked them, and gave the same excuse about the streets being unsafe, which is true, for others, but not for him. Then he stepped out into the night.

Back in his room on the city’s edge, the oil lamp threw a thin light over cheap wood and thinner bedding. He set a few bottles down on the table with a careless clatter, shrugged off his outer robe, and let it fall onto the mattress. The quilt sagged in the vague shape of a man who had collapsed on the bed without care.

He leaned against the wall, fingers drumming soundlessly against his knee. A gift. That was what Wen Qing had said. Enough to calm Wen Ruohan.

Calm… after losing to Cloud Recesses? Impossible. The Gusu Lan were defensive by nature, not aggressors, yet they had driven Wen Chao's forces back. That kind of humiliation should have set him burning half the cultivation world, not sitting quietly in his palace.

What could Wen Ruohan possibly hold that would soothe his pride after such defeat? His yin iron? No it can't be. He still had the pieces he took, sealed with his own hand and bound with strong protection. The sword? Hidden, and Wen Ruohan doesn't even know about the existence of the fifth piece. Which left only one thing: leverage.

A person.

His mind ticked through names. Clan leaders. Heirs. Someone whose capture could buy time, if not obedience.

And then he thought of Cloud Recesses, how he had lingered there a full day to make sure no second attack came. He had seen Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, and some elders. But not Lan Zhan. Not once.

At the time, it had seemed… odd. Lan Zhan was not the type to stay behind. Perhaps he had been sent elsewhere. Perhaps.

Wei Wuxian tipped his head back, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, though no amusement touched his eyes. “Some gift,” he murmured.

He moved, tied his fresh robes neat, and slipped talismans from his sleeve casually. Nightless City was dangerous, but he knew its bones better than most who served there. The Jiangs had inherited the spoils after Wen Ruohan’s fall in another life. The maps, scrolls and hidden layouts—he had read them all, once, out of sheer boredom. That boredom might now serve as a weapon.

The lamp sputtered out with a flick of his fingers and darkness closed over the room. The window shimmered faintly, as if someone still slept inside.

Wei Wuxian pushed the shutter open. The courtyard was empty except for some crickets and very distant dog barks. He vaulted the wall and landed soundless on the dirt road.

Slipping into Nightless City was child’s play. The Wen guards strutted about, drunk on their own power, blind to the shadow that slid past them like smoke.

He had come for the yin iron—that much was decided. The plan had been to wait a few more days, to study, to move when the time was right. But the mention of this “gift” gnawed at him, a prickle at the back of his neck that he couldn't ignore ever since it was mentioned.

Alright, alright. I'm here. Let's see what gift they hide, Wei Wuxian thought as he melted into the shadows.

As expected, Wen Ruohan had thickened his web. Twice, Wei Wuxian nearly brushed a trap, a talisman veiled beneath ash, a formation line etched so thin into stone it caught only the corner of his eye. His fingers flicked counter-charms with idle precision, and he moved on.

The main hall waited at the heart of the fortress. On the dais sat an obsidian chest, carved to impress, pulsing faintly with the breath of yin iron.

Wei Wuxian paused, smile hidden beneath his mask. Too neat. Too easy. Wen Ruohan was many things but careless was not one of them. He didn’t move closer. Instead, he let his eyes wander, letting the faint hum of something unusual guide him deeper into the hall.

That was when voices drifted from the corridor outside, careless and loud.

“Can you believe our luck? One of the cultivators, right here under our noses.”

“They say Xiandu himself ordered he be kept alive.”

A bark of laughter. “Alive, sure! Let’s see how long Wen Xu and Wen Chao will let him.”

Wei Wuxian stilled. So it is someone.

The smile slid away, leaving his face in shadow. As he stepped toward the sound, torchlight caught on steel leaning against the wall. Elegant. Familiar. Blood dried black along its edge.

Bichen.

Without thinking, he quickly grabbed the discarded sword, wiped it clean, and slid it into his qiankun pouch. As if summoned, something black uncoiled his veins and spilled outward, tendrils of dark energy curling into the air around him. The calm he had worn since his return shattered. As his fingers slipped the mask over his face, his eyes flared red.

The guards noticed too late. A figure emerged into their light, silent, eyes stripped of warmth. Their laughter died in their throats.

“Where,” Wei Wuxian asked coldly, “is he?”

“W-who… who do you mean?” one guard stammered.

“Lan Zhan.”

One guard’s jaw worked soundlessly. Another bolted, torch flaring as he spun to run down the corridor. He did not make it two steps before darkness dragged him back, an arm hooked around his neck, a snap echoing in the silence. The body crumpled to the floor.

The others tried to raise their swords, voices cracking with the start of a shout, but their throats were already closing. Wei Wuxian moved among them like smoke, hands precise and merciless. One by one they fell, choked, broken, and discarded.

Only a single man remained, shaking while pressed against the wall. “B-below,” he stammered. “The dungeon. They are keeping him there.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers tightened. A sharp twist. And then silence.

He tilted his head, a humorless smile pulling at his mouth as the last body hit the floor.

Not a moment later, Wei Wuxian reached the dungeon, only to find Wen Zhuliu blocking the door.

Wei Wuxian did not falter. His hand closed around the man’s throat as the searing heat of Wen Zhuliu's qi flared against his abdomen.

Wei Wuxian’s voice cut through it, low and cold. “Oh no you don’t. Not anymore.”

Dark energy surged, swallowing the glow in Wen Zhuliu’s palms as if snuffing out a candle. Fingers tightened, slow and merciless. A crack split the stillness. Wen Zhuliu’s corpse fell with a dull thud.

Wei Wuxian stepped over it without a glance.

Then the dungeon door swallowed him whole.

—

“...A thief and a murderer… even your Gods won’t save you.”

“What God's?” Wei Wuxian smirked, unfazed by Wen Ruohan's threat.

In a heartbeat, his body shifted, and then he was gone from Wen Ruohan’s grasp. Shadows split and twisted where he had been. A blink-step, precise and unstoppable—an impossible motion to those bound by ordinary cultivation.

The guards around Lan Wangji barely had time to register his presence. With a flick of his wrist, dark energy snapped like a whip, sending them sprawling to the floor as wards and weapons clattered uselessly.

Wei Wuxian snatched Lan Wangji up, pressing the teleportation talisman to the air. Light flared, space folding inward while slowing time for everyone else. “Hold on!”

Lan Wangji nodded.

But Wen Ruohan was faster. Recovering with terrifying speed, his dagger shot from his sleeve, slicing through the air with a whistle that cut through the chaos.

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as he made an attempt to intercept the dagger, but Wei Wuxian was faster. He sensed the motion before he saw it. Instinctively, he twisted his body into the blade’s path, shadows enveloping them both in the first pulse of their escape.

The world snapped.

The last thing Wei Wuxian knew was the bite of steel sinking into his side, the shocked cry he refused to give voice to, and the look in Lan Wangji’s eyes as they vanished together into the void.

They hit the ground hard, the world stitching itself back together. Wei Wuxian staggered, one hand pressed tight to his side where the blade had sunk deep. He didn’t cry out, but the sharpness of his breath betrayed him. The dagger, still wet with his blood, landed nearby with a thud. Without a word, he snatched it up, wiped it clean against his sleeve, and tucked it away.

Lan Wangji rose at once, steady despite the disorientation. His eyes swept the masked figure — the one who had torn him from Nightless City’s jaws — and narrowed on the spreading stain of red.

“Sit,” Lan Wangji ordered. His voice was calm but firm.

Wei Wuxian waved him off, already turning as if ready to disappear again. “Not your concern.”

A hand caught his arm. Not rough, but unyielding.

Lan Wangji’s gaze was steady, unblinking. “You saved me. Let me help you.”

Wei Wuxian froze. Always, he wanted to say but the words wouldn't form.

Lan Wangji’s hand pressed against his side. It wasn't clumsy nor harsh, but firm enough to keep the bleeding at bay. Wei Wuxian knew resisting was of no use. Not now, not when his strength was already failing. He let out a slow breath, murmured a spell, and a thin barrier shimmered into being around them, veiling their presence from any Wen patrols.

“Not here,” he said quietly. His chin lifted toward the trees. “There. A hut.”

Lan Wangji did not argue. He shifted his hold, steadying him with quiet certainty, and together they moved until the shape of a hut emerged. Abandoned but intact. Shelter enough.

Inside, the space was meager with only a narrow bed barely enough for one man, shoved into the corner. Lan Wangji guided him onto it, then drew a chair close.

Once, in another life, that bed would not have been a problem. Wei Wuxian had long been used to sleeping on Lan Zhan’s chest, ear pressed to the steady beat of his heart. That sound had been his anchor, the warmth beneath him, his shield against the nightmares.

But that time was gone. The bed was too narrow, and their distance too wide.

Lan Wangji did not waste time. Once Wei Wuxian was seated on the bed, he knelt beside him, movements careful and unhurried. From within his sleeve, he produced a clean strip of cloth, already folding it with practiced precision.

Wei Wuxian’s lips twitched, an attempt at lightness that never quite reached his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be patching yourself first? You don’t look much better.” His voice was thin, almost casual, but the way it caught at the edges betrayed the effort.

Lan Wangji did not pause, did not answer. His silence was steady as always. When Wei Wuxian shifted as if to rise, a firm hand pressed him back down.

“Be still.”

Like a punch to his gut, Wei Wuxian felt himself thrown back into the past. He closed his eyes, letting the memory take him.

“Be still.”

“It’s nothing,” Wei Wuxian joked, grinning through the sting. “Don’t look so grim, Lan Zhan. I’ve had wounds worse than this. Really, it’s just a scratch, and scratches heal faster when you stop fussing. If you keep pressing like that, I’ll—”

He faltered.

The careful pressure on his arm was gone. Lan Zhan’s hands had stilled.

The silence that followed was heavy and wrong. Where there should have been quiet scolding and patient insistence, there was nothing.

Wei Wuxian looked up and his heart lurched. Lan Zhan’s golden gaze met his, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“I cannot lose you,” Lan Zhan whispered, voice breaking.

The smile dropped from Wei Wuxian’s lips. Softly, he said, “you won’t.”

Ignoring the sharp pull of pain, he pushed himself up, drawing Lan Zhan close, and tilting his head so that Lan Zhan’s cheek was pressed to his chest. Lan Zhan’s hands twitched, instinctively reaching to steady him, but Wei Wuxian whispered, “Sshhh…” He squeezed Lan Zhan a little tighter, then added, “In a moment. I just want you to feel me first.”

Lan Zhan’s hands followed, wrapping around him and holding him tight. Wei Wuxian felt the warmth of his palms, the subtle press of his body, and whispered, “Hear that? I'm alive, aren't I?”

His heart continued to thunder beneath Lan Zhan’s ear, rapid and uneven, each beat vibrating against the side of his face. He murmured, “You won’t lose me. I promise.”

Lan Zhan’s grip tightened, anchoring him, breath shuddering against his hair. “Wei Ying…”

Wei Wuxian shifted slightly, tilting Lan Zhan’s head up just enough, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his forehead, and then to his lips. “I love you, Lan Zhan. I love you and I will never leave you.”

The words trembled in his mind, echoing from a lifetime ago. For a heartbeat, he almost felt Lan Zhan’s arms tighten around him again, steady as a vow.

But when his eyes opened, the touch was different. Lan Zhan's hand pressed lightly over the bandage, measured and warm. His gaze, calm and steady, curious even, held the faintest echo of the man who once shuddered against his hair, yet carried none of the intimacy.

I love you, Lan Zhan. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

His chest tightened at that burst of memory, as if the past itself had reached out to crush him. That heart had once raced for him, faltered for him, steadied for him. Now it beat the same, only without his name.

Without realizing it, Wei Wuxian’s hand had drifted to his own chest, pressing hard as if to hold himself together.

Lan Wangji’s hand caught his wrist, firm but careful. “You are making it worse by moving.”

Wei Wuxian startled, then forced a laugh—too quick, too thin. The words slipped out before he could catch them.

“Tsk. You’re bossier than I remember.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze flicked up. “When?”

“Aaaah?” Wei Wuxian faltered. His throat tightened beneath the mask.

“When did I boss you around?”

Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue, recovering quickly from his careless remark. “When? Hah, when aren’t you? The whole Lan clan is like that. Rules, lectures, straight faces—you’re all born bossy.”

Lan Wangji did not argue and seemed to have let it go. His hands moved with quiet determination, binding the wound with a gentleness that belied his strength. His silence said more than words ever could.

Wei Wuxian watched in silence. The urge to deflect, to turn this into something light and careless, flickered and died beneath Lan Wangji’s hands. They were deliberate and careful, cautious in a way that spoke more of unfamiliarity than skill, each movement measured as if he were still learning how to be gentle.

And yet… despite the slight stiffness, Wei Wuxian felt it all the same. The same quiet comfort, the same steadying presence, the same small peace that had always anchored him in moments of fear. It was not exactly the same as before, but it was enough.

The sting of the dagger’s cut lingered, but under Lan Wangji’s touch it was dulled, as if his care itself muted the pain. He worked without sound, binding the wound with a gentleness that did not match the firm line of his mouth.

Wei Wuxian lowered his gaze. He knew he should have pushed him away, known better than to let himself want this comfort, this reminder of a time he could never return to. But exhaustion had once again made the choice for him. His eyelids grew heavy. He fought the pull for a moment, but comfort had always been his greatest weakness, and Lan Wangji’s touch… it was the one he craved most. His body leaned into the stillness, his breath evening as Lan Wangji tied the last knot.

This doesn’t change anything, he thought as the steady rhythm of Lan Zhan’s presence carried him into sleep.

Lan Wangji’s hands lingered, first over the bandage and then at Wei Wuxian’s temple, brushing a stray lock from his brow carefully. When he finally drew back, his movements were deliberate, almost reluctant, as though unwilling to break the fragile stillness that had settled between them.

It unsettled him. A moment ago, with nothing more than a flick of his fingers, this man had cut down enemies like they were nothing. And now… now he looked unbearably human. Too vulnerable, as if the smallest push might shatter him, as if one careless word could make him weep.

Lan Wangji’s gaze remained, steady and unreadable to anyone else yet heavy with everything he could not say. Questions he could not ask. Suspicions he could not confirm.

Who are you really?

The mask gleamed faintly in the fractured light, an unyielding barrier between them. The urge rose sharp and sudden—to lift it, to uncover what lay beneath, to see if the face matched the voice and the presence that had unsettled him so deeply, that stirred echoes he had never been able to silence.

But Lan Wangji’s hand fell away. To touch what was hidden without leave would be a trespass. If this man wished to remain unknown, Lan Wangji could do no less than honor it.

Still, the questions circled like restless birds: How had he known so quickly of his capture? How had he wielded such grace with a flick of his fingers? And why, when Lan Wangji should have looked away, did he find himself unable to, drawn closer instead.

A memory flickered, brief and unclear. Darkness had come too quickly before, leaving only emptiness. The same sense hovered here, even in slumber: that if Lan Wangji looked away for too long, this man would vanish too.

He breathed in slowly, containing it all within the stillness he had cultivated since childhood. Beside him, the masked man slept deeply, the faintest crease between his brows softening at last.

Lan Wangji shifted, adjusting the broken shutter until the sunlight no longer fell across the bed. Then he settled onto the floorboards, folding into meditation. Yet even as his breathing steadied, his awareness never strayed far from the quiet presence at his side.

I know you, was Lan Wangji's last thought before he too succumbed to exhaustion.

—

Wei Wuxian stirred awake to silence. Not that it surprised him, but for a fleeting moment he had expected to feel Lan Zhan beside him, like he used to. Not that Lan Zhan would make a sound—he is a Lan, after all, but his presence had always been unmistakable.

His fingers rose almost automatically to the mask, brushing its surface. Still in place. He allowed himself a small, private relief.

A quick scan of the hut confirmed it was empty. For a brief, absurd instant, a small pang of disappointment struck him. Lan Zhan has left.

It's better this way, he thought. He blinked, flexed his fingers, and let the tension in his body ease. This moment alone is perfect. Time to vanish before anyone, Wens especially, could follow.

He rose, talisman already between his fingers, heart steady despite the ache in his side. One step, then another, and he paused, listening. The forest outside was quiet. Too quiet.

“Good evening,” came a voice from the doorway.

Wei Wuxian froze mid-step. Lan Zhan stood there, impeccable as always, his golden eyes calm and piercing.

“You’re leaving,” he said. Not a question.

Wei Wuxian forced a smile beneath the mask. “Sharp as ever. Don’t take it personally. I’m not very good at goodbyes.”

Lan Wangji didn’t move. His silence pressed down heavier than chains.

Finally, he said quietly, “I know you.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth curved beneath the mask. “Sure you do. We’ve met before, haven't we?” He leaned in just slightly, voice lowering into something playful. “But you don’t really know me, do you?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed, searching. This conversation felt familiar, he thought.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head, feigning casual curiosity. “What’s my name, then?”

The silence stretched. Lan Wangji’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

Wei Wuxian chuckled, a soft, breathless sound that barely masked the pain in his ribs. “See? You can’t say. You can suspect all you like, but without proof…” He tapped the mask lightly with one finger. “This wins the game.”

Still, Lan Wangji didn’t look away. His silence was heavy, as though he could see straight through the mask. Finally, he said, “Even without a name… I know you.”

Wei Wuxian’s heart skipped. That clarity, that certainty—it both thrilled and cautioned him. He could feel the pull, the quiet gravity of this man standing before him. One reckless thought flared: to reveal everything, to let Lan Zhan see. But the weight of reason and survival grounded him. He could not. He must not.

Lan Wangji’s lips parted, but no sound came. His jaw set instead, the silence stretching taut.

Wei Wuxian’s voice lowered, serious now, the words heavier than he meant them to be. “Perhaps. But it doesn’t matter.”

Lan Wangji’s brow furrowed. “What does matter?”

Wei Wuxian’s gaze locked on him, serious now, stripped of pretense. “You. Your safety. Your life. That’s what matters.”

Lan Wangji’s breath caught, unspoken emotion threading through his unyielding composure. He wanted to argue, to demand answers, or say thank you even but the words lodged in his throat.

Wei Wuxian slipped a talisman between his fingers, forcing a crooked smile. “And what matters right now… is that I go before those Wen guards find us. So step aside, Lan Wangji.”

Lan Wangji didn’t move. He only said, “If you leave… I will find you.”

Wei Wuxian’s chest squeezed painfully, but he lifted his chin, tone playful again though his hand trembled. “Mn. You’re welcome to try.”

And with a flash of light, he was gone

—

Back in Nightless City, the guards knelt, frozen, from where their prisoner had vanished, taken by a thief none of them had seen before. The murders, the lightning-fast escape—it had all happened so fast, leaving only stunned silence in its wake. Even before Wen Ruohan’s gaze fell on them, each man felt its weight. They knew the fury to come, and that few, if any, would survive it.

“Useless,” Wen Ruohan hissed. “All of you. Useless.”

A murmur rose, hesitant, almost daring. “Should we—perhaps we can—pursue them?”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes snapped to the speaker, sharp and unreadable. For a moment, the hall seemed to freeze under him. Then, with a calm that was colder than any blade, he said, “Bring me my sons.”

The words were simple, precise, but carried a fury that burned beneath the surface.

The guards moved, returning shortly with the bodies of Wen Xu and Wen Chao. The sight barely registered with him. With a flick of his sleeve, the bodies ignited. Flames licked upward, consuming the remains while leaving the hall otherwise untouched. The guards flinched. This fire was punishment, not mourning. Wen Ruohan did not kneel. He did not weep. The blaze was for order, for discipline, for the unforgivable stupidity of his sons’ defeat.

“Which among you breathed Lan Wangji’s name beyond these walls?” Wen Ruohan spoke again, his voice cutting through the hall and freezing every heart.

Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Only the crackle of the flames, licking at the floor, dared to speak. The guards knelt rigid, eyes wide, aware that any sound could invite his wrath. Wen Ruohan’s gaze swept over them slowly, deliberately, letting the question linger like a shadow of a sword poised above their necks.

At the far end of the hall, Wen Qing stood silent, observing. Her presence was faint, eyes tracing the movements of the men and the smoke curling from the burned corpses. She said nothing, yet the memory of her earlier comment during dinner lingered.

Finally, Wen Ruohan’s voice rose again, sharper this time, slicing through the quiet. “How did this happen? How was he rescued before we could even use him? How did the thief strike so swiftly?”

Heavy silence fell, as the enormity of the question sank in. Wen Ruohan’s red eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel understanding. The intruder—the masked thief—was no ordinary cultivator. Far from it. Quick, cunning, dangerous. He had the audacity and the skill to strike at Nightless City itself and leave without a trace.

Wen Ruohan’s lips curved into a slow, terrible smile. If the thief could act so swiftly, what would he do next? What power did he truly hold?

The answer came without sound, without words. The thief’s strength had been demonstrated. His cunning had been proven. And most importantly, his presence could not be ignored.

A plan began to form, intricate and cruel. Not to pursue the thief immediately—he was wounded already, and if he survived, he would surely come for them himself. No, patience would serve better. Let him think he had won. Let the world see the massacre and believe it justified by grief.

Wen Ruohan turned away from the smoking remains of his sons. He did not raise his voice, he did not curse. He was already thinking, plotting, letting the world serve as his stage.

“Send word,” Wen Ruohan said, his tone heavy as iron. “We will hold a feast. A memorial to my sons, struck down by a coward who dares hide his face. All clans will attend. To refuse will be an insult to Wen blood. To question will be disloyalty to the grieving Wen clan.”

The flames reflected in his eyes, and his smile curved too wide.

A captain’s voice cracked. “My lord, wh–what of the Lans? Surely—”

Wen Ruohan cut him off with a smile that never reached his eyes. He folded his hands on the table as if closing a verdict. “They will come,” he said, quiet and certain. “Cloud Recesses may hide behind mountains, protected by their barriers, but Gusu’s roofs are not. They will either die on my table, or watch their city burn.”

For a beat nobody moved. Then Wen Ruohan lifted one hand, slow and casual, as though pointing to nothing. From the shadows, a corpse-thing stirred, its limbs jerking like a puppet pulled on invisible strings. The soldiers around the hall stiffened, some recoiling as the creature’s dead eyes rolled white.

“My sons fell,” Wen Ruohan said, voice low and terrible, “but my army does not. You saw what one iron piece can do. Imagine what I will build when all the pieces are mine. Imagine what my army can do to my enemies.”

The hall fell into a silence so complete it felt like a held breath. Wen Ruohan let the pause lengthen, tasting it. He did not speak the rest aloud; he saw it, cold and precise, in the dark behind his eyes.

Let them gather. Let them drink, let them bow, let them mourn. And while they sit at my table, we will see what the thief does.

If he came, he would be there to face him. Before the assembled clans, he would crush him.

If he did not, then the banquet would become a slaughter. Heirs and leaders would fall together in the fire. And when the world asked why, he would already have his answer.

The thief forced my hand.

Either way, the story would end the same.

Either way, Wen Ruohan would win.