Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian weaves his way through the afternoon market stalls, pausing every so often to poke at or admire or puzzle over some item or another. There’s a whole row of stalls selling hand painted scrolls and books of poetry and prose, delicately bound so that their covers are as much art as their contents. He buys a stick of candied hawthorn, and then becomes so engrossed in solving the puzzle box perched on the corner of another table offering colorful toys and kites that he forgets to eat it.
All the while, as he weaves in and out of the merry crowds of shoppers, he keeps one eye trained for any flash of stark white robes against the bustling streets. By the time he has made nearly two full passes of the market, he has to admit to himself that he must be the first to arrive.
He’s not entirely surprised, because although Jurong City is slightly closer to Gusu than Yunmeng, he did get a bit of a head start, and has the advantage of traveling alone without a group of juniors to shepherd. Lan Zhan’s letter is tucked safely in his pocket, and although it had been barely a week since he’d left for Yunmeng to visit Lotus Pier, he’d been as happy to see Lan Zhan’s beautiful calligraphy as he'd been when receiving his sparse letters during his year of traveling before their marriage.
Jiang Cheng had scoffed and huffed over this when he’d seen his face, even more so when Wei Wuxian finished reading the letter right in the middle of the dinner it was delivered during. It was only a simple message to inform him that a request had been sent to Cloud Recesses from Jurong City for assistance with a possible haunting, and that Lan Zhan intended to take a group of the younger juniors there himself. The village had once been under the purview of the Moling Su sect, and from Lan Zhan’s delicate phrasing, Wei Wuxian had guessed that there was some mismanagement even before their sect leader was outed as a rotten bastard.
The letter was entirely proper, with the only piece of sentiment being the small “Yours, always” at the end that was reserved only for him. Still, Wei Wuxian had been able to read between the lines, so he grinned not over the words, but over the message that hadn’t been written: Lan Zhan planned to leave soon, and would not be there to greet Wei Wuxian when he returned to Cloud Recesses himself, and thoughtful as always, he hadn’t wanted Wei Wuxian to worry, for even a moment, where he had gone.
“You’re leaving early, then?” Jiang Cheng had asked, after he’d swatted at Wei Wuxian for ignoring him, and then pried the letter out of his hands to read for himself.
“Ah, Jiang Cheng, don’t be jealous! You know I treasure every moment with you,” Wei Wuxian said, but the idea was already settling in his mind. Jurong City wasn’t very far out of the way of his return from Lotus Pier, after all.
“It’s been too long since Lan Zhan and I have been on a night hunt together,” he’d said wistfully. Jiang Cheng didn’t point out that the two of them had only just gone on a night hunt yesterday.
If Wei Wuxian was being honest with himself, even one week was getting to be too long to be away from his husband, but he knew saying as much to Jiang Cheng would only prompt more griping about their clinginess.
Jiang Cheng had only rolled his eyes, saying, “I don’t know why they didn’t ask us. We’re just as close as Gusu.” They were, but only barely. Wei Wuxian still laughed.
“Even terrorized by ghosts, people will go out of their way to avoid your grumpy—“
“Shut up, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng had snapped, smacking his arm hard enough to splash wine over both of them. “Or should I throw you out tonight? Maybe next time you’re here, you’ll have learned some manners.”
Next time. Wei Wuxian had grinned, and Jiang Chang had squinted at him like he’d just bitten into a particularly sour fruit, but he didn’t take the offer back. Wei Wuxian had smiled and finished his wine, satisfied that Jiang Cheng wasn’t truly offended by him leaving early—he would stay, if he thought for a second he was. They’d let the conversation flow to other things, and Jiang Cheng had sniped at him a bit as he’d packed his things, and then he’d gone, claiming he was too busy with other things to see Wei Wuxian off in the morning.
Wei Wuxian is fairly certain that Lan Zhan hadn’t included where they were going as an invitation for him to come along, but really, if he’s surprised to see him when he does finally get here, he’ll have no one to blame but himself.
Wei Wuxian pauses in the street as the faintest brush of… something… draws his attention down one of the rows of stalls. He frowns, ignoring the grumbles of the people forced to flow around him as he cuts slowly across the street, searching. It had only been for a moment, the sensation not unlike the uneasy prickle of being watched, but whatever it had been, he can’t quite pinpoint the source—
A loud crash snaps his focus as a chorus of startled yelps erupt further up the road. The crowd ahead of him scatters backwards from the collapsed remains of a stall that was once selling steamed buns, which he unfortunately learns after one squishes under his boot before he can step around it. He cringes, but the owner of the stall is too busy swearing over the splintered leg of the stall to notice him stomping on his product, so he scrapes it off on the ground hastily.
By this point on his walk, the market stalls have thinned into only the occasional vendor selling mostly hot food and fresh produce, and the surrounding buildings have given over from businesses and inns to alleyways and the city’s larger houses. Wei Wuxian doesn’t mind the gawking onlookers blocking the road. He’s satisfied, now that he’s reached the very end of the marketplace, that he has truly arrived too early to surprise Lan Zhan.
It’s a shame Lan Zhan hadn’t included the name of the person who had requested their help in his letter. Wei Wuxian had somewhat naively thought he would be able to simply ask the locals until he’d found them, but he hadn’t realized that Jurong City was so large. It almost reminds him of Caiyi town, between the markets and the river that ran directly through its center.
He’d crossed a beautiful bridge on his walk here, and paused to stare down at the crystal clear water, missing Lotus Pier already. Maybe next time, he could convince Jiang Cheng to invite Lan Zhan to visit as well. Lan Zhan is still teaching and carrying some duties that ostensibly should belong to the sect leader, but between resigning from the role of Chief Cultivator and his brother transitioning out of seclusion, Lan Zhan finally has a small amount of free time again, and Wei Wuxian was determined to occupy as much of it himself as he possibly could.
Wei Wuxian stares back the way he’d come. He’d passed a number of inns on the way here, and although he doesn’t want to reserve a room just yet in case Lan Zhan arrives before nightfall, it’s close enough to dinner time that he could stop to eat and drink some of the wait away.
He’s resigned himself to do just that when the muttering behind him redoubles into something much more pointed, and something slams into his legs from behind, nearly sending them both sprawling. He puts an arm out on instinct and just barely manages to snag the sleeve of an absolutely filthy girl before she manages to face plant into the dirt.
Wei Wuxian nearly laughs at the indignant scowl she shoots at him, but before he can tease her over giving him such an ungrateful look, the man from the steamed bun stall stomps over and grabs her other arm. His face is an unflattering shade purple that Wei Wuxian recognizes well from his own ill-spent youth, but he’s still startled by the malice in his expression.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay away—“ He’s screaming so loud that heads have started to swivel, but when he raises a fist, that’s enough. Wei Wuxian snatches his arm before he can do anything and jerks it aside so roughly the man winces.
The man meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze, like he isn’t a coward about to hit a little girl, and actually has the audacity to glare at him like he’s done something wrong. Anger boils in his chest so quickly he has to look away to get a hold of himself. Wei Wuxian glances back at the crowd and freezes.
He’d been expecting to see, maybe not support, but at least something of his own outrage at the man’s actions reflected there. The memory of a crowd of strangers in Yiling, chiding a new father for failing to properly comfort his son, flashes briefly through his mind. Surely they could spare even half that contempt on behalf of this girl. Instead, the crowd stares with open distaste, not at the man, but at Wei Wuxian.
He meets their gazes, and their eyes quickly skitter away. Wei Wuxian may not carry a sword anymore, but even if they don’t recognize Chenqing on his belt, they can recognize a cultivator in the way he carries himself. The man jerks his arm back, and Wei Wuxian lets him go, but he doesn’t let go of the girl, only uses the hand on her arm to nudge her gently behind him.
“What’s going on, here?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Young master, don’t interfere. You don’t know...” A woman behind the merchant begins, and then trails off apprehensively. Wei Wuxian flicks his eyes over to her, but that is apparently all she has to say.
“That brat destroyed my stall,” the man says. “I’ve told her before to stay away, and now my stall is ruined, and an entire day’s worth of wages is on the ground!”
“I didn’t!” the little girl shouts, and while Wei Wuxian winces internally at her lack of manners, he knows better than to chide her for them now. He knows very well how that sort of criticism is taken by precocious little children, and with the state of her robes and hair, Wei Wuxian can guess very well for himself why she hasn’t been taught any manners.
The man keeps shouting at Wei Wuxian like he hadn’t even heard her, crowding into his space with every breath. He’s a large man, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t doubt that it’s a very intimidating act, when used against normal people. He looks all the more flustered when Wei Wuxian doesn’t back down, raising his voice even louder to talk over him as he says, “I saw her skulking around my stall earlier! I know what she—”
“That’s enough,” Wei Wuxian says. “I saw your stall collapse myself—”
“The lady did it, it wasn’t me!” the girl interrupts, stamping her feet.
“—and the leg clearly collapsed on its own,” Wei Wuxian says. “You can’t possibly blame a child for rotten wood on your own stall.”
He pulls his hand gently from the girl’s grip, and she switches from tugging on his fist to tugging on the bottom of his robe with an insistent: “It. Wasn’t. Me.”
Wei Wuxian has half a mind to just ignore the man’s arguments and leave him here, but he doesn’t particularly want to start an even bigger fight in the middle of a busy street, and even he has enough sense to recognize that he shouldn’t burn too many bridges with the townspeople before Lan Zhan even has a chance to start investigating.
The purse Lan Zhan had given him was far too heavy for a short trip to Lotus Pier, anyway—either Lan Zhan was expecting Jiang Cheng to charge him for the accomodation, or he’d severely overestimated the cost of the inns along the way. Wei Wuxian pulls out a silver piece, and only just resists the urge to fling it at the man’s feet.
“For the buns,” Wei Wuxian says, lighter than he feels. “Hopefully you can find a sturdy replacement for that leg.”
Then Wei Wuxian startles him further when he steps around the man and stoops down to start dropping pork buns into one of the stall’s toppled baskets. The man doesn’t move until the girl crouches down beside him to help, and even then he only blusters by to hover over them for a moment, like he’s considering dragging the argument out.
Instead the man stomps up the steps of the building behind his toppled stall and disappears inside. The crowd disperses with equal swiftness, at least pretending to no longer pay attention to them as they pick scraps from the ground.
“I’m Wei Wuxian,” he says lightly, when the little girl puts another dirty bun into his basket. She squints at him with incredible suspicion for a kid who hasn’t quite lost all her baby fat.
“I’m Lian,” she says sourly, and then, still squinting at him with open wariness, she adds, “I really didn’t do it.”
Ah, little Lian, what a pretty name. She has such a deathly serious expression on her tiny little face that he has to force himself to keep his smile in check. Instead he nods gravely, and she seems to relax a bit when she sees he’s taking her so seriously.
“I know you didn’t do it,” Wei Wuxian says. “The lady did, is that right?” She nods. “Xiaolian, did you see her?”
She nods again, forcefully this time.
“I see her every time,” she says, a little too loudly in her eagerness. “And she broke the leg. And she gets me in trouble.”
“That’s not very fair,” Wei Wuxian says. He stacks the last of the buns into his basket, but doesn’t stand. Xiaolian crouches beside him, tiny hands balanced on her dirty knees, not even attempting to hide her interest in the basket as he scoops it up with one hand. She hasn’t pocketed any of them like he’s certain he would have tried at her age, and the thought makes him smile.
“Xiaolian, where are your parents?” he asks, because he has to check. She shrugs, still staring at the basket, and he pretends the carefully nonchalant way she does it doesn’t scrape at some deeply buried part of him.
“That one’s dirty,” she says, pointing. They’re all a bit dirty, actually. He’s picked them up off the ground after all.
“How about this,” he says, like he’s making a deal with her, and not with himself. “How about you tell me more about this lady, and I’ll share my buns with you?”
She’s definitely interested, but she surprises him by pursing her lips in very obvious thought. “Why?”
“Why? Why do I want to know more about the lady?” he asks. She nods.
Because he’s pretty sure he felt something, before that stall collapsed, and he isn’t sure what it was, but there’s a good chance it’s related to whatever Lan Zhan is coming to investigate. That might be a bit too much for him to explain to such a young kid, though, so he just puts on his friendliest smile and says, “Because I’m a cultivator. Do you know what that is?” She nods again. “And if that lady is causing trouble, I’ll ask her to stop. I don’t live here, so I need a partner to help me.”
She purses her lips again, but doesn’t hesitate very long. “Partners,” she says decisively. Wei Wuxian grabs her hand gently when it darts out to grab one of the buns, and he tuts at her.
“Ah, wait a moment, let’s get out of the street,” he says. He’s been ignoring the irritated passersby as they crouched down to speak, but he wasn’t quite shameless enough to sit down for a meal in the middle of the road. He leads her back to the bridge before he deems them far enough to avoid any of the lingering eavesdroppers from earlier, and then he hoists her up onto the railing.
Wei Wuxian sits close enough to steady her if she starts to fall, and then sets the basket between them. He picks out one of the buns that had been saved from the dirt by it’s fellows and hands it to her, before grabbing a dirty one for himself.
She stuffs half of the bun into her mouth in one bite, while Wei Wuxian picks off pieces of gritty dough and flicks them into the river.
“Take smaller bites,” Wei Wuxian suggests, once she’s managed not to choke on the first one.
“I am,” she says through a mouthful. “I like this.” Wei Wuxian doesn’t really care for his husband’s no speaking while eating rule, but he has to admit that the half-chewed bun is a little gross.
“I like it too,” he says. He takes a bite, and then waits until she swallows again to ask, “So, what does this lady look like?”
“I don’t know,” she says with absolute certainty, and then stuffs the rest of the bun into her mouth.
“Didn’t you see her?” he asks.
“I saw her,” she says. Her nose scrunches up a little while she thinks, and it's the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “She looks like. Um. I don’t know.”
“How do you know it’s a lady, if you don’t know what she looks like?” Wei Wuxian asks. He picks a piece of gritty dough off of another bun and hands the clean half of it to her.
“Because I see her, and she was a lady,” she says. Well, Wei Wuxian can’t argue with that. “It’s too dark,” she adds.
“Did you see her at night?” he asks.
“I see her lots. By the buns. By my bed.” She shrugs. “Are you gonna talk to her?”
“If I can,” he says. “I’m waiting for my husband, and we’re going to investigate it together.”
Wei Wuxian’s not entirely certain how this lady, whoever she is, is related to whatever Lan Zhan is coming to investigate. This lady, if she is what he’d sensed earlier, hadn’t seemed malicious at all, and he doubts they would need to request help from one of the main sects just to deal with her. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for a city of this size to have a few harmless spirits that hadn’t attracted enough attention for a cultivator to be called in, or hadn’t done enough harm to be noticed by its less spiritually attuned citizens.
“Your husband? Who’s your husband?” Xiaolian asks.
“He’s a cultivator too,” Wei Wuxian says. “He lives far away, but he’s coming to visit, because someone asked for his help. I was going to surprise him, but I got here too early.” It’s getting pretty late already, and since Wei Wuxian doesn’t know when they’re arriving or what inn they plan to stay in, he’s probably going to have to get a room for himself tonight and try to find them tomorrow.
“I’m going to rent a room and see if I can find him in the morning. Do you want to come with me tonight?” he asks. He’s expecting the same enthusiasm that she’s put into every bite of those buns, so he glances over when she doesn’t respond. That careful, suspicious look is back in full force.
“Why?” she asks.
God, he was never this suspicious at her age. Although, actually, that was probably not a good thing. He’d been pretty lucky when Uncle Jiang found him, and that no one had tried to take advantage of his naturally happy disposition. He doesn’t love to think about the fact that no one had given him reason to be a suspicious kid, because that just makes him wonder what reasons Xiaolian might have to look at him so warily.
“Why?” he asks. He hops down from his seat on the railing and turns toward her, hands on his hips, and smiles. “Because we’re partners. Won’t you help me investigate?”
“Hm,” she says. “Okay.”
He wraps the rest of the buns up in a little parcel for her to carry, which she accepts with both hands and the air of a person being bestowed a weighty responsibility, and then steers her back across the bridge with a light touch on the back of her head. He’d made note of the inns he’d seen on the way into the city. He tries to guess which one Lan Zhan might pick, if he and the juniors arrive at the city late, and steers Xiaolian that way. The restaurant is still busy with the remainder of the dinner crowd, but the entryway to the inn is cloistered in a neighboring building, and much quieter. There’s a single woman standing behind the counter. She doesn’t see him at first, so he wanders up and raps lightly on the wood to get her attention.
“I’d like to rent a room, with two beds if possible,” he says. They’d just eaten, but a handful of buns wasn’t exactly a real meal, so he adds, “And if you could send tea and dinner for two up to the room—”
“Yes of course,” she says. She scrapes the silver he places on the counter into her palm.
“Do you have laundry service?” he asks. He turns down to Xiaolian, who’s probably squishing her buns with how tightly she’s clutching them, and taps her shoulder to get her attention. “Would you like to take a bath today, or tomorrow?”
The innkeeper leans over the counter to look, for a moment looking charmed. Then she spots Xiaolian, and her expression sours. “Ah! Go stand outside,” she snaps at her, startling Wei Wuxian with her tone. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Young Master, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” she says, though she doesn’t sound particularly sorry at all. Instead of apologizing for her behavior, she slides the silver Wei Wuxian just handed her back over the counter. He stares at it. “We can’t accept your money.”
Next to him, Xiaolian shifts nervously and eyes the door. He takes her little hand in his.
“If you’d like a room. A single, then of course we can help you,” she says. “Otherwise I’m afraid you can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” Wei Wuxian snaps. “You have the money there. Here.” He adds a little more with a frustrated clink.
She only bows her head further, not meeting his eyes. When she speaks, it’s very softly, like she doesn’t want the other patrons to hear.
“It’s not the money. It’s the girl. She’s… cursed,” she whispers, like some terrible secret. Wei Wuxian frowns at that.
“You can’t be serious,” he says, and if he’s making a habit of picking fights today, then Lan Zhan will just have to deal with it. The innkeeper keeps her head bowed and doesn’t answer. After a moment, he scrapes the money off the counter. Xiaolian clings to his neck without argument when he stoops down to pick her up, and she doesn’t even complain when one of the buns tumbles out of her grip to the floor. Wei Wuxian doesn’t even try to disguise his frustration when he stomps out the door.
He’s still carrying Xiaolian when he walks into the next inn, and this time he’s barely through the entryway before a young man reaches out to stop him.
At the next inn, he refuses to leave, demanding to speak with the owner.
“What kind of curse?” he demands, knowing it's ridiculous as he says it. He hasn’t seen a curse mark, and even if it was hidden, he’s certain he would have noticed any sort of resentful energy surrounding her.
“Young Master, you must understand. The girl destroys everything she comes into contact with. She was born cursed, everyone around here knows it. It’s very noble of you, to want to help her, but I can’t afford the risk. I have four daughters. My youngest is still a baby herself.”
“Then just rent us your worst room, and I’ll pay for any damages,” Wei Wuxian says.
“It’s not so simple,” she says. She wrings her hands for a moment before leaning in, like speaking the words out loud might tempt fate. “This girl is an orphan, because every house that takes her in falls to ruin. She is a blight. Her grandmother’s house burned to the ground, on the very coldest night of the year, and took every soul but hers. The father of the family who took her in suffered a terrible fall. Even her own mother wanted nothing to do with her, and disappeared without a word.”
“That’s hardly—”
“She has destroyed carriages. Killed pets. And I’ve heard that just today, a food stall in the marketplace, and all its contents.”
“Enough,” Wei Wuxian says. When he glances at Xiaolian, she seems completely unbothered by the woman’s account, but she’s clinging to his neck very tightly, with her knees poking into his side. “If you won’t rent me a room, give me someone who will.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and ushers him out without offering him a name.
Wei Wuxian is standing in the street, wondering where to go next, when Xiaolian squirms to be put down. Once he’s set her on her feet, she pats his hand reassuringly. He is instantly charmed, the knot of anger and frustration uncurling into an ache that’s no more comfortable, and harder to swallow.
No wonder she’s so suspicious, if this is her normal. He scrapes up every ounce of his self control to keep his voice light and carefree, and takes her tiny hand.
“Oh well,” he says. “It’s a nice night, so maybe I’ll sleep outside, if that’s okay with you.”
“I’ll show you my bed,” she says, and tugs him forward. “It’s a good spot. You can borrow it, and then when your husband comes, you can sleep at his house.”
“Good idea,” Wei Wuxian says, and lets himself be led along. He still has vague memories of sleeping outside, in stolen spaces in stables or empty alleyways, so he’s expecting it when she leads him back over the bridge and into the first alleyway past it.
He sits down where she points him, and when he presses his back against the wall it’s warm to the touch. The ground is fairly clean, and there’s a pleasant smell, a mixture of spice from someone’s dinner, and the muddy, green smell of the river that immediately sends him back to Lotus Pier.
“This is a good spot,” Wei Wuxian says, and he’s not even lying. He can see the arch of the bridge from here, and the first slip of the moon climbing over the water. He could paint this.
Wei Wuxian crosses his legs, and then pulls her into his lap, so she doesn’t have to sit on the hard ground. From his qiankun pouch he pulls cold tea that he’d steeped that morning, and the lotus cakes he’d meant to bring back to Cloud Recesses with him. He trades them to her for her dirty buns, and then helps her unwrap the paper around one of the cakes to eat.
She tries to stuff the whole thing in her mouth, and he has to remind her again to take smaller bites. Xiaolian eats the cakes like she hasn’t eaten all day, like it’s the last meal she’s ever going to eat. He helps her with the lid on the tea, and she keeps glancing up at him like he’s going to take everything away again when she thinks he’s not paying attention. He has to turn his face away and blink at the night sky for a moment, because he remembers that feeling so well that it's suddenly hard to breathe around the tightening ache in his chest, what it’s like to be hungry and not know where the next scraps will come from. She finishes the cakes and the tea all by herself, and then Wei Wuxian wraps it all up in his pouch again.
He brushes one hand over her hair, scratches his blunt nails against her scalp in a way he always found soothing when he was little, when Yanli used to help him fall asleep. He begins to hum quietly. She watches him owlishly for a while, but when he doesn’t ask anything else of her, she finally snuggles deeper into his lap, and tips her head back against his chest. She falls asleep with the moon edging slowly up into the sky, and Wei Wuxian keeps humming softly into the night.
At first he doesn’t think anything of the fog that rolls over the river, first swallowing the bridge and then cloaking everything, even the few feet in front of him, in a muffled quiet. It’s late enough that the streets are empty, and Xiaolian is a dead weight in his lap as she sleeps.
He’s dozing between the warm lump in his arms and the warm stone at his back, but even half-asleep he feels the slight shift of air around him, like the static prickling of a dead limb after heavy sleep. It’s the same feeling that passed over him earlier, just before the bun stall collapsed, but when Wei Wuxian glances around for a source, he doesn’t see anything through the fog.
Slowly, Wei Wuxian shifts to pull Chenqing from his belt and then slides an arm under Xiaolian to lift her up. She doesn’t so much as stir through all his jostling. It’s a little awkward to prop her against his shoulder and still keep his hands free to hold Chenqing, but the alternative is to leave her where she is, and that’s not going to happen. He searches for that creeping feeling, but it’s gone. The night is strangely still, like all the world has gone to sleep. He reaches out with his senses and finds nothing but a cool cottony emptiness.
The fog is so thick that Wei Wuxian has nearly stepped onto the bridge before he realizes that he’s not alone. There is a single shadow in the center of the bridge, just the right size to be a man. It could just be a citizen out for a late-night stroll, as surprised to see Wei Wuxian as he is to see them.
It stands perfectly still. Unease prickles at the back of his neck. The night air is still, but the bridge creaks ominously as though buffeted by the wind.
It’s impossible to make out anything more through the fog, but just as Wei Wuxian shifts Xiaolian higher, so that he can run his fingers over the lacquered surface of his flute, considering whether he should try to do anything with a baby in his arms, or whether he should risk it getting away—
He blinks, and the stench of rotting bodies rolls over him. He dodges back without seeing, and something lurches out of the fog to swipe at the space he’s just left. It shudders when the swipe catches nothing, and there’s no mistaking it for a person. Wei Wuxian feels Xiaolian shift, and he presses her face into his shoulder.
“Don’t look,” he says lightly, already dodging back again, “and hold on tight.” The thing, whatever it is, vanishes between one breath and the next.
He tries to stretch his senses through the fog, but the resentment feels strangely distant. He turns in a slow circle, but he can’t seem to pin it down. The rotting smell comes again, and Xiaolian gags and covers her nose. The shroud lifts briefly when it gets close, and he feels a flash of resentful energy before he dodges back into the fog.
A fierce corpse lurches forward, but not with the same shambling clumsiness he’d expected, as he’d seen so many times during the war, with Wen Ruohan’s puppets. Something about it isn’t right. The corpse turns and follows him with its eyes as he dances away. It’s gaze is chillingly keen. He leaps back toward the railing of the bridge to escape its reach. He hears the thump of footsteps and is surprised by how quickly the thing is moving. He’s so caught off guard that it takes him a moment to realize it’s not running toward him, but away.
Wei Wuxian lifts Chenqing to his lips when he feels that Xiaolian has a good grip on his robes.
The first note is like a knife through the silence. It hangs in the air, probing, but nothing calls back to him. He turns in a slow circle, but he can’t see anything through the unnatural fog, so he lets the note shift into a song. If he was alone, it would be a summons; come closer, let me see you, what do you want—
But he’s not alone, so he lets it be gentle and searching, just enough to be certain that it—whatever it was—is gone. He feels the fog shift around him, and suddenly the sounds of the night come rushing back—the trickle of water under the bridge, litter frogs chirruping in the grass. Something crunches on the gravel of the road behind him, and Wei Wuxian twirls toward the sound.
A figure in white melts out of the rapidly clearing fog, and then five more follow. Wei Wuxian lets his shoulders slump.
“Lan Zhan!” he says. He smiles, a little in relief, but mostly at the look on Lan Zhan’s face, surprised but happy to see him. “Did you see that thing? I couldn’t get a good look through this fog, but it really wasn’t happy to see me.”
Lan Zhan looks like he’s got no idea what Wei Wuxian is talking about, so he’s going to take that as a no.
“We heard Chenqing,” Lan Zhan says.
Xiaolian, seeming to realize that his order not to look has expired, turns her head to the side to peer at the Lan cultivators. Lan Zhan can’t possibly have only just noticed her now, but that doesn’t stop him from staring. He looks confused for exactly one moment. Then his expression goes adorably, embarrassingly soft, which is why Wei Wuxian can’t help but cackle when Xiaolian turns back to him with complete bafflement and says:
“Who’s that angry man?”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says helplessly, ears tinging red while Wei Wuxian doubles over laughing. Xiaolian giggles with him as the move tips her precariously sideways, and this time when she clutches at his neck, it's not with any real fear.
“He’s not angry! He’s very nice,” Wei Wuxian says, to much skepticism. “That’s my husband. Remember? I told you about him.”
“Hm,” she says. Her cheek is squished up against his shoulder, and he can tell that she’s stifling a yawn. He did wake her up in the middle of the night, and she’s pretty little, so he’s not surprised that she’s tired. “Okay. He can help us find the lady. And then you go back to his house.”
“Mhm,” Wei Wuxian says, rubbing a hand over her shoulders. He ignores the truly curious look on the juniors’ faces (very obvious) and Lan Zhan’s face (also very obvious, but probably only to him) and drops his voice to say, “Lan Zhan, I missed you. Also, Jiang Cheng says hello.”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan says doubtfully.
“Well, not in so many words,” Wei Wuxian admits, which earns him a slightly raised eyebrow. “Anyway, I got your letter, so I decided to meet you here.”
“I see,” Lan Zhan says.
“Jiang Cheng didn’t mind, he said we could come back again soon,” Wei Wuxian says, which is almost true, minus the ‘we’ and the ‘soon’. Wei Wuxian doesn’t think he would actually turn them away if he brings Lan Zhan along, although he’ll keep that fact that they haven’t been explicitly invited to himself. Lan Zhan makes a little disinterested noise, because he never enjoys visiting his brother-in-law even now that their outright dislike of each other has cooled to polite tolerance for Wei Wuxian’s sake. Wei Wuxian doesn’t mind, because he knows Lan Zhan will go whenever he asks, anyway.
“When did you arrive?” Lan Zhan asks, but he’s looking at the child in Wei Wuxian's arms, and the question is clearly, whose baby is this, and maybe, should I be concerned?
“I left basically as soon as I got your letter, so I got here this morning,” Wei Wuxian says. “And then I walked around the markets for a while, and that’s when I found her.” He gestures toward the dead weight in his arms with his chin.
“Senior Wei, who’s child is that?” Lan Xue asks.
“I’m still working that out,” Wei Wuxian says, “but she’s important for the investigation. I think. Sorry, Lan Zhan, you took too long to get here, so I’ve replaced you with a much cuter partner.”
“Partner,” Xiaolian agrees sleepily, and Wei Wuxian grins at Lan Zhan as though to say see? How cute are we? It earns him a tiny, if long suffering, smile.
“Where are you staying?” Lan Zhan asks quietly.
“Ah, about that,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Zhan follows his gaze to the alley, where his bags and a bunched up blanket are still propped against the wall.
“Do you not have money for a room?” Lan Zhan asks. He doesn’t even hide how deeply disapproving he sounds, like Wei Wuxian spent it all on wine or stupid trinkets (...which, to be fair, he has done before). He fishes the purse Lan Zhan gave him out of his sleeve and shakes it.
“I tried to get a room. No one would let us in,” he says. He folds the purse back into his sleeve. Lan Zhan’s expression goes dark and protective in a way that would be very thrilling, if he could do anything about it. Wei Wuxian sighs and shakes his head. “Not because of me, they have no idea who I am. Because of her.” Wei Wuxian is kind of expecting a moment of understanding here, but he doesn’t get one. “Everyone here seems convinced she’s cursed,” he clarifies. “Isn’t that why they asked Cloud Recesses to send some cultivators?”
“No,” Lan Zhan says. “We have heard nothing about a curse. Two women have been found dead so far. The local magistrate believes it is the work of a demon.”
“I’ve been here since this morning, and I haven’t heard anything about this,” Wei Wuxian says. He thinks fierce corpses might be a little more likely, with what he’d seen on the bridge, but that explanation doesn’t quite sit right with him, either.
“He is attempting to keep it quiet, to avoid panic,” Lan Zhan says. To avoid a scandal, more likely, that might hurt his reappointment. Wei Wuxian scoffs.
“Two women end up dead, but they’re afraid of a little girl,” he says.
“You said she has been cursed?” Lan Zhan asks, a little skeptically. Wei Wuxian waves him off immediately, and then goes back to soothing his hand over her shoulders. His other arm is going a little numb as she seems to grow heavier and heavier against him, so even though her face is turned away, he’s pretty sure she’s fallen back asleep. He flexes his fingers to get the blood flowing.
“She’s not cursed. She’s, well. We can discuss theories tomorrow. It’s pretty late, so you should get rooms before the juniors fall over.” A couple of postures straighten a little at that, as though they hadn’t been slowly listing sideways through the entire conversation. “Go on, I know you’re tired.”
“You’re coming,” Lan Zhan says.
“I’m not gonna leave her out here alone,” Wei Wuxian argues. Lan Zhan doesn’t even justify that with a response, and Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re so stubborn. They’re not going to let her in! I already tried.”
“You’re coming,” Lan Zhan says, and putting a hand under Wei Wuxian’s arm, steers him away from the bridge.
“My bags—” Wei Wuxian cranes his neck around to look, but one of the more eager juniors is already trailing after them with her arms full. Wei Wuxian sighs again. “Fine, you’ll see.”
Lan Zhan does not, as it turns out, see.
Wei Wuxian hasn’t forgotten how stubborn his husband can be—he is reminded quite often, thank you—but it is one thing to know that, and another to see it in action.
They end up back in the first inn. The innkeeper’s eyes are shiny and pleased upon seeing Lan Zhan’s elegant dress and equally fat purse, and Wei Wuxian gets to see her expression flip to just the polite side of annoyance when she sees him walk in after him.
Lan Zhan doesn’t miss it either, if his frosty expression is anything to go by, but ever the polite gentleman, he steps up to the desk and bows just slightly in greeting.
“Good evening,” she says directly to Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian stands a bit behind him, like he’s waiting his turn, and he realizes, when she pointedly doesn’t acknowledge him, that she thinks he’s back to appeal to her alone. She’s probably waiting for the elegant young master to leave, so that she can give him the boot in privacy.
“How can I help you?”
“We will need four rooms, with two beds each. Dinner and tea, as well.”
“Of course,” she bows a little, and flicks the tiniest glance at Wei Wuxian before turning away. “You’re in luck. These are our last empty rooms.” She directs them to the four rooms up the stairs, at the very end of the hall, and asks what kind of tea they would like, and all the while not looking at Wei Wuxian, like he’ll slink out on his own if only she doesn’t acknowledge him.
Lan Zhan pays, thanks her. Then he turns to Wei Wuxian, and nods toward the stairs.
“Ah,” she says, a little too loudly. Her eyes have gone very wide, whether from her outburst or Lan Zhan’s sudden attention. “Ah, forgive me. Are you—”
“My husband,” Lan Zhan says, and apparently they’re not waiting for her opinion on that, because he puts a hand on Wei Wuxian’s back and starts steering him toward the stairs.
“Young master, just a moment.” She comes around the desk, but she looks a little sick at having to do it when she meets Lan Zhan’s stony expression. Wei Wuxian understands, although he’s not feeling particularly sympathetic at the moment. He’s just tired, mostly, and a little numb, but only in his left arm.
Lan Zhan dismisses the juniors with a single look, and the innkeeper looks even more dismayed as they swish up the stairs.
“Hanguang Jun, that girl. Are you aware—” She trails off, but Lan Zhan makes no attempt to rescue her. “The girl is cursed,” she says plaintively.
Lan Zhan’s reply is an immediate and dismissive, “Hm.”
“And... and I’ve told your husband,” She glances over at him, “that we cannot afford the risk of housing her.”
“If it is monetary risk, rest assured, Gusu Lan will pay for any damages,” he says. “If it is this supposed curse itself, then I can only assure you that every disciple of Gusu Lan is trained in breaking spiritual curses. I will see to it personally.” The unspoken and it would be an insult to doubt me is heavily implied.
Lan Zhan, who hasn’t taken his hand off Wei Wuxian’s back during the entire encounter, nudges him gently toward the stairs. Wei Wuxian leans into the touch just slightly as Lan Zhan brushes her off again with a very firm, “Good night.”
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, as Lan Zhan slides the door open for him. The disciples rooms are closed, but he could still see lights under each of the doors as they passed, waiting for food and tea. He almost expects them to spit in it, except that the innkeeper had recognized Lan Zhan, so she wouldn’t dare. “That was your plan? Just blow right past her? I can’t believe you bullied her into letting us stay.”
“You deserve a bed,” Lan Zhan says. “It would be foolish, even if she was truly cursed.”
Wei Wuxian sighs as he eases the sleeping bundle onto one of the beds, gently brushing the hair out of her face. She’s all kinds of grimy, but there’s no point in waking her up now, so he tucks the blankets around her. Tomorrow he’ll wrestle her into a bath, if she’ll let him, and see if the inn has a laundry service for her robe, if they don’t try to kick them out again at the first opportunity.
Strong arms slide around his waist, pulling him close, and Wei Wuxian melts into them. It’s been a week since he’s been able to just let Lan Zhan hold him, and that is far too long. When he turns around to face him so that they’re pressed chest to chest, Lan Zhan’s expression softens. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile back at him, lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheek.
They stand in the middle of the room, just holding each other, trading soft kisses between sighs, until someone knocks quietly on the door.
“Have you eaten?” Lan Zhan asks, and his eyes slide over to the bed in a silent question before he turns quietly to the door. Wei Wuxian trails after him, reluctant to let go, but he sits down at the table anyway when Lan Zhan gestures for him to sit.
“Don’t wake her. We ate more than you have, probably,” Wei Wuxian says. He doesn’t mention that most of his own dinner had been picked up off the ground. “But I’ll sit with you while you eat.”
Lan Zhan sets the tray down quietly between them, pours tea, and Wei Wuxian just leans on his fist and stares and smiles as this ridiculous, stubborn man starts filling two bowls to feed him anyway.
“You said you do not believe she is cursed,” Lan Zhan says, prompting, and then he picks up his chopsticks and begins to eat.
Wei Wuxian gives him an abridged version of his day, Lan Zhan occasionally humming encouragement, pausing or frowning when Wei Wuxian glosses over the steamed buns, which he hadn’t told him about, and the innkeeper, which he had.
“They seem to think she’s cursed, but I really don’t think that’s it,” Wei Wuxian says, popping vegetables into his mouth as quickly as Lan Zhan can put them in his bowl. “For one thing, a curse that just causes disasters would be pretty strong, and I doubt it would stay so localized.” He pauses.
“She mentioned a lady,” he says, and Lan Zhan shoots him an inquisitive look. “Yeah, I thought it was interesting, too. Of course, she’s pretty young. She could just be talking about a woman she’s met, or. I don’t know, an imaginary friend.” Lan Zhan looks like he wants to say something, so he pauses to see if he will.
“Sizhui was very imaginative, at that age,” Lan Zhan agrees quietly, and Wei Wuxian’s heart immediately pangs at the tiny smile he wears at the memory. It’s ridiculous to be jealous that Lan Zhan got those moments, and the last thing he wants is for Lan Zhan not to share them with him, so Wei Wuxian shoots him a little smile of his own. His husband probably sees right through him, but that’s okay, because he can always ask him about it later, and then tease Sizhui mercilessly with the details.
Of course, he’d have to tease Lan Zhan for being so soft, too, because imaginative sounds suspiciously like a word Wei Wuxian would have chosen if he was trying to get around the consequences of breaking the Lan Sect’s rule against lying.
“Mn, I thought about it,” Wei Wuxian says. “But when I asked her to describe her, she couldn’t. All she said was where she’d seen her, and that this lady got her in trouble. I think if she was just playing, she wouldn’t have trouble making up the details.” Lan Zhan nods at this logic, back to quietly eating, and occasionally refilling Wei Wuxian’s bowl or tea. He’s barely going to eat any of it himself at this rate, so Wei Wuxian starts filling his bowl right back with bits of tofu and greens.
“Anyway, I don’t think she’s really cursed. I think these people are just superstitious, and a child is an easy target for their fears.” He scowls at his bowl, chews thoughtfully. “Honestly, it’s more likely got something to do with whatever I saw on that bridge. I swear I sensed this lady—or whatever it is—just before that thing showed up.” He sighs. “It looked like a fierce corpse, but… I don’t know. It was definitely resentful. I wish I’d gotten a better look at it.”
Lan Zhan clearly disagrees with that. He sets his chopsticks down, and quietly finishes his tea.
“I agree, that she is likely not cursed,” he says after a moment. He quietly stacks their empty dishes, considering each word. “As for the creature on the bridge—we have arranged to meet the local magistrate before lunch tomorrow. We will begin our investigation then.”
“You said he thinks it's a demon killing women, right? I’ll come with you, of course. We can ask about Xiaolian’s situation while we’re there,” Wei Wuxian says, stretching his arms back until his shoulders pop. Lan Zhan hums vaguely, but his disapproving look at his posture would be much more convincing if he weren’t looking at him like… well, like he’s missed Wei Wuxian this week as much as he’s missed Lan Zhan.
Wei Wuxian had shucked his outer robe almost the moment he’d gotten in the door, but he’s always happy to help Lan Zhan with all of those complicated layers.
Lan Zhan gives him the world's tiniest raised eyebrow when Wei Wuxian bats his hands away to undo his belt and flicks a very pointed look over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, to the adorable little bundle there. Wei Wuxian still thrills at the idea of being teased, even this many years into their marriage, and he could get Lan Zhan out of his robes in the dark with his hands tied, so he just grins and slides closer, until they’re nearly chest to chest.
“How shameless, Lan Zhan. Can’t I help my husband get comfortable for bed?” he asks, and brushes a kiss over his husband’s jaw, the corner of his mouth. He slips his outer robes over his shoulders. “Must my intentions be impure?”
Lan Zhan’s ears are very pink, but he looks deeply amused regardless.
“My mistake,” he says, and bows his head slightly so that Wei Wuxian can tug at the pins holding his hair in place, picking apart the hairpiece. Wei Wuxian runs his fingers through the loose strands of hair he shakes free. He undoes the forehead ribbon last, folding it carefully in his hands, and kisses the end of it.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, you can’t look at me like that,” he says when he glances back up. Wei Wuxian would be embarrassed at the way those words come out slightly breathless, if he wasn’t trying very hard to calm his hammering heart. It would be one thing if Lan Zhan was only affected by his teasing, but the look he’s giving him isn’t even heated. It’s just unbearably fond, in a way that still surprises him, even after all this time.
“Mn, apologies,” Lan Zhan says, and he lets Wei Wuxian climb into the empty bed first so that he can pull Lan Zhan down between himself and the rest of the room. Wei Wuxian curls around him as Lan Zhan whisks out the lights with a flick of his fingers.
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian whispers, when Lan Zhan doesn’t immediately drop into his easy, disciplined sleep. There’s a thoughtful quiet, long enough that Wei Wuxian would have thought Lan Zhan had fallen asleep after all, if not for the tiny shifting to pull him closer.
“Xiaolian,” he says eventually. “Have you searched for her family?”
“She’s an orphan,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m not sure about next of kin. If she has any, they haven’t taken her in.”
“What would you like to do?” Lan Zhan asks, after a long moment.
“I don’t know. Help her,” he says. That answer is easy. Lan Zhan’s fingers are tracing a soothing pattern between his shoulders, and it’s easy to keep his head tucked under his chin, where he won’t have to face him directly, even in the dark. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, I just…”
He trails off, not really sure what to say. Wei Wuxian knows he’s being very transparent here, but Lan Zhan has the decency not to point it out. Wei Wuxian kisses his jaw chastely, loath to give up the comfort of Lan Zhan's arms around him, not to mention he’s still very aware of the tiny body fast asleep in the second bed. Lan Zhan hums, and the arms around him tighten in quiet acknowledgement.
“We will discuss it tomorrow,” Lan Zhan promises. “Sleep. I will wake you early.”
“Not too early.”
“Early,” Lan Zhan insists, and tilts his head down to capture Wei Wuxian’s lips for one more kiss before they settle in for sleep.