Chapter 1
Notes:
Note: this part does mention animal death directly caused by neglect. If anyone wants to skip that section, it begins with “A mostly-buried memory” and ends with “since the day he’d left for Meishan.” It’s very short and I will happily provide more info about it if you drop me a comment!
Chapter Text
Li Linxia laughed when he told her.
“Yiling University?” she managed to choke out between giggles. He tried not to sigh too obviously and failed judging from the indulgent timbre in which she continued. “What could they possibly have offered for you to accept an interview in Yiling?”
He opened the curtains to look out across the city in question. Yiling seemed grey and unpleasant compared to Gusu, all bland concrete cubes instead of the complementary natural shapes the buildings in Caiyi Town and Cloud Recesses prized. They’d set him up in the nicest hotel in the city, in one of several suites that nonetheless showed its age in the greying carpet and dated decor.
“The university here is opening a faculty of cultivation and they’re doing everything in their power to attract competent instructors.” Indeed, they’d gone above and beyond in trying to impress him.
The university campus hadn’t struck him as anything impressive—certainly not the same calibre of school as UGusu—but they were willing to allow him to choose whatever specialty he wishedand continue his independent research in exchange for assisting with the overall development of the curriculum for students of all levels.
While he suspected it was, in part, because he was a Lan sect cultivator, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d made similar offers to all potential faculty members. According to rumour, they’d only managed to tempt a handful of instructors aboard. He appreciated the inherent challenge he’d face in accepting the position; the thought of becoming a cornerstone for what could prove to be a revitalized institution tempting despite his reservations.
He also worried that the enterprise might be doomed to failure.
Even those with poor cultivation wanted to attend the prestigious institutions of places like Gusu, Lanling, Qinghe, and Yunmeng. One might argue that Qishan had made waves in the academic community of late, despite the unsubtly nationalist bent to their curriculum. Smaller schools often struggled to compete for the best and brightest, and sadly ended up with mediocre results reflected by their graduates. All of which conspired to make Yiling University’s Faculty of Cultivation a failed endeavour.
“I do have to give them credit,” he continued, allowing the curtains to flutter shut. “They’ve made great strides. Several local primary schools have even introduced cultivation streams for new learners to begin encouraging foundational education.”
Long overdue in his opinion. This close to the Burial Mounds, they’d depended far too long on YunmengJiang. They’d obviously been scrambling since Jiang-zongzhu withdrew his support from the region, a little over a year past. While it would take years for them to regain the efficacy they’d enjoyed while under the protection of Lotus Pier, they had already proven their interest in such a long-term investment.
“Are you honestly considering it?” Li Linxia asked, her tone fading from amused to quietly interested. She managed to avoid any hint of condemnation, which he felt was more than he could expect from anyone else he might talk to in Gusu. He could already hear the questions asked through the elders’ sneered lips.
If he accepted, he would be the first Lan cultivator to move to an institution outside of Gusu in five generations. Possibly ever. He wasn’t sure he relished the thought. On the other hand, he likewise wasn’t keen on being a nepotism hire at UGusu. With the completion of his postdoc, he’d been courted by a number of institutions already and had only agreed to speak with Yiling University out of perverse curiosity.
Still, ‘pleasantly surprised’ wasn’t enough justification for a drastic swerve away from plans he’d made long ago. It would take something truly life-changing before he'd be more than mildly tempted to consider the prospect. “I suspect it will be an easy decision.”
She hummed. “When do they expect an answer?”
“The first year would involve the administrative functions of the new faculty and organizing degree requirements and so forth. It’s an open invitation. If I agreed, they’d likely have me start tomorrow.”
“And… have you spoken with your brother?”
Lan Qiren’s brow furrowed. “No.”
She offered a noncommittal sound in reply. While she and his brother hadn’t spoken in person since the finalization of the divorce, she’d never outright spoken against him to Lan Qiren. Indeed, of the two of them, he tended to be more outspoken when it came to the challenges of loving Qingheng-jun.
She didn’t press, and he offered nothing more on the subject.
“I’ve arranged to pull the boys a bit early from school tomorrow so we can all pick you up from the train station.”
“Unnecessary,” Lan Qiren muttered, nonetheless quietly pleased. “You should be more attentive to their education.”
Li Linxia laughed again, one of few people who could always tell when he mustered up a rare attempt at teasing. “I daresay they can miss an afternoon to greet their Shufu when he arrives home.” He grumbled but offered no other protest. He’d gone right from a symposium in Lanling to the meeting in Yiling; seeing the boys after almost two weeks’ absence felt overdue.
“Then I suppose I shall see you there.”
He did not see her there.
Lan Qiren waited for an hour, a slowly escalating panic clawing its way up from his stomach and carving its way through him. All calls went to voicemail.
He’d only just reached out to order a car down from Cloud Recesses when his phone chirped in his hand with an incoming call. He managed half a sigh of relief before the sound caught in his throat as the number for the local hospital appeared on his screen.
Lan Qiren was Li Linxia’s emergency contact.
He knew before he answered what he would hear on the other end.
It beggared belief that a star burning brightly as Li Linxia’s had been extinguished in a car accident.
In the days following Li Linxia’s death, a great many ‘would you minds’ crossed Lan Qiren’s path, mostly from his brother. First there came the entirely expected ‘would you mind making the necessary arrangements’ for her funeral, ‘would you mind’ collecting her body and ‘would you mind’ overseeing the packing of her apartment in Caiyi Town. She’d kept her own residence since shortly after A-Zhan’s birth, a spacious flat near the lake with ample room for herself and both boys during their time together.
(When she and his brother had first announced their separation, she refused to be shuffled politely out of the way. He could still remember their outrage when her lawyer—a talented individual specializing in challenging traditional sect precedents with established family law—had successfully argued for her to have primary custody with the conclusion of the boys visiting Cloud Recesses for private tutoring and nothing more.
“Where did she even find this individual?” Lan Zhurun demanded uselessly for the fiftieth time. “She operates out of Meishan.”
“What does it matter?” Qingheng-jun asked, studying the package the lawyer had dropped on his doorstep earlier that evening. “The boys will still be Lan cultivators, raised in our traditions. If she wants to do the brunt of the thankless child-rearing, it’s her prerogative.”
Lan Qiren tried, and mostly failed, not to feel affronted on his sister-in-law’s behalf.)
Packing up her apartment was an exercise in heartbreak. He kept his own home relatively spartan as a concession to the aesthetics of Cloud Recesses; the organized disaster of Li Linxia’s flat seemed overwhelming in comparison. There were innumerable pieces of child-drawn art on the walls—A-Huan was a promising artist, and while his tutors refused to allow him to remove his original paintings to his mother’s home, he faithfully recreated some of his best pieces for her. Photographs hung on every surface of the boys, of Li Linxia and her friends, of Lan Qiren himself in rare moments he’d allowed his picture to be taken. None of Qingheng-jun, though he thought he recognized the hands in a cropped down picture of an ecstatic A-Huan holding A-Zhan in the hospital shortly after his birth.
He kept the photographs, her countless volumes of poetry, her jewelry. He boxed up her clothing to donate and made arrangements for her furniture.
When he reached the boys’ rooms, his heart collapsed in on itself. They felt so alive. Small knick knacks covered every surface of A-Huan’s—a collection of items ranging from rocks to letters written from friends far and wide. A-Zhan’s room was a testament to the positive influence of his mother: the elders treated him as little more than a spare to A-Huan’s heir and he rarely expressed interest in anything unrelated to GusuLan cultivation under their scrutiny. In his mother’s home, his interest in music exploded in well-loved (if age-appropriate) scores kept neatly next to his bed. Dozens of pictures of small animals hung upon the walls, their stuffed equivalents arranged in a neat pile atop his covers. A-Zhan had a kind heart, buried beneath a veneer of disinterest well older than his years. His room put it all on display for anyone to gander.
Lan Qiren found it easier to stay in her apartment and sleep on her couch than make the half hour drive up the mountain to and from Cloud Recesses each day. He called the boys to check in, during which A-Huan assured him they were staying with their father and everything was fine. Lan Qiren did not remind him that lying was prohibited; that wasn’t the sort of weight he wanted to place on the shoulders of a grieving teenager while on the phone. If any relief could be found in the tragedy, it was that the boys hadn’t been in the car with her at the time of the collision. He didn't care to think that they'd waited longer than he had to hear news of her passing.
By the end of the week, heartsick with grief and his small hatchback laden down with the first set of boxes, he finally made his way home. He arrived well past curfew and had to dig through his laptop bag to find his fob to open the gates, wearily wincing through the grinding as they slid open.
He thought of checking in on the boys, but decided they’d both be better served by getting a good night’s sleep. He managed to send off an email to his two research collaborators to let them know he’d made it home in good order and barely remembered to deposit his clothes into the laundry hamper before finally collapsing in bed.
After crawling out from under the covers the following morning, he dressed and went in search of his nephews. He hadn’t had much reason to visit his brother’s home over the past few years; in general, when they met, it was in one of the main receiving rooms on official business. Both of them, he suspected, preferred it that way. While they’d been close as children, it had been many years since they’d managed more than distant exchanges prefacing meetings about the general well-being and daily operations of the sect. Qingheng-jun regarded him with fraternal condescension. Lan Qiren's thought often tended to be much less filial.
If he had to put a date on it, there had been a moment shortly before A-Huan began school, when he’d found his brother aimlessly wandering the grounds of Cloud Recesses.
“I shouldn’t have married that woman,” he said. “I should have listened to the counsel of the elders and found someone more befitting of the station of a sect leader’s wife. Did you know,” he continued immediately, “That she thinks A-Huan should be in public school? As if allowing him to associate with mediocre children will be of some benefit to him?” He pursed his lips in disbelief. “I have allowed the ruination of our sect in through our gates.”
Still, they’d managed to repair the relationship for at least a while. Until A-Zhan was conceived, which Lan Qiren still saw as a minor miracle.
He didn’t want to waste time with ‘what ifs.’ If she’d stayed, she’d once confessed, she might’ve died long before now.
“You can’t keep swallows in captivity,” she often told him. “They’re too used to flight.”
Hopefully her skies were wider and more beautiful than ever.
After crawling out of bed the following morning, he dressed and reached the hanshi shortly after when the boys should have sat down to eat, immediately on guard when he did not see his brother’s car parked in the driveway. There were no classes today, and given their recent loss surely they would not have been left alone?
A-Huan opened the door with a tear-stained face moments after Lan Qiren knocked. The smell of burning rice immediately assaulted his senses.
“Shufu,” he breathed in desperate relief. “I was making breakfast and A-Zhan tried to help and he burnt his hand and now he’s hiding under his bed and he won’t come out.”
“Breathe,” Lan Qiren said at once, the need to assuage his nephew’s angst easing the way through his sudden, intense anger at his brother for having left the boys on their own.
“But—”
“We know where A-Zhan is, and I will see to him in a moment. Right now, you need to take a breath and centre yourself.”
A-Huan dragged in a gulp of air, half-choking on it. Lan Qiren placed his hands on A-Huan’s shoulders, a gentle touch to help ground him until his hiccupping little sobs eased and he managed to regain control of himself. Once he did, Lan Qiren allowed his hands to fall away.
“Is the stove off?” he asked first.
A-Huan nodded. “I threw the pan in the sink.” His eyes widened. “Shufu, what if I’d burned down the house? What if A-Zhan had been really hurt? I don’t—”
“That did not occur. You are fine, and I’m sure A-Zhan is too. Please take me to him.”
With a teary nod, A-Huan led him through the house to the room the boys were sharing.
In the week since receiving the news, he’d hoped his brother would have things in better order. The boys had been shuffled into the room his brother usually used as an office, two raised cots awkwardly pushed into opposite corners with their suitcases sat at the end of the beds. Small, gasping little wheezes came out from beneath one of them and Lan Qiren knelt down beside it.
“A-Zhan,” he said softly. “May I see your burn?”
The sniffling stopped, but no injuries emerged. “Shouldn’t have touched it,” A-Zhan whispered.
“You are not in trouble, A-Zhan.”
At the door, A-Huan looked moments away from once again bursting into tears. Li Linxia would have known what to do, he thought with a stab of pain. She’d have reached out and offered kind words and a warm embrace. Lan Qiren had never been particularly good at either, but for his nephews he always tried his best. He held out an arm and A-Huan immediately tucked himself into Lan Qiren’s side.
A-Zhan’s breath caught, his shaky voice almost disappearing in the space between him and the edge of the cot, “I upset xiongzhang.”
“He is upset you are hurt. He is not upset at you,” Lan Qiren said. “Do you understand the difference?”
A-Zhan’s hand slowly slid out for inspection. A nasty half-crescent in the obvious shape of a pot’s edge marred his palm red. While probably painful, at least the burn didn’t look severe.
He wondered (doubted) if his brother kept a first aid kit on hand. When he asked, A-Huan shook his head. “I wasn’t able to find one.”
It took a half hour to fully coax A-Zhan out from beneath the cot. Lan Qiren never felt quite himself when using gentle words in a soft tone. It frustrated him that such things did not come naturally and the frustration tended to bleed into his voice. For the boys, he forbore the frustration as best he could.
“When did your father say he would be home?” Lan Qiren asked once A-Zhan was out of hiding. His younger nephew disdained contact with most people, but allowed Lan Qiren to hold his hand and pass spiritual energy through to it. He’d generally prefer first aid for a child considering the agonizingly slow process of passing spiritual energy through undeveloped meridians, but the burn had gone unattended for too long.
“He did not share anything,” A-Huan replied, his gaze troubled. “He made sure to leave instructions.”
Lan Qiren frowned. “He was not here when you woke this morning?”
A-Huan shook his head and immediately looked guilty for having done so. “Fuqin is very busy.”
There existed every possibility that he hadn’t been home at all, then. The leader of GusuLan dedicated himself to the smooth operations of their sect. It would not be the first time he’d stayed overnight in his office. To do so with the boys here was unconscionable.
“Did you eat breakfast?” Both boys shook their heads. “Come. I’ll prepare something.”
He cast a last look around the small room.
“I’ve collected your things from your mother’s home.” A-Huan nodded sadly even as A-Zhan whimpered and grabbed his brother’s hand. “Once your father reorganizes the space, I’ll help you move everything in.”
“I don’t believe everything will fit, Shufu,” A-Huan reminded him. “Fuqin told us I’ll be going to stay in the dormitories soon anyway. A-Zhan won’t need much room.”
Li Linxia had fought tooth and nail against the boys going to the dormitories. They were sparsely populated these days. Most Lan cultivators kept their children at home, thus the dorms tended to be used only by those students of an advanced age who wanted to collaborate with their peers and needed the space to do so away from their family homes. In the summer, they were practically empty. To the best of his knowledge, the youngest student staying in the dorms at the moment was a full five years older than A-Huan and used them only as a space to sleep in between lengthy study sessions in the Cloud Recesses library.
“He said I should ask you to keep my guqin,” A-Huan continued.
“If it comes to that, I shall,” Lan Qiren said. He looked again at the small room, barely large enough to comfortably accommodate the enormous desk. The boys didn’t have much. Most of their belongings had been shoved into hastily-packed suitcases of necessary items retrieved from their mother’s. He’d collected more of their things in the innumerable boxes he’d spent the past week moving. “Bring your things. You’ll be more comfortable with me for the time being.”
It should have hurt how both of them slumped in relief, if for his brother’s sake if nothing else. He personally found himself uninjured.
The walk back to his own home wasn’t far, though he bundled them up against the chilly early morning air.
He installed them in his spare room—still a shared space, but at least not already dominated by furniture—and set to making them a meal.
A-Huan drifted in a short while later. Lan Qiren had often watched him lean heavily against his mother when they’d been in her kitchen, their heads pressed close together and laughing over inanities Lan Qiren pretended not to enjoy. A-Huan hadn’t managed to outgrow Lan Qiren yet, though it was likely only a matter of time.
“Thank you,” he whispered, settling against Lan Qiren’s side. “I’m sorry we’re a burden.”
“You are not a burden, and I will not hear such things from anyone including yourself,” Lan Qiren stated. “Cite rule one hundred and thirty-one.”
“‘Be kind to yourself to model the behaviour for those of low self-worth,’” A-Huan quoted. Lan Qiren nodded brusquely. “Do… do you think it will be permitted for me to stay here with you and A-Zhan instead of living in the dormitories?”
“I will ensure it,” he promised.
He wanted to believe Qingheng-jun had suggested it without thinking it through. His brother reserved his time, energy, and focus in advancing the interests of GusuLan, which only extended to the boys insofar as making sure their succession of tutors and mentorship of the senior disciples were properly facilitating their education in cultivation. Securing a sect heir had been his sole motivation for marrying, though he had defied the elders by choosing someone for himself instead of caving to their desires for an arranged marriage. Even then his choice had been relatively disinterested; Li Linxia had been considered one of the great beauties of their time. Perhaps, had he listened and caved to their suggestions, Li Linxia could have been saved the heartbreak of a loveless marriage.
(It also could have led to Lan Qiren having someone like Yu Ziyuan as a sister-in-law, which would have been… less than ideal. While his interactions with the Violet Spider had been limited, they’d left an impression. A formidable woman, yes, but not one he felt would suit the vaunted tranquility of Cloud Recesses.)
“Good. I don’t want A-Zhan to be alone.”
“Alone?” Lan Qiren frowned.
“Fuqin said he was probably old enough to take care of himself. And I know A-Zhan is very smart and responsible, but he doesn’t like being on his own too much.”
Lan Qiren’s frown deepened, his forehead aching with the deep furrow in his brow. “A-Huan… how long were you two left alone?”
“We met with the tutors on Friday,” A-Huan replied.
The entire weekend.
The entire weekend! Within a week of the death of their mother. Absolutely unbelievable! What was his brother possibly thinking?
A mostly-buried memory bullied its way to the forefront of Lan Qiren’s thoughts. When they’d been but children, Lan Qiren barely five, their parents had gifted his brother with a pair of bunnies.
“Pets are forbidden in Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren had parroted immediately upon seeing them, torn between desperately wanting them for his own and jealous of his brother’s fortune in receiving them and shackled by the precepts which disallowed him to express either.
“We have made arrangements with the elders to allow them,” his father said. He patted Lan Qiren’s shoulder. “Perhaps, when you are older, we can do the same.”
His brother looked at them sceptically. “What do I do with them?”
As his parents began reciting the instructions for keeping them, Lan Qiren listened with rapt attention, committing everything to memory.
From then on, he was the one to refresh their water, feed them, clean out their hutch, and take them out to socialize and exercise them. He didn’t dare give them names, in case his brother thought it a step too far, but his brother showed no interest. They might have been a piece of ugly furniture, tucked into a corner of his room and ignored. In a week he thought he’d never loved anything like those bunnies. After a year, he felt confident of it.
At six, he’d been invited to spend time with his mother’s family in Meishan. ‘A way to keep all our traditions alive,’ his mother said. His father had been in Qinghe, leaving only his brother at home.
Before leaving, Lan Qiren asked his brother to solemnly swear to look after the rabbits.
His brother waved him off with a promised, “You worry too much, didi.”
Lan Qiren came home a month later to the news that his father had discovered both bunnies dead when he’d arrived from Qinghe, and had kindly removed both their bodies and the hutch before Lan Qiren and his mother returned.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” his brother said. “You didn’t even name them.”
“They were your bunnies!” Lan Qiren had screamed in defiance of every rule about behaviour. Curiously, his parents did not punish him for it.
“Then you have even less reason to cry.”
And that had been the last word on the matter.
(Later that afternoon, deeply in mourning, Lan Qiren had found their food, shoved to the back of the kitchen pantry, untouched since the day he’d left for Meishan.)
This wasn’t the first time he’d thought of it in the intervening years. Shortly after the death of their father, when he’d stood next to his now-deceased mother and watched Qingheng-jun ascend as clan leader, he’d asked her, the grief over his father trotting out the long-forgotten memories for inspection.
“Oh, my darling, I’d forgotten all about that.” He’d never heard his mother lie before, but in that moment, he could tell she not only remembered, but also thought about it. Often. “We, your father and I, wanted to give him something to care for.” She smiled kindly, looking ancient in ways she hadn’t before his father’s passing. “To show him the value of caring.”
Because his brother seemed constitutionally incapable of care. Interest, yes, and investment in ventures he considered worthy. But care? Not at all.
Something in his expression shifted, and A-Huan scrambled to add, “It was fine, Shufu! I took care of A-Zhan, even though his hand got hurt, and I promise I didn’t mind! I love helping him!”
Ever the pleaser, Lan Qiren thought darkly. He’d need to be careful, or someone might eventually come along and take advantage of his kindness.
“You did excellently,” Lan Qiren said. “This is not about whether you are capable of watching A-Zhan. No one doubts you do a wonderful job as an older brother.”
Relief suffused A-Huan’s expression and Lan Qiren took a moment to feel the profound loss of his sister-in-law and his parents; those who helped smooth over his edges. He had not always been capable of offering comfort beyond reiterating rules he believed relevant to the subject.
A-Zhan joined them for breakfast. The three of them ate in silence, giving Lan Qiren an opportunity to really look at his nephews in an unguarded moment. A-Huan’s eyes, distant and older than his years, sat in a sallow face bereft of its usual smile.
(“You have to watch him, didi. A-Huan hides everything behind his smile.”)
A-Zhan ate through a trembling lower lip, and about halfway through the meal tears began slipping down his cheeks.
Lan Qiren eased back away from the table. “A-Zhan?”
“I’m sorry, Shufu,” A-Zhan whispered. “Lan Zhurun told me not to grieve in excess.”
Some day, when A-Huan finally took over the role of zongzhu from his father, he would be able to corral the (rarely unintentional) cruelties of the elders. Lan Qiren had faith he would live to see a kinder Cloud Recesses than the one his nephew would inherit. “He has misinterpreted the precept.” A-Zhan faced him, though Lan Qiren doubted he could see much past the welling grief in his eyes. “You are permitted to grieve. The rule itself is meant to prevent distracting others from their own grief by being overly expressive, like crying too loudly or making a spectacle of your mourning.”
Li Linxia’s words in his mouth from the day she’d come upon him grieving his own mother, early into the courtship between her and Qingheng-jun. He had not wanted to listen at the time. It had been years before he wanted to listen to anything she said. But despite not wanting to listen, he’d done so anyway.
A-Zhan buried his face in his hands and burst into sobs, barely managing to choke out, “I miss A-Niang.”
A-Huan reached for his brother and tucked him into his arms, looking at Lan Qiren pleadingly, as though Lan Qiren could bandage a soul as easily as a burn. He wished he could. All he could do was kneel down beside them and offer them solid support to brace the weight of their sorrow.
Lan Qiren stayed up well past nine that evening, after seeing the boys to bed.
It felt as though he was waiting. For his brother to call, perhaps, in search of the boys. If so, he suspected he would be waiting forever.
Rather than sit uselessly in the dark, he tapped through a few emails, his inbox substantially backlogged with the last week of events.
Two in particular caught his eye:
To: “Lan Qiren” ([email protected])
From: “Office of the Dean, University of Gusu” ([email protected])
Subject: RE: ApplicationLan Qiren,
Thank you for demonstrating your interest in the position of Instructor. While we do not currently have an opening in any relevant departments, we anticipate such a position becoming available eventually and would be pleased to offer conditionally, provided there are no stronger applicants at the time of availability. In the meantime, we are pleased to allow you to continue in your current capacity as a researcher provided you continue to publish any findings under our local press.
Best,
Lan Fansheng
Assistant Academic Coordinator, Office of the Dean, University of Gusu
And, then,
To: “Lan Qiren” ([email protected])
From: “Office of the Dean, Yiling University” ([email protected])
Subject: Formal Offer, Faculty of Cultivation
Attachments: OfferLetter.pdf, StaffBenefitsandCompensation.pdf, StaffHousingProposal.pdfLan Qiren,
We are beyond excited you took the time to meet with me today! I would like to formally offer you a position with our new Faculty of Cultivation. I’ve attached a number of documents for your review in hopes of providing some insight as to what you can expect from us. As you know, we will be using the next year to discuss a full curriculum proposal with the intent to open registration to students for the next academic year, and I hope you’ll consider joining us.
As discussed during our meeting, staff compensation includes housing, and we’ve made sure to include the listing details of several single- and family-dwellings we currently have available.
We’re happy to discuss any questions or concerns you may have. Our first full Faculty Meeting is slated to take place the first week of September, and we sincerely hope to see you there.
All the best,
Gao Hong,
Head of the Faculty of Cultivation, Yiling University
In the end, the decision was as easy as he’d indicated to Li Linxia during their last conversation.
The next morning, after dropping the boys off with their tutor, he made his way across Cloud Recesses to his brother’s office. He kept his shoulders squared and tried not to grind his teeth in preparation for what he knew would not be a pleasant conversation. The feeling was not unsimilar to the last time he’d gone on a solo night hunt.
His brother’s secretary did not keep him waiting long. The privileges of relation, he supposed, but one he’d take advantage of if it meant addressing this sooner rather than later.
Qingheng-jun—Lan Qiren found it impossible to look at the man before him and see an elder brother—barely spared him a glance upwards.
"Xiongzhang," he greeted stiffly.
"Qiren. Give me a moment, will you." He absently waved to the seat across from him, his attention flitting back and forth between his phone and his laptop.
He looked up a quarter of an hour later, blinking in surprise when he noticed Lan Qiren seated before him. "Oh. Yes. What did you need?"
"I've come to tell you I have accepted a position at Yiling University."
Qingheng-jun's attention drifted back to his phone. "Not very prestigious is it? I thought for sure you'd chase after a position at UGusu. Considering all the money we've donated over the years, it should have been a guarantee."
Lan Qiren tried (failed) not to rankle at the thought of his achievements coming secondary to financial considerations. "I was tentatively offered a position, but without a clear timeline or expectations."
"Mn. Why not wait it out? if you're already bored with your little projects I'm sure we can find something for you to do here."
"I'm sure," he said dryly. "I am taking the professorship. I am also taking the boys."
"Your fellow researchers?" Qingheng-jun clarified absently, his attention now wholly back on his devices, Lan Qiren presumably having lost his interest now he'd delivered his news.
"A-Huan and A-Zhan."
Finally, Qingheng-jun looked up. Their eyes met, his brother's dangerous in their neutrality. "Are you.”
"Yes. They need to be raised somewhere where they will not suffer from either neglect or the influence of tutors who place the title before the children."
Qingheng-jun smiled humourlessly. "Why do I detect some of my late wife's rhetoric in that turn of phrase?"
“Because she was correct. I did not take her at face value before now, but finding that you’ve left A-Huan to care for A-Zhan this past week proves her point. When was the last time you were home? Because I confirmed the boys were left on their own for days.”
“Nothing in the grand scheme of our longevity.” Qingheng-jun did not roll his eyes, though the subtle twitch of his brow suggested he’d only managed out of long-held habits. “A-Huan is more than capable of caring for his younger brother.”
“Capable, yes. But it should not be asked of him when he is still young and grieving his mother. Requiring him to be the sole caregiver for A-Zhan is unfair and places a burden on him to which he cannot consent at his age.”
“I’d hardly call him the primary caregiver,” Qingheng-jun said. “And he’ll have space enough to himself once he moves into the dormitories.”
“Which you intend to happen almost immediately, I presume.”
He smiled condescendingly. “You worry too much, didi.”
The words chilled him to the bone, but he muscled through his initial reaction to keep his voice level. “You do not love them.” Qingheng-jun neither confirmed nor denied it, which felt a confirmation all on its own. “I do.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Lan Qiren’s fist clenched at his side. He caught his brother’s eyes. Stared. Seconds ticked over to a full minute, neither of them looking away.
Finally, Qingheng-jun shook his head. “You will be required to return with them for all festivals or events at which they will be expected by the elders.”
Lan Qiren betrayed not a hint of relief. He could not allow his brother to view this as Lan Qiren’s victory, or his pride would force him to return to the silent field of battle. Lan Qiren had to make sure he saw this as a benevolent concession; the only way to do it was through compromise. “Gladly. I will not allow my own duties to GusuLan go unattended.”
“Yes, I take that for granted. If you prove unable to balance those with this spontaneous desire to become a parent, we would of course revisit this agreement.” He squinted thoughtfully. “You’re taking accountability for their educational needs as well?”
“Yiling has schools which offer the general cultivation stream. I will make sure they also appreciate the traditions of GusuLan.”
“I’ve no doubt.” Qingheng-jun waved a hand. “I’ll have the elders begin forwarding you Linxia’s stipend to help with their costs.”
Lan Qiren wanted to refuse, but held himself back. Such foolish pride would not be to the boys’ benefit; they could use whatever funds they received for small indulgences where appropriate, and save the rest for when they entered adulthood. His salary was more than sufficient for their needs, even before he counted in his inheritance as former heir presumptive.
“Thank you.” He stood and bowed.
He turned towards the door, called back by cool words which struck his back like a discipline whip: “You know, didi, if you actually were interested in fatherhood, you could always find a woman instead of setting your sights on my children.” Lan Qiren cast a disbelieving look over his shoulder at his brother. Qingheng-jun gave no sign he’d noticed, once again completely fixated on the screens before him. “Or perhaps you did? Have I unintentionally caused you heartbreak?”
Do not argue with your family, for it does not matter who wins. “Li Linxia was a treasured friend and sister. It demeans you both to suggest anything more.”
His brother’s mouth tightened for a single moment, but instead of addressing the comment he waved a hand to dismiss Lan Qiren from the room.
To: “Office of the Dean” ([email protected])
From: “Lan Qiren” ([email protected])
Subject: RE: Formal Offer, Faculty of Cultivation
Attachments: OfferLetter_Signed_LanQ.pdf,Gao Hong,
After careful consideration, I have decided to accept the professorship at Yiling University, and look forward to collaborating with you and other members of the department in steering the institution forward.
Please find attached my signed offer letter. As to housing, I will require one of the available family units, preferably one of the three or four bedroom flats, and would be appreciative if this could be made available within the next few weeks as I make arrangements for the relocation of myself and my family.
Best,
Lan Qiren
Chapter Text
The months between accepting the offer from Yiling University and the first morning the boys were due to start classes at their new schools flew quickly by. Countless tasks preceded their move to Yiling, no few of which involving Lan elders outraged at the change, though Lan Qiren made sure to take the brunt of their disapproval rather than let it effect the boys. He gave them space for their grief and did his best to account for the second upset of moving so soon after the loss of their mother.
By the time classes were due to start, they’d found themselves somewhat returned to their usual equilibrium. The morning of, A-Huan woke much earlier than A-Zhan and sought out Lan Qiren where he was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. He wondered, at first, if it wasn’t nerves driving his older nephew out of bed. While A-Huan had his mother’s keen sense of how to effortlessly navigate any social situation, this would be substantially different than walking into a room filled with (nominal) peers in Cloud Recesses. He’d chosen to augment his school uniform, pressed and perfect, with his ribbon and a single clip in his hair, small but elegant and befitting of his station.
“Shufu, may I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course.” Lan Qiren gestured him into what had become his usual seat at the table. “Are you worried about your first day?”
“Not mine, no.” A-Huan took a bracing breath, as though preparing for battle. “A-Zhan won’t say anything, but he’s very nervous about starting at a new school. And I think it would mean a lot to him if you walked him there. Just for the first morning,” A-Huan added quickly, “I’m happy to pick him up and drop him off. Every day. Our schools are only a few blocks apart.”
The two schools—the best ones in Yiling offering the cultivation stream—benefitted not so much from luck as proper civil placing them within two blocks of the university. Yiling had such a limited population of cultivators that keeping them all relatively close made good sense.
“A-Huan, if you dropped him off, you’d have to run to make it to your first class on time,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “And I think you mentioned some interest in some of the extracurricular activities they offer. Picking up A-Zhan would make it difficult for you to meet the commitments.”
A-Huan nodded, eyes downcast though he quickly hid his disappointment beneath an amiable smile. Lan Qiren found he rather hated the expression. “A-Zhan is more than able to walk himself to and from school if needed.”
“Ridiculous. The school I selected for A-Zhan is only a block away from the university. I’ve already arranged my schedule to ensure I’ll be able to both walk him there and pick him up at the end of the day.” Lan Qiren had some manner of orientation meeting for the new faculty. Fortunately the semester commenced for the primary and secondary schools a full week before university classes were set to begin. While it didn’t directly impact him, it did allow for a quieter campus as he settled himself in his new role.
A-Huan turned vulnerable, surprised eyes back his way. “I thought. On the days A-Niang couldn’t make it, I was always the one to pick him up.”
“I know. And I know that A-Zhan thinks the world of you for it. But it isn’t your job to raise your younger brother. It is your job to enjoy your childhood, to do well in school, to advance your foundational knowledge of cultivation, and to strengthen your golden core.” Lan Qiren stepped away from the stove and placed his hand on A-Huan’s shoulder. “I am your guardian, and I will not ask you to take on my responsibilities.”
A-Huan placed his hand atop Lan Qiren’s and squeezed. “Thank you, Shufu.”
A-Zhan joined them not long after, his own uniform carefully ordered in preparation for the day. They ate in silence, per old habits, and then tidied the kitchen. A-Huan walked with them part of the way. Before he turned down the sidewalk to his own school, he hugged A-Zhan tightly and offered Lan Qiren a heartfelt wish for a good first day.
A-Zhan walked next to him the rest of the way, fingers white-knuckling his knapsack, staring straight forward. He very carefully avoided stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk, weaving between them in such a way he occasionally brushed up against Lan Qiren’s side. When they rounded the corner and the school came into view, he did not pull away again until they reached the gates leading to the front entrance.
Children ran amok across the school grounds, backpacks and uniforms already abandoned as old friends connected after a summer away. He failed to immediately spot any other children who sported the same small stripe above their school crest on their jackets to indicate their part in the same cultivation stream as A-Zhan.
He blinked in surprise when A-Zhan reached up to grip his hand tightly, staring at the entry to his new school.
“Xiongzhang said they would be nice,” he said quietly.
“I’m sure they will be,” Lan Qiren agreed.
A-Zhan’s shoulders fell. “I’m not.”
Across the school yard, one of the teachers smiled and waved them over, dodging around several unruly pupils to meet them halfway. She had a quick, efficient manner and easily located A-Zhan on the clipboard in her hands.
“You’ll go in through door six.” She knelt down before him and showed him a map. “And your father will pick you up at the same door this afternoon.”
Lan Qiren opened his mouth to correct her, but A-Zhan merely nodded, squeezed his hand once and whispered a quick goodbye, then released it to make his way to the proper entrance.
Heart not quite tripping over itself at the budding warmth spreading through him, Lan Qiren made sure A-Zhan had found the correct place to wait before stepping back out of the yard. Once the bell rang, he quickly lost sight of him in the rush of children moving to make their way into classes, but caught one last glimpse of his trailing white ribbon before he disappeared into the school.
He walked back to the university, feet lighter than they’d been since deciding to move himself and the boys to Yiling.
He arrived at the university with time enough to find his new office and collect a cup of tea before heading to the staff lounge. The Faculty of Modern Cultivation had only five instructors, and anticipated an undergraduate class of thirty when classes commenced the following year. Small, even by Gusu standards; their last graduating class had boasted fifty at least.
"Welcome," Gao Hong said once they'd all taken their seats. A formidable woman, she had struck him at their previous interview as a person who successfully balanced both joy and discipline. In that, she reminded him very much of his mother. She had high cultivation; he guessed her to be at least forty or fifty years his senior, but her features barely betrayed a wrinkle.
Like almost everyone at the table, she'd chosen to wear more modernly styled attire, though she'd collected her hair in an elaborate side bun pinned in place with fine jade. Most cultivators restricted their traditional robes to formal meetings. Doing otherwise was typically a sign of unwarranted self-importance.
"This year will be important for us. Not only will we be collaborating on curriculum design and graduation requirements, but we will be looking for ways to attract talent—both in students and instructors. My vision is that we will eventually be regarded as equal to the established institutions." She offered Lan Qiren a brief nod. "And I am beyond pleased you have accepted the challenge alongside me."
They went through the painful exercise of introducing themselves as well as the subject(s) they would be accountable for.
One of the first to volunteer a needless plethora of information about himself, Su Minshou, had taken the seat to Lan Qiren's right, and introduced himself first as the man who had been unjustly passed over for the position Lan Qiren accepted. Unlike the rest of them, he had bedecked himself in fine robes, and preened at the attention they drew.
"...which brings me to what I'll be teaching," he said, an agonizing five minutes later. "I will be responsible for the introductory classes. Anything not requiring specialized knowledge. Though if anything changes, I would still be very interested in teaching with theory," he said, casting an imperious glance across the table. "Given it is the most fascinating of subjects."
Also the most dangerous. Demonic cultivation had once been theoretical. A whole host of disastrous experimentation had come from unscrupulous cultivators looking to 'theorize.'
Perhaps in reaction to his loquacious waste of their time, the next two instructors—talisman and array design, and martial skills, respectively—were much more brief.
When it came back around the table, the man to Lan Qiren's left offered a polite smile. Thick-framed black glasses complemented the broad set of his jaw and heavy brow.
"Wei Changze," the man greeted with a nod. "Madame Gao lured me over from the history department here at the university. I'll be responsible for history and traditions of cultivation, as well as a comportment drop in. I was raised in Lotus Pier, and I have what one might call a close understanding of the subjects.” His wry smile hid a universe.
UGusu had never bothered offering comportment; it had been an unwritten rule that anyone entering the Faculty would have some background knowledge of how to present themselves in front of other cultivators. From style to manners, the way a cultivator balanced themselves on the thin line between modern sensibilities and the expectations with tradition were considered to be universally understood. While such understanding worked in favour of those raised in the larger sects, rogue cultivators, members of smaller sects, or even those interested in the academics of cultivation tended to be left struggling under the weight of frequent unintended faux pas.
With such subjects under his belt, Lan Qiren wondered whether Wei Changze might be a cultivator at all. It would be abhorrently rude to ask; much like inquiring after the particulars of someone's income. Everyone else in the department, however, taught at least one practicable subject. History and comportment, while deeply meaningful, could be taught by someone lacking a golden core.
Lan Qiren was the last to speak. "Lan Qiren. Theory."
A hush swept across the table, at least one pair of eyes turning enviously his way. His name, perhaps, or the prestige of his area of focus. In deference to his research, he would only teach two classes during the year: one with whatever senior students they managed to coax into transferring in and one with newer undergraduates looking to round out their understanding. The former group he hoped to guide towards a graduate program. The latter he hoped to prevent from blowing themselves up.
"Thank you, everyone." Gao Hong gestured to the thick folders in front of them. "There is a brief outline of what all of you will need to submit for approval. While I anticipate we will only have secondary graduates as our first students, I would like a treatment from everyone on potential advanced classes as well. We have a full year of planning and decisions ahead, which is the first step in succeeding. Feel free to remain here if you'd like to collaborate—" Su Minshou swung around to look at Lan Qiren "—or you have all been assigned offices on this floor of the building."
Once she dismissed the meeting, Lan Qiren studiously avoided Su Minshou's gaze and collected his things to retreat back to his own space. Fortunately, formative years spent in Cloud Recesses had helped him to master the art of quickly escaping from uncomfortable social situations without relying on running.
Hopefully not a sign of unnecessary pandering, Gao Hong assigned Lan Qiren a corner office at the end of the hall. The door to the adjacent office had already been covered in notes taped to the wood or poked into a combination pinboard-whiteboard, which had office hours written in a neat hand. Lan Qiren spared it a glance.
“I’m teaching three classes this year,” came the throaty voice from behind him. Wei Changze joined him and smiled indulgently at the academic graffiti covering his door before picking off the notes and tucking them away.
It sounded like an unreasonable workload for a single person; how would he manage to cobble together his contributions to the faculty while managing students?
“History?” Lan Qiren ventured.
Wei Changze nodded. “Mostly general survey courses, but I also have a senior seminar on the evolution of opera.” He slid a glance Lan Qiren’s way. “I thought I might offer you a friendly warning.”
Lan Qiren frowned. In his experience ‘friendly warnings’ were generally the latter without truly being the former. “What?”
“I’ve noticed that our friend Su Minshou tends to show himself into others’ spaces without waiting to be invited. Given his decided interest in theory, you may want to lock your door in case he decides to take such liberties.”
Ah. A truly friendly warning. “Thank you.”
Wei Changze smiled and the two of them showed themselves into their respective offices without further comment, locking their doors behind them.
Per his agreement with Gao Hong, Lan Qiren spent his first days at Yiling University deciding upon a schedule that would allow him to both further his research and lay the groundwork for his portion of the curriculum. Some of it involved booking time in the woefully under equipped campus labs—ones with working flame hoods in case of unforeseen complications. His specialization involved the restoration of aging, broken and damaged arrays, and how they could be even more powerful than freshly-laid lines. One might call it ‘persnickety’ in a moment of generosity. He had more than once, (silently), used much stronger language.
Shortly after lunch, his first day of his second week on campus, he looked up owlishly at the unexpected knock on his door.
He answered expecting Gao Hong and prepared to discuss his progress. Instead he found Wei Changze on the other side.
“Can I help you?” he asked, immediately disliking how defensive his voice sounded. His default, despite all best intentions, tended towards going on the offense immediately in hopes his time would not be wasted. It felt unkind, when Wei Changze had done nothing to suggest he had any intention of doing so.
“I noticed your door has only opened once or twice since your arrival,” Wei Changze said. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I thought I might show you where to buy the best coffee and tea, in case you find yourself in need of better offerings than what’s available in the staff lounge.”
Lan Qiren cast a look over his shoulder. He’d made decent progress on mapping out the next ten months, sketching in his research commitments and calendarizing administrative responsibilities. Honestly, a decent cup of tea would not go amiss.
He nodded and followed Wei Changze down the hall and out the door. They’d had a few casual conversations when encountering one another in the hallway. In the first week of classes, Wei Changze proved himself acceptable company. Neither insisting on his own intelligence nor falsely denigrating it. He’d also provided Lan Qiren with some insight about Yiling in general and the University in particular.
“My family and I are also transplants,” he told Lan Qiren during their amble across campus. “Though from Yunmeng. We moved here just over a year ago.”
He’d used the time well, apparently, and proved well-versed in the area and knowledgeable about several points of interest. Lan Qiren privately thought his nephews might enjoy a trip to the science museum he’d recommended across town.
Their travels took them off campus and over two blocks before coming to a halt inside a small cafe which offered a resplendence of unnecessarily fussy coffee, an obscene number of tea blends, and, thankfully for his nerves, simple jasmine tea.
“I’m glad you joined us for theory,” Wei Changze said as they meandered back towards the university.
“The position suited my needs,” Lan Qiren said.
(“Gentle, didi,” Li Linxia would have chided. “You are a kind soul, take the time to offer a kind response instead of grumbling.”)
“I am pleased to be able to continue with my research.”
“Yes, I can’t imagine our first cohort of students will have the necessary grasp on the fundamentals to begin theorizing,” Wei Changze chuckled, unaffected by the original brusque reply. “I assume the majority of your next few months will be spent trying to figure out how to introduce the concept of theory without encouraging acts of unintentionally heresy.”
“Or intentional ones.”
Wei Changze laughed. A short, uncommitted chuckle, but not one Lan Qiren had suspected. He had never been considered a ‘funny’ person, save in moments of condescension from the Lan elders. Having someone laugh with him instead of at him was refreshing.
They passed back onto campus, and towards the central quad which loosely connected the buildings.
“Wei-laoshi!”
Wei Changze paused in step and turned. The student who’d hailed him, a young woman with hair down past her waist despite the high ponytail trying to contain it, rushed up when she saw she’d caught his attention.
“Wei-laoshi, thank you for stopping.” She spared barely a breath. “I’ve decided on my topic for my semester research project.”
Lan Qiren fell back to sip his tea and admire the beautiful garden in the middle of the quad, giving them some sense of privacy.
They paused in step several moments later when Wei Changze turned a concerned eye on his student.
"Is that truly what you want to write about?"
"Um, well, no, but at least it’s a topic everyone understands.”
"Decisions made to appease others are never as satisfying as the ones we make for ourselves." He smiled kindly at her. "I encourage you to write on a topic in which you have true investment. It will end up being a better paper."
"No one would want to read about the things I'm interested in."
"I would. And given it's a project I've assigned, you may want to bear that in mind." He leaned in just slightly, as though offering a confidence. "Between us, if I have to read one more paper on an ‘appealing’ topic, I may give up teaching altogether."
She finally laughed. "Is that why you're abandoning us for the new faculty, laoshi?"
"Absolutely. I can't wait to see what sort of 'hot takes' come up when cultivation is involved."
She winced and laughed, though the sound seemed distinctly more pitying. "Sure thing, laoshi. I'll see you in class."
She walked off towards the Students' Union building, her steps lighter than before.
"I imagine you will be missed in the Arts and Humanities stream," Lan Qiren commented as they continued on towards their offices.
"You flatter me." Lan Qiren opened his mouth to object, but Wei Changze soldiered on. "This is only my second year teaching. Not enough time to create much of an impression."
Even during a limited student interaction Lan Qiren observed the opposite, but did not want to push the point for fear of inviting more accusations of flattery. If he wanted to impress Wei Changze, he would do so with his competence and nothing more.
"Thank you again for the tea," he said once they reached their shared corridor.
"My pleasure. I'm happy to bother you anytime I notice your door has been closed for more than two days consecutively."
Lan Qiren felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Not a smile, certainly, but something pleasant nevertheless. "If you feel you need company."
Wei Changze beamed, warm like honey, and slipped back through his door.
Lan Qiren and his nephew quickly fell into a new routine. Lan Qiren would walk A-Zhan to school and wait until the bell rang before trundling away alongside the small crowd of parents at the fence. He’d walk back to the University, work on the course outline for his first proposed subject—Progressive Recreation of Culturally Significant Talismans, which Wei Changze laughingly suggested needed a better title—and then return to his research until Wei Changze appeared at his door to take him to the faculty lounge for lunch. He’d then use the remainder of the afternoon to eke out a few words on his newest publication. He’d pick up A-Zhan from school and walk home to prepare dinner and supervise A-Zhan’s guqin practice. A-Huan would arrive home an hour later, after any one of various extracurricular activities, and they’d eat. Then homework, bedtime for the boys and a few more minutes of writing.
Domestic and comfortable—words Lan Qiren hadn’t much experience with since the death of his parents. They spent the first few weekends in town exploring Yiling, though in a sedate manner.
That morning, A-Zhan approached him with a piece of paper and a trepidatious cast to his features.
“A-Zhan?”
“I would like to go to the school grounds today,” he said.
“Oh? Is there something there in particular you’d like to do?” Lan Qiren did not truck with this habit of children idly ‘hanging out’ for want of occupation.
Instead of answering, A-Zhan handed over the paper.
- Exrorsize
- Sun
- Fresh air
-
Funnormal
“…Have the other students suggested you’re not normal?”
A-Zhan shrugged—or his equivalent thereof, which involved the minutest tilt of his shoulders— and then looked abruptly away.
A-Huan shot a worried look Lan Qiren’s way. Lan Qiren understood the marrow-deep unpleasantness of being bullied by his peers. He had always been too serious, too rigid, too unwilling to bend for fear of breaking open and displaying his weaknesses. A-Huan, like his mother, conducted himself with smiles and charm and dependable likeability. From a young age, A-Zhan proved much more inclined towards quiet and solitude. Lan Qiren would need to make every effort to ensure his second nephew did not isolate himself, as Lan Qiren still occasionally found himself doing to the present day.
When it became obvious A-Zhan didn’t want to answer, Lan Qiren nodded to himself. “I’m sure we can accommodate an excursion to the park outside your school.”
Once A-Zhan had gone to change into more play-appropriate attire, A-Huan turned to Lan Qiren. “I think some of the boys at school are bothering him.”
Lan Qiren’s eyebrow twitched up. “You think or you know?”
A-Huan frowned. “I know. He’s mentioned one or two of them, but every time I ask he shuts down. Maybe I should come along?”
“I believe you have plans with your new friends, don’t you?” A-Huan nodded reluctantly. He’d never had a problem making friends, his skill a credit to Li Linxia’s legacy. He certainly wouldn’t credit it to his brother. While Qingheng-jun was charming and persuasive, he rarely used such talents for anything beyond forging strategically professional connections. “Keep them. I am quite capable of supervising A-Zhan and making sure he isn’t harassed by his peers.”
The tension eased out of A-Huan’s shoulders. “Thank you, Shufu.”
They made their way to the park outside of A-Zhan’s school, a field with two soccer nets backing onto a tarmac basketball court. The grounds were available during the weekends, thankfully, and a hob of boys was already present and kicking a soccer ball around the small patch of green. A-Zhan stiffened at his side.
“A-Zhan?”
“Nothing.” A-Zhan straightened his shoulders and braced himself as though preparing to go into battle. While Lan Qiren went to take a seat on a bench beneath an immature banyan tree, his nephew silently approached the boys and stood at the side of the field, watching and waiting to be called over. Across the park, a small tangle of women chatted easily, completely ignoring their congregated spawn.
Lan Qiren opened the book he’d brought along to pass the time, but glanced over the top of the page to check on A-Zhan so many times it quickly became more like a prop to help him blend in than content he had any hope of absorbing.
Eventually, the other boys noticed A-Zhan and began nudging one another in a way that suggested trouble. A-Zhan ignored them, his gaze flitting across the area, though Lan Qiren couldn’t imagine what he might be looking for.
“Lan Wangji,” one of them said, approaching with a smarmy smirk Lan Qiren recognized from the faces of the children he’d encountered during his own unfortunately awkward youth. “I thought you’d said we were unqualified to play with you.”
A-Zhan ignored him, still scanning the greenspace for… something.
“Don’t ignore me,” the boy hissed. A-Zhan continued to do just that. “You’re such a snob. What makes you think you’re better than me?”
“Everything I’ve noticed,” A-Zhan finally replied.
The boy’s face twisted in fury and he shoved the soccer ball at one of his friends to free his hands. He pushed A-Zhan roughly, knocking him to the ground. Lan Qiren stood, already primed to involve himself.
Before he could, a small tornado given human form swept in from the side gate and ploughed into the bully. The boys hit the ground together, a flurry of tiny fists and shouting which immediately drew the fluttering attention from the other (until that moment disinterested) parents.
One woman broke away from her peers, tearing across the field clucking like an upset hen. She beat Lan Qiren there by moments and grabbed the new arrival by the back of his sweater, pulling him off what was presumably her child.
“You little hooligan,” she snapped.
The boy spit like a kitten hanging from his mother’s maw, growling at the boy, still on the ground and glaring up at him with a sneer. “You’re a piece of shit Su Minshan!”
The woman shook him. “How dare you?!”
“Funny,” said a new voice behind Lan Qiren. He turned. “You didn’t seem to have a problem when it was your son knocking kids over. Put him down. Now.”
The clucking mother gasped and dropped him like her hand was on fire. “A-Shan was only being a bit rough. He decided to escalate. Though I don’t know what else I expected from your son, Xiao Jingfei.”
Xiao Jingfei, presumably, did not roll her eyes, though something about her expression suggested she dearly wanted to. Instead of scampering back to her, her son ran over to A-Zhan, sweeping in before Lan Qiren could to help him to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the ground, stunned and silent.
“Come on, Lan Zhan.” He pulled A-Zhan to his feet and dusted him off which he allowed, to Lan Qiren’s shock, without protest.
“What are you going to do about this?” Su Minshan’s mother demanded.
Xiao Jingfei blinked. “About what? It seems to me you should be the one telling your son to apologize.”
“Apologize?! What an outrage. My son has done nothing to merit offering any sort of apology.”
Xiao Jingfei looked at her son, who’d busied himself with grabbing A-Zhan’s hand and glowering at Su Minshan. “Well?”
“He’s been mean to Lan Zhan since the year started,” the boy stated. “He said Lan Zhan must’ve gotten kicked out of Gusu and was lying about being the second sect heir.”
The other mother sniffed. “Well, obviously he’s not going to stay silent about someone trying to make themselves out to be so much better. Liars,” she snapped with a glare A-Zhan’s way, “Should not be allowed to spread falsehoods.”
“Madam,” Lan Qiren said, trying to keep his temper and not fling the book in his hand towards her head, “I assure you my nephew does not lie.”
He saw the full weight of the statement hit the woman like a bolt of lightning and her quick assessment of him—everything from the fine cut of his clothes to the ribbon seated on his brow. Immediately her expression shifted from outraged to obsequious and she offered Lan Qiren a sweet smile.
“Our mistake, certainly. But surely Lan-gongzi will agree that boys will be boys,” she said.
“Boys will be held accountable for their actions,” Xiao Jingfei corrected.
“Show some respect,” the mother snapped. “No wonder your child has such terrible manners.”
Xiao Jingfei muttered under her breath. While Lan Qiren didn’t hear it clearly, he suspected the words were ‘for fuck’s sake.’ He couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment, if not the profanity.
Taking it as a victory when Xiao Jingfei didn’t readdress her, the mother stroked her son’s head fondly. “A-Shan, why don’t you invite your new friend to play soccer? I’m sure he’d love to join you.”
A-Zhan shook his head. “Came to see Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying, still holding A-Zhan’s hand, grinned bright and blinding. “Really?”
Su Minshan’s mother knelt down before A-Zhan. She reached to take his free hand, which he snapped backwards to hide at the small of his back. “Don’t be silly, I’m sure your uncle would appreciate you spending time with children on your own level.”
Xiao Jingfei snorted in amusement. “Tell me again, Yingying, where did you place in the standard tests last year?”
“First,” Wei Ying chirped. He grinned at A-Zhan. “But I’ll probably be second this year. Lan Zhan is soooo smart!”
“Hm.” Xiao Jingfei smiled with no little pride. It made her glow. “If Minshan is interested, I’m sure Yingying would be happy to review the material with him. Aren’t you trying to get him into the cultivation stream?”
“That won’t be necessary. He’ll easily make it in on his own merits, and once they’re on even footing, I’m sure he’ll have no problem proving himself the superior student.” Obviously foiled, Su Minshan’s mother stood and brushed invisible dirt off her pencil skirt, all attempts at fatuous niceties fleeing in the face of Lan Qiren’s disinterest. “I assume you will discipline your child.”
“I suppose I should,” Xiao Jingfei nodded. “Yingying, only one extra scoop of jelly in your boba this afternoon.” Wei Ying pouted. “But I’ll let you earn it back if you invite Lan Zhan and his guardian.”
Wei Ying turned beseeching eyes on A-Zhan. “You should come! Mom knows the best place.”
A-Zhan looked to Lan Qiren, either for permission or hoping to be provided with an excuse to say no.
Unable to tell which one he’d prefer, Lan Qiren inclined his head. “If you’d like to join them.” In all honesty, he’d prefer to wash his hands of the entire affair, but A-Zhan did not welcome touch from anyone outside their small family of three, especially not since the death of his mother. Seeing his hand clutched in Wei Ying’s grip, making no effort to remove it, Lan Qiren shoved his personal preferences aside. He could choke back the awkwardness which accompanied his interactions with new people in a social situation. Hopefully he’d be able to come across as civil instead of dour, which his brother always pointed to being his principle problem.
The smallest ghost of a smile crossed A-Zhan’s face when he looked back at Wei Ying. “Mn.”
“Great! The best combo…”
Su Minshan and his mother, aggrieved at being ignored, made their way back to the rest of their cohort, bundled together on the other side of the field.
It finally allowed Lan Qiren to turn his full attention to Xiao Jingfei. Shorter than him by a head, she’d dressed far more appropriately for a day out than the woman picking her way across the grass in heels, in a simple sundress, flats and a light jacket. Noting his interest, she turned to officially introduce herself with a nod and smile.
“Lan Qiren,” he offered, internally wincing with the brusque manner of his address.
Seemingly unbothered, she turned back to the boys. “Do you want to go to battle over their soccer ball, or should we head right to the boba shop?”
Given he could see the top of a black and white ball peeking out from her garish purple tote bag, she seemingly meant ‘a battle’ in the sense of conquest to increase available resources. His lips twitched.
“Let’s get boba,” Wei Ying said. He squeezed A-Zhan’s hand with a smile. “I don’t think A-Zhan really likes soccer all that much anyway.”
“I would play with Wei Ying,” A-Zhan offered.
“Yeah, but not with Su Minshan,” Wei Ying said through a wrinkled nose. A-Zhan nodded solemnly in agreement. “Come on.”
Brazen enough to leave him and Xiao Jingfei behind, Wei Ying pulled A-Zhan along towards the gate, chattering amiably.
“That was exciting,” Xiao Jingfei laughed, following along at a distance Lan Qiren felt might be too wide, in no hurry to catch up. Apparently Wei Ying knew where they were going. “Sorry you and your nephew got caught up in it.”
“I assume this is not the first time your son has been involved in such fisticuffs,” Lan Qiren asked. Should he be concerned? He hoped A-Zhan knew well enough not to involve himself with children who relied on violence as a first response, but from what he’d gathered this was hardly a ‘first’ in any sense of the word.
Xiao Jingfei shook her head, smiling fondly. “Yingying has a very firm sense of right and wrong, and exactly the same amount of impulse control as I did when his age, which is to say none at all. It makes for a volatile combination.”
“Hopefully such an attitude won’t rub off on A-Zhan,” Lan Qiren huffed, horrified at the idea of his nephew following an example so outside the standards to Cloud Recesses. Xiao Jingfei favoured him with a raised eyebrow and he silently cursed himself. “I only mean…” He’d only meant what he said, unfortunately. He couldn’t lie about it.
Xiao Jingfei allowed him to squirm for a moment before laughing. “Don’t worry. Now that Yingying’s laid claim, he’ll take care of the attitude. He’s got more than enough to spare.”
It was gracious of her to not take offense.
(“Look for what people mean, didi, not what they say,” Li Linxia had once told him. He’d been fifteen and reeling from a fellow disciple complimenting his sword forms one moment and then complaining to the instructor the next that he’d had the unfair advantage of private tutelage.
“Is it easy to tell the difference?” It did not seem to be. Had never seemed to be.
“Not on the surface. Make sure to look at their actions if you’re unsure. Actions will always prove truer than words.”)
Xiao Jingfei’s actions—laughing, inviting them for tea, smiling in what he believed to be a sincere manner—felt more real than the false smile and cooing words offered by the other woman back at the park, though he decided it would remain to be seen if she kept it up.
She insisted on paying for their drinks, despite his attempts to sway her. It felt inappropriate to allow her to do so, when they’d just met, but she managed to get her wallet out with incomparable speed. She tutted over what, to him, seemed a perfectly reasonable order of green tea with zero sweetness and no add-ins. She and Wei Ying got such egregiously sweet concoctions he feared for their respective stomachs.
“Don’t worry, gege, I get plenty of exercise,” she said, flexing and then laughing at the look on his face.
“Aren’t you being too familiar?” he demanded.
“Trust me when I say propriety has never gotten me anywhere.”
Wei Ying badgered A-Zhan until he had a sip, which his nephew grimaced through to Wei Ying's obvious delight, and the gleam in Xiao Jingfei's eyes suggested she wanted to see whether or not Lan Qiren had provided the model for it.
While cheered by A-Zhan making what was, to all intents and purposes, his first friend, by the end of the outing Lan Qiren decided he never wanted to see Xiao Jingfei again. She, like her son, seemed determined to express her joy with the world at an escalating volume, and inexplicably managed to find joy in everything.
No, he decided as he sipped at his own drink, he felt no pressing need to continue the acquaintance.
Decision made, it caused him great confusion when he immediately handed over his phone as soon as she asked, once there was little but dregs at the bottom of their respective cups.
She tapped away at his contacts list and then sent herself a text message. "Let’s do this again soon, gege. Yingying needs friends who balance him out."
He looked down at the new entry in his contacts list: Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿). Absurd. Lan Qiren needed to delete it at once.
She grabbed the collar of Wei Ying’s sweater and absently pulled him from his perch at the back of A-Zhan’s seat. When he squawked in protest, she merely mussed up his hair and tucked her arm around his thin shoulders. Despite his young age, he came up to her armpit and fit nicely in the welcoming curve of her embrace.
Wei Ying aimed pleading eyes A-Zhan’s way. “Next weekend?”
Lan Qiren cast a quick glance at A-Zhan, who’d lit up at the invitation. “Very well,” he agreed. He supposed he could suffer through her cheerfulness for another afternoon, though it pained him. That had to be the cause of the discomfort in his chest.
“Great. Say goodbye, Yingying.”
“‘Goodbye Yingying.’”
“Brat,” she laughed and mussed his hair again. “Fine, leave without telling your friend you enjoyed his company.”
Absolutely devastated, Wei Ying extricated himself from his mother’s arm and flew back to A-Zhan’s side, embracing him and completely oblivious to A-Zhan’s shocked widening of eyes. “Lan Zhan! I am so happy you came to the school today.” He lowered his voice and whispered something, though Lan Qiren could make out nothing save for what he thought might be ‘Su Minshan.’ “Okay?”
A-Zhan focused his attention on his mostly empty cup, silently and desperately pleased. “Okay, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying grinned and bounced back to Xiao Jingfei’s side. The two of them offered up identically merry waves and then made their way out of the shop.
Lan Qiren looked to A-Zhan, who shared with him a surprisingly sympathetic glance, considering the vast age difference between them.
They picked up A-Huan from his school where he’d been tucked in with friends playing weiqi and reviewing their already not insubstantial amount of homework. He studied A-Zhan with a careful eye and seemed cautiously pleased with whatever he observed.
“Wei Ying?” he repeated when A-Zhan quietly told him who they’d spent the afternoon with. “Isn’t that one of the boys you told me had been teasing you?”
“He said he wanted to help me smile,” A-Zhan whispered.
That evening, after seeing the boys to bed, Lan Qiren sent a text message; one of very few he’d sent since Li Linxia’s passing.
Lan Qiren: If it would work for you, we have fewer commitments on Sundays.
She replied in a gratifyingly short amount of time.
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): plans made! ill send you our address!!
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): yingying will be so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A few minutes later, his phone chirped again.
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): oh no i told him at bedtime ( ﾟД ﾟ)
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): hell be up all night now 〒_〒
Lan Qiren sighed. Was this what his life would be like now he’d extended an entry to Xiao Jingfei?
He sighed and closed his messages.
As it turned out, they did not have to wait until the following weekend before the opportunity to see Xiao Jingfei and her son presented itself once more. Now they’d met, it was impossible to avoid seeing her in the crowd of parents waiting for their children to emerge at the end of the school day. While she wasn’t a tall woman, she exuded the sort of irrepressible energy that added inches the way shoes and squared shoulders never could. And, now that she’d identified him as worthy of her notice, she zeroed in to single him out and chatted a thousand miles a minute while they waited for their children.
Now they’d become friends, Wei Ying and A-Zhan never strayed more than a foot or two away from one another, and the others in their cohort gave them a wide berth.
“Obviously,” Xiao Jingfei laughed when Lan Qiren pointed it out. “They’re the strongest little cultivators in the school. Before he met your nephew, Yingying easily outpaced all the others in his class.” She spoke not as a boast, but matter-of-factly. “I was afraid he was getting bored. Now that he has someone who can challenge him I’m surprised they haven’t staged a coup and taken over teaching the class.” She tapped her chin speculatively. “Then again, it’s early days. I guess they have time.”
It would have given them an excellent segue to discuss their own cultivation acumen—he suspected Xiao Jingfei was a cultivator, though she hadn’t yet confirmed or denied anything—but the boys arrived before either of them could broach the topic.
The Thursday before the weekend, late in the day, he received yet another in the line of endless, inane texts she frequently sent his way.
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): GEGE, can u do me a favour and pick up aying from school
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): im indisposed (;Д;)
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): and my husband is working late
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): hell be so happy for more time with azhan (●'◡'●)ﾉ♥
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): u can bring them right back here and ill make snacks!!!!!!
‘Indisposed,’ he frowned. Hopefully it wasn’t anything serious. (If he focused on that, he could overlook the ridiculous string of nonsense characters she felt the need to insert into nearly every message, not to mention the unnecessary number that came in implausibly quick succession.)
Lan Qiren: I will do so.
Lan Qiren: Please take care to watch your spelling and punctuation.
He frowned when he sent the message, wondering if she’d take him seriously. He was… unaccustomed to joking about with people beyond Li Linxia, who’d only managed to tease it out of him after years of acquaintance. Perhaps Xiao Jingfei would assume he was being officious and condescending?
Perhaps, though his entire soul writhed in pain at the possibility, he should send another message denoting “lol.”
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): Yes, laoshi!
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): I will take your lessons to heart, laoshi!
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): This student is gratduk.
Xiao Jingfei (◠‿◠✿): GRATEFUL!!!
Satisfied, Lan Qiren saved his progress and closed his laptop lid.
He paused at the door to Wei Changze’s office, surprised to see him inside. Usually Lan Qiren was the later of the two to leave on Thursdays; Wei Changze had an early class and hosted his office hours directly afterwards, leaving his afternoons largely free.
“Staying late?”
“Yes. I’ve made the terrible mistake of assigning a group project in my senior seminar.” He looked up over his glasses, seeking commiseration. Hopefully Lan Qiren’s expression was appropriately sympathetic. “I promised to meet with each group to review their progress and the only way to do so was to schedule them into the late afternoon. Hopefully we’ll be finished in time for me to make it home before sundown.”
“Well take care to get enough rest before you come in tomorrow.”
Wei Changze smiled and nodded. “I will. Thank you.”
The air had started to crisp up in anticipation of autumn. When Lan Qiren stepped out of the doors, wind pulled at the tail ends of his ribbon. He bundled his coat closer about him and started towards the primary school.
He made it just in time for the bell to ring, dozens of children spilling out the closest door. When he didn’t immediately spot either A-Zhan—reliably one of the first out—he frowned. When the last of their class streamed out, it deepend.
The two boys, A-Zhan and Wei Ying, finally emerged ten minutes later. Wei Ying spoke with furious speed, sketching something out with his hands. A-Zhan looked unconvinced.
“Sorry we are late, Shufu,” A-Zhan said. “Wei Ying needed to serve detention.”
Lan Qiren fought down the knee jerk reaction: that any child prone to disciplinary action was not a fit companion for his nephew. Given A-Zhan’s typical challenge with making friends, and his firsthand experience with Wei Ying’s refusal to back down in the face of injustice, he could hold his tongue for now. He imagined Li Linxa would be proud of him for it.
“Dare I ask why?” Should he be on the lookout for the horrible Su boy and his mother?
Wei Ying sighed with vehemence enough to shake his entire body. “The teacher was wrong.”
“Laoshi said he would look into it and find the right answer,” A-Zhan said. He sounded resigned; it had probably already been an oft-repeated verse between them.
“He didn’t need to look into it, I knew the right answer.”
If Lan Qiren encountered such an attitude from a student, he’d have reacted with more than detention. “And the point of contention?”
Wei Ying launched into it while steering them out of the school grounds, A-Zhan close at his side. “We’re starting talisman work, which is great except that it’s all baby talismans that I already know. He was trying to show the class how to draw one that would light a fire, but he got one of the characters in the wrong place and when I tried to tell him it was wrong he wouldn’t believe me and so I thought I’d just draw it myself and show him and that’s when I got detention. Just for being right!”
“You set your desk on fire,” A-Zhan said.
Lan Qiren paused in step, though neither of the boys noticed.
“Only a little.”
Wei Ying and his family lived in a small, single-family home several blocks away from the university campus, facing the river. When they arrived, Wei Ying led them in with a shouted greeting towards the front room.
He paused after kicking off his shoes.
“Mama hurt her ribs at work, so if you hug her, you have to be super careful,” he informed them.
A-Zhan nodded gravely and followed him through to a small sitting room just off the kitchen. Xiao Jingfei had propped herself up in an overstuffed armchair, a pillow in place to brace her left side. Nevertheless, she still greeted them all with a huge smile.
“How was everyone’s day?” she asked. She waved Lan Qiren to a seat across from hers. As promised, she’d arranged a generosity of snacks on the low table between them, though made no move to reach for any herself.
“I got into another argument with laoshi,” Wei Ying said, sounding even more put-upon than he had when Lan Qiren had first picked them up.
“As long as you didn’t set anything on fire, healthy debate is probably fine.”
Looking immediately shifty, Wei Ying grabbed a bowl of lataio in one hand and A-Zhan’s wrist in the other. “Come and see my room, Lan Zhan!”
They escaped to the sound of Xiao Jingfei’s chuckle.
“What happened?” Lan Qiren asked the moment they were gone.
Xiao Jingfei waved him off. “Nothing serious, gege. I’ll be fine again by the weekend. Just a little over-exertion.”
Satisfied, he sat back. “Then allow me to tell you what Wei Ying shared after school.”
After a few hearty guffaws, Xiao Jingfei called Wei Ying into the room to remind him about appropriate responses to disputes with authority, which in her opinion only included setting fires in extrema. While Lan Qiren could list numerous GusuLan disciplines against such things, the only one that readily came to mind was one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two: do not permit the dissemination of wrongful facts.
A-Zhan woke up even earlier on Sunday than usual. He sat through meditation which, for the first time, he seemed to be doing out of a sense of annoyed obligation rather than because he really wanted to spend time in quiet reflection. He ate breakfast, dressed, and cleaned his room with such speed Lan Qiren felt as though he might blink and find him on the other side of their home.
Then, because A-Zhan was not the type of child to nag, he simply sat down near the door to Wait.
They’d agreed on a mid-morning playdate, which meant A-Zhan only had a short while longer before they left, first to drop A-Huan off at a soccer pitch where he and his friends had arranged for a game, and then finally back to Wei Ying’s home. They arrived approximately fifteen minutes ahead of time, but A-Zhan looked as though he might rebel if required to circle the block once or twice to avoid arriving early.
When they knocked, Wei Ying answered the door, with a wholly unexpected person hovering behind him.
“Lan Qiren,” Wei Changze greeted with a pleased, if surprised, smile. He stepped back to allow Wei Ying to drag A-Zhan inside. “When Xiao-Fei told me she’d made a new friend, I’d no idea she meant yourself.”
He invited Lan Qiren inside and offered to make tea.
“Xiao Jingfei is not here?” Lan Qiren asked.
“Ah, no. She was called in to deal with a situation at work.”
Lan Qiren nodded. “She’s recovered from her injuries, then?”
Wei Changze frowned, but neither confirmed nor denied it, a pensive set to the sides of his mouth Lan Qiren did not care for, but did not feel comfortable pursuing. In lieu of responding, he set them down at the table with a tea service between them.
“I feel I should have known you two were married,” Lan Qiren commented after a moment. Indeed, how likely was it for him to have found two unconnected persons whose company he did not disdain? It made sense for them to be together. And if, in a single corner of his mind, he regretted that they were both committed to one another, it was one easily shunted aside in favour of being pleased that they’d extended him their friendship at all.
The sound of a yell and loud bang interrupted their tea before either of them had a chance for a single sip.
Wei Changze sighed, smiled, then quickly hid the smile under an unexpectedly stern expression. “I’ll go check on them.”
Lan Qiren left him to it, until the smoke alarm went off a moment later.
They received an invitation to dinner the following weekend. Lan Qiren accepted, of course. Not only because of the engaging adult company, but to prevent A-Zhan from staging a mutiny should he refuse.
The three of them made their way over together, A-Zhan walking slightly faster than Lan Qiren and A-Huan and casting the occasional, irritated look over his shoulder when they did not keep pace.
“I’m glad of this, Shufu,” A-Huan mentioned when A-Zhan had crossed a street with a walk signal and left A-Huan and Lan Qiren behind. He waited on the other side of the road, glaring at them for dawdling.
“Of what?”
A-Huan pursed his lips. “When A-Niang died, I worried you would be lonely.” He squared his shoulders at Lan Qiren’s raised brow. “She always said you were her best friend.”
Lan Qiren took a moment to reflect. While A-Huan was well into his teenage years, it felt unfair to speak to him as a grown up. Part of the reason they’d left Gusu was because the sect had been determined to prematurely force him into adulthood. Yet he deserved to hear memories of his mother.
“I was not kind to her in the beginning,” he finally admitted. “I was only a bit older than you when she married your father, and I conducted myself very poorly.” It had been resentment, in part, and his own struggles with the awkwardness of his teenage years. He’d looked at her kindness as condescension, and made no attempt to welcome her into the family.
“However you were at the beginning, I know she loved you very much,” A-Huan told him. The light changed and they crossed to A-Zhan. “I’m glad you’ve made new friends.”
At dinner, comprised of a variety of dishes seasoned with a distinctly Yunmeng flair alongside blander fare that tasted a shade off those served in Gusu—as though recipes had been hastily recreated from online sources—Lan Qiren sat back and watched. He watched Wei Ying stick his fingers into his mother’s wine cup for a small taste and Xiao Jingfei swat him in response. He watched when A-Huan claimed some of Wei Changze’s time after dinner for assistance with an upcoming history assignment. He watched A-Zhan and Wei Ying and their surprisingly easy friendship, forged despite the mostly one-sided conversation. He watched, and he felt as though his sister would be proud.
He joined Xiao Jingfei in the kitchen after dinner to assist with the washing. A-Huan was still deep in conversation with Wei Changze, and Wei Ying and A-Zhan had disappeared to parts unknown.
“You were very quiet during dinner, gege,” she commented, passing him a plate to dry.
He noticed a spot on it and handed it back for a second wash. “‘Do not speak during meals,” he quoted.
“Having seen all the spices A-Chang didn’t put in your dinner, I can only imagine that’s because you’d otherwise spend the whole time complaining about the food,” Xiao Jingfei laughed. She passed him the dish a second time. He passed it right back, and considered offering to do the washing while she dried. From the Look she gave him, he decided upon discretion as the better part of valour.
“I vowed to raise the boys in the standards Cloud Recesses demanded,” he told her.
Xiao Jingfei shuddered. “Too many rules, gege. How is anyone supposed to have any fun?”
Strangely enough, he thought as he handed the dish back yet again why could she not see the spot in the top corner?!, for one of the first times in his life, he couldn’t really say he wasn’t having fun.
Chapter Text
It took three full months of settling into their new home and routines before Lan Qiren finally decided the time had come to officially transfer his night hunting licenses to Yiling. While he didn’t anticipate being able to answer many of the calls for aid when he had the boys to consider, maintaining his licenses would be far less troublesome than allowing them to expire and going through the needlessly bureaucratic process of having them reissued.
And if the worse happened and his presence was called for, he liked having the option to involve himself without fear of legal reprisals.
The Yiling Licensing Office seemed to be the primary location for civilians and cultivators alike, with a line up already out the door when Lan Qiren arrived first thing in the morning. While he feared for an interminable wait—would he even be able to have his case resolved before needing to leave to pick up A-Zhan from school?—he found himself directed through almost indecipherable signage to a specialty line for cultivators. Being the only one in queue, he promptly found himself in the tight quarters of the administrator, a nasally-voiced woman who introduced herself so quickly Lan Qiren didn’t catch her name.
“It’s so nice to have a sect cultivator back in our district,” she said, poring over the paperwork to transfer his licenses from Gusu. “There’s only one other fully licensed cultivator in the region—” How could there be only one fully licensed cultivator in a place in such close proximity to the Burial Mounds? “—and between you and I, I think she’s coming close to burning out.” Before Lan Qiren could wave off the gossip, she continued. “Then again, I’m not sure what else you can expect from rogue cultivators. My grandson lives in Lanling and he tells me that they never have to depend on cultivators without proper sect training.”
Yes, Lan Qiren almost said, because Jin-zongzhu had all but forbidden non-sect cultivators from night hunting in Lanling, making the cost for licensing so ridiculous that no one save members of LanlingJin could afford the privilege of protecting the weak. The result being endless complaints when the Jin sect cultivators relied too heavily on elimination instead of the gentler means of settling spirits. If they ‘quickly’ dealt with situations it likely meant they favoured expediency over decency.
It took him a moment to realize she was still speaking, and he guiltily returned his full attention to her.
“…-ren, and while I’m sure she considers herself notable, I’ve never seen anything special from her.”
Lan Qiren blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say the only fully licensed cultivator in the area is Cangse Sanren?”
“Unfortunately. Most of the other cultivators in Yiling only have their graduated licensing and require supervision for anything challenging. Why? Have you heard of her?” The woman’s eyes gleamed, not unlike a predator in anticipation of easy prey. She leaned forward in hopes of inviting his confidence through her body language. “I hear she was exiled from Yunmeng and she’s the one responsible for Jiang-zongzhu pulling his support from Yiling.”
“I am merely familiar with the name. She’s one of the disciples of Baoshan Sanren. I can assure you if she’s servicing this region, alone, describing her as ‘burning out’ or being in any way unreliable is disingenuous at best and spiteful at worst.”
“Oh.” The woman peered down at his papers with an irritated sniff. “You know, now that I look at these, there seems to be a few missing items that will prevent me from transferring your licenses right away. I’ll have to reach out to our counterparts in Gusu. There may be some delay in the meanwhile.” She leaned across the desk. “You won’t be able to night hunt in this area until they’ve transferred and will incur fines if you do.”
“I am familiar with the licensing ordinances,” he gritted out. “You appreciate any delay will ultimately be to the detriment of the current cultivators and citizens of Yiling?”
“Well I’m sure that being so ‘renowned,’ Cangse Sanren won’t have a problem if she needs to wait a bit longer for you to show her how to do things properly.” She smiled with false sweetness. “If that’s all?”
“Yes.” He didn’t thank her, a small discourtesy which nevertheless felt validating in face of her pinch-lipped smirk. “Good day.”
His bad mood followed him back to the University, and while he tried not to take it out on any of his peers, he felt he’d likely been more brusque than usual. The confirmation of which came in the form of Wei Changze, who appeared only moments after Lan Qiren finally settled back in his office.
“I hear you’re having a challenging day,” he said kindly.
“What makes you think so?” Lan Qiren demanded, immediately wincing when he heard the abrasive tone in his voice.
Thankfully, Wei Changze merely chuckled. “I came across the administrator from the Arts Faculty crying in the bathroom after your meeting to discuss cross-discipline credits. A joke,” he assured Lan Qiren upon seeing his horrified expression. “A poor one. I’m sorry. You are far too professional to make anyone cry unintentionally.”
“Unintentionally,” Lan Qiren repeated.
“I have little doubt you’d put someone in their place when deserving of it.” He placed a takeout cup from one of the on-campus cafes on his desk. “I had to guess what you might like but based on what Xiao-Fei tells me about your boba order, I am willing to bet you have a secret sweet tooth.”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Qiren muttered. He sipped at the drink, relieved to find the coffee pleasantly strong, with the barest touch of a floral sweetness he privately admitted was not disagreeable. “Did you come here to ply my poor mood with coffee?” He wished he could tell Wei Changze about his interaction with the horrible woman at the licensing office, sure the other man would appreciate what had set him on edge.
“No, though it did give me a pleasant excuse.” He took the seat across from Lan Qiren. “Xiao-Fei has to go out of town this weekend, and I was wondering if you and the boys might like to join A-Ying and I for dinner.”
Of all the cursed luck; there was a Discussion Conference in Qishan he was obliged to attend. “Unfortunately, I also have inescapable commitments involving my brother.” While he’d generally prefer to avoid having to take the boys along, especially as far as Qishan, the agreement between himself and Qingheng-jun demanded their presence.
“Ah. Unfortunate indeed. We’ll have to make plans when you return.”
Lan Qiren nodded and took another sip of coffee. The caffeine, or perhaps the company, already eased away the lingering bitter aftertaste of his dealings with the licensing official.
“Care to tell me the problem?” Wei Changze asked with a kind smile.
Such expressions did not come easily to Lan Qiren and thus he was rarely offered them in turn, his conversation partners generally deciding that his inability to articulate himself in a soft manner meant he also didn’t appreciate it himself. Given that he couldn’t find a way to express his dislike of such assumptions without coming across as childish, he never bothered correcting anyone.
“Only that I am constantly baffled by the pettiness of my fellow humans.”
“Ah. Can I assume this has to do with Su Minshou?”
“Surprisingly not. Unfortunately, he is not the only such individual with whom I’ve needed to cross paths.” It was on the tip of his tongue to elaborate; Wei Ying was in the cultivation stream with A-Zhan, after all, and surely Wei Changze would appreciate the irritation of having to deal with the administrative nightmares of having his licenses transferred. This far into their acquaintance, however, it felt too awkward to bring up the subject of cultivation now. He had his suspicions; they would eventually be either confirmed or denied without him unnecessarily pressing the subject.
Better to meditate on how he might have been somewhat more diplomatic with the licensing officer and let go of his (completely reasonable) complaints. From all he knew of Cangse Sanren’s reputation, she would be more than capable of dealing with anything that crossed her path until Lan Qiren could legally assist her. She’d obviously been doing a fine job until now.
He did find himself wondering if she would be in attendance at the Discussion Conference, however, a thought which carried him through the train ride to Qishan and into the reception hall in Nightless City three days later. He couldn’t recall her attending any in Gusu, and he usually left his brother to represent the Lan at such affairs. Given that he’d rather shave off his beard than allow the boys to attend without him and bear the brunt of the elders’ displeasure with their move to Yiling, attending this one had become a necessity.
It proved a wise move, as within minutes of entering the reception hall they were beset by the joint disapproval of Lan Dailuan and Lan Zhurun, two of the most officious examples, as well as the most obnoxious.
They clucked over the boys and demanded an account of their schoolwork, an endless barrage of questions that quickly froze the smile on A-Huan’s face and saw A-Zhan ducking back behind Lan Qiren’s legs to escape their scrutiny. Some of the questions bordered on belligerent—how dare they question whether Lan Qiren had continued their tutelage in the disciplines?—and he cast his gaze around for his brother in hopes of finding succor.
When he caught Qingheng-jun’s eye across the room, deep in conversation with Wen Ruohan, the other man merely twitched an eyebrow, indicating his indifference, and angled himself away to prevent Lan Qiren from drawing his attention away from the Chief Cultivator once more.
Irritated but resigned, Lan Qiren did his best to divert the elders’ interest his way, suggesting that A-Huan might take A-Zhan in search of Nie Mingjue and his brother to allow them a moment’s reprieve.
“I should tell you, when I heard of your intention to take the sect heirs away from Gusu, my first thought was you’d lost every ounce of good sense you’d ever possessed,” Lan Zhurun told him once the boys had disappeared towards the Nie delegation. “No sect heirs have ever been removed from Cloud Recesses in such a way.”
“Yes, yes, yes. I agree. I can only assume this is at the urging of That Woman,” Lan Dailuan agreed. “I always said that Lan-zongzhu had made a mistake in marrying outside the Great Clans. Did you know he was once offered the hand of the second daughter of the late Jin-zongzhu? And spurned it? For what?”
“You’ll have to take care not to allow her too much sway over them, even in death,” Lan Zhurun continued.
Wei Changze’s voice whispered through his head, and Lan Qiren found himself repeating the words from his own mouth, “Do you have a preferred timeline for them forgetting her all together, or should it be approached in an organic manner?” Mortified at himself, his mouth snapped shut.
He needn’t have worried; Lan Dialuan obliviously tapped his chin. “Oh, I’m confident if you stop speaking of her, they’ll move on quickly. Perhaps with time enough for them to return to Gusu before being completely corrupted by a place like Yiling.”
A-Zhan materialized out of the crowd, thankfully giving Lan Qiren an excuse to turn away before he did something as unforgivably stupid as expressing himself honestly, never so glad for the contradictory rules of ‘respect elders’ and ‘do not speak in anger’ preventing an impulsive response.
"Auntie Xiao is here."
Lan Qiren, half-prepared to dismiss it as wishful thinking for them both, caught the sound of a familiar laugh. One he might have overlooked had A-Zhan not inadvertently primed him for its presence. He looked across the room, the crowd obligingly shifting enough to give him a glimpse of Xiao Jingfei herself, her head tossed back in a carefree laugh, standing next to Nie-furen. She’d forgone her usual sunny casual wear in favour of formal white robes lined with black, her hair elegantly braided and held in place with an elaborate ornamentation twisted into thee shape of a mountain skyline.
Sensing his scrutiny, she turned her head and her eyes lit up in recognition.
She made her excuses and left Nie-furen with a peck to the cheek, then crossed the floor to join him.
“I guess I should have known,” she greeted with an impish smile.
“I’m sure you suspected.”
“Maybe, but I’m told it's very impolite to ask.” She rolled her eyes, as though the concerns of propriety existed solely for her personal inconvenience. “You look very handsome, A-Zhan. I’m sure A-Ying will be sad to hear he missed seeing you in your formal robes.”
A-Zhan frowned. “I will wear this for him,” he stated.
“Very good.” She knelt down before him. “I know this will be boring for you. Would you like to play a game?” He looked up at Lan Qiren for permission, though Lan Qiren suspected they both knew that she’d find a way to have him play even if Lan Qiren forbade it. Not that he had any intention of doing so. He suspected he’d be bored enough for them both, sitting behind his brother and A-Huan and trying not to make his contempt at the ridiculous politicking too obvious. “A-Ying and I play this all the time. Choose a word. Any word you want. And every time we hear it said, we’ll count. After the meeting, we’ll meet up and compare our numbers. If they’re the same, then we can split the bag of candy I have in my sleeve. If we have different numbers, then we have to remove the candies equal to the difference and share what’s leftover.”
A-Zhan considered this. “What happens to the candy we don’t eat?”
“Well, seeing as A-Chang isn’t here, I guess we’ll have to give it to your uncle and brother to split.” She smiled up at Lan Qiren. “What will our word be? Don’t make it too easy—it’s a big bag of candy, but not big enough for you to pick something like ‘gongzi.’”
A-Zhan’s cheeks puffed out as he thought about it. Finally, he offered, ‘sword.’
“Excellent. I will see you after today’s meeting, then, and we’ll divide up the candy.” She rose gracefully to her feet again. “If your uncle doesn’t mind me trespassing on your dinner plans.”
“A-Huan’s presence has been requested by his father, but A-Zhan and I have no set plans,” Lan Qiren said. Xiao Jingfei frowned and glanced down at A-Zhan, who seemed completely unconcerned over this deliberate exclusion. His father had never had time for him before their move to Yiling, after all, and this hardly seemed out of character now.
“Then I’ll meet you both for dinner.”
With the meeting being called to order, Xiao Jingfei headed back across the room, to the small corner reserved for any rogue cultivators who chose to attend. Besides her, there were only two other men, both of them looking irritated to share quarters with her, either as a woman or because of the impertinent grin she offered when sitting down alongside them.
Wen Ruohan stood, and silence swept across the room. Their Chief Cultivator enjoyed a commanding presence which spoke of his authority long before he said a single word. While Lan Qiren found the militant authoritarianism of QishanWen excessive in its style, even compared to Cloud Recesses rules of conduct, he did not deny it made for enjoyably quieter meetings.
All Discussion Conferences started the same way, with a quick recitation of significant events which occurred in the great sects since the last meeting. GusuLan, second among equals after QishanWen, presented Qingheng-jun to deliver the state of affairs. He discussed the expansion of their library and how many of their junior cultivators had been promoted in the past year. He did not offer any words about Li Linxia’s passing, which Lan Qiren tried not to take to heart; they had been separated many years, after all, and it had been longer still since she’d performed the duties expected of a sect leader’s wife.
When he finished, Wen Ruohan stood. “I understand that your younger brother has taken the Lan sect heir and second heir and moved with them to Yiling. Surely Qingheng-jun must miss his sons, having them so far away?” Wen Ruohan cast a disparaging look towards Lan Qiren. “It also raises the question as to why a Lan cultivator has decided to operate so far outside of Gusu.”
Qingheng-jun rose gracefully to his feet. “Your concern for the welfare of GusuLan is acknowledged and welcomed, Excellency. My brother has accepted a teaching position at Yiling University. I’m sure you can appreciate that, with the importance GusuLan places on furthering the knowledge and education of others, why this only reflects positively on his conduct.”
Wen Ruohan considered this a moment. “And this does not offend YunmengJiang? Or, I forget, they no longer consider Yiling to be part of their protectorate, now that Cangse Sanren operates out of the area.”
Sect Leader Jiang rose. “YunmengJiang takes no issue with the esteemed Second Young Master Lan’s work with the University.” He bowed towards the Lan delegation.
"And Cangse Sanren doesn’t mind suddenly accommodating a sect cultivator?"
He would have been an idiot indeed to feel surprised when Xiao Jingfei rose to her feet.
"I welcome Lan-er-gongzi's time, expertise and attention. As I have written to His Excellency, Yiling's proximity to the Burial Mounds has made the area very dangerous, and as the only licensed senior cultivator in the district, it has been a challenge for me to maintain the peace."
"Don't you think you are too bold, Cangse Sanren?" Jiang Fengmian asked. "He is not moving there to help you. As I hear, he has not even transferred his licenses over. He is there to teach, and surely someone of your particular skills doesn't need to inconvenience anyone else."
Xiao Jingfei did not bother turning her attention his way, indeed, she barely twitched in his direction. From the stormy cast to Jiang Fengmian's face, he marked it well.
"If Lan-er-gongzi has no desire to night hunt, then I shall continue to fulfill my duties. My sword is at the service of the people of Yiling."
A-Zhan stifled a small gasp behind Lan Qiren, and she spared him a heartbeat-quick smile, completely overlooked by those around her.
"Or, perhaps, you might consider moving elsewhere and allowing YunmengJiang to reclaim the district in order to ensure it is properly protected," Sect Leader Yao called. "Isn't it your insistence which keeps his cultivators from assisting the people there?"
As though a single person could stand against one of the Great Sects if they were determined.
She didn't bother acknowledging Sect Leader Yao either. "Whatever Lan-er-gongzi's plans, whether he intends to teach or to night hunt or both, I will remain in Yiling." She bowed to Wen Ruohan.
"My brother, I know, will act according to his conscience." Somehow, Qingheng-jun made words he would fling as an insult in private sound complimentary. "And will do his utmost to maintain the standards of morality demanded by GusuLan."
"Well, then." Wen Ruohan waved his hand, his interest now settled. "LanlingJin, please deliver your sect news."
Across the room, Xiao Jingfei caught Lan Qiren's eyes. She offered a smile, though one emptier than the ones to which he'd become accustomed in her presence. More than anything, he thought she looked tired. It brought to mind the words the woman at the licensing office had whispered about burn out.
He made a mental note to follow up with the licensing office the moment they returned to Yiling. If he could do anything to help stave off her exhaustion, he would.
The meeting ended late into the evening, and Lan Qiren needed to settle A-Huan with his father before going in search of Xiao Jingfei. A-Huan smiled through the nervousness in his eyes, anticipating an interrogation similar to the one he'd received from the elders earlier that afternoon.
"Remember that no single person is the source of authority in the world," Lan Qiren said. "And that even venerable and respected elders may bring bias into their assessments."
"Yes, Shufu," A-Huan whispered, glancing towards where Qingheng-jun and Lan Zhurun were deep in conversation.
"If you need me, I have my phone," Lan Qiren told him. "I have already informed your father that you will be staying in our suite, and we will be along to pick you up after dinner."
A-Huan nodded and looked down at A-Zhan, who surprised them both by reaching out to take his hand. Once he had it, he looked unsure as to what to do with it, and settled on tightly squeezing A-Huan's fingers.
"I will save you my candy, even if Auntie Xiao and I have the same number counted," he vowed.
A-Huan's smile became marginally more real. "Thank you, didi. Make sure to have some yourself. Especially if Shufu breaks the rules to let you have some before dinner."
"There are no rules about candy. Wei Ying made me check."
A-Huan laughed, a fragile little butterly of a sound drawn to his younger brother's floret smile. "I trust you."
Finally, he could not put it off any longer. He straightened his shoulders and made his way to Qingheng-jun's side. He looked small and fragile next to his father, who radiated authority. For a moment, A-Huan resembled Li Linxia so strongly it made Lan Qiren's heart clench in his chest.
He offered his hand to A-Zhan, who considered it carefully before taking it.
They walked in comfortable silence out the door, A-Zhan constantly peeking over his shoulder to check on A-Huan right up until they'd exited out into the elaborately gilded hallway beyond.
Lan Qiren cast a look around for Xiao Jingfei, spotting her lounging against a far wall and blithely ignoring Jiang Fengmian, who seemed to be growing increasingly agitated with each moment.
She lit up when she spotted them. "Gege!"
More than a few heads turned. Jiang Fengmian looked as though someone had held a small turd up to sit on his upper lip just beneath his nose, regarding both her and Lan Qiren with a scowl. She sailed away from him with a precise combination of rudeness and arrogance meant to infuriate.
"Well, A-Zhan, what was your count?" she asked.
"Twenty-three," he said confidently.
"Aiya, really? I only had twenty-one." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a bag of sweets. "Looks like your uncle and brother each get a candy as well."
She started to open the bag and paused when Lan Wangji placed a hand on hers to stop her. "I promised to share. And. Do you think Wei Ying might like some?"
"You are a very sweet boy, A-Zhan. Too sweet! You obviously do not need any candy at all!" When his face fell, she chuckled. "Ah, I suppose you can never be too sweet. I'll tell you what. If you share your candy with A-Huan, then I will save half of mine for you and Wei Ying to share when we get home."
"Half?" Lan Qiren asked with a raised brow.
"Ah, gege, I may have lost, but I lost fair and square, and half my loot is all I'm willing to part with. Plus, A-Chang will ruthlessly steal all of mine if given the chance, but he would never in a million years take any from the boys."
Lan Qiren tried to reconcile this picture of a principled candy bandit with what he knew of the man, and decided the pieces fit so perfectly he was surprised he had not guessed the general shape of the puzzle before.
"Now, if I recall correctly, which I usually do, there is an excellent hot pot place a few blocks away."
Lan Qiren blinked. "I'm given to understand that the neighbourhood is not entirely savoury." Not that anyone would dare suggest as much to Wen Ruohan.
Xiao Jingfei smirked. "Don't worry, gege. I'll protect you."
Shameless!
She opened the bag of candy and handed one to A-Zhan, popped another into her mouth, then held out a third for Lan Qiren.
“I don’t like sweets,” he said, staring at it helplessly.
“Who told you that?”
He wanted to ask if she felt he could use some sweetening up. Instead of succumbing to such an inappropriate, ludicrous instinct, he took the candy from her and popped it into his mouth, sucking furiously as he could as she led them out the doors and into the early evening air.
They collected A-Huan after dinner. While Lan Qiren fixed him with a searching look, determined to root out any signs of distress, his elder nephew looked merely relieved. As they readied themselves for bed, A-Huan put Lan Qiren’s mind at ease: while there had been some questions with regards to his education and home situation, it seemed Qingheng-jun had largely propped him up as an ornament to prove that there was no divide between sect leader and heir, and A-Huan had passed the evening meal in lonely silence.
Lan Qiren could not say the same. Xiao Jingfei required no conversation partner other than the sound of her own voice in her ears, and seemed blithely unoffended when neither Lan Qiren and A-Zhan had engaged with her over the course of the meal, probably used to them by now. The restaurant offered a variety of vegetarian options. Though she never complained over the lack of meat when they’d ordered, Xiao Jingfei helped herself to more than her fair share of mushrooms. To compensate, she’d laughingly piled both their plates high with her lotus root.
He settled the boys to bed, then changed into soft linen trousers and removed the heavy decorative piece weighing down his head. While he enjoyed the pageantry of traditional cultivation, he also deeply appreciated the moment he could take the six-pound silver guan out of his hair.
A quiet knock drew his attention just as he’d begun to unwind his ribbon from its place. Retying it with the ease of old muscle memory, he answered and found Xiao Jingfei on the other side in sweat pants and an oversized sweater he felt confident he’d seen Wei Changze wearing. A jar of wine and two cups dangled from her hands.
“Drink?” she offered.
“I abstain.”
She smiled. “Probably for the best. Want to keep me company while I drink, then?”
He stepped back to allow her inside. She passed a fond look at the boys, both already sleeping, and followed him through the suite to the balcony overlooking the mountains surrounding Nightless City. While industry had polluted the air to the point of rendering them nearly invisible, they still loomed in black outlines on the horizon.
“A-Chang doesn’t drink either,” she said, dropping into one of the chairs on the balcony. “Bad memories of people who imbibed a bit too much around him when he was younger. I generally avoid drinking to excess in front of him.” She glanced sidelong at Lan Qiren. “Do you mind?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have invited you in.”
She smiled, a small, quiet thing lacking her usual enthusiasm. She uncapped the wine and drank directly from the jar.
“About your licenses,” she said after a few moments of pleasant silence.
“There have been some unforeseen delays,” Lan Qiren told her.
She nodded through a drawn-down brow. “I don’t want you to transfer them for my sake, if you’re worried. Fengmian was right, I am being presumptuous in assuming you’d want to deal with the shit that comes out of the Burial Mounds. Especially when you’ve got the boys to worry about. I’m constantly terrified that I’m eventually going to leave A-Chang a widower, and A-Zhan and A-Huan shouldn’t have to deal with more than one tragedy in their childhood.” The words spilled quickly from her lips, as though she’d rehearsed them.
“You don’t seem to have much faith in my skills,” Lan Qiren harrumphed, silently despairing at the lost look in her eyes. The exhaustion he’d noted in the day’s meeting draped itself across her shoulders, making her look smaller than she had any right to.
“Well, you’re welcome to spar with me any time and correct my assumptions about classrooms making cultivators soft,” she teased gently. She took another long sip of wine. “You don’t have to worry about me, is what I’m trying to say. The boys come first.”
“And do you think it’s putting them first if I do not provide an upright example of what they should do with the skills I’m personally teaching them?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Without question.” She took another sip. “I’m a selfish person, but not that selfish. I can deal with the big night hunts and leave our little friends with their graduated licenses to the smaller ones. You focus on your family and don’t for one second think you need to worry over me.”
Lan Qiren, by nature, was not a worrier. If something concerned him, he took action. If no actions were available, he accepted the situation to be beyond his control and spared no effort in bemoaning the unfairness of it. In this situation, however, there were steps available to him and despite Xiao Jingfei’s suggestion to the contrary, he had every intention of following through on transferring his licenses and making sure she was not unnecessarily risking herself on a series of solo hunts that might eventually prove too much to handle. Little wonder she was facing burnout.
From the stubborn twist to her mouth, however, he doubted she’d be willing to hear him out and decided discretion to be the better part of valour. For the moment.
“You and Jiang Fengmian seem better suited to distance,” he said in an abrupt conversational swerve.
Fortunately, she only laughed at him, the sound stripping away the momentary betrayal of fatigue. Now he knew it for the camouflage it was, he was determined not to let it distract him whenever she pleased.
“That’s one way to put it,” she giggled, sipping at her wine. “You truly take your rules about gossip to heart, then? I thought everyone knew I was the great lost love of his life.”
The words easily brought to mind the stormy glare Jiang Fengmian had levelled at her earlier, as well as the contemptuous tone in his voice when he’d spoken against her. “I feel that’s unlikely.”
“Gege! Rude! How can you find it unlikely someone could fall in love with me?” A quiet, insidious voice in his mind whispered that he was starting to experience the likelihood of it firsthand, and he shoved it ruthlessly away. “I have A-Chang as living proof! He even loved me enough to marry me even after I accidentally knocked him into a lotus pond after he proposed?”
“I don’t doubt your charms,” he responded dryly. Xiao Jingfei cackled in a superbly unattractive manner, which Lan Qiren refused to validate with so much as a visible hint of his amusement. “But I have known Jiang Fengmian for many years and I don’t see you as being particularly suited to one another.”
He’d first crossed paths with Jiang Fengmian when he’d come to attend a series of lectures in Gusu, a privilege extended to all high-ranked sect cultivators. Lan Qiren, seven at the time, had a first taste of his brother’s disinterest when Qingheng-jun, himself eighteen, had attached himself to Fengmian and their cohort of peers and spent the three months ignoring Lan Qiren entirely in favour of their company. Jiang Fengmian had been sixteen and congenial and determined to win over everyone with his kind smiles and easy company. He was a man inclined to make love to the whole world and in trying to please everyone, never managed to come across as sincere to anyone. While some people could overlook such things, Lan Qiren never found it appealing.
“Well, he didn’t think I was suited to A-Chang, either.” She shook her head. “But it’s in the past. I won. That’s what matters.” She shook the jar to try and coax out the last few drops.
“Yes, I can see you are completely unaffected.”
Xiao Jingfei snorted. “It’s unfair for you to be so funny, gege.” From the front pocket of her sweater, she pulled out the bag of candy. “Here. I’ve peeled off half for A-Ying already. Help me eat some of these. A-Chang really is unbearable when he’s had too much sugar.” She opened the bag and held it out to him.
“Perhaps one,” he agreed.
Xiao Jingfei smiled and leaned back in her chair, popping one of the sweets into her mouth. They sat in companionable silence, the dull roar of the city quickly fading into white noise. She silently passed him another candy when the last tiny bit of his finally dissolved.
“Am I converting you, gege?” she asked.
“You are one of the primary unsavoury influences in my life,” Lan Qiren told her.
She grinned with an unseemly lack of decorum. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Three weeks after the Discussion Conference, with yet more administrative delays preventing him from joining Xiao Jingfei on her night hunts, Lan Qiren found himself in a decidedly dour mood. While she’d begun bullying him into regular spars, and the physical exertion had been a welcome distraction, it did not satisfy his desire to assist her.
He sat across from Wei Changze in the staff lounge, listening to Wei Changze murmuring under his breath as he graded the practice tests he’d levelled at his students the day before, the results of which resulting in his obvious mental anguish.
Lan Qiren occasionally hummed over his own reading, switching his attention back and forth between an aging book and his laptop.
It was, to their shared frustration, this moment of temporary peace into which Su Minshou decided to insert himself. Despite the dozens of other available tables, he shoved himself into the space between Wei Changze and Lan Qiren.
“Lan-laoshi,” he greeted with an ingratiating smile. “May I steal a moment of your time?”
“Had I one to give,” Lan Qiren said, fixing his attention on his laptop screen.
“Very good, very good. Do you have your teaching certification for cultivation?”
“I would hardly have been hired on if I hadn’t,” Lan Qiren pointed out, still focusing on his papers, hoping that being denied eye contact would eventually be taken as the invitation to absence in which he meant it.
Unfortunately, Su Minshou took any acknowledgment at all as proof of interest. “I have only today passed my certification for senior level licensing—” How had Su Minshou been hired without such licenses already in place, Lan Qiren could only imagine. Perhaps his employment had been made contingent on acquiring them? “—and I require a certified instructor to supervise my first one hundred and fifty hours of night hunting. Since you are the only true cultivator of the appropriate calibre—”
“False,” Lan Qiren said, scrolling down the page. He pressed rather more aggressively on the space bar than his laptop likely appreciated. “Cangse Sanren is exceptionally talented, and I believe she has her certifications if you need supervision. As such, my licenses have not yet come through and I am currently unallowed to supervise anyone.”
“Ah,” Su Minshou’s face fell. “Do you know when your licenses might be issued?”
Lan Qiren glowered. “Not as such.”
“I’m happy to wait, Lan-laoshi, if you will but tentatively accept the great honour of supervising my hunts.”
Wei Changze sniffed at his stack of papers. Lan Qiren glanced at him over the top of Su Minshou’s head. To all outward appearances unaffected, he nonetheless seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek, his jaw twitching.
“It is a very great honour I shall have to decline for the foreseeable future, considering.”
“But—”
“As I recall, you also need to have your supervised hours submitted within a ninety day period of obtaining your certification. Unless you care to risk the chance of your grace period expiring, I suggest reaching out to Cangse Sanren and requesting her assistance.”
Su Minshou’s mouth snapped shut. “Please keep me informed of the status of your license, Lan-laoshi.” He stood, bowed low enough that his messenger bag fell over his shoulder and nearly smacked Lan Qiren in the face, before escaping back out the door.
Lan Qiren waited only until he was gone before looking to Wei Changze. “I see your wife has managed to successfully terrify a certain corner of the population.”
“Just the corner occupied by Su Minshou. And possibly his wife. I understand his son harassed A-Ying at school and Xiao-Fei had a few things to say about it.”
Su Minshan Lan Qiren abruptly connected. As the trunk, so the branch.
They returned to their companionable silence until Wei Changze’s phone buzzed a little over an hour later.
“Hm,” Wei Changze said, examining his phone screen with a tiny smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. He passed his phone to Lan Qiren.
“‘Bring gege for dinner.’” Lan Qiren frowned. “I can only assume based on the proper spelling, punctuation and lack of emojis that she’s cross.”
“She’d be less cross if she heard you say the word ‘emoji’ in that tone,” Wei Changze chuckled. “I can pick up the boys if you’d like to go meet A-Huan.”
“Very well. I’ll see you shortly.”
He arrived at the secondary school at the ring of the bell. A-Huan emerged with a handful of friends, the five of them laughing and companionably rubbing shoulders. When he spotted Lan Qiren, he embraced two of his friends, waved at the others, and quickened his pace.
“I wasn’t expecting you Shufu.”
“We’ve been invited for dinner with your Auntie Xiao and Uncle Wei, and I thought we might walk over together.”
“I’m sure A-Zhan will be happy about that,” A-Huan laughed. He fell into step with Lan Qiren. “And you?”
“And me what?”
“Are you happy?” A-Huan slowed and Lan Qiren glanced back at him. “I feel you should be, with all you’ve done for us.”
Lan Qiren took a moment to think about it. Their flat, cozy and comfortable and slowly filling with all the trappings of a home. The satisfaction he took in his work and the relief of not having the Lan elders constantly berating his research and talents, or comparing them to his brother. The friends he’d found in Wei Changze and Xiao Jingfei. And, most importantly, his nephews. His boys. Brilliant and hardworking, and surely destined to be among the top ranked young masters of their generation.
“Yes, A-Huan. I am very happy.”
A-Huan touched his arm. “I’m glad, Shufu.”
When they arrived at the small home overlooking the river, they found Wei Changze, A-Zhan and Wei Ying out front, Wei Ying noodling around with a soccer ball, passing it back and forth with Wei Changze around A-Zhan, who’d seated himself under a broad-branched tree with a book balanced in his lap. From the rather windswept look of his hair and flush in his cheeks, the retreat had been a recent one.
“I haven’t dared go inside yet,” Wei Changze said with a laugh.
“Baba’s in trouble,” Wei Ying singsonged.
Wei Changze playfully cuffed the back of his head and kicked the ball towards A-Huan. “If you wouldn’t mind taking point?”
A-Huan nodded happily and obligingly kicked the ball to the furthest corner of the yard, Wei Ying charging after it with a delighted whoop.
Sharing a commiserating look, Lan Qiren and Wei Changze walked into the house, ready to accept their fate. Immediately the smell of fried chilis assaulted his senses, harsh enough to bring tears to his eyes. Wei Changze winced his way through it and preceded Lan Qiren through to the kitchen, already a braver man than he.
"You two!" Xiao Jingfei hollered when they walked in. She barely looked up, smashing a cucumber with vicious intensity. "Which one of you is responsible for telling Su Minshou I would supervise his cert one-fifty?"
Ah. "I merely corrected his assessment of your skills," Lan Qiren said. She turned a glower his way. He did not quiver, even considering the size of the cleaver in her hand.
"His assess… no. I don't want to know." She groaned. "This is going to be painful. Being around the man for five minutes when we see each other picking up the boys from field hockey is bad enough."
"You can last five minutes?" Wei Changze asked. He crossed the room to wrap his arm around her waist, and pushed her hair out of the way to kiss the back of her neck. Being well over a head taller, he had to lean down, but the intimacy did not make him seem smaller. Lan Qiren felt his ears heat and turned his gaze to the alarming stir fry, which seemed to be composed of mostly chili peppers with token bits of chicken interspersed throughout.
"You are both lucky I like you," Xiao Jingfei muttered. She lifted the lid on a second dish, revealing a much more sedate looking offering of noodles run through with vegetables.
"We are," Wei Changze agreed, a chuckle hiding in his tone. They both turned to Lan Qiren, who sighed but nodded. Unbidden, his words to A-Huan came back and he managed to keep a surely unseemly smile at bay.
"You intend to help him then?" Lan Qiren asked.
"Yes, yes, yes. A house can't stand forever on a single beam and I could use the help." She handed Lan Qiren the first of the dishes and waved him to the table in the next room, already set to receive them.
"Once they stop prevaricating over my licenses…" he muttered.
"Then I will have doubled my wealth. Ah, sorry gege, quadrupled it. Quintupled, even. You're surely worth more than five Su Minshous."
Later that evening, once dinner had passed with its general ebb and flow of chaos from their hosts and indulgent silence from Lan Qiren and his nephews, he joined Xiao Jingfei in the kitchen.
"I feel you would not have accepted subpar assistance if you didn't need it," he said quietly, unwilling to worry the boys. They'd tucked themselves up together to work on a handful of school assignments, Wei Ying idly playing with the cuff of A-Zhan's sweater.
"I received a call about a disturbance near the Burial Mounds," she replied, equally quiet. "Five people have disappeared already, including the junior cultivator sent to investigate. We should be out there tonight, but apparently Su Minshou has 'commitments.'" She shoved a soapy hand through her hair, further distressing her already messy tresses. "We'll go tomorrow."
"Be careful." Don't let Su Minshou put you in danger.
"Don't worry, gege. I've been doing this a long time. Having a diamond with a flaw is better than no diamond at all."
"You are not flawed."
Xiao Jingfei laughed with uncomplicated delight. "Ah! Gege, how shameless! I was referring to Su Minshou!"
"I should hardly call him a diamond," he blustered, fruitlessly clinging to the hope that she would not pursue it any further.
Fate decided to be kind, it seemed, as she turned her attention back to the dishes.
Or so he thought before Wei Changze entered the kitchen.
"Husband! Did you know our Lan-er-gege was such a flirt? I bet all the girls in Gusu miss him."
"Xiao-Fei, don't tease," Wei Changze said with a frown. Lan Qiren found himself already bracing for it when he continued, "I’m sure those poor girls are surely already suffering enough in his absence."
Xiao Jingfei cracked up, laughing so hard she had to brace herself against the counter until Wei Ying came charging into the kitchen, demanding to be included in the joke. Still grinning, she stuck a bowl of cubed melon in his hand and ordered him back to his homework.
The sound of frantic pounding woke Lan Qiren from a deep sleep, breaking into a dream which quickly faded. He jumped from bed, summoning his sword into his hand with barely a conscious thought.
A-Huan stood in the hallway, looking fearfully in the direction of their front door but frozen in place with the edges of panic. It eased somewhat when Lan Qiren emerged from his bedroom, though he hung back when Lan Qiren passed him.
Lan Qiren checked the peephole, the nascent feeling of dread only growing when he saw Wei Changze on the other side of the door. He opened it immediately, only to have Wei Ying—bundled up in his pyjamas and a heavy blanket—pressed carefully into his arms.
“Xiao-Fei hasn’t come back from the night hunt,” Wei Changze said urgently, eyes desperate and shoulders heaving with such frantic breaths it felt like a small miracle he hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen. “She always checks in if it’s gone past midnight. She’s never missed one. I. I need to go and find her.”
A-Huan moved forward, silently coming to Lan Qiren’s side.
“Wei Changze.”
“Please, watch A-Ying. I didn’t know who else to leave him with, but I can’t bring him with me.”
“Changze.”
Wei Changze, deaf to Lan Qiren’s voice and his face a pallid mask of itself, turned to go. Lan Qiren turned and handed Wei Ying to A-Huan, and followed Wei Changze into the hallway.
“Changze.” No response. He grabbed his arm. “A-Chang!”
Finally, Wei Changze froze. Lan Qiren tightened his hold and turned Wei Changze to look at him. Wei Changze stared at him, his gaze dropping to the hand on his arm as though he couldn’t understand why the hand dared anchor him in place.
“I will go find Xiao Jingfei,” Lan Qiren told him. “If she is in danger, there is nothing you’ll be able to do.” Harsh, but perhaps the words were needed to break through. Wei Changze shook his head as though in pain and trying to rid his ears of something Lan Qiren could not hear. “Yes. Come. Stay with the boys.”
“But your licenses,” Wei Changze whispered.
“Damn my licenses!”
This at least seemed to draw Wei Changze out of his stupor. He choked out a wet gasp that might have resembled a laugh in some distorted version of reality, but allowed Lan Qiren to draw him back into the apartment.
A-Huan emerged from A-Zhan’s room. “I put A-Ying to sleep with A-Zhan.”
“Very good.” Lan Qiren regarded Wei Changze with a concerned eye. “A-Chang, will you stay put if I leave you to dress? I will be as fast as I can.”
Wei Changze nodded numbly. Lan Qiren steered him to the nearest chair and escaped back to his room, A-Huan close at his heels.
“Do you think Auntie Xiao is okay?” A-Huan asked quietly.
“We should not speculate,” Lan Qiren said, hastily pulling on sturdy denim and a light jacket. His usual night hunting accoutrement—pre-made talismans, first aid kit, his weathered secondary xiao which was less strong spiritually than his primary instrument but significantly sturdier—were all tucked into a qiankun pouch kept he kept tucked away in his closet. He retrieved it and clipped it to his belt. He turned to A-Huan and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Cangse Sanren is strong and has kept Yiling protected on her own for over a year.”
A-Huan took obvious comfort in the words, some of the stress easing out of his shoulders.
Lan Qiren emerged from his room and found Wei Changze in the chair where he’d sat him, head in his hands.
“A-Huan, please make Uncle Wei some tea and then return to bed.”
A-Huan nodded and made his way to the kitchen.
More accustomed now to offering basic comfort than he had been even a year ago, Lan Qiren knelt down before him and settled his hand on Wei Changze’s knee.
“A-Chang,” he said. Wei Changze slowly raised his head. “I will bring her back, but I need you to stay here. I cannot worry about both of you.”
Wei Changze nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“There is no need for apologies. I would have been upset had you not come to me.” He squeezed Wei Changze’s knee. “This night hunt is the one she spoke of at dinner?” Wei Changze nodded. “Then hopefully it is nothing more than Su Minshou distracting her.” Wei Changze allowed the obvious opening to fly by unremarked, still staring numbly ahead. “Trust me.”
This, at least, seemed to draw his attention. “I do. Qiren. Of course.”
With one final squeeze, Lan Qiren stood and sought out A-Huan in the kitchen for a brief goodbye. A reminder he would return. One way or another.
The cold air around the Burial Mounds stung his lungs when he landed. It felt like a physical presence, as though living frost clung to the back of his throat. The air itself sat heavy around him, completely silent and poised for attack.
He calmly focused his mind and listened to the world around him. The eerie stillness in the night air pressed into his senses until he could hear nothing beyond his heartbeat hammering in his ears. And then, in the distance, the sound of laboured breathing.
Lan Qiren passed by withered branches to fight his way through blighted and thorny underbrush until he broke through into a clearing. Xiao Jingfei huddled up against a tree, her sword on the ground beside an arm with several obvious breaks, hanging limply from a dislocated shoulder. What pulled him up short was the blood staining her midsection, red bleeding into bright chrysanthemum print like a living watercolour.
She slowly lifted her head, eyes widening when she saw him. Blood stained her chin.
“No…” The words would have disappeared into the night save for the lingering silence.
Lingering enough to be purposeful. To draw attention to living bait.
Lan Qiren spun in time to receive the skeletal spirit flying towards him, sharpened claws aimed directly at his neck. He blocked the blow with his sword and pushed the spirit off with enough power to send it spiralling into a nearby tree.
Between heartbeats he drew a talisman and cast it forward, trapping the creature in a spiritual net. In defiance of the good sense telling him to eliminate the threat before tending to the wounded he ran to Xiao Jingfei and crouched down at her side. A sharp, jagged-edged bone protruded from her stomach, pinning her to the tree. She shook her head and tried to push him away with her uninjured arm, but given that infants could probably summon greater strength the effort was for naught.
“Hold still,” he ordered. He grabbed the wrist of her injured arm to feed spiritual energy into her, desperate to heal some of the damage.
She batted ineffectually at his hand. “Stop. ‘S strong.”
“I will be stronger,” he promised. “Where is Su Minshou?”
Xiao Jingfei’s eyes squeezed shut, pained. “Ran.” She opened her eyes again, only for them to fly wide. She tried to push him out of the way.
Lan Qiren had Baiyue in his hand with barely a breath and swung around backwards to block the cruel, contorted maw flying at his exposed neck. He pushed the skeleton—a hideous mishmashed atrocity somehow cobbled together with both human and canine—back and followed it, confident that even the moment’s worth of healing would keep Xiao Jingfei alive until it could be destroyed.
The creature’s grating aura of resentful energy choked the area around it. The choking feeling threatened to slow Lan Qiren’s movements, dragging at his muscles in insidious mockery of his own weakness. He pushed through, striking again and again to back it into a heavy tangle of thorny bushes. The serrated edges of its form caught on branches bound it a temporary embrace.
Lan Qiren flung another net at it, pushing far more of his spiritual power into the talisman to keep it still, then drew his xiao to begin playing it to its end.
Sweat first beaded and then ran down his forehead in rivulets as the skeletal beast fought against his efforts. It felt like hours of manual labour for each inch of its spiritual power he stripped away. Bones began falling away from it, hitting the ground in a clacking pile of dull white.
One of its limbs fell away, freeing it from the thorns and letting it slip through an opening in the net. Lan Qiren exchanged xiao for sword in a fluid movement and pushed it back yet again, tangling it up entirely until he could resume playing.
Finally, it stopped moving. The bones collapsed in on themselves and crumbled away to dust. Noise—the sound of the wind through the treetops, the background hum of animal life—crept back into his senses and he heaved a sigh of relief.
Relief short-lived when he realized Xiao Jingfei’s breathing was not among the new sweep of sound.
He charged back to her side, tumbling to his knees. Her face was pale, her lips blue. He grabbed her wrist and desperately fed more spiritual energy through her veins, refusing to lose her to this.
“This is proof I need not worry over you?” he hissed. He eased her to the ground, and while he wanted nothing more than to rip the ragged bone from her stomach he left it in place. “Hardly conduct becoming of a disciple of Baoshan Sanren.” He listened at her lips for any hint of breath. Her pulse only weakly fluttered beneath his fingers. “Wake up.”
For someone without a golden core, he would have commenced resuscitation protocols, but that was only necessary for cultivators so weakened that their golden cores could not overcome the damage. He could feel hers greedily greeting the spiritual power he poured into her meridians, slowly strengthening her heartbeat until it became regular beneath his fingers.
She finally hitched in a shallow breath.
The wound around the bone began to close and he stopped the flow. If it healed too much, it would only cause more damage when the doctors had to pull it free.
He whipped out his first aid kit and stabilized the bone as best he could to prevent it from jostling about while they moved. Once he felt satisfied at the dressing, he eased her into his arms. Her head lolled back against his chest, still unconscious though colour had begun returning to her lips and cheeks.
“I am very cross with you,” he told her, easing them both onto his sword. “You’ve needlessly worried A-Chang with these unnecessary dramatics.”
She did not reply. His arms tightened around her, and he ducked his head to breathe in the scent of her beneath the metallic tang of blood in the air.
“You will not succumb,” he ordered.
The flight to the hospital passed impossibly slowly and lasted only a moment. In Gusu, they had an entire wing of their emergency room devoted to night hunting injuries. Here they had a single medical cultivator who looked shocked when he burst through the receiving doors. Still, the woman snapped to attention and directed him to a nearby room, willing to let him carry her the last few steps.
He was unsubtly bullied out of the room moments later, when a bevy of nurses flew in to offer their assistance. Sent out to the waiting room, he caught the horrified eyes of both the triage nurse and receptionist and realized his jacket was soaked through with her blood.
Tucking Baiyue and Xiao Jingfei’s Tianbi into his qiankun pouch, he took off his jacket and carefully folded it around the blood.
Then, with the adrenaline bleeding out of his veins until violent shaking was all that remained, he pulled his phone from his pocket to call Wei Changze.
Chapter Text
Wei Changze broke through the emergency doors at a run, frantic eyes scanning the white plastic seating until they landed on Lan Qiren. One of the nurses had, thankfully, taken pity on him and passed a pair of scrub pants his way when he’d been unable to do more than blot at the blood staining his pant legs using the thin paper towel in the nearby bathroom, which had disintegrated with every swipe against the rough fabric.
“Wen-daifu is one of our best. Trained by the Dafan Wen,” the nurse said with a kind smile when Lan Qiren accepted the kitten-patterned clothes. “Your wife is in good hands.”
Afraid he’d lose access to her if he said otherwise, he didn’t correct the man.
(Surely that had been a good enough reason to break so many of the Lan disciplines. Surely that had been the reason at all.)
He stood at Wei Changze’s approach, apologies already springing to his mouth—he had been too slow, too focused on the battle, too passive about the delays in having his licenses issued—all of which disappeared from his lips when Wei Changze grabbed him in a tight embrace.
Lan Qiren froze. The last person to hug him who’d been his size had been Li Linxia and the sudden sense memory of her perfume and the surprising strength in her too-thin arms came flooding back all at once. Lan Qiren raised his arms to wrap around Wei Changze’s waist, helpless to do anything but hold him. Until now he had ruthlessly tramped down any idle thoughts about Xiao Jingfei in his arms and how A-Chang might fit them both into his embrace. Imagination held not a candle to reality.
It took him a moment to hear Wei Changze whispering an endless string of ‘thank yous’ into his shoulder. When he pulled back, Lan Qiren caught sight of the white tear-stained splotches on the inside of his glasses, which Wei Changze pulled abruptly off his face in order to dash his palms across his eyes.
“There’s no news yet,” Lan Qiren offered.
Wei Changze tilted his head back to loose a long breath towards the ceiling, wincing his way through it. “The boys are with your neighbour. I didn’t want to leave them with A-Huan on his own.”
His neighbour was an obliging septuagenarian who seemed genuinely fond of children. “Thank you.”
With another worried glance down the hallway, Wei Changze reluctantly sat down next to Lan Qiren.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The creature proved much stronger than anticipated.” Lan Qiren’s breath caught in his throat. “A-Chang, if you had gone after her, you both would have been killed.”
Wei Changze’s head dropped, everything in his posture screaming defeat. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’m just glad I came to you first. She’s been injured before, but never to the point of hospitalization.”
The alternative didn’t bear consideration. “The creature was unnaturally strong. Had I not been familiar with musical cultivation, it would not have gone down so easily.”
“Then I am doubly glad you were there. It’s not a discipline she’s mastered.”
"She is not proficient in musical cultivation?"
"No. To all accounts such things are forbidden on the mountain. Xiao-Fei believes her master prohibited it out of grief for a lost love." He conjured up the smallest, wryest mile. "Besides, having never subjected you to her singing, you probably aren't aware that she's completely tone deaf."
It was too early to begin making phone calls—to the university, to the schools, to the Lan lawyers who would surely need to be kept abreast of whatever fines they would surely level at Lan Qiren for having violated licensing protocols. And though exhaustion burned behind his eyes, he felt too wrung out to sleep. All they could do was sit in the unforgiving plastic chairs and wait.
Four hours later, the sky outside only sporting the first grey of predawn light, the medical cultivator finally emerged. She’d taken time to change as well, he noted, though there was still a spot of blood clinging to her shoe.
“She’ll pull through,” Wen-daifu told them.
Lan Qiren braced Wei Changze with a hand to his elbow, fearing the other man would collapse. Then again, considering how close to collapse he felt himself, he wasn’t sure how much help he’d be able to offer if either of them went down.
“I’ve placed her in a healing sleep, which I may extend for up to three days depending on how the damage heals. I also have her on intravenous fluids to help with the risk of hypovolemic shock.” She glanced at Lan Qiren. “You did well to keep the foreign object in place. Had you removed it, she would have bled out before you reached us.”
Wei Changze’s hand clamped down on his wrist and held tight.
“I’m moving her out of OR and into recovery. She’s the only injured cultivator we have at the moment, so she’ll have the whole focus of the ward to herself for the time being.” Had she been conscious, Xiao Jingfei would likely have insisted such a thing to be her due, while at the same time trying to dismiss the necessity of it. “I’ll send someone out to fetch you once she’s settled.”
“Thank you,” Wei Changze whispered.
Once the doctor left, he did not sit so much as fall back into his chair, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. Lan Qiren stood at his side, bringing a hand to rest on his shoulder.
“She’ll recover,” Lan Qiren reminded him.
“Yes.” Wei Changze reached up and threaded his fingers through Lan Qiren’s, his surprisingly strong grip close to bruising. Had he been a cultivator, he surely would have broken Lan Qiren’s fingers.
“What do you need?” Lan Qiren asked.
“I don’t know,” Wei Changze whispered. “This, for now.”
Lan Qiren nodded and held on.
The nurse from earlier joined them a little under an hour later. “You can follow me,” he told Wei Changze. When both of them moved to follow, he cast an apologetic look between them. “Only family is permitted.”
Wei Changze grabbed Lan Qiren’s wrist and met the nurse’s gaze with steel in his own. “Yes.”
The nurse bit his lower lip, nodded, and led them through without further comment.
Xiao Jingfei looked terribly small and pale on the hospital bed with none of her usual exuberance to make her seem bigger. A series of needles sat like a crown atop her head. The even cadence of her breathing and steady rhythm of the heart rate monitor filled the room with a comforting chorus.
Wei Changze dragged one of the small plastic chairs as close to the bed as he could without interfering with the medical equipment and tucked himself next to her.
“I should go check on the boys,” Lan Qiren said.
“Not yet,” Wei Changze said. Begged. He turned pleading eyes upwards. “Please. I. I can’t.”
“All right.” Lan Qiren pulled up another chair and once again allowed Wei Changze to tangle their fingers together.
Wei Changze very carefully reached out to cradle Xiao Jingfei’s hand in his free one, joining the three of them together in a single line of comfort.
Lan Qiren nodded off, his chin slumping down to his chest despite best attempts to remain awake. He blinked back to consciousness once or twice, startling himself back awake when he realized he’d tripped into an uneasy doze. Each time he woke up, Xiao Jingfei was still there, still alive.
He came truly awake as the sun finally peeked out over the horizon and began filtering dawn light through the window.
“The doctor came by again,” Wei Changze said. “No change, which is a good sign. She said that once you’re feeling recovered yourself, you can provide her with some spiritual energy.” He cast a knowing glance towards Lan Qiren. “After a full night’s sleep.”
“Hmph.” Lan Qiren sniffed and stood to stretch out muscles which had been crammed into an uncomfortable position for too long.
Wei Changze’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He leaned over to kissed Xiao Jingfei’s hand then pulled it out.
A moment later a slight wheeze drew Lan Qiren’s attention up from Xiao Jingfei. Wei Changze stared at his phone, his jaw clenched so tightly with absolute rage the only breaths that could escape sounded like a tea kettle.
“A-Chang?”
He mutely held out his phone.
Su Minshou: I’m sorry to tell you that Xiao Jingfei didn’t make it.
Su Minshou: My condolences. She was very brave.
“By text,” Lan Qiren seethed.
Wei Changze stood abruptly, his chair skittering back across the floor. Lan Qiren grabbed him before he could reach the door, collecting both Wei Changze’s hands between his palms.
“Stay,” he said.
“I’m going to—”
“I know what you’re going to do. Stay. Here, with Xiao-Fei.” A-Chang looked at him beseechingly. “I’ll take care of A-Ying and Su Minshou.”
Wei Changze’s face twisted up in grief. “I shouldn’t ask this of you after everything you’ve done for us.”
“A pittance,” Lan Qiren humphed, guts twisting in discomfort. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Wei Changze’s expression faded into momentary distance, a sad neutrality that Lan Qiren could barely decipher. Before he could pursue it, Wei Changze shook it off.
“Even so,” he finally whispered, sounding somehow lesser than his usual self. Lan Qiren considered and then discarded the urge to embrace him. He’d been the one to initiate comfort before; Lan Qiren would feel mortified if he attempted such a thing and found it unwelcome. And, considering his current state of fatigue, any amount of mortification might be enough to shatter him.
“I’ll go collect the boys and see to them for the day,” he said. “Try to get some rest.”
Wei Changze nodded and reluctantly returned to his chair.
The boys were still installed with their neighbour when Lan Qiren returned home. He thanked her profusely, to her kind smile and assurances she’d been happy to help.
“They’re through here,” she said, leading him to her sitting room before politely retreating to allow them some privacy.
Wei Ying sat curled up on the couch, staring into the distance, with A-Zhan tucked into his side and A-Huan nearby playing a gentle song on his xiao. Since Wei Ying had not brought clothes with him, they’d dressed him in some of A-Zhan’s things, and he’d somehow managed to acquire a UGusu hoodie, which Lan Qiren suspected had been liberated from the bottom of his own drawer. He’d gnawed one of the strings to pulp, and had started worrying at the aglet of the other.
His nephews looked up when he walked in. Wei Ying did not, beyond a furtive sidelong glance followed by him taking a deep breath as though bracing himself. Lan Qiren had sent A-Huan a message telling him Xiao Jingfei would pull through. While he trusted the message had been passed on, it seemed Wei Ying hadn’t believed it.
Lan Qiren positioned himself next to the arm of the couch. “Your mother will be fine.”
Wei Ying gasped and trembled. A-Zhan grabbed his hand and clutched it tightly. “Really?” Wei Ying asked in a small voice.
“Yes,” Lan Qiren said. He placed a hand on Wei Ying’s shoulder, and the boy leaned heavily into it. “She will be in the hospital for a week, at least, but she will come home to you.” He glanced at A-Huan, hoping his nephews would not resent Wei Ying for it. Between the two of them, however, the only thing in their expression was stark relief. Truly, his nephews were already more morally upright than he sometimes found himself. “It is a bit late for the three of you to attend school today. Let’s go back home, and you can work through independent study for the afternoon.”
“Thank you, shushu,” Wei Ying said, scraping at his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater.
They thanked their host, and Lan Qiren herded them back down the hall.
After settling them into their individual coursework—Wei Ying alarmingly suggesting he could improve on the talisman he and A-Zhan had been assigned to copy out—he set himself to arranging for a spare cot and sleeping accoutrements for Wei Ying in Lan Zhan’s room.
Wei Ying glowered at it when he curiously poked his head in to see what was afoot. “Why can’t we share a bed?”
Because A-Zhan inevitably woke up enormously grumpy when his sleep had been interrupted. Truly, there were rarely such moments of absolute kinship between the two of them as when A-Zhan failed to get a full night’s sleep. And Lan Qiren couldn’t imagine that Wei Ying was a particularly still sleeper considering his propensity for fidgeting.
“You both have school tomorrow,” Lan Qiren reminded him. “A decent night’s rest will help you focus on your studies. ‘A rested body sharpens a dulled mind.’”
Wei Ying giggled. “Maybe I should tell Su Minshan to take more naps.”
“Do not speak ill of others, as it reveals more of your character than theirs,” Lan Qiren told him.
“That’s one of the Cloud Recesses rules, right? Two hundred something?”
Lan Qiren blinked before recalling the boys had scoured all the rules in search of anything pertaining to candy consumption. “Very good. That is precept two hundred and twenty-one.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you recall precept one hundred and sixty-four?”
“Uh…” Wei Ying frowned.
“Knowledge withers if not fertilized with study.”
“Is there a rule that will let me sleep in Lan Zhan’s bed with him?”
“No,” Lan Qiren sniffed in quiet amusement, then sent him back to his homework.
Gao Hong had graciously allowed the instructors in her faculty to house themselves in the larger offices.
“You’ll require more space than I will,” she said. The transparency of the lie, when she had two administrative staff and more than her fair share of work, struck him at the time, but he hadn’t argued. Now, tucked into her space which resembled less of an office and more of an presumptuous supply closet, he regretted taking for granted that she had made herself comfortable. She’d done what she could with the space; limited furniture in light pine veneer made the close quarters seem airier than the close walls suggested, and the wall fountain to the left of her desk offered a sense of serenity.
Serenity which, nevertheless, did nothing to appease him.
They both looked up at the knock on the door and when she called out a greeting, Su Minshou slipped into the room, leaving a ruffled admin person in his wake and closing the door on her face. Lan Qiren bit back the automatic complaint at the discourtesy and instead shifted his chair over to allow Su Minshou easy access to the last seat in the room. The administrator opened the door again and slipped into the corner of the room, stenography pad in hand. Su Minshou barely glanced over his shoulder.
“Thank you for joining us,” Gao Hong said.
Su Minshou’s face twisted into an obsequious smile. “I am always pleased to be in your esteemed company, Gao Hong. Lan-laoshi.”
Lan Qiren had thought, upon first meeting him, that his casual dismissiveness towards anyone he considered lower than himself had been unintentional. Having been a quarter year in the man’s company, now he knew better.
“Wei Changze will not be returning to the campus for the time being,” Gao Hong continued.
“Ah, yes. The loss of a spouse is a terrible tragedy,” Su Minshou nodded, lips pursing.
“I understand you were present on the night hunt?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, it was beyond the capabilities of Cangse Sanren. I, myself, had to pass on the tragic news of her death.” He glanced sideways at Lan Qiren. “Perhaps had more competent cultivators accepted the task, she might still be alive. The beast we faced was far beyond her capabilities.”
Lan Qiren gripped the arm of his chair and bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. The administrator quickly scribbled down his words.
“Tell me more,” Gao Hong requested.
“We met at the site of the initial report,” Su Minshou said, his voice taking on an officious timbre. “She already looked nervous, as though she knew accepting the task to have been a poor idea. We scoured the area for the cause of the disappearances until, finally, we came upon it. A beast made of bone and hatred.” Lan Qiren needed to spend more time meditating on the value of patience, as he found his quickly running short. “She cowered before it.”
Gao Hong shot Lan Qiren a look, freezing him in place. He hadn’t noticed himself reaching for his sword until his hand stilled at his side. He’d deliberately kept it at his side instead of tucked into his qiankun pouch. A reminder that Lan Qiren, as a cultivator in his own right, would testify to the truth of his statement Such subtlety seemed lost on the intended audience.
“The beast attacked. I defended her as best I could, but quickly found it impossible to both protect her and keep it at bay. I can remember the sound of her scream as she tried to escape, but she clumsily tripped into its clutches when it grabbed for her, regrettably too slow to avoid it. Despite my attempts to help, it escaped with her into the trees. Her screams were silenced a moment later.
“It is to my lasting regret that I could not do more, but despite searching the area for hours, I could not find her body.” He sighed and shook his head. “My deepest condolences go out to the family. I’d suggest you recommend Wei Changze return to Lotus Pier to be closer to the sect that raised him in this time of grief. I doubt her son will be interested in continuing his studies in cultivation, knowing how it so violently brought his mother to her end. As a trusted superior, you should suggest it.”
“Thus allowing your son into the cultivation program, I assume,” Lan Qiren said through his clenched jaw.
“Yes. A far worthier classmate to your nephew, you’ll agree.”
Lan Qiren never enjoyed much of an imagination, so it came as a surprise when the vivid daydream of drawing his sword and pinning Su Minshou to his seat like a deranged, self-aggrandizing moth slipped through his mind.
“You have all of this recorded?” Gao Hong asked her assistant. She nodded. “Thank you.” She turned her gaze. “Lan Qiren?”
“Xiao Jingfei is alive,” he grit out. Su Minshou’s face lost all colour. “She is still in a healing sleep.”
“Ah,” Su Minshou said faintly. “How wonderful for her family.”
“Would you confidently say that her statement will match yours, when she wakes?” Gao Hong asked.
“She will, I’m sure, try to make herself look far better in whatever account she provides,” Su Minshou scrambled. “I’m only glad to have been the first to speak with you and ensure you have heard the truth of the affair.”
“How long would you say you looked for her?” Gao Hong asked.
“Hours, Madame Gao.” His change of address tripped simperingly from his lips. “Surely, the entire forest is littered with my footprints. How unfortunate I could not find whatever place the beast had hidden her.”
“I did not find it terribly hard to locate her,” Lan Qiren finally said. He refused to look at Su Minshou, lest he feel tempted to make the unexpected daydream a reality. “Though I saw no other footprints nor heard you searching, though the beast silenced the forest to draw in prey. I was able to eliminate the creature and made it to the hospital in time to save her life.”
“You went on a night hunt while unlicensed?” Su Minshou gasped. “Surely the school administration cannot condone illegal actions of the staff.”
“Lan Qiren and I have already discussed the situation. Given he was not strictly night hunting, but instead responding to a call for aid, we consider his actions to be justified and no further disciplinary action will be taken in the matter.”
“And you feel the licensing board will agree?” Su Minshou asked.
“If they do not, I expect he will face nothing more than a fine,” she said. “But Lan Qiren’s actions are not the subject of this conversation.”
“I will admit that I am confused as to why the school is involving themselves in this affair,” Su Minshou said.
“Are you? We are attempting to establish ourselves as an institution which operates on the highest level of integrity and having one of my only instructors involved in the near-death of a prominent cultivator raises questions that demand answers.”
“I’ve given a full and accurate account of the hunt.”
“You’ve given your statement. We will work with the authorities to review Cangse Sanren’s. Doubtless there will be discrepancies. Given that she has worked closely with the police in the past, I’m sure they will be familiar with her capabilities and determine the truth of the manner in an objective fashion.”
“I think I would like the president of the university here for the remainder of this meeting,” Su Minshou suddenly said.
“He has agreed to allow me to conduct an investigation as I see fit,” Gao Hong replied.
“Invest… this is an official investigation?”
“Did you think it a casual chat?” Lan Qiren huffed.
“Madam Gao, you cannot allow yourself to be manipulated in such a way!” Su Minshou stabbed a finger in Lan Qiren’s direction. “He wants me gone. He has from the beginning. What did we expect, having a Lan cultivator decide to join the staff of an institution so far below him? He’s trying to sabotage this university, that he knows I will bleed for, to prevent us from achieving your vision as one of the preeminent schools in the country. This has all been orchestrated by him to have me removed.”
Lan Qiren sniffed. “Su Minshou, with the exception of these recent events, I have not spent a single moment thinking of you when you are outside my field of vision.”
Su Minshou went white with rage.
Lan Qiren returned his attention to Gao Hong. “Do you need anything more from me, Madam Gao?”
“Not at this time, thank you. I will be in touch if I need to revisit your statement.”
He stood, bowed to her and the administrator, and then showed himself from the room.
Understandably unable to focus on his current workload, Lan Qiren returned to the hospital.
Wei Changze slept contorted in the hard plastic chair at Xiao Jingfei’s bedside. He did not wake when Lan Qiren approached and slipped into the chair beside him. He gently removed the glasses from Wei Changze’s face, leaving deep red puckers pressed into the sensitive flesh on the bridge of his nose. It spoke to his exhaustion that he barely twitched.
Lan Qiren wanted very badly to brush the back of his knuckles along his cheekbone. When his gaze drifted to Xiao Jingfei, he thought of taking her hand and twining their fingers together.
Life thus far had rarely presented him with anyone who drummed up such inclinations. He felt acts of intimacy inherently uncomfortable unless shared with someone he felt he truly loved, and he had—until now, perhaps—never encountered such a person. Dalliances in his undergraduate days came and went without much to distinguish them. He’d largely given them up all together when he’d decided to enter the post-graduate work at UGusu. Up until recently, he’d thought himself well rid of such things.
To tame the traitorous twitching of his hands, he summoned his guqin to play a song encouraging restful sleep and healing.
The doctor arrived a short while later. “That will be good for them both,” she said. “This is the first time I’ve visited when he’s actually been asleep.” She took Xiao Jingfei’s wrist to check her pulse and meridians, nodding in satisfaction over whatever she found. “I can remove the needles. Even with her high cultivation, it will take time for her to heal.”
“She will wake?” He did not want to admit, even to himself, how desperate he was to see her eyes.
“She should. If you continue playing, she may remain asleep for a bit longer, but it would be to her benefit.”
He rededicated himself to the strings as Doctor Wen gently teased out the first of the needles. He played through the remainder of her ministrations and leavetaking. The notes filled the room for the next hour with a soothing melody that drew several nurses to the door for a moment’s respite from their day before they wandered off looking refreshed.
Lan Qiren only stopped when a soft, ‘gege’ came from the bed.
He placed his palms atop the strings and cautiously turned his gaze. Xiao Jingfei, pale and beautiful, regarded him with the smallest smile.
“I enjoy being serenaded,” she croaked.
“Shameless,” he replied without rancour. He tucked his guqin back away into his qiankun pouch. “Water?”
“Please.”
He eased her up with a gentle hand to her back and held a straw to her lips, admonishing her with a flick to her forehead when she tried to desperately guzzle it all down. She cast an irritated look at him and took an obnoxiously loud, if slow, sip. More fool her: her sarcasm accidentally set her up to be more obedient than her usual behaviour, and worked very well in his favour.
Lan Qiren pulled the water away before she finished and pressed the call button to summon the doctor.
“The authorities will be by to discuss what happened on your night hunt,” he told her as they waited.
She nodded, unsurprised. “Su Minshou needs to grow a backbone, or he’s going to get someone hurt.”
“He already has,” Lan Qiren said through a steadying breath.
“Someone who won’t recover,” Xiao Jingfei clarified.
“I doubt it will become an issue,” Lan Qiren told her. “The University is investigating his conduct and I do not believe they will choose to continue his employment.”
Xiao Jingfei frowned and sighed. “I hope it won’t place too much burden on his family.”
“Please,” he growled. She blinked at him in surprise at the sound. “Please, will you take a moment to think of yourself? Of the harm he has done you?”
“No,” Xiao Jingfei replied.
“Why?!”
“Because if I do, if I think about how much I hate being in this hospital bed, and how much worse it could have been, or how he could have left A-Chang a widower, or how he would have caused my son such pain,” her gaze sharpened into steely cold, “And I will want to kill him.”
Without thinking he reached out and grabbed her hand. Injury weakened her grip, but she held on as tight as she could, and whispered not a word of complaint when he flexed his hand against hers until his knuckles turned white.
Reflect before acting in anger, he thought. Rule two hundred and ninety-nine. One he had long struggled with. One he realized he would set aside if she asked. Dangerous, he thought to himself.
The arrival of the doctor saved him from worrisome thoughts of what he wouldn’t do for her and the man still unconscious on the chair nearby.
The next morning, having seen the boys to school, Lan Qiren had the great (mis?)fortune of arriving at the university just in time to meet Su Minshou exiting his office, burdened with an oversized plastic tote of personal items. Two campus security guards flanked him. Presumably to ensure he did not make off with the metaphorical silver.
When he spotted Lan Qiren, his already ugly grimace grew darker. “I’m sure you’re now satisfied?”
“Not an adjective I would use at present,” Lan Qiren replied.
“Enjoy this little shithole while you can. I’ve no doubt people will eventually see the legs on this snake. I will certainly not feign shyness in expressing my disgust with the lax standards of the administration and teaching staff.
“Fortunately,” he continued with a condescending air, “I’ve learned there is a position recently opened at UGusu. I know they will appreciate true quality when they see it.”
“Su Minshou,” Lan Qiren said, almost euphoric. “I can promise you that UGusu does appreciate true quality, and they will look upon you and see exactly what you have to offer.” He could hear Wei Changze’s voice echoing through his words.
Su Minshou’s expression tightened. “You would tell them to deny my application?”
“I still have my integrity,” Lan Qiren stated. In that, he could be confident, despite the ground slowly turning to sand beneath his feet. “They will evaluate you on your own merits, if there are any to be found.”
The security team stepped forward and escorted Su Minshou out of the building. One of them cast a quick wink over her shoulder. Whether due to Wei Changze’s popularity or Su Minshou’s lack thereof, giving him the last word felt like a minor triumph.
He did not intend to stay long. He’d come to collect a few of Wei Changze’s things before returning to the hospital. Rounding the corner, he found three students sitting in the hall facing Wei Changze’s office, one of whom he recognized from those first days when he’d taken Wei Changze up on his offer of tea and company. She’d cut her hair short to the ears, and dyed large blocks of it bright green. She jumped to her feet when she saw him, dislodging the two other women leaning against her shoulders.
“Laoshi,” she greeted. She barely waited for a nod of acknowledgement before continuing, “I heard about Wei-laoshi’s wife. I hope she’s recovering well?”
“I will pass along your best wishes,” Lan Qiren offered.
She pulled a card from her bag. “Here. Everyone in our class signed it. And we can help watch his son, if he needs us to.”
Lan Qiren felt his face softening. Such devotion. “Very kind.”
“Thank you. And. I.” She paused and looked at the two women behind her. One of them nodded encouragingly, even as the other played nervously with the hem of her sleeve. “I personally wanted to thank him for his encouragement.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I decided to write a paper on the history of polyamory viewed through a feminist lens. He helped me find a few good resources. And. And he told me that the number of partners in a relationship is less important than love, respect, and consent.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I want to thank him for that.”
Lan Qiren wondered if she, too, felt the sudden, deafening wind shear filling the small space between him.
“I will convey your regards,” he said, as gently as he could with his entire world violently tilting around him.
Obviously unaware of the shattering effect of her words, the girl smiled and led her partners back down the hallway towards the exit.
He found himself still obsessing over it when he arrived at the hospital with Wei Changze’s laptop and a change of clothes. He’d brought with him a letter from the licensing bureau, left on his desk and stamped ‘urgent,’ as though he hadn’t anticipated it. It had been ‘anonymously brought to their attention’ that he had engaged in an unlicensed activity and would be levelled what he considered a pittance of a fine.
He waited until Xiao Jingfei had been ushered down the hall to her PT assessment before offering it up for Wei Changze’s consideration.
Wei Changze barked out an ugly laugh when he read it. “Unbelievable.”
“Perfectly so,” Lan Qiren countered. “Outside of Gusu, you will find no organization as dedicated to the upholding of rules as government-run institutions.”
“You should let us pay the fine.”
“On absolutely no account,” he stated, firm enough that Wei Changze thankfully dropped the matter. In terms of his personal wealth, it was a trifle and not worth the paper upon which the demand for it had been printed. He tucked the letter back into the sleeve. “But if it comes to it, should you require legal representation against Su Minshou, I do know someone who will happily represent you.”
Wei Changze shook his head. “Gao Hong called to let me know that he’s been dismissed from the University. Xiao-Fei considers it punishment enough, and I refuse to undermine her.”
Lan Qiren pursed his lips. Xiao Jingfei’s ideas of justice applied to everyone but herself; he’d love to know why she felt everyone deserved adequate representation at her own expense.
“The offer is open, should either of you change your mind.” He passed over a business card, one he kept with him not because he suspected he needed it, but in honour of the name printed across it.
In the final days of their marriage, Lan Qiren came upon his sister-in-law by accident, returning from a semester abroad and filled with (likely inflated) pride. Eager to share his news that he had decided to specialize in theoretical cultivation research, he'd gone right to the hanshi upon his arrival, hoping to find his brother in a mood to provide a word of praise or, in the absence of it, any interest in his decision.
Li Linxia answered the door, puffy red eyes widening when she saw him. His sister-in-law typically conducted herself with peerless grace; seeing her now, with hair askew and distress written plain in the furrow of her brow and downturn of her mouth threw him.
"Qiren. I hadn't expected you." She hurriedly wiped at her eyes and reached up to uselessly pat her hair. "I'm sorry, Qingheng-jun isn't here."
Lan Qiren frowned, unsure why the title struck him so egregiously. While he understood his brother’s general demeanor didn’t welcome intimacies, surely his wife didn’t feel the need to address him so formally among family.
"Why do you do that?" Perhaps a semester abroad had been a poor choice, if he came home to behave in such a blunt manner.
"Do what?"
"Call my brother by title instead of by name?"
He thought it a reasonable question. ‘Reasonable’ fled when she burst into tears. Li Linxia half-collapsed against the doorframe, clinging desperately to it as her entire body threatened to break apart with the force of her shaking shoulders.
Back in the recesses of the house, he heard the faint wail of an infant. A-Zhan, crying for comfort.
Unsure of what else to do, Lan Qiren shifted into automatic actions. He guided Li Linxia back inside and sat her in her favourite chair, then detoured into the kitchen to put on the kettle. He retrieved A-Zhan from his crib and changed him. Finally, he tucked his nephew close to his chest and returned to the front of the house to make tea.
Eventually, he and A-Zhan sat across from Li Linxia and waited in silence for her to collect herself and give an account for her upset.
"I'm sorry," she said, grimacing over her cup. She'd never cared for the tea they stocked in the Cloud Recesses kitchens. It never before occurred to him to ask why she never requested they bring in her preferred blends.
"Shall I call my brother?" Lan Qiren asked.
She shook her head violently. "No. No, don't do that." She took a steadying breath and turned pleading eyes upwards. "I told him today I want a divorce."
Icy cold splashed into Lan Qiren's stomach. His arm tensed beneath A-Zhan until he forced himself to relax. "No GusuLan sect leader has ever separated from their spouse.” This would destroy the face of the sect. “You. The elders were right about you. You'll bring ruin to the sect!"
Li Linxia's face transformed. She tucked away her anguish behind a cool, indifferent expression he had only ever seen on her face while she sat at his brother's side during formal events. He'd always thought it a sign of boredom. Looking, now, he wondered what she'd hidden behind it all those years.
"In this, your brother and yourself are in perfect agreement." She stood and crossed the room to collect A-Zhan from his arms. He released the infant, helplessly, and stared at her as she began bouncing him in her arms. "Qingheng-jun is with the elders at the moment. I believe you'll find them in the library."
"Li-jie—"
"You'll have to excuse me. I'm tired."
Do not tell lies, he almost said. He caught the words back before they tripped off his tongue. Between one moment and the next he was suddenly outside the hanshi doors, the sound of half-concealed sobbing muffled by the screen behind him.
His brother surely had to be upset by this. Especially if she'd only just brought it up. He followed the path to the library with more haste than might be strictly permitted, for all it wasn't at a run.
When he entered the library, he found his brother and one of the Lan elders tucked into one of the private back rooms, several older volumes spread out on the table between them. He recognized the man as being one of the foremost authorities on sect law; if Qingheng-jun saw fit to seek his counsel, their conversation had to be pressing indeed. He hesitated to interrupt them.
Qingheng-jun spared him half a glance when he paused int he doorway. "You're back." Lan Qiren nodded, scanning his brother's face for any sign of the same upset he'd seen on Li Linxia's and finding nothing. "Your studies were fruitful?"
"As can be expected from a subpar school outside of Gusu, at any rate," the accompanying elder chuckled with a smile which invited Lan Qiren to agree. The words sounded genial, but Lan Qiren felt the underlying disdain. No one had wanted him to leave Gusu, and his brother had only agreed once Lan Qiren had pointed out that MeishanU had a much more robust collection of texts specifically aligned to his interests than their own library.
He… he had to be saving face, surely. Avoiding such intimate discussions before the present elder. Lan Qiren could wait.
Finally they finished. The elder nodded kindly to Lan Qiren as he made his way out the library doors. When Lan Qiren turned back to Qingheng-jun, his brother had already pulled out his phone.
"Xiongzhang," he said. "Are you well?"
"Hm?" His brother did not look up. "Yes, why?"
"I… I saw Li Linxia…"
"Ah. Well. Nothing to be done for it. She's unhappy. And I can't say I blame her. Having a second child was a terrible decision when we already have A-Huan. I don't know what else she was expecting would come of it." He huffed out a small chuckle. "I can't understand how women get it in their minds that a child will fix all the wrongs in a marriage."
"Then you'll divorce her?" Lan Qiren asked.
Qingheng-jun finally looked up from the screen. "Don't be absurd, didi. What would people think?" He turned the books still spread out before him. "Look."
Lan Qiren looked down at the words with a frown, scanning the page only briefly before he had to stop and reread it. "Complete seclusion?"
"Better than the alternative. She's trying to drive me into a corner, but it won't work."
"You can't imprison her. It's archaic."
"I’ve been assured that as long as we are married, she is beholden to sect ordinance. And while I’ll likewise be required to resign myself to seclusion, there's precedent to allow me to continue in my office as sect leader save for duties related to public appearances." He chuckled. "Imagine how much I’ll get done. I wouldn't want to place the burden on your shoulders, after all. Not when it would interrupt your 'research.'"
Lan Qiren felt ill. "And the boys?"
"If she cooperates, I'll let her have them once a month. She won't be able to do much damage with such limited exposure."
Lan Qiren left the library shortly thereafter, unable to bring himself to speak another word.
For years he'd felt unfilial for preferring the company of his sister-in-law to his brother, drawn to her kind smiles and easy laugh. She had tried to speak to him, earlier, as a friend and he had parrotted every cruel word she had dealt with since their marriage; petty jealousy driving his perception that his brother had found someone—anyone—to claim his affection, and greedy for that person to have been himself. These days, they had repaired most of their past grievances. His words today had been unspeakably cruel.
The sect had never welcomed Li Linxia properly. Either offended by her lack of pedigree or her refusal to bend to their customs, she had been ostracized since their marriage. It had taken him years to see it, and to now throw it back in her face…
During his semester abroad, he had taken a political studies elective on the role of cultivation sects in contemporary times. Having been raised in Cloud Recesses, one of the traditional holdouts in a modern society, he had an academic interest in what the rest of the world might think of them. He had gone in with a reasonable expectation of finding the content offensive.
One of the guest speakers had discussed her personal experiences with sect cultivators. She clinically eviscerated what she decried as the privileges awarded in the name of power and tradition instead of merit, and the effect it had on the world around them. All the while, a sweet-cheeked young boy sat nearby, watching her with adoration.
'This is why I've entered the field of law,' she finished. 'Because those who have been harmed by the traditional customs of cultivation sects rarely have recourse to have their injuries addressed. The number of grievances that go ignored because established law firms will not accept cases that bring them into direct conflict with the great sects is truly the greatest tragedy of our legal system.'
He returned to his room to rifle through his luggage, eventually finding the contact information she had graciously given out at the end of her talk.
He trudged back to the hanshi, wondering if anyone had ever betrayed their own family in such a manner.
Li Linxia opened the door, all signs of despair wiped from her face, the damnable neutrality still firmly in place.
"Li-jie," he said, holding up the paper. "Here."
She drowned at the paper. "Who is Meng Shi?"
"Someone," he coughed, "Someone who I think will help you secure a divorce."
The day after the first snowfall of the year, Wei Changze and Lan Qiren attended a small dinner Gao Hong hosted for members of the faculty and their partners.
Xiao Jingfei, only a few weeks out of the hospital, declined the invitation to accompany them. “I’ll stay home with the boys,” she laughed, waving them off. “At this point, I don’t think gege’s licenses will come through until the new year, and I should save up my strength so the two of us can get to work once they finally stop dragging their feet.”
The words belied the way she still moved carefully, occasionally curling her shoulders in with a wince.
Lan Qiren and Wei Changze left her with the boys, the four of them deeply invested in setting up a blanket fort in A-Ying’s room. A-Huan quickly mastered the skill of keeping A-Ying from throwing himself at his mother, easily redirecting his interminable energy to tasks such as procuring extra blankets and a truly horrifying number of snacks. He also helped with the architectural elements of the fort; Xiao Jingfei and A-Ying shared a value for ambition and enthusiasm over realism, A-Zhan easily caught in their wake. Lan Qiren found himself helplessly fond of them all.
Gao Hong announced Su Minshou’s replacement once everyone had arrived.
“I’d like to introduce Luo Qingye, who will be teaching all our introductory courses. She comes to us from Lanling and I say very sincerely that their loss is absolutely our gain.”
The woman in question had both a pleasant countenance and a sword at her side, waved in greeting. “You will all have to bear with me, it looks like I’ll be starting my curriculum contributions from scratch.”
Either Su Minshou had decided to take all his work with him, or had seeded it with his own incompetence. Lan Qiren decided that he did not care which. They had what looked to be a decent instructor who charmed the entire room in moments, and were likely better off for it. In quick order, she revealed she had a daughter who would be entering the cultivation stream a year behind Wei Ying and A-Zhan, and had established herself on her own merits in Lanling before outgrowing the limited roles they considered appropriate for female cultivators.
Probably for the best Xiao Jingfei had remained at home, Lan Qiren decided after only a few minutes of conversation with Luo Qingye; when the two of them inevitably entered one another’s company, the proverbial house would go up like flash paper.
The party started as a casual affair; with so few faculty members and no students, it felt more like an intimate dinner than a true ringing-in of a year.
And then their martial instructor brought out a truly shocking amount of alcohol.
“My uncle brews it back home on Dafan Mountain!” the man declared. “Try it, try it! You’ll never go back.”
Lan Qiren refused, at first, until he cast a gaze about the room and spotted Wei Changze, head thrown back to expose the long line of his throat as he laughed over something Luo Qingye had said.
WIthout a second thought, Lan Qiren took the cup from the other teacher and threw it back in one long burn of a shot, wincing the whole while.
He woke the next morning to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling, in an unfamiliar bed, in nightwear smelling of Wei Changze’s woody cologne. The dark room felt a balm to the pounding headache and searing pain behind his eyes.
What on earth?
He remembered someone taking an empty cup out of his hand. He remembered a low voice in his ear and, vaguely, the inside of a car. And that was all.
Suffused with alarm, he tried to sit up and was abruptly foiled by the ensuing abrupt rotation of the room. He threw his elbow over his eyes and wondered if the universe had decided to punish him for some unforgivable misstep.
Once the sweeping unpleasantness of spinning had passed he forced his eyes open again and, slowly, rolled over. Sat on a bedside table, a glass of water, two ibuprofen tablets, and several folded pages of paper with his name written on the front in Wei Changze’s immaculate writing. Perhaps something explaining how he’d ended up here.
He wondered if it was an admonishment; had he done something truly terrible?
No point in waiting.
He took the letter and gently unfolded it.
A letter to Lan Qiren.
Dictated by Lan Qiren, transcribed by Xiao Jingfei, with annotations from Wei Changze (WCZ) and Xiao Jingfei (XJF)
The letter had numerous scribbled notes in the margins, all marked with their initials. He found himself already dreading the contents, but set himself to reading them nonetheless.
Lan Qiren,
You cowardly, stubborn goat! You do not deserve to stand before them in the way you have been, with your heart in your hands and hoping they will notice it! Your silence is an embarrassment!
(WCZ: you continued on with this self-deprecation for too long. Eventually I suggested that surely such things were against one of the GusuLan precepts, to which you muttered "one thousand twenty-four" which I assume encourages kindness to one's self.)
Mortifyingly, discipline one thousand twenty-four actually read, 'Do not speak ill of yourself in hopes of being corrected as seeking to be complimented in such a way is deceitful.'
You love them
The handwriting grew shaky, then evened out.
but do not express yourself in a way they understand! Do they not deserve better? Do they not deserve you to be dignified? Why does it take this indellibation
(XJF: sic, while I honestly have no idea what you were trying to say, this is my new favourite word)
to express yourself? It is time for you to stand up and tell them of your feelings and accept the consequences if they do not feel the same. Should you be lucky enough to have your feelings requited, then your bravery will be well-rewarded.
(WCZ: We tried to assure you that we would be happy to discuss such things in the morning, but this was not a conversation to have while ‘indellibated.’ You looked so bereft that Xiao-Fei kissed your cheek to cheer you up. At that point you tried to tie our wrists together using your ribbon and would not be dissuaded.)
Lan Qiren's hands flew to his head and found his ribbon firmly in place. How fortunate he still had something available with which to strangle himself.
(XJF: You finally stopped when A-Chang pointed out I wouldn't be able to write if you tied us up. You looked prepared to cry, gege, it was heartbreaking. Also hilarious when you failed to realize you could’ve tied us up with the opposite hands. We should revisit this later.)
It is time to stop pretending you dislike candy! Meditate on and repent of your cowardice!
Sincerely,
Lan Qiren
XJF: This is tied for my favourite way a man has confessed his love for me, and I only regret there wasn't a lotus pond nearby for me to
accidentallypush you into in my excitement.WCZ: Take the time you need to organize your thoughts and have faith you are not alone in your feelings. We are waiting for you.
The last few words bolstered him, though not enough to leave the sanctity of the guest room. He helped himself to the painkillers and most of the water. And, as he himself had ordered, sat in meditation and wondered about the repentance of his cowardice. Would anyone call it cowardice to hesitate in the unveiling of his feelings towards a married couple? Surely discretion fit more appropriately. And yet the signs were there, were they not? They had to be, if he allowed himself to read between the lines of the letter now sitting back in its place on the bedside table.
While drunk, he'd admitted to it. He had tried to bind them together with his ribbon. Even if they didn't understand the particulars, surely they guessed at the meaning? Yet their contributions to the letter held no condemnation. They… welcomed his feelings?
How he wished he could speak to Li Linxia and ask for guidance.
"Ah, didi," she might say, "A person does not always look for love. Nor always welcome it when offered. But when hearts truly align, it's a convergence of lightning."
He ached for his sister's voice and took a moment to mourn that he would never hear it again.
And then, in the truest tribute to her legacy, he stood and tidied himself, then stepped out into the main room.
Xiao Jingfei stood in the kitchen, absently poking at a small collection of dishes in the sink, aiming an unfocused gaze out the back window. Wei Changze sat at the table behind her, equally distracted. They both snapped to attention when Lan Qiren emerged from the hallway.
Fragile silence settled into the air between them.
"The truth is I love you," he finally said into the air between them. He hardly dared look at either of them. "Both of you. Unreservedly."
They deserved a better declaration. One decorated and rehearsed in such a way that was worthy of them. Yet of all the words at his disposal, nothing properly articulated the depth of his feelings. And if they truly did love him, perhaps they might forgive his shortcoming of expression.
He heard the clink of a dish hitting the side of the sink and then the sound of footsteps charging for him. Half-blinded by his own reticence, he barely had time to brace himself before Xiao Jingfei leapt into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tucked her arms about his neck, pressing her face into the junction of his shoulder.
“You are going to reinjure yourself,” he chided.
Lan Qiren thought he heard her whispering the word 'worth it, gege' into his skin, but couldn't say for sure before she was pressing her mouth up against his own.
He had embraced but rarely. Kissed even less. And in that moment Lan Qiren felt he might die happily in the messy tangle of her limbs. Perfection. Or, at least, until Wei Changze reached them and cupped his broad palm around the back of Lan Qiren's neck. He tilted his face up and away from Xiao Jingfei's, leaving her to mouth at his jaw as Wei Changze kissed him breathless.
They kissed the same way, as though they'd taught one another. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and he had to focus himself before he dropped Xiao Jingfei.
Wei Changze broke away with one last proprietary kiss to Lan Qiren's lips.
Lightning, didi, Li Linxia reminded him. He imagined her smiling and, for the first time since her death, found it comforting rather than painful.
Lightning, jiejie, he silently agreed.
later on, the following night
Lan Qiren abruptly woke to the sound of an outraged squawk from the door. He opened his eyes to see A-Ying standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and chest puffed out in supreme pique.
“No fair!” A-Ying declared. “If Lan-shushu gets to sleep in your bed, Lan Zhan gets to sleep in mine!”
He took off down the hall, calling A-Zhan’s name the entire way.
Lan Qiren glanced to Xiao Jingfei on his left—obviously awake, despite her closed eyes, and trying not to laugh—and Wei Changze on his right—possibly truly asleep, but more likely a better actor than their partner—and sighed.
“They’ll grow out of it,” he decided.
He tucked himself back down between them and slept.
Pages Navigation
skeptic7 on Chapter 1 Sat 28 May 2022 10:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 05:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
s4pphire on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 01:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 05:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
AShippingAddict on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 01:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 05:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
Great (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 06:09AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 05:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
All_I_Ask on Chapter 1 Sun 29 May 2022 09:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
BooksnGuns on Chapter 1 Mon 30 May 2022 04:44PM UTC
Comment Actions
sunlit_pizza on Chapter 1 Thu 02 Jun 2022 04:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sat 04 Jun 2022 12:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
Koontyme on Chapter 1 Fri 03 Jun 2022 01:22AM UTC
Comment Actions
NotBrigid on Chapter 1 Wed 22 Jun 2022 12:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
dog_fish on Chapter 1 Wed 22 Jun 2022 09:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Thu 23 Jun 2022 02:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
Rendition on Chapter 1 Mon 01 Aug 2022 08:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Mon 01 Aug 2022 05:33PM UTC
Comment Actions
Rendition on Chapter 1 Mon 08 Aug 2022 10:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Tue 09 Aug 2022 03:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
FleurFannie on Chapter 1 Fri 16 Sep 2022 11:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
FleurFannie on Chapter 1 Fri 16 Sep 2022 11:44PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Sep 2022 02:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
FleurFannie on Chapter 1 Sat 17 Sep 2022 09:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Sun 18 Sep 2022 07:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
AmyNChan on Chapter 1 Mon 26 Sep 2022 08:00PM UTC
Comment Actions
MathIsMagic on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Oct 2022 11:08PM UTC
Comment Actions
haitangflowerss on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Oct 2022 08:37PM UTC
Last Edited Wed 05 Oct 2022 08:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
Stratisphyre on Chapter 1 Thu 06 Oct 2022 03:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
ABlueRaccoon on Chapter 1 Sat 19 Nov 2022 02:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
jpv2023 on Chapter 1 Thu 29 Dec 2022 07:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
Rainewritesfanfics on Chapter 1 Thu 26 Jan 2023 12:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
CinnamonBunProtectionAgency on Chapter 1 Wed 01 Feb 2023 01:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
KathVernet on Chapter 1 Sat 11 Mar 2023 03:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation