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Climbing a wall is a bit different than climbing a tree, and Wen Yuan has two bottles of Emperor’s Smile in his left hand, but he makes it up the wall around the Cloud Recesses and onto the roof of a building. He hooks his hands over the peak of the roof and is starting to mentally congratulate himself on sneaking into the Cloud Recesses just the way A-Die had when a sword appears inches from his face.
Wen Yuan, with his head just over the peak of the roof, freezes, staring at the moonlit steel that is far too close to his face for comfort.
“If you are smart,” a rich baritone voice says almost conversationally, “you’ll wait outside and come in when the gate opens in the morning.”
Wen Yuan dares to glance up at a tall boy dressed completely in drifting white silk. His gaze darts left and right, trying to find an escape route. He releases the roof with his left hand and, using every bit of speed and strength he has, swings on his right hand, away from the boy, and up onto the roof. The boy is faster than Wen Yuan expected, though, and he rapidly closes the distance between them, forcing Wen Yuan to take a large leap backward before he can draw Suibian. One of his feet lands neatly on the top of the roof, but his other foot slips, and he wavers dangerously for a moment.
He flings both of his arms out to steady himself even as he’s forced to take another jump back away from the boy.
As he draws his blade, Wen Yuan finally gets a good look at his attacker and almost slips again. The boy has skin like the finest jade and cheekbones that a statue would be jealous of. He’s the most beautiful boy that Wen Yuan has ever seen. While his experience isn’t exactly extensive since, before this trip, the furthest he had ever been from the Burial Mounds was Yiling, he’d bet all the money he doesn’t have that anyone would consider this boy beautiful.
Fleetingly, he thinks that, if Hanguang-jun is anywhere near as attractive as this boy, he might understand why A-Die is in love with him.
Wen Yuan manages to block the boy’s next attack, and the strength behind the hit surprises him because the boy looks slender and almost ethereal in the moonlight.
The boy’s sharp eyes narrow as he takes in Wen Yuan.
“What are you doing here? You aren’t a guest disciple,” he demands; his casual, if somewhat serious countenance, shifts into something much more stern.
Wen Yuan thinks quickly. His clothes must have given him away; he doubts the young masters of the great sects would deign to wear the rough, worn clothes he currently does. But before Wen Yuan can decide what to say, the boy attacks again in earnest.
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” the boy demands without a break in his attack.
It takes only a few exchanges for Wen Yuan to realize that Aunt Qing was right when she told A-Die that no matter how talented Wen Yuan was, he needed more discipline. A-Die and Uncle Ning had taught Wen Yuan both Wen and Jiang sword techniques, and Wen Yuan had practiced them as best he could, but the only person in the Burial Mounds capable of or interested in enforcing strict discipline is his Aunt Qing, who cares more about teaching him medicine than swordplay.
The boy's sword work is precise as a razor’s edge and fluid as running water. If Wen Yuan wasn’t concerned with his bodily safety, he’d be happy to just watch . As it is, he feels rather like he’s fighting for his life.
“You aren’t going to get into the Cloud Recesses,” the boy says. It’s not boastful, the way that Wen Yuan would have expected from a boy from one of the great sects. It’s just an honest assessment of the difference in their skills.
Wen Yuan thinks fast.
“My name is Wen Yuan.”
He pushes forward, hoping to use the boy’s surprise against him to gain the upper hand for at least a moment so he can breathe, but even though the surprise is clear on the boy’s face, he reacts immediately to Wen Yuan’s assault.
“All the Wens are in the Burial Mounds,” he says after a moment.
“We are,” Wen Yuan agrees, glancing behind him. The edge of the building is getting uncomfortably close as the boy pushes him back step by step. “But I left, and A-Die, Uncle Ning, and Aunt Qing cannot leave the Burial Mounds without violating the treaty with the sects, so no one can drag me back home.”
The boy mouths the words ‘A-Die, Uncle Ning’.
“You mean the Yiling Patriarch and the Ghost General?” he demands. This time his swordsmanship does falter, and Wen Yuan uses the moment to disengage, dropping down to the edge of the roof before jumping back up to the peak of the roof on the other side of the boy.
“Of course,” Wen Yuan says. “Who else?”
“Why are you here, Wen Yuan?” the boy demands as their swords collide. The clang of metal on metal is loud in the night, and Wen Yuan has to resist the urge to look around and make sure they haven’t alerted anyone else.
There is no disdain or hate on the Lan’s face when he says Wen Yuan’s name, only curiosity. Every other cultivator that Wen Yuan has ever interacted with has said his name as if it was some kind of curse, but not this boy, and Wen Yuan feels something inside of himself softening a little bit.
“To deliver some letters,” Wen Yuan says, surprising himself with his honesty. He’d expected someone cold, diffident, disdainful. He’d been prepared to lie and con his way in. He’d already stolen the Emperor’s Smile out of Caiyi Town and wasn’t particularly phased about breaking and entering. But there is a genuineness to this boy that makes him want to try to do this right.
“Why not bring them during the day?” the boy counters. The style of his attacks seems to have shifted slightly, so little that it took Wen Yuan a moment to notice, but the blows aren’t quite so hard or so nearly lethal. The boy seems content with keeping Wen Yuan from getting past him instead of permanently injuring him or sending him backward off the roof.
“Me?” Wen Yuan asks in disbelief. “You think they would just let me in if I showed up?”
The boy tilts his head slightly as if acknowledging something he hadn’t considered. Of course, having been raised in Gusu Lan, he could just appear at the gates of any of the sects and politely ask for entrance should he wish.
Wen Yuan dodges one of the boy's blows, and his right foot slips off the peak of the roof. He wobbles dangerously, throwing out the hand with the Emperor’s Smile for balance. The boy doesn’t stab him. Instead, he levels his blade neatly at Wen Yuan’s throat.
“Right,” Wen Yuan says, not looking down at the glimmering steel way too close to his throat. “You seem like a reasonable person. Let’s just talk about this.”
“Why shouldn’t I just send you right back to the ground?” The boy asks. “Or take you to Sect Leader Lan?”
Wen Yuan feels himself grow a little pale. He’s not explicitly forbidden from leaving the Burial Mounds, not like the others, but he’s also not supposed to leave. He doesn’t think that being dragged in front of sect leadership would end well for him or his family.
“Let’s talk. You want to know why I’m here right? I’ll tell you everything, and you can decide what to do.” He waves the Emperor’s Smile in the boy’s direction. “We can drink some of this.”
“You are trying to bribe me.”
“Obviously.”
“Bribes are against the rules. Drinking is also against the rules.”
“Fine,” Wen Yuan says, tentatively hopeful since the boy is talking to him. “I will have a drink, and you can sit and listen.”
Wen Yuan takes several careful steps down the roof towards the outside wall. The boy doesn’t move.
“What’s your name, anyway?” Wen Yuan asks, moving down the roof step by careful step, without looking away from the sword.
“What?”
“Your name?” Wen Yuan asks. “Here we are having a conversation, and you haven’t introduced yourself.”
The boy hmphs. It’s a surprisingly undignified noise from someone who looks so regal.
“Lan Jingyi,” he says.
Wen Yuan sits on the edge of the roof. The boy–Lan Jingyi–is still standing at the top of the roof, clearly undecided.
“Is that Suibian?” Lan Jingyi asks as Wen Yuan carefully sheathes the sword and sets it safely behind him.
Wen Yuan blinks in surprise.
“Yes?”
“You really did come from Burial Mounds, didn’t you?”
“That’s what I said.”
Curiosity is burning in Lan Jingyi’s clever eyes, and Wen Yuan holds his breath, hoping that the curiosity will win out. Lan Jingyi sheaths his sword, and Wen Yuan lets out a long, relieved sigh. He watches as Lan Jingyi drops down to the edge of the roof next to him in a single, graceful jump. Something between admiration and jealousy fills him. He can’t help but wonder what he could do with the same training as Lan Jingyi.
Lan Jingyi sits down a little bit away from Wen Yuan with his sword in easy grabbing range. He’s even prettier up close, and Wen Yuan has to look away as his stomach does something weird. He quickly opens the Emperor’s Smile and takes a swig, only to pause and hold it out in front of him. He’d always assumed that A-Die was simply sick with nostalgia when he waxed poetically about the wine (and about Hanguang-jun after too much wine); he hadn’t expected to actually be excellent. He keeps his gaze on the jar of wine and not on the pretty face next to his.
For a single moment, Wen Yuan has a vision of a different life, where he talked to rich, pretty boys, drank sweet wine, and wore clothes as nice as Lan Jingyi’s.
“So?” Lan Jingyi says, nudging Wen Yuan’s leg with his foot. Wen Yuan looks up into his bright eyes. He can’t tell what color they are in the moonlight, only that they are too light to be brown or black. “The letters?”
“Right,” Wen Yuan says, pulling himself back to the moment. “A-Die wrote a bunch of letters that he never sent. So I decided to bring them…” It sounds a little foolish out loud, but there’s no judgment in Lan Jingyi’s eyes.
“What kind of letters? and to whom?”
Wen Yuan takes another drink of the Emperor’s Smile. He has to tell Lan Jingyi the truth if he wants to get his letters into the Cloud Recesses, and part of him, a part that he won’t look at too closely, wants to tell Lan Jingyi the truth, but it feels almost like betrayal to share this secret.
“Letters to Hanguang-jun,” Wen Yuan says.
Lan Jingyi sits up a little straighter.
“Hanguang-jun! Hanguang-jun would–” He cuts himself off.
“Would never associate with the Yiling Patriarch?” Wen Yuan says.
“I didn’t mean…” Lan Jingyi says, looking genuinely embarrassed. It’s cute.
Wen Yuan shrugs with one shoulder and takes another drink of wine. “That’s what A-Die says too.”
“If the Yiling Patriarch thinks that Hanguang-jun wouldn’t associate with him, why would he write him letters?”
Wen Yuan shrugs again. “He never meant for them to be sent.”
“Then why did you bring them?”
Lan Jingyi is still watching him with his bright eyes, and Wen Yuan, who is used to being unnoticed, feels somewhere between flushed and uncomfortable. He wants Lan Jingyi’s attention, but he also doesn’t know what to do with it. He reminds himself that Lan Jingyi is just curious about the letters and shoves down the stupid feelings.
“I thought…” Wen Yuan starts and trails off. His reasons all feel childish now that he’s here.
“You thought?” Lan Jingyi urges gently. His expression is completely earnest, with no hint of teasing.
“I thought that A-Die deserved something good for once. I know it’s silly–”
“I don’t think it’s silly. My father is dead, but, A-Niang, I would do anything for her.” He gives Wen Yuan a small smile. “Even try to sneak into the Burial Mounds.”
Wen Yuan returns his smile. Lan Jingyi isn’t at all what he expected, and he’s happy he was wrong.
“Anyway,” Wen Yuan says, slowly spinning the jar of Emperor’s Smile in his hand. “He gave up– well you know the story I’m sure– but he gave up everything to save us. It’s not easy living in the Burial Mounds. I’ve never really known anything else, but he used to be someone important. He used to have a name and money and… freedom to do as he wished. I can’t give him back any of that, but I thought if I could do this one thing, he might be happy again, at least a little.”
Wen Yuan takes a long drink of the Emperor’s Smile. He’s not at all sure why he’s spilling all of his feelings to this boy he barely knows. He doesn’t want to look at Lan Jingyi and see judgment on his face.
“That’s… you have a good heart, Wen Yuan.”
Wen Yuan blinks in surprise and looks at Lan Jingyi. There is something in Lan Jingyi’s eyes that Wen Yuan can’t quite read. It almost looks like admiration, but that can’t be right.
“I’ll take the letters to the Jingshi for you,” Lan Jingyi says.
Wen Yuan sits straighter, eyes bright.
“You will?”
“Yeah,” Lan Jingyi says. “How could I not?”
Wen Yuan pulls out the small stack of letters and looks down at them and then back up at Lan Jingyi. He just met Lan Jingyi. Can he trust him with this? His gut says he can, but he knows he’s grown up isolated. His hands tighten on the letter.
“We should take them now.”
Lan Jingyi raises an eyebrow.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I just met you.”
Lan Jingyi looks a little sad, hurt, almost, and Wen Yuan can’t help but feel vaguely guilty.
“I just… I came all this way just for this. I need to be sure.”
Lan Jingyi bites his lip.
“Why don’t you want to do it now?” Wen Yuan asks.
“It’s Hanguang-jun ,” Lan Jingyi says as if that is any kind of explanation.
Wen Yuan just looks at Lan Jingyi. Everything, more or less, he knows about Hanguang-jun comes from his A-Die, who is clearly biased.
“He’s…” Lan Jingyi makes a vague hand gesture that only confuses Wen Yuan. “And you want me to sneak into his house while he is sleeping.”
“Yes?”
“He’s in charge of discipline,” Lan Jingyi says. “I don’t even know what the punishment for that would be.”
“What were you going to do with the letters?” Wen Yuan asks.
“I could put them on the tray when I deliver breakfast for him or something.”
“But then he would know that you were the one who brought them, right?” Wen Yuan asks. “Wouldn’t that put you at risk? He’d want to know where you got them.”
Lan Jingyi frowns. “You have a point.”
“We can just go to his home and put them by the door or in the window,” Wen Yuan suggests, wheedling. He’s certain he can get Lan Jingyi to agree with him if he does this right.
Wen Yuan takes another sip of his wine.
“We can’t go inside,” Lan Jingyi says.
“Alright,” Wen Yuan says easily. He is warm and light from the alcohol, and it seems as if things might actually work out.
Lan Jingyi rubs his face with his hands and mutters to himself, “this is the stupidest thing I have ever done. I’m going to be doing handstands for months .”
Wen Yuan is curious about the handstands comment, but it wasn’t addressed to him, so he doesn’t ask.
“You really came all this way just to deliver these letters?” Lan Jingyi asks.
Wen Yuan looks away, feeling heat creep into his face. “Yes.”
“What’s in the letters?” Jingyi asks. “To make you risk so much to bring them here?”
“You want to know why you should risk your neck helping me?” Wen Yuan translates.
“And I’m curious,” Lan Jingyi says. “It’s an unfortunate characteristic of mine, one that gets me in trouble more often than not.”
Wen Yuan studies Lan Jingyi for a long moment. His expression is completely earnest. Wen Yuan wants to trust him, and he doesn’t have many other options. It’s not as if he can beat Lan Jingyi in a fight and break into the Cloud Recesses.
“They’re love letters,” Wen Yuan mutters.
He expects Lan Jingyi to scoff at him, but instead, his eyes light up, and he sits up straighter.
“Love letters?” he asks. “From the Yiling Patriarch to Hanguang-jun!”
He looks absolutely delighted, and Wen Yuan just looks at him in confusion.
“Of course,” Lan Jingyi continues, “Hanguang-jun is the best, and everyone said that Wei Wuxian was one of the best as well. Still, they were enemies at the end, weren’t they?”
Wen Yuan shrugs. “Hanguang-jun tried to convince A-Die to change his mind about demonic cultivation several times, but A-Die never listened.”
“Why?” Jingyi asks. “He was a powerful cultivator. Why would he abandon it? If Hanguang-jun was willing to help him, and he loved Hanguang-jun, why wouldn’t he listen?”
Wen Yuan can only shrug.
“A-Die doesn’t use regular cultivation anymore. He can’t.”
“Why?” Jingyi asks again.
Wen Yuan only shrugs.
“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says belatedly. “I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t even be here. It will be bad if this information gets around.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Lan Jingyi says. “I swear.”
“We should go,” Wen Yuan says, worried that he’ll spill even more secrets if he doesn’t.
Lan Jingyi nods and looks at the sky.
“Someone else will come to take my shift eventually. You need to be gone by then.” He sounds a little sad about that.
Nodding, Wen Yuan puts the open jar of Emperor’s Smile to his lips to drain it, but then lowers it and swirls it sadly. It’s empty.
“Did you drink the entire thing?” Jingyi asks in surprise.
“Seems so.”
“Was it good?”
One corner of Wen Yuan’s lips quirks up into a daring smirk.
“Do you want to taste?”
He’s not sure what possessed him to ask the question, maybe it’s just that he’s a little drunk and Lan Jingyi is very attractive, but the words are out and he can’t take them back.
Lan Jingyi’s gaze drops to Wen Yuan’s lips, and Wen Yuan goes still. He hadn’t considered that Lan Jingyi, being a proper and upright young master, would even consider his silly proposition. Lan Jingyi leans in ever so slightly, and Wen Yuan’s heart rate spikes. When he doesn't pull away, Lan Jingyi shifts even closer, and Wen Yuan moves toward him.
Lan Jingyi’s motions are slow as he gauges Wen Yuan’s reactions, but somehow it still feels like a surprise when their lips meet. Wen Yuan’s breath catches in his chest, and he finds himself leaning into the kiss. The kiss is surprisingly gentle, and Wen Yuan can feel a hint of a smile on Jingyi’s lips.
Lan Jingyi pulls back, and Wen Yuan takes a ragged breath. Lan Jingyi grins, and it’s such a beautiful expression that Wen Yuan’s thoughts scramble, and it takes him a moment before he can speak.
“Well?” he asks, aiming for nonchalance and not quite making it.
“Even better than I expected,” Lan Jingyi says, starlight dancing in his eyes.
Wen Yuan takes another shaky breath and forces himself to his feet. Lan Jingyi jumps up after him.
“We’ll go along the outer roof as far as we can,” he tells Wen Yuan, who nods.
The pair of them set off across the roof. Wen Yuan strains his ears for any signs of life other than the two of them, but the silence of the night is thicker than a wool blanket. They jump to another building and then another before Lan Jingyi jumps up to the peak of the roof. He holds up a hand for Wen Yuan to wait as he looks around. Wen Yuan has to resist the urge to fidget but stays where he is. Only when Lan Jingyi motions that it’s safe does he climb up to the peak of the roof.
Looking at the Cloud Recesses for the first time, Wen Yuan finds himself momentarily stunned. He knows that the Cloud Recesses had burned to the ground during the Sunshot Campaign, but there is no hint of that destruction here. The buildings are simple but elegant and well constructed. There is nothing flashy, not the way that he imagines Koi Tower to be, but there is obvious wealth in the construction and decorations. Just looking at it all makes Wen Yuan feel grubby and dingy as if his well-worn shoes will stain the pristine white gravel of the paths.
He looks at Lan Jingyi again. He’d somehow forgotten about Lan Jingyi’s expensive and pristine white silk robes while they chatted, but in this moment, Wen Yuan is forcibly reminded that the two of them come from wildly different worlds. It hurts for some reason. Lan Jingyi’s gaze meets his, and while there is no judgment in Lan Jingyi’s expression, self-consciousness seizes Wen Yuan, and he looks away.
“The Jingshi is there,” Lan Jingyi says, pointing to a building not too far from them, separated a bit from the others. “That’s where Hanguang-jun lives. He’ll be asleep now–Everyone is asleep right now, but we absolutely cannot wake him up.”
Wen Yuan swallows hard and nods. The warm, floaty feeling from the wine and the kiss have been stripped away, and he stares down at the buildings before him with some trepidation. He hadn’t really thought about what would happen if he got caught.
“Let’s go,” Lan Jingyi says, interrupting Wen Yuan’s mental spiral and jumping down from the wall. He lands lightly in a flutter of silk, and Wen Yuan jumps after him.
Lan Jingyi raises a finger to his lips and motions for Wen Yuan to follow him. Heart pounding in his chest, Wen Yuan follows him as close as he can. He keeps looking around, straining his ears for any sign of movement, but there is none. The Cloud Recesses are as silent as a city of the dead.
Lan Jingyi stops abruptly, and Wen Yuan almost runs right into him. They’re standing across a white gravel walking path from a lovely home made of dark wood and decorated with white silk. The two of them stare at the house together, and Wen Yuan tries to think of what to do. Where can he put the letters to be absolutely sure that Hanguang-jun and only Hanguang-jun will find them?
Beside him, Lan Jingyi takes a shaky breath and points around the building to the front of the house.
‘The porch,’ he mouths. Wen Yuan just nods. Lan Jingyi would know better than him.
They creep across the path, wincing as the gravel shifts underfoot, but nothing stirs. They reach the side of the building and ease along the side. When they hit the corner, they pause again. Lan Jingyi holds out his hand for the pile of letters that Wen Yuan is still clutching. Forcing his hand to open, Wen Yuan slowly hands them over to Lan Jingyi.
Lan Jingyi holds them against his chest and takes a single, long deep breath. Moving swiftly and silently, he enters the yard of the Jingshi and aims straight for the porch. He wedges the letters in the gap under the door and retreats as fast as he can while remaining quiet. The two of them race back towards the wall as if a demon is chasing them.
When they reach the wall, Lan Jingyi jumps straight up, and Wen Yuan copies him, except his control over his spiritual energy is uneven and undisciplined, and he doesn’t quite make it to the peak of the roof. His feet hit the downward slope of the roof, and he flails, trying to keep his balance. Before he can cry out or do anything, a strong pair of arms are stabilizing him and pulling him up onto the peak of the roof.
Wen Yuan’s heart is thudding from the sudden scare, and finding himself safe in Lan Jingyi’s arms, makes his heart race faster, not slower. Lan Jingyi’s arms are harder and stronger than he expected from someone who looks so graceful, even though he had already felt his strength during their fight.
Lan Jingyi seems to realize their position a moment after Wen Yuan does because his breath catches. His eyes drop to Wen Yuan’s lips, and for a moment, Wen Yuan thinks that Lan Jingyi is going to kiss him again. He wants Lan Jingyi to kiss him again. But Lan Jingyi seems to remember himself, and he releases Wen Yuan and takes a step back.
“Thanks,” Wen Yuan manages, feeling his face burn.
“It’s nothing,” Lan Jingyi says.
They don’t say anything else; instead, they hop down the far side of the roof, standing on the curved overhang.
“I did it,” Wen Yuan whispers, looking back over his shoulder at the no-longer-visible Jingshi. He managed to deliver the letters.
“You did.”
Wen Yuan sighs and looks down at the ground below them. It is time for him to leave. He still feels the tiniest bit unsteady from the alcohol, but he’s jumped down from enough trees to be confident that he’s not going to break anything.
“You are going?” Lan Jingyi asks, and he sounds genuinely disappointed.
“What else should I do?” Wen Yuan asks.
It’s not as if he has any other options, and Lan Jingyi seems to realize that because he looks at his feet for a moment.
“What if Hanguang-jun wants to send a message back?” Lan Jingyi asks. It’s an incredibly transparent and nearly nonsensical excuse, and Wen Yuan can’t help but smile.
“Then I suppose I would have to come back tomorrow and see, wouldn’t I?”
Jingyi grins, and warmth spreads through Wen Yuan.
With a smile on his own face, Wen Yuan hops down to the ground outside of the Cloud Recesses.
“Don’t come too late,” Jingyi warns, speaking just loud enough for his voice to carry. “I only have the first watch, and whoever has the second watch won’t be near as understanding.”
“Until tomorrow then,” Wen Yuan says with a wink before vanishing into the night darkened woods.