Chapter 1: Introducing: Wen Wuxian
Summary:
basically wwx's mom and dad
Chapter Text
With practiced ease, he'd strung his bow, taking aim at the demon that he'd crossed paths with.
He had entered these woods with the intention of hunting a Yao but he wasn't about to leave the demon to fester, this is his sect and thus it is his responsibility.
The arrow struck true, as it always did, and the demon fell, he approached carefully and removed its head to ensure it was truly dead, he noticed the missing limb and numerous talismans stuck to the being.
A rustle came through the trees and he readied his sword, preparing to take on who or whatever came through the trees.
"HEY! YOU CAN'T JUST GO AROUND STEALING PEOPLE'S TARGETS, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"
Had it been anyone else who'd said such a thing to him he'd already have their head on pike. Yet he was in a good mood that day and something about the voice, even in its anger was a balm to his soul, it was bright and clear, and the tone that was used clearly implied it had the strength to back it. Emerging from the shadows, dressed in black robes, was a woman so beautiful he could barely form a coherent thought with steely grey eyes glaring at him. He remained frozen even as she too froze, apparently recognizing him even outside of his ceremonial regalia.
"Sect Leader Wen," she breathed out, bowing low. "I did not recognize you, I'm sorry for my behavior."
"Are you sorry for yelling at me or for calling me a, quote, fucking idiot?" he couldn't help but ask, his tone light and teasing, making her relax as she realized she wasn't in to be punished.
"I'd have phrased it more eloquently but the sentiment would've been the same," she smiled and he fell.
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Their wedding was one for the ages, no expenses were spared despite it being a private event.
His new bride had requested not to make their wedding, as his soon-to-be wife put it, a 'bullshit political event for a group of grumpy old fucks with sticks up their asses that no one will even remember being in attendance of unless they made something go horrifically wrong which they probably will since they can't even run their damn sects any way other than straight into the fucking ground.' He'd happily obliged, he wasn't overly fond of the pomp and pageantry that went into the inter-sect events, it had made both his previous weddings feel even more fake and hollow, even more like a chore and keeping up appearances. No other sects were invited or even informed of such a wedding, and even amongst the Wen Sect, not many arrived though all knew of the new Third Madam Wen.
The ceremony was short, as all weddings were in the sect. The only time they were long was the public weddings which were full of pageantry and symbolic gestures to rub the sect's wealth and power in the other sect leader's faces, something he only really enjoyed because it made the Sect Leader Jin look like he'd eaten something sour whenever he realized he wasn't the richest in the cultivation world despite wearing robes of gold and strutting about like the vain and pompous baboon he was.
While he'd worn the same robes two his previous two marriages he had new ones commissioned to match those of his bride. His CangSe had opted for a simple style, commenting that she wasn't about to get murdered on her wedding day by endless amounts of fabric. She'd prefer not to have back problems due to an excessive amount of hairpins which had caused him to burst into a hearty laugh at the crassness of the statements, she'd always been one to say exactly what she thought. So the two of them had simple robes of Lotus silk (which had resulted in him sending quite a generous payment to the Yunmeng Jiang who had a healthy amount of suspicion but eventually relented when he offered to pay extra).
But the smile she'd been wearing the entire time had made every expense worth it, and as he gifted her his mother's daggers and she, her father's sword their marriage was legally complete.
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He impatiently paced the length of the hall over and over, his silken robes trailing behind him and rustling softly with his every step and aggravated turn as he restarted his course. It had been almost seven hours ago that his wife had gone into labor, it had been what felt like an eternity that he’d been waiting with a patience he was not known for. There was, of course, nothing he could do to make the time pass any faster and any interruptions would not only further stress his wife but also her midwives and healers and thus put her and their child at an even greater risk and potentially lengthen the birth even more. That was not a risk he was willing to take.
So he would wait, his mind racing as he thought about anything and everything to avoid thinking about the ifs and maybes.
She’d picked out the birth name, of course, she'd asked if he approved and he had, eagerly, he’d never been able to refuse her anything.
She wasn't his main wife, he couldn't promote her without drawing political attention to her, which she despised and specifically voiced her wishes not to be shoved into the political warzone that was the cultivation world. Yet despite not holding the title of main wife, it was clear to all, even before there was a child on the way, that CangSe was indisputably his favorite. He gifted her nothing but the finest, robes that despite a simple appearance, as she preferred, but made of the most luxurious fabrics money could buy, beautiful pieces of jewelry, and even her own private garden full of her favorite flowers complete with a hidden pavilion. She’d been so bright and free, from a life that would’ve shattered many she had instead been forged. She used to say “I was never buried dear, I was only ever planted.” And he would offer her his small smile as she laughed and he knew he would do whatever it took to protect her from harm.
But he couldn’t protect her.
Not from this.
Her gasps of pain had ripped into him when her labor had started during their tea session, her hand seizing his forearm in an attempt to maintain her focus on anything other than the pain he’d almost struck one of the midwives who’d taken her from him to take her to the private room they'd prepared for her to deliver their child in. Her muffled cries of pain still distinctly hers through the doors had torn into him and now that everything was silent, he feared what it meant. With each passing second the reality of the fact he might’ve lost both his wife and child, a child he would now never know, drew closer and became more tangible, more horrifyingly real.
Then there was a cry, the cry of an infant, and he could finally breathe again.
The doors flew open and he quickly strode into the room where he found his love exhausted but still as radiant as she always was, smiling down proudly at the small bundle that had been passed into her arms just as he crossed the threshold.
“Sect Leader,” the women around her bowed as he entered before quickly making themselves scarce but still within earshot should they be needed, he guessed he'd scared them, his wife often liked to tease him for it, for his constant scowl and notoriously short temper which had been the product of years of grief and loss that made the staff and even some of his more distant relatives skittish around him. He would need to work on that, between their newest addition and his two sons who were born to his other wives.
“Ruohan,” his CangSe smiled up at him, eye still bright despite her evident exhaustion written in every line of her body and face “Meet Wen Ying.”
He looked down at his son, his third and youngest, and was met with a wide and curious gaze, silver eyes, the perfect reflection of the woman whose arms held him, staring back at him.
—--------------
Cangse introduced Wen Ying to his half-brothers a few days later, once the doctors had been sure everything was okay and she was ready for guests as rambunctious as two little boys, both of whom had been curious to meet him. Wen Xu had silently nodded and offered a small smile and a copy of a book he’d liked his mother to read to him when she had the time. His wife smiled and thanked him and Wen Ruohan offered a small smile and nod to his son who glowed with pride. Wen Chao hadn’t really understood what was happening but had said congratulations, stumbling slightly over the words, and that he was looking forward to not being the baby of the family which earned a laugh and as a result another approving smile.
She’d asked for him to come up with a courtesy name for when Wen Ying passed his trial, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t refuse her. Wuxian he had said, a promise to both his wife and son, the boy would want for nothing, would envy no one.
A few short months of bliss.
Then tragedy struck.
All the injuries his wife had received throughout her life had led to complications, and an infection took hold. And despite all the spiritual energy he and his disciples poured in, no matter the methods the healers attempted to use, nothing could be done.
A soul wound, the healers had said, something she'd only avoided through power and sheer force of will, the pregnancy and broth had drained her. Yet even in the face of such news, she made it a point to tell him that never for a second did she regret their A-Ying, that she would give everything she had even to have known him only as the first breath entered his lungs.
She hadn’t even made it to her son’s second birthday, she’d only heard him speak complete thoughts a few dozen times, seen him walk even less than that when she finally passed. Stolen from the world far too soon, stolen from him and their A-Ying despite all he did.
A poisoned core.
A tainted soul.
A childhood injury that was never and could never be healed.
He hadn’t handled it well, but Wens were known for their deep feelings and unfortunately, that was most commonly reflected as rage. He was short-tempered and bitter, making even his sons avoid him due to his inability to control his outbursts despite his best efforts. He knew he was scaring his children, knew it wasn't their fault or his but he couldn't help but ponder the ifs and maybes, run through every single thing he could've done differently to avoid such an outcome. Yet CangSe's words always rang clear, never for a moment did he regret A-Ying, for his youngest was all he had left of the woman who'd held his heart and soul.
He went into secluded mourning, he spoke to no one and didn’t even see his servants who faithfully brought meals to and from the kitchen, even if all of the previous ones had been left untouched.
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As he looked at her tablet, her name and title as his wife delicately carved into black jade, it had cost a fortune but she was, and always would be, worth every expense despite her protests. He felt his eyes well with tears he refused to acknowledge.
"My love, I've told you this before in our vows but I will say it again," he took a shuddering breath and gently stroked the edge of the tablet as one would caress a face. "I will love you until the stars fade away and the planets collide until the world is destroyed and the heavens' eyes turn blind. Until the ocean runs dry and the mountains collapse, until my hands are too weak to reach your face and my lips can no longer form your name until my heart stops and all life passes away, my love for you, darling, will always remain."
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, letting the tears stream down his face as he knelt across from his CangSe, taking deep calming breaths and trying to contain his emotions. It was as if the sea was pouring out of his eyes, his soul bleeding from them. This was the one place where he was able to show his emotions, he tried to keep a grip on them in the Fire Palace, or at least not to cry but she had always hated it when he put on a brave face. Had encouraged him to be honest with himself and her, to let himself feel. So here he was, feeling more pain than he'd ever known but wishing it would stop. He didn't want to forget her but it hurt so much to be without her.
When he'd finally managed to collect himself he left the ancestral hall, body shuddering with muffled sobs under the cover of darkness, illuminated only by the light of the stars.
No one but his youngest child was awake and present to see the illustrious Sect Leader Wen cry.
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There’d been a quiet knock on the door to his wing of the palace.
The servants knocked but only at meal times, his guards didn't knock at all. His family, namely his cousin, Wen Yingtai, would knock and call his name, ask if he was okay through the unopened door, she'd been his wife's best friend when she was alive, the one who came closest to understanding his pain. She was also the one who helped raise his youngest in his mother's place, parenting him alongside her daughter and son until he returned, she would give him updates, and tell him all he was missing out on with his youngest. He would need to repay her someday. The elders would knock five times, and he had just gone to a meeting yesterday, mechanically going through the necessary motions to keep his sect running. His right-hand man had been doing his best to keep the sect running but unfortunately, he was still needed from time to time. His other wives never came to visit, content to raise their own sons having fulfilled their wifely duties, not that he wanted them to anyway, ever since he'd met CangSe he hadn't paid a visit to his other wives even once aside from raising his sons. As far as he was concerned they were the mothers of his children but CangSe was his wife, his soulmate, his world.
He didn’t know why he'd answered, especially when he didn't know who was behind the door, but he had, and as a result, he had found Wen Ying.
All it had taken was his youngest reaching for him and calling him “Baba,” silver eyes wide and oh so sad. He cracked, pulled his son close, and vowed to never again pull away from him, his heart had died with his wife but he would not be dead to his sons, he would raise A-Ying to be strong and proud. He wouldn’t fail his wife or sons. He wouldn’t become like the father of the two practically orphaned heirs of Gusu. He would be there for every next step.
He returned to his room and the boy happily tucked closer to where he was carrying him, smiling up at him in a way that made his heart melt, his eyes crinkled in the same way CangSe's had. With a soft almost smile the sect leader gently picked up one of his wife’s favorite ribbons, one of a set of two identical ones, it was one of his first gifts to her and was heavily embroidered with symbols of luck and protection as well as her favorite flowers, fire lilies. His son had cooed and tugged at the ribbon when it had been tied into his hair and pointed at a fire lily with a small smile.
The next day the Wen Sect Leader returned to public life.
Chapter 2: Parenting Problems
Chapter Text
Despite all he did, being a father, a sect leader, a husband, a widower, and a former demonic cultivator, Wen Ruohan had the additional title of Chief Cultivator.
And of all his jobs, he despised this one most, there was almost nothing he loathed more than the endless meetings and the constant whining of fully grown and supposedly capable adults who were hypothetically running the cultivation world to some extent. The sect leaders were petty and shallow, their words insincere and desperately vying for his favor when all he could feel for any of them was an immeasurable amount of disdain and resentment for their inability to solve their own problems. But the thing he hated most was leaving his youngest son behind and only bringing the elder two who’d been introduced to the public when he traveled for the various cultivation conferences.
The Wens seldom ever shared the identities of the younger main family members in case someone should ever wish to wipe out the family, something that had been attempted several times since the sect's founding, especially in times of war. However, they also couldn’t afford to look weak by having no children in the public eye so there was always an ‘heir and a spare’ in the ever-prying nosy members of the cultivation world's knowledge. Because of this exact reason, it was difficult to bring Wen Ying along as the boy had a knack for trouble and vanishing for hours. But of course, Wen Ying always came along and would often wander the streets of the other sects escorted by two of his father's guards who played the parts of aunt and uncle to prevent suspicion from ever being raised about the boy's identity and heritage.
This time, however, was different.
They’d been traveling home from one such discussion conference when it’d happened.
The hotel in which they’d been staying was humble but offered them the best of everything they could provide, and it was a reasonably sized entourage. The Chief Cultivator, fifteen of his best disciples, twenty-two of his personal guards, the core melter, and 5 children, his 3 sons and the son and daughter of his most favored cousin, Wen Yingtai, who had passed only recently, another person to grieve not that he could show it.
—--------------
Wen Ying was always curious, his eyes were bright and he asked all kinds of questions, most of them being “Why?” and “How?”
“Wen Qing why do you heal? How does that work? What's the coolest thing you’ve learned?”
“Where do questions come from?”
“Why do the other sects wear those colors? What do they mean?”
“How does spiritual energy work?”
”Why do clouds look soft but feel cold?”
“Why is the sun our sect symbol?”
“How come I can form a core but some people can’t?”
“Why do have two eyes but see one thing?”
"How are babies made?"
”Are snakes alive ribbon or is ribbon not alive snakes?”
”When am I a grown up?”
"Why does everyone say my food is spicy?"
"Do you think I could train a chicken?"
”Baba were dragons still around when you were little?”
Some questions were more absurd some were amusing, but all received answers to the best of the Wens' ability, except for the third to last question, they weren't stupid and no one wanted their head to be put on a pike.
Of course, sometimes his curiosity was troublesome, there were several instances in which he vanished for hours, going off to explore on his own, and on more than one occasion the whole of Nightless City went on lockdown, always until he was found, the worst being when he'd disappeared for seven hours and was later found in the woods sitting happily in a field of fire lilies that had been planted for his mother back when she and his father had first begun their courtship.
Wen Ruohan had been called immediately with a flare (it was such a common occurrence that a pattern was created unique to the third young master Wen) and the sect leader had arrived so fast his disciples were knocked down by his violent and uncontrolled burst of spiritual energy.
At the rush of energy that announced his arrival Wen Ying had turned and smiled brightly, holding a cluster of flowers in his small fist “Look a-die! They’re Mama’s favorite! Can I give them to her?”
And all the rage had seeped away in an instant.
This supernatural calming effect the youngest son had on the Wen sect leader did not go unnoticed by anyone within the sect. With a laugh and a smile, with a call for a-die, life, and limb could be spared.
When he’d formed his core and first used spiritual energy it was the first time Wen Ruohan had truly smiled in front of anyone since his wife died.
He'd immediately ordered the beginnings of the collection of the material that would form the sword, only the best for his son after all.
—---------------
When the young boy vanished panic set in instantly.
They were not in Qishan or any Wen Sect allied territory.
And while no one knew that Wen Ying was Wen Ruohan’s youngest son, or that Wen Ruohan even had a third son, that made it both safer and more dangerous for the young boy who’d only had a fully formed core since a few days after his fifth birthday almost nine months ago and was nowhere near ready to wield it proactively in his defense, or in almost any way for that matter.
Wen Ruohan was immediately notified and the disciples prayed he wouldn’t smite them where they stood for losing track of his youngest son (it was a disturbingly real possibility).
They searched for hours, and every single person in their traveling party searched, even Wen Xu, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Wen Chao followed alongside their father or uncle as he looked for their brother or cousin.
Even after night fell the search continued and well into the next day, some of the younger disciples nearly passed out from exhaustion before they agreed to relent their efforts.
But there was no sign of Wen Ying.
They had a choice to make, stay and keep looking in the hopes of finding the boy faster, or have most of the group leave to avoid the rumors and suspicion that would accompany their delayed departure.
Wen Zhuliu left with all but five of the Wen Sect Leader's best men and the orders to protect the four remaining children and not stop until they were over the Qishan border which was just over a 14-hour flight away. The core melting hand had nodded and quickly departed, having the guards carry those who would become too exhausted to fly for the entire trip. Before departing Wen Xu had begged him to find A-Ying, clinging to his father's robes in a manner in which he hadn't in years.
The 6 men who remained stripped themselves of their identifying outer robes and dawned plain colors, bearing no ties to any sect. There was no need to draw more attention than their presence already would, hopefully the cultivation world would be able to gloss over the presence of six rogue cultivators working together, and if they couldn't, well... Wen Ruohan was sure he could make anyone who wanted to cause a fuss disappear.
The things they would do would be unspeakable.
It had been determined that kidnapping was the cause of the young boy's disappearance.
The men found to be linked in any way were massacred, and the Wen’s brutally tore into them desperate to find Wen Ying, Wen Ruohan personally killed the leaders when they finally gave the name of a town, a name extracted under the merciless use of a powerful fire talisman.
“Yiling!” they’d screamed with their last breaths, “HE’S IN YILING!”
The second the sword had separated their necks from their bodies the Wens departed once more, leaving smoldering remains in their wake.
They flew overnight, arriving just as dawn broke over the small town.
With Wen Ying already missing for so long the sect leader was turning desperate. The robes he wore were plainer still to avoid drawing attention, aside from his other ones being a bit more extravagant, they were also soaked and slowly stiffening with blood.
They searched the whole town, threatening to kick in doors and burn down houses if they were not answered.
A madame from a brothel had pointed them in the direction of the tavern at the edge of town in which there’d been an unusually high level of traffic as it had been closed and abandoned almost a decade earlier. It was a known hiding spot for robbers, escaped criminals, runaways, and others who needed to hide away from the rest of the world.
She had barely finished speaking when she found the strange cultivators already vanished from sight.
Wen Guo had kicked the door down, revealing rotted-out floorboards and cowering men.
Yet the sharpest thing to all of them was the unmistakable coppery smell of blood.
The rage that had been ignited was one that wouldn’t be unleashed again until Wen Ruohan resumed his tampering with the yin iron.
Reeking of terror, piss, vomit, and blood, the men admitted his son was gone.
“Vanished” one, draped in pale red, had gasped “like a ghost-”
“H-he was h-h-here and then suddenly not.” Wailed the youngest of the lot, dressed in plain greys.
“Why did you take him?” Wen Zihao snarled, severing a hand from its owner as the sect leader turned and began to make his way out.
“We thought he’d get us money! A simple ransom, he seemed like a noble's son!” screamed yet another, the most fortunate of all the men who’d been found considering his wounds.
“He probably ran because Yi Dong set the dogs on him when he wouldn’t tell us his father’s name!” the man in the faded red yelled, pointing accusingly at the brown-robed man.
“WHAT?” Wen Ruohan turned, blood running cold.
“YEAH! HE-”
The shout was cut short as the Wen Sect Leader’s blade cut into his throat.
The guards didn’t need instruction after that.
Together they swiftly tortured the men to the brink of death, finally ending their existence by setting them alight.
“Excuse me,” a soft voice called from just beyond the doorway. Its peacefulness was almost jarring against the violence that had just occurred.
“What.” the Wen sect leader snarled, emerging from the building, flanked by five men, all six of them still covered in the blood of the men whose bodies had not even begun to smolder. His temper was fraying and the only thing keeping him from snapping completely and eliminating the entirety of the town was the fact his son might’ve escaped and survived.
It was a hope that his mind was desperately holding onto, the one thing keeping his mind from slipping into insanity.
The beggar in front of him looked unphased, even when the stench of burning flesh began to waft from the building. She was gaunt and pale, she looked like both a vengeful spirit and a kind old lady, a grandmother some might call her had she worn a more lively smile.
“Are you looking for a young boy, about this high” She held her gnarled hand against her hip. He didn’t even have time to respond before she continued in her rasping voice “In red and white robes that probably belong to a wealthy cultivator's son and a bright red ribbon in his hair?”
The description was exact and he nodded with eyes narrowed.
She pointed up the darkened slopes that towered over Yiling “I saw him running that way a few hours ago, the evil fucks let their dogs on him. If you're lucky you might find him before he gets too far… or before the dogs do.”
He pushed past her and lept onto his sword, racing up the mountain at record speed, searching desperately for his son. This was his last hope, heavens only knew what would happen should Wen Ying not be found, or worse yet… if he was gone from this world by the time they reached him.
After what felt like an eternity, they managed to find him.
They found him wrapped in resentful energy just inside the stone statues at the foot of the burial mounds looking something bordering on content despite being covered in scratches from the rough brush that covered the mountainside and shivering slightly.
“A-Ying!” he called immediately jumping off his sword to scoop up his son and hold him close, confirming he was real and alive and finally safe.
“A-die,” he said cheerfully, crossing the barrier as if it wasn't even there. “I made friends! They kept me safe and scared the dogs away!”
The cheerful voice, the bright eyes, and the warmth of his son as he wrapped his arms around him as best he could cool the rage that had been consuming Wen Ruohan since the boy's disappearance.
“I see… Where are these friends? I’d like to reward them.”
“They’re right there,” the boy turned and pointed into the burial mounds, just past the ancient seals which were slowly crumbling away, erected by an ancestor centuries ago, was a pair of ghosts and an almost skeletal-looking fierce corpse. Looking closer he realized one of the ghosts was the old beggar woman who had turned their search towards the direction of the burial mounds in the first place.
The Wens froze at the sight but the boy in Wen Ruohan’s arms giggled and waved, earning a wave in response before the trio vanished back into the dark and heavy mists that were known to envelop the mountain even on the brightest and sunniest of days.
It was only when they returned to the nightless city and had the boy checked over by the healers did they realized the extent of what had happened.
The once brightly glowing beginner core that could be felt was now dark, yet still pulsed with power.
The third son of Wen Ruohan no longer held a golden core, but rather a tainted core, a resentful one.
It was decided, after much debate and attempts at finding cures, that this was likely the best possible outcome all things considered, though there was now a new challenge ahead, how to hide such a unique core, how to provide him with a sword, how to make him stronger.
That was a challenge for another day though, as he ordered his advisor to begin drafting a formal announcement that all discussion conferences would henceforth be held in Qishan. His sect stopped the use of dogs, with the exception of the sleek dark-furred hounds that Wen Ying did not tremble at the sight of but rather still viewed as friends. Even those were only used when necessary and all had to be trained not to bark or howl before being allowed within the walls of the city.
He would not lose his son again.
He would also, turn to the Yin Iron for answers.
Chapter 3: Right to the Throne
Chapter Text
Wen Ying could easily recall the day his brothers had left for and returned from their respective tasks.
One triumphant and acknowledged, the other changed forever, almost beyond recognition.
It was a tradition of the Wen Sect, albeit a relatively secret one, for any direct descendant to be considered an heir within the eyes of the Wen Sect they had to complete a challenge worthy of such a title before they turned 15. It was also used as a means of passage from a junior to senior disciple though that particular challenge lacked a strict deadline. Some Wen descendants never completed such a task, opting instead to become scholars or generals, aiding the sibling who did become the heir. The tasks had no real definition to them, it ultimately would be up to the sect leader and the elders if the task would be considered worthy. Occasionally a task was worthy on paper but upon execution sometimes it fell short of the mark and a new challenge was chosen if there was time or people missed their windows which often resulted in members of the main family starting their challenges far younger than 15 so they may have a chance to do it over should they fail. It was also part of why the Wen sect was occasionally known for its history of fratricide and patricide when the failure to become an heir drove the weaker-minded mad.
Wen Xu, for example, had begun his challenge at a rather young age. The boy had always been more reserved than his brothers, and his mother had been very similar, being Wen Ruohan's first wife via a political marriage arranged by the late Sect Leader Wen. Through her Wen Xu had found a love for reading and a passion for knowledge, his subsequent challenge was reading the entirety of the informational sections of the Qishan library, a task that he had begun at the age of 6 when he’d first learned to read, though the task did not become officially approved until he was 10 years old. Had he attempted to read the entirety of the library, he likely would've never finished in his lifetime as some of the books were written in languages and codes long lost to the world and the collection of knowledge was only surpassed by the Gusu Lan. It was a rather fitting task for his quiet but steadfast elder brother, it also meant he would grow up to be a knowledgeable sect leader.
Wen Ying remembered the days his brother would be locked away in some secluded corner of the library stringing together into weeks, he’d been so young that he hadn’t understood it much further than the fact that it was part of his path to becoming the future sect leader. He'd complained to Wen Zhuliu that if he had to read all day for so many years then he'd never want to be Sect Leader, which had earned him a rare smile as the infamous core-melting hand patiently explained to Wen Ying that this was Wen Xu's challenge and he need not read so much for his should he wish to do something different.
Two days before his 15th birthday Wen Xu had emerged victorious over his challenge, having still managed to work in time for discussion conferences and to improve the strength of his Qi and skill with a sword thanks to the help of his mother and servants who would sit and read to him as he went through his training, enabling him to constantly progress in his challenge.
In celebration, he and his brothers had gone to the lantern festival together in disguise with Wen Zhuliu as their bodyguard. Wen Xu had bought him his first flute, a simple dizi with a red flower tassel, QiQiang, he'd named it giving his brother a teasing grin. Enlightment and strength, named after the one who gave it to him. That was the first time he'd ever seen his elder brother cry.
—--------------
Wen Chao, however, had not been as lucky (or successful) as Wen Xu, despite the cultivation world believing him to be Wen Ruohan's heir.
He had gone to capture a Lion dog, a task that had been successfully accomplished in the past but not for many generations which is why he was allowed to use it as his challenge. Everyone was encouraged to do something different, something that made them stand out from all the rest, to shine like the sun, to be the only star in the sky. Seldom were tasks repeated for this reason, how could you embody the sun when you shared the sky and risked being outshone?
It had been a 'solo' trip and he was well prepared for it with a pair of guards and an elder accompanying him to ensure his genuine success would be documented.
He’d been brought back a few weeks later, gravely injured and barely alive, his lungs rattling with each breath and his head and neck carefully cradled to prevent further and possibly irreversible damage.
The healers quickly placed him into a medically induced coma and worked to fix the damage.
The guards explained what had happened to a silent, resigned Wen Ruohan as he waited for news from the healers.
Apparently, the second young master had originally been on track to accomplish his task. He’d successfully found a lion dog and had begun to lay out talisman work in preparation to soothe and bind the beast to aid him in the completion of his task, once the beast was bound he'd transport it back to Qishan and he would need to encourage it to take up the guarding of the family tombs.
There had been an unexpected twist, it had been part of a mating pair, and when the second Lion Dog had come tearing through the forests to defend its home and mate, (and maybe even a pup though no one could confirm such a thing as everyone was rather preoccupied) it attacked the unsuspecting second young master.
The guards had waited until Wen Chao had shown signs of being unable to complete his task, in accordance with the binding contract required of all who monitored the mission, you were not to interfere unless absolutely necessary lest the potential heir automatically fail the task. They distracted the beasts and extracted their injured second young master, doing their best to ease his pain with the supplies and skill sets at hand before swiftly returning to Qishan for him to receive proper treatment from those with more thorough training.
It had taken weeks for Wen Ying’s brother to heal, far longer than it should have, especially when one considered that Wen Chao was a cultivator.
He'd asked Wen Qing how he was and she'd pursed her lips, saying the healers would do their absolute best but she wasn't sure. He'd gone to Wen Xu next who had simply pulled him close and assured him their brother would be okay, that he would wake up.
Before they took him out of his coma the healers informed the Sect Leader that his son’s spiritual energy had been damaged in its attempts to heal the extensive damage to his body, and most importantly his head. They said his cultivation would likely never be able to reach the levels needed to be a Wen Sect Leader or anything that required a sizable amount of spiritual energy for that matter due to the strain it had put onto his core, effectively warping it.
Wen Ruohan had pursed his lips and inclined his head, he’d expected this outcome. It was not uncommon for members of the main family to die in their attempts to complete their challenge. After all, he’d lost three of his siblings that way and the other few who had passed their challenges would later die at his father’s hands when he finally lost grip on reality as he grew increasingly paranoid about one of his children overthrowing him after he had refused to relinquish power, not that it did him much good all things considered since he left his third eldest alive.
Wen Chao had been removed from his coma and upon waking it became rather clear that the boy who had once been a loving brother and occasionally a bit of an ass, was long gone. In his place, and in his body, was an angry, short-tempered, vain, and jealous man who would become known throughout the cultivation world for his cruelty and spiteful bitterness.
Wen Ying held a private funeral for who his brother had once been and mourned the relationship that would never be rebuilt.
—---------------------
Wen Ying’s task was also different from his brother’s and all others that preceded them.
He had a challenge that would likely never be repeated.
His challenge was to completely and utterly master his resentful core.
He was skilled yes, well-trained in the arts expected of a young master of his rank, and undeniably clever yet it was clear to everyone that the entirety of his potential was yet to be tapped into despite the best efforts of everyone, including Wen Qing, Wen Zhuliu, and his father, he remained unable to access all of his core's power. Some of it was wielded in the same manner of traditional spiritual energy, much to everyone's relief, but only some. Not even demonic cultivation could give him full access and control as his power over Yin Energy was not merely external nor limited to resentment. He did not speak of what or why specifically but many who were close to him could see how it tormented him, and anyone could see his frustration at his own perceived shortcomings despite being a remarkable inventor who produced countless new inventions to be used by his sect mates. No matter how much he accomplished, no matter the heights he grew to, and the expectations he surpassed it was clear to everyone that he considered himself insufficient. It's what drove him to pick the task he did, knowing full well he'd more than likely die trying.
He departed 6 months and 11 days before his 15th birthday, leaving for the Burial Mounds, the birthplace of who he was now.
No one accompanied him for his proof, for no one dared enter the cursed place, and no one even bothered to escort him there.
It was well known that he would not be able to falsify his success, he would either succeed, perish, or lose his sense of self somewhere along the way.
Stepping into the burial mounds had felt like coming home to him.
He didn’t truly remember the events that led up to his arrival there all those years ago aside from vague memories of the horrible men and the growls of dogs, but he remembered what he’d found on the other side of the crumbling guard statues.
He’d found a sea of spirits screaming their woes into a void of pain and sorrow, only to hear it echo back at them twice as loud.
He’d been approached by an old woman who called him the wrong name but treated him kindly. He had cowered behind a man who’d stood tall, a warrior, that had chased away the filthy dogs.
He remembered the safety and warmth that had enveloped him after he’d fought against it for so long.
Felt the strength and will that flooded into him, that coursed through him like he'd felt when he'd first formed his core.
It was also when he'd first begun to hear the voices, though it would take him a few more years to understand who they were and what they were saying.
He also remembered his father’s frantic arrival flanked by cultivators personally trained by him, the best of the best.
There would be no such arrival this time.
So bracing himself against the onslaught of souls, both mentally and physically, he began to whistle.
It had been a skill he’d learned early on, before his father had managed to find a way for him to wield a sword, and long before he’d figured out how to make the sword emit something that could believably pass as spiritual energy so long as no one looked too closely at it, not that anyone ever did.
He whistled as he walked, having left QiQiang back in Qishan, and noticed how easily the energy swirled as he coaxed it to trust him, almost as if it remembered that small, scared little boy who had run into its borders in an attempt to escape from the dogs from all those years ago. It almost seemed to welcome him back now, but the number of souls here was unknowable and only a fraction remembered him, so while those he knew embraced him those that didn't shunned him and tried to drive him from their home.
The second he stopped guiding the energy he risked suffocation by the hoard that he now walked slowly through.
He knew the challenge lay ahead.
And all he could feel was his eagerness to conquer it.
It took him two whole months before he successfully carved a Chenqing that didn’t shatter in his hands from stress when he tried to coax the cursed mountain with it, he'd discovered the trick of soaking the dark bamboo flute in the blood pool to imbue it with its own resentful energy, which he would later purify so just Yin remained. The result was a flute as dark as the. mountain itself, capable of withstanding the force of the energy it channeled, it also allowed him to carry a bit of the burial mounds with him when he departed. The flute let the mountain watch over him always.
At three months he managed to communicate with the spirits that refused (or were unable) to speak through something he called Empathy.
Five months in he’d almost perfected it, raising the corpses or summoning spirits, getting them to do his bidding without causing a fight, truly understanding and mastering the energy that fueled his core and mountain that teemed with ghosts from so long ago they’d been forgotten by all, even themselves. But most importantly he found how to weave his own Yin energy into the resentful energy, using the entirety of his core while making resentful energy and beings recognize him as one of their own, making it bend to his will far easier. His core grew exponentially, turning itself into his own personal reserve of Yin and resentful energy to call upon at will.
He’d left after that, deciding his remaining month and few days would have him walk back to Qishan, summoning and wielding resentful spirits in places where they didn’t naturally abound, giving him a chance to see what exactly his limits were.
—--------------
When he’d returned to Nightless City he’d been greeted by Xue Yang, who’d eagerly asked how it went. The boy had an almost unnatural interest in the darker aspects of cultivation, especially for someone so young, so Wen Ying had never taught him anything too dangerous in case the boy would use it in an attempt at vengeful justice. He had, however, made the boy study under Wen Qing for a while to get a basic understanding of medicine and hopefully the value of life.
“It was successful, I must speak to Sect Leader Wen” he had said calmly but offered a smile that assured the boy all his questions would be answered later, for now though, there was business to attend to.
Wen Ying made his way up the steps of the fire palace, his black robes a stark contrast against his later mother’s ribbon that he always wore, and even more noticeable against the white and red robes worn by the rest of the Wens.
Whispers followed him, shock, relief, and awe could all be heard if he had cared to listen.
He nodded at the guards who bowed and opened the doors to the palace, repeating the action each time as he made his way to the heart of the Fire Palace, and his father’s throne room.
Taking one final calming breath he gave a nod and the doors were pushed open and he walked in.
The chatter of the meeting that was taking place stilled.
Wen Xu caught his brother's eye before smiling proudly at him.
Wen Ying offered his eldest brother a slight smile before he returned his gaze to his father who was looking at him impassively, an expression that was becoming more and more familiar with each passing day.
“Fuqin” his calm voice echoed through the room blanketing it in an authoritative tone that could only ever be effectively used by those who had the power to back it. “I’ve returned to you triumphant, I submit myself to both you and the council to determine whether or not I am worthy of a chance at becoming your heir.”
With a nod from Wen Ruohan, the room sprung to life once more.
Healers were called in as were the elders, all who had knowledge on the subject and were considered worthy judges were brought forward to confirm the completion of the challenge just as they’d done for all the others. Wen Qing, who had already passed her challenge, was his personal healer and thus knew the most about his preexisting levels, so her voice held the strongest sway on the condition of his core.
It took an hour before the head elder approached Wen Ruohan, bowing gracefully the man spoke in a frail voice. “We have determined that the Third Young Master Wen has successfully completed his challenge and-” the man abruptly paused.
“And” the sect leader repeated, not known for his patience.
“And we, the elders and all who stand before you believe that the Third Young Master Wen should be at a level that would place him as a grandmaster sometime in the near future.”
The silence was deafening, but so was the approving hum his father gave.
“Wen Ying, Courtesy Wuxian, you are now, alongside Wen Xu, in consideration for the position of Sect Heir.”
Chapter 4: Welcome to The Cloud Recesses
Summary:
I'm testing out with mixing POVs
Notes:
sorry for taking so long to post, had writer's block
I'm also trying to finish one of my other works which has become some form of psychological torture before I post the next chapter so hopefully t works lol
but anyways, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As the mountains of Gusu loomed before him Wen Wuxian barely managed to contain his smile and maintain the cold, composed outer demeanor that was expected of him.
It had taken several weeks to convince his father to let him, Wen Ning, and Wen Qing attend the classes hosted by the Lan Clan. He’d spent hours preparing and arguing his case with his father, why it would be helpful to his further cultivation, why no one would be able to notice the truth about his core, and dozens of other unimportant reasons that he didn’t want his father to be able to poke holes in and use as a reason to prevent him from going. They'd ranged from absurd to stupid to just about every single thing that could go wrong. He'd been very careful to emphasize he would be bringing arguably the best healer in the whole cultivation world as well as a captain of the guard, all of them had been trained in combat and he could take on a good number of cultivators alone without even touching Chenqing. He'd even had Wen Qing explain that people wouldn't be able to poison his core because it would react differently than a yang core.
Eventually, the man conceded, but only under the condition one of his brothers or Wen Zhuliu and several guards escorted him there and back, knowing they couldn’t stay as that would raise suspicion as to the true rank of those who would be studying. He had also made both himself and his right-hand train a few extra rounds with Wen Zhuliu so his father could get the core melting hand's opinion too.
He’d happily agreed and bounded off to tell Wen Ning and Wen Qing.
He could still remember the relief on Wen Qing’s face when he said all of them would be able to go to the Cloud Recesses.
She had recently become Wen Ruohan’s full-time healer in addition to Wen Wuxian's as she specialized in healing around the resentful energy thanks to the constant recklessness of the Third Young Master Wen when it came to his experiments. He could see the toll it was beginning to take on her, especially as his father's temper had begun to worsen further over recent months due to his rapidly increasing use of demonic cultivation.
—--------------
It was just after his fifteenth birthday and successful return that Wen Wuxian had noticed the unusual levels of resentful energy around Nightless City, and more specifically, his father’s throne room and personal wing of the palace. There had always been high levels compared to what was to be expected but he'd never been able to hone in on what the source was, nor had they ever been this high. He’d also, just like everyone else, begun to see the shift in his father’s temper. His father had never been the most open and loving of parents, but he had shown some semblance of human emotion towards his sons, especially his youngest. Yet, as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months he grew colder and colder, eventually even Wen Wuxian couldn’t calm him on some occasions.
That’s when he’d put the pieces together. Wen Wuxian had had doubts, had hoped he was wrong, but he knew the truth was now undeniable, his father had become too ambitious. He knew his father had dabbled in resentful energy and demonic cultivations, it was from his experience and knowledge that Wen Wuxian was able to wield a sword, that with much talisman work, reinforced the illusion it was wielded with spiritual energy. His father knew what he was doing with resentful energy but recently he’d pushed the bounds too far and Wen Wuxian knew there was no going back. No reasoning would stop the headstrong man as his mind began to cloud with resentful energy and his already short temper turned even fouler. Whatever his father was tampering with, he wanted to stay far away from it, the voices that it used to call to him made his skin crawl. There was no humanity in whatever source the resentful energy that cloaked his father stemmed from. Every time Wen Wuxian was near it he felt his hair stand on end and the ghosts that quietly followed him turn sharp and cold, as if afraid, even in death, of whatever it was.
So when he’d gotten approval to leave for the Cloud Recesses for a few months, he took it eagerly knowing it as the lifeline it was.
—------------
“We’re going to be late.” Wen Qing grumbled as the group watched the sun trace its path across the sky as they flew, Wen Ning, quiet as he always preferred to be in the presence of Wen Chao, merely nodded in agreement.
“It’ll be fine,” Wen Chao huffed “They should be honored we even bothered to attend their shitty lectures at all.”
“Even if that were true it’s still rude,” Wen Wuxian said breezily, eyes dead ahead not even sparing a glance at the presumptuous asshole that inhabited his once-loving brother’s body.
He’d stopped even presenting an illusion of friendliness after Wen Chao had made a move on one of the younger disciples despite her protests. When he’d attempted to fight Wen Wuxain over it he’d ended up getting a light flogging for raising a hand against a sect heir, a reminder to him that even if the rest of the world thought him the heir, in the eyes of the sect he wasn’t even second choice. It also reminded everyone present that while their third young master may be the anomaly of his family in terms of personality, being light and cheery most of the time, he was still Wen Ruohan’s son. The rage in his eyes and the almost cheerful demeanor with which he handled the problem was a chilling reminder of just who he inherited his anger from. It was also that day that the disciples of Qishan Wen learned he was the scariest of his brothers, because unlike Wen Chao with his wanton cruelty, or Wen Xu with his explosive temper, Wen Wuxian was meticulous and brutal, with an iron stomach from his months surrounded by the Burial Mounds and entirety of his memories by the dead.
All he got was a huff as a response with the older wisely shutting up after that.
The weather around Qishan had been unpredictable and incredibly windy, as it always was in the late winter to early spring months, which had been something that had delayed their journey but they still would’ve arrived on time (albeit it would have been a bit of a squeeze) if his brother hadn’t been so stubborn and had them stop and spend the night in an inn when they should’ve flown at least another four hours before even considering stopping to rest and spend the night.
“Do we think it would be better to stop for the night and arrive a morning late but put together, or just to keep going and hope the gates aren’t closed by the time we get there is the real question at this point.” Wen Wuxian said smoothly as if the previous interaction hadn't affected his mood in the slightest.
It was almost unanimously agreed to try and make it tonight, Wen Qing and Wen Ning were well aware of how the other sects viewed the Wens, most of it through first-hand experience, and they didn’t want to make it worse. Wen Wuxian was also aware though he had a more passive experience as he had the ability to leave and explore the other sects during night hunts dressed as a rogue cultivator or a random Wen disciple with a few companions, not that he did so often as it was viewed as even more encroachment by his father.
They’d pushed on, flying up the steps only to stop a few feet from the second to last landing.
“Why’d we stop? There’s no ward, we can just keep going.” Wen Chao said, somehow managing to both sound like he was barking out an order and whining at the same time.
“It wouldn’t be the best idea…” Wen Zemin said slowly, eyeing the gates with a healthy amount of suspicion, especially since there were no guards that could be seen from where they had stopped and no major sect would leave their gates unprotected, hell, even no minor sect would.
Wen Xiaoli chimed in, “The Lan’s aren’t stupid, they wouldn’t leave the gate unprotected.”
“Can’t you feel the increasing resistance in your forward progress? This is the beginning of a ward and a very powerful one at that.” Wen Wuxian barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes, “We’ll have to spend the night in Caiyi Town.”
“Why? We can just take down the wards!” Wen Chao announced with all the self-assuredness of a true idiot.
Wen Wuxian whirled on him, eyes flashing a warning red before returning to their normal, albeit cold, silver, “If we dismantle the wards what do you think is going to happen hmm? Gusu Lan is a powerful sect and not to mention there are the heirs for every single major sect studying here right now. It would literally be an open declaration of war. Imagine how that letter to Father would go, ‘dear Fuqin, Wen Chao accidentally started a war with every other major sect in existence and a few minor ones, don’t expect us home for dinner. Lots of love P.S. Please send as many troops as you can plus Wen Zhuliu’?”
Wen Chao paled and barely managed to stutter out his agreement as the group turned and made their way back down the mountain.
Wen Wuxian paused for just a second, looking back to make sure they hadn’t been seen before following his brother, guards, and the few disciples that had been accompanying them, but keeping every sense on high alert nonetheless.
They found a hotel and quickly settled in for the night with Wen Wuxian setting the wards personally. When he was finally sure everything was fine he returned to his room, yet despite all he did he couldn’t sleep. His slight slip of control earlier could’ve gotten him killed if anyone else had seen it, he couldn’t afford to make that mistake again. So, instead, he chose to meditate, soothing his energy and ensuring the illusion of spiritual energy that surrounded him wouldn’t shatter again.
—-------------
The sun had just barely crept over the horizon, cresting the mountains and parting the clouds, basking the Cloud Recesses in its soft morning light as the bells tolled, giving the Sect its well-known 5 a.m. wake-up call.
Lan Wangji rose and began his day as he always did, with an hour of meditation before classes started at seven. He received breakfast and tea in his room before doing a final check he had everything and checking to ensure his forehead ribbon was straight before he made his way to the lecture hall.
He’d asked his Shifu if he could not attend the lectures only to receive an irritatingly well-arranged argument as to why he should be there. It was part of the reason he had let secluded cultivation early but he figured it was worth a shot. So with a carefully impassive face, he sat at the front of the room across from his uncle and brother who would be receiving the gifts.
The room filled with the cultivators from the various sects, all looking slightly tired but making valiant efforts to hide it. The hours were hard to adjust to but they would eventually get used to it he figured.
One by one the sects went up and presented their gifts, some were thoughtful, others were gaudy (cough cough Jins), the Jiangs were about to go when the door flew open, and in streamed a procession of white robes with red suns embroidered into them.
Everyone in the room stiffened in surprise as the Second Young Master Wen and his entourage swept into the hall.
There was one person dressed in black robes instead of the Wen Clan's traditional white, and hemming the edges, if one looked closely enough they'd find flowers rather than flames embroidered in a crimson thread so expensive that even the Jins reserved it for wedding robes for the main family alone. The robes were not as expensive looking as those worn by the Second Young Master Wen but were no less luxurious, in fact, the fabric was far lighter and finer, a higher quality. But no one noticed, too focused on the scene the Second Young Master was intent on creating.
Lan Wangji couldn’t help but notice the glares the Wen Sect Heir was receiving, most notably from an exhausted-looking girl and the boy dressed in black with a bright red hair ribbon.
Everyone froze, even the air in their chests seemed to stand still as people waited to see what would happen, who was going to speak first and shatter the suffocating silence.
“So this is the righteous Gusu Lan? Starting without a main sect?” Wen Chao sneered mockingly causing the blood to drain from his face and he watched as his brother's smile hardened.
In all of his envisionments of how this day would go this hadn't been one of them, this was, by far, the worst-case scenario he could've ever come up with. The only thing that could possibly make it worse was if Wen Chao, with his notorious temper, took legitimate offense to his Sect's actions. No matter how small the slight the Wen Sect was well known (and documented) to be merciless, calculating, and savage when bringing about revenge. Wen Chao being here combined with this most definitely not being a minor slight could result in a disaster from which his sect may never fully recover. Silently he prayed to the ancestors for patience and that the Second Young Master Wen's well-known temper wouldn't rear its ugly head.
“The Lan Clan was not aware of the young master’s attendance, therefore we should apologize. In the current century, the Wen Clan has not attended any of the previous lectures.” Lan Xichen replied evenly, ever polite though Lan Wangji could tell he was quite worried and it seemed to be a sentiment his uncle shared too. He sent a second prayer to his ancestors that his brother's temperament and diplomacy would be able to calm the Wen Heir should anything happen.
With a snort, Wen Chao sneered and he felt his fingers twitch for Bichen “I’m not here for your lectures, I was just escorting someone here.”
He gestured to a trio, including the girl, who was still glaring at him, who bowed and introduced herself. "Greetings Grand Master Lan, Young Master Lan, I'm Wen Qing-" she looked as if she was about to say more but Wen Chao continued speaking so she shut her mouth and cast a glare at the Wen Heir that would've made anyone with any shame or common sense wither on the spot.
Yet Wen Chao continued, unbothered or perhaps unaware of his cousin's glare, and spoke in his familiar haughty tone “If anything the Wen Clan is always educating others, so there is no need to attend this... lecture of yours.”
At that the boy with the red ribbon seemed to have enough, he stepped forward and promptly bowed to the Wen Sect Heir and the assortment of guards. “Thank you for escorting us Second Young Master Wen, we will take it from here.” The smile that was offered was sharp and dangerous and Wen Chao huffed but surprisingly shut up. Wen Qing placed a hand on the boy's forearm but made no move to stop the exchange between the Wen Heir and her companion. After a few seconds, Wen Chao huffed and made a quick yet dramatic exit but not before exchanging one last glare over his shoulder with the boy, who matched it without hesitation.
The second the Wen Heir left along with his guards, leaving just the three of them, the boy’s face split into a youthful grin. The difference between the aura being exuded just a second early almost gave him whiplash but he had years of discipline drilled into him, allowing his face to mask his true surprise. “This one is Wen Ying, courtesy name Wuxian, the head disciple of the Qishan Wen Sect. On behalf of our heir, I apologize for his disrespectful words and behavior. On behalf of my sect, I apologize for our lateness, we ran into some… unforeseen issues along our route. We thank the Gusu Lan sect for hosting such a conference and welcoming any to attend regardless of sect. This one hopes you can forgive us for our extremely unbecoming first impression.”
It was ironic he decided, a Wen without envies.
The bow that was offered was clean and precise, so perfectly timed and executed he could've sworn he saw his uncle's lip begin to twitch with the ghost of an approving smile. Once Wen Wuxian straightened himself he waved his hand and the other boy stepped forward and held out an intricately carved box.
“We are aware of the Lan Clan’s aversion to spice and alcohol, admittedly both are quite common in Qishan so we hope you accept the humble gift of our most mild teas,” Wen Wuxian explained lightly.
What they would come to find out later, when they opened the box, was that each tea came in a delicate pouch of silk embroidered with suns and clouds with a brief passage explaining the tea's ingredients, preparation, historical significance, and flavor profile. The teas, they learned, had many rare and expensive ingredients yet the most generous part of the gift was the knowledge of new healing teas they had not previously known. Even his uncle had been shocked to find a tea designed by Wen Qing herself which helped reduce resentment poisoning before treatment.
His brother recovered faster than his uncle, smiling as generously as he could he accepted the box. “Thank you, Young Master Wen, hopefully, the rest of your time here is less eventful.”
And Wen Wuxain laughed, throwing his head back slightly as he did so, the sound was bright, free, and oh so loud, and how he wanted to hate it.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to fully shy away as the boy sat in one of the many empty seats that surrounded him with Wen Qing and her brother sitting just behind him.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
“Pst. Lan Wangji!”
Nevermind.
—------------
He’d promised his father he wouldn’t draw too much attention. He’d promised he wouldn’t fail.
And here he was, on the first day not only arriving late but also having to stop his idiot brother from shoving his foot further down his throat.
Honestly, how had he managed to live so long? Walk through the door and immediately insult the sect where you will be leaving disciples? Was he fucking stupid?
He’d barely managed to keep the voices out, the ones that begged to teach his brother a lesson, and had barely managed to keep the red from flashing in his eyes. He’d dismissed him as politely as he could without giving away the true nature of his position within the sect. He’d placed his hand where Chenqing was stored next to his sword and matched his brother’s glare.
It was good he’d left Xue Yang at home, the boy was a hothead and definitely would’ve tried to attack his brother
The second he'd left the voices subsided and he turned to run damage control. Turns out that the boring diplomacy classes had some use after all.
The teas Wen Qing suggested had been the right call, and once the gift had been accepted he sat next to the Lan boy who’d been staring at him since he’d stood up to his jackass of a brother.
He was completely alone, and Wen Wuxian wasn’t opposed to making a friend. Especially one handsome enough to be a twin jade!
It was only when they’d hit the 342nd rule that he realized that the boy he was sitting next to was, in fact, a Twin Jade, the Second Jade to be precise, Lan Wangji. He internally face palmed, he’d have to be extra careful now.
Shit.
Notes:
the next few chapters will cover more time in cloud recesses so if you've got any parts you'd like to be included feel free to lmk since I've got a super rough draft rn
obv will have cold pond in some form and the waterborne abyss
Chapter 5: Lan Zhan!
Summary:
longest chapter so far, hopefully i did okay
Chapter Text
Wen Qing couldn’t recall the last time she had seen Wen Wuxian look so free. Couldn’t recount when he’d laughed this loud or this often when he’d smiled like he didn’t have the weight of an entire sect and some of the dead on his shoulders. He looked… normal, shockingly so in fact.
In Qishan he was bright and sharp, quick with his tongue and faster still with his mind, capable of enveloping all that encountered him with his overwhelming presence. The Third Young Master Wen was wild in the same sense that a blaze was, relentless and all-consuming, but oh so bright. He was also feared though, his father's reputation as a monster constantly overshadowing the Third Young Master Wen's reputation of being just, kind, and reasonable.
It was only in Dafan or when he was alone with his first disciple, Xue Yang, and her younger brother that she began to see the softer side of him. The one that hadn’t ever truly been lost, but rather concealed. When he was Wuian he was a softer flame, gentle and welcoming, enveloping those he chose to with a warm protection and more love than she’d ever thought possible from someone, let alone a son of Wen Ruohan. Yet the fierceness always remained, though it seemed calmer somehow.
In the Cloud Recesses, she found he embraced both, he had no need to hide behind the facade he showed to most of the world, and she realized that this is probably who he would’ve been if he hadn’t been born the son of someone so inhuman. That this was Wen Wuxian, not the Third Young Master Wen, nor Wuxian, but both and neither.
“You seem happy, Wuxian” she’d commented after their first day of lectures.
He’d paused in his lamenting of the rules to smile at her “I am, Qing-jie. It’s nice… nice to not have anyone expect anything from me. Sure this place is stuffy and the rules are oppressive as shit, like come on! I can’t drink? Not even the legendary Emporer’s Smile?”
She rolled her eyes, willing herself not to smile at his familiar antics, “I’m sure you’ll live.”
He grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” she barked at him, “Don’t mumble Wuxian!”
The boy stilled, almost unnaturally so, the way he did when the voices she knew haunted him got too loud to ignore.
“Wuxian?” she called, walking over to stand in front of him.
He shook himself and smiled, “Sorry Qing-jie. I was just saying it’s nice not to hear whatever it is father is working on.”
He spat the word out like it was vile and she nodded in sympathy. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was like for Wen Wuxian, who knew resentful energy in a way most never would, but even for her the resentful energy in her uncle’s throne room felt as if it was attempting to suffocate her with each breath she drew.
The door to their guest house swung open and the two of them froze, Wen Qing with her hand on her needles, Wen Wuxian with his hand on his sword.
“S-sorry it took so long.” Wen Ning stuttered as he stood in the doorway holding the tray carrying their dinner. “The kitchen was h-hesitant to give me meals to bring to the rooms… I promised to have their tray back by the end of breakfast.”
The pair sighed in relief.
”Wen Ning,” Wuxian said, putting his arm around her brother’s shoulder. “You damn near sent me into Qi deviation.”
“But, Master Wen, you don’t have any Qi to deviate?”
That sent Wen Wuxian into a fit of laughter.
“Wen Ning!” he crowed in delight. “You’ve grown bolder! I wonder who was the worst influence, A-Yang or I.”
“Definitely you,” Wen Qing said smoothly, taking the tray from her brother and setting it on the table. "Chengmei is a menace but between the two of you, it's you by a mile, dare I say it you're in a league of your own Wuxian."
"Rude," he grumbled half-heartedly, which Wen Qing pointedly ignored.
The two boys quickly sat across from her and each took their plate, digging into their meals.
“Wen Ning… you- you do know you don’t need to call me Master Wen or any of those stupid stuffy titles unless we’re in Qishan out in public right?”
The pale boy paused before nodding vigorously, “It’s a habit when we're not in the sect, I’m not used to…” he trailed off, searching for the words to explain such a unique situation.
“I get it,” the boy beside him nodded sagely, red ribbon bouncing merrily with the action. “I’m not used to people not cowering away from me or having everyone look at me like some great big exotic display.” He sighed, “It’s also nice to be away from my father and brothers.”
The group fell into silence at that. All of the main family was known for its open acts of cruelty, it had become more frequent as of late with Wen Ruohan’s temper flaring, Wen Chao being... well, Wen Chao, and Wen Xu’s aggression worsening with his ever-increasing pressure to be… even more intimidating and sect-leader-like in his bid to keep Wen Ruohan happy with him. Many Wens had long been desensitized to the constant violence as a result, something that would later become apparent to the rest of the sects through one form or another.
“Ah!” Wen Wuxian lept up from his seat.
“What?” Wen Ning looked up, his face marred with concern as he reached for his sword so he could defend them from a perceived threat.
“Be right back!” Wen Wuxian hollered as he sprinted out of the room. Wen Ning relaxed once more and met his sister's gaze as she shrugged her shoulders to show she had as much of an idea as he did, he figured Wen Wuxian had come up with another invention idea so he resumed eating.
They heard a loud thud, which made the both of them cringe and then suddenly Wen Wuxian was back, sliding into a seated position next to Wen Ning while triumphantly holding up a bottle. “TA-DA!”
Wen Qing squinted before rolling her eyes, “Really Wuxian? You brought chili flakes?”
The boy squawked indignantly and her brother laughed softly. "It's not my fault all the other sects have the tastebuds with the durability of a glass flower."
"Maybe yours are just made of steel, after all, we've all seen what you're food has done to the cooks' pans."
"That was one time!"
"That hole that was burnt into the bottom of it was rather impressive," her brother added innocently.
She hid her smile behind her teacup in lieu of responding, if only they could always be this carefree, even if they were surrounded by people who didn’t trust them, at least here, they could pretend they were safe.
--------------------
“Nie Huaisang” he hissed, catching the eye of the boy he was standing next to just outside the doors of the pavilion where the class would be held for the day.
The boy looked over at him through the corner of his eye.
“Is that a bird?!” Wen Wuxian whisper-yelled, pointing his finger at the unusual way the fabric of the Nie's robes was laying.
A smile, barely glimpsed before being obscured by a fan was all the response he got.
He returned the smile and winked at the Young Master Nie, earning him a quiet laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Jiang Wanyin appeared suddenly.
“Second Young Master Nie is bringing a friend to the lecture today.” The Wen said quietly, grinning with a gleeful look that promised nothing but trouble.
“Is he serious?” the boy in purple robes asked, turning to squint at the mostly hidden face.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” the boy responded waving his fan dramatically.
Right then, as if on queue the bird let out a soft whistled note and the trio froze comically in place.
Suddenly Wen Wuxian burst out laughing, nearly falling over had he not grabbed the unsuspecting Wen Ning who’d only just arrived from returning their dinner tray to the kitchens.
“You” Wen Wuxian, through his slowly subsiding laughter, pointed an accusing finger at the Nie “are full of surprises.”
That earned him a sly smile, and the beginning of a friendship that, one day, might change the pages of history.
The chatter quickly hushed when a boy, dressed in blue and white and with a face impassively frozen, as if carved that way, walked by.
Lan Wangji’s reputation preceded him, and while all the others saw a glare, Wen Wuxian saw a little bit further. He saw a boy not unlike the Third Young Master Wen. It was a challenge, this was a mask, an armor, a shield, whatever you want to call it. Wen Wuxian recognized someone who needed to shut themselves away from the world, someone who needed a friend more than anyone else there.
So when the doors opened and the disciples filed in to take their seats, he returned to his place at the front of the room, leaving one less seat empty beside the younger Twin Jade of Lan.
—------------
How Nie Huisang had made it through the class without getting caught was beyond him, but Wen Wuxian didn’t really need to know that particular detail.
He’d also been amazed at how much he’d been able to poke at Lan Wangji’s icy demeanor without the boy stabbing him, snitching on him, or worse yet, being caught by the boy’s uncle who was undoubtedly out to get him, he had a hunch it was due to the sect he hailed from.
He noticed that Wen Ning hadn’t sat beside him and Wen Qing, but rather, to both Wen Wuxian and Wen Qing’s delight, had sat next to the younger Nie directly behind them and seemingly had struck up a friendship. With neither of them excelling at physical tasks, with the exception of archery for Wen Ning, the two began to form a bond over the art the Huaisang would discuss and display.
At lunch he found himself, Wen Ning and Wen Qing sitting across from Nie Huaisang and, surprisingly, Jiang Wanyin who seemed to already know the boy, which made sense considering the two probably spent time at the many discussion conferences Wen Wuxian could always ever watch from afar.
“I don’t understand why you keep pestering Lan Wangji,” the Jiang Heir said, waving his hand at Wen Wuxian who innocently made a ‘who? Me?’ gesture.
“I don’t either,” Nie Huaisang said lightly “You seem to be able to make friends rather easily-”
“Even with the stupid peacock” Jiang Wanyin grumbled.
“-so why bother someone who seems like they’d rather have nothing to do with you? Or anyone for that matter?” the boy in grey finished, ignoring the Jiang heir’s interruption.
“I don't know,” Wen Wuxian shrugged, “I kind of take it as a challenge you know?”
That earned him a skeptical look from the boy in purple who shook his head slightly and returned to his meal.
“Going to say something Jiang-xiong~?” He singsonged, not one to pass up the opportunity to tease the angry grape.
“You sound just like a Jiang sometimes,” he grumbled, “it’s kind of disturbing.”
That earned a disgruntled noise of protest from Wen Wuxian, and laughter from everyone present, even Wen Qing snickered into her tea at the boy’s expense.
It was nice to see both, who she viewed to be, her brothers acting, and being treated as normal.
----------------
Sitting on the floor of the Jingshi, Lan Wangji could feel his concentration slipping once more.
Even at the cold pond, he’d been unable to calm his mind, so he’d returned to his rooms and shared dinner with his brother, doing his best to ignore the gentle prodding questions about the seminar and the guest disciples that the company brought with it, before attempting to meditate one last time before the call to rest at nine.
Yet no matter what he did, no matter how still or quiet he sat, his thoughts rang with rambunctious laughter and filled with fluttering crimson ribbons.
It was infuriating, he felt as if he was going mad, he should be able to control himself better. He was the Second Young Master of the Gusu Lan, not some undisciplined rambunctious teen, he thrived on order yet his thoughts were anything but. With a furrowed brow he tried valiantly to shove the Head Disciple of the Qishan Wen from his mind but it was all in vain.
The bell tolled, breaking him from his concentration. It was hard to believe he’d begun his second attempt almost an hour ago, he thought sourly as he slid under his covers and closed his eyes.
Yet when sleep did not come for him, like it had all his life, with a heavy sigh he opened his eyes and glared accusingly at the wall that led to the guest quarters, as if, if he could just glare hard enough at the cause of his disturbance, it would simply go away. (unfortunately for us this isn't how the world works and fortunately for us that isn't how it works in this story either :)).
Maybe he did so for an hour, or only a few minutes, he wasn’t entirely sure, finding himself unable to focus on anything other than the source of his woes.
But just before sleep overcame him he couldn’t help but have a fleeting moment of child-like wonder, for the first time since his mother passed, at what tomorrow would hold.
—--------------
“WEN WUXIAN!” his uncle called, brows pinched slightly, betraying his annoyance.
“Present!” the boy answered cheerfully, standing up as if he had not appeared half asleep just moments before.
His uncle masked his frustration well, “Let me ask you, are yaos, demons, ghosts, and monsters the same things?”
Wen Wuxian smiled slightly, a slight twitch of the lips that he almost missed before the boy responded with a light and simple “No.”
“Why not? How does one know the difference?” his uncle shot back immediately, not willing to let the Wen's Head Disciple off the hook with such a simple answer.
“Well," the boy held up a finger and raised one as he recounted each answer. "Yao are formed from living non-human beings; demons, are formed from living human beings; ghosts are formed from dead human beings, and monsters are dead, non-human beings.”
His uncle didn’t relent.
“‘Yao’ and ‘monsters’ are often confused. What is an example of each that distinguishes the two?”
“Easy,” the boy laughed brightly as if he wasn’t being almost interrogated. “If a living tree was tainted and cultivated energy until it became a conscious being and began to create trouble it would be deemed a ‘yao.’ If one was to take an axe and cut down the tree so that only a dead stump remained and that stump cultivated into a being then that would be considered a ‘monster.’”
And so began a volley of call and response which had many disciples' heads turning back and forth to watch as the Wen in black and the Lan in white went through a rapid-fire series of questions that were subsequentially answered by the former.
“What was the profession of the founder of the Qinghe Nie Sect?”
“A butcher.”
There was a slight nod, “The symbol of the Lanling Jin is a white peony, what type is it?”
“Spark Amidst Snow,” the boy rocked on his heels before standing normally once more, seemingly totally relaxed.
“Who was the first in the cultivation world to focus on the rise of his clan rather than his sect?”
—---------------
“Wen Mao, founder of the Qishan Wen Sect.” Wen Wuxian did not like the way he’d almost referred to the man as ‘my ancestor.’ He’d have to be more careful so as not to slip up, worst-case scenario he could play himself off as yet another first cousin once removed or a nephew, hopefully, it wouldn't come to that though.
The answers flowed smoothly to the rest of the disciples, but he needed to be sure not to slip up and was determined to be more cautious, to take his time.
“As the Head Disciple of the Wen Sect, you should be well versed in this so there is nothing for you to be proud of even if you answered each of those questions correctly.”
He swallowed down his laughter at such a statement, he was familiar with far more than that. He could unmake the barriers that sealed the Burial Mounds, he could recite the entirety of the Qishan Wen history from memory all the way down to the challenges his ancestors either completed or failed (courtesy of the worst tutor he'd ever had who liked to strike his hands when he hesitated- his father had cut the man's hands off and turned him over to Wen Zhuliu when he saw the cuts on his eight year old's hands). He could tell the Lans where their supposedly hidden entrance to their forbidden section of the Library Pavilion lay, he could say so much.
He could tell of the horrors he’d seen and those he’d done when he was younger and desperately wanted to please his father.
He had so much to share, so much he knew and wanted to know, yet he kept silent.
He was, despite all his loud talk and carefree laughter, always silent when it mattered.
—---------------
“As the Head Disciple of the Wen Sect, you should be well versed in this so there is nothing to be proud of even if you answered each question correctly.”
Lan Wangji couldn’t help but find that statement a bit harsh, the speed at which the questions had been asked, answered, and delivered would make many well-versed disciples stumble or hesitate, but he kept silent. His uncle knew best, and after all, this was a test.
“There is an executioner with parents, a wife, and children, but before he died he executed more than one hundred people. He died suddenly in public and, as punishment for his deeds and so as not to transfer the dead's resentment was left on the streets for seven days. With the repressed energy of resentment, he started to haunt and kill those he'd once served. What should be done?”
Wen Wuxian was silent.
After another beat, his uncle turned to him.
“Wangji, tell him what steps should be taken.”
He nodded his respect and stood before beginning his answer in a monotonous voice, refusing to look at the boy beside him. “First, Liberate, then suppress, and lastly eliminate. The initial step is to utilize the gratitude of his relatives to grant his dying wish and allow him to release what he could not let go of. Should this be ineffective or unachievable, suppress it through the means available. If the crimes were extremely wrongful, and its energy of resentment does not dissipate, exterminate it completely.”
“Not a single mistake was made.”
It was not pride in his uncle’s voice, arrogance was forbidden, but the slight incline of his head showed his approval of the response.
He was about to begin the motion to return to his seat when suddenly Wen Wuxian spoke.
“I have a question.”
“Speak,” his uncle said, barely curbing the sharpness of his voice.
“Although ‘Liberation’ often comes first, it is often impossible. ‘To grant his dying wish’ sounds so simple but what if his wish was to, say… kill people for revenge?”
“Suppression assists liberation, should that fail extermination would follow.” Lan Wnagji said slowly, he was unsure why the Head Disciple of such a powerful sect would be unfamiliar with such a concept. Perhaps they went right to suppression and extermination in the Wen Sect? They were, after all, in charge of the largest area of any of the sects so they might not always have the luxury of dealing with cases in such a manner.
Then came the words that likely tarnished the last bit of Wen Wuxian's chance of being in Lan Qiren's good graces.
“What if someone was to wield it?”
“Excuse me?” his uncle choked on the words.
Lan Wangji couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance he'd misheard the boy. His hearing had always been impeccable but there was surely no way the Wen's Head Disciple had just asked his uncle that, especially in such a jovial manner.
“What if,” the boy repeated, head held high and eyes locked on his Shifu’s “someone, a demonic cultivator, a heretic, was to wield that energy? Is that not a fourth path?”
Lan Wangji stiffened, the point was technically valid but the clarity with which the question was asked was disturbing. The lightness in Wen Wuxian’s voice did not match the horrors of which he spoke.
“You would suppress it! To even suggest something outside these three steps is something that steps outside the boundaries of ethics and morality found within a stable mind!” His Shifu looked slightly purple, he silently prayed they wouldn't need to send for a healer.
“So the energy is unusable in any sense?” the boy asked calmly as if he was just discussing the weather and not heretical things.
“YES! There is no way to ensure the energy will obey or even leave others unharmed!”
“Wha-”
“Get out!” his uncle shouted, throwing his scroll at the boy who deftly knocked it away as if it were merely a pesky fly and not a sizable bit of text that had just been hurled at him.
The room was stunned into silence.
He could not recall the last time he’d seen Shifu look so angry. Even when the Lan Elders had told him he couldn't see his mother anymore, his Shifu had managed to keep some semblance of composure, never before had he turned red, let alone purple with anger and frustration.
Glancing over at Wen Wuxian he found himself barely able to stop from doing a double take, the boy showed no signs of even acknowledging the outburst that had just occurred aside from lifting his hand, come to think of it he hadn’t seen Wen Qing flinch either where she sat at the edge of his peripheral, even when the text had landed on the ground beside her. Instead, she, her brother, and Wen Wuxian maintained their perfect posture and didn't react.
“Very well,” Wen Wuxian bowed low and courteously, perfectly executed, but Lan Wangji couldn’t help but feel it unnatural. This boy had been nothing but an unstoppable force since he’d first arrived, alive in a way he’d never seen before. The calm and impassive presence beside him couldn’t possibly be the same Wen Wuxian who’d pestered him relentlessly for the last few days, could it? “I will do as Grandmaster Lan has requested.”
And with that, he simply turned and strode out of the room, robes gliding softly behind him, their gentle rustling against the floor was the only sound that proved he was real and not a ghost or some other sort of otherworldly apparition.
It was only once the doors had shut behind him that the spell seemed to break.
His uncle took a shuddering breath, collecting himself, and said “Class dismissed.”
He listened as the disciples filed out quickly behind him, finally just as he was about to stand and leave his uncle spoke.
“Wangji.”
He hummed in response but turned to face his uncle.
“Wen Wuxian will copy lines in the library as punishment starting tomorrow, you are to supervise him and make sure he- he-” his uncle gave up with a huff and waved his hand to dismiss him. "I will send you the specifics later."
He nodded “Yes Shifu.”
As he made his way out of the pavilion and down the path he found the Wen siblings speaking with Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin, Wen Wuxian was nowhere in sight. Slowing his pace he searched for Wen Wuxian to inform him of his punishment, not to hear what they were saying.
“I can’t believe he just left!” the Nie laughed, “And Lan Qiren’s face! Could you believe it? He matched Jiang-xiong's robes!”
“H-he’s always been bold,” Wen Ning spoke softly but his voice still carried on the wind.
“I’ll say,” the Jiang snorted, “if he wasn’t your head disciple, he's mouthy enough that he could’ve been ours!”
“Hello Young Master Lan,” Wen Qing said flatly, voice betraying nothing but served in alerting the rest to his arrival.
“Uncle has determined Wen Wuxian will copy the rules tomorrow in the library pavilion, please inform him to arrive promptly at seven in the morning.” He said smoothly and couldn’t help but notice the look Wen Qionglin gave Wen Qing, though he couldn’t decipher the meaning.
“We will.” Wen Qing replied, “Good day Second Young Master Lan.”
The polite dismissal was not lost on him and he quickly left, making his way to the Jingshi to get some much-needed peace.
—--------------
“Wuxian, you’ve got punishment starting at seven tomorrow morning.” Wen Qing said coldly when she finally found the evasive boy sitting in the back paths of the sect.
“Where?” he barely looked up from where he was staring at the grass he was knotting in his hands.
“Library pavilion, you're just copying lines.”
His shoulders slumped in relief, “That’s good, if they had a physical punishment I’m not sure I’d be able to heal it fast enough to avoid suspicion.”
Wen Qing merely hummed her agreement, walking to stand beside him, “If you knew that then what the hell were you thinking?”
“I wanted to know how the rest of the world sees it, I… well you know how it is.” his voice dropped low, “Everything I know is through a different lens and no one is truly willing to call me that, at least not to my face. And they obviously wouldn’t say anything about my father, so I guess I just wanted to hear what I knew someone to believe without having to worry about it being sugarcoated.”
“Oh,” she said softly.
“It was stupid, I should know better, I need to think of the consequences and we aren't in Qishan. I know, I know” he grumbled, standing and brushing his robes off.
“Wuxian, you know I’ll always give you the truth, right?” she said, tone still uncharacteristically soft.
“I know Qing-jie,” he smiled tiredly before shaking himself and brightening up once more, “So! How about lunch?”
She whacked him upside the head, or at least attempted to considering he dodged it with a laugh, all the solemness of thhe previous moment forgotten.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
—-------------
At seven sharp he plopped himself behind the desk across from Lan Wangji, noting the way the other didn’t even look up or acknowledge his arrival.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat a bit louder than necessary and the boy across from him’s head shot up, he smiled as they made eye contact and asked in the most innocently bored and sincere tone he could muster “Is there a book I can copy from? My memory isn’t the greatest.”
“You- Never mind,” the Lan sighed, before pointing at the book on a desk to their left.
Chuckling internally Wen Wuxian got up and retrieved the book, it was nice to know he could still move quietly enough to surprise a Lan, and a Twin Jade no less! His training was exceptional but it was still quite something to get the upper hand on such a skilled cultivator.
He groaned when he opened the book and so the small calligraphy strokes crammed onto every page, “do I really need to write all of this?”
“Uncle said Virtue and Conduct.”
“But those are the worst sections!”
“Mm,” the Lan hummed flatly, not looking up. “Copy.”
Sighing he lifted his brush and began to copy the first character.
--------------
“Those are some great characters!”
He ignored Wen Wuxian, if he pretended he wasn’t there then maybe he would be silent and copy the rules and put the both of them out of their misery a little bit faster.
The boy fell into blissful silence and Lan Wangji internally sighed in relief.
Yet it was not to last.
Apparently, Wen Wuxian didn’t do too well with silence... or boredom.
“Wangji!”
He ignored him.
“Lan Wangji!”
Again he acted as if he had not heard the Wen setting across from him, barely a few strides away.
“Lan Zhan!”
He paused his writing and looked up at the use of his birth name, gaze minutely harder than normal. How dare he? How dare this disrespectful, loud-mouthed, larger-than-life, infuriatingly lively, and cheerful ray of sunshine Wen-
“Don’t look at me like that! I only called you your birth name since you didn’t answer when I called you Wangji.”
Had this hyperactive and seemingly carefree boy managed to notice his barely-there expression change? something that only his brother, and occasionally his uncle, had ever been able to achieve?
“If it makes you feel better you can call me Wen Ying!” the boy said brightly, as if Lan Wangji had dignified him with a response.
Lying was forbidden, so he couldn’t say no. Couldn't say he didn’t want Wen Ying's friendship, not with the way he felt his chest sting a little with the longing for companionship with his peers he’d long been denied due to his icy exterior.
“Sit up straight,” he said instead because Wen Ying’s posture truly was atrocious.
The boy did so.
-----------------
After writing for hours Wen Wuxian finally asked the question that had been bugging him for even longer.
“Lan Zhan, let me ask you a question. Do you truly hate me that much?”
The boy across from him stayed silent for a moment and he was about to repeat his question when the Lan finally broke his silence.
“Report back tomorrow for your punishment.”
“More punishment?” he couldn’t help but ask in disbelief.
“You are to copy the rules for a week.”
“Very well,” he took a quiet calming breath through his nose. “Have a good evening Lan Zhan.”
And with that he left, not telling the boy that the hours of silence left him alone with all the voices of resentment that lingered faintly at the edges of the wards. Did not speak of the voice from the back mountains that made his skin crawl and begged for him to welcome it in.
He would tell Wen Qing, and she would probably tell him he earned it before making him the calming tea like she had since he was little.
—--------------
The week passed quickly, yet Wen Wuxian poked and prodded and pleaded to no end.
Some days he’d slip notes across his desk or need to be silenced after being annoying.
Other times he would speak quietly, just soft enough that Lan Wangji couldn’t bring himself to silence the boy, and if he paid attention he’d hear Wen Ying speaking to himself, reading the rules aloud, or on the rare occasion humming an unfamiliar tune.
“Lan Zhan?” he’d asked quietly on the last day, voice lacking its usual confidence.
He hadn’t spoken but had looked up, finding the other’s lack of usual bluster surprising and almost unsettling.
“The Lan Sect is well known for its musical cultivation… would there be a chance I could learn a healing song or two? Nothing powerful, I don't want you to think I'm trying to stick my nose int your secrets! Just something that's enough to keep someone alive long enough to get help.”
“No.”
His voice was so cold it surprised even him.
“Please? You wouldn’t even need to teach me! I’d just need someone familiar with the Dizi to teach me! Or you could just write the score! You can watch me the whole time if you want to make sure I won't copy it or something too!”
He’d silenced the boy at that.
Later, when he’d reflected in the Jingshi he couldn’t help but wonder what a Wen would want a healing song for, especially one as well-liked and as close to the prodigy Wen Qing as Wen Wuxian.
The boy did not attempt to speak again, even when the charm wore off and Lan Wangji was just about to tell him to come back tomorrow to finish if he had not when he found a paper drifting into his view.
It was a portrait, beautifully done with a fire lily added behind his ear as a bit of whimsical touch.
“I hope Lan Zhan can forgive this one for not starting off on the best foot, I truly want to be your friend.”
He looked up at that admission, a bit faster than he would’ve liked to. He didn’t know what to say and the Wen seemed to realize as much.
“Have a good night Lan Zhan, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
“No classes tomorrow,” he said before he could stop himself.
“What?”
“Mm, Shifu will be out on sect business for the next few days.”
“Oh!” the boy said, “well in that case, I’ll see you around.”
And before he could respond the boy was gone.
Chapter 6: Loquats?
Summary:
idk this was written in like 5 hours
Chapter Text
He woke up early.
Not early as in before noon, since he was well renowned within Nightless City for not being a morning person, but early as in even before the Lans, before the sun had even begun to creep over the horizon and grace the world with its light. He woke so early that he was sure he was the only one awake. He woke up in the same way that he did back in Nightless City when his father had been experimenting with Resentful Energy the night before.
He swore he could hear something call to him, a different voice than the normal ones that spoke to him no matter what he did to silence them, rather it was warbled, a bit water-logged almost like he was hearing someone speaking to him from above the surface while he was far below. It was also distant, it was probably why he hadn’t been able to hear it sooner. Ordinarily, he would try a meditative form of empathy and communicate with the dead to try and find the source, but this wasn’t Qishan and he couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t Wen Ruohan’s son here, he was the Head Disciple, and for a sect that wasn’t subtly despised either. He’d always known of the bad reputation but even in a sect that wasn’t supposed to gossip, he could occasionally hear the words of disgust and fear, and could feel the lingering resentment of both the living and the dead.
All of that without them knowing his true nature, he’d surely be killed for what he was should anyone discover the truth about him.
So, rather than risk his and his friend’s lives for non-critical information about some random resentful energy, he wrote a letter.
He wrote to his father, briefly summarizing what he’d learned and that he was grateful that there was a break in the lectures due to the regional discussion conference to be held by the Nies, he also wrote that he had yet to fully explore the mountains of Gusu, trusting the man who raised him to understand what he had not said. He did not write his father’s title, he did not need to. In fact, all he did was write Fuqin in the calligraphy expected of someone of his rank and seal it with his own personal motif, a fire lily with a sun looming behind it. Anyone within his sect with half a brain would know where that letter was to go. He did not call upon the Dire Owl to deliver his message either, that would practically be signing his own death warrant, he sent it normally, knowing it would take a while longer but at least it wouldn't raise suspicion.
He then went and fetched breakfast, leaving a note saying where he was and that he'd be back soon just in case either Wen Ning or Wen Qing woke up to find him missing and panicked (he was under no illusion that his father had threatened them to further ensure his safety). He surprised the kitchen staff with his presence as they had apparently expected Wen Ning. It made him feel a bit sad, it was so natural for his friend to try and do everything for him, after all his official title was the Captain of the Third Young Master Wen’s Personal Guard, something Wen Wuxian couldn’t help but despise. Wen Ning had told him he didn’t mind, had told him he would gladly lay down his life for Wen Ying regardless of his rank. Yet Wen Wuxian hated feeling like his friends needed to be reminded who was supposedly superior and inferior. People should want to help him because they agree with him or find him to be a person worth helping, not because they were threatened into doing so.
As he took the tray with a smile and a sly joke he left the kitchens as they echoed with laughter, promising himself that he would try and take things off of his friends’ hands for the short while he could before they returned to Qishan.
—-----------------------
Breakfast was fortunately uneventful and when all the disciples were informed there would be no lectures for the day he suggested going to Caiyi town for the day.
It had been an open invitation to all, he knew Wen Ning and Qing would go, and based on the way that the Jiang Heir and Nie Huaisang perked up at the offer they would go as well.
They’d fetched their swords, and Wen Qing her needles, though Nie Huaisang left his saber saying that Caiyi was safe and besides, Jiang and Wen-Xiong could protect him if anything went wrong which earned him an eye roll and a laugh respectively.
They were just making their way to the main gate to leave when they crossed paths with the Twin Jades.
“Young Masters Lan,” Wen Wuxian said brightly, “where are the two of you going on such a wonderful day? Is there a secret spot only the locals know of that you can show us?”
That earned a laugh from Lan Xichen but Lan Wangji, unsurprisingly, maintained his icy facade and barely spared them a glance, opting instead to stare straight ahead, looking just past them.
“I’m afraid not Young Master Wen,” the elder jade smiled warmly and the group in front of him. “We’re actually heading down to Caiyi Town to exterminate the Water Ghouls they’ve been reporting.”
“Water ghouls?” he asked excitedly. “Is there any chance we could come with you? Water ghouls are quite rare in Qishan and I’d like to maintain my ability to hunt them as well as learn some pointers as it is likely you deal with them much more frequently than I do.”
“It-” the younger jade begins but his voice is quickly overridden by the chatter of others present.
“Yunmeng Jiang deals with catching and exterminating water ghouls regularly, I would like to come as well.” Jiang Cheng added, bowing respectfully.
The elder twin Jade smiled softly, “Very well, why don’t you make some preparations and I will go inform the other guest disciples should they wish to come as well.”
“Thank you,” Wen Qing bowed, something Wen Wuxian quickly mimicked. He had a bad habit of forgetting to bow as it wasn’t something he was often allowed to do in Qishan. It was in poor taste for the Third Young Master Wen, or either of his brothers for that matter, to bow to anyone aside from Wen Ruohan as they grew older, at least, not publically.
—--------------
He watched the group retreating to go and inform the others, “Brother, why did you invite them? Hunting water ghouls isn’t a game.” Once he said it he realized just how petulant he sounded, almost like a small child told they needed to share one of their toys. His ears flushed slightly at the realization, he was supposed to be above such things.
He didn’t like the knowing smile he received at that. “Well Wangji, the Jiang Heir is well versed in hunting water ghouls and I truly doubt someone would be able to become the Head Disciple of the Qishan Wen Sect, over Wen Ruohan's own sons mind you, if all they knew how to do was make a joke out of serious matters.”
His face must’ve shown exactly how little he agreed because his brother laughed softly, turning towards the training grounds.
“Besides,” his brother said with a look he pretended to not see, “you wish for him to come as well, do you not?”
He stayed silent, face frozen as he tried to formulate a response yet his brain could not come up with the words.
“I only agreed because it looked like you wanted the Wen’s Head Disciple to come with us, did you not?” the lilt in his brother's voice was just so that should he accuse him of teasing his brother would be able to play it off.
He was about to say no, in fact, he’d probably make a fool of himself because he’d be distracted by the carefree laughter and get drowned by a water ghoul. He knew his brother would laugh at that, both of them knowing his cultivation was far too high for something like that to happen, let alone kill him. But before he could even attempt to make such a pitiful argument the group returned, and with them the bane of his existence.
He couldn’t help but notice the way Wen Ying was vibrating with excitement, talking animatedly to Wen Qionglin and Jiang Wanyin. He was so enraptured with the Head Disciple that he didn’t notice that Wen Qing was observing him carefully, having picked up on his fascination with the boy too.
The group mounted their swords and took off down the mountain to Caiyi.
-------------
The town at the foot of the mountain was just as beautiful as it had been when they stayed the night after they'd first arrived in Gusu and attempted to enter the Cloud Recesses, but it was the first time the Wens' had seen the town awake and been able to appreciate it in all of its glory.
The locals moved calmly through the streets and across the water, speaking softly with one another as they did so, so different from the much more rapid and harsh local dialect he was used to hearing back in Qishan.
“Is that what their arguments sound like? It’s so quiet!” he stage whispered to the Jiang heir, nodding at a pair of merchants whose boats had collided, spilling a few jars of rice wine in the process. The two men were conversing in the same tone one would use to discuss the weather, it was quite amusing to him how different the people were here.
Jiang Cheng nodded slowly, “If they ever came to Yunmeng and got into an argument they’d probably be eaten alive.”
That made him laugh brightly as he went to buy two jars of the rice wine, “Same in Qishan, even conversations between friends aren't that calm! Hey, don’t make that face Lan Zhan! We’re not in the Cloud Recesses right now!”
The aforementioned Twin Jades’ glare didn’t lighten but his brother looked as if he was holding back a smile of amusement… and failing (and pretty miserably at it too because hey, not even the Twin Jades can be good at everything).
The group boarded ten or so narrow boats that they'd bought from a local (for twice what they were probably worth at that) and began to row towards the area of the lake where the water ghouls supposedly had gathered to sink ships.
Wen Ning and Wen Qing took one boat, Nie Huaisang was with the Jiang Heir, and the Twin Jades each had their own boats as did Wen Wuxian. The Jin heir took a separate one and the remaining boats were split between pairs of Lan disciples and one Jin disciple.
As they rowed further from the town he watched as the houses along the shore began to become fewer and further between as they made their way away from the town and towards the deeper waters.
He held a mock race with Jiang Cheng as they listened to Lan Xichen as he recalled the reports of the most recent Water Ghoul incidents.
Caiyi Town hadn’t been haunted by water ghouls for a good number of years, but over the last few months, more and more boats had begun to disappear. When they’d first cast the nets to catch the ghouls they only expected to catch one or two but had instead ended up with just under a dozen. Lan Xichen had cleansed the corpses and brought them to town to be identified only to discover none of the locals recognized them and the bodies remained unclaimed for so long that they were eventually buried in unmarked graves. A few days ago he’d set up nets again and caught 15, this had prompted him to ask his brother to come along just to be sure nothing too serious would happen as it was such an anomaly.
“I don’t think the corpses drowned then floated here, water ghouls tend to be very picky and don’t often move from where they drowned.” Jiang Cheng said slowly, earning a nod of agreement from Lan Xichen.
The Elder Jade of Lan continued to look at the water ahead as he replied. “That is correct, it’s also why I agreed to let all of you come along as there seem to be enough ghouls for everyone to catch at least one.”
“Aren’t water ghouls known for cleverness?” Wen Wuxian couldn’t help but ask, “If we keep drifting around slowly wouldn’t they just hide and not show themselves?”
“We will wait until we find them.” Lan Wangji said, his face just as impassive as always. It wasn't an answer he liked, if he was back in Qishan he would be doing this alone and would use Chenqing to harness and clean the resentful energy until it was simply Yin and then absorb it but he most definitely couldn't do that here.
The group settled into silence at that, with everyone scanning the water.
Wen Wuxian did so to keep up the bit but when he heard the tell-tale watery screech coming from under a boat he decided he might as well amuse himself if they were going to be here a while.
“Hey, Lan Zhan! Look at me!” he called barely containing his mischievous grin.
Lan Wangji, who had been sharply looking for any sign of movement beneath the water’s surface turned quickly at the call of his name. Only to see Wen Wuxian’s paddle in the act of splashing water at him. He quickly leaped over to his brother's boat, avoiding the spray.
“Pathetic!” did this boy think this was some type of game? This is exactly why he hadn’t wanted him to come along.
However, Wen Wuxian quickly kicked the side of the boat he’d been standing on, turning it over almost effortlessly. There, clinging to the now upturned bottom were three water ghouls, complete with their distinguishing swollen grey faces and sharp claws, two adults and one child from the looks of it.
Wen Ning quickly suppressed two of the three, fixing his young master with a knowing look while Jiang Cheng suppressed the remaining one.
He offered his cousin a small flicker of a smile, a silent apology. Having grown up together he knew his friend could tell when he wielded yin energy, even in such a minute way, having learned to distinguish its slightly different feel from resentful energy. It was also for this same reason he knew Wen Ning would understand his brief, nonverbal apology.
Lan Xichen, oblivious to this exchange, smiled. “Young Master Wen, how did you know they were below the boats?”
Instead of saying ‘Oh you know I have a resentful core so the energy makes noises only I can hear and it’s really creepy especially when I’m alone but I heard the water ghouls screaming and there's something else down there but I can't quite figure out what’ which was how he actually knew, he instead replied cheerfully. “Simple! The displacement on his boat was strange, his boat was lower in the water than those carrying two people and was moving slower so I figured there was something on the bottom!”
“For someone who doesn’t hunt Water Ghouls often that is quite impressive.” Lan Xichen smiled.
Wen Wuxian ignored that comment in favor of calling after the boy he’d almost drenched. “Lan Zhan, I didn’t splash water on you on purpose. Water ghouls are really clever. If I said it out loud, they would’ve heard it and got away.”
That earned him a glare, “Why did you come?”
“Because I want to help?” the boy’s head tilted in confusion.
“If you want to help then quit chattering and help!” Jiang Wanyin barked at him, which earned a laugh as Wen Wuxian’s attention returned to the nets just in time.
“I think it's moving!” a disciple called.
Sure enough, the ropes of the net began to twist and move as they began to fill.
Suddenly, thick, long streaks of black cut through the water, and the surging and swelling of the once-still water around the boats rocked them from side to side. Clawed hands began to protrude from the water and grip the sides of some of the vessels. Offhandedly Lan Wangji drew his sword and severed ten or so hands that had been clinging to the left side of his boat, just as he was about to turn and sever the ones gripping onto the right he felt a soft gust of air, heard the sounds of a blade cutting through flesh and saw a barely there dark red glow before Wen Wuxian’s sword was back in it’s sheathe.
The strange shifting in the water stopped and he turned to the Wen Disciple who was having a silent and very aggressive conversation through hand gestures and facial expressions with Wen Qing who was scowling harder than he'd ever seen anyone scowl before.
Although the sword had only been drawn for a few seconds (and while his back was turned), he could tell the blade that Wen Wuxian wielded was of a very high quality, and with it, a very high price.
“What is the name of this sword?” he asked, he didn’t know how to make a normal conversation about trivial matters but he could talk about swords and cultivation, it was one of the few areas he could be a decent conversationalist.
“Suibian,” the boy said.
Had he not heard him? Maybe he was too quiet?
“What is the name of your sword?” he asked again, this time a little more slowly and clearly, not leaving any room for misinterpretation.
“Suibian,” the Wen replied, this time with a slightly bemused expression on his face though his voice remained light.
“This is a sword,” he said slowly. “It has a spirit, to call it whatever one wants is disrespectful.”
Did the Wens not name their swords? He knew that the Wen Sect Leader’s sword had a name, was he the rare exception? Was a sword's name not supposed to be shared in Qishan? Perhaps it was too much of a personal matter?
A small sigh broke him from the train of thought.
“Think a little outside the box, won’t you?" Wen Wuxian said and he resisted the urge to glare at the boy, "I’m not saying you can call my sword any name that your heart desires, but the name of my sword just so happens to be ‘Suibian’. Here, have a look.”
As he spoke he passed the sword to Lan Wangji, who found it surprisingly heavy for the speed at which it was wielded, it was almost as heavy as Bichen, meaning Wen Wuxian was quite powerful which was to be expected considering what his rank was within the Wen Sect. There in the richly colored dark wood sheath, nestled amongst the intricately carved flowers and phoenixes were two distinct characters, Suibian indeed.
For a few moments he found himself at a loss for words, what was he supposed to do now? Apologize? Compliment the name? Laugh at the joke? He wasn’t sure if he could laugh, he hadn’t laughed since his mother died-
“You don’t need to worry about being rude, people always wonder why it has such a unique name!” Wen Wuxian says cheerfully, saving Lan Wangjii from his own inability to be normal and hold a simple conversation. “Everyone asks if there is any special meaning to it. When my father asked me what my sword to be called I had a whole list of names but I couldn’t figure out which one I liked best so instead just told him to name it whatever, as in whatever he wanted. So when it came out of the forge with these two characters on it I found it very funny! My father approved of it because it was what my mother would say whenever someone asked her opinion on something and so he liked it as well.” The boy smiled to himself at the memory, different than the ones he'd seen on the boy's face before.
“Ridiculous!”
He didn’t mean to say that, he wasn’t sure what else to say, the word had just slipped out.
“Ha!” the boy said, the small smile vanishing to be replaced by a mischievous one. “Don’t you see how fun the name is? It’s great to trick people with too!”
—----------------
“It’s coming back again!” Jiang Cheng called, alerting everyone in time for the water to become choppy and the black streaks to return.
Wen Wuxian snapped his head back to the lake, and that’s when he heard it, the sound he’d heard this morning. The call that had woken him up in a cold sweat.
A few disciples began to paddle, chasing after the watery shadows, and he couldn’t help but feel dread settle on his shoulders like a giant oppressive blanket of foreboding doom.
It reminded him of the burial mounds, not as vast or powerful, but just as angry.
Whatever this was it was powerful and dark, and he couldn’t say anything lest he blow his cover and cause an even bigger problem.
“That’s odd,” the Jiang to his left muttered.
“What’s odd?” Wen Wuxian asked, if he could get more information he might be able to figure out exactly what this was without tapping into his abnormal core.
“It doesn’t look human, sometimes it’s short and sometimes it’s long, sometimes it's massive and sometimes it’s barely there…” The boy in purple trailed off, deep in thought.
A flash caught his eye, “Lan Zhan, next to your boat!” he called.
Instantly Bichen was unsheathed once more and flew out over the water, yet when it sliced down then upwards through the water instead of bringing a ghoul with it nothing but clear water flew threw the air, catching the light as it arched.
He held the sword in his hand with what Wen Wuxian could only guess was a confused and annoyed expression on his face, or about as much of an expression as Lan Zhan made.
Lan Zhan looked as if he was about to speak when suddenly another disciple drew their sword and sent it into the water as another dark shape passed by.
The disciple tried to call his sword back yet it did not resurface, after several attempts at calling it back there was still nothing.
The error only made the boy look younger and more out of his depth than he already had.
“Su She, we don’t know what’s in the waters yet, why did you send your sword in?” chided an older Lan, voicing a sentiment that Wen Wuxian wholeheartedly agreed with.
“I saw that the Second Young Master had also…” Su She trailed off at that, seemingly realizing part-way through his explanation that he would only sound even more foolish. Wen Wuxian swallowed his laughter, Bichen, and Lan Wangji were a formidable pairing. To assume that anyone else could simply retrieve their sword from the depths merely because he had been able to call Bichen back was a truly naive idea and showed a lack of understanding of one's own cultivation levels to the point it could be considered disturbing. It was one of the first things he taught the disciples he trained, know your limits, it's okay to not be able to handle something on your own but it is never okay to risk the safety of others to spare your pride.
He turned away as the disciple began to turn a distinct shade of reddish-purple that made him resemble a radish or beet, glancing at Lan Wangji he saw the boy still intensely watching the waters beneath them.
Bichen was sent forward yet again, this time instead of cutting into the water it merely flicked the surface, bringing up a dark mass of what Wen Wuxian soon realized was fabric.
He squinted at it, hiding his slightly red eyes, the second he realized what the signature was they returned to silver and he opened them wide.
“Go back immediately,” Lan Wangji said, and Wen Wuxian was relieved he wasn’t the only person to make the realization.
“Why?” Lan Xichen asked. Wen Wuxian wanted to hit him, but this wasn’t the time to ask questions, people needed to get up now. He waved his hand at Wen Qing and she quickly mounted her sword, nudging her brother who quickly began to do the same, the two of them recognizing the gesture as the fact he recognized something they didn't.
“We’re being led to the center of the lake,” Lan Wangji said, stepping onto his own sword and floating up slightly.
Just as he fully stepped up onto his sword his boat began to sink as water rushed in.
The water that seeped into the boat wasn’t the rich green-blue it had been just minutes earlier but was instead almost completely black, looking as if their boats floating on a lake of ink.
Just in front of them, a large whirlpool was beginning to form and it took all Wen Wuxian’s concentration to tune out the resentful energy that poured out of it as it began to suck the boats in towards its center.
The clanging of metal filled the air as everyone began to rapidly mount their swords, he too stepped onto Suibian and slowly floated up, watching fascinated as the water-borne abyss began to reveal itself.
He glanced around, making sure Wen Qing and Wen Ning were up on their swords before glancing down and finding that Su She was now knee-deep in water, having been entirely unsuccessful at recovering his sword even now. Despite the obvious panic on the boy’s face he hadn’t, and didn’t call for help. Wen Wuxian chalked the reaction up to shock and quickly flew over as he descended, grabbing hold of the boy's wrists and pulling him up.
The boy, seemingly suddenly realizing the reality of the situation jolted alive and began to desperately claw at him, pulling the both of them and his sword back down towards the water with his panic causing Wen Wuxan to have to focus on Suibian staying stable rather than pulling them up and away.
Another figure appeared beside him and he found Wen Ning grabbing the struggling boy’s other arm. Su She’s panic quickly turned on the newest arrival and Wen Wuxian found the boy in white slipping from his grip as his best friend and the Lan disciple went tumbling forward into the turbulent ink-colored water.
Instantly he dropped his sword down until it hovered just above the surface, the water staining the edges of his black robes even darker and closed his eyes, sticking his hand into the violently swirling depths he sent out a silent order and some of his own Yin energy.
Bring him to me.
There was a pause, and for a moment he was worried he would need to begin to whistle, accompanying the Xiao that had now begun to play, to reveal himself to save his friend.
Thankfully before he did so the energy obeyed and he felt fabric brush against his fingertips, fisting it he pulled, dragging a half-dead-looking Wen Ning to the surface.
Beside him, Lan Wangji had grabbed Su She by the neck of his robes and was hauling the disciple from the abyss’s reach. He dragged Wen Ning up onto his own sword, holding him steady as he guided the two of them up. Wen Qing plummeted down to meet them, desperately checking a pulse and deflating in relief when she found one. She shared a look with Wen Wuxian and he knew she could see his barely controlled rage, knew she had put the pieces together as to where the abyss had come from too.
“Waterborne Abyss,” is what he said once everyone was back on land, Su She was lucky to be alive between his close encounter and how angry Wen Wuxian was. Not only had his disciples back in Qishan fucked up and created this mess but this stupid Lan Disciple had almost killed his best friend, causing him, in turn, to almost be revealed! He was silently seething and had sheathed his sword to prevent it from turning into a channel for his Yin Energy to pour out and reveal him as it was wont to do when he became unable to control his emotions. Wen Ning looked exhausted and his sister was hovering, making sure her little brother was truly okay and wasn't about to take a sudden turn for the worse and attempt to join the ancestors.
Lan Xichen shook his head with a sigh, “Then this going to be quite difficult."
Anyone with half a brain could connect the dots with how to waterborne abyss arrived, the locals were far too experienced and familiar with the lake for such a being to ever form here naturally, the only option was that it was chased here.
Once a Waterborne abyss was formed it was near impossible to get rid of, the entire lake would need to be drained, every sunken item taken out, and the bed of the lake would need to be exposed to strong sunlight from anywhere from several months to a year before it could be refilled and normal life could resume.
"We'll have the disciples herd it to a smaller lake to drain so we may lessen the impact on the people of Caiyi," Lan Xichen said after a brief pause, sounding so tired of the thought already.
“Has anywhere recently experienced a waterborne abyss?” Lan Wangji asked.
“Yes,” Wen Wunxian grumbled. “And they will be punished for this.”
“What?” Lan Xichen turned at that, Wen Wuxain guessed he was a little shocked by the easy admittance of the mistake from someone from a sect known for arrogance.
“It is the result of my disciple’s inadequacy that you are dealing with this, I will send a message home that I will punish them upon my return. I also must offer my sincerest apologies, I never intended or foresaw this happening they were supposed to move it to a small remote lake in Qishan so we could cleanse it.”
The Lans looked unsure of what to do, “You need not write home to have them punished, just ensure this will not happen again.” Lan Xichen said graciously, being far more understanding than Wen Wuxian ever expected.
“I assure you,” he repeated, "I must write home.”
“Why?” Lan Wangji said, only the slightest bit of unidentifiable emotion in his voice.
“They need to be punished,” the coldness in his voice was jarring to many of them. He held up his hand before anyone could protest such a statement, and he plowed on answering questions preemptively. “And let’s just say I don’t write home to have them punished. Have you considered that if a rumor makes it back to Sect Leader Wen that his favorite cousin’s children: his private medic, and a future captain of the Guard, in addition to his Head Disciple almost died due to some unknown disciples from the Wen sect chasing a Waterbone Abyss into Gusu Lan territory rather than the truth straight from me, he would be more than slightly displeased? What do you think would happen?”
“I see,” Lan Xichen said paling slightly at the implication. Wen Ruohan's temper was infamous, even in a sect that didn't gossip, and he knew that was the right card to play to shut down any arguments.
If only he knew, Wen Wuxian internally grimaced, that the entirety of the Lan Sect would be razed to the ground as well as countless Wen Disciples slaughtered if he, Wen Ruohan’s son, had died.
“I should’ve been the one to handle it,” Wen Wuxian groaned. “Stupid challenges, I never should’ve allowed disciples to do it, let alone those ones.”
“What do you mean Young Master Wen?”
“It was a last-minute thing, typically I lead my more senior disciples to deal with higher-level resentful beings but I was on my challenge and assigned the ones who chased it here to just push it to a remote area so normal life could resume in the town and I could deal with it when I got back.... It must've slipped my mind and they never mentioned it again.”
“What’s a challenge?” Jiang Cheng asked, having just been a silent observer of the conversation up to that point.
“In the Wen Sect, there are tests to prove disciples' skills and worthiness, these are often in solo or small group trips that can last several months, like more extreme Night Hunts. They mark the passage from junior to senior disciple as well as ranking within one’s family in some instances,” he explained, omitting the fact they were also used to determine the Wen Sect Heirs.
“Interesting, does everyone participate?”
“Yes and no, it’s not required but it is incredibly rare for someone to not take on at least one challenge, there are also different types so Wen Qing passed her challenge medically by developing one of her many famous treatments and I passed mine as a lone rogue cultivator.”
The group fell into a far easier silence after that, Wen Wuxian only mentioned the challenge in the first place because he saw the discomfort on everyone’s faces as well as the warning look on Wen Qing’s. Apparently, his temper had shown a bit more than he would’ve liked. But it was minuscule compared with what the disciples would face when Wen Ruohan received his youngest son’s letter, and what they would face when their Third Young Master returned.
When they passed by a young woman selling loquats he couldn’t resist the urge to coax her to give him one, he always flirted with the young maidens when he could. He knew what kindness and flattery could do to a person’s day but at the same time he could never do such things so openly in the Wen Sect so instead he hid his kindness under a facade of mischief, flirting, and creating things that would better the lives of others.
He’d earned a loquat, then just to make sure Lan Zhan also received some semblance of kindness he convinced the young woman to give him a second. Smiling to himself when he saw Wen Ning drop a silver piece into her boat for her to find later, just like he always did whenever Wen Wuxian got something for ‘free’.
“Lan Zhan,” he laughed, “have a loquat!”
When his offer was unsurprisingly rejected he laughed once more and tossed it to Wen Ning with a wink, receiving a small, tired, and shy smile in response.
“Jiang Cheng! Teach me how to swear in the Yunmeng Dialect!” he bounced over to the boy, leaving the Twin Jades to themselves.
“Wangji, if you want a loquat should we buy a basket?” Lan Xiichen asked him with barely concealed mischievous delight.
“I do not!” he said petulantly, going to stand on another boat ignoring the way his ears burned.
Chapter 7: No Alcohol in the Cloud Recesses
Summary:
guess who broke two bones and dislocated their hand~
me.
Cuz I was stupid
the fact i’m still posting makes me feel like I should be questioning my priorities right now. Am I seriously that much of a people pleaser? or is this going to keep me sane
Chapter Text
He woke up to the sound of unfamiliar footsteps along the gravel paths outside the guest house. He had been trained all his life to recognize danger, even someplace supposedly safe such as the Cloud Recesses wouldn’t take that constant alertness that had been ingrained in him since birth.
The smell of rice wine permeated the air and the two jars he had bought yesterday sat open on the table, emptied of their contents.
Around him was the Jiang and Nie Heirs, Wen Ning, and he knew there had been another person with them last night but it was a bit too early for him to kick his brain into gear and remember who specifically. That was a problem for another time though as he quickly shook everyone awake.
“You guys need to go, I think someone ratted us out and the Lan disciples are on their way.”
That caused both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huiasang to bolt upright and quickly scramble to gather their things and practically sprint out the backdoor upon his direction as Wen Wuxian knew the footsteps had been moving towards the front.
Wen Ning, who was still out cold, didn't even budge when he was shaken so Wen Wuxian quickly dragged him into bed and laid him down, covering him with the blanket before quickly kicking the jars under the loose floorboards where he'd originally stored them. His friend was far from a lightweight but Wen Wuxian guessed the close encounter with so much uncontrolled resentful energy yesterday had taken far more of a toll on his friend than he’d initially let on. Hopefully, Wen Qing would be able to look at him when she returned from the infirmary ward where she was helping the healers in exchange for some restocking of her personal supplies.
He’d barely straightened himself from the action and taken a calming breath when the doors opened with a burst of spiritual energy.
Lan Wangji stepped into the room, flanked by a Lan disciple.
Wen Wuxian knew immediately what was going to happen.
Lan Wangji had been the fifth member of their group last night, the fuddy-duddy must’ve woken up and remembered it was against the rules and here he was, about to deliver punishments, hopefully, the boy's memory wasn't too good and he wouldn't remember the Nies and Jiangs had also been there. Now that he thought about it the two of them had been tucked away so he likely hadn't seen them as he left this morning.
Lan Wangji grabbed him by the shoulder, fisting the fabric of his robes and dragging him out into the bright morning light.
The disciple that accompanied him made a move to go and grab Wen Ning.
“Stop,” the voice he used was one he rarely did. It was authoritative and tended to scare obedience, it was one he used to command corpses and monsters though it lacked the Yin energy necessary to do so now. Even the Lan disciple didn’t seem immune to it despite it not coming from his young master nor being under Wen Wuxian's authority in any manner, stopping just before his hand reached Wen Ning. “I’ll take on his punishment, I’m responsible for him.”
The Lan hesitated, glancing at his Second Young Master for confirmation as to stop or proceed.
Wen Wuxian couldn’t see Lan Wangji’s reaction but the disciple stepped away and he tried not to let the relief slump his shoulders. He had a bad feeling about what his punishment would be this time.
He barely managed to keep his footing at the pace the Lan had set.
Eventually, he found himself being forced to kneel right in front of the Lan’s Ancestral hall. There, in front of him were several older Lan disciples holding discipline rulers.
He felt his stomach drop at the sight.
He relied on resentful energy to heal, something he couldn’t draw on here in the cloud recesses. He could maybe use the spiritual energy that lingered or take a few small transfers from Wen Qing, but there was nowhere near enough of it for him to be able to heal at a convincing rate and the process of converting Wen Qing's Qi was long.
“Wuxian!” Wen Qing appeared, Wen Ning just behind her and looking worse for the wear. He didn’t even need to look at the healer to know that rage was all but pouring off of her, he’d promised he’d be careful. He’d only brought out the wine because the voices were so loud, practically rattling his brain with their volume and Wen Ning looked like he needed to relax too. He hadn’t expected the Jiang or the Nie, he certainly hadn’t expected the Second Young Master Lan either. “What in the name of the ancestors were you thinking?”
He’d tell her later.
“Young Master Wen-” Wen Ning stepped forward but he was held back. The boy glared at the disciple who stopped him, “Let me take the punishment, it was my fault, not his!”
“Wen Ning! ” he said, using the voice of the Third Young Master Wen for the second time that day. “You are not to do anything. This was my fault and you are my responsibility. I will receive the punishments, understood? ”
Those standing around looked completely shocked, the force behind the words was a sharp contrast to the usually cheerful and carefree Wen Wuxian many had come to know and begrudgingly love.
“For Wen Wuxian one hundred and fifty strikes, for Second Young Master Lan, seventy-five strikes as punishment for breaking the rules regarding the consumption of alcohol.” The disciple read calmly as if he was just talking about the weather and not about beating his Second Young Master and the Third Young Master Wen though he didn't know Wen Wuxian as anything other than the Head Disciple and a rule breaker.
He fixed his gaze straight ahead just as he felt the first blow land.
Beside him, Lan Wangji was receiving half as many blows but they were no softer.
“ONE!” the disciple called.
—--------------
“What was that?” Nie Huiasang whispered to Jiang Wanyin from where the two stood beside Wen Ning and Wen Qing watching the two kneeling figures be struck.
“What was what?” the boy in purple whispered back.
“That voice,” Nie Huaisng said. “Wen-Xiong sounded like a general don’t you think?”
The Jiang nodded his agreement
“He didn't want me to argue with him,” Wen Ning muttered. "He didn't want there to be a chance the Lans would let me take a punishment."
“But why? He would be taking fewer hits if he let you be struck too,” Jiang Wanyin said slowly as if making sure he'd understood what Wen Ning was saying.
“Because for all his troublemaking Wen Wuxian is very protective of those he cares about.” Wen Qing said, annoyance obvious in her voice, but there was also a bit of worry that she’d failed to conceal. “My brother has been ill as of late and the Waterborne Abyss likely didn’t help, Wuxian knows this as well, probably better than most.”
“So he’s taking on the punishment to keep you safe?”
Wen Ning nodded glumly, eyes never leaving his friend, and third young master, kneeling in front of them.
“He seems to be handling the hits disturbingly well.” Jiang Wanyin commented, “And they aren’t going easy on him either.”
Everyone's attention turned back to the boy, despite being struck thirty-four times so far he didn’t even flinch. There was no indication he was even aware of the blows that were hitting him.
Beside him, Lan Wangji maintained his usual icy facade.
But by the sixty-seventh blow, they could see the Lan was beginning to crack.
Yet Wen Wuxian continued to stare blankly ahead, not acknowledging the strikes or the pain he was most certainly in.
—----------------
“ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SIX”
“ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN”
“ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT!”
“ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE!”
“ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY!”
When the disciple called the last number Wen Qing could see the blood soaking through the white robes all guest disciples had to wear, Wen Wuxian had been sure to comment on every opportunity that they looked so much like mourning robes.
She tried not to flinch Wen Wen Wuxian finally stood, not showing any indication of feeling the blood that was surely running down his back.
“Is that all?” he said brightly, Wen Qing could only imagine the pain he was in but also knew he’d experienced far worse in his life and the boy would be damned if he ever showed his pain, back in Qishan it would be used against him.
“Wen-xiong what are you made of? Iron?” Nie Huaisang asked dramatically from beside her and she fought against the urge to smile. If only they knew.
“Come on Wuxian,” she said taking a step forward, her brother did the same, grabbing a hold of the boy’s arm in case he ran out of stubbornness and keeled over into the gravel.
She brought him back to their guests' house as quickly as she could manage and had Wen Ning lay the boy down.
“Take his robes off his back before the blood clots it to him, I’ll get the ointment. Wuxian, behave.”
She moved quickly, grabbing her bag and needles in case the worst happened.
When she returned his back was exposed, covered in already forming bruises and gashes.
“Wen Wuxian you fucking idiot!” she cursed as she set about her work, cleaning the wounds carefully.
“Sorry Qing-Jie,” he said slowly as if each word was laborious, which, based on the state of his back, was probably the case.
“Don’t move.” she hissed slathering a cooling salve all across his back. “What were the two you thinking? No Wuxian, you’re not going to talk. A-Ning will explain.” her words were barbed and Wen Ning shifted nervously before beginning.
In a small voice, he explained “Well Young Master was saying he wanted the voices to away, the ones-”
“Yes I know about them, don’t say it!” his sister snapped, there was a chance someone was listening, not even the Lans, in all their righteousness, trusted the Wens.
“O-okay, well he wanted it to stop so I tried to distract him. He asked if I heard anything in the Abyss and I said it was just a bunch of wails and if that’s what he always heard then he was one of the strongest people I know.” He took another breath and continued “Young Master Wen said ‘If only I’d be so lucky,’ then opened one of the bottles of rice wine and offered me some. He didn’t want to get drunk he just wanted a little peace… then the Jiang Hier and Nie Huaisang showed up then later on the Second Young Master Lan and here we are.”
She sighed and pinched her brow, “Wuxian, you know you can’t heal as fast as you normally do here.”
“I know Qing-Jie,” he paused and tilted his head as best he could. “They’ve yet to cleanse the Abyss, worst case scenario you can just throw me in the lake.”
“That was a terrible joke.”
“HEY!-”
A knock on the door cut the conversation short. Wen Wuxian sat up and pulled his inner robes on loosely before nodding to Wen Ning who opened the door, immediately stepping into it to shield whoever was there from the scene inside.
“Young Master Lan…” he said loud enough to alert everyone else as to who their visitor was.
Wen Qing and Wen Wuxian exchanged a look.
“Let him in,” Wen Qing said calmly when she received an approving nod.
The Lan Sect heir stepped into the guest house, bowing politely “Greetings, I heard what happened from Young Master Nie, he was worried for his friend.”
“It was understandable considering your Second Young Master saw it fit to have him struck one hundred and fifty times,” Wen Qing said in an even tone, but the underlying rage was not lost on the Elder Twin Jade who flinched at the words.
“That…that is unusually high," the Lan heir edged.
“It’s not too bad,” Wen Wuxian said slowly, walking over to join them.
“What are you doing? Go sit back down you’ll reopen your wounds!” Wen Qing hissed.
“If young master Wen would like there is a place in the Cloud Recesses high in spiritual energy, it would help you heal faster.” Lan Xichen offered, it was the least he could do.
“Are you sure? Those places are of great importance, and I’m sure you’re elders wouldn’t want someone of my Sect’s reputation in someplace so important…I wouldn’t want to cause problems for the future Lan Sect Leader.” The boy looked unsure.
“I’m positive, I will personally escort you to the Cold Springs to make sure you take the most efficient route and no one questions you.”
“I-” Wen Wuxian began but upon catching Wen Qing’s gaze seemed to think the better of it. “Thank you, Young Master Lan… I’d bow but I don’t think I’m able.”
The Lan winced in sympathy, “No need, follow me.”
—----------
The air was full of energy, he could feel it when he breathed it in. He might even be able to present the illusion of a normal core without drawing on any resentful energy if he could stay here long enough.
Once he was sure no one was around he gently peeled off his robes, hissing as he did so. He almost regretted insisting Wen Ning stay behind and get some rest but he eventually managed.
He folded his robes and placed them neatly on the bank before stepping into the water, shuddering as its icy waters enveloped him up to his knees.
“Goddamn Lans and their stupid cold,” he hissed as he slowly waded deeper, eventually his body adjusted and he sat down, back to a rocky outcrop, careful not to let the stones press into his back and closed his eyes.
Chapter 8: The Danger of Daggers
Chapter Text
He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d decided to bring the boy to the discipline pavilion for punishment.
When he’d walked to the guest quarters where the Wen's were staying, and where he'd drank alcohol last night, it was with shame and anger, that he needed to be punished but so did the boy responsible for the whole mess. He walked silently down the path at a brisk pace, running was forbidden but he didn't want to give the rule breakers a chance to hide the evidence or make an escape, not that they'd be up at this hour anyway, the only reason he had woken up was because of the five o'clock wake up that had been drilled into him for as long as he can remember, even when sick his body responded to the daily rhythms of his sect.
He’d entered without warning so as to not alert them and found Wen Wuxian already awake with an unreadable expression on his face, Wen Qionglin was still out cold and the other two people who had been drinking last night had vanished, he mentally kicked himself for not trying to find them before he left so they could be punished too.
He’d grabbed Wen Wuxian by the shoulder and was shocked by the lack of resistance from the normally spirited Wen who let him fist his robes and bring him outside.
But when Lan Enlai had gone to grab Wen Ning a voice spoke in a manner which he could only truly describe as alarming, authoritative, and wholly unexpected.
“Stop. ”
It had been a command, spoken in the voice of someone who was used to being obeyed, it was a tone that belayed dire consequences to any who dared question such an order. It almost reminded him of the type of voice that was used when the Lan Elders had issued punishments and commands yet Wen Wuxian's voice had even more power behind it. He’d almost dropped Wen Wuxian in his shock at the boy’s sudden change in voice, even Lan Enlai had frozen in response to the demand.
“I’ll take on his punishment, I’m responsible for him.”
Wen Wuxian had sounded tired, yet there was something in his voice, something Lan Wangji couldn’t quite identify that made him signal to his disciple to stop and let Wen Ning sleep. He told himself it was because it would be unfair to so harshly punish someone for their first offense. Especially when they’d likely been swept up in the unstoppable force that was Wen Ying. Yet deep down he found himself a little alarmed as to when such a free-spirited and light-hearted person would need to issue an order with such a finality.
He paused for only a moment before he set off for the Ancestral Hall, half dragging half guiding Wen Wuxian after him. The boy did a surprisingly good job keeping his footing which had, though he’d never admit it, caused him to speed up just a little bit more making the boy stumble slightly yet managed to regain his footing once again much to his dismay.
When they’d arrived in front of the hall he’d shoved the boy to his knees before moving to kneel several feet away beside him. He could see Wen Wuxian stiffen slightly at the sight of the elder disciples holding discipline paddles, hopefully, the boy would learn his lesson.
“Wuxian!” he didn’t glance over at the Wen Healer, nor did the boy kneeling beside him. “What in the name of the ancestors were you thinking?”
He almost felt bad for the boy, Wen Qing was a force to be reckoned with, that he’d learned in his few and brief interactions. She was incredibly sharp with both her tongue and temper and he could only guess what Wen Wuxian would be in for once he was through with his punishment. That combined with the venom with which she'd spoken belayed just how angry she was, but he also could've sworn her voice belayed a touch of fear as well, though he wasn't sure why. Yes, Wen Wuxian was her friend but the strikes wouldn't kill him, maybe the boy would finally learn to obey the rules too.
“Young Master Wen-” Wen Qionglin stepped forward at that and Lan Wangji almost turned his head as the normally timid boy was held back. He was shocked when he saw Wen Qionglin glare at the disciple who stopped him, and then, to his further surprise the boy demanded “Let me take the punishment, it was my fault, not his!”
“Wen Ning! ” Wen Wuxian barked, finally turning his head to look at his friend. “You are not to do anything. This was my fault and you are my responsibility. I will receive the punishments, understood ?” he tried not to flinch at the sharpness in Wen Wuxian’s voice, once again startled by the contrast from the light-hearted and troublesome boy who’d come to torment him throughout the guest lectures. Was this what Wen Ying was like back in Qishan? He couldn’t help but wonder. Was this what was needed in order to survive? He hoped not. He did not like the idea of what kind of environment would require an anger that fierce, a tongue that cold and merciless in its words.
He returned his focus straight ahead just as the disciple in charge of reading the punishment spoke.
“For Wen Wuxian one hundred and fifty strikes, for Second Young Master Lan, seventy-five strikes as punishment for breaking the rules regarding the consumption of alcohol.”
The blow that struck him was expected and he took a slow breath, reducing the pain and clearing his mind in order to prepare for the next strike.
Beside him, Wen Wuxian, who would be receiving twice as many strikes as he would, didn’t even make a sound.
“ONE!” the disciple called.
—----------------
When the seventy-fifth blow had been announced he almost collapsed in relief, even though the disciples had used th paddles, the ones that wouldn’t disable a cultivator after only five blows like the strongest whips would, they had been used with a great deal of physical force.
He’d stood slowly, careful not to let his pain show, he’d earned this, he was not supposed to break the rules, he should’ve known better. He is the second Young Master of the Gusu Lan, he should be above such stupid and childish mistakes, he was supposed to be an example, and have better self-control.
He bowed, and just as he was about to turn and walk away he realized something.
The boy who had been kneeling beside him all this time had not made a single sound.
Not a harsh breath, not a gasp, not a whimper.
Nothing.
Just silence.
“SEVENTY-SIX!” the disciple called, he then heard the ruler strike something solid but no sound followed after that. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, not even pausing as he turned to make his way to the Jingshi. He didn’t need to. The image of Wen Wuxian, kneeling on the gravel eyes straight ahead, making no sound, conveying no emotion, simply taking the hits, would be forever seared into his memory.
As he walked back he kept seeing it, the glazed-over eyes, the rigid back, it was as if the boy was a corpse, had he not seen him breathe and blink every few seconds he might’ve believed the once lively Wen to be so.
"SEVENTY-SEVEN!"
It made his insides crumple in on themselves in a way he had never felt before. It was not guilt. Guilt would be if he’d wrongfully punished someone. He and Wen Ying had broken the rules. So why did he feel this way?
"SEVENTY-EIGHT!"
He pushed open the door slowly and gently peeled off his outer and inner robes before lighting a stick of incense and taking a seat. He would meditate, clear his mind, then he would go to the cold spring.
—--------------
He’d sat for an hour, maybe longer even, he wasn’t sure. He was sure that he had been unsuccessful, he could still see the boy who’d offered him nothing but friendship and trouble, who’d been so alive, he could still see the dead look in his eyes as he took the hits, the hits Lan Wangji had inflicted upon him when he'd brought the Wen for punishment. In some way maybe this was his punishment for being too harsh, to remember the moment he broke someone's spirit.
He stood, pulling on a fresh set of inner and outer robes, internally grimacing as he did so, maybe he would have more luck in the cold spring, at least there he’d be able to heal faster.
He’d walked the familiar path to the spring, Bichen in his hand and head held high. The Lan Sect forbade gossip so word wouldn't spread of his punishment alongside the Wen Sect’s Head Disciple, and by the looks of him, they’d never guess it either. He still kept his stone-cold facial expression, walking without any sign of the discomfort he was in. The disciples greeted him politely as he passed, just as they always did, before quickly moving on without any further interactions.
If they’d been Wen Ying they would’ve started pestering him, asking him questions as if he mattered as a person rather than their Second Young Master. He was caught off-guard by the bitterness behind the thought. The quick greetings had never bothered him before, so why did they bother him now? When had it ever mattered if they asked how his day was going or if he wanted to go on a trip to Caiyi Town with them next week?
“Did you hear?” He heard the soft voice from around the corner.
“Hear what?” came the equally quiet response.
“About the Wen Sect’s head disciple?” that made him slow his pace slightly, why were they speaking about Wen Ying?
“No, what happened?” came the eager yet still hushed response, as if they worried someone could be listening. A reasonable concern considering what he was doing right then.
“He was struck with the discipline ruler one hundred and fifty times this morning for breaking the rules about alcohol.” he felt his mood darken a bit, gossip was forbidden.
“What? One hundred and fifty!? As in the number one followed by a five and a zero?” the shock and horror was evident in the disciple’s voice.
“Yeah, he took on his friend’s punishment too! But you want to know the craziest part?”
“What?”
“Afterwards, when he was bleeding through his robes, he got up, smiled, and asked if that was all!”
“Gossip is forbidden, copy the rules twenty times,” he said, rounding the corner, voice a bit harsher than normal. They shouldn't be speaking of Wen Ying's punishment, it was a private matter even if it had been held in a public hall it was not a spectacle to be gossiped about.
The two junior disciples at least had the decency to look ashamed and mumbled a quick apology with a bow before vanishing down the winding paths.
Had Wen Ying truly been struck so harshly? A hundred blows was a lot, very rarely did people receive one hundred and fifty, typically they'd be struck with a more painful ruler instead. He’d check in with the boy later he told himself.
Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to clear his thoughts he continued on his way, reaching the Cold Spring a short while later.
He placed Bichen down when he noticed a still figure leaning up against the dark rocks that lined the pool.
It was Wen Ying, he realized. His tan figure and red hair ribbon were a stark contrast against the slate grey rocks. He froze where he stood, debating leaving the boy, who undoubtedly wouldn’t want anything to do with him especially if his wounds were as bad as he’d heard earlier. He stayed frozen for a few more seconds, waiting for the boy to open his eyes and acknowledge him. Either greeting him with a cheerful ‘Lan Zhan!’ which he didn’t deserve, or a well-earned ‘go away’ which he would comply with.
Yet he noticed the boy didn’t seem to be breathing.
Quickly he made his way to the boy, he didn’t run, running was prohibited in the Cloud Recesses. If this boy had died, killed by an overly enthusiastic punishment he’d never forgive himself. If he took a soul as bright as this from the world he- he- he didn’t know what he’d do. He'd submit himself to the elders for punishment and hope Wen Ruohan wouldn't want his head for what he'd done to his head disciple.
He crouched next to the boy and reached down, two fingers extended toward the boy’s throat. He’d check his spiritual levels and for a pulse. Hopefully, he’d find both.
In an instant he found himself on his back, facing up at the sky with something cold against his neck. A knife, he realized belatedly, there was a short dagger being held up against his throat. His hand, which had been outstretched just seconds earlier was now pinned to the ground with an iron-like grip on his wrist.
“Lan Wangji,” the voice was tired but friendly, the blade withdrew and he sat up, resisting the urge to rub his wrist and check for bruising.
Wen Wuxian was sitting back on his heels in front of him, drenched from the neck down. Lan Wangji pointedly ignored the way the water slid down his tanned skin and didn’t focus on the sheen it gave to the lean muscles just beneath.
He winced internally when he realized what he’d been called, Lan Wangji, not Lan Zhan. Had he truly managed to lose his only friend so fast?
“I’m guessing you’re here to heal,” Wen Ying wasn’t looking at him, rather he was focused on the small dark blade in his hands, which he was absently toying with while he spoke.
“Mm,” he said intelligently.
The boy sighed and ran his hand down his face, “Sorry I didn’t mean to pull a blade on you.” he tossed it over to where his robes were folded and his sword lay.
“Why carry that?” he blurted out.
“Hm?” bright silver eyes looked into his gold ones, the grey pools conveyed confusion and a bit of exhaustion.
“Why carry a dagger with you? You always have a sword and the Cloud Recesses are safe,” he said slowly, making sure not to leave room for misinterpretation, he wasn't insulting the boy, he was merely curious.
That earns him a lopsided smile. He found it more unsettling than reassuring, more self-loathing than carefree. He decided he didn’t like that look on Wen Ying.
“It’s not safe.”
His confusion must’ve shown on his face because the boy repeats himself, elaborating slightly.
“No place is safe for a Wen Dog.”
The words were light but the last were spat out like it was something vile, like it was something to be despised. The look on Wen Ying’s face made Lan Wangji despise the word, no one, nothing, should make his friend look so sad and angry.
He was going to say no, that that wasn’t true. That cloud recesses would always be a safe haven but he didn’t get the chance to do so.
“You probably disagree with me,” Wen Ying chuckled ruefully. “I’m sure you would like to believe that your sect is the exception in the cultivation world, the righteous benevolent ones of the lot.”
He swallowed down his answer at that.
“I hate to break it to you Lan Zhan, but that's not the case." Wen Ying gave him a tight smile, "I can hear the whispers, I see the glances and glares though many think I do not. Many more think I do notice and I just don’t care. I don’t, at least not what they think of me. But what of Wen Ning and Wen Qing? I may earn the reputation of a Wen Dog, I may be deserving of such a name but they never will. Yet why are they called the same thing, why are they also seen as monsters? Why are they punished for the blood in their veins? They are not Wen Ruohan, they are not even his children.”
He didn’t know what to say. “They shouldn’t… I am sorry that Wen Ying had to go through this, I- I did not know.”
He glanced up to find the boy staring at him, with wide eyes and he panicked, Had he said something wrong? He was just about to apologize when Wen Ying spoke.
“You just called me Wen Ying!”
“Mm,” why did that matter? He said he could only a few days ago, was he no longer allowed to?
“That’s the first time you’ve called me as such, Lan Zhan!” he laughed, the sound, just like his birth name, a balm to Lan Wangji’s soul. “Does that mean you accept this humble one’s offer of friendship?”
He barely contained an eye roll as he stood and began to fold his robes. “Ridiculous.”
The laughter that erupted behind him as his companion slipped back into the water with a splash made him smile to himself, a tiny smile, but still undeniably a smile.
He slipped into the water and closed his eyes, yet it was only a few minutes before the peace was shattered.
“Lan Zhan,” he barely opened an eye at that but gave no other indication he was listening. “What was your favorite thing as a child?”
What?
Chapter Text
The boy squinted at him like he was crazy before repeating himself “What’s your favorite thing or memory from your childhood? Like what made you really happy? I’d ask you something more recent but…” he trailed off with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "I thought starting from the beginning would be a bit easier... you know?"
What was he supposed to say to that? Most of his childhood was filled with pain and sorrow. It had been full of disproving elders with lonely days ending in silent nights. Was marred with kneeling and lectures and rules to mold a proper Lan disciple, a Twin Jade that the sect could be proud of. He could still remember the lectures, the anger, the disproval, and the fear. He had, at one point, gotten it into his head that someone somewhere was keeping track of each and every rule he'd broken and once he hit a certain point, when he'd broken enough rules, they'd kick him out. He still awoke to nightmares of that from time to time even though he knew it was not true, even though his uncle had explained to him when he was little that Cloud Recesses would always be his home, that he wouldn't be kicked out.
There had been one ray of light in his childhood though, he supposed, one bit of hopefulness.
One memory, one person, he’d call a happy memory.
“M- my mother,” he said softly, barely forcing it out. His mother was a sore subject within Gusu, but she had made him happy, so happy.
That earned him a radiant smile, he took it as an approval and an encouragement. “Really? What about her? I bet she is very nice and happy to have raised such a well-respected young master, sorry, two well-respected young masters.”
He felt his ears grow warm at the praise, Wen Ying didn’t know she was a murderess and a pariah. He didn't know the stories of how she had killed an elder, how his father had married her to save her life, falling victim to the cursed love of the Lans, imprisoning them both until the end of her days. Even now his father lived in a secluded exile, having seldom any contact with his wife during her life or his sons as they'd grown. Wen Ying didn't know any of this, it was a well-guarded sect secret, an embarrassment, all he saw the late Madam Lan as was a good person, and that her children had become someone that she would be happy to call her sons.
“Mm,” he managed to say. “She was always smiling… she used to sing to me when I visited her, she had a garden of Gentians she liked to pick and would give me dragon's beard candy whenever she had the chance to make some.”
He wasn’t sure why he said that, it was the most he'd talked about his mother since her funeral with, well, anyone. Not even his brother could fully grasp the void his mother's passing had left in him. His brother had been able to make friends with others, hadn't been as attached to his mother as he'd been, and had handled the loss far better. Maybe he spoke his mind because of the relaxing energy of the Cold Pond, maybe it was the fact the boy in front of him was looking at him like what he was saying was the most important thing in all the world and appeared to be genuinely interested in every word he uttered.
“That’s sweet,” Wen Ying said in a voice almost uncharacteristically soft before transitioning back to his rambunctious self after a brief beat of silence “I bet baby Lan Zhan was so cute! Just imagine the chubby cheeks!”
He did not scoff.
He might've rolled his eyes.
Maybe.
Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised by the boy’s lack of seriousness, it was good to see the lively side returning after the alarming encounter only a few minutes earlier and the blank expression early that day.
“What about yours?”
“Hm?” the boy looked at him, head tilted slightly in confusion.
“Your mother.” he prompted, did this boy really not think he would ask the same in return? Yes, he was bad at conversing with people but did he truly leave so much to be desired when speaking with him?
The boy made a silent “oh” with his mouth before giving him a small, wry smile as he traced a pattern on the surface of the water with his fingertip. “I don’t know, she died when I was young. I don’t really remember her too well.... and even the bits I remember I can't even be sure are what I actually remember or if they're simply stories about her that I've been hearing my whole life that are posing as my memories.”
“Oh.” he didn’t know what to say to that, at least he remembered his mother. He never really realized that made him lucky, he should cherish the memories he has, not shun them. Wen Ying didn’t even get the chance to properly meet his mother. He was about to apologize, to try and steer the conversation in a different direction when Wen Ying spoke again.
“I’ve been told I’m a lot like her though!” the head disciple said brightly. “I have a lot of mannerisms that she did and apparently we look the same. According to my fuqin, she was always laughing and smiling and loved to play jokes on people. She was very fearless and spoke her mind, she actually yelled at my fuqin when they first met and called him a 'fucking idiot'!” the boy laughed. “Fuqin said she was lucky he was so smitten with her by that point and that he wasn't so serious or it could've been very different.”
“Your father?” Wen Ying hadn’t really mentioned his family aside from in passing in all the time Lan Zhan had known him, and this boy never stopped talking. He’d honestly assumed the boy was adopted or an orphan after the initial statement about his lack of memories of his mother.
The boy shifted uncomfortably, “He’s very serious and has very high expectations for me and my siblings. It’s not a very cheerful subject and I’m not supposed to discuss sect business… you know what? Forget I even mentioned anything.”
Lan Wangji could only guess what his father could be like to make such a carefree person so nervous, and the fact Wen Ying was the head disciple instead of one of Wen Ruohan’s sons meant that his father was likely highly ranked within the sect, perhaps one of his advisors or generals. That probably meant he was very very strict, Lan Wangji had never personally interacted with the Wen Sect Leader but the man's temper was legendary, keeping him happy might be a matter of survival back in Nightless City, he realized.
“If that’s what Wen Ying wants,” he said simply.
The smile that earned him warmed his soul in a way he’d never really felt before, he wanted to hold it, keep it safe. It fell upon him like the rays of sunlight through the windows of the library pavilion, it radiated the same joy he felt when he’d first drawn Bichen.
“Lan Zhan is too good.”
He wanted to say no, that Wen Ying was the good one of the two of them. Was the one who made people smile and feel like they mattered. Wen Ying was welcomed with laughter and open arms where he only ever found cold gazes and barely-there whispers as people tried to politely avoid him whenever they could. Wen Ying smiled as if the sun and stars were hung for his own amusement as if the wind blew just to make his ribbon dance and his radiant laughter carry further. The boy with a fiery spirit who’d apologized for his sect heir’s behavior immediately after being introduced only to turn out to be one of the most, if not the most unapologetic people Lan Zhan had ever had the pleasure displeasure of meeting. He’d proven himself to be selfless even though his knack for mischief and jokes caused trouble. Wen Ying owned up to his mistakes and took his punishments with a smile, guarding his friend in the same breath he took twice the torment. He'd even attempted to save Su She after his massive blunder, almost costing himself his safety. He hadn't even thought to rescue the boy admittedly, had only even registered what was happening when he realized Wen Ying was missing and had looked down in time to see Wen Qionglin and Su She fall into the water.
No, he wasn’t too good.
He was too cold, too sharp, too stoney, and unfeeling. He was a lot of things, and that was true, there were many words used to describe him. Where Wen Ying was the summer sun that scattered the clouds he was the frozen winters that sent the mountain into hiding. Where Wen Ying brought laughter he brought silence. He was not the one who made friends wherever he went regardless of sect or significance, he was his brother’s shadow on the best of days. He was many things, many titles. A gifted young master, a Jade of Lan, a skilled cultivator and guqin player, he was all those things but good was not one of them, righteous maybe, but never good.
His brother was good.
So was his mother. Wen Ying too.
But not Lan Wangji.
So then why had Wen Ying skipped through the cloud recesses’ rules and regulations right straight into his heart?
Lans were not lucky in love, was this a punishment? To love someone too perfect for him to ever have? He now understood why Lan An wrote 'What scares me most is that should I wake up one day and forget my own name, I'd probably still remember hers.'** He almost spoke those words to Wen Ying. But that’s not what he said. He would never be able to put all of that in words, to convey the depth of the revelation he’d just had was something he was incapable of. And besides, who was he to lose his only friend just so he could share his own selfish desires?
Instead, after a silence that was probably unnaturally long he blurted out, “I could teach you.”
“Huh?” the boy looked up at him, with wide eyes, obviously shaken out of his own thoughts.
“I could teach you to play,” he elaborated slightly. He didn’t need his taciturn mannerisms to cost him a friend, to insult Wen Ying by saying he knew more in such a vague way.
“To play what Lan Zhan?” Wen Ying asked, sounding a bit exasperated.
He tried to tamp down his frustration, both with Wen Ying and himself, “Healing Songs.”
The silence was oppressive and he was about to leave and enter secluded cultivation until the end of time when realization dawned on Wen Ying’s face.
“OH!” Lan Wangj tried not to flinch at the sudden change in volume. He had apparently failed when he received a loudly whispered “Sorry!”
He’d barely nodded his acceptance before Wen Ying was rambling. “Are you sure? I know they’re really important and probably one of your sect secrets and I’m a Wen so obviously I’m a horrible candidate to teach because duh. Don’t trust the Wens is how to run a sect 101 but for real? I don’t want you teaching me something so important out of some twisted sense of guilt. I mean I could probably find a book on healing songs somewhere in the Qishan library, granted it will probably take a couple of years but hey! Worse things have happened-”
The boy took a breath as if to continue and Lan Wangji didn’t even know where to begin unpacking everything that had been said so instead he simply said “Wen Ying.”
The boy paused, “yeah Lan Zhan?”
“Want to teach you… I trust you.”
The boy looked ready to cry at that and he was about to begin to apologize profusely when Wen Ying gave him a slightly watery smile and whispered “Thank you.”
He wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there in peaceful silence, maybe twenty minutes, which was probably a record for Wen Ying when the boy began to shift and Lan Wangji noticed he was shivering.
The boy offered him a tight-lipped smile before getting up and beginning to pace, in what Lan Wangji could only guess was an attempt to warm himself up.
He’d just closed his eyes once more when he heard a sudden splash.
His eyes shot open and he found himself completely alone.
He quickly stood and made his way over to where Wen Ying had been just a few seconds earlier, ready to scold him for scaring him like that when his friend resurfaced. Yet as he took his next step no gravel met the bottom of his foot.
In an instant, the water closed over his head and the cold spring looked just as serene as it had an hour or so before.
Notes:
guess who ended up getting surgery~
means I have more downtime to write though
**(actually, Atticus wrote this but I feel it works for the hopeless romantics).
Chapter 10: Yi and Yin
Chapter Text
He found himself sitting in a pool of shallow water, far colder than the pool that he had been in mere moments ago.
He took a steadying breath and stood before carefully taking in his surroundings, the walls and cavern above him as well as his short fall meant he was most likely directly underneath the Cold Springs or at least close to them. That was good, it meant he was still within the protective wards of the Cloud Recesses at the very least. There was a slight sheen on the walls where the waterline rippled slightly against them and his breath could be seen when he exhaled slowly. The heightened sensation of being cold was most definitely not due to his imagination or his now-soaked inner robes he decided. The path behind him was also covered in ice and perfectly smooth meaning climbing it would need to be a last resort since he hadn’t kept his other dagger.
But the most prominent feature in the room was an ornate silver guqin resting on a low platform made of a mixture of ice and stone. He was just about to walk over, and albeit cautiously, investigate why it was down here in a place that was obviously never meant to be found. That was until he heard a thud and soft swishing sound followed by a much louder splash as Lan Zhan landed beside him, the surprise evident on his friend's face for only a moment before he regained control over his expression.
“Welcome to the party,” he said dryly looking down at his friend with a slight smile. If he wasn’t so concerned with what in the hell was going on he probably would’ve laughed. But here he was, no sword, no flute, and now, as if things weren't bad enough, with a member of the Gusu Lan Sect, even if said member was his friend. Lan Zhan was trustworthy, yes, but the secret of his core, the secret of what and who he was was one he was supposed to take to the grave. That meant using resentful energy was also off the table, meaning he was not only trapped in an unknown cave system that was cold as shit but he was also armed with nothing but a single dagger which didn't really count for much so... yay, he was now defenseless in a cold ass unknown cave with no one looking for them and nothing but is soaked inner layers to keep him warm against the cold air
“Where are we?” the Lan spoke slowly, standing up and scanning the room just as Wen Ying had when he’d first landed down here.
“I was hoping you’d know,” he shrugged, “considering this is your sect and all…” he trailed off when the Lan shot him an expression that he was sure was meant as a ‘well I wouldn’t have fucking asked if I knew, dumbass.’ and he fought the urge to smile at his own interpretation of the Lan's expression. Lan Zhan would never say that, he knew, but that didn't make his own mental impression any less amusing, and besides, if he started letting this get to him then he might get too pessimistic to find a way out. Morale was important.
Lan Zhan opened his mouth once more, as if about to answer when the cave resonated with a single baritone note.
He glanced over to see one of the Guqin strings still vibrating when he felt the note rip through him, making him grunt in pain and instinctively place his hand over his stomach, where the thin blue line of Qi had passed through him.
Shit.
Another note rang out.
Double mother fucking shit.
This one was brighter, a more vibrant cerulean color, and just as he'd suspected, was more powerful than the previous note.
Lan Zhan was beside him as he groaned slightly before slowly allowing more Yin energy to course through him, neutralizing the spiritual energy.
“How are you not being affected?” he said through gritted teeth as the pain began to subside, his reserves were going to get lower than he'd like if them if he needed to keep healing from the Guqin attacks in addition to the discipline whips from earlier today.
“I- I don’t know,” the Lan stuttered out, sounding worried and truly lost for the first time since he’d met him.
“Quick, get in front of me!”
The Lan swiftly complied, stationing himself between Wen Ying and the Guqin but it made no difference.
He closed his eyes as he exhaled through clenched teeth as yet another note tore through him and the Yin worked to heal and soothe, he mentally began to brace himself for the next chord to strike him.
“Okay so it’s something that marks you as a friend, not a protective barrier,” he mused. As he tried to think as to what the hell it could be he felt something soft and cool wrap itself around his wrist. “Wha-”
The words died in his throat.
A Lan Sect forehead ribbon.
He didn’t even have time to say something in protest, to argue with him and tell him to take it back, that the ribbon was sacred and he was not deserving of such an honor.
He instinctively flinched as another note reverberated through the cavern but was met with no pain, to his shock, the energy passed through him as if he wasn’t there. He looked up at Lan Zhan eager to share his excitement only to find the boy avoiding his gaze, ears flushed.
Oh, this was awkward. His friend was either embarrassed or ashamed. With that sentiment understandable he decided to play dumb and spare his friend the conversation of the significance of this gesture by both never bringing this up, and not mentioning that he was well aware of what the ribbon signified.
A series of notes in rapid succession returned his gaze to the Guqin and he was shocked at the sight before him. The spirit that hovered over the guqin began to take form, slowly blossoming into a woman dressed in pale white and blue robes complete with a matching forehead ribbon and a kind smile.
Lan Wangji bowed and he instinctively did the same, this was obviously someone of importance but he couldn’t help the way his traitorous heart skipped a beat when he internally wondered if this counted as a bow to the ancestors.
“Come,” the voice was warm and welcoming so he rose and took a step forward, but never lowering his guard. He’d met beings far more beautiful and kind who drew from resentment so old and dark he preferred to cleanse it rather than harvest it for his core or Chenqing.
“Who are you?” he asked, he pointedly ignored the glare he got from Lan Zhan for his rudeness but he didn’t really care. Lan or not each spirit must be regarded as dangerous, especially when he could feel the faded fingerprints of resentful energy on her very soul.
“I am Lan Yi, granddaughter of Gusu Lan Sect Founder, Lan An. I invented this technique,” her ghostly fingers hovered over the Guqin before plucking a single note which sent out yet another thin band of light.
“Chord Assassination Technique,” Lan Zhan said with gentle awe, it was almost lost on more than one occasion throughout history, deemed to be too violent but it was always revived after war or disaster.
Wen Ying knew of Chord Assassination, he’d seen senior Lan disciples use it on Night Hunts and heard stories from his Father’s network of spies, plus the dead kept few secrets from him. He hadn’t seen it this powerful or controlled in his life or those of the ghosts he interacted with.
“I developed it to kill dissidents at first,” she sighed, not mentioning the outrage it had caused, “but now I use it only to protect.”
“Protect what, Lady Lan?” He prodded gently.
Something behind her eyes flashed in an all too familiar way. He had his answer before she even spoke.
“From a danger, I should’ve never uncovered.”
He heard the voices before he saw it, his body shuddered instinctively as they called out to him. Begged, bartered, threatened, screamed, and cursed him to let them go, set them free, set himself free. They were far quieter than they were at home but that didn’t mean he liked or trusted them anymore now. Thankfully Lan Zhan seemed to interpret such a movement as him being cold.
“Yin Iron,” the pouch that materialized was smothered with talismans and wards but he could still feel it tug on his core like the moon on the tide before he ripped it away and sealed his Yin deep in his dantian until the cursed monstrosity was hidden away once more.
“Why are you telling us this?” Lan Wangji asked and Wen Ying prayed his friend didn’t notice the way Lady Yi’s eyes briefly slid to the ribbon that tied them together before returning to their faces.
“I may not be able to keep guard forever, if someone was truly set on retrieving this shard there would be little I could do should they be powerful enough.” Said shard vanished and he felt he could breathe again. “I am telling you so that you may guard it too, and retrieve it should it ever be lost since I cannot.”
Lan Zhan nodded and bowed, a silent acceptance of his task.
As for why I am telling you. He almost jumped in shock when he felt her resentful energy flare slightly, he’d never pegged a Lan to have practiced demonic cultivation to the point where they could push messages through the resentment silently. You are special, I am not sure why but the Yin Iron was always wild, always lashing out yet it does not lash out with you, with you it begs.
I want nothing to do with it . The venom he felt towards the Yin Iron must’ve made it through the energy because she flinched slightly and then smiled.
That’s exactly why it is you.
Lan Zhan righted himself and Wen Ying quickly made sure his expression remained that of moderate interest and did not belay the silent exchange which had just taken place.
“I’ll let you go now, you will have three minutes before the technique resumes.” Lan Yi faded back into the small pale orb once more before the orb in turn slowly sank into the Guqin.
A low grinding sound filled the room as ice and stone shifted, revealing yet another tunnel which he could only hope to lead them out of the stupid cave.
He was hesitant to trust this tunnel, a lifetime of training, preparation, threats, and violence made it difficult for him to ever truly let his guard down and ghostly ancestors from another sect (or even his sect) didn’t exactly count themselves as something to be trusted.
“Let’s go,” Lan Zhan took a step forward and gave a small tug with the ribbon that tied them together when he didn’t immediately follow. “Before the Guqin starts playing again.”
“Okay,” he nodded and followed the Lan, never lowering his guard.
—----------------
He had been sitting for hours.
The curfew bell had sounded long ago yet he could not fall asleep.
He kept turning the events of the day over in his mind.
There were a few things that kept coming to the forefront of his mind.
The revelation about the Yin Iron.
What was he supposed to do with this knowledge? He was supposed to guard it, but why him? Why now? Everyone in the Lan Sect utilized the Cold Pond, yet she let him enter. Wen Ying too which surprised him the most, the boy had admitted he knew of his sect’s reputation and even carried an extra blade because of it out of fear for his own safety. Yet his ancestor, a former sect leader, had deemed him, Wen Ying, a powerful Wen, worthy of such a closely guarded secret. It made him a little proud at his friend's seal of approval, was glad the one he cared so much for was deemed trustworthy.
And, selfishly, he recalled the sight of his ribbon around Wen Ying’s wrist.
It had validated some deep-seated part of him. The pale blue against the tan skin, tied to him. It was something he had desired and now that he’d briefly had, craved. But he would not admit to this, his friend would never need to know. He couldn’t saddle someone like Wen Ying with the knowledge of his one-sided love, Lans were known to be unlucky and he wished he didn’t understand it so well. Wen Ying deserved the world, a world he could not give him, though he would endeavor to provide it nonetheless.
—-----------------
His father had sent him to find anomalies in the cloud recess containing resentful energy.
The Yin Iron.
His father had not called it that name, he did not speak of what he was working on.
But it was what he was sent to find.
It was both a blessing and a curse to have the knowledge of what it was, to be able to research, though he had a hunch that what he found would be more a curse than a blessing.
Lady Yi said he affected the Iron. Hopefully, his father hadn’t noticed a shift too. He had no desire to begin to work with him on the monstrosity.
The idea made his skin crawl. He shuddered and rolled over in his bed, staring blankly at the wall as he weighed his options.
It was then he decided.
He’d tell his father the truth.
Just not the whole truth.
Chapter 11: Bunnies and Byes
Chapter Text
The six months passed quickly and he reveled in each day he spent away from Qishan with all its crushing expectations and oppressive gloom.
The Yin Iron still called to him, speaking to him as if he was a long-lost friend but he tuned it out most days and surrounded himself with friends and distractions.
He explored Caiyi Town and traded stories with Nie Huasaing and Jiang Cheng and played the occasional prank on Lan Qiren, of course. Wen Ning looked more self-assured as he made a few friends of his own and Wen Qing looked as close to relaxed as he’d ever seen her. He’d informed them of his plan regarding his father and the Yin Iron, removing the burden from their shoulders and enabling them to take a sigh of relief and enjoy their last few months of peace outside of Qishan. It had been a subject weighing on all of their shoulders, but most heavily on Wen Qing's, she had the greatest risk of all of them, feeling responsible for the safety of her family and brother while Wen Ying had the immunity of being the favorite son, not that that did much nowadays. There had been much debate as to who would search for what they were sent for and what would be done once it was found, it was good they now had an answer to both those questions.
Yet his favorite thing was when he would go to one of the many secluded pavilions in the Cloud Recesses and Lan Zhan would teach him songs. He’d kept his promise and taught him two Lan healing songs, which he’d pretended to take a while to learn in order to spend more time with his friend, who seemed happiest when there was either a sword or Guqin in his hand. Lan Zhan had then, to his shock, started teaching him local songs. Songs with no purpose other than to bring the listener joy, no greater use than simply being heard and conveying a story. He memorized them all. Resentment didn't need special songs like spiritual energy did, it needed intent and a guide, a song that matched the response needed could be filled with his own intent and the energy would obey so long as his hand remained firm. There were some songs that he'd been taught by the Burial Mounds that resentment couldn't really fight but those were seldom used, no one knew of them.
Before he knew it he only had three days left in the Cloud Recesses, and rather than feeling homesick, all he could feel was the sorrow of leaving the closest thing he’d ever had to a true home, to a normal life. He didn’t want to return to Qishan where he constantly needed to figure out which people only wanted to spend time with him because of what he could do for them, didn’t want to be haunted by his father’s experiments that he was powerless to stop, didn't want to return to the isolation and cruelty that came with the Fire Palace. He wanted to stay in Gusu, even if the rules were suffocating he was freer in the Cloud Recesses than he could ever remember being aside from the six-month span of his challenge when he was in the Burial Mounds. You know your home life is bad when you prefer to be in a literal mass grave with a bunch of angry ghosts screaming themselves to a second death.
There wasn’t much he could do for his new friends, not yet at least. But he silently promised that should the opportunity ever present itself he would do everything in his power to aid them. But for now, he’d get them something small.
For Nie Huaisang he gave a few inks that could only be found in the remote, near inaccessible, regions of Qishan. It was the ink he used for his talismans, both spiritual and resentful, it was, in his opinion, the best around. The boy had hugged him, a surprising reaction considering the well-known vendetta that his elder brother and sect leader had for the Wens, but he guessed he had been given the all-clear since he wasn’t Wen Ruohan. Hopefully, the relationship wouldn't be shattered once the Nies realized he wasn't far off the mark in terms of blood.
Jiang Cheng ended up with an assortment of spices, he’d been careful to pick out the moderately spicy ones as the Jiangs had a reasonable spice tolerance and far better than all the other sects but even the Jiang Heir couldn’t stomach the spice typically found in most of the Qishan diet. It had been accepted with a good-natured eye roll which he'd learned was the angry grape's equivalent of jumping for joy while clapping his hands and squealing like a small child.
Yet he found himself struggling with what to get Lan Zhan. He’d considered getting him Dragon’s Beard candy but felt it was far too simple for the friendship that had been formed. The gift of the Lan healing songs would last far longer than a bit of candy, he wanted to give him something that would last as long as the songs would and would bring as much joy.
It had really been by chance that he’d stumbled across the rabbits when exploring the forests just outside the wards of the Cloud Recesses the night before he was due to depart. The pair had come up to him, albeit hesitantly when he was practicing empathy with some of the spirits there in an attempt to offer them peace before he left.
The black one had approached him first, showing almost no fear while the white one was a bit more reserved than its friend. He gently picked them up when they were finally close enough and found them accepting of their fates, they did not attempt to bite him and squirm their way out of his grip. It brought a small smile to his face, it wasn’t often that he had peaceful moments like this. There was not much innocence in his life, not many true friends, even in terms of animal companions…. These would be the perfect gifts for Lan Zhan.
Now it was a matter of how he was going to convince his friend to accept them after all “pets are forbidden” was one of the many stupid rules on the stupid rock that for some reason the Lans considered more important than people and their happiness (as he’d seen and heard first hand from his time with Lan Zhan). As he walked back to the guest quarters, careful to not be seen by the guards, he formulated his plan. By the time he placed the two bunnies into the large basket with some lettuce he’d stolen from the kitchen and prepared for bed, he knew exactly how he was going to get the fuddy-duddy to accept his newly gifted friends.
-------------
Today was the day the guest disciples were to leave.
He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut as he realized the full implications of such a reality.
Soon all that had spent the last six months here would return to their home sects and who knows when their paths would cross once more. Ordinarily, he would’ve been happy with this outcome. Would be utterly relieved that peace would finally return to the Cloud Recesses and order would reestablish itself in his life. Yet he found himself dreading it rather than anticipating such a change. The bubble of happiness he’d had for the past few months had finally popped and despite all his attempts to pretend this day wouldn’t come, it was now a harsh reality.
He found himself fearing the loneliness that would return when the guest disciples inevitably left. He’d been able to shoulder his isolation from his peers all his life because he had never truly known what he was missing out on. But then Wen Ying had come along, had turned his life upside down with the force of a hurricane and more joy than he thought possible. He'd been offered his first true friend and companion aside from his brother and now he was about to lose it and be plunged back into his friendless existence.
So rather than facing that truth here he was, sitting in the musical wing of the library pavilion on the second floor with only Wangji as company and avoiding the goodbye he dreaded so much. It was a bit cowardly, not that he'd admit that to himself, but deep down he knew it to be true.
He heard a creaking sound and his head shot up to find someone jumping from the magnolia tree that grew outside the window into the library through one of the many large windows that they'd opened as the weather grew warmer. “Lan Zhan! I’m back! Did you miss me?”
Instead of saying that he always missed Wen Ying, even if the boy was only a few paces away or just around a corner, instead of admitting he always wanted to keep him close and never leave his side he merely gazed at the boy in silence willing his face to remain neutral and not betray the way his heart skipped a beat.
“I know, even if you don’t say it, that you definitely missed me.” the statement was followed by bright carefree laughter before the boy calmed himself though he continued to smile. “Aiya, I won’t bother you more than I already have, I’m just here to say goodbye before the escorts from Qishan come to get us.”
He tried his best not to scowl and the mention of the departure that would likely occur in the next few hours.
“Hey don’t make that face Lan Zhan! I have a parting gift for you!” his friend said brightly.
He didn't know if his friend had picked up on his subtle expression change, was Wen Ying capable of reading his thoughts? If that was the case he surely wouldn't continue to remain friends with him, but he was most definitely curious how the Wen had managed to read him so well in such a short span of time. As for the second half of the statement, he wasn’t really sure what to expect, knowing Wen Ying it could be anything from alcohol to a painting to… actually, he didn’t even know what else the boy could’ve had. Wen Ying was a conundrum on the best of days.
“Ta-da!” the cheerful voice drew him from his thoughts and he saw two bundles of soft fur being held in Wen Ying’s arms. Rabbits he realized belatedly, one black and one white.
“Since I’m going to be leaving soon I didn’t want you to be alone, so these are some friends for you. Yes friends, not pets because no pets in the cloud recesses.” The boy said it dutifully like he'd been planning out his argument in case he tried to object.
Any words of protest he could’ve had died in his throat when the boy placed the bunnies on the desk in front of him, next to Wangji. Wen Ying placed a soft scratch between the white rabbit’s ears as it remained still while the black one had already begun to explore. Their large black eyes gazed up curiously at him as their mouths worked on the last of the lettuce they must've been given and his heart melted a little at the sight.
“It thought you’d like them, anyways, it’s been an honor to be your friend Lan Zhan.”
Then the boy vanished just as the words “thank you” passed his lips.
—------------------
“Zhuliu,” he greeted when the man landed outside the gates of the Cloud Recesses, “I’m guessing you’re here to escort us back?”
“Indeed,” the man said, never been one for chatter in front of large groups of strangers.
"Well, it would be best for us to set off,” Wen Wuxian said cheerfully before turning and bowing once more, “Thank you for hosting us, Young Master Lan.”
“Young Master Wen is welcome back should he ever wish to continue his musical education,” Lan Xichen bowed in response, (not missing the opportunity to wingman his baby brother mind you).
With a smile and one last wave to Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng, and a few other disciples with whom he’d become acquainted, Wen Wuxian, flanked by Wen Ning and Wen Qing stepped through the wards of the Cloud Recesses and onto his sword, beginning his long journey back to Nightless City.
—-----------------
“Brother?” he asked in lieu of a full question but his brother knew him well enough to hear the words that weren't being said.
“Mm?” was the only response he got, his brother still looking slightly shaken from when the guest disciples had left a few hours ago.
“What’s wrong?” he pressed, something must truly be troubling Lan Xichen for him to respond with monotone and syllable responses. That combined with his slightly rattled facial expression him and paler-than-usual coloring told him something was wrong.
“It’s just…” he sighed heavily, “The Wens were escorted home…”
He inclined his head slightly, a silent sign of encouragement.
“... by Wen Zhuliu.”
“The core melting hand?” there was really only one Wen Zhuliu in all the cultivation world and no one would mistake the name to mean anything else but he was sure he'd misheard, there was no way the Wen Zhuliu would travel all this way... but then Wen Chao had come along earlier simply to drop them off.
That earned him a nod as his brother took another long sip of tea.
Oh, Wen Ying, he couldn’t help but feel the pit settle in his gut, what’ve you gotten yourself into?
—---------------
The flight home was faster without Wen Chao to slow them down combined with more favorable wind and weather conditions they managed to make it back after two straight days of flying with only a few brief stops for food and rest.
He’d filled Wen Zhuliu in on his time there, being one of the few people who wasn’t afraid of the core melting hand, but also treated him like a human being, unlike his pathetic elder brother whom the man served as the bodyguard for. The man looked as close to happy as he always did, which was not at all, but Wen Ying knew the man didn’t mind his constant idle chatter. After all, he’d basically raised him when his father was too busy with sect business or experiments and had been his training partner and personal tutor for almost the entirety of his life. In fact, Wen Zhuliu was the second most important teacher he'd ever had in terms of impact, the Burial Mounds being the first and his own father was third, the dead were fourth and Wen Qing came fifth.
Wen Ning and Wen Qing had spoken about their time there too, knowing the core melting hand would keep his mouth shut unless explicitly ordered to tell Wen Ruohan what they’d said, and even then he wouldn’t mention details that were deemed personal. The man was loyal to a fault and had been close friends with Wen Wuxian's mother and Wen Qing’s and Ning’s father before they'd passed which earned them a special place in the Core Melter's stone heart.
As they crossed the border and began approaching Nightless City Wen Wuxian began to shift back into the persona of the Third Young Master Wen, he couldn’t slip up now.
—-----------------
“Fuqin,” he bowed, perfectly executed as always. “I am here to report on my studies. They were insightful and this one’s mind has been broadened, I’ve also begun to form tentative alliances with some of the sect heirs.” He didn’t say friends, he was the Third Young Master Wen, he didn’t have friends, at least not any that he openly admitted to his father.
“And what of your mission?” his father leaned forward after acknowledging his previous statement with an approving nod.
“I detected definitive traces of resentful energy from some sort of powerful vessel yet they were very faint so I suspect the object had either been moved or is very well concealed which is to be expected.”
He would not mention he knew where it was or what it was. He'd play the long game, play it off for as long as he could and hope this answer would deter his father from whatever it was that he was planning.
His father nodded slowly, “good.”
The two faced each other, one sitting the other standing as the silence blanketed the room.
His facial expression remained carefully impassive as he waited for his father to either acknowledge him or dismiss him. He didn’t fidget, in fact, he barely even moved when he was breathing as all his energy was focused on ignoring the two shards of Yin Iron that begged him to join them and reunite them with their siblings.
Finally, his father spoke once more.
“The disciples responsible for the Waterborne Abyss… incident, are being held in the upper levels of the dungeon, they are yours to do with what you wish.” the malevolent gleam in his father’s eye was one on his behalf, the rage of the idea of losing the son of his soulmate. “And Ying-er,” he said just as Wen Wuxian was about to leave, “welcome home, you’ve been greatly missed.”
He smiled, nodded, and bowed, taking the dismissal with far more eagerness than his face betrayed. As he passed by Wen Qing, who was to be next to visit his father, he offered her a thin-lipped smile and a nod, an indicator that his father's mood was relatively stable and positive, the latter becoming increasingly rare with each passing day.
He walked the winding path down to the holding cells his father spoke of, the prisons were far removed from the palace and city and built in a labyrinth pattern that had walls that were enchanted to shift or show false doors that lead to nothing but death traps. He ignored the ghosts of those who’d been killed and made his way down the halls to the most remote corner of the dungeon.
He took a deep breath, willed his eyes not to glow crimson, and stepped into the cells.
—----------------
The disciples were released shortly after he left, each one's face marred with still-drying tears and the wounds from the disciple whip still stinging. They’d each been struck twenty-five times across their sword hand and were ordered to practice sword forms for the next twenty-four hours.
It was the sentiment of everyone that he had let them off easy, but if someone had died everyone knew what their fate would’ve been.
Chapter 12: A Favor Among Friends
Summary:
so this was about 3000 words longer than it was supposed to be...
Chapter Text
He didn’t normally look forward to cultivation conferences, especially not the ones that were hosted in Qishan when Wen Ruohan was sure to attend. He often found himself feeling like he was on display, constantly being picked apart and analyzed by the other sects and the long flight didn’t make the experience any more enjoyable. Not to mention the fact that they were always on high alert as it was practically common sense at this point to not trust the Wens, or at least their leader. Yet he actually found himself counting down the days that led up to the upcoming Conference, the days before he, his brother, and the disciples that would be accompanying them departed from the Cloud Recesses.
It had been 6 months since the guest disciples had departed and the lectures had ended, he’d turned another year older and the bunnies had brought more friends and now he had almost a dozen, all growing fat with no obvious intention of leaving the Cloud Recesses anytime soon, even his uncle seemed to have given up trying to get rid of them on the condition they stay in the back mountains and didn’t distract him from his studies which he’d easily agreed to. He wouldn't admit to it, but the original two were his favorite and even had ribbons around their necks to separate them from the rest of the newer additions though he was sure to care for them all equally, neglecting none.
“Excited to see young master Wen, Wangji?” his brother asked him as they did a last-minute check before they departed, a small, knowing grin obvious on his face despite his efforts to conceal it.
He didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the almost smug look on his brother's face, simply nodding, not trusting his mouth to form the right words.
When it was confirmed that they did indeed have everything they mounted their swords and set off, beginning the two to three-day flight to Qishan assuming the weather conditions remained favorable for flying.
—----------------------
It would be his first cultivation conference.
He was almost giddy with excitement, he had always been fascinated by the sword forms and cultivation styles of the other sects so the opportunity to observe them up close with his own eyes and maybe even through some of the sword matches was something he absolutely refused to pass up. He'd managed to learn a bit during his time in the Cloud Recesses but this would have even more sects and far more opportunities to observe. Even if he had to make several trips to the tailor to be fitted with the most elaborate (and annoying) robes he’d ever touched it would be worth the knowledge he would gain.
He was also excited to see his friends again, it was difficult to keep in touch with them when he was in Qishan, he sent the occasional letter to Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang when he was outside of Nightless City and near the shared borders but sending letters all the way to Gusu was still far too risky despite sharing a border the Cloud Recesses was on the opposite end of Gusu's territory and had for more spies in its lands than the Nie sect did. Especially with how extensive his father’s network of spies was, he may be the favorite son but he was under no illusion that it gave him immunity, in fact, it meant he had even more people watching him for both his own protection and to make sure he didn’t abuse his privilege. On more than one occasion the resentful beings that he was constantly in tune with had informed him of someone hiding just beyond the treeline or having placed a listening talisman someplace. It was more amusing to him rather than irritating now, especially since he eternally had the upper hand. The increasingly creative ways they tried to monitor were a constant source of new entertainment should he ever find himself growing bored, but he had to admit it did grow tiresome when he wished to write to his friends or anyone for that matter.
But he was most excited to see Lan Zhan. It had taken a while but after Wen Qing had practically strangled him and nearly stuck him full of needles all while she yelled at him to quit lamenting like a lovesick maiden and to go bother her younger brother or Xue Yang instead. It had been a bit shocking but it made him realize he was, in fact, completely and irrevocably in love with the Second Young Master Lan and that it was not simply a passing crush or admiration of the man's abilities as he'd originally thought during their time there. Unfortunately, he was also realistic and knew it could never happen, that he could never be with Lan Zhan. One Lan Zhan didn’t feel the same way (Wen Ying didn't even know if the Lan liked men) and even if he did he likely wouldn’t after he found out just how big of a secret Wen Ying had been keeping. Wen Ruohan wouldn’t really care about the cut sleeve part, well aware that Wen Ying swung both ways which was nice but Lan Qiren would never give his approval even with his status as the Third Young Master Wen. And, just to top it all off, his father was slowly burning bridges with each and every sect and at this point, he needed to focus on getting his disciples evacuated from Nightless City safely for when shit started going down rather than pursuing a romantic relationship.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do as much as he could to keep his friend safe. The Lans loved once, and often tragically, but the Wen sect had their own reputation when it came to love, it was deep and true, and should it be rejected often turned obsessive. Members of the main family were known for completely ignoring the customs of the sect, discarding all traditions, building the sect a new to there for those they loved.
So he’d build the world from afar, would do everything he could from the shadows while maintaining his friendship.
That’s why he was in the kitchens talking with the head chef about the specifics of what to serve to each region. The Nies and Jiangs would have milder spices that still had a kick, the Jins would have just enough to season the food and the Lans would have what he jokingly called rabbit food with nothing but the slightest bit of salt. He had even offered them local recipes based on the stories he'd heard from Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang and actual recipes he’d gotten from shop owners he’d charmed during his many visits down to Caiyi Town.
The cooks had looked amused and slightly surprised but ultimately agreed with him (not that many of the staff would be so bold to disagree with one of Wen Ruohan's sons) and also agreed to keep his visit a secret and presented his idea as their own to the event planner, carefully framing it as another way to make the sects more amendable to the newly introduced Wen Wuxian which had earned them a go ahead.
—-----------------
They touched down, sheathing their swords, and instantly were greeted by a dozen Wen Servants, each dressed in the sect's signature robes of white and red. They guided the Lans to their quarters for the week and provided food and drinks before all but one politely excused themselves but promised that if 'their esteemed guests' needed anything they shouldn’t hesitate to ask.
“Greetings First and Second Young Masters Lan, this one is Wen Heng, I’ll be at your disposal for the remainder of your stay, should you have any questions or need anything my sole job is to make sure that your time here is as comfortable and worry-free as possible.”
Lan Wangji was surprised by this, this was the first time this had ever happened in all the cultivation conferences he attended, Wen or otherwise, typically they’d just be left to fend for themselves and find their own way so this was highly suspicious. Though he did suppose the Wens and all their secrecy might not want them wandering too far but even then this was very unusual, unsettlingly so.
“Ah,” his brother recovered quickly, “Thank you, Wen Heng, I’m sure we will manage but we will find you if we need anything.”
This earned them a quick nod, smile, and bow before the young man vanished as if into thin air.
“That was… new.” he decided to say, best not to say anything that could offend anyone who happened to be listening.
“Indeed,” his brother said slowly, still looking at the door through which they’d both entered and Wen Heng had exited.
“Wen Ying did mention this discussion conference was going to be bigger than normal,” he said finally, in his last-ditch effort to explain the anomaly.
His brother nodded slowly and eventually went off to find his room, the conference itself would begin after the sword matches which would be announced at 8 sharp tomorrow morning and begin promptly at 9 and continue on for the rest of the day and into the next while archery would be held on the third day and the night hunt on the fourth once the duels had been completed.
—-------------------
He quickly glanced at who his match was, a minor sect member from a clan he’d heard of at some point but he couldn’t remember where exactly they hailed from, he checked Xue Yang’s first match and found his head disciple would be fighting some Jin disciple named Zixun, he was pretty sure that was the Jin Heir's cousins but Jin Zixuan had sooooo many cousins (almost as many as he did half-siblings) he didn't bother to keep them straight.
Wen Chao and Wen Xu wouldn’t be competing, his eldest brother had aged out of the competition and Wen Chao’s pitiful attempts would bring shame to the sect (his father’s words not his - not that he or the other disciples disagreed with the sentiment though).
He wasn’t surprised to find both Twin Jades would be competing though he knew this would be Lan Xichen’s last eligible year. He couldn’t wait to have a good spar with Lan Zhan, certain that both of them had improved their cultivation and he’d expanded his styles to include some of the more unique regional styles that could be found all across Qishan.
Today and tomorrow would be nothing but Sword duels, and then they’d transition over to the Archery competitions and a few other events or forms of entertainment, he couldn’t remember if the night hunt was the last day or after archery but that was a problem for later.
“Who am I fighting?” Xue Yang bounded up beside him, it was the boy’s first conference too as he typically never went far from Wen Wuxian. “I hope it’s someone from the Chang Clan.”
Wen Wuxain patted his head fondly, the boy still hadn’t forgiven the minor clan for not giving him the sweets they’d promised him all those years ago. Though Wen Wuxian considered the boy lucky that all he got cheated of was a few sweets when he’d come so close to losing at least part of his hand to the wheel of the Chang Clan Leader’s carriage. “The Chang Clan don’t have anyone competing this time Chengmei, you’re going to be going up against one of the Jin Heir’s infinite cousins.”
“Ugh,” the boy groaned, practically throwing himself over his shoulders like a giant blanket when they were finally out of the public eye as he was wont to do. “I guess kicking his ass will have to do.”
Wen Wuxian rolled his eyes at that, the boy was even more dramatic than he was.
"I'm sure you will A-Yang, just don't leave a bootprint this time."
—----------------------
“You’re going to be up against an outer Jiang Disciple first, I’ve got a Nie.” His bother said to him when he reentered their shared quarters.
“Mm,” he nodded, not looking up from where he was playing Wangji, he didn't need to watch his fingers dance across the strings, having long since been able to play without looking but he found it comforting, a better distraction.
“Young master Wen is going up against one of the minor sects from the Jiang-Nie border,” came the slightly teasing lilt he'd been expecting.
“Brother.” He said, hoping his ears weren't bright red as he tried his best to sound stern.
“What?" Lan Xichen said far too innocently. "I’m just saying,” the elder smiled and sat, pulling out his xiao and began to play the accompaniment as he wrapped up the song.
“...”
—-------------------
His first few sparring partners had been lackluster at best, he actually had begun counting down in his head how long he had to make a fight last to make it seem respectful before he knocked them out of the ring based on their sect’s importance and the disciples' importance within said sect. One Lan and two of the Nies had actually been interesting spars and he was very careful to observe the styles as they were the most different from that of his sect, being full of slow and heavy hits rather than faster lighter ones of the main Qishan style.
Xue Yang had not done the same thing in his first round, knocking Jin Zixun out of the ring only a minute into their duel and breaking one of the boy’s legs in the process. He’d actually had to pull his head disciple aside and remind him they had to make the fights last a length that wasn’t humiliating which the boy hadn’t been happy with but still agreed to (he barely met the tiem limits but he knew not to look the gift horse in the mouth and let it slide).
The boy had a rapid and rather chaotic fighting style, a modification of the traditional style, one that allowed him to dance around his opponents only coming within range of their blades to deliver bone-crushing hits, it was the same style that Wen Wuxian favored. He carried on in this manner for another few rounds until he faced Jiang Cheng, who had an equally quick style with the Jiang forms and was finally able to knock Xue Yang out of the ring after a rapid succession of well-placed hits in their last match of the day. The boy had been annoyed but stayed civil and Wen Ying knew Chengmei was finally going to start doing extra sword forms (like he’d been practically begging him to for the past year).
—-----------------------
He and his brother had gone through their first few rounds with relative ease, the first day tended to be a matter of sheer number rather than difficulty while the second day of matches was when the competition began to turn interesting.
He’d lost track of how many disciples he’d fought and eliminated, there were several matches going on at any given time in hopes of rapidly reducing the number of participants which prevented him from watching anyone else’s matches as he was typically watching his brother's or fighting. Tomorrow there would only be twenty-five starting pairs with one-time elimination and twenty-four normal matches which meant he’d be able to watch Wen Ying and his brother assuming both of them made it past the first two rounds.
“How were your matches brother?” he asked as they had their evening tea.
“They were fine, I had a bit of an issue with the Jin Head Disciple but eventually figured out her attack pattern." They both knew he'd only said it out of politeness, they had placed first and second in the discussion conference duels for the past few years. "How was yours? Any difficulties?”
“Good," he said simply then elaborated after a second, "no issues.”
“Who’s your first match tomorrow?” he knew his brother could check on his own but he knew the Elder Jade of Lan liked to ensure he felt cared for.
He inclined his head slightly, “Nie Jingfei.”
“She’s good," came the thoughtful reply. "Mingjue promoted her recently, she has very powerful hits.”
He lifted the teapot and refilled both their cups, earning him a small smile from his brother as a silent thanks. “Mm.”
“I’ll be sparring one of the Wens," he didn't like the way his head instinctively raised from where it had been inspecting his tea. "There are quite a few new ones this year.”
He shot his brother a warning look, he wasn’t in the mood to be teased tonight.
Much to his chagrin his brother couldn't help but chuckle, barely attempting to hide it behind his tea.
—----------------------
When he’d heard the next match was the Jin Sect's Heir and Wen Ying he’d been sure to have a good view of the ring.
This was the first time he’d bothered to watch a fight that wasn’t his brother's or his next opponent’s. He was watching in a silent show of support for Wen Ying, that and he'd never been able to observe Wen Ying fight, the boy seldom sparred with others other than Wen Qionglin and during the Waterborne Abyss, he'd been too busy trying to make sure everyone made it to safety rather than watching how Suibian handled.
He quickly found himself joined by Nie Huaisang and Wen Qionglin, both of whom were watching the match. Wen Qionglin paying far more attention than the Second Young Master Nie was but he guessed that made sense all things considered.
The two had stepped into the ring, one robed in black and scarlet, the other in gold, each bowing respectfully and taking their starting stances.
The starting bell had been rung and instantly Jin Zixuan took the first few moves, circling the ring slowly in a clockwise direction. Wen Ying had done the same, mirroring the movements and making their duel start with it appearing that there were two wolves stalking their prey.
The Jin heir had launched himself forward, going with an uncharacteristically heavy first swing that was blocked before quickly retreating back to the center of the ring in the rapid fashion that made the Jin forms so dangerous upon proper execution while Wen Ying remained on the very edge and seemed quite content to stay there.
Wen Ying glanced up at the stands, scanning through them as if searching for someone. It was a bold move to take one's eyes off their opponent, especially so early in the match and Lan Zhan quickly glanced up and found his friend watching the Wen Sect Leader who gave a single solemn nod.
When his gaze returned to Wen Ying he saw the boy's smile shift to something dangerous as he became a whirl of black and red fabric. He crossed the ring at a speed the Jin was unable to match and swung his sword up from the left to the right across the Jin heir’s chest, kicking the boy heavily in the knee when the swing was blocked. In a matter of seconds, the tone of the fight completely changed as he began a rapid, unpredictable sequence of moves that Lan Wangji had never seen before, and was almost certain these were not the traditional Wen Sect forms. One minute the boy moved like a ribbon in the wind the next he was delivering a bone-crushing blow more suited for a saber than a sword, it was truly fascinating.
Jin Zixuan was sent sprawling out of the ring and Wen Wuxian stood completely still, looking like a statue of a somber warrior until the bell rang once more signaling the end of the match and thus his victory. The second the bell rang the cheerful boy he knew was back and already over helping Jin Zixuan up and chattering with him, seemingly complimenting his technique.
“Thank the heavens,” Wen Ning muttered under his breath as the tension seeped out of his shoulders.
Lan Wangji sharply glanced over at the boy, wondering what such a reaction was about.
“What is it Wen-Xiong?” Nie Huaisang voiced the question he found himself unable to ask.
“Thi- Young Master Wen was seeking permission from Sect Leader Wen to use a non-traditional style.”
“And why does that mean the heavens should be thanked?” Nie Huaisang pressed, flicking his fan shut as if for emphasis.
“We… for a head disciple to use a different style than their original style isn’t always… taken well. So he needed to get permission from the Sect Leader before he did so publicly. But at the same time, Young Master Wen is incredibly versed in sword forms so from Young Master Jin's first move he determined that an alternative set of sword forms would be better suited than the Wen Sect's main style. Hence, he bothered making such a request as Unc- Sect Leader Wen likes when Young Master Wen utilizes his skills.”
“Ah,” Nie Huaisang snapped his fan open once more so he could hide behind it “I’m so glad I don’t need to fight.”
It was a different style completely, he realized, that’s why he’d never seen it before.
Wen Ying was certainly full of surprises.
—----------------------
“Lan Zhan! What a surprise!” he could barely keep his smile from stretching wider. He’d been waiting for this match, and thankfully he had made it all the way to the semi-finals which meant that if he stepped out this round no one would think any less of him. It hadn't really been a concern of his though, he was confident in both his training and his abilities, he could easily beat most cultivators in the tournament but he'd been sticking with the Qishan style up until this point out of respect for his father.
His friend, unsurprisingly, remained silent but still gave a nod of greeting which had been unexpected but not unpleasant, he'd take whatever Lan Zhan gave him after all.
The bell rang and he came to life.
He danced across the ring, switching between styles as fluidly as flames spread through oil. Lan Zhan’s forms were impeccable, the perfect Lan disciple truly, he was so familiar with them that his moves were reflexively perfect something the Wen Ying couldn’t help but envy but he knew far too many styles to ever be able to fight with just the Wen forms at this point.
He could see Lan Zhan’s momentary surprise before it was overcome by determination every time he changed styles or strategies, it was truly wonderful to fight someone in this manner. No disciples in Qishan would truly spar with him anymore, and he couldn’t keep fighting Wen Xu, Wen Qionglin, and Wen Zhuliu forever as they too eventually ran out of new tricks.
In fact, the sparring was so intense that at one point, when their swords had been locked together he pushed some of his yin into the sword causing the talisman patterns to glow with light and flicker giving the illusion that his sword had ignited. He’d laughed at Lan Zhan’s startled expression and withdrawal from the lock before quickly stopping the flow of yin in such a manner to prevent it from being too obvious that he didn’t have an actual golden core. Such a move was far riskier than he was supposed to be but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to silently tease his friend even now.
Eventually, once they were nearing the time limit and he’d lasted long enough to win the bet with his brother he decided to end things.
He made eye contact with Lan Zhan and when the boy retreated across the ring to regroup and begin his next approach he stepped out of the ring, making sure his actions proved to be quite deliberate.
“This one thanks the Second Young Master Lan for such a wonderful and educational match, unfortunately, the time limit is 11 minutes and we reached 10 minutes and 15 seconds. Have fun sparring with The First Young Master Lan!” he smiled brightly and bowed politely. Once Lan Zhan returned the bow he walked off of the raised platform on which the ring was placed altogether.
“Da-ge! I won the bet, pay up!” he called in the direction of those from his sect who'd been watching the match alongside his father. He knew his brother couldn’t respond now but he’d pay him later in private, a bet was a bet after all. Wen Xu just didn't tend to have luck in gambling, at least not against his youngest didi.
—---------------------
The match with his brother ended in a draw as they both knew they were evenly matched and could likely go on for days, as his Xiongzhang had good-naturedly explained as they both stepped out at the same time.
Wen Ning had placed First in Archery, Wen Ying Second, his brother Third, The Jiang Heir fourth, and Jin Zixuan fifth. He’d decided to not enter the archery competition, finding that it wasn’t really an event he cared all that much about.
Wen Ying had come first in the Night Hunt, which hadn’t surprised him.
Maybe he could've been first but he was still so distracted by the sparring match two days before combined with the interaction where Wen Ying had told him his forehead ribbon was crooked he’d lost precious time. He wasn’t too upset about it though, he never placed much worth on his ranking within the cultivation world, he was competent and capable of aiding his brother and sect which was really all he cared about. Who needed to place first in cultivation conferences?
—----------------------
The hour before the announcement had been the most stressful of his life, he hadn’t been able to interact with Lan Zhan outside of their duel and the brief period he could spare during the Night Hunt. He really hoped his friend wouldn’t hate him for this.
He pulled the formal robes on with the help of Li Xingjuan and Qiao Bia, grimacing at the sheer amount of fabric that he needed to wear but not voicing such feelings as servants began to intricately work his hair into a style befitting of the Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen in such a formal setting. After today he'd be back in his usual lightweight robes with just his mother's ribbon to hold back his hair, but this was about first impressions, about maintaining and cultivating the image of his father and sect.
This wasn't really about him despite it being his introduction to the eyes of the public.
He’d made his way down the winding back halls and eventually stepped onto the dais in the area that was hidden by a thick red curtain.
“Now,” his father said as he rose, having apparently sensed his youngest son’s arrival despite being unable to see him. “I have an announcement to make.”
Taking a deep breath he smoothed his facial expression and prepared himself.
—---------------------
“Now,” Wen Ruohan stood up, and instantly the room fell silent. “I have an announcement to make. Many of you may feel confused by what I am about to say, and many more will be surprised or even outraged but I must advise you not to do anything that may jeopardize the safety of those you care for.” The smile he gave was full of nothing but malice and the slightest bit of maniacal glee, a warning, and a promise all rolled into one. “In Qishan we have a tendency to take extra… precautions when it comes to securing the safety of our bloodline. As some of you may recall we do not publicly introduce some of our main family until much later in life though that does not make them any less important.” he paused at that, eyes sweeping the room as if to nail in the importance of what he’d just said. “That being said I would like to formally introduce my third, and Youngest Son, Wen Wuxian.”
Then a figure draped in black and red stepped forward, gold stitched in the patterns of suns and flames, red embroidery hemming the edges of the sleeves and bottom of the robes in the shape of flowers. The sword that hung at the cultivator’s waste was intricately carved in ebony with a Dizi of black bamboo resting on the other hip. On their face was a slight smile, as if they were laughing at a joke no one else was privy to.
Wen Ying.
He realized, air freezing in his lungs.
That was Wen Ying.
He’d heard the Wen Sect Leader say the words 'my son, Wen Wuxian' but he hadn’t truly processed the full implications of those words until his friend was standing beside the Wen sect leader, his father, dressed in the finest robes of the Wen sect, second only to Wen Ruohan’s.
His friend bowed, perfectly smooth and at just the right height for someone of his rank. There was no way this was the same boy who’d gifted him rabbits just six months ago, right?
“Greetings, I’m sure my existence comes as a surprise to all of you,” the voice he used was smooth and calm, flowing over the room and he could’ve sworn he saw people relax the second he’d opened his mouth and sounded far more reasonable and sane than the rest of his family. He'd seen Wen Ying's diplomatic abilities before, when he'd apologized for Wen Chao's behavior but he also knew his friend seldom if ever used them after that incident. “That being said, this announcement has come after much deliberation and it’s nice to be properly introduced or even reintroduced to many of you. On behalf of my father and sect, I’d like to thank you all for attending Qishan’s Bi-annual discussion conference.” With that, he offered another polite bow and righted himself before turning to look expectantly at his father.
—--------------
He’d always known something was off about his friend, the spies they sent to the Wen Sect had never mentioned him by name in all their letters which had been his first clue, they'd speak of all manner of subjects but never of the boy in black.
Then the easy manner with which the boy slid between chaotic and troublesome to mature and in charge had been another clue. He still remembered the voice that he’d used to order Wen Ning to stand down when taking his punishment, which now that he thought about it, was likely never mentioned to Wen Ruohan as the Cloud Recesses was still standing.
The last hint had been how all the Wen Sect Disciples interacted with him over the past few days, the amount of respect they’d shown and the levels of protectiveness and loyalty he saw implied that Wen Wuxian had a bit more significance within the sect than merely head disciple, though admittedly he had not expected him to be a third secret son of Wen Ruohan, he’d expected some relation yes, perhaps a nephew or son of a best friend but not an actual third son.
He spared a glance at his brother who undoubtedly had put the pieces together from his stories and figured out his Wen friend was now what they knew to be Wen Ruohan’s son. He’d need to speak with his brother about not doing anything too rash after all Wen Wuxian had been very careful to avoid talking about sect business aside from a few instances during his stay at the Cloud Recesses, as if he feared he’d be accused of a spy and backstabber when his true identity was revealed.
He had to respect that.
—----------------
He’d gone drinking with the Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen, holy shit.
A lot of things made more sense, odd things he’d just dismissed for the eccentricities of being someone as chaotic and brilliant as Wen Wuxian were easily explained with this revelation.
The seeming dichotomy also made more sense, the way the boy transitioned between temperaments as if he was merely changing his robes, it was now explained by something other than insanity thanks to this introduction.
“Is that your friend, didi?” his sister asked him quietly from behind her teacup, not daring to shatter the silence that blanketed the room.
“Yeah, I didn’t know he was…” he trailed off and figured she’d catch his drift.
“It’s quite a surprise for everyone I'm sure," she said with a soft, understanding smile.
—----------------
Well, this certainly changed things.
Perhaps Uncle would be more open to Lan Wangji’s feelings towards the boy, but then this also meant that Wen Ruohan would now be a much larger factor than he’d initially expected.
This was Wen Ruohan’s youngest son.
That was a huge deal.
The entire dynamic shifted now, Wen Wuxian was now on an equal playing field with Wangji politically, maybe even more powerful considering the status of the Wen Sect within the cultivation world. This made everything both more simple and more complex, he could feel a slight headache coming on at the mere thought of how he'd manage to get his brother and Wen Wuxian courting now.
Then the reality settled over him like ice.
His Clan had punished the Third Young Master Wen and had struck him over a hundred times.
The third young master didn’t seem like the kind of person to go around demanding vengeance and seeking retribution from them but the wrath of Wen Ruohan over the safety and happiness of one of his sons was not something that they could afford to take lightly.
Hopefully, there were no hard feelings, he thought to himself and barely contained his wince as he brought his tea to his lips.
—----------------
That made him feel a bit better about his rapid knockout a few days earlier, he could also see his father’s annoyance as if the announcement of yet another son in the Wen Sect had rained on his eternal egocentric parade.
The boy had been nice enough during their stay at the Cloud Recesses, had even prevented the Jiang Heir from punching him a second time, and quietly explained to him afterward that he had the power to call off the engagement but dragging a nice young maiden’s name through the mud would only make him look pitiful, not her.
It had been a bit of a reality check, something that he didn’t really get in Koi Towerr with everyone being afraid of pissing his father off, he’d noticed it yes, but after he’d returned from the Cloud Recesses he’d begun to actively work to separate himself from his father. Now he was actually friends with his disciples and the servants were much friendlier to him rather than just polite.
It was nice, he owed Wen Wuxian a thank you.
—---------------
Watching the realization settle in was quite the sight to see, the vastly different responses made him want to laugh while others made him feel a little unsettled.
Some people, like Sect Leader Yao and Sect Leader Jin, looked irritated for a moment before they quickly hid their feelings under false cheery smiles.
Nie Huaisang didn’t seem too surprised which was good, hopefully, he’d be able to temper his elder brother who was infamous for hating the Wens, which Wen Wuxian couldn’t really begrudge him for as his father had probably killed the late Nie Sect Leader. (who was he kidding, has father definitely had but no one was stupid enough to personally accuse the chief cultivator and sect leader of a powerful sect of an act as barbaric as murder and through such dishonorable means as sabotage of a spiritual tool.) Maybe Sect Leader Nie remembered their meeting a while back and that would allow him to continue to be friends with Huaisang.
Jin Zixuan seemed fine, actually a bit relieved even, based on the knockout he’d gotten earlier his announcement would make the outcome of their match a bit more acceptable.
Jiang Cheng seemed to be having a hushed conversation with his sister and based on the little bit he could lip-read the boy didn’t seem upset, merely surprised.
Lan Xichen looked like he’d been mauled by a Lion Dog, he’d need to reassure the man that his sect wouldn’t be punished for the Alcohol incident, after all, he had made sure his father didn’t hear about it, well he’d heard the vague details along the lines of ‘some people were punished aren’t the rules in the Lan Sect crazy?’ but nothing more. He wasn't one to take revenge (and definitely not over something so small), especially not the type of revenge his father would want (most likely their heads).
The last person he’d watched, and arguably the most important, was Lan Zhan.
He’d seen the boy’s surprise before his signature icy facade made an appearance once again. He really hoped that all his friend was, was surprised, he wasn’t sure if he could handle the boy being angry at him. Well, even if he was that wouldn’t change the fact that he would do everything in his power to make sure the Gusu Lan stayed safe.
—-----------------
Wen Wuxian descended from the dais, leaving a seat empty immediately to the left of his father, in favor of sitting among the Dafan Wen who were placed slightly down and to the right, amongst all the other sects, flanked by Wen Qing and Wen Ning.
Everyone, including himself, held their breath, waiting to see what Wen Ruohan’s reaction would be to such blatant disobedience from his son, and in front of all the sects on his first day in the public eye no less.
Wen Ruohan watched Wen Ying, raising an eyebrow when the boy glanced up at him expectantly and Lan Wangji sent a silent prayer to the ancestors (or really anyone at this point) as he waited to see what would happen, yet Wen Wuxian simply smiled brightly at his father who, after a moment’s pause, seemed to accept what wasn’t being said, and began eating, a sign that everyone else could now do the same.
The gesture immediately set everyone at ease once more, there wasn’t about to be a fight breaking out between the father and his newly announced son.
He carefully picked up his own chopsticks and began to tentatively eat, carefully watching his friend out of the corner of his eye. To his shock, he found the food that had been served to him wasn’t overly spicy as it often was in Qishan. Glancing down and then over at his brother’s dish he realized that the meals placed in front of them were quite similar to, if not perfect recreations of those typically found in Caiyi Town and were perfectly executed.
His brother seemed to notice as well and appeared equally surprised, though his reaction was not obvious, just a slight crease in his brow and a small smile both of which were quickly smoothed away.
He glanced over at Wen Ying and found the boy watching him intently, upon catching his eye he found himself on the receiving end of a brilliant smile before the boy turned away and began chatting with a boy he’d only ever seen in the duels who wore a sharp smile. The Wen Sect disciples came to life when their Third Young Master spoke to them, each laughing, nodding, and smiling as they began to exchange stories of the sword matches in the days prior, some complete with reenactments based on the way they held up their arms and made extravagant gestures.
At least that part of him hasn’t changed, he couldn’t help but think albeit a bit bitterly. That wasn’t really fair of him though, Wen Ying likely wasn’t allowed to say anything about who he was, he’d even expressed his surprise at being able to attend the lectures at all. If the Wens were truly so protective of him then he could only imagine how it limited his freedoms. Perhaps it was why he’d hated the wall of rules so much as well....
He abandoned the train of thought and returned his focus to his meal, he should not be spying on his friend in public, that was pathetic, he'd be able to speak to him later, after dinner when everyone began to mingle and some of the less virtuous Sect Leaders became drunk.
—--------------------
“Nie-Xiong!” the boy appeared out of the corner of his eye just as he’d stood from his seat.
“Third Young Master Wen,” he said slyly, flicking open his fan, careful to shield his face in case his impeccable control over his expressions failed him.
“Don’t give me that, you know how I detest titles,” the boy said with an exaggerated eye roll. The statement was confirmed by a very aggressive and eager nod from Xue Yang, someone he recognized from the sword fights based on Wen Ning’s commentary, who was standing next to Wen Wuxian like both a guard dog and a lost puppy.
That made him chuckle, seemed like his friend was still the same after all.
“Third Young Master Wen,” his brother’s voice came from behind him. “Or should I keep calling you Yuan Honghui?”
“Sect leader Nie may refer to this one by either of those names but after such a memorable Night Hunt, Wen Wuxian is also on the table.” His friend bowed respectfully, a hint of mischief in his eye as he did so.
“Yuan Honghui?” he couldn’t help but ask. He had the feeling he was being left out of a joke, a feeling he admittedly hated.
“Wen Wuxian here crossed paths with me on a Night Hunt along our border with Qishan, passed himself off as a rogue cultivator, and called himself Yuan Honghui.” His brother explained, no resentment in his voice as he did so which was surprising but he took it as a good sign.
“It’s not every day one gets to fight a Yao in the form of a tiger Sect Leader Nie! There was no way I was going to let you have all the fun.”
His brother rolled his eyes and Nie Huaisang was immensely confused as his friend moved along to mingle with other Sect Leaders.
“You know, of all the Wens that one isn’t half bad.” his brother said in a gruff tone that was the closest thing to fondness he’d ever heard his brother use for anyone outside of a few Nies and Lan Xichen. “You make good friends A-sang,” he placed a hand on his shoulder and then vanished.
What the fuck.
—-----------------------
He’d lost Xue Yang not long after talking with Jiang Cheng, the boy having opted to continue the conversation and ask about the Jiang fighting style finding it would be the most challenging for him to attack and defend.
“Young Master Lan,” he said, bowing as Lan Xichen turned and quickly returned the bow. “I hope you’ll allow this one to apologize for keeping such a secret.”
“Ah," the Lan looked unsure for a second but quickly recovered, "I assure you Third Young Master Wen there are no hard feelings.”
“I must confess there is another secret though I ask you to keep it as well,” he smiled in the most reassuring way he could. “The Alcohol incident happened with a few disciples whose names and sects I couldn’t quite remember as it was not of any significance. I was wondering if you happened to also have forgotten who they were because if not, you have permission to do so.”
He saw the second the Lan realized he was being given an out and he could’ve sworn the man looked close to fainting from relief.
“Thank you, Third-”
“Wen Wuxian,” he smiled wryly.
“I see... thank you, Wen Wuxian, for your understanding.”
“It is of no concern,” he waved his hand. “After all, what is a favor among friends?”
“Have you spoken with Wangji yet?” Lan Xichen asked him, a slight change in his tone that Wen Wuxian couldn't quite place.
That made him have to actively keep himself from shifting uncomfortably, he’d been delaying that conversation for as long as he could but it was nearing nine which meant the Lans would be turning in for the night. He was admittedly scared of his friend’s reaction to the revelation, which is why he was speaking with his brother right now, trying to gauge how worried he should be.
“Uh," he said elegantly before quietly admitting, "not yet.”
“I believe you should,” came the even reply.
Damnit.
Bowing politely he said “This one thanks Lan Xichen for his advice.”
—-------------------
He saw his brother speaking with Wen Ying who looked mildly uncomfortable but hid it incredibly well which prompted him to walk over.
“Second Young Master Lan,” Wen Ying bowed again and his heart ached with the formality of it.
“Wen Ying,” he said as he bowed in response, hoping that the simple words would somehow convey the depth of his emotions.
“I’ll be taking my leave now,” his brother said meekly before promptly bowing and heading off to speak with Sect Leader Nie.
“Sorry,” Wen Ying blurted out once his brother left.
“Sorry?” he repeated intelligently.
“For not telling you,” the boy elaborated, clearly looking nervous though he tried to pretend he wasn’t. “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, it was on Sect Lead- sorry, my father’s orders, and well I couldn’t really disobey. If I told anyone I wouldn’t be able to study at the Cloud Recesses and I just need a break-”
“No need.”
“No need? Lan Zhan, there’s all the need!” the boy looked ready to begin another self-deprecating ramble so he quickly cut in. He wasn’t interrupting, that was rude, he was simply reassuring his friend in a time of obvious distress.
“No need for thank you or sorry between us.” It was the most he could get, the easiest way to say all that he couldn’t. Wen Ying was so important to him that he would always give and forgive. Such was his fate.
“Aiya, you’re truly too good Lan Zhan.” the boy sighed and looked at the ground before looking back up once more and smiling, “Well then I guess I’m lucky to have a friend as awesome as you!”
He would’ve loved to stay and talk, well… listen to Wen Ying talk, longer but he felt the exhaustion hit his body as the clock struck nine. It must’ve shown on his face because the boy did a quick glance past him and must’ve realized the time as well.
“I won’t keep Lan Zhan from his beauty sleep,” he laughed quietly to himself, “I’ll see you sometime before you head home.”
“Mm,” was all he managed to say before Wen Ying vanished just after bowing, into the steadily circulating crowd of cultivators, each one vying for a brief moment of his time.
—------------------
The next few days were filled with his father settling disputes between the sects as he did each discussion conference, it was something he hated. It was so well known that everyone was extra careful in each of their tasks so as not to make a mistake and invite his wrath upon themselves in the days following each and every conference. Even he didn’t enjoy being near his father in the days following such a conference and now he understood why his father hated them so much. The first few days were fun, yes, but then when it came to the political aspects every single decision was a fight. Arguments over the smallest technicalities could last for hours and he often found his father would side with whoever was less annoying if the issue was too small to have any impact on either sect in the short or long term.
He also learned that Sect Leader Yao and Sect Leader Jin were Wen Chao’s rivals in terms of arrogance and irritation, often trying to bully smaller sects into decisions without ever involving his father, which more often than not dragged decisions on for even longer and caused discussions to continue well into the early hours of the morning in an attempt to finish all of them in the allotted time frame of 3 days.
Even his friends looked bored, not even Nie Huaisang was paying attention by the last day. He had watched the boy a bit more closely as he was well aware his meek persona and supposed stupidity were all just an act in order to make others underestimate him. It was an admirable act and one that he’d been carrying on for as long as Wen Wuxian could remember hearing stories about the boy, though he supposed it made sense, after all the Nies were just as vicious when it came to their family as the Wens were.
By the end of the conference, he was relieved for it to be over and glad he hadn’t been introduced sooner otherwise he would’ve had to attend each and everyone up until this point. He mentally dry-heaved at the thought.
That didn't mean he liked saying goodbye anymore though.
He wasn’t allowed the luxury of emotional goodbyes in public but in private he spoke with each of his friends before it was time for their respective sects to leave. He offered advice and promised he’d do his best to visit them soon.
War was on the horizon.
He didn’t know who would be struck first but he’d heard whispers throughout the sect.
He warned his friends as such but also said he didn’t know when the first blow would come or who it would fall upon.
Three short months later, Gusu burned.
Chapter 13: the Whims of Wens
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He could still see the smoke in the distance, wafting steadily up into the air only to be swept out across the sky by the wind turning it into an ugly black smear. An ink stain where his home used to be on a usually pristine sky.
His whole life was gone.
Everything.
The place that has- had been his home since birth was now nothing but a memory. The Cloud Recess was his home, a place of memories and years lived, where he'd grown up and trained, where he'd developed a golden core and first wielded Bichen, and where he'd learned his first notes on his guqin. It was filled with memories of his mother and brother, of his uncle and father, of Wen Ying.
It didn't feel real.
None of it did.
He expected to wake up any moment in a cold sweat, gasping for air with trembling hands.
but it never happened.
This wasn't a dream.
It wasn't even a nightmare.
It was something so much worse.
He was in shock, he knew that much.
He was only functioning because the reality of the situation hadn't quite set in just yet, and he was almost grateful for it. It was probably the sole reason he was still alive right now, that and the promise that had been made before the Wens had left.
The Wens had come, led by Wen Xu.
It had been a surprise, though not a complete one.
Wen Ying had warned them of war.
Of his father’s steady decline into blood thirst and desperation, though his friend didn't use those words.
He’d spared the details, not that his friend had many he knew as facts, but he could tell the normally bright and cheerful boy was deadly serious and the burden clearly rested heavily on his shoulders despite being able to do nothing more than convey a warning at the time. It made him wish he could reach out and pull the Wen into a hug, to reassure him it would all be okay and that he'd done enough for them, had done more than anyone expected.
Yet even with the preparations they had made it hadn’t been enough.
They’d hidden the most valuable texts in the cold pond cave, something that proved to be wise when the Library Pavilion burned.
The Wens spared no structures, once they shattered the wards they set every single building alight from the ancestral hall to the guest houses to the forges. Nothing was sparred. They’d started with the most critical buildings, the medical buildings, the kitchens, the food stores, and the hearts of the wards. They went for the jugular of the sect.
The flames rose, engulfing entire buildings before reaching ever higher as if challenging the ancestors themselves to descend from the heavens and stop the inferno's consumption.
His uncle had ordered his brother to go once they realized his father was dead, telling him he was now the Lan Sect Leader and needed to stay alive. Which his brother had initially resisted but ultimately obeyed, leaving via the back mountain as tears glistened in his eyes.
The Wens had overwhelmed any resistance from the sect with both sheer number and the element of surprise, having attacked at the first light of dawn, leaving the Cloud Recesses in chaos as sect members, young and old alike, were caught off guard and desperately scrambled to protect their home before realizing their attempts were futile.
Fortunately, many of those still alive and had been injured were not fatally wounded. There were still casualties though, his father had refused to evacuate, others had been caught in buildings as they collapsed, and many more were killed in their efforts to repel the Wens and buy their fellow sect members time.
And as he had turned to leave he gave one last message.
“The Second Young Master Lan is to attend the guest lectures in Qishan in one week’s time.”
The or else we will return was unsaid but unmistakable.
So here he was, now making his way to Qishan in the hopes of sparing his sect, unsure if he’d ever return home.
—----------------------
His Da-ge had been gone for eight days when he finally was told why.
He’d initially been informed it was a training exercise for the troops, taking them to the border and back as an intimidation tactic, something that was not uncommon nowadays. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, busy with his preparation to slowly and silently evacuate his disciples before they’d be forced to join the army. It was on that day during one such planning session that Xue Yang informed him that he’d been eavesdropping on the throne room and Wen Xu had actually been headed to the Cloud Recesses not merely the border.
They’d razed it to the ground and were now on their way home.
They’d killed Lan Qingheng-Jun which now made Lan Xichen the Sect Leader though he was missing and rumored to be dead. Lan Wangji would be attending the indoctrination camp or they’d kill any survivors.
He knew immediately what was to happen.
His father had suggested an indoctrination lesson for the sect heirs and he’d assumed that would happen before he made any moves against the major sects. Obviously, this was no longer the case, he needed to pivot and change plans, and that was something he could do.
“Wen Ning, A-Yang, I need you to do something for me.” He said when they were finally in his chambers alongside Wen Qing and there were silencing talismans plastered all over the door and walls to ensure no one would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation and get all of them executed for treason.
“I need the two of you to go to the Cloud Recesses." He said with a sigh and pinched brow. "A-Yang I need you to make sure Lan Xichen stays safe, he will be the future of the Lan Sect.”
The boy nodded eagerly, he always loved solo tasks, and his sharp persona made it difficult to work with others, to say the least, but Wen Wuxian knew the boy could be mature when he needed to be.
“I also need you to make sure Lan Xichen does not know you are helping him right away, he may be hesitant to accept help from a Wen in any capacity even if you tell him you’re my head disciple and if you show yourself to early he might get spooked and try and find you and since he’s likely injured that wouldn’t be good for either of you…. but please help anyone that helps him.”
“That it?” the boy said, already halfway to the door.
“No, actually, come here,” when the boy did so he reached out and pulled his disciple into a hug, earning him a startled squawk and a half-hearted protest. He released the boy after a few seconds and sighed, “Stay safe A-Yang, please.”
“When do I not?” the boy asked with an all too familiar mischievous grin.
“I MEAN IT!” He called after the boy as he left the room, eager to set out. “He better not get himself killed.”
"He can survive your food he can survive anything," Wen Qing grumbled and he tried to protest it as when Wen Ning snorted out a laugh.
When it was just him and the siblings and Wen Ning had gotten a hold of himself he turned to his Captain “Wen Ning, I need you to help Lan Qiren, take 10 or so personal disciples with you and as many supplies as you can, especially healing supplies. I will hide yours and their families. Do not return to Qishan afterward because it will likely result in your execution, and do not wear the White Wen Robes either.”
Wen Qing pursed her lips and he waited for her to object to what he’d said, to the plan, to all of it but she merely nodded her head in silent agreement. He was glad she too found that this plan had more pros than cons. They also didn’t have too many options on the table as to how to get the disciples and families out as everything was happening faster than he’d planned, damn his father's quick anger. He couldn't send more disciples either because then they wouldn't be able to pass off as a night hunt nor would he be able to hide all of their families, he'd have to send more later. Gusu hadn’t even done anything to deserve this and now they’d been used as an example to all the cultivation world as to what may happen to them should they resist his sect, should they not send their heirs and disciples for indoctrination, should his father be angered by them.
“A-are you sure? You could be punished.” It was touching his friend was so worried for his safety even after he’d been granted pretty much the perfect one way trip out of hell.
“Your sister is far too valuable to be hurt by my father and-” he began but was promptly cut off by the healer.
“I will be fine A-Ning, if you and our family make it out then it will make it more difficult for Uncle to have any control over me.” She didn't mention that she would gladly lay down her life to keep her family safe, something Wen Wuxian was well aware of and would do everything in his power to prevent.
“O-okay,” the boy stuttered out.
“I’ll write to you with more instructions after the indoctrination camp depending on how it goes.” He said as his friend bowed and gave him a small smile and left.
“You know you could be killed for this right?” Wen Qing said from beside him, still watching the door her brother left through.
“I know,” he sighed and hung his head, “but it’d kill me to know I had not done everything in my power to protect as many people as possible.”
“You’ll make a great Sect Leader, Wuxian.” was all Wen Qing said before she left to go attend to his father, something that was becoming a more frequent occurrence as the resentful energy steadily built up within the man.
—---------------
He was the first to arrive of all the disciples, since, as the Wens put it, his invitation had been personally delivered by their First Young Master.
But over the next few days the other sects arrived, from the major sect heirs, Jiang Wanyin, Jin Zixuan, and Nie Huaisang, to the ones so small he wasn’t even sure of their names or if they were even anything more than clans. Some brought disciples with them but his sect desperately needed everyone available to help rebuild and tend to the wounded.
“Wangji-xiong” Nie Huaisang hissed quietly, appearing beside him flanked by three Nie Disciples who all looked ready to rip into any of the Wen Servants who came even a centimeter too close to their Young Master if they dared even breathe wrong near him. It is something he completely understood given the Nie and Wen Sects’ history and also his own experience with them.
He didn’t respond verbally but he glanced over at the Second Young Master Nie in a silent acknowledgment, to show he'd heard him and wasn't ignoring him.
“I heard the news, I’m very sorry, are you okay? Your family?” the boy said quietly, eyes never leaving the various Wen Sect Servants and Disciples scattered throughout the terrace where everyone was being herded to.
“Uncle is fine, brother is missing,” he responded shortly, he tried not to dwell on the continued absence of his brother, his only solace was that if the Wens had captured him they would’ve been sure to flaunt it to all the world. So for now he reminded himself no news was good news, even if it hurt.
Nie Huaisang nodded slowly, as if in thought, “And you?” there were other questions that remained unasked but he knew they were there, hanging silently between them, an opportunity to try and lighten the weight that rested on his shoulders and made it difficult to breathe if he dwelled on it for too long.
“Mm,” but he couldn’t help the next few words. “My left leg is broken but I saw the healer before I left.”
“I’m sorry what?” the Jiang Heir whisper yelled from where he appeared beside Nie Huaisang, he had four disciples with him, each dressed in purple and eyeing the Wens with almost as much venom as the Nies.
“You flew all the way here from Gusu on a broken leg?” Nie Huaisang looked alarmed.
“I walked for some of it,” he said after a beat. It looked like the oldest Jiang disciple was about to qi deviate on the spot, he pushed past his young master after a moment's hesitation as if debating whether to ask permission for what he was about to do.
“This one is Jiang Tao, I am an assistant healer within the Jiang Sect. Should your leg worsen please let me know and I will do my best to help you prevent permanent damage.” The boy said giving a small bow that was enough to show respect but not enough to draw the attention of the Wens around them.
The Jiang Heir nodded in agreement with his disciple, “We’re all going to have to look out for each other here, even that stupid peacock” he jerked his thumb to point somewhere behind him which almost startled a laugh out of him when the Jin Heir made an offended face, having apparently heard the nickname but didn’t yell so as not to draw any unwanted attention to himself or his disciples.
“Silence, all of you, don’t talk!” a Wen servant stepped towards them and they all quickly shut up and glanced up at the platform where a figure was standing.
The boy above them was probably only a few years older than he was and Lan Wangji knew who he was instantly, even if he didn't recognize him from when he'd dropped of Wen Ying and his cousins in the Cloud Recesses. With greasy hair, a haughty expression, and features that looked like they’d never heard of the word ‘handsome’ the Second Young Master of the Qishan Wen and Wen Ying’s elder brother, Wen Chao, was unmistakable. The boy’s vanity ensured he was a well-recognized figure among the sects, almost as recognizable as his father. On his left stood a girl he’d never seen before, she was dressed in elaborate robes that a consort or concubine might wear with long brows, crimson lips, and a mole that was placed in an almost unnatural spot. On his right stood a broad-shouldered man that after a few seconds he realized was the infamous core-melting hand, Wen Zhuliu.
Wen Chao stared down at all of them, “Now, one by one, each of you will hand over your swords.”
He felt his hand clench beside him, turning over Bichen would leave him completely defenseless, not to mention he wouldn’t be able to make it far on foot should he need to escape.
“Swords should always accompany those who cultivate,” someone called from the crowd. “Why do you want us to hand over our swords?”
‘What are you planning?’ is what Lan Wangji heard, It was a sentiment he agreed with but he felt it was foolish to voice it when they were at such a drastic disadvantage.
“Which one of you spoke? From which sect do you hail? Stand forward on your own since you are feeling so bold!” Wen Chao huffed, when no response came and no one came forward he smiled harshly, looking more like a snarling beast than a person. “It’s exactly because there are disciples like you, who know nothing of conduct, compliance, or humility, that I am here to teach you such things so your cores don’t rot away!”
Lan Wangji barely contained the way his lip twitched at the irony of the message and messenger, should the situation have been even slightly less dire he might've even laughed.
Wen Chao continued on with his hypocritical tirade “You’re already so ignorantly audacious. If your customs aren’t straightened up now, then in the future there’d naturally be those who question the Wen Sect’s Authority and attempt to climb on top of its head!”
So that’s what this came down to.
Power.
All of the cultivation’s world boiled down to three things.
Money, land, and power.
Both of the latter brought power, so ultimately no matter how it was justified or the reasons people came up with it all came down to power.
Of course, this was no different.
Everyone knew that he’d asked for their swords with ill intentions. With the Qishan Wen Sect being so powerful everyone present knew they needed to tread carefully. The disciples and heirs were terrified that should they defy him in any way, should they bring his attention to them, his displeasure that they, and their sect, would be accused and punished. With this in mind, disciples began to reluctantly, one at a time hand over their swords to the Wen Servants who passed between them.
“Second Young Master Lan? You’re sword,” the Servant in front of him asked, he slowly removed Bichen from his back and had just placed it into the servant’s hands when he recognized the face. Wen Heng flashed him the smallest of smiles, barely even the ghost of one. If he'd blinked he would've missed it, but before he could say anything the man had moved on, but not before dropping something small at the Lan’s feet, an action that went unnoticed by all around them.
He shifted, using the hem of his robe to cover whatever it was.
He would pick it up later.
—----------------
The food was incredibly bland.
Even by his standards, despite eating what Wen Ying liked to call the traditional meals of the Gusu Lan, rabbit food, he figured this was far closer to that than his typical diet.
He almost smiled at the thought then the painful reminder of what had become of his home dampened his mood once more.
Many of the disciples were not fairing well with it, especially the younger ones who were less experienced with inedia.
That combined with the mix of standing under the scorching sun reading lines from some propaganda booklet called the “Quintessence of the Wen Sect” that Wen Chao had made the servants give to everyone and the random days with intense farmwork many people’s bodies were beginning to show signs of the toll it was taking. At night the Wen Sect Heir would make pointless rambling speeches about the glory of the Wen Sect and how they would rise above all others, would rage about how worthless and undeserving every other sect was, how people so ‘uncivilized’ could dare to call themselves cultivators. He would practically scream himself hoarse every night and they were all expected to cheer and applaud him for his ‘genius intellect.’ Was this really what Wen Ying grew up with? It didn’t even seem possible. The difference between his friend and his brothers was like night and day.
It seemed Jin Zixuan handled it the worst, having been coddled for the vast majority of his life, the boy had made recent efforts to change that and become more of a leader rather than a brat, something Lan Wangji respected and greatly appreciated but it was not enough to prepare him for the indoctrination apparently. The verbal humiliation that Wen Chao spewed was something completely unfamiliar to the Jin Heir but he never made any move that could’ve endangered his sect, something he greatly respected.
Then Wen Chao had started taking them on Night hunts, he’d make them run at the very front. They’d scout the path, distract the demon, ghost, or whatever it was they were hunting they would fight with all their might, many getting injured due to the lack of proper tools, he wasn’t sure but maybe, the swords the Wens had taken would have been helpful. Then, at the very last second, after hanging back the whole time Wen Chao would swoop in and decapitate the being that had already been half beaten to death by everyone else and go around boasting about a victory he’d achieved all by himself.
Some had become injured or been whipped by Wen Chao or his mistress which only made it harder, he was so incredibly thankful for the packet of healing herbs Wen Heng had dropped at his feet. It was an act he would need to repay one day, especially with his initial distrust at the discussion conference months ago.
Clearly, not all Wens were bad, or even subservient to their temperamental young masters in the hopes of staying out of harm’s way
It made him think of Wen Ying.
Did his friend know what was happening?
He found it unlikely the boy didn’t but he also suspected there was not much he could do.
Based on his brief warning he did not have enough sway on his father or brothers to do anything major, he may be able to save some people but at the end of the day, Lan Wangji knew this was something he’d likely need to endure alone.
—-----------------
When he and the eleven disciples landed outside where the gates of the Cloud Recesses used to stand he stopped them.
“Do not enter, we do not want to think we are here to harm them,” he said smoothly. His stutter had massively improved and now only came out when he was overwhelmed by intense unexpected emotions, it was, something that had been an issue in his youth but he'd long since outgrown. He knew it helped him appear as less of a threat, something that could both help him and screw him over. Though they were not wearing Wen Sect Robes he doubted the Lan Sect would trust them, let alone let them freely enter their home.
“Wen Qionglin,” one of the disciples said lowly, careful not to make any sudden moves “Look.”
He calmly turned to face forward once more and found several Lan sect cultivators holding swords, at least twenty if he were to guess.
Taking a deep breath he did something that he was sure surprised the Gusu Lan Members. Placing his sword on the ground in front of him he bowed deeply. “This one is incredibly sorry for what has happened, on behalf of our Young Master we are here to aid the Gusu Lan Sect in any way we can.”
“Who is your Young Master and how do you plan on helping us?” an elder woman said, eyes boring into him as if she was trying to peer into the depths of his soul.
“We are some of the healers and ward specialists, we bring supplies and nothing but honest intentions.” He said evenly, careful about what information was shared, walking the line of caution without being deceitful.
“Who is your Young Master?" another cultivator demanded, gesturing with their sword they emphasized their next few words. "You do not wear the robes of any Sect.”
“Ah- this one is not-”
That’s when Lan Qiren appeared.
He immediately recognized Wen Qionglin and the boy held his breath hoping the Lans would accept their offer of help.
“Thank you, for coming to aid us.” The man eventually said he looked exhausted, far older than he had seemed at the lectures.
“We would like to do our best to help right the wrongs of our sect,” he said diplomatically, finally revealing who they were.
This earned them a tired nod and an indication to follow behind them.
As he and the disciples walked through the wreckage he felt his heartache, this was his uncle’s plan and his cousin’s doing. This is what could become of his family should Wen Wuxian be unable to- he cut himself off at that. His cousin always kept his promises, this time would be no different.
It couldn't be.
“Shirong, Mingli, Yongzheng, Jia,” as he spoke the disciples stepped forward, “go aid the healers.'' He got a swift nod and the four of them left. “The rest of you bring the rations to the cooks and then help in whatever way you can.” That got him bows from the other seven and he turned to the Lans. “What do you need help with first?”
------—--------------
Finding Lan Xichen had been a bit more difficult than he’d initially expected. Not that he’d ever voice such a sentiment to anyone. It didn’t surprise him that the new Sect Leader Lan was hard to track down, after all the man was attempting to hide from the Wens, and probably everyone for that matter.
It had taken him a few days to find the man, he actually hadn’t bothered flying all the way to the Cloud Recesses since he'd figured there would’ve been word of the man’s safe return to boost morale.
Instead, dressed in robes of black with no sun in sight he did what he did best.
Tapped into the streets.
Having spent a good part of his youth before Wen Wuxian found him staying out of sight to avoid being underfoot while simultaneously gathering every bit of information he could in the hopes of selling it in exchange for food he was excellent in tapping into sources many didn’t even know were there, orphans. Street rats, the unwanted and forgotten children that could, despite his master’s best efforts, still be found in almost every single town one entered. His master would never be able to save them all but he knew that wouldn’t stop his da-shixiong from trying.
It had been thanks to a young boy in some small town he couldn't bother to remember the name of that he heard of a strange man sighted in the woods heading west. He’d bought the boy a meal and reluctantly parted with a few of his sweets before he set off under the cover of night, finding Lan Xichen just before dawn broke once more.
—-------------------
The heat and uneven terrain of Dusk-Creek Mountain made walking on his leg even more torturous than it had already been. Every step sent a throbbing pain through his leg despite the makeshift splint Jiang Tao had made for him and the few pain relievers he could spare. It had become pretty apparent that not many sects had grasped the full extent of what the Wens were capable of and willing to do to guest disciples. Many passed out from exhaustion, heat, and dehydration, because of this they’d been allowed to briefly stop at a river and rest for a little bit.
“How’s the Leg?” Nie Huaisang asked lowly, the healer from his sect, Nie Xiaobo, standing behind him and watching Lan Wangji’s every move critically, looking for any indication of pain or deceit he assumed.
“Fine,” he said curtly, It hurt but he knew there was nothing anyone could do at this point so there was no sense needlessly complaining about it.
“You’ve been limping, want to try again?” Nie Xiaobo said with a skeptical tone and raised an eyebrow.
He almost smiled when Nie Huaisang elbowed the girl which earned the Nie Heir a brief cold glare.
“It is manageable,” he said instead, hoping they’d understand what he was trying to say.
Nie Xiaobao sighed and ran a hand down her face, “Alright fine, let me or Jiang Tao know if you need anything for it.”
“Mm,” he inclined his head glad they’d accepted his answer.
“Hey! Don’t talk amongst yourselves!” A Wen Sect servant came and scolded them as they resumed walking.
The trio exchanged glances with each other and all decided it was better to remain unnoticed to the best of their abilities.
That’s when Jiang Wanyin joined them with his disciples, it had been decided it would be best to stick as a group so that it was more difficult to single them out from one another.
“This is so stupid,” the Jiang Heir grumbled quietly as they were sent off to search the surrounding areas.
“I know,” one of the Nies said, “they could at least tell us what they’re looking for.”
“Young Master Wen told you to search for the entrance, so what are you doing, whispering to each other?” the shrill voice belonged to the dainty-looking woman who had been standing to the left of Wen Chao since this indoctrination had begun. Wang Lingjiao was one of the many servants who served the Wen Heir but also, more notably, she was his mistress. Wen Chao’s infidelity to his wife was just another one of his unsavory characteristics and the fact he did it so publicly didn’t make it any easier to stomach. She had started as the servant to his main and as of the present, only wife, but since she had the looks she took her Mistress’s place in the Second Young Master Wen’s bed (something Lan Wangji was certain Wen Chao’s wife did not envy her for). Because of her favor with the Wen Heir a “Yingchaun Wang Sect” had emerged over the recent year despite so many others vanishing.
Since the woman’s spiritual power was weak she carried the same branding iron that all the Wen Sect servants carried as her cultivation was unable to support a more powerful tool such as an instrument or sword. The irons had special talisman work so they were always heated and could easily sear a sun motif into anything it touched. As she brandished the iron at them they went back to work, Lan Wangji couldn’t tell if those around him wanted to laugh or frown. They were viewed as so low that even a woman who had crawled her way up the cultivation world from a maid by climbing into people’s beds was speaking to them in such a way. He knew of a few women in the Cloud Recesses who had used to work in brothels, who'd married in or aided in the day-to-day tasks of the sect, good and honest women who'd been dealt a hard hand. Wang Lingjiao wasn't one of those, she was a snake at best, a monster who reveled in the suffering of others.
“Found it!” someone shouted, sparring them the potential punishment they could’ve faced had the sudden discovery not changed the direction of the women’s attention.
Everyone quickly made their way over to the disciple who had found the entrance to the cave. Everyone stood around the entrance, staring at the gaping void that led into the side of the mountain and then dipped into darkness.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Go in!” Wen Chao barked and reluctantly, one by one, they began their descent into the cave below them.
—-------------------
“It’s done,” he sighed, collapsing into a seated position across from Wen Qing and activating a silencing talisman.
She set down the medical text she’d been reading and looked up at her cousin who had been gone from Nightless City almost every day for the past two weeks. “Everyone?”
“Everyone,” he nodded, “from the second and third cousins all the way down to the pets, yes even the dogs. They left in small increments and told their neighbors they’d been offered a new business opportunity that would increase their status but they needed to move immediately. No one questioned it and Father won’t care, he knows I’ve been building my networks and if he asks I’ll just say I needed them.”
“Thank you, Wuxian, I will never be able to repay you.”
“Then don’t,” he shrugged. “Your family and more than that you're my friend, My father made this mess and I will do my best to make it right.”
“Will they be found?”
“No,” he shook his head, "I can’t tell you where they are or where they’re headed but they will be okay… and when the war is over and my father is dethroned they will be welcomed back with open arms.”
She nodded slowly and held up her tea, “Here’s to new beginnings, Sect Leader Wen.”
“Here’s to a brighter future,” he said with a small and uncharacteristically shy smile as he mirrored the action.
—--------------------
“Well, what now?” Jin Zixuan asked no one in particular as he stared up the cliff face, they were now all trapped in the cave together.
The Wens had ordered them to scour every inch of the cave, as they progressed deeper they came across a pool of stagnant, foul-smelling water at the end of the cave, that’s when Wen Chao had ordered them to string up a disciple, and use their blood to draw the beast out. His Jiaojiao picked out the Jin’s head disciple, Mianmian as her friends called her. That had been the final straw for the Jins who began to fight back and were quickly joined by everyone else, even the most exhausted were spurred on by the adrenaline and the thought of dying in the cave.
The commotion had woken the beast, a Xuanwu he realized belatedly as the shell and snake-like neck and head emerged from the filthy waters.
The beast let out a roar and began to snap at the gathered cultivators and servants, successfully catching a few Wen servants in its jaws which it quickly ate before going back for more, the arm of one unfortunate soul still caught between its teeth flopping weakly as it snapped at people.
The Wens had retreated, cutting the ropes and effectively trapping them in the cave with the Xuanwu, as look would have it all of the thrashings had led to a partial cave-in, killing the Xuanwu but also blocking the exit route he’d seen in the water.
“Hope we get found?” a disciple dressed in a soft orange color suggested.
“And who is going to look for us exactly?” Jiang Wanyin bit back, sounding more tired than angry “The Wen Sect isn’t going to admit what happened, in fact, Wen Chao is probably bragging he killed the Xuanwu right now, and let’s say they do admit all of us got trapped or something, which won’t happen, how is anyone going to find us?”
Everyone sobered at that, the relief of simply being alive wearing off quickly as the reality of the situation was laid out before them.
—------------------
The Lan Sect Leader had collapsed on the forest floor, his back slumped against a tree and he debated as to what to do.
He could either go up to him and help him which Wen Wuxian had said might go horribly wrong or he could stand guard and hope someone, who wasn’t a Wen, would find him and help him. That didn't seem likely though, and Wne Qing had always taught him the sooner someone received treatment the greater their chances of survival.
Just as he was about to emerge from the trees and leave his hiding place to approach the unconscious man he heard footsteps and quickly returned to the shadows.
The man had a soft face and sharp eyes, when he saw the cultivator slumped against the tree he quickly rushed over and checked for a pulse and temperature.
Good, Xue Yang wouldn’t need to kill this one… yet.
He silently followed them from a safe distance as the mystery man slowly brought the Lan Sect Leader to a small house on the outskirts of the town, well more of a village if he was honest with himself. Still, he didn’t risk entering so he watched through the windows as the smaller man raced around grabbing bandages and the few medicines he seemed to have.
He silently slipped away once he was sure the man was of no threat and went to the local apothecary, quickly buying herbs for fever reduction, inflammation, infections, and bandages based on what Wen Qing had taught him, before carefully making his way back.
Silently he dropped the package at the door and knocked before disappearing into the tree line once more, grateful that the sun had set and the shadows stretched longer and darker, concealing his black robes even more.
The door opened cautiously and the man looked down at the package at his feet with suspicion, cautiously kicking it before quickly opening it and taking a hurried step away, when nothing happened and only a bandage rolled out his shoulders slumped in relief and he picked it up. Clearly he'd expected some sort of trick, he was pleased by the man's cynicism.
“Thank you,” the man said into the night, eyes sweeping the forest around him, then after a brief pause. “You are welcome to come and help.”
“If you’re sure,” Xue Yang said, stepping into the pale light that was cast into the night from the opening in the door and windows, “but you cannot tell him I am here.”
“Alright fine,” the man sighed, stepping aside and letting Xue Yang in. “This one is Meng Yao are you friends with the Young Master?”
He snorted, “No, I’m a friend of a friend, I’m here as a favor to my Young Master…. I’m Xue Chengmei by the way.”
“Alright Young Master Xue, if you could help me disinfect his wounds that would be greatly appreciated.”
And just like that he’d met his fifth friend in his entire life, little did he know Meng Yao had just met his first.
—---------------
The arrival of the Wen cultivators in plain robes had been unexpected, it had in fact taken him a second to recognize them as such, had he not seen Wen Qionglin he likely would’ve assumed they were from some small clan that hadn't entered the political stage of the cultivation world just yet.
The boy no longer looked shy or scared but he did seem to be aware of the situation he was in and looked as if he did not want to spook a wild animal as he spoke to the Lan Cultivators who were pointing an assortment of weapons at him. With bitter amusement, he found the comparison to be quite fitting.
It was only after they demanded to know his young master’s identity a second time that he spoke with the stutter he’d grown used to hearing from the young Wen.
As the boy saw Lan Qiren he once again offered their aid and apologies, revealing from which sect they hailed to all at great risk to their safety. Lan Qiren had honestly wondered if he’d died when the boy apologized for the behavior of his sect and cousin, he said he’d been sent by his Young Master and he assumed that had to be Wen Wuxian, not that they could risk naming specifically who which he completely understood.
The boy had been brilliant and rambunctious with no regard for the rules which had angered him but the news of the boy’s status within the cultivation world and his tied rank with Wangji on the list of Young Masters showed a bit more about him. It was a relief to know that in the Wen’s main family at least someone still had a heart.
After a moment's hesitation, he decided to welcome them in, who was he to refuse valuable supplies and aid, they’d even brought healers with them, something that they were still in desperate need of. Not only that but he was under no illusion about the risk that the Wens had taken upon themselves to come to the Lan’s aid.
When he saw Wen Wuxian again, he'd be sure to thank him.
Notes:
I'll pry rewrite the first segment before i post the next chapter but I'm not sure yet
Chapter 14: In the Middle of the Night
Notes:
this was originally supposed to be longer but I split the chapter as the second half is giving me writers block
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wen Xu returned looking sullen but determined, he knew his eldest brother had to build the reputation of the Wen Sect Leader but he could still remember the quiet, almost shy boy his brother used to be. The one who, even after hours of sword training under the baking summer sun, would still sneak into his room with a book and teach him to read and write. He’d been the one who first introduced him to the endless knowledge that could be at his fingertips, and had been one of the first to encourage his endless curiosity.
His father had given his brother an approving nod and told him he would be something great, expressing how proud his oldest son had made him. It made Wen Wuxian’s skin crawl, he didn’t doubt that the day when he was called upon to complete such a task was drawing nearer, and he wouldn’t be able to refuse unless all his disciples and people under his protection had escaped the borders of Qishan.
When his other brother returned, boasting of his supposed valiant slaying of the Xuanwu of Slaughter but without the guest disciples in tow he was immediately concerned.
His brother, whose cultivation had been forever stunted by a Lion Dog, a beast almost as dangerous as a Xuanwu but not nearly as dangerous as one that supposedly fed on resentment, had been able to kill such a beast? He didn’t think so, at least not without help. That left him with very few other explanations, and his suspicions were confirmed as well as relieved when one of the servants who had accompanied Wen Chao requested a meeting with him.
—----------------
“Third Young Master Wen, when the Second Young Master Wen was hunting the Xuanwu in the cave the Xuanwu awoke and the cave began to collapse so the Second Young Master Wen ordered us to flee. We did as instructed, not that we needed orders, we were truly terrified! But upon climbing up the ropes that we had used to descend into the cave the Second Young Master Wen ordered we cut the ropes. Those who hesitated were threatened by his Mistress so we quickly did so and then we followed the Second Young Master back to Nightless City with the orders not to say a word of what we saw.”
“Thank you for informing me of this, were the guest disciples still alive when you left?”
“Yes, I could hear them shouting for help as we walked away.” The man bowed, shaking with what he could only guess was fear. “I know Third Young Master Wen ordered me to watch out for his friends, I have failed, please punish this one.”
At that, he sighed, “I do not begrudge you of your choice Wen Heng, the fact that you informed me of this despite your orders of silence is more than enough to grant you forgiveness.”
The servant collapsed to his knees in relief “Thank you! Thank y-”
“Don’t thank me yet, where was the cave?”
“I can draw you a map to the general area, many cultivators expressed feeling high levels of resentment so Young Master should be able to find it easily.”
“Alright, draw the map” The servant moved to grab ink and paper and quickly began to trace lines and soon a map took shape.
“Here you go Young Master,” he said, handing it over a short time later.
“Thank you,” he paused and Wen Heng turned towards the door. “How is Wen Huiling? She’s expecting your second is she not?” he asked just as the man was about to leave.
“My Wife? She is yes- Please, no, spare her! I-”
“You misjudge me, I do not intend to punish you or your wife, you have done me a great service.” Wen Wuxian waved his hand, fighting the urge to cry or laugh at the idea, he was uncertain of which he wanted to do. “I am asking as my brother will likely punish those he believed to have informed me of such an occurrence, I am offering for you, your wife, little Xiaoli, and your family a way out.”
“Tha-”
“Do not thank me yet, when you return home gather your family and everything of value and meet three of my disciples dressed in black at the Western Gate to the city, they and their families, will travel with you to the border where you will part ways and disappear. Tell no one of this, it is as much as I can do for you in repayment for your loyalty.”
—-----------------------
“So since it looks like we’re all going to be here for a while longer anyone got any embarrassing stories?” someone from a clan he couldn’t remember the name of asked.
“Give it a few more weeks then I’ll consider,” Jiang Chuntao grumbled, sitting with her back against one of the cave’s walls.
“We could talk about the time Jin Zixun thought my sister’s pet rabbit was a Yao and started crying so hard he turned purple?” a Jin boy he’d never seen offered up evoking a startled laugh from a few of the cultivators.
Jin Zixuan sighed, “Yeah that was truly something…”
“Oooh, what happened?” Nie Huaisang asked, leaning forward slightly.
“So!” the boy smiled devilishly, the disdain for Jin Zixun was felt within his sect too Lan Wangji couldn’t help but notice as the boy launched into an extravagant retelling.
—----------------------
The map Wen Heng had made was incredibly detailed considering how short of a time it took him and how well he remembered everything. He made a mental note to offer the man a job as a cartographer once this was all over and he could return to Qishan without fearing for his and his family’s safety.
He had decided to fly low, it was slower the flying above the trees but it offered a slimmer chance of error and cut his search time in half compared to walking, he couldn’t afford to make them wait any longer. There was a chance somewhere injured, the Xuanwu might still be alive, the cave could continue to collapse, and worse yet he wasn’t sure how long they’d been in there exactly as Wen Chao was known to try and keep his follies a secret, especially from their father. So there was a chance the disciples and heirs might’ve been in the cave longer than the roughly three days he estimated they'd been trapped.
As he passed the stream exactly where Wen Heng had said he slowed down, the man hadn’t been exactly sure where the opening of the cave was after the stream but gave a general sense of the area. So Wen Wuxian carefully dismounted, keeping his sword drawn, and began to open himself up to the resentful energy that was supposed to be radiating from the Xuanwu.
Instantly he felt as if he was punched, the voices of thousands roared in his ears, victims of the Xuanwu he couldn’t help but grimace. Yet one voice could be heard over all the rest, a deep melancholic one that called him as one would a sibling and begged him to make it whole.
Yin Iron.
Gritting his teeth he turned his head slowly, back and forth over and over, eventually, he pinpointed where exactly the energy was coming from doing his best to ignore the words being said and merely focus on the sound.
He followed the sounds until suddenly laughter rang out, not the maniacal kind that a broken soul used as it spoke of its disastrous end, but a bright and cheerful sound, one of joy, one of the living.
He stopped drawing on the Yin and shook his head hoping his eyes would be grey before walking towards the sound, the opening to the cave revealing itself in the process.
He walked up to the edge and called down into the darkness, ignoring the voices of the dead that roiled in the depths. “Hey! Is everyone okay down there?”
—----------------------
“Wen-gongzi?” He said in disbelief, glancing up at the figure that now stood in the mouth of the cave.
“Wen Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng barked with a laugh.
The murmurs and exclamations of relief almost stopped from hearing a soft “Wen Ying?” from Lan Wangji.
“Sorry I took so long!” the boy laughed brightly as he secured a rope he’d produced from his quainkun pouch and tossed it down before leaping into the cave, landing gracefully at the bottom, sword in hand. The disciples didn’t waste a second and quickly began to begin their climb to freedom. “My brother isn’t good at many things, but threatening servants into silence is apparently one of the few areas he excels in,” he explained, his jab at Wen Chao setting many people who weren’t well-acquainted with him at ease.
“Let’s go,” one of his disciples nudged him towards the rope and line forming to climb it,
“I heard you were injured,” he heard Wen Wuxian say, he assumed to Lan Wangji.
“Mm.”
“Alright, so I’m guessing you can’t climb. No, Lan Zhan that wasn’t a challenge don’t give me that face!”
“Alright, everyone!” Wen Wuxian’s voice was louder than it had been so he turned to look at the boy. “If you are unable to climb stand over there,” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “and I’ll fly you out.”
A few disciples stepped over to the area, with injuries ranging from sprained wrists to palm lashings to being too weak due to malnutrition and their lack of experience with inedia due to their young age.
—-----------------------
“That’s the way to the Nies’ border and that way to the Lans’” Wen Wuxian’s voice could be heard as he gave the disciples instructions as to how to leave. “I request none of you speak of my aid to you as far as everyone is concerned you managed to climb your way out… agreed?”
A chorus of agreements met him and his friend nodded approvingly.
“Huaisang!” Wen Wuxian called to him right as he and his disciples were about to continue their journey to the Unclean Realm.
“Yes, Wen-Gongzi?”
“None of the Gongzi please, just call me Wuxian.” the boy smiled.
“Alright, Wuxain, what is it?”
“Can you give this letter to Sect Leader Nie when you get back to the Unclean Realm? I’d like the two of you to read it together, it’ll burn once you read it so you need to do so together.” His friend handed him a letter sealed with a stark crimson flower, “Have a safe trip home.”
“Thank you,” he said, he wasn’t sure what was in the letter but he had a feeling it was more information.
With the letter secured in Nie Mingxia’s robes, they set off for home.
“Are you sure we can trust him?” Nie Yanlin asked once they were certainly out of earshot.
“He warned us of this,” Nie Xiaobao pointed out.
“I trust him,” he said slowly, “he is a good friend and has a sense of righteousness I admittedly would’ve never expected from a Wen… let alone a son of Wen Ruohan.”
“Thank the heavens for Wens like him,” Nie Mingxia agreed.
At that they fell into a comfortable silence, they’d have plenty of time to talk on their walk to the border.
—-----------------------
“Jiang Cheng! Here,” the boy bounded up to him with a letter addressed to his father outstretched in his hand. “It’s as much as I can do for now, but I hope it helps.”
Taking the letter he slipped it into the front fold of his robes with a nod, “Thank you.”
“Of course, safe travels,” before he could say another word the boy had vanished into the throng of groups as sects prepared to head home.
“That was odd,” Jiang Tao said slowly.
“The idiot has always been odd,” he admitted. “But he’s selfless and has a good heart.”
“Won’t he be executed for this?” Jiang Liqin asked under her breath as they made their way to the border.
“Only if he gets caught.”
—-----------------------
He watched as the disciples slowly vanished into the trees, making the first leg of their journeys home. Hopefully, if they made it to the border of their sect they’d be able to find disciples to help them so they wouldn’t need to walk even further, hell if they made it to the Qinghe border the Nies might help. The Lans likely wouldn’t be in the state too.
“Are you going to be making the trip back?” he asked the only person left in the clearing with him.
“Mm,” came the response, typical Lan Zhan he couldn’t help but think fondly.
“I-I’m sorry about my brother’s… I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I sent Wen Ning and as many disciples as I could without raising suspicions to help your sect.” He’d heard of Lan Zhan’s state and the condition of his sect in more detail as the weeks had gone by. Lan Xichen was still missing, but he hoped Xue Yang had managed to track him down since he’d heard nothing from the boy saying otherwise.
“It is not Wen Ying’s fault…. He is not his brother or his sect.” the response came slowly as if his friend was truly thinking about how he felt and what he meant.
“Thank you, Lan Zhan.” he smiled, relief flooding through him. He wouldn’t have blamed him if the Lan had hated him. He also knew that Lan Zhan wasn’t the kind of person to lie, even to spare his feelings, so his forgiveness, the admission he did not hold the actions of the Wen Sect under the orders of Wen Ruohan was a huge weight off of his shoulders.
The two stood in silence for a couple of seconds, as if wondering what to do and say.
“Oh! Here, I brought these.” he pulled out the herbs from Wen Qing and the letter for the Lan sect leader and presented them to Lan Zhan. “The herbs are for your leg I asked Wen Qing to prepare them since she knows way more about medicine than I ever will and the letter is for you to read with your uncle and brother when you get back to the Cloud Recesses.”
“Brother is missing,” the response was quick but not malicious and accusatory, rather it was a statement of fact mixed with sorrow.
He sighed at that, “I know Lan Zhan, but have a little faith hmm?” he was sure to keep his voice soft, family was understandably a touchy subject.
The Lan nodded sullenly, well as sullen as Wen Ying had ever seen him, the icy exterior having slipped slightly to reveal the storm of emotions within.
“One more thing,” he pulled his ribbon from his hair and held it out to the Lan. “If you ever need help just show this to a Wen dressed in black and help will be there.”
Lan Zhan glanced between the ribbon and him then back at the ribbon again, as if asking if he was sure he wanted to part with it. He made a slight take it motion with his hand and his friend finally relented. Cautiously he lifted the ribbon, running his thumb across the intricately embroidered fabric as he did so before tying it to his wrist.
He turned at that, hoping his face wasn’t flushing at the gesture the Lan undoubtedly didn’t know the significance of, he should head back to Nightless City. He needed to get a lot of things done before news reached his father, hopefully, no one would speak of his role in the disciples’ escape and continued survival.
Then a slightly less calm than usual voice called after him “Wen Ying?”
“Yeah, Lan Zhan?” he turned, never being able to resist the pull of the boy.
“Thank you,” he could feel the sincerity of the words and it made him a little uncomfortable, he was about to make things so much worse, no one should be thanking him, especially not someone as righteous and good as Lan Zhan.
“Aiya, there's no need for thanks between us Lan Zhan! But… if you feel it is truly necessary please keep the ribbon safe, it’s my favorite after all!”
“Mm,” Lan Zhan bowed and he instinctively mirrored the gesture before they parted.
As he came across the stream once more he took a deep breath and pulled out his spare red ribbon, he had exactly two ribbons from his mother, Lan Zhan now had one of them. Tying the remaining ribbon into his hair and checking his reflection in the stream he mounted his sword and began the flight back to the Fire Palace.
—------------------------
“Are you going to be making the trip back?” Wen Ying asked him, he turned and found the other boy’s eyes still on the trees that the rest of the disciples had left between.
“Mm,” he didn’t really know what else he would do, he needed to get home and help his uncle, prove to his sect he was still alive. He needed to help them in any way he could.
“I-I’m sorry about my brother’s…” It was so unlike Wen Ying to sound so unsure, to seem so scared and small. The bright cheer that could normally be seen in the expressive grey eyes he’d come to love was gone and an expression of resigned exhaustion and sorrow was in its place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I sent Wen Ning and as many disciples as I could without raising suspicions to help your sect.” Wen Ying sounded so desperate like he needed Lan Zhan to understand that he didn’t have anything to do with the destruction of the Cloud Recesses, not that he believed his friend had. The fact he’d sent disciples and his best friend to aid his sect made Lan Zhan’s chest ache, someone so good should not feel like this.
“It is not Wen Ying’s fault,” he said resolutely but upon seeing the unease not leaving his friend's posture he decided to elaborate a bit more and make the point that they would not need to have this conversation in the future. “He is not his brother or his sect.”
“Thank you, Lan Zhan.” The relief in Wen Ying’s voice was tangible.
They stood in companionable silence for a minute before Wen Ying broke it in his usual energetic fashion that Lan Zhan had missed so much, “Oh! Here, I brought these.”
He dug around in his quinkun pouch before pulling out a sachet and a letter addressed to the ‘Sect Leader Lan’ he carefully took both, tucking the letter into his robes and holding the sachet as Wen Ying rambled. “The herbs are for your leg I asked Wen Qing to prepare them since she knows way more about medicine than I ever will and the letter is for you to read with your uncle and brother when you get back to the Cloud Recesses.”
“Brother is missing,” he winced internally once he said it, he was sure he sounded bitter even though none of this was Wen Ying’s fault and the boy had gone out of his way to help him more than once.
“I know Lan Zhan, but have a little faith hmm?” Wen Ying replied softly, not missing a beat.
He was just about to say goodbye when Wen Ying spoke once more.
“One more thing,” the Wen reached up and pulled the crimson ribbon that was ever present in his dreams and held it out to him. “If you ever need help just show this to a Wen dressed in black and help will be there.”
He looked at the ribbon, it was beautiful really a work of art, even without holding it he could see the care that went into making it. He glanced at his friend for confirmation and the boy made a half aborted move which prompted him to gently take it. He couldn’t resist the urge and he gently ran his thumb across the complex embroideries, feeling the softness and strength of the fabric.
When he finally shook himself from his focus his friend was already almost to the edge of the clearing, “Wen Ying?” he called.
The boy paused and turned, tilting his head in a way that made his heart skip a beat “Yeah Lan Zhan?”
“Thank you,” there was no way to say everything he needed to, he wasn’t sure if there were words in existence that could convey the appreciation he had for his first and only true friend. He hoped those two simple words would at least begin to convey all he meant and felt.
“Aiya, there's no need for thanks between us Lan Zhan! But… if you feel it is truly necessary please keep the ribbon safe, it’s my favorite after all!”
“Mm,” he’d lay down his life to return this ribbon once all this was over.
He watched his friend walk towards Nightless City until he vanished from sight before turning and beginning his own, much longer and much slower journey home.
The entirety of the Fire Palace was on edge.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST THEM?” the roar echoed through the halls near the throne room and he felt the resentful energy surge.
After the screaming match continued for another hour he heard the whispers, Wen Chao wanted Lotus Pier.
Notes:
hope you enjoyed
Chapter 15: Ashes of Letters and Lotuses
Summary:
writer's block is a bitch
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The three of them watched as the letter burned itself, leaving nothing but ash on the unmarred table.
“Huaisang what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” he jabbed his finger down at the characters at the very tail end of the letter just as they disintegrated.
“It’s probably his way to escape his father.”
“But won’t Wen Ruohan slip even further without his favorite son?” Nie Zhonghui piped up from where he stood.
“Maybe, maybe not, I doubt he’s stable now as is. Besides, do you want him to try and use Wen Wuxian against us? He’s a literal genius!” he flapped his fan to emphasize his point.
Nie Mingjue sighed, running a hand down his face, “I see your point, and what do you want to do about the refugees?”
Nie Huaisang paused for a minute, absentmindedly tapping his fan to his chin, “Offer them a rank amongst our men? We’ll need all the help we can get.”
The sect leader Nie hummed his acknowledgment before turning to his right hand, “Zhonghui?”
“I see no problem with it, we’ll just keep them out of planning meetings until we’re sure they’re to be trusted.”
He glanced between the two before his eyes settled on his younger brother, “Fine… you have to find them though.”
“They’ll find us.”
—------------------
The tentative peace that had begun to settle on the Cloud Recesses was shattered by the arrival of three figures dressed in black robes.
“Wen Qionglin!” The boy called, skillfully blocking a chord assassination with his sword as he landed. His companions sheathed their swords and then raised their hands to show they meant no harm.
“Young Master Wen!” the youngest shouted, having spotted the young man they were looking for.
Their shouts as well as the sudden disturbance caught his attention and he raced over, recognizing who had been calling him as he drew nearer “Fengge, Lihua, Meirong?" he said, bewilderment and concern obvious in his voice. "What are you doing here?”
“Third Young Master sent us! We need to leave, now!” Wen Fengge shouted, gesturing towards the horizon as he did so, anxiety and urgency radiating off his normally calm exterior.
“I’ll need a bit of time to gather everyone-” Wen Ning began but was abruptly cut off by Wen Meirong.
“No time! Grab your stuff we’ll fill everyone in.”
“What’s happening?” Lan Qiren huffed, the sudden appearance of three more disciples in black robes without any warning drawing attention and concern
“Our Young Master has sent us, he has heard rumors of new activity amongst the troops, we are to get Wen Qionglin and go spread the word.” Wen Fengge explained, bowing politely but never relaxing, his body twitching as if he was desperate to begin to move, as if every second in the same place pained him.
“This is for you, it’s the names of the next batch of disciples who will come and help you,” Wen Lihua shoved the letter into his hands, turning away before the elder man could even begin to formulate a response as Wen Ning rushed back, still swinging his bow over his back and tying his quiankin pouch.
“I’m ready,” he said, drawing his sword and stepping up. “A-peng,” he pointed at his paternal cousin and the oldest disciple there, “you’re in charge.”
“I won’t let you down,” was the response with a bow and a grim expression, the girl was under no illusion as to what such a rushed departure meant.
The four of them pushed off, Wen Fengge leading the way.
“Master Lan?” Wen Lihua said from where she stalled behind her companions, “If I may, I suggest preparing aid for Lotus Pier.”
“I-”
She did not wait for his response and took off after her friends.
“So we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for ‘a Wen that Jiang Wanyin will know’ to show up and hope they can save us on the chance Wen Ruohan decides to attack us next?” Madam Yu snarled, pacing the room as Zidian crackled on her wrist.
“Now now my dear, I’m sure he means no disrespect, think of how many resources we’d need to allocate.” His father spoke in his usual passive and placating tone.
“He was a very polite and kind-hearted young man,” Jiang Yanli spoke, having been passively observing since her brother had read the letter aloud and it had disintegrated in his hands. “I believe he truly wants to do what is right.”
“What do you think he meant by ‘don’t believe everything you hear?’” Yinzhu piped up.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
—---------------
“Sect Leader! Madam Yu!” a senior disciple named Mingzhu came barreling into the shared office.
“How dare you? Have you no manners? You could at least kno-”
“There are four cultivators at the gates, they say they’re Wens!” he cut the Madam of Lotus Pier off, all disciples had been given orders to share such an occurrence the second they could, no matter what was happening.
“Get my husband and son!” she barked, pushing past him and making her way towards the front gates with Zidian crackling harshly at her side.
“I hope they don’t kill us,” Wen Meirong said passively, in a tone that one would be more accustomed to hearing in idle small talk than about one’s own demise.
“Don’t joke about that!” Wen Lihua replied, the shock in her voice making Wen Ning’s lip twitch.
“Meirong has always had a rather dark sense of humor, it’s why she and Xue Yang get along so well,” Wen Fengge said lightly, “pay her no mind.”
“Whatever they do it can’t be worse than Uncle,” Wen Ning muttered, mostly to himself, a rather morbid reassurance but a reassurance all the same.
The gates flung open and he barely held back a flinch but neither he nor his companions made a move for their swords. His second cousin had assured Wen Fengge that he’d given the Jiangs' a letter. Wen Ning knew only so much could be written at the risk of capture and the information returning to Wen Ruohan, signaling a high-ranking traitor but he hoped the information provided would be enough.
“Wen Qionglin?”
“Young Master Jiang,” he bowed and repeated what he knew. “Wen Chao is not far behind us, he brings Wen Zhuliu and a battalion whose size we do not know.”
—---------------------
All around them, disciples raced about, preparing for the inevitable.
“We must stand and fight! We cannot be cowards who run away from this!”
“With all due respect Madam,” Wen Meirong said calmly, having grown accustomed to such harsh tempers like all Wen disciples. “But no one would think it cowardly, rather it would be an honorable sacrifice to save as many as you could in the evacuation and offer your full support to the war.”
“War?” Jiang Wanyin said, “No one has officially declared war yet, have they?”
“No but after what happens here they will,” Wen Fengge replied, “It’s a matter of when not if at this point.”
“Young Master Wen, you know the most about Wen Chao, what do you think he will do?” Jiang Fengman said gently, in an attempt to appease his wife.
“He is arrogant and prideful, he will try to maximize the pain inflicted regardless of how it impacts the outcome. He enjoys pain for the sake of pain, he will likely try and humiliate the Jiangs as well as upstage his brother.”
“We won’t be able to protect all of Lotus Pier from a fire,” Jiang Yanli said in the same even tone as her father as she looked at her mother and little brother. “We should try and protect our people.”
—--------------------
“So Wen Wuxain wants us to trust him,” his uncle sighed.
“Mm.”
His Shifu had found the boy disrespectful but brilliant, an infuriating combination, during the lectures. He wanted to tell him not to let the past cloud the future but he knew he couldn’t speak when his very soul belonged to the very person who was asking for their implicit trust.
“We don’t really have a choice,” his uncle sounded exhausted, the weeks he’d been running the Cloud Recesses and under such situations while also grieving the death of his brother was taking its toll. “He sent his disciples to help us you know, his second cousin and 10 personal disciples and there are more on the way, due to arrive any day now.”
His head shot up from where he’d been staring at the pile of ash and soot that had once been a letter, “what?” Wen Ying had mentioned sending Wen Qionglin with some disciples, but personal disciples were even more skilled and valued, they weren't just charges they were personally trained by Wen Wuxian. It shouldn't surprise him he supposed. His friend had a good heart, it was one of the many things he loved about the boy. The fact he was sending more on top of that was truly a testament to his character.
“The boy seems to have inherited his compassion from his mother, he sent four healers complete with supplies, and the other disciples brought food rations and helped us to secure wards and begin rebuilding. They’ve been nothing but helpful, they’re only qualm is that they haven’t been able to do more.”
They spoke briefly, catching up on all else that had occurred and as he made his way to his make-shift quarters, a modest tent he shared with his uncle, he couldn’t help but repeat the last line of the letter over in his mind.
There is no need to mourn.
What had Wen Ying gotten himself into this time?
—--------------------
It was under the cover of darkness that the last of his disciples left.
Of the two hundred he alone commanded he’d gotten all of them out, many had been sent off on night hunts near the border only to be met with ‘tragic’ and ‘untimely’ deaths. Their families slowly left, many of his disciples were orphans or had families from outside Nightless City making their disappearances even less notable. He had fewer disciples than his brothers, his unique cultivation making it difficult to train them but between him, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and the elder disciples he felt he’d done well. His were among the best. He would've gotten more out, over six hundred cultivators reported to him, a fraction of the Wen Sect but they also reported to Wen Chao, and thus their absence wouldn't go unnoticed as the man liked to constantly have giant military parades in his honor.
They excelled in every field he could think of, they were trained harder and more extreme than anyone else in his sect, spurred by their motivation to do great things. He remembered every name and face, he’d had red jade carved for them in his symbol so they would always remember what they stood for.
The last twenty-seven of his disciples had been moved to the furthest reaches of the Nie border with instructions to seek out Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang as fast as they could.
As he watched their silhouettes vanish into the night he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
They would be free.
—----------------------
The Wens marched into Lotus Pier and Wen Chao’s Mistress demanded a tour while Wen Chao smirked in amusement at the way his mistress was shoving people around.
“Lotus Pier really is quite nice, but all the houses are a bit old,” Wang LingJiao began, peering around the Jiang household, eyes searching for all its faults as if a loose floorboard or a slightly dusty corner would justify the atrocities that she was about to commit.
Wen Fengge stood next to the Jiang Disciples, dressed in robes of purple, Wen Ning had been deemed to be recognizable so he was prepared to guard the escape route along with a handful of Jiang Disciples and the two remaining Wens.
Wen Zhuliu stood beside the Second Young Master while Wen Chao’s mistress continued to ramble and Wen Fengge starred ahead praying for whatever gods may be for patience.
“…Madam Yu you aren’t a good mistress at all, why don’t you decorate this place?” Wang Lingjiao continued on, finding more and more faults with the ancestral home and each insult against the house was yet another against its master and madam.
He noticed the way the Violet Spider's fists clenched and he swore he saw Zidian release a few vicious sparks. The forced "tour" of Lotus Pier was concluded in the main hall where his sect’s Second Young Master and his bitch seated themselves at the head of the table, earning glares from all the Jiang disciples present (and himself) as well as the Jiang children.
“Where’s the Tea?” the insufferable woman whined, clearly expecting a Jiang servant to serve her, placing her, a mere Wen Sect servant, above those of the Jiangs who were undoubtedly more well-treated and actually valuable assets. He remembered how she treated the disciples and servants back in Qishan too, the only ones she dared not disrespect were those she knew to be Wen Wuxian’s as he would not have hesitated, even for a moment, to strike her down should she insult one of his charges. Yet Wen Fengge also knew Wen Wuxian didn’t hold jurisdiction over the other disciples and he remembered how Wang Lingjiao would strike girls who she envied or boys who didn’t lavish her with praise.
The madam of the house sat gracefully a seat lower and the two maids, over each of her shoulders, smirked slightly, from his brief interaction with them over the last day or so he realized the two of them were very similar to Meirong and Xue Yang with fierce tempers yet they showed admirable restraint, keeping their mouths shut until opportune moments such as this.
“There is no tea. If you want some get it yourself.” One of them smirked.
Wen Chao spluttered at that, his beady little eyes staring at the madam of the house as he loudly exclaimed, “Don’t your servants ever do anything?”
“The Jiang Sect servants have more important things to do, anyone strong enough to be welcomed as a guest is strong enough to lift a pot and pour their own cup of tea.” The other maid replied lightly, a clever way of forcing the prideful Wen to either pour his own damn tea or be seen as weak, and he despised being viewed in such a way. He had to admit it was rather clever, he would definitely be using that in the future to get prideful people to do things they considered below them.
"What about you two?" Wang Lingjiao stuck a pink nail at the two women standing behind either shoulder of the Madam.
One of them looked ready to respond when Wen Chao leaned back and waved his hand in a leisurely manner, a gesture that one would expect a to make to have a prisoner brought forward, "Shouldn't they have been struck by now?" He was still looking at the Jiang Madam, only turning his gaze away when Wang Lingjiao snuggled up to him.
He exchanged a look with Jiang Tao and barely managed to avoid laughing when the boy offered a barely quirked eyebrow, silently asking a question he didn’t know the answer to.
"Jinzhu and Yinzhu are my personal maids, no one has struck them, and no one will." The Madam said coolly, her sleeves sweeping out as she shifted her hands, Zidian catching the evening light as she did so. If there was a threat there Wen Chao's Jiaojiao was clever enough to notice and Wen Chao didn't really need to, yet.
The Jiang heir shifted slightly and he prayed the boy wouldn’t do anything rash, his temper was well known but right now wasn’t the time, his sister seemed to notice as well and placed a calming hand on his forearm.
He tuned out the conversation in favor of running over the plan and what direction he needed to go in order to get out of the Jiang Complex.
“Why did you take one of my Sect’s disciples?”
That caught his attention, Wen chao shouldn’t have been so stupid as to kidnap a disciple.
“Why?” The Wen Mistress mocked, “Bring out the evidence!” A guard he didn’t recognize stepped forward at the order, holding out a simple kite. Wang Lingjiao then proceeded to point out everything criminal about the kite that had been found as they entered the gates. A KITE! The disciples around him gave perfectly reasonable and practical explanations.
Why red? Because we ran out of blue paint so we couldn’t make purple or blue and greens or yellows blend in too well when you try and find them later.
Why a one-eyed monster? Because it was the simplest pattern and the disciples made their own kites since their Shidi was so young he hadn't learned how to make the more complicated patterns.
But of course, Wen Chao and his woman weren't done, they insisted there were hundreds of other patterns and plenty of other ways that they could’ve made it.
Then a point was made at how ridiculous that was because the Wen Sect ate other foods that were red and round so the connection between a red, remotely round object shouldn't be drawn.
“Why are you really here? Surely it isn’t for a kite.” Madam Yu said calmly as if the whole situation wasn't burning her already short fuse shorter.
“We’re here to bestow you with the great honor of becoming a Supervision office!” she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together in a twisted delight.
“Supervision office?” The violet spider turned with a dark look in her eyes.
“Yes, the supervision office” the woman, stood up from where she was lounging next to the Wen Heir and began to walk around, continuing to be unaware of the sudden change of atmosphere. “That’s the second reason we came here...”
As she continued with her oblivious explanation Wen Fengge internally grimaced there was a chance Madam Yu would attempt to fight the Wens rather than go join her husband who was arranging the evacuation of the disciples.
The Jiang Heir was obviously incensed too and the stupid woman just kept on talking.
“… your personality suits my taste, I’ve still decided to grant you this great honor-“
She wasn’t able to finish her sentence as the Violet Spider finally snapped, slapping her across the face, hard. Wang Lingjiao stumbled back from the force of the hit, shock evident on her face and a rapidly forming red handprint to attest to the force behind the blow.
“How dare you!” Wen Chao roared and the rest of the Wens in the room sprang into action while their young master and his mistress ran to hide behind Wen Zhuliu.
“Wen Zhuliu! Kill them all!” Wen Chao ordered from behind him just as the Violet Spider cut down the last of the disciples, igniting Zidian and his JiaoJiao launched the flare.
“GO!” he grabbed two Jiang Disciples and shoved them towards the door they were supposed to flee through, grabbing his sword he drew the blade and quickly placed himself in front of the Jiang heir and his sister, pushing the two of them towards the door.
—----------------------
From the edges of the treeline, he watched with Wen Ning as flames began to engulf the structure, the Wens turning once they realized there was no one to slaughter.
“Where’s my wife?”
"I'm right here," came the response, a disheveled Madam Yu flanked by her maids, all three sporting injuries as they had been the ones to defend the retreat.
—-------------------------
“Are you sure about this?” he asked one last time, he needed to be completely sure, otherwise he’d find another way. He’d do something else, it might cost him his freedom or his sanity but he would find another way.
“I’ll be fine Wuxain, and if I’m not I have the mirror and will let you know. The important question is are you absolutely sure you can make this convincing to your father?”
What would happen if he couldn’t was never voiced but he heard it all the same.
“Are you doubting me Qing-Jie?” he offered with a small playful smile and a slight tilt of the head in lieu of a response.
The medic sighed and shook her head, “Just be careful, okay?”
Holding out his hand he received a raised eyebrow from his companion, “I could make an oath?”
“Absolutely not,” was the curt response. “...so,” she took a deep breath, “will there be a body?’
“Not a full one, no.”
—-----------------
She had entered the throne room and bowed, straightening up only to be met with silence as Wen Ruohan seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
“Is his condition improving?” he finally spoke, shattering the silence with a voice she couldn’t associate with her uncle. It sounded unsure, vulnerable, and scared in a way that made him seem almost human though she was sure his humanity had died long ago, she'd seen the contents of his dungeon after all.
She bowed and willed her voice to remain as steady as it could, “He seems to be stable for now, I will continue to provide you with updates but due to the unusual nature of his cultivation I am unsure of what the cause is of such an anomaly in his-”
She was cut off by an ear-piercing howl, making her flinch despite knowing it not to be real. She raced from the throne room, not even bothering to bow, she needed to keep up appearances, and for the sound to be heard all the way from the throne room, she could only imagine how loud Wen Wuxian had made it.
As she raced through the corridors she was glad she wasn’t in the room when it began, especially on Wen Ruohna’s orders, it would make it impossible for him to logically blame her, if he chose to be logical, it would fall on him. He would be the one who had called his prized medic away from his ailing youngest son and thus caused his untimely death.
She skidded to a halt outside the door she had left almost a quarter of an hour ago, in the few minutes since the screaming had started resentful energy had engulfed the entirety of the door, whisps of it slipping out between the cracks as the doors shuddered under the force. The servants around her shrieked with each outburst and even the guards were standing as far from the door as they could, the blood drained from their faces making their complexions as pale as their robes.
She hadn’t heard the Sect Leader behind her but she watched as he quickly moved towards the doors, the telltale look of twisted concentration on his face as he tried to manipulate the energy, tried to harness it and force it to obey his will.
Yet he was met by an angry lash as if the energy was enraged by her uncle's attempts to tame it and the doors groaned under the weight of the energy within.
She hastily took a few large steps back, she trusted Wen Wuxian but she also knew he needed to completely sell this for his father to go for it hook line, and sinker.
She was glad she had as Wen Ruohan forced the doors open and the energy came tearing out, screaming with the anguish of dozens of souls, all bellowing out their pain before they all dissipated as they got too far from their source. Of course, Wen Wuxian would try and protect people even while faking his death it seemed.
Wen Ruohan raced into the room and she was shocked as he dropped to his knees and picked something up. She realized passively that a mangled arm was hanging limply from it. So he’d picked up the decoy.
If she hadn't known this whole thing was staged she likely would've had a similar reaction, but now she was hesitant to approach and see the damage that had been so carefully inflicted.
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself she walked forward. She had been prepared for no face or something that barely resembled a human but instead, she was met with a sight that almost made her hurl despite the fakeness of the situation and all her familiarity with gore from her medical training.
Nothing prepared her to see the likeness of her cousin with his face partially gone and a mangled body, just from the way one of his legs rested she could tell it had been completely snapped. His body was completely mutilated, it truly appeared as if the resentment had attempted to rip him limb from limb, had tried to peel his face off as one would skin a potato.
She felt her stomach churn and her mouth fill with saliva as she fought to keep the bile, and her breakfast, down.
Yet despite the horrific appearance of the corpse Wen Ruohan still held his son's copy to him, looking like a normal, albeit grieving, parent for the first time in a long time, clutching the mangled remains of his youngest child to his chest.
The wail of pain that left him had been almost animalistic, the sorrow and pain transforming him completely as he buried his face in the robes on the shoulder of what he believed to be his son's body
—-----------------
He’d just arrived in the Unclean realm when he heard the news.
“Did you hear? The Third Young Master Wen is dead!” someone said loudly.
"Poor child, his father must've done it."
"I heard it was resentment poisoning from Wen Ruohan's cultivation!"
There is no need to mourn.
Notes:
I was actually debating on whether or not I should have Wen Wuxian fake his death or just defect but clearly, you can see what I ended up deciding. I felt like any other way he left the Wen Sect wouldn't flow as smoothly with Wen Ruohan's attachment to his youngest son so I did my best to give him a little bit of human emotion one last time.
Chapter 16: JianGuiyi-Jun
Summary:
there's a lot going on
ok? ok
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He woke to the sunlight glaring brightly at him, far too bright for five, and for just a minute his sleep-addled brain wondered how he could’ve slept through the morning bell before he remembered.
He fought valiantly to hold back his tears and take a few calming breaths, he’d bawled his eyes the first two days after he’d woken up here, he couldn’t afford to do it again. Especially not with everything going on in the cultivation world, he actually needed to get back and help his uncle and brother.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Meng Yao said, having come into the room to check on him, holding a tray with food and a teapot. “Here’s your breakfast, well technically lunch since it’s a little past noon.”
“When did you go to the store?” he asked, taking the tray, he could’ve sworn they’d been out of food yesterday, and tea now that he'd thought about it. “Do you need me to pay you back?”
“No no it’s okay, a friend of mine heard I’d been under the weather so they brought some essentials,” came the easy reply but he added it to his growing list of favors to repay to this man.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I haven’t meant to be keeping you from anything,” he said. He’d spent his time playing Liebing, polishing his sword, writing letters to the minor sect leaders, and meditating, though he struggled with the latter the most as it required him to focus on how he felt. Which wasn't really something he wanted to be paying attention to right now, he'd much rather pretend everything was fine and shove his feelings to the deepest recesses of his mind thank you very much.
—-------------------
“No no it’s okay, a friend of mine heard I’d been under the weather so they brought some essentials,” Meng Yao was grateful the lie rolled off his tongue as easily as Lan Xichen accepted it. In truth, he’d offered to repay Xue Yang but the boy had informed him that if he attempted to pay him back he’d, in the boy's words 'find himself short a finger or two.' He’d come to understand over the days they spent waiting for Lan Xichen to wake up that this was the boy’s way of processing emotions of any form. That being said he’d been especially surprised at the boy’s unchanged demeanor after the news he’d heard at the apothecary, Wen Wuxain was dead. But based on how Xue Yang remained unwavering he had a suspicion about the actuality of such an announcement, despite the entirety of the Wen Sect wearing some form of mourning attire.
“Ah, I’m sorry, I haven’t meant to be keeping you from anything,” the Lan said after a beat of silence.
“It’s of no concern, I must admit I am not missed by many, even fewer probably noticed my absence.” He offered a wry smile, it was a sad fact of his life, hell even his father didn’t notice him… but after Xue Yang’s stories, he was almost glad for it. The man had no value for human life and according to Xue Yang the Third Young Master Wen had always believed that should Wen Ruohan not be around Jin Guanshaun would be considered the most evil man in the cultivation world. He also mentioned the man’s fear of snakes and the sudden spike in the snake population in Qishan during the discussion conference a while back.
It made him like the boy all the more, and as he filled Lan Xichen in on the news despite the man’s insistence that they shouldn’t gossip, which he’d countered with that they couldn’t pretend the cultivation world would simply stop in his absence and he needed to be aware of what he’d return to the man had relented and ate his meal in his usual listening silence.
—-------------
They began to trade stories, Meng Yao was sure to keep it light and cheery, there was no need to start a pissing competition of who had a worse life because he'd probably win and that would make Lan Xichen feel guilty because he was too good a person for this world.
He’d just finished telling a story about his younger brother, “it sounds like you miss him a lot.”
“I do, and I’ve always worried about what would happen if I couldn't be there for him.”
He nodded despite not understanding the feeling aside from an educated guess, “I’m sure he has good people in his life.”
“He does, especially the Third Young Master Wen.”
He couldn’t help the slight sharp breath he drew at that, something that Lan Xichen unfortunately noticed, damn the heightened senses of cultivators.
“What is it?” the Lan asked him, concern clear on his face.
“It’s nothing, sorry, you were saying?” he tried to play it off, silently praying the Lan would just let it go.
“Don’t lie to me, what is it?” the disparate edge in Lan Xichen's voice made him cave.
“I’m not sure if it’s true….” actually he was almost positive it was a lie based on Xue Yang’s reaction, either that or the boy was completely unhinged which he only partially doubted. But at the same time, he figured the rest of the cultivation world probably didn’t know that and he couldn’t exactly blow his cover by having inside information on supposedly one of the most powerful Young Masters of the cultivation world, even without the backing of a sect.
Yet brown eyes looked at him pleading, “Tell me.”
He made sure to keep his voice even when he broke the news, “The Third Young Master Wen is dead, Qishan Wen is in mourning.”
Based on the series of emotions and expressions that ran across Xichen’s face that wasn’t the news he’d been expecting, the relief probably meant he feared more harm to his sect but the horror and grief also conveyed he cared for the Youngest Wen as well.
“What?” the man said, sounding slightly shattered.
—--------------
“Well he certainly sold his death,” Nie Huaisang said casually.
“Huaisang!”
“What Da-ge? He literally made it seem like he’d been torn apart by resentment! Wen Ruohan cried according to Xiurong, the most heartless man in existence cried . Wen Qing even tried to see if she could save him! It’s been an act for the centuries! We should have a play made of this after the war! I need to take notes! It was a work of ART!”
“Did he need to be so dramatic?” Nie Zonghui said slowly, “I’m sure the mangled dead body didn’t help Wen Ruohan’s mental stability.”
“Would you believe me to be dead if you didn’t have a body?” He asked lightly, pointing his fan at his brother's right hand.
“No,” Nie Mingjue grumbled, “I’d start getting paranoid though.”
“Exact- Hey!”
“If you up and vanished one day I’d be immediately concerned about what you were plotting,” Nie Zonghui added on, Nie Mingxia eagerly nodding in agreement.
“You three are the worst!” he huffed.
“I believe we should get back to the campaign launch,” Nie Mingxia said, finally taking pity on her Young Master.
—-------------
“Remember, the Nie conference is in two weeks' time,” Meng Yao reminded him.
“I’ll remember,” he smiled fondly, “are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
“I’ve still got things to do, besides, it’s not like you’ll never see me again.”
“I- yes, I know, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you,” he replied. The friendship he’d experienced was a balm to his soul, and after all that had happened, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve survived while remaining in touch with reality if it wasn’t for Meng Yao.
That earned him a small smile, “until we meet again Xichen.” the smaller man spoke as he passed him a bag full of food and medical surprise, and, not that he knew it at the time, money as well.
—-------------
“So you didn’t go with him, does that mean you’d be interested in working with me?”
“You’ve got to stop doing that, just knock on my door,” Meng Yao said, turning to face his companion.
“What’s the fun in that? Besides leaving your house so unprotected practically is an invitation for me to enter as it is,” came the response as Xue Yang slunk out of the shadows with a smile far too sharp to be considered friendly by any sane person.
Fortunately for Xue Yang, Meng Yao wasn’t exactly sane.
“Why should I work with you?” he asked instead.
“Because it would give you power, respect, and a chance to rub how skilled you are in Jin Guangshit’s face,” the boy said brightly. “Plus a chance to prove yourself to the cultivation world and help Lan Xichen even more.”
“Speaking of Lan Xichen, aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him?”
“I don’t need to, he’s fully recovered and I’ll see him in two weeks.”
“You’re going to the discussion conference?”
“Of course,” the boy snorted, “I’ve got orders to help Wen Ning, and besides that’s where Lan Xichen will be.”
“I see.”
“I’m going to go, but here’s a talisman that will put you in contact with Wen Qing should you wish to help.” the Boy placed it on the table in front of him before bowing.
“Thank you,” he finally said after a few moments, knowing he was alone in the house but not unheard.
—------------
“….not possibly strong enough to defeat the Wens…”
“….invaded two of the major sects….”
“…what about us…”
“Sect Leaders,” Nie Mingjue began, immediately silencing the murmurs of the other cultivators. “I understand that you fear for your sects and families. We will all have much to lose in this war, resources, friends, and family.”
Murmurs of agreement broke out among the gathered sect leaders but after a few glares and Nie Mingjue clearing his throat they went quiet, listening intently for what he was about to say.
“Many of us have already lost someone or thing to the Wens under Wen Ruohan. The Lans and Jiangs have lost their homes.” The Nie sect leader gestured at the Jiang Sect Leader, who was accompanied by his children and wife, flanked by their disciples who each acknowledged his point with a nod of their heads. He’d also made eye contact with him and his uncle at the mention of the Cloud Recesses, something he inclined his head slightly.
“People are going missing, the Lan Sect Leader, disciples who travel to the borders of our sects and Qishan vanish on even the most basic of night hunts!”
“The reason I say this is; if we do nothing now how much more are we willing to lose? How many sects need to be razed to the ground? How many of your disciples need to be slaughtered? How much blood must be shed by your family? How many lives will be enough to make you realize this will happen whether you want it to or not? Whether we are prepared or not? War is on the horizon. How much are you willing to take? Are you going to sit by as the Wens devour one sect after another? Do you think just because you are staying out of their way they won’t come for you? If you truly believe that then you are a fool and your sect will suffer for your cowardice.”
Taking a breath he glared at each and every person in the room, “When you watch your family get murdered and your sect turned into a supervisory office I want you to remember this moment. ALL OF YOU!” He slammed his hand on the table in front of him, causing it to release a groan, before pointing an accusing finger.
“I want each and every one of you who runs away now to remember this day when that happens, to remember you could’ve saved every one of them. You could’ve saved your brothers and sisters, your sons and daughters but you didn’t. Instead, you ran like a coward and I want you to remember that your hands will be just as bloody as the Wens’ who slaughtered them and you will be just as guilty.” He took another deep breath at that “We only have one chance to save ourselves and our children, our grandchildren, our sects, and our legacies. We have that chance now, so what are you going to do about it?”
The Nie Sect Leader made good points and the way he delivered them undoubtedly hit home, Lan Wangji watched as the Sect Leaders exchanged a few looks, looking more unsure than fearful.
“But Sect Leader Nie, what can we do?” a small Qishan border sect leader cried, “we are so few against an army of so many!”
"And with demonic cultivation!" someone else called out.
“The Wen Sect is divided,” Wen Qionglin spoke for the first time since the meeting had assembled, despite the jeers and glares that he and the other members of the Wen Sect received they hadn’t made any moves to address the issues. “Many are not loyal to Wen Ruohan but fear his wrath, My sister is in line for the throne after Wen Ruoan’s sons and many would stand with her if given the chance.”
It looked like people were about to turn on them but before they got the chance a robed figure stepped into the room and walked up to stand right in front of Nie Mingjue, never saying a word as he swept past the gathered Sect Leaders. “I believe I can help with that too,” the figure spoke, behind the man, hundreds of smaller sect leaders and rogue cultivators stood.
He recognized the voice immediately, as did his uncle who made an almost inaudible gasp beside him.
The man flipped down his hood and smiled “Well said Mingjue, Wen Qionglin.”
The Nie Sect Leader got up and clapped the man on the shoulders in an affectionate greeting between old friends, “Good to see your back from the dead Xichen.”
The entire room, which had fallen silent at the man's entry roared to life once more.
“TO THE SUNSHOT CAMPAIGN!”
His brother was back.
—----------------------
“Wen Ning,” the boy slid beside him wearing a familiar bloodthirsty grin. “Look at you being a public speaker and not stuttering!”
Wen Meirong slapped Xue Yang upside the back of the head for him. “Nice to see you too,” she said with a small smirk.
“Asshole,” Xue Yang grumbled making him crack a smile, especially when the boy signaled to talk later.
Wen Ning ignored the comment in favor of speaking with the other Wens who had silently joined Lan Xichen on his way to the Unclean Realm, they were, as he would soon come to find out, the last to leave Nightless city.
-------—---------------
He’d begun making his way through Qishan on foot, passing himself off as an ordinary merchant rather than himself, he didn’t even want to know what would happen if his father began to hear rumors of the Third Young Master Wen back from the dead. He also knew better than to attempt to use his cultivation for anything as he would likely be either recognized or killed as rogue cultivators often were within the Qishan borders. Many managed to escape Qishan, thanks to a combination of luck and his own interference to the best of his ability yet he was under no illusion as to what would become of him should he be caught. After all, he’d been there as Wen Zhuliu tore their cores out and his father watched with a critical eye before ordering him to take part. An obeyed order that still haunted him to this day.
Walking and horseback had made it difficult but he’d managed to make it all the way to Yiling, albeit slowly, and still unable to use his cultivation as his sect members were crawling all over Jiang territory, harassing anyone and everyone. With the fall of Lotus Pier and the Jiangs still regrouping there was no one to oppose the Wen Sect as they plowed their way through the remainder of the Sect’s territory meeting minor resistance from civilians brave enough to take a stand.
He remembered the face of each ‘Wen’ that gleefully injured civilians as he passed.
Should they survive the war they would not survive his ascension to the throne.
He had only been a half-day walk away from Yiling and his goal, the Burial Mounds when a Wen Guard had taken an interest in him.
“You there!” Came the shout, instantly making him freeze and tense, debating if he should run, play the part, or kill the man. He decided to play the part, he didn’t need the Wen’s torturing more civilians in search of him or in search of the killer of one of their guards, something that would most likely grant Yiling a similar fate to Lotus Pier and the Cloud Recesses.
Best to play along.
“Yes?” he said as innocently as possible, modifying his voice to sound older and more raspy, keeping his posture as unthreatening and frail as possible. He couldn’t pass as an old man but he could pass as closer to thirty than twenty and hopefully, he could hide the muscular build that constant sword training provided him. He needed to be as drab and unremarkable as he possibly could, a face in the crowd of meaningless spectators as his sect went about their attempt to conquer the cultivation world.
“Y-” the soldier paused, glancing at his face, scanning his robes before his eyes returned to his face once more, practically bulging as he took in his features. He mentally cursed himself for not rubbing more mud on his face that morning as he became unordinary in the eyes of this guard. “You’re coming with me.” The voice brokered no room for argument but he had a gut feeling as to what his fate would be.
“What? Why?” he said, doing his best to sound genuinely confused, maybe, just maybe the man would let him go.
“I’m bringing you to Wen Chao,” came the harsh response, the man refusing to look at him as he came closer.
He didn’t even get the chance to try and reason his way out of it before he was grabbed by the collar and dragged towards Yiling.
—-----------------
He played calming as his brother asked questions and he answered them, their uncle was either in his own quarters or still speaking with the Wens and sect leaders. He was grateful, he couldn’t stand the pitying gazes and false sympathy that came with intersecting politics.
It was after a lull in the conversation his brother said something that made his hands still in the air over the still vibrating strings.
“I’m so sorry Didi,” he said softly, voice cracking slightly on the affectionate term.
“For what?” he said after a moment's pause, looking up at his brother, surprised to find eyes filled with sorrow staring into his own.
“About Wen Wuxain,” the voice his brother used made it sound as if he was approaching one of the rabbits after it had been scared by a hawk.
“Wen Ying is alive,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, why did his brother believe Wen Ying dead? Surely he must’ve gotten a letter somehow.
“Wangji…” he despised that tone, it was the same tone of voice that the elders used when he couldn’t see his mother anymore, albeit far more sincere, yet it didn’t change the feeling he was being spoken down to, as if he was being unnecessarily obstinate and desperately clinging to false hope.
He decided to elaborate, “Wen Ying gave Shifu and me a letter, he said there was no need to mourn.”
“But Wangji, all of Nightless City saw him, Wen Ruohan cried as he held his body according to some.”
His brother didn’t listen to gossip but he also figured it was inevitable when in hiding, and was likely his only way of learning the happenings of the cultivation world in his absence. The rumors must’ve been exaggerated, for Wen Ying to be alive the body couldn’t be his.
After a bit of thought he finally answered the only way he could, “I trust Wen Ying.”
“It’s that simple for you isn’t it?” his brother sighed, shaking his head slightly as he stood to begin preparation to retire for the evening.
“Mm,” was all the response he was able to muster.
He only wished everything about Wen Ying was that simple.
—-----------------
As he was dragged into the encampment he watched as disciples, servants, and guards alike did double takes or stared in shock at his face, clearly he had grown sloppy with his disguises, he’d grown too comfortable. That was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make again.
When he’d finally been shoved to his knees in front of Wen Chao he'd expected a lot of things.
He’d expected his brother to be gloating about his death, to be celebrating it, to… well to be doing just about anything aside from drinking himself into a stupor while occasionally sobbing or hiccuping.
There was rice wine scattered all over the room, many empty but some knocked over, their contents spilled all over the floor. The scent was so strong he could feel his nose burn and eyes sting slightly at the overwhelming presence in the air. The robes his brother wore looked like they’d been slept in for several days and his hair was coming undone.
Based on the servants who whispered all around the Second Young Master Wen had been like this since the news of the Third Young master Wen’s death had spread. They’d managed to bathe and clean him up when he passed out from exhaustion and liquor but otherwise, he refused to let anyone near him, he’d even ordered Wen Zhuliu to stay on the far side of the compound for the next week, which explained the core melting hand’s noticeable absence. The man hadn’t protested much either apparently, having become even more somber and gloomy since the word came.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Wen Zhuliu had been there, the man refused alcohol so he’d be unimpaired and would stand the best chance at recognizing him despite his fading disguise, having known him the longest (of the sober people) and the most personally.
The sight of his elder brother so upset over his death almost would’ve touched him had he and his guards not been mutilating civilians for the fun of it.
His arrival, and thus perceived infraction, was met with anger at first but upon Wen Chao seeing his face he began to drunkenly ramble, something Wen Wuxian tuned out so as not to laugh, he’d never been able to take drunk Wen Chao seriously, it made his older brother act like a five-year-old and he’d probably get executed for laughing. Yet he noticed his brother’s eyes never left his own, their unusual silver color likely being the only feature his inebriated could recognize as belonging to Wen Wuxian.
Yet the sorrowful tone quickly turned to an angry one and he found himself on the receiving end of a lecture of ‘how dare he impersonate the late third young master wen’ and was held down as his chest met the business end of a branding iron.
Something he accepted with gritted teeth because his only option was to deplete his already drained yin energy in an attempt to kill every Wen in the building and hope none of them got the chance to write to his father about his continued resistance should they survive. Something he definitely couldn’t do without having even more blood on his already crimson hands.
So with the symbol of the sect from which he hailed, ‘died,’ and lived for, branded into his chest he was dragged up onto a sword and flown to the outskirts of Yiling.
—---------------
In their room smothered with talismans, the Wens gathered, their small band having grown from 14 to almost 60 as the weeks had passed since the burning of the Cloud Recesses and they were certain more would join them as the word spread.
“Have you heard any news?”
“Not from Wen Wuxain,” Xue Yang shook his head, “but I put a new informant in touch with Wen Qing.”
“That’s always good,” someone muttered getting several murmurs of agreement.
“I also haven’t heard any rumors, though I did start a few amongst the towns I visited so hopefully Wens might try and defect…. Don’t give me that face Wen Ning, I made sure to keep it vague.”
The topic of conversation quickly shifted with the most pressing matter covered first.
“So who knows the death is fake?”
“I think all major sect leaders except the Jins,” Wen Ning said slowly.
“Makes sense, they’d probably go around and blab to too many people.”
“Jin GuangSTD would if he thought it would get him something, otherwise he wouldn’t care.”
“That’s true, but it’s probably best that not many people know.”
“Do we think he'll reveal his face before the… you know?”
“Who knows,” someone shrugged.
“It makes sense to do it either way.”
“We’ll help him no matter what, and so will the rest of his disciples.”
—----------------------
“Let’s see if you’re like my brother in any way other than your eyes,” was the last thing he’d ever heard from the living Wen Chao right as he threw him from his sword, and into the Burial Mounds.
“Well that’s certainly not how I expected to return,” he grumbled pulling Chenqing from his qiankun pouch but leaving Suibian inside. The resentment engulfed him almost immediately, slowing his fall and placing him on the ground unscathed.
As he began to play he could feel the mountain and its inhabitants welcome him home and bend to his whims.
He wasn’t sure how many days he spent drawing in and cleansing the Yin Energy but the first thing he did upon leaving was obliterate the supervisory office.
He was almost glad his brother wasn’t there anymore.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to kill him.
—--------------------
They first called him the Yiling Patriarch for his actions but his immediate appearance at the front earned him a new title, the pure (or clean) demon, for he touched none but the Wens.
Notes:
updated the Wen Chao part
and even though I may not respond to each comment individually, I read each one and greatly appreciate the feedback and positive words
Chapter 17: General-y Speaking
Summary:
lots of stuff going on
Notes:
I've made some minor additions and modifications to all previously posted chapters
so if something doesn't seem to add up I promise I went back and edited the story so there aren't any anomalies
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They entered into the soon-to-be reclaimed supervisory office. They’d been following the rumors about the location of their and the other disciples (who had attended the indoctrination conference) swords.
It had been one of their initial goals, it was an easy way to boost morale and it wasn’t a massive investment of time and resources which was a plus. They decided, after much debate (far too many sect leaders were captivated by the idea of glorious bloodshed) they would first work to clear out the supervisory offices within the sects before they could begin to make any advancements on the borders.
They'd created a sort of blockade around what would become the front, subtly amassing troops and cutting off escape and supply routes for the supervisory offices. The last office to reclaim after the one they were in now was Lotus Pier, where Wen Chao had moved after the destruction of the Yiling supervisory office at the hands of the Yiling Laozu turned Jianguiyi-jun.
“This is kind of creepy,” Jiang Wanyin grumbled from beside him as the two of them made their way through the abnormally quiet office. He couldn't help but agree with the sentiment, not that he'd voice such an opinion out loud. There were only the two of them, intel said the office was very small but contained several well-fortified storerooms that would be ideal for hiding the swords, Wen Chao was far too arrogant to leave something he considered a prize behind in Qishan so he'd ordered his servants to transport the blades on more than one occasion. Reports led them to believe they were being kept here, yet as they approached the base they’d found no signs of anyone.
“Mm,” he agreed, neither of them had a way with words so they’d come to an understanding of sorts, Wen Ying and Nie Huaisang had been their buffers in the Cloud Recesses but now their social ineptitudes were on full display in the form of short conversations and frequent monosyllabic responses.
They’d made their way through all but two rooms of the supervisory office, carefully checking each and every room, waiting for someone to jump out of them. Yet as they worked through the building they found no one, yet items were strewn about as if their owners were expecting to return at any moment and resume a normal life. It left an unsettled feeling in his chest as if all those who resided here had simply vanished into thin air in the middle of their everyday lives. Had Jianguiyi-jun passed through? The last report of his activity was a week ago and while it was possible for the trip from where he’d lasted attacked the Wens to where they were now to be completed in a week it was only possible by flight and there had neither been reports of cultivators in the area nor any knowledge as to whether or not the man could even fly.
They stood outside the last rooms aside from the storerooms, he stepped towards the door on the right and Jiang Wanyin the one on the left. With a silent nod and swords at the ready, they kicked in their respective doors. His eyes scanned the room in front of him, it was sparsely furnished but it had three bedrolls, all packed and ready to go, as if their owners had begun preparations to leave before nightfall. Clearly, not all the guards had been caught by surprise, but that still begged the question; where were they?
The answer came shortly after.
“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Jiang Wanyin shouted from the next room and he quickly made his way over
There, lying on the floor were four of the seven guards, all seemingly poisoned with their eyes closed but their mouths opened as if they were about to bolt upright and gasp for breath.
“They're all…” his voice trailed off as the Jiang Heir walked over and nudged one with the tip of his sword, causing the body’s left arm to slide off its stomach and drop to the floor unceremoniously, cold, lifeless, and bent at an unnatural angle, cultivation always resulted in abnormal rigor mortis.
“Dead, yes,” came a third voice from behind them. Three boys, two not much younger than them stood behind someone who appeared to be around the same age as his brother. He pointed his sword at them immediately but they made no move for their own. “You took longer than we expected.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the Jiang beside him bristled.
“The intel, we practically served you the location of this office on a silver platter,” said the younger boy on the right, but he shut his mouth when the eldest one glared at him.
“Not even loyal to your own sect? Wen dogs are truly disgusting,” Jiang Wanyin sneered and Lan Wangji couldn’t help but remember his conversation with Wen Ying in the Cold Pond all those months ago.
“We’re loyal to our Young Master,” came the cool answer, none of the Wens rising to the bait or refuting the name by which they were frequently called. He found it to be an admirable show of restraint yet it also stung a bit, Wen Ying had despised the name and he could only imagine how it felt to be on the receiving end of merely for the blood in your veins.
“Who’s your young master?” Jiang Wanyin shot back immediately, not letting his guard down even for a second.
The boy's gaze tracked to his wrist and he realized Wen Ying’s ribbon was showing, he shifted his wrist slightly, shaking down the fabric in order to make his sleeves cover it once more. The Wen’s eyes met his and he had to keep himself from shifting under the heavy scrutiny of the gaze. “I think you already know, Young Master Jiang, Second Young Master Lan, that we serve the Third Young Master Wen and his heir alone.”
The Jiang scoffed, “Easy for you to say, how do we know that we can trust you?”
One of the younger boys grumbled something but before he could ask the boy to repeat himself the eldest spoke. “We will give you the swords you came for and then you may escort us to Wen Qionglin who can vouch for us.”
“Fine,” Jiang Wanyin said after glancing over at him and receiving a nod, but he made no move to sheath his temporary sword, Guozhi, remained drawn and aimed towards the trio. The Wens seemed to have expected this and turned and led the way, showing no sign of fear that they might be cut down from behind.
They led them to the store room and the wards around it glistened as one of them set about removing them, knicking their finger on a small dagger they’d produced and pressing their cut to the door. Only when the wards faded did they wipe their blood on their black robes, careful not to stain the white belt of mourning they wore. “Sorry they open for those under blood oath to the main family, you would’ve eventually gotten in but you’d find yourself missing a fair amount of your arms and probably a decent chunk of your face.” Came the passive explanation, spoken in a tone that was bored not like they were talking about a form of cultivation that bordered on forbidden, though he supposed he could no longer judge since he fought alongside an actual demonic cultivator.
The other two pressed the doors opened and entered the room, he heard clattering and then they came out and laid the swords out on the ground. The shorter one picked up Bichen and carefully presented it to him while the other young boy did the same with Sandu to Jiang Wanyin. They both drew their swords and sheathed the spares they’d been using all this time. The way Bichen hummed in his hand almost drew a smile to his face, how he’d missed her.
“So these are the Jin swords, the Nie sabers, these are the Jiangs and the rest belong to the minor sects but they don't have a unique enough style for us to stay for sure what belongs to whom,” the eldest explained awkwardly, rubbing his arm as a testament to his nerves.
“Thank you…” he trailed off realizing he’d never asked names.
“Wen Zemin,” the eldest bowed. “And these two idiots-”
“HEY!”
“-are my little brothers, Wen Suyin and Wen Yingjie.” he gestured at each as he spoke and he noted that Wen Suyin had been the one to hand him Bichen.
—-------------
They’d just arrived and were about to escort them to Wen Ning to see if they were actually friends or foes.
Yet they’d been stopped when Wen Mingli, one of the healers that had been sent by Wen Ying to aid his sect, came running up to them. He’d barely managed to sidestep the girl as she threw her arms around Wen Zemin laughing through tears as he held her close and his younger brothers jeered.
“Mingli, wha-” Wen Qionglin rounded the corner and stopped. He smiled slightly at the sight and bowed to him and Jiang Wanyin, “Thank you for bringing them here safely, as you can see they’ve been deeply missed.”
“Are they…?” Jiang Wanyin made a vague gesture at the pair who were still embracing one another.
“No, no, they were supposed to be married in two weeks but they got separated when Mingli came with me to the Cloud Recesses, and Zemin and his brothers fled Nightless City with the help of my cousin.”
“Captain,” Wen Zemin’s voice caused Wen Qionglin to pause and turn, seeing the man bowing.
“At ease,” came the command that he’d never expected. He’d forgotten Wen Qionglin was the Captain of Wen Ying’s personal guard, the boy appeared far too mild-mannered but he knew looks could be deceiving. “It’s good to see you safe, I will speak with you later, for now, go assure your friends you are safe.”
The three boys nodded and the quartet left the three of them standing in the hall together.
“So, I’m just going to go,” Jiang Wanyin said, making a half-aborted motion to leave, waiting just long enough to see if anyone would make him stay.
“Young Master Jiang? I believe they are planning the recapture of Lotus Pier in the war room right now,” was all Wen Qionglin said.
With a nod the Jiang heir left, leaving the two of them alone in the hall.
"I can help you return the swords to their owners if you'd like," Wen Qionglin offered quietly.
"Mm, thank you."
—----------
They had five hundred cultivators with them, all the Wens who had managed to escape the other supervisory offices had descended on Lotus Pier, making it the largest supervisory office by far. Scouts estimated there were almost seven hundred Wens but Wen Qionglin and several others had said that some were defectors and would fight by their side, they’d begged to let a few Wens come with to identify who was actually a friend and who was faking, a request that was begrudgingly accepted on the condition they only send healers, which they’d easily agreed to.
It was a lot smaller than the original group of cultivators that’d attacked when Wen Chao first arrived at Lotus Pier and this time the Jiangs had the element of surprise rather than the Wens. Many of the original soldiers had been spread among the supervisory offices and those that weren’t recognized as allies by Wen Qionglin himself or one of his advisors were executed.
He and his parents had been rather surprised with how many Wens had arrived in the Unclean realm, There were almost two hundred, and more had arrived just as they’d left, each dressed in black with a white sash and red tassel, something they were beginning to realize was becoming the new Wen Sect robes.
“Ready?” he asked one of the Nies who had come with them, considering the troops they had was roughly a third of the Jiang’s sects’ cultivators and many were already placed at the border they had a mix of Nie and Jiang cultivators with a few Lans and, of course, the Wen healers who would identify allies after the fighting.
“Everything is as it should be,” came her response, “We will march whenever you and the Madam see fit.”
He nodded and thanked her before making his way over to his mother, “The Nies are ready to go.”
“Excellent,” she said, Jinzhu and Yinzhu smiled from beside her, the expression particularly savage. They wanted revenge for the injuries sustained to their madam and themselves when Lotus Pier was invaded.
With the moon high overhead and the Wens deep in sleep, they marched, standing at the gates just after midnight.
Zidian crackled to life and the gates were torn open.
As they entered his home, ready to reclaim it, they heard the warning bells toll and the guards began to appear.
With a grin as sharp as his blade he readied himself for the inevitable.
They fought for hours, working their way through an increasing number of guards are more and more Wens began to emerge from their quarters, some still in their sleeping robes as they drew their swords and entered the fray. There had been shouts from the left and just as he and a group of cultivators were about to push the door open it flew off its hinges and they found a group of Wens dressed in black, covered in blood and surrounded by the corpses of their comrades.
“Young Master Jiang,” the leader of the group bowed, “welcome home.”
“Where's Wen Chao?” he said in lieu of a greeting, if these were allies they’d find out later.
“Sect Leader’s office,” came the easy response. It made sense, it was the most fortified of all the rooms in Lotus Pier and was the easiest to defend, located in the very heart of the building complexes.
“And the Core Melter?” said one of the Nies with him, a reasonable and important question.
The Wens glanced amongst themselves, each either shaking their heads or shrugging their shoulders, turning back to him the leader shrugged and said “We haven't seen him in a few days…”
“So he’d probably be with Wen Chao,” he grumbled, mostly to himself.
“Probably wants to kill the little shit himself,” one of the Wens laughed, surprising the rest of the group into laughter.
The brief reprieve didn’t last long though as a new wave of guards appeared.
“You’re going to have fun cleaning this up,” one of the Nies said lightly as they returned to the fray.
The sky was beginning to turn purple when they surrounded the room where the Wens had opted to make the last stand, his mother’s Zidian cut through the last guards in front of the doors and Jinzhu and Yionzhu forced the doors open.
Inside were Wangling Jiao and Wen Chao, the whore screamed and threw herself at his feet and begged for mercy, something he offered in the form of separating her head from her shoulders, a site that made the Wen Heir turn even paler.
His mother walked forward, head held high as she snarled down at the scum, drawing her sword she brought it down in one swift motion.
Just as the sun rose, gracing to sky with the warm shades of an orange and pink dawn, Wen Chao was dead.
—------------
He’d never really believed the legend, that Wens could feel when a family member died. He’d assumed it was false considering how everyone bought his death, but maybe emotions had blinded the rational mind.
Yet as he made himself comfortable in the tree where he would hide and rest until darkness fell once more he swore he could feel his second brother pass.
Wen Chao was already dead to him and had been for a long time, but this was truly final.
So finding solace in the ghosts that constantly circled him, comforting him, he let the tears fall.
—------------
“They’re all to be trusted,” Wen Fengge said lightly, he was the only non-healer allowed to come due to his and his mother’s faith in him as Wen Qionglin’s advisor and his actions at Lotus Pier during the first invasion.
“Are you sure? There's at least a hundred or so of them.”
“One hundred and forty-six to be precise, and yes.” Came the reply but his mother’s skeptical expression led the boy to elaborate. “Wen Wuxian is the sole commander of two hundred disciples and cultivators, he and Wen Chao had joint command of roughly four hundred, maybe more if you add in the ones he has joining command over with Wen Xu, many of whom have either already defected and are in the Unclean Realm such as Wen Zemin, but most are here.”
“That’s why it was so easy to our home reclaim isn’t it,” his mother said thoughtfully, her eyes sharply analyzing the boy's face for any indication of falsehood.
He nodded and bowed low, “Yes Madam Yu, our Third Young Master has always been the favorite amongst the brothers in the eyes of the people of the Wen Sect, their betrayal of Wen Chao is a surprise perhaps to only the Second Young Master Wen himself.”
—-----------
He was with the archers, standing on the cliffs above the battlefield when he heard it.
A long low note cut through the air like an arrow.
It wavered off slightly at the end and he felt his hair stand on end as he realized what such a sound meant.
It repeated once, and then twice more, he saw the other black-robed Wens look up at the sound, they knew too.
The song that began was a sorrowful one, one he hadn’t heard before.
The notes resounded through the air and bounced off the cliffs, and wherever it was heard resentment was sure to follow.
He watched as the fighting raged on but those not actively engaged in combat began to shift nervously.
From above he watched as resentment stirred the soil under the Wens, as more corpses, older corpses, barely held together by petrified flesh, began to raise themselves from the grave.
“It’s Wen Ruohan!” he heard someone shout and he almost chuckled, oh how wrong they were. His uncle was a demonic cultivator, yes, but his son was far more powerful, though Wen Wuxian had never tested his limits Wen Ning had a guess as to what exactly they were. After all, one of Wen Mao’s grandchildren had been unable to cleanse the Burial Mounds so he had contained it in the wards that had lasted centuries as his challenge. Yet at five years of age, his cousin had crossed the boundary no one dared to and was welcomed by the dead.
So no, he was far worse.
And below him, the corpses which had already been lifted by Wen Ruohan turned on the Wens and the newer ones began to join in.
It seemingly took both sides a while to realize that the corpses no longer fought for Wen Ruohan but rather for the Sects of the Sunshot Campaign.
Having made this realization the Wens turned and ran.
The corpses, unlike the allied sects, did not follow.
Rather, the bodies marched orderly to the base of the cliffs and laid themselves down as a soothing, happier began to play, the resentment began wafting off of them like smoke, they were being cleansed, he realized belatedly.
Wen Wuxian was probably going to use the Yin he noted and he, along with everyone else, watched in awe as the fierce corpses were purged of their earthly woes and their souls (or what was left of them) were pushed on, given the free pass through the incarnation cycle that Wen Ying always gave to those he wielded.
Xue Yang turned to him with a gleam in his eyes when they met at the base of the cliffs “That was awesome!” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement and he sighed. The boy's fascination with his cousin’s cultivation was concerning but he knew the boy wouldn’t do anything and Wen Wuxian wouldn’t teach him no matter how much he pleaded.
—-------------
The second he heard the flute he knew Wen Wuxian had arrived, the thought brought a smile to his face.
Now the other Wens were in for it.
He didn’t know how much resentful energy his master could wield, he knew that even without the Yin Iron Wen Wuxian could still rival his father in terms of power and far surpassed him in terms of control. His knowledge of resentful energy was supplemented by the Burial Mounds and the dead that he occasionally would let Xue Yang perform empathy with when he needed to learn a new skill.
Something that confused him though was that his master wasn’t raising the freshest corpses which confused him but he knew Wen Wuxian was powerful, he likely knew they wouldn’t be needed.
So with a laugh, he leaped into the battle, tearing his way through the Wens, knowing the corpses would shield him as he went.
—-----------
The first notes of an all too familiar song resounded through the air. It was one he knew well, it was a song that was used to mourn, a song of a soldier at war forced to decide between what he loves and what is right.
It was rather ironic, that someone should choose to play such a song yet as he tried to figure out which Lan disciple had begun to play he found none, each of his fellow sect members looking equally confused.
Yet he hadn’t been able to dwell on it when a Jin screamed “ITS WEN RUOHAN!” pointing as even more corpses, ones far older by the looks of the bones that could be seen through the rotting flesh, dragged themselves out of the mud, and their graves.
He gritted his teeth and took a breath, readying himself for the newest onslaught but none came.
It took him a few moments to realize what was happening but he realized the corpses were turning on the Wens, lunging at them in a manner so savage that it made their actions earlier look tame, like a house cat being compared to a tiger.
The Wens, seemingly having come to the same conclusion began to retreat, falling back with shouts of panic and fear.
The Nies and Jiangs pursued the fleeing Wens a short way but eventually stopped as they couldn’t risk moving too far from the supply lines so soon. He and the other cultivators who hadn’t chased after the Wens couldn’t help but watch in awe as the corpses began to lay themselves down in neat rows, the flute changing from sorrowful to hopeful, and the resentful energy began to leave the bodies.
Pulling out Wangji he began to play cleansing, aiding the unknown flute player in pushing the souls of the corpses and the recently fallen to move on.
As more and more Lans joined him in playing Cleansing the mystery flute began to fade out, eventually ceasing entirely as the Lans took over the task of cleansing the battlefield while healers worked to save the injured.
“How did they know that song?” one of the Lan disciples he passed said softly to his friend, “I thought it was unknown outside of Gusu.”
“Maybe they’ve visited and found the song worth remembering?”
“Must be,” came the sigh.
His decision to play Chenqing from the shadow of the trees up on the cliffs, away from Wen Ning and the archers was one he’d made after much debate.
Originally he was going to fight as an ordinary cultivator, as the Third Young Master Wen to encourage defection while his father dismissed his reappearance as rumors and propaganda. But when he saw his father begin to raise more and more corpses from a distance with the help of the Yin Iron he knew that wouldn’t be enough.
He’d need the help of the dead, yet if he revealed himself he likely wouldn’t be able to sneak away to play Chenqing, and on top of that his father would be unable to dismiss his resurfacing combined with the demonic cultivator playing a flute, he’d know.
So that left him with one final option.
Jianguiyi-jun would fight with the sunshot campaign, the rumors of his flute playing at the supervisory offices making it so the sects would probably connect the dots and realize he was an ally. And when it was time for Wen Wuxian to reappear he’d been helping orchestrate the Wens from the inside, which wouldn’t exactly be false.
He’d smiled to himself when he realized Wen Ning had been looking for him, he’d done an excellent job getting the Wens in order and ensuring the other sects left them alone.
It was a surprising thing to many but he knew his cousin worked well under pressure, giving him a goal and a vague plan and he’d figure the rest out. Wen Ning had revealed he was much like Nie Huaisang, however, his meek persona was not an act unlike the Nie heir, but rather he was just a gentle soul with the heart of a lion dog.
He’d need to promote him.
—-------------
As the days grew to weeks the next phase of the war raged on.
He, like all the other sects he spoke to, received no more information about Wen Wuxian, the only continued proof he had was the new batch of Wen Cultivators that would meet them at every break in the front or would be recognized from the groups that threw down their swords and kneeled along the side of the battlefields. They would always come with new supplies and intel that, for the large part was completely accurate save some minor differences.
He also, couldn’t help but notice how the newer Wen Cultivators didn’t refer to Wen Qionglin as Captain, but rather they called him general. He’d admittedly thought it to be a joke at first, with the moniker Wen Qionglin had being the Ghost General due to his ability to seamlessly incorporate Jianguiyi-jun’s playing into his strategies whenever and wherever his troops fought. However, he and the other Sect Leaders and Heirs soon realized that the change in title was legitimate.
A new tassel hung from the Wen’s robes, one that made any Wen who saw it bow with respect, someone had asked about it, a drunken Jin (only the Jins would spend money on alcohol during a fucking war), and a letter was produced, signed, and stamped with Wen Wuxian’s personal motif.
Over the course of the war, many sect leaders were slowly becoming legendary.
Lan Xichen was bestowed the title of Zewu-Jun.
Lan Wangji earned the title Hanguang-jun.
The Jiang Heir was known as Sandu Shengsho.
Sect Leader Nie became the renowned Chifeng-zun.
Even, Jiangiuyi-jun, despite having no face to the name was infamous.
And with the order Gui Jiangjun became another title on the lips of the common people.
—-------------
He wrote the boy almost daily, leaving the letters in the forest in a patch with abnormally high levels of resentful energy knowing his cousin would be able to find it. He was honestly glad to have a heightened ability to sense Yin levels thanks to his run-in with the Fairy statue in his youth, It had weakened his soul temporarily but now he had his own internal compass for Yin, which typically led him to the Third Young Master Wen. Something rather helpful when his main job was keeping track of the boy and keeping him safe.
He wrote of anything and everything, how the troops were doing, what the new intel was in case Wen Wuxian hadn’t heard, he asked about his sister, whom Wen Wuxian was keeping in touch with via the brass mirrors. He spoke of the weather and the wounded and who joined them most recently, of how the Wens who had joined them outnumbered the foot soldiers the Jin Heir had brought with him without his father’s knowledge.
The responses he got were light and teasing but also full of second meanings and hints. The only things he spoke openly of were Wen Qing’s responses, complaining that she was always asking for updates about him. He also wrote of the rumors of the ghost general (and jokes - namely the overly zealous and unnecessary use of the word general, typically written in bolder strokes), which brought a smile to Xue Yang’s face too when he let the boy read the letters.
He’d asked when Wen Wuxain would reveal himself and was met with the vaguest (and most unhelpful) answer of all.
When the time is right.
—------------
“Wen Qing,” her uncle said in his usual ominous tone. She fought to keep from holding her breath each time he called her, waiting for him to finally have realized her family’s absence, her brother’s betrayal, her ongoing acts of treason, the fact his youngest son was alive, so many things she kept from him that made her dread each time he uttered her name.
“Meet Meng Yao, he is our new head of torture and an advisor, Meng Yao this is my niece and personal medic, Wen Qing.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Young Master Meng,” she bowed, keeping her face carefully neutral.
“The honor is all mine Maiden Wen, your work is legendary. I do hope I would be able to speak with you on the anatomy of the body to ensure I do not need to call on you too often to save a prisoner’s life.” came the light-hearted reply, the tone almost jovial, as if they were in on a joke few others were privy too.
“Mm,” her uncle gave a monosyllabic approval and she turned to leave, yet she couldn’t help but notice the almost maniacal worshipping look in Meng Yao’s eyes whenever he looked at her uncle.
This could be a problem.
—--------------
In his room, he activated the talisman Xue Yang had given him.
“Yes?” came the voice through the talisman, it sounded distorted, preventing him from knowing if the speaker was a man or woman.
“Wen Qing?” he asked, not wanting to give himself away so soon.
“Who is this?” came the reply, he took it as an affirmative.
Taking a calming breath he explained as best he could, “I’m a friend of Xue Yang’s let us go for a walk in the garden later.”
“Sunset,” came the only reply.
The talisman deactivated and he felt his whole body relax, the first step was done.
Now came the hard part.
—-------------
It had been several months since he’d last seen or heard from Meng Yao.
It was like the man had vanished from the face of the earth.
He would’ve believed him dead had it not been for the map placed outside his quarters, the note left on it in an elegant scrawl he immediately recognized.
Good luck.
He picked up the scroll and moved inside, unrolling it to reveal a map of the Wen Troops within Qishan.
He couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face as he went to speak to Nie Mingjue.
He’d always known Meng Yao was clever.
—-------------
It was a few weeks later that the unexpected happened.
He noticed the presence immediately, eyes connecting across the battlefield with those of the man who’d burned his sect to the ground and broken his leg.
Wen Ying’s oldest and last surviving brother, Wen Xu, had finally made an appearance.
Notes:
this was hard to start but easy to finish, hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
Chapter 18: Funerals and Fengxin
Notes:
there's a lot going on and time is irrelevant at this point, I'm trying to keep things vague so I don't fuck up timelines
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“So you’re absolutely sure this man is to be trusted?”
“Yes, I’d trust him with my life-”
“That’s what you’re doing right now.”
He pointedly ignored the grumbling and continued on. “-and he can continue to provide information because the Wens that defect can only bring the latest updates, not long-term strategies, they’re a one and done.”
“Hm,” the Nie Sect Leader hummed thoughtfully. “Very well Xichen, I trust your judgment… as per usual.”
That brought a smile of relief to the elder Jade of Lans’ face, “Thank you Mingjue.”
He received a nod and a small smile that he rarely got from his love.
This meant he would now have the full support of the Nie Sect when he presented the strategy based on Meng Yao’s map.
--------------
“So we split to multiple fronts to make sure the Wens can’t corner us too easily?”
“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, because in reality that was all they could do.
“It also allows us to utilize a more diverse network of supply lines and tap into more resources which could allow us to sustain more troops and healers closer to the border so there is less of a need for marching.” Jiang Fengmian commented, that such an acknowledgment was taken as a sign of his approval, and that now meant the three of the five major sects present were in agreement.
“I have no issue with it,” Jin Zixuan said, eyes scanning the map once more, the boy had snuck out with as many soldiers as he could without his Father’s approval. It was a bold move that instantly made the other Sect Leaders respect him more, as a person rather than a figurehead and hier that is.
"Are we sure this will work?"
Wen Qionglin sighed almost inaudibly beside him. "I was personally trained by Wen Ruohan in war strategies, I had access to the entirety of the Wen Sect, I am quite confident in this plan."
"Even if they cornered us we could fight our way out though," someone else said.
"Not really," the Wen said calmly. "I know the training, we all went through it." he gestured at himself and the other Wens around him. "It's ingrained that during times of war, it's 'kill, fight, die' because that's what a soldier should do. You're not fighting Wen Cutlivators, you're fighting Wen Soldiers and that means there's no surrender and there's no retreat. Let's say we're cornered, even if you didn't need to worry about supply routes and somehow manage to get the upper hand you will need to kill every last Wen Soldier to get out."
A grave silence settled over the room at that, the word sinking in, the understanding beginning to form of just how far the Wens were willing to go to win.
“And who will deal with the black robe Wens?” Sect Leader Yao’s grating voice made all the approvals and the earlier point seem insignificant as suddenly the other Sect Leaders began to mumble amongst themselves.
One of the Wens placed a hand over Xue Chengmei’s mouth, something that had him holding back a smirk. The boy was fiery and he admittedly would’ve made an excellent Nie in terms of temperament, though he certainly wouldn’t want to handle the boy, who had a penchant for talisman-making that he used in tandem with his chaotic sword forms.
“We would be divided as any other group would, of course, those from my sect only be placed under the command of experienced, trustworthy, and fair leaders so you need not worry about how we conduct ourselves.” Wen Qionglin’s response came and he couldn’t help the laughter that burst forth from his chest. Huaisang had said the boy had potential but he’d never expected something like this. The polite tone and innocent face were masterfully used so it appeared as if the ghost general truly believed he was doing Sect Leader Yao a favor rather than calling him dishonorable, untrustworthy, and inexperienced in front of every sect and to his face.
It was truly a glorious sight to see before they decided whom people would need to say goodbye to.
—----------
The instant he made eye contact with the man, no, the monster who’d destroyed his home, and killed his father he knew he’d fight him.
It didn't matter how many Wens he needed to cut down, how long he needed to fight, he’d avenge his sect…
Then he’d pray to the ancestors that Wen Ying could forgive him.
The rage that filled him was almost inhumane, it swelled in him like the clouds of the winter storms that drowned his home in the snow every year, coursed through him, and cleared his mind like the waters of the cold springs. It was a sensation he hadn't felt since his home burnt down except this time he didn't feel helpless, wasn't sporting a broken leg, was no longer that confused and scared boy. War broke people, it either it broke them and they stayed that way or they were forged, and he had been born anew as a warrior since he stepped onto the battlefield no matter how much he hated it.
The field in which the two armies met was dusty and dirty yet he knew it would soon turn into a crimson mud pit with the blood that was always shed, would become uneven as corpses rose from the grave, prepared to fight to their dismemberment against Wen Ruohan or for him.
On his left the Nie contingent seemed to notice the newest arrival too, their jeers and taunts rising over the space between them as the troops waited to break the stalemate.
Thwack
The first body, clad in red and white, slumped to the ground, an arrow in his eye, and with a resounding roar for their fallen comrade, the Wens charged.
He transformed into a streak of pale blue, his sword glare flashing as he cut his way through corpses and cultivators alike like farmers through a wheat field.
He tried not to think about anything other than the mechanical swinging of Bichen and the dodging of returning swings.
Duck left.
Stab right.
Aim for the knees and shoulders.
He steadily worked his way into the Wen ranks, flanked by a mixture of Nie, Jiang, and Lan disciples who’d noticed his progress and decided to follow him and watch his back.
All around him talismans and arrows were flying and men dropped to the ground only to rise again.
He’d stopped checking if those he cut down were actually dead, so long as they didn’t get back up he need not worry about them.
It was brutal, yes, but it was the only way to survive such a scene.
He had a cut on his arm from a close encounter with an arrow, countless bruises from bodies colliding with his own, and he could taste the blood, from either the cut on his cheek or the back spray every time he sent Bichen singing through the air.
He wouldn’t be able to use Wangji until the living began to thin out.
He kept waiting for the telltale flute but like a few days prior, the air remained silent save for the gasping pants of the living, the gurgling screams of the dying, and the otherworldly groans of the dead. Wen Qionglin had guessed the player needed to restore his health, after all the man was surely going to fall apart with such usage of demonic cultivation, a sentiment many agreed with. It did make him wish to meet the one who had sacrificed so much for the cause, whether to thank them for all they'd done or reprimand them for such heretical ways he wasn't sure, the latter would've been what he would've done in his youth but now he leaned more towards the former.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been but his arms were beginning to burn, not even the infamous handstands of the Lan sect truly prepared one for the endless ferocity and exhaustion of a true battle.
Yet this time, when he cut down his enemy a new one didn’t immediately greet him, giving him the chance to see the face of the figuring lunging towards him.
He raised Bichen and with a renewed fervor, met Wen Xu’s sword, FengXin (phoenix heart - his sword doesn’t have a name so I gave it one). The blades scraped harshly against one another as their spiritual energy resounded causing all to take note of the new point of engagement.
This is what it should’ve been in Cloud Recesses, had Su She not spoken to the Wens of the Yin Iron shard in his sect’s possession, giving the Wens their third of the five pieces of the cursed metal, he'd need to apologize to Lady Yi for his failure.
He didn’t say a word as they separated and clashed again, all his focus on killing the thing in front of him.
He wasn’t sure exactly when but sometime during their endless clashing of blades they didn’t have the chance to maintain proper forms, not that he did during battle, but at this point he was making shit up as he went, desperately trying to break Wen Xu’s defenses, which remained strong as the man had had the luxury of not fighting his way through, trusting his opponents to have to work their way through the hoards of corpses and cultivators to be close enough to fight him.
The price of his efforts had taken its toll and Wen Xu seemed to realize that, swinging Fengxin with enough force to send him sliding back several paces into a fierce corpse which bit into his sleeve and he had to cut it loose.
Just as he’d cut almost half his sleeve off and beheaded the corpse did he realize his fatal error.
He’d taken his attention off of Wen Xu.
—---- earlier -------
“That’s the best idea you could come up with?” Wen Qing’s exasperated voice came through the bronze mirror accompanied by a scowl that was so familiar it made him smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”
“Well… this is war and we only get one chance to do this. There’s no redos, we either win or all of us get tortured and executed for treason.”
“I know I can’t stop you and nothing I say will, so why are you telling me?”
“I don’t know, because I trust your judgment? Or so if something goes horrifically wrong you won’t be blindsided? You are my heir after all.”
That earned him a heavy sigh and he knew she would acquiesce. “I see your point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!”
“I know, I know, I’m going to try and use as little of my Yin as possible in this.”
“So what are you going to do? Go to the burial mounds? That's the complete opposite direction!”
“No, no, I was thinking maybe kill two problems with one shard.”
She gave him a quizzical look but he watched as she mentally ran through the sources of yin large enough to work in such a task, “you mean-”
“I’ll be stopping by Gusu, yes.”
—----- present --------
The Lan met his gaze across the field, over the heads of the soldiers in front of him.
The Younger Jade was infamous for having immovable and cold features, yet he swore he saw those gold eyes turn colder, this was a fight he’d been anticipating.
He’d watched causally as the streak of blue worked its way through the red and white of his sect, dodging the occasional arrow that caught a lucky breeze or contained large amounts of spiritual energy to get close to him. Finally, he decided to meet the boy halfway as he cut the last corpse that stood between them down.
Their blades met, sending a small shower of sparks raining to the blood-soaked ground and he almost smiled. The force that pushed back on his arms and forced him to put effort into holding his ground was truly admirable. The cold face was ever present despite the labored breathing and the gold eyes pierced into him in a way that made him all the more eager for the rest of their fight. The look resembled that of a caged beast, ready to unleash its fury on the first person to set it free… or beat it into submission.
He would do so.
A-Ying had mentioned that dueling with the Younger Jade of Lan had been exhilarating, his baby brother could've won that match but it was clear he hadn't had the interest to carry on dueling, and Wen Xu was pleased to note that despite the now Lan Heir’s exhausted state did not negate his formidability.
He was still a worthy opponent.
It was nice he was able to properly fight the boy before he died, having never gotten the chance to when his father sent him to the Cloud Recesses to fetch the Yin Iron and make an example of them, he also knew he was sent as a punishment for his failure earlier on, to burn the library and destroy the knowledge within.
Yet he couldn’t draw this fight out, the Nie Sect Leader and any other cultivator in search of glory would likely be making their way towards him as he was now the sole direct heir to the Wen Sect, he needed to end this fast.
As fate would have it, circumstances were on his side and he managed a well-placed swing that sent the Lan sliding backward, taking advantage of the blood-soaked ground, and right into a fierce corpse that promptly latched onto the boy’s sleeve.
He moved forward, ready to take the swing, to let Fengxin finish him off as the boy finished cutting himself free when he saw it.
A bit of crimson ribbon fluttered in the air.
All around him, the world seemed to freeze as he passively wondered if he’d been hallucinating or if it had been a trick of the light. The Lan Clan were known to tie the forehead ribbons of their partners onto their wrists, perhaps it was a Lan ribbon stained with the blood of battle.
But he knew this to be false, neither Jade of Lan were married or engaged, and blood did not dry on white fabric and maintain the vibrant color that it always held when first spilled, no, blood dried an ugly reddish-brown, after all, he was quite familiar with the color.
He prayed he was wrong, that his eyes deceived him, so he blinked and then continued to track the ribbon with his gaze.
That flash of cheerful, rich red fabric was suddenly the only thing that mattered.
“A-Ying” he whispered, voice swept away by the wind and dragged under by the sounds of battle.
There, wrapped around the wrist of the enemy, was his baby brother’s mother's ribbon.
There were only two in existence, an identical set, one that was from his stepmother’s childhood, the other having been a gift from his father to his stepmother. Each was intricately embroidered with flowers and intricate, almost indistinguishable protective talismans that helped prevent curses or other forms of spiritual harm to the wearer. Both had been given to a-Ying as a gift, and he’d been buried with the only one they ever found. (They didn't know Wen Wuxian had commissioned a Third Ribbon and that was the one buried in the tomb).
That meant…
This was his brother's other one.
To give an item that used to belong to each parent was a common confession of love in Qishan.
You’d give from one parent to declare your love and from the other on your wedding day, it signified you were giving all you were to the other person, that you were irrevocably theirs in every way.
————————
Three quiet knocks resounded through his room, with a sigh he placed the book down he had been reading, checked he was presentable, and was about to ask what the hell his unexpected visitor wanted when a soft voice called through the door, “Da-ge?”
Immediately any irritation seeped away, whenever his younger brothers called him that it was typically something of importance. Come to think of it the last time he’d been called that was around Wen Wuxian’s 9th birthday, when he’d completed his challenge and bought his youngest brother his first dizi. It was still a point of pride for him that his brother had chosen to craft a perfect replica in black for his challenge, even if any sight of such a flute made his chest ache nowadays.
Slowly the door opened and A-Ying stepped in and shut it promptly behind him, no surprise Wen Chao hardly ever visited him. Ever since the injury their middle brother had grown cold and distant, allowing a chasm to form and widen within their relationship with each passing day.
”What is it Wen Ying?” he prompted, yet his brother seemed to suddenly struggle to find the words, a rare thing considering his brother’s incessant questions and sharp mind. “A-Ying,” he sighed after the silence stretched out, “you know I’m always on your side right?”
His youngest brother drew a rattling breath and spoke softly, staring at the ground with his voice lacking its usual boisterous air “If… if I ever fell in love and… and something happened- to me that is- would… would you protect them in my stead?”
He wasn’t really sure what to make of the question, the idea of something happening to his baby brother made his stomach knot and his mouth go dry. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to either of his brothers, even if it meant protecting them from their father. “I- what kind of question is that A-Ying? Of course, I would! And,” he pointed a finger at his brother “nothing is going to happen to you as long as I draw breath, you know that right?” His baby brother nodded meekly, “Actually, I give you permission to reanimate my corpse to ensure your safety should it ever be necessary, understood?”
“Da-ge I- I could never-“
”A-Ying,” he said with a ferocity that he didn’t normally use, his brother must’ve noticed as he promptly shut his mouth, “I need you to promise me,” he fought to keep his voice from breaking, “that you will stay safe by any means necessary.”
“But-“
”PROMISE ME.”
“I promise Da-ge,” his brother sighed.
”Good,” he grabbed his brother and pulled him into a hug. It must’ve caught the boy off guard because he stumbled slightly before regaining his footing and leaning into the rare embrace. Wens didn’t do affection, well maybe most did, but the main family didn’t, his father least of all, he tried to show his younger brothers some semblance of it whenever he could but he could hardly replace the parents his youngest brother had lost.
“Has my little A-Ying become a grown-up and fallen in love?” he teased after a short while.
“DA-GE!” came his brother's muffled and mortified voice, “way to ruin the moment!”
That startled a laugh out of him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, and he tousled his brother’s hair as the boy pulled away, grey eyes shining with laughter just like they always used to.
It had been one of their last conversations.
He’d been running a drill with the troops when the word came his brother was ailing, he’d assumed it was Wen Chao and his weak constitution, the man got sick every few months and always made a fuss. Never for a second had it crossed his mind that it might be his baby brother. The drill ended in a few days so he figured he would finish and then make the trip back.
He’d landed in Nightless City to see white, so much white, banners, lanterns, and robes. Mourning robes. His heart sank, he and Wen Chao had a strained relationship but he’d never wish either of his brothers dead. He’d entered the palace, being met with an endless stream of pitying looks from servants with red-rimmed and puffy eyes. That should’ve been his first clue, he’d gone to find his father but found the throne room empty. He’d headed to Wen Chao’s quarters next and found those empty too, finally, he headed to his youngest brother's room, his father would probably want to be with A-Ying and if illness had taken Wen Chao he was probably already in the healer's wing.
Yet as he rounded the corner he was met with a sight he wasn’t expecting. Wen Chao standing, with Wen Qing by his side. His eyes traced his gaze and immediately his heart sank, his father knelt on the ground, body shaking ever so slightly as it rocked back and forth. Was it his mother? Was an epidemic upon them? Why were they in Wuxian’s rooms?
Yet when he stepped closer to see he wished he hadn’t.
Silver eyes stared back at him unseeing, a face once so full of life barely recognizable.
————————
Suddenly Fengxin felt too heavy to lift as if his entire body screamed in protest.
His baby brother was dead.
He would not remove one of the last remnants of his brother’s love from this world.
He’d made a promise.
He wouldn’t take the swing.
He couldn’t.
A-Ying would never forgive him.
And so he did something he’d never done in all his life just then.
He hesitated.
And in that moment’s hesitation, his fate was sealed.
Out of his peripheral, he saw the blade that swung towards him, felt the warmed metal connect with his neck and suddenly his promise was kept and he was free.
—-----------
He’d seen Xichen’s little brother fighting Wen Xu.
He knew Lan Wangji was capable of holding but Xichen would never forgive him should something happen to his baby brother, it was a sentiment he knew well. Not only that but they’d been fighting for a good part of the day while Wen Xu had merely observed.
He drew nearer and nearer, Baxia baying for blood as she slashed through the air, her spirit growing fiercer with each enemy they cut down, it was an easy feeling to get lost in.
Yet he was pulled from the haze of bloodlust when the Lan went stumbling back, becoming briefly distracted,
He was too far he realized in horror and Wen Xu moved forward, prepared to strike down the Lan.
He launched himself forward, Baxia outstretched, maybe… just maybe he could save his love’s little brother.
And by some miracle, Wen Xu hesitated.
Baxia howled with joy as she connected with the eldest son of Wen Ruohan, severing his head from his shoulders.
All around him, shouts rose, the Wens screaming at the loss of their last (at least to them) Young Master.
Even the corpses seemed to slump further at the announcement.
Yet he didn’t have the energy to chase after the fleeing Wens, his body felt like lead with all the energy he’d poured into Baxia throughout the day.
He could only watch passively as Wen Qionglin and his contingent of archers descended from the cliffs where they’d been shooting as healers swept into the battlefield to treat the wounded while the Wens gathered to greet the newest defectors who'd stripped off their white outer robes in the midst of battle to reveal black rather than red underrobes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, though it sounded more like a snarl once it left his mouth, as Wen Qionglin knelt by the corpse of Wen Xu.
The Wen didn’t look up as he gently pried Fengxin from its dead (and now headless) master’s grip and sheathed it. “My clan does not always use bodies in burial, Sect Leader Nie, for in times of war or death in night hunts bodies are too mutilated or resentful. Instead, we take an object of significance or that spent a lot of time with the deceased, like their spiritual tool, and treat it as their body in their last rights.”
“So why take Wen Xu’s sword?” he jutted his chin at the weapon in the Ghost General’s hand as the boy stood.
“The Third Young Master Wen would never wish to deny his brother a burial, we do not stop you from burying your dead, please do not stop us from providing ours the same courtesy.”
Those words echoed in his head even as he watched his men mount the head of Wen Xu on a pike to display.
None of the Wens spoke a word of it but he knew they all took the long way through camp to avoid the sight.
—-----------
“So, Meng Yao, you seem to be spending quite a bit of your free time with my niece, do I need to remind you where your loyalties lie?”
He quickly arranged his facial expression to become even more adoring, “My loyalty is to you and you alone Sect Leader Wen, your niece has been teaching me more of anatomy so I may serve you more effectively your grace.” He knelt to the ground and raised his arms in front of him and bowed his head in a proper salute as he continued, “It saddens me greatly that you think my loyalty lies elsewhere, if you would like I will happily put a sword through my chest for failing to adequately show my loyalty to you and thus causing you to question my faith.”
He prayed to the heavens the Wen Sect Leader wouldn’t call his bluff, if he did he would stab where the scar from the man in the brothel stabbed him in his lower torso or in one of the many other non-lethal areas Wen Qing had shown him to offer their meetings some semblance of legitimacy.
It was truly wondrous,a recommendation from Xue Yang had given him access to one of the biggest secrets in the cultivation world, the Third Young Master Wen’s continued survival. The mere word of a boy who had come from an even lower social standing than him, he was the bastard son of a promiscuous sect leader and a brothel worker. Xue Yang was, in his own words, a ‘street rat, whose entire existence was viewed as worth less than the price of a handful of sweets.’ It gave him hope for what he could accomplish under the new Wen Sect, or with the recommendation of the New Wen Sect Leader, and should the other sects lose he could probably save Xue Yang (who would likely be safe due to his status as Wen Wuxian’s head disciple despite being a traitor) and Lan Xichen and continue to play the part of a loyal dog at Wen Ruohan’s beck and call.
“My niece said the same, I just needed to ensure your priorities were in order, after all, I raised her, and she has far more to lose by betraying me.”
Came the cold response, he smiled and rose, thanking the man on the throne of black and red.
“You are dismissed,” the man waved his hand dismissively.
His steps didn’t hurry despite how he wished to leave the room quicker the closer he drew to the door, all around him he could feel the resentful energy in the room surge, he had no desire to be in the presence of the Yin Iron any more than he had to be.
—-------------
Getting to Gusu wouldn’t be the hard part, he could fly low under the light of the moon and duck into the shadow of the trees should someone see him, and almost all cultivators were now committed to the war effort so it wasn't likely.
The hard part was going to be getting into Gusu, or more specifically, so close to the Cloud Recesses where some cultivators, most of the elders, and a few healers still resided.
Lan Zhan knew he was alive and he was sure that Lan Xichen did too, but he didn’t need his name to be the newest gossip amongst the common people, or the Lans, who despite all their rules against it, would likely be unable to keep such information to themselves, not when his reappearance alone would be enough to help sway more Wens to abandon his father. According to Wen Ning’s latest letter before he left they had somewhere close to one thousand Wen Cultivators who had defected, total give or take a few hundred and not accounting for who was still alive and who was no longer amongst the living.
It was a cruel thing, war, the burial mounds seldom spoke of it, but the few dead who had shared their memories had opened his eyes to horrors beyond his comprehension. To know all that humanity was capable of in their darkest moments, and his father with the poisoning of the Yin iron, was likely to create a whole new type of unhinged atrocities.
Oh, also the Yin Iron and its incessant chattering.
That was another thing that plagued his journey.
He’d grabbed the sword from the Xuanwu, calling the cursed blade to him through the collapsed cave, somehow the blade had forced its way through without causing any further structural damage. He hadn’t even touched it, scooping it into his quinkun pouch like a butterfly into a net.
Yet no matter how many talismans he placed on the bag, or how far he pulled his own Yin into himself he could still hear the Yin Iron, even the dead that were constantly with him drifted even further than normal making him as close to alone with the cursed object as he possibly could be.
Thankfully the flight with it would be short as the other Sects had pushed their front close to the Qishan borders and the Xuanwu of Slaughter’s corpse was located surprisingly close to the Lan border given that it was still a day or two’s walk from Nightless City, or at least the towns surrounding it. He wasn’t entirely sure, he tried not to go walking through his sect for lengthy distances too often.
Ignoring the damned piece of metal he crossed the border and began making his way towards Caiyi, listening for the roaring resentment that he came in search of.
—----------
He’d found the lake with only a bit of difficulty, the Yin Iron almost drowning out the sounds of the resentment he was actually listening for. As he hovered over the dark waters on Suibian he could hear the turbulence swirling beneath the deceptively calm surface.
With a deep breath, he summoned Chenqing and prepared himself.
After he was sure he was in the right headspace he opened the qiankun pouch and grabbed hold of the Yin Iron Sword.
The moment he grabbed hold of it the voice flooded his mind.
brothe-
He ripped the sword from the bag and dropped it, catching it with the tip of his boot while taking a few deep breaths and waiting for the adrenaline to settle and his fingers to stop twitching.
Below him, the abyss began to stir.
Out of time he drew the dizi to his lips and began to play, closing his eyes as he did so, losing himself in the song.
He drew the Waterborne abyss from the water and began to feed it to the Yin Iron sword, using the spirits and energy of the Abyss to warp the spirit and resentment of the Yin Iron to his will.
After hours of playing, until his fingers spasmed and shook until his cheeks burned and his throat was raw until the sun began to creep its way up over the horizon, basking him in warm light, he played.
When he finally opened his eyes and held out his hand a sword wasn’t what dropped into it, but rather a small bead of metal, shaped almost like an enlarged grain of rice with a small thinner piece sticking off the bottom.
Yet when it touched his hand it split open, blooming into a lily as dark as the flute that had formed it. Squinting he realized swirls of water decorated the leaves, almost as if the abyss itself had left fingerprints on the petals, a reminder of what had formed such an intricate creation.
(In another life, another world this would've been the tiger tally, forged in a moment of desperation and hate, creating an untamable beast of unimaginable power, loyal to nothing and no one, but this, this was a spiritual tool solely forged, and solely wielded by its master.)
No voice screamed in his ear, instead, he could hear the morning bird song.
He could hear his own thoughts.
With a childish grin, he tucked it into the fold of his robes and looked down at the now crystal-clear lake, devoid of the abyss it had contained just yesterday.
Time to return to the front... and later Nightless City.
Notes:
lmk how y'all feel abt the photos, idk if I'm going to keep them or not yet
Chapter 19: Daybreak
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Alright, any questions?” Nie Mingjue said, giving the table one last cursory glance before scanning the room to make sure there were no objections or things they’d missed before the news was relayed to the rest of the cultivators and groups began to depart.
There was a beat of silence and Wen Ning almost let himself believe that the plan would be accepted without any issue when, of course, a cultivator dressed in gold cleared their throat and spoke in a tone he could only truly describe as a whine. “Are you sure we can trust the Wens?”
“Did the man who has been hiding from the battles on the front like a child behind his mother's leg due to an injury he won’t allow the healers to treat really just ask that?” Xue Yang said from behind him and Wen Fengge clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth and dragged him out of the tent. Wen Ning sighed internally and made a note to thank the boy for sparing them any more diplomatic damage and he could practically hear the lecture that the boy was gearing up to give his cousin’s unruly first disciple, he almost pitied Xue Yang for the lecture he was bound to receive.
“How dar- I never- I have a-” the man spluttered, turning such an alarmingly distinct shade of scarlet that he couldn't help but absently wonder how long it would take before said man fainted, he didn't unfortunately.
“What my cousin meant was simply are you sure that you can get all of us in,” Jin Zixuan stepped in, running a prompt damage control before his cousin could do even more damage while sending said cousin a scathing look from the corner of his eye which made him shut up.
“I have no doubt in the ability of those I and the Third Young Master Wen personally trained.” He said, keeping his face and tone neutral, he couldn’t rise to the bait. "And need I remind you who trained me in war tactics?" That instantly silenced everyone, as they seemingly recalled the information he'd shared not long before Wen Xu had been killed.
This was hardly the worst thing that had been said to him or the other Wens over the course of the war. Hell, even before the war there was bad blood between the Wens and other sects, his uncle wasn't exactly the most agreeable person and was content on burning bridges (before eventually leveling up to sects).
Every possible insult and action against them had been heard and taken, from insults to their bloodline, death threats, promises of torture, attempts at abandoning wounded Wens, sabotage to their gear, attempts at assault and harassment of female cultivators, everything had been done. He wasn’t about to let one measly insult about trust from a man with more grease than an oil candle and as much loyalty as a snake derail all his and his sect mates’ hard work. They’d given up too much for him to throw it away to avenge his pride, he’d mention it to his cousin, after all, stray arrows or corpses were bound to happen in war. Hell, he'd survived Wen fucking Ruohan he'd be damned if he let some asshole Jin in severe need of a reality check get under his skin when the Chief Cultivator had been unsuccessful.
“I have faith in Wen Qionglin’s assessment of his cultivator’s abilities,” Lan Xichen said and soon many more took his side, from the Sect Leader Jiang who echoed the sentiment to the Sect Leader Nie merely nodded in agreement.
“So it’s decided,” the Nie Sect Leader spoke. “We set out at dawn and soon Nightless City will be ours.”
—----------
He stood beside his mother and father, staring at the dark outer wall of Nightless City from the shadows, waiting.
The stones rose high into the sky, grey leeching into black and flecked with lichen, making an ugly scar across the sky. It loomed with an ominous challenge, giving him the same sense of do or die, kill or be killed that the city always seemed to whenever he visited. One of the Wens put it best, "Opportunity, like moments come but once." They'd said to those dressed in black, "A good leader would never need to hide away in such a manner."
“Whatever happens today, know I’m proud of you.” His father’s hand rested on his shoulder and he forced his eyes not to well up with tears. Now was not the time. He needed to be strong.
“Quit being so emotional, we’re all going to make it out alive.” His mother scoffed, ever aloof from her emotions aside from anger, from her left and right Jinzhu and Yinzhu nodded as if promising their survival.
“Of course, My Lady, A-Li would kill us all over again if we missed her wedding.” His father smiled before turning to watch for the flares that would signal their troops to move.
—------------
“We’ll need light, fast-moving troops to hide within the treelines and emerge when we make the break,” Wen Qionglin explained, expertly moving pieces around the map of Nightless City. It was hard to believe this was the shy, stuttering boy he’d gone drinking with at Cloud Recesses what felt like ages ago. He spoke strategy and statistics like he was reciting something so basic and juvenile that it was kind of concerning. Just how long had Wen Ruohan been teaching this boy to lead an army and fight a war? It seemed so ingrained in the Wen that his own tactical brilliance didn't even seem to occur to him any more than his nose did to his eyes.
“Why is that?” his father asked, keeping his voice light so as not to seem like he was trying to undermine the plan. Every war meeting was like this, someone would propose a plan and then people would undermine it, not with solutions but simply by pointing out everything wrong with the plan no matter how minor, and ignoring everything right no matter how major. It was infuriating and on more than one occasion he had had half a mind to just take his troops and go on his own, something his father said was suicidal both physically and politically.
“I’ve been in contact with a few sources who say there are more guards along the outer wall of the city nowadays which will require more troops to eliminate.” Lan Xichen said, “I’d imagine Gui Jiangjun heard the same from his sources.”
“Yes that is part of the reason, however, that also means there will be more people looking for an approaching army, the more cultivators that arrive at the gates the more likely we are to be spotted.” Wen Qionglin explained, ever patient despite the countless questions and dismissals he’d received already. even though the meeting hadn't even been in session for as long as an hour yet
“If we wish to surprise Nightless City they shouldn't be able to see us from three days away,” the peacock nodded and he hated that the stuffy boy was right (though he’d never admit he found the boy more tolerably nowadays after punching him the golden child seemed to finally have jumped off his high horse and he respected him for speaking up in Xuanwu cave too).
“That still leaves who should do this,” Sect Leader Guo said.
“We will,” he spoke when he saw his mother incline her head slightly.
“The Jiang Sect is renowned for their quick swords and has experience fighting as a larger unit on varied terrain,” Nie Mingjue nodded. “Though I believe you should take a few minor sects with you.”
“And Wens as well as local knowledge never hurts,” Wen Qionglin nodded his agreement. “Thank you, Young Master Jiang, Madam Yu, Sect Leader Jiang, you may pick which of our cultivators will accompany and assist you.”
—--------------
“Most of the cultivators I brought with me are skilled archers and decent in the sword, where do you want us?” he asked. Silently he cursed his father for not helping in the campaign, what the Wens under Wen Ruohan were doing was unforgivable. However, he had an immense amount of respect for both Nie Mingjue and Wen Qionglin, the former for being willing to work with those who had killed his father, the latter for doing what was right at the risk of being tortured and executed alongside his family for treason should the Sunshot Campaign fail. Even the Wens had more honor than those in his family, it was a line he often used when lecturing his unruly and bratty cousins to behave, knowing that it was the only way to get them to shut up, though. Jin Zixun was the worst of the lot.
He tried to ignore the look the Jiang heir was shooting him, he was still not in the good graces of his fiancee’s brother it seemed, which was understandable he guessed. Hopefully, after all this was over they’d be able to put their differences aside, though he would’ve punched his younger self too if given the chance so he couldn't begrudge him for doing so in the Cloud Recesses. Especially now that he knew and saw just how incredible his fiancee truly was, the way she organized the healers, supplies, and cooks was truly masterful. She would make a great Madam Jin in the future and not to mention he had fallen madly in love with her much to the Jiang heir's chagrin.
“How good are they at climbing?” Wen Qionglin asked not even looking up from the map as he made half-aborted hand gestures as he ran through his plan mentally. "And any preferences for stone or trees?"
He tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice, “What?”
—-----------
He took a deep breath and glanced at those beside him, all of whom looked to be putting on a brave face in a valiant attempt to hide their nerves.
They only got one chance at this, they couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, that was something that was drilled in constantly throughout the meeting.
“Feeling ready?” Mianmian offered him a small amused smile from the tree she crouched in a few paces away from him, her bow slung around her back so as not to make the grip sweaty until it came time to shoot.
“As I’ll ever be,” he admitted, trying to ignore the way his stomach churned and his hands felt sweaty around the bow in his grip.
“At least we aren’t climbing the walls,” she offered with a small lopsided grin.
“This isn’t much better, at least then we wouldn’t be shooting through all this..." he gestured at the leaves that blocked their view of the outer walls, "foliage.”
“We won’t be, soon enough.”
—----------
“The Lans will be going with the Nies I’d presume?” he asked, their numbers weren’t particularly great and their style was most similar to the Nies. He didn't voice it but he had to Mingjue in private, but he wanted to be near them should there be any Qi deviations during or after the fight.
“How many are there again?” Came the immediate question.
“A few hundred, probably two or three perhaps a bit more. But we are uncertain of exact numbers as of right now due to injuries and deaths,” his brother said and he silently thanked the ancestors at least one of them could hold themselves together externally when they spoke of how few of them there were left.
“How many have a spiritual tool other than a sword such as a Guqin or Dizi?” Wen Qionglin asked, tilting his head as if running the calculations as they spoke.
“Just as many,” his brother’s answer was calm and collected. All their disciples had been trained in musical cultivation, it was one of the points of pride of their sect and after this war, he’d put even more emphasis on it as a sect leader, the sword alone was not enough in times of war.
“I think it would be good to go with the Nies but you may need to split to help hold back the corpses once we get inside Nightless City and closer to the Fire Palace now that we’re much closer to Wen Ruohan and the Yin Iron and we aren’t sure how much we can rely on Jianguiyi-Jun to hold them all back.”
“Mm.”
“Understood.”
—-------------
“It’ll be okay,” a deep voice said from beside him.
“I know but I can’t help but worry.” He couldn't help but sigh.
“About?” Nie Mingjue prompted him, waiting patiently until he finally answered.
“Wangji, if Wen Wuxian doesn’t appear I worry for him, he’s so convinced the boy is alive.” The confirmation from Wen Qionglin during the meeting had made his brother even more assured of the knowledge.
“He is, not only did Wen Qionglin confirm it in the meeting but Huaisang and I received a letter before his death telling us he’d fake it.”
“Wangji and Uncle did too but I’m worried something happened to him between then and now or that he’ll come back only for him to die in front of Wangji.” There, he said it, it wasn't that he believed his brother or Wen Qionglin to be lying it was the fear that Wangji's hopes would finally be crushed by watching the boy he loves die right in front of him.
“The boy is too powerful for that,” Nie Mingjue squeezed his hand, a rare comforting gesture from the usually reserved Nie.
“I know but I still worry,” he sighed staring at the ground for a brief moment before turning to look up at his love, he needed to propose after all of this he thought belatedly.
“Your spy will be fine too, after all, he survived Wen Ruohan, he can survive a war.” The Nie paused for a second before continuing, “And it isn’t like he’s about to march up to the gates of Nightless City.”
“True,” he sighed.
Nie Mingjue raised his hand and kissed the back of it before offering it a slight squeeze, "It will all be fine Xichen."
—-----------
“Xue Yang knows the ins and outs of the city best, he’ll be the one who gets the first contingent of cultivators in and take down the guards on the inside of the outer gates to open them,” Wen Ning said. He tried to hide his smug expression at the recognition and more specifically, the horrified recognition of the Chang Clan when they looked at him, seemingly seeing him for the first time. He’d get his revenge later but for now, he needed to play his part.
“And who is going with him?” the Nie Sect Leader asked, having simply nodded in acknowledgment, offering no protest to his assignment.
“The passage is pretty small, it’s why they haven’t bothered fixing it, hell I don't know if anyone has even noticed it but I need smaller cultivators, so probably no Nies.” He shrugged with a small grin tugging the side of his face. “I could take all Wens as we are least likely to be noticed but I’m sure someone would have a problem with it.”
“I’ll go with him,” a Lan disciple offered and that seemingly was deemed enough for all the other cultivators present, especially when a few other minor sect disciples mentioned they’d go as well.
—---------------
He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, all the other cultivators had been able to go to bed early in preparation for their departure a few hours before down so they’d be able to get to the secret entrance and make their way to the main gate without being noticed. He’d been waiting for the very last correspondence from Wen Wuxian, something that Wen Ning had gone in person to get. The man had ordered him to stay and sleep and he’d wake him when he got back but he found himself unable to sleep until he got confirmation that the Third Young Master Wen was ready.
“Ready?” he asked, all the Wens and the three minor clan disciples nodded but the Lan looked ready to be sick. Su something if he remembered correctly, he honestly regretted letting the boy come along, he was of weak cultivation and the only thing weaker than that was his stomach, considering the boy had come close to puking on more than one occasion already from nerves. Wen Ning had also informed him that this Lan was the idiotic disciple from the waterborne abyss that had lost his sword in Biling Lake. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy got killed early on in this invasion due to his overestimations of his abilities, but he was still getting over the shock that such an unaware disciple had managed to survive this long in the war.
Taking a deep breath he began to remove the talismans that hid the entrance from discovery amongst the shrubs, careful not to spring any of the carefully laid spiritual traps.
—-----------
He had to admit, he hadn't originally understood what his baby brother had meant when he said looking at Wen Qionglin was like looking in the mirror but now that he'd spent time with the man he realized just how right his brother was, as always.
If he was being entirely honest the stories he'd heard of the Ghost General did not match the commander, a man who easily manipulated the battlefield with a mind well-versed in combat and strategies. He'd heard countless tales of unassuming first impressions, his disciples reported he was meek but good with archery, he remembered the boy winning a competition in the latest cultivation conference for it, even his brother had mentioned the boy's stutter which seldom made an appearance if ever. Yet Nie Huaisang had been insistent there was more to the ghost general than met the eye and as the war had progressed he'd seen why. The boy had gone from shy and easily flustered and soft-spoken (according to many) to a captain who was incredibly capable to a general who managed to adapt to even the most unusual circumstances, including their friendly neighborhood mystery demonic flute-playing cultivator and took shit from no one.
Combined with the maps from Xichen’s spy he was more certain than ever that they could win this war.
“So who is going to be waiting outside of the gates?” he asked.
“You are, your cultivation style is fueled the more you fight is it not? You’re also the most equipped to make the march through the city, I understand the Nie Sect is the only other Sect to have mountain treks as part of their training, are they not?” Wen Qionglin said calmly, once more proving Nie Huaisang right, not that he'd ever admit that to his baby brother.
“That is correct,” he tried not to immediately jump to the conclusion the boy knew this from spying, after all a good number of Wens had become good friends to many of his cultivators, hell he was pretty sure he'd seen flirting between some of them, unsurprisingly fighting side by side tended to create bonds between the most unlikely people.
Then Wen Qionglin looked at him for a moment, eyes boring into him in a way that made him feel exposed and he had to resist the urge to reach for Baxia but the ghost general merely nodded to himself silently before asking “Would you be willing to take my non-archers and non-healers?”
That was a question he had not been expecting, it was a huge show of trust, to be put in charge of the rest of the Wens. They seldom fought under anyone other than Wen Qionglin, most of the time they were made into smaller groups, led by and maintained by themselves, and scattered amongst the fronts. He was the first person to be offered directly to lead the Wens who wasn't himself a Wen, and considering his reputation for hating Wens, well at this point just Wen Ruohan if he'd been completely honest, it was an immense honor and display of trust.
“Yes,” was all the response he managed to get out without stumbling over his words. That earned him a nod and he was glad a more elaborate answer wasn’t expected of him.
—---------
With Xichen on his left, Zhonghui on his right, and a mix of Lans, Nies, and Wens behind him he took a breath and began to make his way towards the gates, leading his troops towards the end of the Sunshot Campaign.
Baxia hummed at the thought of what was to come, practically vibrating out of his hand with energy.
“Soon” he silently promised her, “you will have your chance soon.”
—---------
Today was the day.
It didn't feel different than any other but after this, nothing would ever be the same in Qishan.
Word had come from Wen Wuxain through the bronze mirror for the last time.
After today they’d either be celebrating together or at least one of them would be dead.
Honestly, she was lucky she wasn’t already dead.
When the news came in on the front that her brother was the infamous Ghost General, the man responsible for so many of the defeats, her uncle interrogated her for hours.
Eventually, she’d managed to convince Wen Ruohan that she considered her little brother to be weak and the betrayal of his sect to be a failure on his part. A failure on her part for how she had raised him, how she had been unable to instill a sense of loyalty in the boy. (She actually had instilled a sense of loyalty, one that ran so deep it transcended death, yet this loyalty was to Wen Wuxian and the Dafan Wens, not her uncle).
She’d spun an elaborate tale of how the loss of his best friend likely drove him mad, not missing the way that her uncle still looked grief-stricken at the mention of the death of his Youngest Son, if only momentarily before the rage of the Yin iron began to cloud his mind once more. It hurt to speak of her baby brother in such a way but she knew it was necessary to ensure her ability to continue to aid in spying for the war effort and Wen Wuxian's plans. She tried weakening her uncle but she'd quickly learned it caused his temper to worsen so she tried to hold his shattered mind together as best she could and wait for the troops to march on the Fire Palace.
Now she prepared her needles with a rare, clear, and scentless herbal poison, she wouldn’t be able to get close to her uncle until he was distracted, at least not without risking her head, so she could bide her time.
Meng Yao seemed to be in a similarly preoccupied state since their last communication with Wen Wuxian, he had his sword and orders to not hesitate should the opportunity present itself, Wen Wuxian was uninterested in the glory of the patricide of his father. His sole interest was in the safety of the innocent and the ending this war as swiftly as possible, after all, it had already raged for just over a year.
She could only hope that opportunity would be sooner rather than later.
—-----------
He rose early as he always did and took a mental account of everything to be done, both for and against the man he had begun to call master for the sake of the Lan and Wen Disciple he’d met in the woods what seemed to be forever ago.
Shaking his head he dressed himself, dawning the black under robes he would strip down to when the time came before covering them with red under robes, folding the edges of the red robes over the black ones in case his robes shifted to avoid the black from being exposed and giving him away and then the white outer robes of Wen Ruohan’s Wens.
Plastering a smile on his face he made his way to the dungeons, there were certain prisoners whose help would be needed.
No one would question him, he was Wen Ruohan's chief torturer after all, all he needed to do if questioned is smile in a manner that didn't reach his eyes and ask if someone dare go against the great and oh-so-wonderful Sect Leader Wen, they'd pale and deny it hastily and he would be free to carry on.
The plan was now in motion.
—-----------
Someone finally asked the question that he was sure had been on almost everyone’s minds since he had begun to lay out this plan almost two hours ago, “how many are we going to lose?”
Wen Fengge sighed deeply and stepped forward from where he stood on his right, “There are better and worse versions of loss.”
He waved his hand at the map laid out on the table in front of them “We are aiming for the better version because then we have the strongest base possible for rebuilding, and not just for the new Wens but also all of you. That is our victory, it is the only one on the table, and it is a painful, sad, and desperately awful form of success. This is war, we may lose hundreds of thousands… whatever happens, however much we win, it will always be measured by how many more people we could have lost than how many we did, how much worse it could have been. I'm sorry the news is that bleak. But, there you have it.”
“And this is the best idea you have?” Sect Leader Yao said, almost sneering at them.
“Yes, actually, it is. This entire plan revolves around still enabling the largest number of cultivators to escape should things turn bad. Do you think my Uncle will show mercy after this? No, if we fail tomorrow, if we do not succeed, all of us, and I do mean all. Every single one of us will be executed, our families tortured, and your sects absorbed under my Uncle’s rule where he will take out his rage on the very people you have sworn to protect. If you think what he’s done in the broad daylight of war is atrocious you should see what he does in the shadows of the dungeons that lay beneath his palace.” He spoke this time, suppressing the urge to pinch his brow and relieve the headache that was beginning to form because it wasn't good for this already strenuous diplomatic relationship. Maybe the Yao Sect would end up with a new sect leader after this battle, he tried not to be too optimistic.
“You seem so skeptical of your own plan,” came the accusing tone once more, clearly the man hadn’t picked up on anything else he'd said.
“How do you plan on defeating the Yin Iron, Sect Leader Yao?” he asked lightly, if he couldn’t tell them flat out then he’d guide them to the conclusion, lay the plan out for them piece by piece until their glory hungry brains could wrap their grubby little mitts around the concept.
“W-Why with Jianguiyi-Jun of course!” the man scoffed “He’s handled Wen Ruohan before!”
“You seem very confident in the abilities of a man of which you have never met, and may I remind you that well Jianguiyi-Jun is powerful we are, first and foremost, weighing our victory on one man, but secondarily a man who is yet to face Wen Ruohan head on when he is over the shortest distance and thus the most powerful.” He had full confidence in his cousin but he knew the boy would feel eternally guilty should something happen and people were trapped in the city should Wen Ruohan do something crazy like set the city on fire or, in the almost impossible likelihood, that Wen Ruohan was able to defeat Wen Wuxian. Personally, he hoped Sect Leader Yao and Jin Zixuan's cousin wouldn't make it out should something like that happen but he knew he wouldn't be that lucky as he was somehow fighting a war where both sides seemed to hate his guts.
The other Sect Leaders, who seemed deeply rattled by this information, quickly became much more agreeable and willing to follow the plans he proposed, after all, he knew the City best.
—-----------
He took a deep breath and mentally went over the plan in his head, he and the other archers from the Wen Sect would be doing what the Jin Archers could not and he knew the price that could be paid. The defenses had likely increased since he’d left and they’d be lucky if only fire, poison, and wind talismans and archers remained. He really just hoped there wouldn't be exploding talismans, those were powerful enough to take out two to three climbers per blast based on spacing. They could be devastating, however, the wall would likely still fall should that be the case.
But he really would prefer to; a, survive this war and b, survive with all his limbs still attached and fully functioning if possible.
Hopefully, the Jins and Xue Yang's group would be enough to keep the guards distracted from the cultivators robed in black climbing the walls of the city they’d once called home.
—----------
He’d been placed with the rest of the Lans so that when it came time to play he’d be able to lead half of his sect mates and his brother would remain in command of the other half, which of them was to do what would depend on who was actively engaged with someone at the time the signal came.
Yet as the moment the gates would fall drew nearer he couldn’t fully focus on the task at hand.
He’d see Wen Ying today.
He’d see him for the first time since his brothers died and all so everyone could kill his father.
As eager as he was to see his friend again (and reluctantly return the ribbon which he had kept safe all this time) he couldn’t help the fear that gnawed at him.
Would Wen Ying be okay? He would have lost all of his immediate family in the span of less than a year, being present for one of them. He couldn't imagine that, he'd thought he'd lost his brother when his home burned but losing two, and having undeniable proof along with having to kill your own father? He couldn't (and didn't really want to) imagine it.
He’d also seen the Wens as they mourned those they’d slain with their own hands, the friends and family that they fought against in every battle and he only recently came to understand exactly how many people Wen Ying could’ve lost during this war, he had friends and family on both sides after all, he'd seen the list Wen Qionglin had compiled of people who would need burials, it seemed endless. Whole branches of the family were wiped out, he'd seen the notes of how many of each family were left should they wish to have the plaques delivered to them after the war. Hell, even some of the civilian towns they'd come across had bodies stacked high, murdered by Wens to add to the army of corpses. It was truly monstrous, yet the Wens in black seemed to take each town as a solemn reminder, a promise of their fates should they fail.
It haunted him.
Would his friend forgive him for those he’d killed? The faces now haunted him, well more so the fact he couldn't remember any of them, that there had been so many they'd all blurred together. He hadn't viewed Wen Ruohan's cultivators as human, it made them easier to kill but now he was left to ponder what lives he'd cut short, who had family being held in the dungeons of the Fire Palace in order to force them to fight in this hellish war they were about to end.
Now he was glad he hadn't been the one to strike down Wen Xu, he wasn’t sure Wen Ying, even with all his kindness and good would be able to forgive him if he had killed his eldest brother, something he wouldn’t be able to begrudge his friend for either.
Wen Qionglin had informed everyone that Wen Wuxian had been aiding them throughout the war during the meeting, it had been the last thing he’d mentioned. Based on that he assumed it meant the Wens had been planning Wen Wuxian's reappearance to the cultivation world and didn’t want anyone to attempt to kill him right when he got back. The shock in people’s expressions and the lack of surprise in others told him who had known and who hadn’t. It did explain the actions of many now that he had this information.
He saw the first signal and he quickly shoved the thoughts from his mind, this was their first and last chance.
He couldn’t afford any distractions.
—---------
“See! I knew you could do it!” he laughed brightly as his cousin blushed and continued to try and deny all his achievements. "I mean look at us! The Pure Demon and the Ghost General!” he couldn’t help the resurgence of laughter at the thought, when he finally reemerged as they’d planned he doubted he’d still be considered pure. His core wouldn’t be a secret, or even if it was he’d still be a former demonic cultivator in the eyes of the cultivation world, a reputation forever tainted. It was the price to pay for victory.
His cousin shook his head with a fond smile before turning the talk back to what was at hand, “so you’ve managed to harness it safely?”
“Yep!” he produced the dark flower from his robes, it looked innocent and ethereal with the moonlight reflecting off its intricate designs, though it was far from it.
“It doesn’t…” his cousin squinted at it, as if unable to believe what his senses were telling him.
“I was shocked too, but guess what! I can’t even hear the voices when it’s near me! I’m not sure if it’s permanent or if I need to be within a certain range since I haven’t been able to leave it as you can imagine.” He shrugged with a wolfish grin, he was quite proud of the silence he now experienced, he could finally hear his own thoughts (and he was immensely pleased when he could still hear the dead if he actively tried to as the silence could occasionally be unsettling especially after so long without it).
After a brief pause, Wen Ning met his eyes and said “Sister is going to want to check on you after this you know.”
“I know, I know, but hopefully, this is good news.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but here’s the new list.” He gently took the scroll and scanned the names, each was a cultivator who had died since they’d last spoken who needed rights performed, and possibly their soul needed to be aided in moving on. He did his best as he moved behind the army to play the souls to rest but with his hiatus to reform the Yin Iron he was far behind.
“Wen X… you included my brother?”
“I've included people from both sides who we haven't performed rights for yet... I have his sword, he hesitated. In his last moments before Sect Leader Nie… well you know. I thought that maybe you’d want to know.”
“He hesitated?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his da-ge had never hesitated. It was part of what made him so deadly and near impossible to defeat in a duel or any form of combat really. He and Fengxin had been one, a perfect pair moving in unison to levy destruction on all that went against them.
“He was fighting the Second Young Master Lan and when he sent him into a corpse he didn’t take the final blow. He could’ve killed Lan Wangji but he didn’t.”
“Why?” he was mostly speaking to himself when he asked the question, wondering out loud, he also figured Wen Ning wouldn’t be able to tell him but any information would be helpful.
“He… I’m not sure but I, uh, I think he saw your mother’s ribbon,” his cousin said meekly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves and staring at the ground, looking so unlike the ghost general painted in the gossip of the common people. It was both endearing and a startling reminder of just how young his cousin was, how young he was, how young so many who lived and died in this war.
His blood ran cold, did Lan Wangji know? Had he figured out the level of protection the ribbon offered or the meaning behind it? “What? How?”
“Lan Wangji cut his sleeve off to escape a corpse, your bright red ribbon was hard to miss against the white and light blue Lan robes.”
“I see.” His elder brother… “He’ll get the same rights as Fuqin and Wen Chao.”
“You’re…”
“They’re still my family, I’m not going to refuse their souls rest.... they'll also still be buried in the family graves.”
—---------------
He watched the gates fall and quickly made his way up onto the wall, being sure to hide in the shadows of the various sculptures that decorated it.
With a calming breath, he lifted Chenqing to his lips, letting the first notes fall.
Notes:
hope the shifting povs didn't confuse anyone
also this is now my longest work :)
Chapter Text
They’d made it through the passage and into the city without incident, emerging in the cellar of the apothecary owned and solely entered by Wen Qing to prevent someone from accidentally stumbling across such a secret. He pushed open the hatch in the bottom of the cellar then the passage between the cellar and the ground floor, pulling his companions up as they emerged, crowding the small building once everyone was finally up.
“Alright, you.” He pointed at the four non-Wens that had accompanied him, “Pick a cultivator and follow them, we need to get to the wall and start taking out the guards, as many as we can. The Jins will be launching arrows so stay alert and most importantly get that damn gate open.”
That earned him nods from the cultivators and they each slid slightly closer to the cultivator they would be following, there were twenty of them in all as too many people would draw suspicion. Su She, much to his annoyance, sidled closer to him and he barely managed to suppress the groan and eye roll, he’d ditch the boy if he didn’t manage to get himself killed in the first few minutes.
He caught the gaze of Wen Xiu and he could see the sympathy in her eyes at his situation but they didn't have the time to dwell on such frivolous matters. Pushing open the door quietly he slid out and checked the perimeter, giving three knocks the windows opened and cultivators began to slink off into the shadows and soft purple of the early morning hours, each forging their own separate paths to the wall.
It was a good thing Su She was wearing more white than blue so maybe he could pass as a Wen he figured as they slunk through the streets. Well… he moved through the shadows with a silent practiced ease and Su She tripped over a chamber pot a few streets back which nearly gave them away but clearly someone thought it was the local cat based on the grunt followed by silence. The boy looked indignant and mortified at the same time while he was unsure whether to laugh or gag at the smell that now followed them through the city, Su Shit he laughed internally.
He’d made his way up the wall, having to pull Su Shit up by the back of his robes due to the boy's apparent inability to pull his own weight up over the final set of stone rails and onto the walkway built on top of the wall for patrol.
“Follow me,” he hissed quietly. The Lan scowled at him but nodded, looking a bit petulant at having to follow him around and apparently still upset about his embarrassing moment earlier that’s evidence clung to the hem of his robes.
He didn’t want to bring the bumbling idiot towards the gates, but he didn’t have faith in the overgrown child’s ability to dispatch any cultivator considered worthy of the guard position so here he was. Playing babysitter while performing one of the most important parts of this invasion; getting the invaders into the city so they could, y’know, actually invade shit.
He carefully sidestepped one of the many talismans that were laid out all along the walkway for this exact reason, this one was a poisoning talisman that he recognized. Anyone who triggered it would be dead in an hour unless given the antidote, the only reason there was an antidote was due to the idiocy of some of the rookie guards who forgot to watch their steps and occasionally activated them.
Su Shit mirrored his movements.
That’s when they ran into the first guard.
He’d placed a hand over the man’s mouth as he slit his throat in one smooth and clean movement, he never felt a thing.
He didn’t look at the face knowing he’d likely recognize whoever it was and he couldn’t afford to be distracted right now.
It was a good thing he had because this man apparently had a partner with him, his partner drew their sword and charged, swinging wildly. He threw a silencing talisman and then braced for the hit. It was more important that the alarm wasn’t raised than him avoiding some inconvenient minor injuries.
He stepped back a few paces, knocking into Su She who went tumbling back with a shout.
He then, ignoring the Lan, pulled a dagger from the sleeve of the hand that held his sword and stabbed it into the eye of the second guard, killing him in seconds as the blade penetrated deep into the man’s head.
Turning back he found Su She on the ground, right where the poison talisman was.
“What was the talisman for?” the boy asked before Xue Yang could reprimand him for giving them away.
“Must’ve been a dud,” he shrugged and smiled sharply, oh Karma was almost as sweet as his candies, the fool who’d almost blown the war would be dead within the hour.
All around them, the alarms began to sound.
“Best of luck,” he smiled and tore off towards the gate as arrows began to rain down from Jins and Wens alike based on the different colored feathers on the shafts and more Wens swarmed the walkway.
He fought through the few who still stood between him and the gates, Wen Ning and the other Wens had launched their grappling arrows and were now beginning to crest the wall to aid him and the small group he’d brought with him even further with what the Jin arrows had missed.
He wasn’t sure how long it took but he met Wen Meilin and the disciple who had been following her at the gate.
With a nod she took her sword and began to hack at the talismans engraved in the path that protected the doors, the ones carved so deeply that it took several swings to begin to remove them.
Meanwhile, he floated down on Jiangzai, carefully but quickly painting on new talismans that he and Wen Wuxian had developed so long ago meant to blow the door off the hinges.
“GO!” he shouted at her as he floated up and away from the door and he’d only gotten a few meters away when the talismans went off, shaking the walls and resounding through the air.
With a groan, the doors shuddered under the force and fell to the ground.
Right at the feet of Nie Mingjue.
—------------------
Stepping into the walls of the fire palace felt surreal.
After so long, after so much fighting and immeasurable loss and sacrifice the end was now quite literally within sight. He almost wanted to cry at the thought, that he’d be able to go home and rebuild his sect, to finally propose to Mingjue and get married, to Wingman Wangji and get his didi and Wen Wuxian finally courting, so much hope and relief filled him even as he approached the source of all this pain and despair.
Yet as they crossed the threshold he realized something was off, something about the atmosphere seemed wrong.
There weren’t many living cultivators still serving Wen Ruohan, he knew that, but as they marched towards the steps of the palace he realized all those gathered before them were dead with the exception of maybe a few hundred. There were as many living Wens fighting for Wen Ruohan as there were Lans it seemed. Wen Qionglin had mentioned that over a third of the Wen Sect had defected and while many had died the majority were still alive so based on what he was seeing now the new Wens had the majority in their sect. Now all it came down to was getting rid of Wen Ruohan.
Across from the corpses swayed, groaning softly but not moving, almost as if they were in a trance.
He wasn’t sure who started it but one moment they were at a stalemate and the next they were charging one another, swords drawn and teeth bared respectively.
—-------------
The issue with fighting predominantly corpses, and more notably ones controlled by Yin iron which were seemingly stronger and more ferocious than your ordinary fierce corpse, was their unrelenting aggression. Dismemberment alone wouldn’t stop the armless and legless torsos from attempting to bite the ankles of all those who came near.
For every cultivator, the sun shot campaign lost the corpses and gained another member in their ranks, even when the living Wens were killed they had to be dismembered and beheaded in order for them to actually be considered officially down and out. It was utterly exhausting and incredibly traumatizing as he watched Nies fall and he found himself callously dismembering people he knew and had fought alongside for so long.
As he chopped down a Lan corpse with no visible external injuries but had a poison talisman attached to it, he felt someone shove him aside and suddenly an arrow was put through their chest.
Glancing over, chest still heaving he realized it was none other than Wen Zhuliu, dressed in black robes. He’d honestly forgotten about the core melting hand’s absence from Lotus Pier.
“Thank you,” he forced out as he cut another corpse down as it dove for the injured Wen.
The man snapped the arrow shaft, which was a notably better decision than ripping out, “Huian would never forgive me if something happened to her son.” was the curt response as the man returned his attention to the fight, his lack of familiarity with his sword apparent when his core melting ability reactivating every once in a while.
“You knew my mother?” he asked incredulously, cutting down a corpse and beheading a Wen in one clean motion as he found himself back to back with the man.
When they finally managed to split apart the man turned and stared at him like he’d grown a second head, voice as incredulous as he felt as the core melter explained. “She was my cousin.”
He didn’t get the chance to respond as the notes of a flute shattered the air with a deafening first few notes.
—------------
The first note of the dizi lingered in the air, causing the air to seemingly still, the few Wens robed in white seemed to freeze as they realized what such a sound meant.
“JIANGUIYI-JUN!”
“THE DEMON IS HERE!”
The sound of the flute had been absent from the past few engagements and clearly, the Wens, as well as some of the cultivators in the sun shot campaign, thought Jianguiyi-jun was no more. But clearly, upon the first sound of the Dizi’s haunting tune, they all seemingly realized what a grave error that assumption had been.
The hairs on the back of Lan Wangji’s neck stood up and cold seeped into his bones and he fought the urge to freeze and pull Wangji out to combat the resentful energy that was being called forth by the sound. Meanwhile, all around him, a cheer rose from the cultivators of the sunshot campaign, and some jeered at the living Wens in White who turned pale enough to match their robes.
As their swords clattered and the moans of the corpses seemed to accompany the song as a sort of harmony to the flute’s melody. He steeled his nerves as those around him mumbled how the haunting sound was the sound of victory, he knew the sound meant the corpses’ behaviors would turn even more horrendous as the two demonic cultivators would fight for control of the corpses.
Today the sun would fall.
His brief distraction had him turning around at a warning shout to find a corpse inches from him, he didn’t have time to lift Bichen but a flash of black appeared in front of him as those around him screamed.
—------------
He drew resentment up from the ground and from the living, from the people who had lost relatives to his father and his reign, who were angry and bitter and full of grief. He drew on the resentment of both the living and the dead and began to draw it into the fire palace.
Playing Chenqing he placed a command for the energy to follow him as he was not going to play this entire time, he needed his father to come out and the only way to do that was with curiosity. He laid the trap with the first tune and now he just needed the man to leave the fire palace and bring the Yin Iron with him. He knew the palace well enough to fight within the walls but the same could not be said for the cultivators of the sun shot campaign and he couldn’t risk abandoning them.
Lowering his flute he scanned the battlefield, he instantly spotted Lan Zhan, the blue sword glare hard to miss and he immediately noticed how his friend had become isolated from the group and was fighting alone.
He whistled a few notes and a mass of resentful energy coalesced in the rough size and shape of a man, floating into the light and slightly closer to the fire palace than he actually was. The shadow did not go unnoticed and people began to point and shout at the illusion he had made as he lept down into the fray.
Wrapping his Yin around him like a shield he moved across the field, just in time to block a corpse that had lunged at Lan Zhan, it was one of the many corpses that surrounded him but one of the few the Lan hadn't managed to notice in time. The corpse’s teeth sank into Chenqing but he knew it wouldn’t leave a mark, after all the flute was just as strong as Suibian in terms of durability. This was why people fought in trios or at least pairs he realized belatedly.
“Wen Ying,” came the voice, laced with exhaustion and a bit of shock and he smiled briefly before turning to meet the gaze of his friend.
“Hi Lan Zhan, long time no see.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the sheer relief in his friend's gaze, he was sure that look would vanish.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t dwell on their reunion as the corpses demanded their attention.
Whistling he began to turn the corpses on one another as he drew Suibian and began to cut a path back to the rest of the sects for his friend to take.
Slowly the corpses near him began to relent their attack on him and turn on their comrades.
As soon as the opportunity presented itself he sheathed Suibian and began to play Chenqing once more, demanding more and more corpses to break free of the command of the Yin Iron and fight for him.
That seemed to do it because no sooner had the corpses begun to attack one another did he hear his Father’s booming voice.
He lowered Chenqing slightly and turned to look up the steps of the palace, there stood his father sword drawn and facing the shadowy resentment he’d left as a stand-in.
“Wen Ying,” he turned to look at his friend and saw Lan Zhan’s golden eyes fixed on his Dizi. “You-”
It seemed his friend had finally put all the pieces together, and had solved the great mystery of where he’d been and who Jianguiyi-Jun was all in one go. But he didn’t get the chance to hear the rest of what his friend said because suddenly all around him the voices of the three Yin Iron Shards resounded.
Drawing Suibain once more he floated up and deposited himself on the wall once more, it was time to face his father.
“Jianguiyi-Jun, I’ve heard much about you.”
He wield the resentment to do a mock bow, taking great care to make it seem like there truly was a person masked by the resentful energy as he slowly inched closer and closer to the Fire palace and where his father stood at the top of the stairs.
“Who are you?” his father snarled, drawing FaHonghui (To issue forth great splendor) and sending it right into the chest of the resentful energy, or where the chest should’ve been.
Yet his sword did not meet flesh, rather the smoke dissipated.
Taking a deep breath he stepped into the light, raising his flute to his lips he made eye contact with his father and began to play.
“A-Ying,” His father sounded shattered. “No, who are you to dare wear my son’s face?!” the voice turned into a snarl as the resentful energy that poisoned his mind for so long finally clouded over all rational thought.
Calling to the Yin Iron his Fuqin sent forward a blast of resentful energy, intent on killing his last remaining son.
—----------
He’d heard Jianguiyi-Jun’s playing resume and suddenly the corpses around him turned their backs on him and began to fight the other corpses, slowly one by one they began to turn. He turned to Wen Ying, not willing or able to resist the urge to memorize the details of the boy’s face for just a selfish moment before they returned to battle.
Yet what he saw shocked him to the core.
Wen Ying was glaring at the corpses, eyes glowing a furious crimson, and at his lips was his black dizi, Chenqing, playing the haunting tune of Jianguiyi-Jun. Oh, the irony of its name, explaining one’s actions, it seemed Wen Ying had known it would come to this all along.
Yet before he could fully process what he’d just seen Wen Ruohan’s voice echoed over the courtyard, “Fools, the lot of you.”
Yet he didn’t have the strength to turn away from Wen Ying, eyes glued to the black Dizi that was oh so familiar. His friend lowered the flute at the sound of Wen Ruohan’s voice and he realized with no small amount of horror what his friend was going to do.
“Wen Ying,” his friend had been the demonic cultivator all these months. His friend had been the one to guard him in every battle though he hadn’t known it, his friend was the one everyone was counting on to defeat Wen Ruohan, to kill his own father. “You don’t have to do this….” He didn’t need to kill his father, to carry this burden alone, he would help. He would always help if Wen Ying needed it.
Yet his friend seemed not to hear his words, flying up to face Wen Ruohan, to face his father.
He couldn’t hear the exchange but suddenly Wen Ruohan was wielding resentful energy with the help of the Yin Iron and his friend had raised Chenqing once more.
He recognized the song on the first note alone, it had been one he’d taught the boy in the Cloud Recesses so long ago, it told the story of a man who left behind all he loved to die in a war he wished never to happen. It made his stomach drop and he quickly began to cut his way through the corpses who were now attacking anything and everything with no master controlling them.
He needed to get to Wen Ying.
All around him, the song grew frenzied, warping from a sorrowful tone to an angry one, each note cutting through the air and Lan Wangji felt the similarities to the song he had taught the boy but it was distinctly different. This was not like the snippets of songs he had caught Wen Ying humming to himself before he realized that Lan Wangji was there in the Library pavilion or any sing he’d ever heard.
It was darker, meant to control and tame. Resentful energy whipped up all around him as if magnetized by Wen Ying’s playing.
A maelstrom of pain and hatred commanded by him.
The man who stood facing Wen Ruohan was not his friend, it was Jianguiyi-Jun alone.
Notes:
I've got to travel in a few weeks so I'm trying to finish this story before I leave.
I'm doing my best to keep the quality of the story the same but I apologize if the chapters are shorter and the descriptions more vague.
Chapter 21: Dusk
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The second he heard the flute he instinctively raised his head in search of his cousin, he knew Wen Wuxian would still be hiding in the shadows yet he couldn’t resist the urge and check on his friend, to make sure he was okay. Or, at least okay as anyone could be after an entire war and right before they were expected to kill their father, but the sentiment still stood.
He saw the shadows shift and a silhouette emerges, it was something Wen Wuxian would do as a diversion in Night hunts from time to time so he did not follow it, rather he scanned along the crest of the wall, searching for the boy’s true location.
He didn’t need to search hard because after only a few moments his friend had descended from the wall and landed by Lan Wangji, he couldn’t focus on his friend for much longer as he needed to deal with the corpses and the last of his Uncle’s cultivators, all of whom were clearly turning more and more desperate.
He heard the flute resume and slowly the corpse’s actions slowed as if moving through deep water, like the air was pressing down on them and their limbs became too heavy to lift, slowly they began to turn, mauling those in white and red robes or one another. It was gruesome, especially the sounds that were released by both the dead, and soon-to-be.
He didn’t have too long to dwell on the sound as he heard his Uncle’s booming voice, echoing as it always seemed to whenever the man was struck by a fit of rage.
He watched as Wen Ruohan drew FaHonghui, It was rare for him to use his sword rather than the Yin Irron but his reasoning became clear as the man sent the sword into the resentment figure his son had conjured.
As the smoke dissipated and his cousin emerged he forced his aching limbs to move, his lungs were burning from the dust and his mouth tasted of copper yet he knew there was no time to rest.
Mustering what was left of his voice he shouted to the Wens around him, “To Wuxian!”
Immediately he watched heads raise and eyes search, fixing on the boy who would soon be the leader of their sect.
With a renewed vigor he and those of his sect began to make their way towards the steps of the Fire Palace.
They would make it there, they would aid Wen Wuxian in whatever way they could.
It was only a matter of time.
—----------
The instant Wen Ruohan’s voice echoed over the battlefield he felt a surge of adrenaline flood his veins, Baxia howled for the blood of the man who killed his father, for justice long overdue. And who was he to deny her?
He swung his saber like a scythe, severing limbs like a farmer would his crops during the harvest.
His mind went blank.
He would kill the man who had caused his family so much suffering, so much pain, or he would die trying.
Yet he was momentarily broken from his reverie as he reached the steps of the Fire Palace, he heard a shout, a name, Wuxian.
Glancing up he realized there was now a man in front of the one he was about to kill.
A man with a ribbon as red as freshly spilled blood, dressed in black with a flute darker than the night sky raised to his lips.
He squinted and cursed to himself as he made the realization, as the pieces all fell into place.
“So that’s where you’ve been Wen Wuxian,” he muttered to himself as he began to climb the stairs, one agonizingly slow step at a time, carefully shielding his head from arrows and cutting down the guards that now stood between him and the last two members of the Wen Clan’s main family.
—----------
“To Wuxian!”
The instant he heard the cry his head shot up and he felt his stomach and heart drop.
Wen Wuxian was alive, yes, but would he remain so was now the question.
He saw the first blast of resentful energy be thrown by Wen Ruohan via the Yin Iron and he heard the Dizi resume, glancing around the battlefield he searched for his brother.
He needed Wangji to be safe, his baby brother might go into shock to have such a revelation and also be frozen at the realization the one he loved was now attempting to single-handedly take on the most powerful man in the cultivation world, the man who had started this whole war.
As he scanned the field, checking every patch of white or blue he felt his heartache.
No, he refused to accept the thoughts that pushed into his mind, his brother couldn’t be dead.
He was getting increasingly frantic with each second that past, scanning the field even as he cut down corpses and cultivators alike, he felt he could finally breathe again when he saw the familiar and distinct glare of Bichen.
There was his brother.
Yet that feeling of relief vanished in an instant as he realized where his baby brother was.
He was at the base of the steps, only a short distance behind his love who was steadily fighting his way up through a hail of arrows and a small army of guards.
He couldn't lose both of them.
Not like this.
Not to Wen Ruohan.
Not so close to the end.
He floated up into the air on his sword and pulled out Libing, with a deep breath he began to try and suppress the corpses, with shaking hands and an aching chest he began to play.
—-------------
All around him, corpses began to fall, tumbling to the ground like puppets cut from their strings.
He stepped over them, the hem of his purple robes stained to a sickly-looking brownish gray with blood and corpse powder.
“HEADS!” someone screamed from behind him and he quickly covered his eyes just as an explosion talisman went sailing overhead and limbs, heads, and guts went flying.
The severed remains of a still twitching hand landed in front of him with a dull thump and he felt himself gag a little as the fingers spasmed one last time before finally going still as he stepped over it.
Better than a head at least.
Above him the Lans floated up to join Zewu-Jun, the wind ripped through the courtyard, making the songs nearly impossible to hear, yet he didn't need to hear a melody to know the Lans were cleansing the corpses so they may not rise again.
He didn’t think it was likely though, high above him he could see dark smoky clouds forming, wrapping themselves around the two demonic cultivators that now battled for control of one another. Wen Ruohan’s interest was in Wen Wuxian, or he guessed he should say Jianguiyi-Jun, alone.
“That Wen Wuxian can sure put up a fight,” his father panted from beside him.
“He’s not the only one,” his mother snarked, Zidian ripping through the few remaining living Wens in reach, the vast majority of them were remaining close to the base of the fire palace, likely so they could attempt to retreat and shelter within the walls of the building.
“Indeed my Lady, you’re formidable as ever.”
He stabbed the Wen in front of him with extra vigor, of course, his parents needed a fucking war to start getting along again.
—------------
He stood his ground as he played, months of playing for hours on end through battles made it so it was no struggle to continue playing, physically at least.
All around him, resentment stirred, voices howled, begging and pleading to people unknown in languages forgotten. He watched his father’s face twisted with anger and frustration, watched the sorrow appear in his eyes whenever their gazes met only to disappear all over again as the Yin Iron took back control.
He wasn’t sure how much of his father remained after so long being poisoned by such an unrelenting and resentful object but the hope seared into his heart like the branding iron his brother had out into his chest during their very last interaction.
He fought to keep his eyes from welling with tears at the thought of what was to come, he needed to do this, but could he?
Yet he couldn't dwell on it long before the Yin Iron recaptured his attention, the power of the three shards punching into him full force.
He needed to bring out BaYi (hope for tomorrow). The Yin Iron flower didn’t interact with yin in any form unless it was out of the folds of his robes, he’d need to make it a tassel he had decided but he hadn’t had the time.
That meant he had two options.
One, he could stop playing and hope to pull the spiritual tool from his robes while hoping that simply whistling the ancient song would be enough to hold the three shards of yin iron off.
Which in his opinion was a death sentence.
Or two, his father would get distracted in some way that would allow him to pull the ace from his sleeve.
Just as he was about to start whistling he saw a green-grey blur lunge at his father, Nie Mingjue he realized.
His father turned, using the Yin iron to throw both the Nie Sect Leader and Lan Zhan back down the steps.
He didn’t have the chance to focus on fearing for his friend.
In an instant, Bayi was free of his robes and he began to play once more with a renewed fervor.
His father turned back to him but he didn’t meet the gaze of the man who raised him, rather he met the gaze of a woman standing in the doorway of the fire palace, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he played a song so ancient it’s name and words had been lost to time.
There, in the heart of Nightless City, on the steps of the palace in which he had been raised, he played to his shard of Yin Iron and to the place that had made him.
Standing across from his father and fighting against the other three shards as tears streamed down his face he played the song of his core.
The song of the burial mounds.
—--------
The Yin Iron howled.
His shards refused to obey him no matter how hard he forced his will into them.
Whatever song the face stealer was playing it was an ancient power that not even the Yin iron could match, at least not without the other two shards.
Screwing up his face in concentration he raised his sword, if the Yin Iron wouldn't finish this, he would, no matter how much it pained him to take a swing at a creature that bore the face of his son, he'd managed to make peace with the deaths of Wen Xu and Wen Chao, as much as any parent could with the deaths of their children, such was the price of war. There were people he could blame and with their deaths, his determination to crush the other sects only grew, and his desire for revenge had only festered. Yet his Ying-er had been stolen, taken from him by the very thing that was supposed to help him reach new heights. His son had conquered the dead of the Burial mounds but he had been unable to conquer death, and neither had he, the boy's father, a man near immortality, been able to prevent it.
Yet just as he raised his sword he felt something cold hit the back of his neck and his body was no longer his own.
—--------
He’d managed to climb the steps, Bichen ready to slay Wen Ying’s father so the boy wouldn’t have to.
Yet he arrived just in time to witness something he never expected.
One moment Wen Ruohan was standing with murder in his eyes, the next the man had collapsed on the ground and Wen Ying was kneeling at his side as Wen Qing rushed over to the pair.
He hadn’t heard all the words exchanged but he watched as Wen Ruohan lifted a shaking hand.
“At least I got to see your face one more time A-Ying.”
And with those words on Wen Ruohan's last breath, the Wen Sect found itself with a new leader.
“Bye Baba,” his friend whispered.
Notes:
to be quite honest wasn't sure how I wanted to write this chapter so hope everyone liked it and it was what you expected or a pleasant surprise
Chapter 22: Eventide
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He’d poured all he had into the song that had been taught to him so long ago, that it almost felt like another lifetime.
Back then he’d shunned it, said he’d never need to know or use such a thing, would never want to harness the sorrow and rage of so many in such a way, yet here he was.
He trusted Wen Qing to do as he had asked her, Meng Yao would likely be finishing off the last of the remaining guards inside the palace with whatever prisoners were still in fighting condition after being subjected to his father.
He didn’t see when the needle made contact with his father, didn’t hear it when Wen Qing’s aim proved true and her needles hit their mark.
He felt it.
The force of the Yin Iron yielded, the shards seemingly uninterested in attacking him without someone else willing them to do so, he knew at that moment his father was dead, or close to it.
He lowered Chenqing and the resentment froze before steadily drifting to the ground, blanketing it like a heavy fog.
The Yin Iron came to him despite the fact he did not call to it, drawn to him as it always had been yet he couldn’t hear their voices.
BaYi seemed to balance it somewhat and the four pieces slid into the folds of his robes, stopping to rest right over his heart.
He was glad for it.
All he could focus on was his father’s face, looking shocked and dazed and oh so tired.
His father, who had, for all his life, been a mountain that refused to crumble, now swayed like grass in the wind.
He wasn’t sure how but his body moved on its own.
One moment he was standing across from his father, the next he was kneeling beside him, having slowly lowered the man who raised him.
His father seemed almost frail lying there on the ground, it was jarring in fact, now that he was no longer so set on survival he could see the way the man’s cheeks had hallowed and become gaunt, the way he no longer held his youthful appearance as one would when they were as close as he was to reaching immortality. He’d heard tales of cultivators wasting away in grief as all people did, immortals that fought their own bodies to pass and follow after those they loved.
It seemed his father had done the same.
“You-” he instantly met his father’s gaze, silver meeting mahogany and he watched as the word died on his father’s lips. “You’re not my son but you’re as close as I’ll get to saying what I never could.”
With each word, his father’s voice grew weaker, and tremors wracked his body as the poison wreaked havoc on him, Wen Qing could hurt as easily as she could heal but he knew his cousin had been careful. Had left enough time for him to speak with his father but also a short enough window so as not to draw out the suffering of the man, that despite all that had happened, Wen Wuxian couldn’t bring himself to truly hate.
This was the man that shaped him, had made him what he was. Had taught him to torture but also held him as they mourned the loss of their mother and wife, the one that raised him to strive so high as to hunt the gods but also the one who taught him how to tend to his mother's garden. So many memories and emotions threatened to surface and he valiantly pushed them down, doing his best to keep his mind clear and listen to what the man in his arms had to say.
“I was not always a good parent to you and your brothers, when I lost your mother I lost myself…. Then I almost lost you shortly after… I had been arrogant in my youth, like my father but still not as cruel as I never killed my children,” a cough wracked his father’s frame and he held the man as he cleared his throat and continued hoarsley. He'd known of his grandfather's cruelty but he'd never known the man had killed his own children, it made him shudder slightly as he realized just who made his father what he was. “I failed you in so many ways Ying-er, yet you never failed me, I didn’t get to say it to you enough but I am so,” another hacking cough, “so unbelievably proud of you, I only wish I could’ve seen you lead the sect, to reach for heights no one else can even see just as you always have.”
“I won’t let you down Fuqin,” he said, taking a shuddering breath as he restrained his emotions and tried to prevent the grief from streaming down his grime-covered face.
“You never could,” His father’s eyes slipped past him and stared over his shoulder and he smiled shakily, “I see my Xinxin-Xiangyin” (literally two hearts beating as one but means soulmate essentially) his father’s gaze slid back to him once more, “at least I got to see your face one more time my little ghost, my A-Ying.”
His father raised a hand as if to caress his face yet it never made contact with his skin, the pulse in his father’s wrist now barely there.
“Bye Baba.”
And with those final words, Wen Ruohan’s soul slipped away quietly into the ether.
Taking a shuddering breath he wiped the tears from his face, he couldn’t grieve, not right now.
He would have to remember his father and brothers as he did his mother, for longer than he’d known them.
—----------
She watched as her cousin pulled himself together in an admirable show of strong will, wiping the tears that had begun to gather in his eyes and streamed down his face.
She hadn’t heard the exchange between father and son aside from brief snippets, she tried to ignore them, standing a respectful distance so as to let the two of them have their moment.
Once Wen Wuxian stood she watched as all around Wens began to kneel, those in black, like her brother who had just made it up the stairs with a large group of disciples, presented their swords to him. Showing their acceptance of Wen Wuxian as their Sect Leader as well as pledging their loyalty, meanwhile, those in White threw down their swords and kowtowed low, begging for their lives to be sparred.
She and the servants would need to help Wen Wuxian sort out who was coerced and who had been a willing participant in Wen Ruohan’s reign of terror.
Immediately the difference between the late and new Sect Leader Wens began to show.
With a sigh and nod Wen Wuxian spoke, “Rise, there is no need to kneel when you have fought so valiantly by my side.”
Her brother stood and she pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight, relieved to finally have her baby brother back safe. She met Wuxian’s gaze and he gave her a small, tired smile.
Around them, servants emerged and began to escort the Wens in White away, or at least remove their swords. One of the braver ones gently picked up Wen Ruohan’s sword and handed it to Xue Yang who took it gravely.
She reached for him with her other arm and when he hesitantly came within arms reach she pulled him into a hug.
She’d lecture the both of them on reckless behavior later but for now, she was so utterly relieved they were alive and it was all over.
Wen Wuxian pulled away, stepping back with as big a smile as he could muster given the scenario, and raised Chenqing to his lips.
Taking a small breath he began to play.
Yet no maelstrom appeared, and no corpses rose.
Rather his dizi picked up that which the Lans had been playing until they stopped when Wen Ruohan had fallen to the ground.
Resentful energy began to dissipate where it lazily floated on the ground, vanishing like the morning dew.
She could feel the air lighten as the song continued and soon a Guqin joined followed by a symphony of other instruments as the Lans, following their Second Young Master’s example, began to aid in the cleansing of the city.
She couldn’t help the childlike grin that spread across her face as the fire palace began to shift all around them, flickering like a candle.
Sect Leaders gathered in awe of the display, watching the palace be reborn and the city with it.
Sigils raced out along the ground, lighting up the defensive talismans that had slowly faded, renewing the city’s wards.
The Lan’s instruments went silent as the dizi’s song drifted into the air, now a solo performance.
The banners that hung from the palace, displaying the red sun on a white background bordered by flames grew darker and the sun shifted, leaving a crimson flower superimposed on a black background.
Yet the most incredible of all was the shift in the Fire Palace, the ground shook slightly, as if there was an earthquake. Steadily the steps sank into the ground as did the rest of the building so it no longer loomed above the city, it stood now as an equal. It became lighter and airier, the corpses and bodies of the dead vanishing as they too were freed. Gardens made themselves known and red lilies swayed gently in the soft breeze.
Her cousin lowered his flute and opened his eyes, doing a double take as he took in his surroundings, he mouthed something to himself and shook his head before turning away from her.
“What the hell?!”
“How is this happening?”
She took a moment to bask in the warmth of the new sect as her brother laughed quietly.
—----------
“Nightless City and more notably the Fire Palace were built to reflect the leader of the sect,” his cousin smiled gently looking more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. “Wen Ruohan reigned for so long that many forgot such a detail and I only learned it recently when I was searching through some of our most ancient volumes.”
“So that means…?” Nie Mingjue prompted her far more patient than Wen Wuxian had ever seen the man, he was probably exhausted from climbing those steps twice.
“Wen Wuxian is the Sect Leader now!” Xue Yang exclaimed, cutting Wen Qing off yet she didn’t seem to have the heart to be mad, rather she just slapped the boy upside the head with a small eye-roll.
Apparently, his father’s death was a greater relief for her than he’d expected.
Though he supposed that was unfair, Wen Qing had been the one to deal with the aftermath of his death, of Wen Chao’s death, and of Wen Xu’s death.
She’d been most intimately connected with Wen Ruohan’s spiral into madness, such a thing would weigh heavy on anyone, especially a doctor who had only ever wanted to heal and help.
“Sect Leader Wen?” came a concerned voice, sounding almost afraid.
It took him a second to realize that he was Sect LEader Wen and he turned to see Lan Xichen staring at him anxiously.
“Yeah?” he asked eloquently.
“Where’s Meng Yao?”
—-----------
“Did you really have to rearrange the fucking Palace on me?” was the first thing he said before he immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.
Xue Yang erupted with laughter and Wen Wuxian smiled, much to his relief. “Sorry Young Master Meng, I hadn’t planned on that happening,” came the light-hearted response much to his relief. He was still adjusting to the whiplash of how different the father and son were from one another.
“A-Yao,” he caught Lan Xichen’s gaze and his friend pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Did you succeed?” Wen Wuxain asked once the Lan had released him.
“Yes,” he caught Wen Wuxaian’s gaze and sent him a look. “and the men who are responsible are no more.”
“Perfect.”
“SO!” someone shouted, “how about a feast?”
Notes:
I think I covered all my bases
time for things to sort of get back on track
Chapter 23: Revelations and Retribution
Summary:
back to long chapters
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The difference in the Palace was hard to ignore. As he entered the great hall for the feast which the Wen Servants somehow managed to arrange at such short notice based on the fragrant smells that wafted from tables. It was quite commendable, especially considering that the entire palace not only rearranged itself but it had quite literally been a warzone only a few hours earlier. However, he did suppose they were well-trained and likely viewed this as one of the first steps of repairing relationships with other sects. He could still remember the cultivation conference where they'd done the same to ease the introduction of Wen Wuxian. It was quite clever, he'd have to ask the kitchens of Cloud Recesses to do the same when he returned and the sect was rebuilt.
The ceiling arched higher than before, a soft grey color rather than the unwelcoming black, the massive doors that lined the walls were thrown open allowing the cool breeze to drift through carrying in the faint smell from the gardens as well as allowing some of the moonlight to stream in, aiding the light of the fires and talismans that lit the room. The room's shape had changed, becoming slightly more circular and the floor had changed to bamboo rather than stone so one's footsteps didn't echo ominously as they walked the room, in fact, there were no haunting echoes whatsoever.
He found it put him at ease but also seemed to be easily defendable based on the thickness of the walls and intricate protective talismans that seemed as frequent as the flowers in the newly named Fire Lily Palace.
The throne was gone, much to his relief but not to his surprise. Tables were all at the same heights and decorated with the colors of the sects who were to sit there and he couldn’t help but wonder how much the seemingly sentient palace was able to help with preparations as opposed to what the servants had managed to gather from the castle's stores or purchase in Nightless City.
The Nies and Jiangs were already seated or wandering through the room, mingling with each other and a few of the minor sects and the sound of conversation filled the room.
The Wens were there as well, most were seated and some of the other sects went over to talk to them while others had gotten up and walked around. Some, like Wen Qionglin, were up and conversing with others the ghost general in particular seemed to be engaged with Nie Huaisang and Xue Yang was speaking with Jiang Wanyin. He could understand the Wens' hesitation to interact with everyone else, knowing they likely still hadn't been accepted by the rest of the cultivators in the sunshot campaign with open arms. Not only that but they also were likely coping with the trauma of fighting their friends and family, something he could never imagine needing to do. Even now the weight of all that had happened hadn't settled on him yet, like he was afraid he'd wake up to lead troops another day and their victory was only a dream.
he glanced around the room and noted several important people and sects were absent so there was still time to talk before the main courses were served.
His brother went immediately to sit, having seemed to have noticed the absence of Wen Wuxian. The other Lans seemed to take it as permission and some went to go and speak with the friends they had made over the course of the war while others went to sit behind his brother, seemingly exhausted from the battle. (He'd never admit it but after drawing a bath and washing off the grime and blood and other substances he'd rather not identify, he promptly passed out, napping for the first time since he was sick or seven - he was sure others had too).
Meng Yao waved at him and walked up, “greetings Sect Leader Lan,” the man smiled tightly.
“Meng Yao what have I told you?” he said lightly, earning him a shyer and slightly more relaxed smile.
“Sorry Lan Xichen, force of habit," came the reply.
“No harm done, so are you going to stay in Qishan?” He couldn’t help but notice the man was dressed in the black and red flowered robes of the New Wen Sect, the only thing different was that instead of a white mourning belt like the rest of the Wen cultivators he had a grey one though it still had the tassel with a red jade flower carved into it.
“It seems so,” the man laughed tightly, “my father wanted nothing to do with me, surprising to no one.”
“You will always have a place in Gusu too should you want it,” he said, “and with my recommendation and that of the Wen Sect Leader we can likely get you a position in the other sects.” He knew the man had wanted nothing more than to be recognized by his father so he felt incredibly sorry for the apparent rejection that had occurred.
“Thank you, I might visit but I think I will fair best in Qishan, Wen Wuxian has been nothing but kind and offered me a position as most of the more important positions are vacant since so many of the older cultivators were loyal to the Late Sect Leader Wen." Came the ever eloquant resposne.
“Very well, remember that the offer is always there.”
—--------------
“Sect Leader Lan, Sect Leader Jiang, Young Master Jiang, Madam Yu, if I may speak to all of you for a moment,” he resisted the urge to visit as the group agreed and stepped away from the crowds a bit to a quieter corner of the great hall.
“Yes, Sect Leader Wen?” Jiang Fengmian asked lightly.
“As we all know my… the late Sect Leader Wen destroyed your homes, the Wen Sect will fully fund the rebuilding of both of your sects as well as offer any of our builders should you desire them.”
The group was silent for a moment before Lan Xichen broke it, “Are you sure? You’ve also lost so much…”
“I’m positive,” he said evenly, voice leaving no room for argument. “I hope you will accept it as a first gesture for the start of a new relationship between my sect and yours.”
Lan Xichen pursed his lips as Madam Yu nudged her husband.
“Thank you for your generosity Sect Leader Wen, we look forward to the changes you bring about in the Wen Sect.”
—------------
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Wen Wuxian had asked to speak with him and the Jiang Family but it wasn’t what came out of the boy’s mouth.
“As we all know my… the late Sect Leader Wen destroyed your homes, the Wen Sect will fully fund the rebuilding of both of your sects as well as offer any of our builders should you desire them.”
He’d known the boy had a good heart and a sense of honor and righteousness to rival his little brother’s. “Are you sure?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Wen Wuxian had assured him he was certain and had told them all to take it as a peace offering and the beginnings of a friendship between their sects.
He, following the Jiangs' example, agreed.
He had to tell Wangji and write to Shifu.
—----------
He hadn’t expected his friend to offer them a fortune, to agree to pay for the damages to Lotus Pier.
His mother had commented on how they would need to maintain a good relationship with the new Wen Sect, and that their leader had a good head on his shoulders.
“It means we can now invest in training and bringing in new disciples,” his father said softly, and he realized the full implications of the gesture.
While the emotional pain of losing their home would remain for a long time it meant they wouldn’t need to struggle to maintain their position within the cultivation world or reduce their size.
It truly was a fresh start.
—------------
“So,” he felt his jaw clench instinctively, Jin Guangshan was a snake, he remembered that from the cultivation conferences and all the stories he’d heard. Whatever the leader of the Jin Sect had to say it likely wasn’t going to be good. But he also knew he likely couldn’t say anything just yet.
“There are a few matters that must be addressed, no?” Everyone fell silent, the chatter slowly dying off as everyone looked at him, some in confusion others nodding in agreement. “First,” he said loudly as he stood, “I would like to congratulate everyone once more on our success of the sunshot campaign.”
“Not that you had any part in it,” Xue Yang grumbled from behind a teacup and he had to fight his lips from twitching up into the grin that so desperately wanted to form. It was true, that the only aid from the Jin Sect had been minimal and under the command of Jin Zixuan until victory was imminent but even then the Jins contributed little despite being the largest and wealthiest sect after the Wens, not that would remain the case as he had much to repay.
Jin Guangshan let the shouts and cheers die a little before speaking again. “The next matter we need to discuss is that of the next chief cultivator.”
Murmurs erupted from the Sects and intensified when Wen Qing stood up from where she had sat beside him and Wen Ning. He gave her a nod when their eyes met and she bowed before addressing the group, “I believe there should not be another Chief Cultivator. There is too large a risk for one person to hold that title for life, I suggest we just have the traditional annual meetings, and the issues are resolved as a group rather than by just one.”
He gave her a small smile at that and she offered one in return. No one knew the dangers of power more intimately than the Wen Sect, and of the entire sect Wen Qing had had the closest seat to the madness.
“Wise words, we do not want another Wen Ruohan.” Jiang Fengmian said with a small smile, “I share the opinions of the Young Maiden Wen, there is no need to have such a dangerous position. After all, those who desire power, more often than not, are the least deserving.”
He was so glad someone else agreed, someone who had fought on the front and fought well, who had lost so much, and, most importantly, was not a Wen. He was under no illusion about his sect's reputation, he may have won them the war and his sect may have kickstarted the campaign, had done everything they could to repair the damages of his father but it wouldn’t be enough. Not for quite some time, not until the wounds began to slowly heal.
The rest of the Sect voiced their agreements, after Jiang Fengmian’s point of desire versus deserve made it impossible for anyone to want to jockey for it lest they wished to be seen as power-hungry and a new version of his father. The Jin Sect Leader was now red in the face but he had one final trick up his sleeve.
“And what of the Core Melting Hand?” So he was starting small, testing the waters to figure out what to do with him.
—--------------
“The Nie Sect has already spoken with the new Sect Leader Wen,” his brother began, seeing the way Jin Guangshaun was gearing up again he decided to get ahead of him. “We offered to take the responsibility of his containment as he is so powerful there was a concern for the safety of the cultivators who would be in charge of him.”
“Our sabers are best equipped to deal with such a threat,” he added gruffly. He wasn’t as diplomatic as Huaisang but he wasn’t about to make his baby brother publicly take on the Jin Sect Leader alone.
All around them whispers broke out, he resisted the urge to place a hand on Baxia, he had known this was a dangerous subject. Wen Wuxian had explained every danger when he’d made the request not long after the battle finished.
Before today he likely would’ve said no, he wouldn’t protect the man, would sooner kill him than stand to be in his presence but slowly Wen Wuxian, Wen Qionglin, and Wen Qing had painted the picture for him and his brother, had filled in the gaps. They’d knocked on the door to his guest quarters they’d provided and Huaisang had let them in, the trio had sat down and launched into their tale.
His first cousin once removed had made a trade. His Mother was supposed to be engaged to an important general in the Wen Sect yet she and his father had eloped, not knowing of such an arrangement. Wen Ruohan had been furious and demanded payment, his mother was pregnant by then and his father had refused. His mother's cousin, her last surviving family and adopted brother, had agreed to stand in her place. Was tortured for years, and his core warped until he was able to melt cores, when his mother passed Zhao Zhuliu had thought he’d be free but that was not so. Rather Wen Ruohan went after the Sect Leader Nie too and threatened to kill Nie Mingjue to keep the core melter in line. Wen Qionglin had gone on to explain that the core melting hand had been hiding amongst the Wens so he could fight on the front. Wen Qing had said there were a few theories to remove the man’s core melting abilities should the Nies wish to take him in so he could live out his days in peace.
He and Huaisang had then been shocked to see a tear slip down Wen Wuxian’s face as he explained the core melting hand had raised him as his father’s mind had slipped, that he wouldn’t be able to keep his last surviving parental figure safe from the other sects.
Huaisang had looked at him expectantly and he’d sighed before agreeing.
He was also not one to turn away family and he owed this man a debt.
—------------
All around cultivators voiced their approval. With that issue cleared up, he with bated breath for Jin Guangshan to make his next move but was confident he would be able to handle it.
“Well then,” the man smiled as the vein in his forehead throbbed, but the smile was by far what he was more concerned about. “Lastly, we need to deal with the threat of the demonic cultivator.”
The hall around him stilled, and no one dared to breathe. The only sound was that of the night wind as it brushed its way through the leaves outside and the crackling of torches as they lit the large hall. The air was trapped in his lungs and his mouth felt like it was filled with sand. He knew the Jins would make a move, it would have been foolish not to but he had expected it in the form of some insulting marriage proposal that could easily be cast aside. An attempt to turn him into a pawn by using a cousin or bastard child of the Jin Sect Leader to forge an alliance he figured. The stillness had barely lasted more than a few seconds before he decided to shatter it like he wanted to shatter the Jin Sect Leader’s teeth.
In a voice so calm and cheerful it sounded ominous, resisting the urge to twirl Chenqing, he forced out the words “I do not need to be ‘dealt with.’”
“You’re a danger! You could try and be the next Wen Ruohan!” he pointed an accusatory finger at him, face turning a deep red. “You’re a demonic cultivator., a heretic, a monster.”
“HOW DARE YOU?” Xue Yang snarled, rising from his seat before another disciple dragged him back down to sit. Wen Ning rose too and soon all his disciples were now standing behind him, staring silently at the Jin Sect Leader who now looked slightly unsure.
He wasn’t sure who but someone broke the silence and soon insults and threats were being hurled. The suggestions of torture that were leaving even the most polite of them were so explicitly detailed that a few people looked ready to hurl and some poor boy from the Chang Sect actually did. The Jiangs had risen too, their Young Master being a good friend and owing a debt to Wen Wuxian for the warning he sent, even the mild-mannered Jiang Fengmian looked furious. Jin Zixuan was staring at his father in abject horror, the elders of the Jin Sect as well as those who had fought alongside the Wens in the sunshot campaign were wearing similar expressions. The Nies had risen too, he had even seen Lan Zhan’s knuckles turn white on Bichen, the boy was too good a person.
“I’m sorry what?” he said in a voice so cold that the Wens stilled, slowly sinking back into their seats. Lan Wangji had frozen in his seat at Jin Guangshan’s words, his mind racing far too fast for him to have any idea of what to do. At the way the Wens seemed to recognize a threat they didn’t the rest of the sects watched intently, their voices silenced as if by the Lans’ famous spell. The Wens knew from his tone that they wouldn’t need to fight on his behalf. It was a voice he seldom used, it commanded respect, so much so it had even made Lan Enlai obey him so long ago.
The Wens had seen Wen Ruohan and knew what he’d taught each of his sons, how he’d trained each of them in everything that could be of use. Had raised Wen Wuxian to know how to strike fear in people’s hearts, had taught every trick to politics, and had turned him into a weapon of the highest caliber. The burial mounds had played a part too, allowing him to stomach even the most heinous of sights, to tap into the knowledge and rage of thousands of dead soldiers. Had his heart been darker, his mind more twisted, he would’ve been so monstrous that his father would appear tame. A kitten in the face of a lion. The Wens had seen the sheer power their new Sect Leader wielded and they also knew he wouldn’t let them, and by extension himself, be dragged through the mud.
“I’m the monster? I fought against my own family to keep all of you safe! I survived the Burial Mounds not once, not twice, but three damn times! My family and Sect have given so so much to your cause how much more do you want? Do you want us all to throw down the swords that fought alongside everyone here in the sunshot campaign and be subjected to torture?”
He took a calming breath and looked at the man with a gleam in his eye that promised a massacre. “But what of you? What have you sacrificed? You, a man too cowardly to join a war but tries to claim the glory, a man who rapes children for the sheer joy it causes him, a monster who would sooner destroy his sect than lose power has the audacity to call me a monster?”
Jin GuangSTD turned purple at that and whispers broke out, all the sects had heard the rumors but no one had ever called him out on it so publicly.
“Do you know in my defectors alone there are some twenty Jin descendants, do you know how young the youngest mother was when she gave birth? She had just turned fourteen and gave birth to your child.”
This drew gasps and there was obvious horror on Madam Jin’s face, the face of his son was turning red and he clenched Suihua tighter.
“You probably didn’t even know about little A-Yu did you?” he could barely keep himself calm as he remembered Wen Ning telling him of the mother pleading with him for someone to adopt her son when the war was over, to at least find the boy a good family. He’d offered to adopt the boy but the child wouldn’t make it to the Fire Lily Palace for another week or so as he was hidden amongst the non-cultivating Dafan Wens. “The son she left behind when she died on the front of this very campaign not long after giving birth to him.”
“So what?” Jin Guangshit sneered. “They asked for-”
“Finish that sentence and you can kiss your life goodbye,” He said icily.
“SEE?” the man shouted triumphantly, seemingly having not gained anything from what he’d said. “See how he manipulates and threatens! We must ensure he never becomes like his father! The Jin Sect would gladly contain him-”
“FUCK OFF!” Xue Yang shouted at him, the only thing stopping him from lunging at the man was the risk of another war and Wen Fengge’s reluctantly raised arm that didn’t really block his way.
“You are not coming anywhere near my cousin!” Wen Ning growled out, the disciples cheering and raising their swords in obvious agreement.
Jin Guangshan continued, talking even louder as if the rest of the sects would disagree with the Wens, “-we can take him to the Koi Tower and-”
—--------------
The minute Jin Guangshaun had opened his mouth he’d known there would be trouble.
Wen Qing had shot down the idea of another Chief cultivator which he fully agreed with while Sect Leader Nie seemed to have taken responsibility for the core melting hand.
Then the man in gold turned on Wen Ying.
He knew his sect couldn’t do much to defend the boy, much less against the Jin Sect, they were far too weak from all the losses during the burning and now the war. It also wasn’t his place to say anything, he held no importance aside from his reputation as Hanguang-Jun and a friend of Wen Ying. He was not anything more so his voice would hold less sway to the other sects and despite how he would like nothing more than to be standing beside the boy he couldn’t abandon his brother nor could he risk the friendship he had formed.
He did everything he could, tried to ignore that accusation that burned in the air, and took deep calming breaths.
He was about to say something when the Wens began to defend their New Sect Leader with a passion he hadn’t expected. He’d known Wen Ying was well-loved within his sect, how could the boy not be? He radiated sunshine and joy after all. Yet the ferocity at which they defended him despite having just been subjected to a war and being viewed as the bad guys, probably still even now, was admirable.
Then Wen Ying ripped into the man with the skillful ferocity born of someone raised to be a Sect Leader. Without a shred of mercy, his friend laid the truth down at the feet of the man in gold and despite quite literally having struck gold his friend went further. He’d revealed the shocking revelation he’d survived the Burial Mounds, three times no less, which had sent him reeling but couldn’t dwell on it as his friend went for the jugular.
Then the Jin Sect Leader had only continued to prove how terrible of a person he was and tried to blame it on the victims, something that made him seethe even more.
Wen Ying had said a reasonable threat and the man in gold tried to use that.
He couldn’t just sit there as his friend, his only friend, and the one he wanted to give his ribbon to again one day, was torn down.
Before he knew it he was standing, Bichen gripped so hard in his hand that he knew it would leave a bruise.
Taking a deep breath he spoke.
—-------------
A groaning sound as a table slid on the floor startled everyone’s eyes over to look at the Lans.
“Wen Ying is not like his father,” Lan Zhan said coldly, standing abruptly and glaring at the Jin Sect Leader. After giving a moment for everyone to realize what was happening and for the Jin Sect Leader to turn a delightful shade of maroon, he couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't passed out yet. “He is good, he helped us win this war while you were hiding from it and trying to sell us out. Wen Ying and his sect are the reason we won this war. You should not be trying to blame the stench on someone when you’re the one who smells of shit.”
LAN ZHAN SWORE FOR HIM! He tried not to swoon, where was his perfect little Lan Disciple?
Was it possible for him to love this man any more?
“And,” Lan Xichen continued, giving his brother's surprised side eye but recovering rather elegantly, “unless there is an immediate change of Sect Leaders in the Jin Sect the Lans will cut off all trade.”
“As will the Jiangs,” Yu Ziyuan called out, her husband nodding his agreement, it was nice to see them as a united front with their marriage slowly piecing itself back together to at least basic courtesy.
“The Nie Sect will also take their business elsewhere.” Nie Huaisang added, his usual nervous personality and stutter gone in the defense of one of his friends.
“YOU! YOU- HOW DARE YOU ALL?” The man yelled, the vein in his forehead throbbing, how long was it going to last before it burst he wondered.
“NO HOW DARE YOU!” Jin Zixuan stood and whirled on his father, yelling back in a disgusted rage. “I AM ASHAMED TO EVEN CALL YOU MY FATHER, I WILL NOT LET YOU RUIN THE LIVES OF THE PEOPLE OF LANLING FOR YOUR OWN GREED AND AMBITIONS!”
“HOW DARE YOU BETRAY ME! YOU ARE NOT MY SON!” Jin Guangshan hollered, drawing his sword and pointing it at his son. Drawing Suihua Jin Zixuan blocked his father’s wild swing and the Jin Cultivators, by now far more loyal to their heir than their sect leader, drew their swords and pointed them at the Jin Sect Leader. The aforementioned man was swiftly disarmed and held down, he was screaming out curses and insults and kicking and struggling to break free but was firmly held down. He was practically frothing at the mouth when Madam Jin and her son removed his title and formally apologized to him and the rest of the sects. Wen Qing stuck a few needles in the still shrieking man, stilling his flailing limbs, and a few Jin Sect Cultivators and various sect healers dragged the raving lunatic of a man away with a look of disdain on all of their faces.
“We will also endeavor to compensate my siblings and their families in any way necessary. I express my sincerest apologies to my brother Meng Yao for the abuse he has suffered at the hands of my father and hope he would be willing to aid me in my endeavors from his home in the Wen Sect or, should he wish, a home at Koi Tower where he will always be welcomed.” The Jin Heir, no, the Jin Sect Leader, bowed deeply.
Meng Yao nodded and politely accepted but said he would only ever call the Fire Lily Palace home and an awkward silence filled the room.
“So…” someone finally broke the silence.
“What now?”
“Perhaps we should reconvene in a few weeks to discuss the redrawing of territories and the plans for the future?” Wen Qing suggested. “I’m sure everyone would like to go home and see their families for a little while.”
Everyone eagerly agreed to that, after all, that had occurred no one really wanted to try again tonight.
—------------
He was making his way back to his quarters having tried to find Wen Ying but failing.
It would’ve been the first time he got the chance to speak to his friend since the war began and so much had happened. Between the revelations that had been made, the losses the boy suffered, and most recently the stunt by Jin Guangshun he wanted to check on his friend. Wen Qing had explained his friend had been exhausted and needed to rest but would love to see him and that Wen Wuxian would likely be fine by tomorrow morning and she would let him know.
It had been an unexpected display of kindness and trust, but he eagerly accepted it, after all, it was getting close to nine and he was aching from the events earlier today.
He’d taken a wrong turn somewhere along his way back to his rooms and now was in one of the many wings that housed the disciples of the sect it seemed rather than the guests.
“-so there they were, Hanguang-Jun and Wen Xu!” he heard a voice through one of the doors, slightly muffled but full of energy.
He slowed at the mention of his title, maybe he could ask for directions, but he wasn’t eavesdropping.
He wasn’t.
“What happened next?” came the eager question, it sounded like a little boy.
“They fought valiantly, the clashing of their swords sending waves of energy across the battlefield, so strong even I could feel them!” the girl continued and he couldn’t help but shake his head slightly at the exaggeration, but then again this was a story for kids, it’s not like she could tell them about dismembering the corpses.
“Wow!” came another voice.
The storyteller continued, “But Hanguang-Jun was tired, he’d been fighting all day and Wen Xu, having been trained by Wen Ruohan himself and as good as Wen Wuxian with a sword, hadn’t been fighting and had all of his Qi at his disposal.”
He slowed even further, stopping now right in front of the double doors
“Oh no!” came yet another voice.
“Oh yes!” The storyteller said and he could practically hear the joy they were getting from the kid’s reactions. “He swung at the Second Young Master Lan and sent him into a fierce corpse!”
A chorus of gasps.
“Yet the noble Lan didn’t give up, rather he cut his sleeve off so that he may-”
“So he was a cut-sleeve?” a voice piped.
His ears began to heat, he was a cut sleeve, and he loved Wen Ying with everything he had, but he didn’t realize it would be an interest of others. The grip he had on Bichen was crushing.
“That isn’t what I said,” came the sigh.
He felt his face heat up and his ears burn.
“There’s nothing wrong with it!” someone else piped up. “Sect Leader is a cut sleeve too!”
Sect leader?
Wen Ying was a cut sleeve?
He held his breath and waited for a denial.
“He likes both, A-Shuang.”
With that calm correction, his whole world changed.
There was a chance Wen Ying could love him back one day.
Yet a dark thought of Wen Ying with another man was somehow worse than the thought of him with a woman, it made him want to break something so he quickly shoved it down.
“Oh!” came the happy response and his mind was still swirling.
“Now, back to the story.”
“Yes!” came the soft cheers
“When Hanguang-Jun cut himself free he revealed a secret, a secret that saved his life.”
“What was it?”
He shared the same curiosity as the little kids who were asking about the story.
There was a pause for dramatic effect and he wanted to break the doors down to demand answers, but he didn’t that would give him away.
“He had a red ribbon around his wrist.”
“Like the one Sect Leader wears?”
“Yes, remember he has two of the same? It was the other ribbon from his mother.”
A chorus of gasps and whispers though he could never get a complete thought through the heavy doors.
The ribbon obviously meant something.
“-his mama’s ribbon-”
“-really cares-”
“-must be special-”
“And that’s why Wen Xu didn’t kill him,” came the answer from the girl telling the story.
“Wow! So Sect Leader saved him even while he wasn’t there?”
“It sure seems that way, but don’t tell him I told you. You know he doesn’t like bragging about how powerful he is.”
“Mhm!”
He quickly hurried back to his room at that, praying no one would see him and ask about his most definitely flushed complexion or why he was holding his wrist close to his chest.
When he somehow managed to make it back to the safety of his room he shut the door and took a few deep calming breaths, getting ready for bed as he tried to sort out his thoughts.
As he drifted off, clutching the ribbon to his chest he couldn’t get the question of the ribbon out of his head. It had saved his life, it obviously meant more to the Wens than he knew.
He’d ask Wen Ying tomorrow.
----------------
He wasn't entirely sure how long he had been playing, he had asked Wen Ning and Wen Qing to make sure no one disturbed him, taming the Yin Iron was tedious work.
Slowly, piece by piece BaYi grew, gaining a stem and two leaves as the other three pieces finally relented to his efforts, calming themselves and becoming a part of his spiritual weapon.
He resisted the urge to collapse when he'd finished.
He'd used so much energy today between fighting his father and cleansing the Yin iron he was physically exhausted.
Not even to mention the emotional exhaustion he was experiencing, he was so drained from everything. The whole war, he was so damn tired.
He was still turning his father's words over in his mind, the man from his earliest years shining through, the man he was before the resentment had taken hold.
"So what's the verdict?" he asked Wen Qing as she finished her examination of his body and core.
"Whatever you did to make that," she gestured at BaYi which was lying beside Chenqing, "seems to have not done too much more damage."
"It helps me heal after the abyss," he said slowly. "So maybe it's helping me now? I'm not really sure why because the sentience is gone."
She nodded and added another note.
"I have a theory but I need to do a bit more research," she said packing her bag. "Get some rest and keep it near you, you should be better tomorrow."
"Understood," he said with a tired smile.
"I'm going to get a few disciples to stand guard," Wen Ning said with a small smile.
He was about to protest when his cousin cut him off.
"I know you don't need them but sister said not to exert your core so they're going to be a precaution."
He sighed and relented, thinking twice based on the glare Wen Qing shot him from the doorway.
"Oh, and Lan Wangji was looking for you, I told him he could see you tomorrow."
With that he was left in his room, sighing he prepared for bed.
He ordinarily would've bathed but he already had after his earlier examination before the banquet.
Laying down he stared up at the ceiling, listening as the guards settled themselves outside his door.
With a shuddering breath, he let himself feel.
Finally letting the tears fall.
Notes:
hope you liked this one!
there was a lot going on lol
Chapter 24: Flowers Bloomed and Dead Land Sighed
Summary:
okay so, disclaimer
I tried my absolute best on the first part (well all of it but my main concern is the beginning)
hopefully, I didn't disappoint
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
He rose at 5 and didn't move from his bed, knowing Wen Ying likely wouldn't be up for several more hours.
The events of yesterday raced through his mind, staring up at the ceiling above him he couldn’t help but run the conversation through his head.
When he got the all-clear from Wen Qing or when he ran into Wen Ying next he needed to ask him about the ribbon, should he tell him how he found out? Why he was asking? He wouldn’t share it openly he decided but he wouldn’t lie if his friend asked. What would Wen Ying say? Would he like the answer he got? Would he need to give the ribbon back?
Lying was against the rules and even if it wasn’t he wouldn’t lie to Wen Ying, the boy deserved the truth. Sighing to himself he slipped out from the blankets and made his way over to the bath. Forcing the train of thought from his mind as he did so, there was no point in dwelling on what could be, it would only hurt him.
He heard a knock at his door and when he went to open it, having pulled on his outer robe and forehead ribbon, just enough to look presentable, he found no one there but a tray with tea and a small assortment of foods. It seemed the Wen servants were aware of the Lan’s sleep schedule and had delivered him breakfast.
He picked the tray up and returned to the safety of his room, the tea he recognized as one of the many blends that had been gifted to them, Guangxin he recalled, light heart, it had been a healing tea. He finished the pot as the bath finished heating.
Sticking his hand in and ensuring the temperature was correct he deactivated the talismans and stripped himself of his robes, carefully folding them and placing them at the foot of his bed, doing the same with his forehead ribbon.
Slipping into the steaming water he sighed. While his muscles and body relaxed his mind could not, he replayed the conversation at the banquet. How the former Sect Leader Jin had tried to insult his friend, how it had taken him so long to stand up for his only friend. If he could go back he would’ve punched the man for the accusations he had hurled. Wen Ying wasn’t a monster, he was the best person he knew.
As he rinsed the suds from his hair his head fell back against the rim of the tub and he sighed.
Just another thing to say sorry to Wen Ying for.
The boy has said no "thank you"s or "sorry"s between them but he couldn’t help but feel he owed at least two.
For this and for letting his friend kill his last remaining family.
He wasn’t sure if Wen Ying would be able to forgive him this time.
—-----------
“Your core seems to be back to normal, your levels are still a little lower than they normally are but that’s to be expected all things considered,” His cousin removed her fingers from his wrist. “Any issues with nightmares or lingering side effects of the resentful energy?”
He shook his head, “Nothing, not even the voices.”
“Good, good,” his cousin nodded, “let me know if anything changes, and be sure to take it easy, lay off the alcohol you know the drill by now, and-”
“And if I don’t you’ll stick me full of needles and drag me to bed to rest until you determine I’m fine, I know I know,” he finished earning an eye roll from the famous healer.
“Why don’t you go and take a walk in the gardens? Wen Ning has been seeing the Sect Leaders off to give you a break, no one said anything as we explained you were dealing with the last of the men that had been loyal to Wen Ruohan,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and staring at him expectantly.
“I-” he sighed before relenting. Admittedly he didn’t want to see the sects off, especially the Jins which would be full of nothing but awkward apologies, and fresh air and some peace did sound nice. “Okay, I’ll just have breakfast first.”
“I’ll have the servants bring you a pot of Huifu, I expect you to finish it.”
He reflexively brought to fingers to his forehead as he nodded, causing a laugh to burst from his cousin.
“Feel better, I’ll be in the library should you need me.”
He got up and stretched, listening to his back pop as he did so, he was glad Wen Qing wasn’t there for that, he chuckled to himself, she’d have stuck him full of needles again.
Opening his closet he found all his robes, even the formal one that he wore to be introduced, and a few others worthy of the Leader of the Wen Sect. Yet he didn’t touch any of those, instead, he reached for his favorite set, the one that had been recreated as it had been what he had been wearing when he ‘died.’ the fabric was just as soft as he remembered as he absently ran his hand across it.
The pompous displays of wealth through clothes had never been his style, so he decided he wouldn’t wear the formal robes except to weddings for the sake of respect, even to cultivation conferences he would dress as he always had. Slipping the black over his red inner robes he noticed the suns on every robe had been replaced with flowers.
The staff was as incredible as always, he would need to give them a break once all the sect leaders and their disciples left, a chance to see their families and begin the long healing process just as he and so many others had.
Tying his hair with his signature ribbon he heard a knock and opened the door.
“Wen Qiuyue,” he smiled taking the tray from her, “how are you?”
The girl bowed and smiled, the last time he’d seen her she had been a shy young woman, a servant under his eldest brother. “I’m good Sect Leader Wen, I am to be married in a few weeks.”
His face split into a grin and he set the tray down before pulling her into a brief hug, “Congratulations! Who is the lucky man?”
She blushed as she stepped back, “Yi Zhong” she muttered shyly.
“The spicy noodle shop owner?” she nodded, still blushing furiously, “That’s wonderful, I’d like to pay for your robes, ah no protesting, consider it a wedding gift for the two of you. I owe Yi Zhong for more bowls of free noodles and chili sauce than I can count.”
“Thank you so much!” she smiled and squeezed him in a hug, “I’ve got to get back to delivering meals but I’ll be sure to send you an invitation!” she said as she waved and began to jog down the hall.
With a smile he shut the door and picked up the tray, finally noticing that it had been his favorite meal from his childhood.
The people of his sect were truly too good to him.
He finished the meal and left a hastily written note, thanking the cook Lei Ai. Somehow she’d remembered despite it being almost two years since he’d last eaten it.
With one last check in the mirror to make sure he was presentable, he had a reputation to uphold now after all he left and made his way to the gardens.
As he walked further and further from the palace, he felt more relaxed and more at peace, stopping at a fountain he watched the water ripple and the flowers within it sway gently.
He would need to arrange for the burial of his father and brothers in the family tombs, he’d already commissioned their tablets for the ancestral hall, and they’d be placed where his head rested, it had been eerie to see his name carved in red jade, he’d had it broken and repurposed to make tassels and beads, he wouldn’t be needing one for a long time. He would need to wait until after everyone left to put them up though, he wasn’t about to stir up trouble for no reason.
Sighing he shook himself from the train of thought and turned to continue on his way, he was already a reasonable distance from the palace but he was making his way to the small pavilion he knew was nestled in the furthest corner, against the now lowered inner wall, where no one would disturb him.
But just as he was about to resume walking a flash of blue in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
—------------
He made his way down the long winding paths, passing reflection pools and beds of flowers. Trees laden with fruit swayed gently in the breeze, it was so tranquil it was hard to believe this had been the site of war only yesterday. All around bird song echoed and he was glad there wasn’t silence he would have found it unnerving, he only wanted peace right now, a chance to think before he went to speak with Wen Ying.
The gardens were much larger than he’d expected, encompassing an area he’d equate to the size of the back mountains of cloud recesses. It was nice, his chances of running into another cultivator, let alone another person were incredibly low. Most Sects would be leaving tomorrow, the Jins and a few other sects like the Chang and Yao clans had left today but the Jiangs and Lans would be leaving in two days' time. The payment Wen Ying would be making to the latter two was to be discussed tomorrow between his brothers and the Sect Leader Jiang and Madam Yu. He was glad he wouldn’t need to be there, he wasn’t sure how to handle the sheer generosity of his friend.
Stopping he turned to stare down at the Gentians, the light purple flowers glaring up at him accusingly, a reminder he sighed to himself. A reminder to not be selfish, to not make the same mistake as his father, did Wen Ying know the story? Is that why these flowers grew? Or did they simply remind him of the Cloud Recesses, he assumed it was the latter, he’d mentioned the Gentians on the day of the cold pond cave incident after all. His ears burned as he remembered tying the ribbon around Wen Ying’s wrist, his thoughts circling back to the conversation he would need to have as he resumed walking.
“Lan Zhan!” came the call and he instinctively looked, never able to resist the urge to see the one he loved.
“Wen Ying,” he greeted calmly, stopping to wait as his companion jogged to catch up, slowing to a walk which he matched when he drew closer.
Their steps fell into sync as his thoughts turned turbulent, he hadn’t had the chance to plan this conversation, not that one could ever really plan when it came to Wen Ying, the boy always had been and would be full of surprises. Now how to approach the subject, his companion was walking calmly beside him, humming a song he’d taught him roughly two years earlier.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking but soon they came upon a small pavilion, its light grey colored columns covered in the twisting vines of flowers. ZhenSe, true colors, the plaque read as they stepped into the circle, inside was a reflection pool carved of black jade full of pearly koi fish surrounded by red and white lilies.
“My father built it for my mother,” Wen Ying broke the silence. “Her name was CangSe.”
Hidden Colors, how fitting.
He inclined his head, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that, apologize for Wen Ying’s loss? Comment on the clever name choice? Ask about his mother? The boy already said he didn’t remember her as she'd died when he was young.
But Wen Ying halted his internal debate, “I come here whenever something is troubling me. I find it to be rather peaceful.”
His friend hesitated and he glanced over at the boy, his companion’s gaze was still fixed on the reflection pool but soon silver met gold and the question he’d been dreading was finally asked. “So what’s troubling Lan Zhan, hm?”
He wasn’t sure why he said it.
Maybe it was the peace of the gardens, maybe this pavilion was enchanted for one to show, as the name implied, their true colors. Maybe it was because Wen Ying was looking at him so earnestly with a look of concern and care that made him want to kiss it away.
Whatever the reason was, he spoke his mind.
“What does the ribbon mean?”
—----------
“What does the ribbon mean?”
Of all the things he’d expected Lan Zhan to say he hadn’t expected that question.
Did he know?
Who told him?
He felt his stomach drop and his heart begin to pound, he swallowed but his mouth was dry.
This was the end, Lan Zhan wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore.
He was probably disgusted.
Of course, his friend was too polite to say it directly and was too good a Lan to say exactly what he was thinking. He knew his preferences weren’t always accepted, here in Qishan his father, upon learning of his interest in both men and women, had passed laws to protect him and had scared everyone into line. Accepting him without question, it had been one of the moments his father’s true self had shone through. Unfortunately, his dad hadn’t done that for the entirety of the cultivation world despite terrorizing them in other ways. Not that he really cared for their opinions, he did, however, care about Lan Zhan’s.
It came out in a rush as he resisted the urge to just run off to the burial mounds and hide so he could die of embarrassment and heartbreak in peace. “I’m really sorry- I- I- didn’t- It wasn’t-”
—----------
“I’m really sorry- I- I- didn’t- It wasn’t-”
Why was Wen Ying apologizing?
“Wen Ying,” he said, trying to get his friend to stop rambling on and answer this question.
“I didn’t mean to offend- I-”
He placed his hands on his friend's shoulders and repeated himself, louder this time.
“WEN YING.”
That got the boy to finally stop rambling, shutting his mouth into a tight thin line, though he refused to meet his eyes anymore, instead preferring to look at the reflection pool with a blank stare.
“Why are you apologizing?”
That got his friend to look at him, the sheer amount of despair in those silver orbs had him resisting the urge to pull his friend into a hug and offer him comfort in any way he could.
His friend merely shook his head and he sighed quietly, dropping his arms.
“I’m not mad,” he said calmly. He needed to be clear, to not leave room for misinterpretation. “It saved me from Wen Xu, I heard a disciple mention it.” He watched his friend intently as he asked the question that had been nagging at him all of last night and this morning, “why?”
—-------------
“Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, the illustrious Second Jade of Lan, the noble Hanguang-Jun was eavesdropping?” he couldn’t resist the urge to tease, to avoid the conversation that was now inevitable.
The Lan’s ears flushed.
Cute.
No, he mentally scolded himself, we are not thinking about that right now, not when Lan Zhan is about to hate my guts.
“Wen Ying.” His friend said, ears still red but face as neutral as always, though he could see a hint of embarrassment in his friend’s eyes, the only part of his face that was expressive.
“It was my mother’s?” he tried but that earned him a slightly miffed look that made him sigh.
Taking a deep breath and refusing to look at the Lan's eyes, not wanting to see the disgust appear, he fought to keep his voice from wavering.
“When I gave it to you I told you it was my mother’s, that’s true. When I said to show it to a Wen and black and they’d help you, that was also true. What I didn’t tell you was if you showed it to any Wen they would recognize it. My mother’s, and now my, ribbons are unique, anyone in the Wen Sect can recognize them. Wen Xu recognized the one, I gave you. I gave it to you because of that, because by recognizing it it would mean you would be safe, that you would live.”
He took a shuddering breath and shut his eyes before foreign the most important words out, he could feel the weight of the Lans expectant gaze as the words left his lips. “It’s… It’s considered to be a confession of love.”
—------------
The last word echoed through his head.
Love.
Wen Ying gave him the ribbon to keep him safe.
He knew it would protect him should he be captured, would keep him safe no matter what happened.
He’d been wearing a confession of love through this entire war.
The same love confession had made Wen Xu hesitate, it was the reason Wen Ying’s eldest brother died.
It was the reason he lived.
It was why the Wens were so protective of him afterward.
It explained so much but it left so many questions unanswered and created so many more mysteries.
Then he asked, what he considered to be the most important question.
“Does all of the Wen Sect think we’re courting?”
His friend winced, shuffling uncomfortably “It’s the equivalent of being engaged.”
They were engaged.
All of Wen Ying's friends and family thought they were engaged.
This was the best day of his life.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything…” Wen Ying said.
This was now the worst day of his life.
“iloveyoualotbutiunderstandifyoudon’tfeelthesameway. ”
—------------
Fuck.
Had he said that out loud?
Glancing up at the Lan hesitantly he saw nothing but shock on the boy’s face.
Double fuck.
He’d definitely said that out loud.
He wasn’t sure why he’d said that.
Maybe it was because he knew deep down if he didn’t say it now he might never have the courage (or the stupidity) to say it again.
And now he’d broken Lan Zhan.
“Lan Zhan?” he asked, hating how scared he sounded, how small, “Say something, please ?”
Anything.
Anything was better than the silence.
He watched his friend raise his hands and he closed his eyes as he braced himself to be pushed away.
-----—--------
I love you.
The minute he heard the words he’d been dreaming of hearing for so long he couldn’t help but think it was an illusion or some cruel dream. But Wen Ying wouldn’t play a joke on him and the way his blood roared in his ears he figured it wasn’t.
Even if it was a dream he was going to relish every second of this.
He’d never had a way with words.
He lifted his hands one going to settle on Wen Ying’s cheek, the other ripping his forehead ribbon from his head.
So he’d let Wen Ying know he felt the same the best way he knew how.
Closing his eyes he kissed him.
—----------
He felt a hand come up and cup his face, he’d opened his eyes in shock just in time to see Lan Zhan, sans ribbon, with his eyes closed, leaning down.
Something soft and warm pressed against his lips.
His brain went foggy, dazed like he'd been hit really hard by Wen Qing minus the pain or the eye roll, as he realized Lan Zhan was kissing him.
But just as he’d made the realization the Lan had pulled away.
The smile on the Lan’s face was all he could focus on, the small twitch of his lips might as well have been the planets aligning.
He barely even noticed the Lan lifting his arm until he felt the cool metal against his skin, glancing down he realized the Lan’s forehead ribbon, was being wrapped around his wrist, the cloud pendant being the source of the cool sensation. The words died in his throat as he stared at the ribbon. It had been wrapped around his wrist once before, he’d missed it ever since.
His brain helpfully supplied who it was for, spouses and children, to let go of one’s restraints.
“Now we’re engaged in the Lan sect,” Lan Zhan said to him, his gold eyes meeting his.
Now he understood all those poets.
Now he knew why people always complained of the inadequacy of words, of ways to describe such a feeling. As hard as his mind tried every description fell short of how he felt. It was something so weightless, that made him so free yet at the same time draped over him like a protective ward of the highest caliber. It shined like the light of the stars yet held more depth than the darkness in which they were scattered.
So rather than making promises of ‘always’ and ‘forever’ he wrapped his arms around his Lan Zhan’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss as he laughed.
The kiss they shared wasn’t earth-shattering like the first was, wasn’t a revelation, it didn’t make the flowers bloom but it was oh so sweet, a million words and thoughts condensed into one moment, into one simple gesture.
He could stay here forever.
—------------
The next two days made him feel as if he was floating, even when his brother sent him a knowing smirk the next morning he couldn’t bring himself to feel upset about it.
He hadn’t mentioned the engagement to his brother yet.
Would tell him when Uncle was there too because he didn’t want to have to fly the entire way to Gusu with his brother being smug.
Not that he would really care now.
Wen Ying was his.
His.
And he was Wen Ying’s.
Nothing else mattered.
They were never apart aside when it was time to sleep and the brief meeting for payment which had only been an hour, and one of the longest hours of his life.
Wen Ying had been frustrated with it but said that Lan Zhan deserved better than sneaking around at night. Neither of them liked it but he felt the same, he wanted Wen Ying to have a wedding, to treat him right, and he also didn’t want to tarnish Wen Ying’s reputation so early.
So they slept separately but that didn’t stop them from stealing kisses whenever the opportunity came, reveling in the closeness and making up for all the lost time.
As they’d laid in the grass, looking at the stars the night before he left he’d asked about the Burial Mounds.
Wen Ying had sighed, “I’m fine, I promise… It only impacted my core.”
His heart had stopped beating as Wen Ying took a breath and held a wrist out, gently guiding his hand so he could check his love’s qi.
“It’s Yin,” Wen Ying said gently. “It’s no different than a Yang core, but it means I don’t get resentful poisoning as easily, it means I survived.”
Then as he sat with rapt attention the story unfolded.
Wen Ying spoke gently and told him of a childhood riddled with challenges as a core unlike any other in the history of the cultivation world grew inside him. He glazed over how it formed but he understood the basic principle, it had been the burial mounds, and it had saved his life. He listened intently as his friend explained the trial and error to forge a sword that he could wield, that could mask his Yin. He painted a vivid picture of the challenge that made him an heir, and he found himself creating a new appreciation for Chenqing. With a look of pain, he explained how Wen Chao had thrown him into the burial mounds, enraged by the silver eyes that looked so much like those of a dead brother.
When Wen Ying began to explain BaYi he wasn’t sure whether he should be in awe of Wen Ying’s power, thank him for cleansing the abyss, or berate him for being so reckless.
At the end of it all Wen Ying had looked at him with an expectant silence.
“You-” he couldn’t even get the words out. The weight of what it meant slammed into him and he pulled his love into his arms crying softly as Wen Ying stroked his head gently.
“Shhh, it’s okay, let it all out.”
“You could’ve died!” he forced out between gasps as he sobbed.
“Aiya, Lan Zhan, look at me.” his eyes met Wen Ying’s, and the boy sighed, “You are never, ever getting rid of me. Do you know that? I’m going to stick to you like glue. We’re going to get married and raise kids and bunnies, I’m going to wake up with you every morning. We’ll rebuild the Cloud recesses and we will do it together. Do you understand? I am safe. You are safe. The war is over. I am right here. And I am not going anywhere.”
—------------
Too soon Lan Zhan was going to leave him.
Today was the day.
He’d said goodbye to his Lan in private, giving him a kiss and one of the bronze mirrors, asking that he look into it at eight at night in a few days' time.
He’d resisted the urge to laugh at Lan Zhan’s confused expression paired with his solemn nod before he’d carefully tucked it away in favor of kissing him.
He’d watched as the Lans departed, bringing more gold than they’d agreed to accept and several builders in tow.
He knew he’d see his Lan in a few weeks when they traveled to the Unclean Realm, that’s when they’d announce their engagement after all, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss him.
But with Lan Zhan gone, he would be able to complete the endless list of tasks that awaited him. It was something that would be helpful, he wished it wasn’t but he would be too distracted by the new relationship, it wasn’t something he could afford to do. Especially when he needed to arrange for all the displaced cultivator’s families to return and be resettled and not to mention needing to figure out which sects used to be where.
Just the thought of it made him want to let Wen Qing stick him full of needles so he didn’t have to deal with it.
—----------
A few days later the Dafan Wens arrived, they were the fourth family to return, having stayed relatively close by hiding within the Nie borders.
Wen Ning and Wen Qing had been the first to greet them, he’d been putting up the plaques when they’d arrived.
“A-yu, this is your Baba,” Granny Wen said to the small shield in her arms, probably only a year old if he was to guess.
He picked the boy up and immediately the boy clung to him and he laughed softly. “Hello, A-yu.”
“Baba,” the boy chirped.
“It’s the only word he knows,” an uncle said with a laugh, we’ve been telling him lots of stories about you.
He laughed and then Wen Ning appeared beside him.
“And who is this little radish?” he inclined his head towards the baby in his cousin’s arms.
“Wen Yuan, Third Cousin passed giving birth to him two months ago,” Wen Ning said gently, rocking the child gently.
He pursed his lips, “and her husband…”
“He died in the healers' tents after the battle with Wen Xu.”
“I saw his name,” he sighed. “Who is taking care of him?”
“Granny right now,” Wen Ning said softly. “But he will need to find a family, she tires easily as you remember.”
He nodded.
“I could take him,” he offered.
Wen Ning cast him a skeptical look, “Are you sure? You’ve already got Mo Xuanyu.”
“Wen Xuanyu,” he corrected gently. “And I think I can handle it, plus it’s good to have siblings. What do you think A-yu? Do you want A-Yuan to be your little brother?”
“Yuan,” A-yu chirped, reaching for the baby.
He laughed at Wen Ning’s shocked expression, “Well that settles it, A-Yu, A-Yuan is now your brother.”
“So when are you telling Xue Yang he’s no longer an only child?” Wen Qing said, appearing behind them and making both of them jump.
“That's not something I envy you on,” Wen Ning laughed, patting his shoulder before handing him A-Yuan and vanishing.
traitor, he thought fondly.
—-----------
The mirror glowed with a familiar light and he smiled, it was the third day of their nightly calls and he no longer jumped when the mirror flashed with golden light.
“Wen Ying,” he said fondly as his love’s face came into view.
“LAN ZHAN! We have babies now!”
“What,” he said eloquently.
“Remember A-Yu, Jin Guangshit’s bastard, the orphan?” Wen Ying said brightly.
“Mm,” came his intelligent response.
“Well I adopted him, he was staying with the Dafan Wens during the war and there was another kid, Wen Yaun, my third cousin’s kid is also orphaned and I figured it’s good to have siblings! Yuan was even A-Yu’s second word!” He could hear the excitement in his love's voice, the joy at the
“Wen Ying,” he sighed pinching his brow at the man’s spontaneousness. Though he couldn’t deny the way his heart grew warm at the thought of Wen Ying and the small children.
“Don’t worry! Don’t worry! Wen Qing is helping me right now, and don’t be jealous either! I’ll bring them to the meeting with me so they can meet their a-die!”
His ears burned and Wen Ying's laughter echoed from the mirror throughout the Jingshi.
—-----------
A few weeks had stretched into almost two months.
He’d met his sons through the bronze mirror.
A-Yu had learned the word A-die and a few others while a-Yuan had begun to eat solid foods and crawl.
He hadn’t gotten to meet them the night they’d arrived though he had been able to hold them, they’d fallen asleep on the flight over, it was truly amazing how normal Wen Ying’s core could function.
He recognized a few of the cultivators that had arrived with Wen Ying, Wen Ning, Wen Qing, Xue Yang, who had been holding A-Yu, Meng Yao, Wen Fengge, and Wen Zemin, notably without his two little brothers, and many others who'd fought alongside him but he couldn’t quite remember the names of.
Wen Ying had sat with him for the hour before nine, filling him in on the happenings of the sect that hadn’t been covered before they’d devolved into making out until he felt his body begin to feel heavy.
Wen Ying had given him a last kiss, drew him a bath, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead ribbon before wishing him goodnight and promising to see him in the morning before the meeting so he could meet their sons for real.
—--------------
Territory redrawing went better than expected (but it had taken about four days with several breaks a day in order to prevent the murder of Sect Leader Yao, who was unsurprisingly, still an ass even without Jing Guangshit to back him up).
The sects who’d been taken over and added to Qishan’s expanding territory under his father were restored with a generous gift from the Wen Sect’s treasuries to help get them back on their feet and re-establish
There had been much debate about if the Wen sect should continue to cultivate the sword path, well, it had really just been Sect Leader Yao and Jin Zixun causing problems but no one backed them so they eventually shut up. He was so thankful he’d put Xue Yang on babysitting duty because heavens knew the boy could not control his mouth or temper. Lan Zhan had looked close to punching them though, and he had half a mind to let him, it would be hot.
Everyone was slowly parting for on the last day, the discussions had finished just before lunch, but the major sect leaders stayed behind, there was after all, still one final matter to discuss.
Slowly, the sect leaders trickled out until he, Wen Ning and Wen Qing, the Jades of Lan plus their uncle, the Jiang main family, Jin Zixuan, Madam Jin, and finally Meng Yao since he was deemed a close enough to neutral while still trustworthy party.
“So…?” Jin Zixuan prompted.
“We,” Jiang Fengamin said calmly, “thought it might be a good idea to reforge alliances but we didn’t want to make it a whole public spectacle.”
Meng Yao sighed and pinched his nose, “doe anyone know how to start?”
“I’ve got an idea or two,” Nie Huaisang smiled behind his fan, he was still keeping up the meek act but too many people had seen his masterful commanding of the wards during their various trips back from the front for treatment to fall for it now. “As we all know the Jiangs and Jins are already established.” Everyone nodded and hummed their agreement.
“So is our presence really needed? We’ve already reestablished the engagement between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli with the consent of both parties.” Madam Jin pointed out.
“Not really, but we didn’t want you to feel we were cutting you out, especially as a newly established sect leader.” He nodded at Jin Zixuan just to make sure they were picking up what he was putting down.
“Such consideration is greatly appreciated but we must begin the process of finding more of my siblings,” Jin Zixuan bowed as did Madam Jin. “We will now take our leave.”
Once the Jins had left and the door had swung shut firmly behind them the conversation continued.
“What did you have in mind?” Madam Yu said as she folded her arms over her chest, but not in an aggressive or challenging manner surprisingly.
“Your son is courting Wen Qing, no?” Nie Huaisang said politely like he didn’t already know the answer.
Both parties blushed but nodded.
“Then may I recommend a courtship announcement or an engagement should both parties be willing?” Nie Huaisang said carefully, both of them had rather fiery tempers and no one wanted a fight to break out.
“This is acceptable,” the Jiangs nodded after having a quick conversation with their son who was now a cherry red.
He glanced over at Wen Qing, she gave a nod and from beside her Wen Ning shrugged. “We also find this suitable,” he said calmly, he wasn’t about to use his family as a political pawn but his cousin had had an interest in the Jiang Heir and who was he to stand in the way of her much-deserved happiness?
“Excellent,” Nie Huaisang clapped his hands.
The Jiangs bowed, thanking everyone for their time but they would like to get back to Lotus Pier to begin Wedding preparation for both of their children as well as oversee the building that had happened in their absence.
Everyone nodded and wished them safe travels.
He, however, was not going to let Nie Huaisang off the hook.
“Huaisang, Wen Ning,” he said calmly, lightly, he knew his cousin guessed it immediately based on the sigh that came from the boy. “Do you have something you want to tell us?”
Immediately Nie Huaisand stiffened minutely and Wen Ning turned a faint shade of pink.
“A-Ning?” Wen Qing ordered and asked in the way only an older sister could.
“We- uh… We um…” the poor boy stuttered out, he decided to spare his right-hand man Wen Qing’s horrifying interrogation.
“Whose planning on proposing?” he said with a small laugh which earned him a wack upside the head from Wen Qing and a scowl from Nie Huaisang.
“What?” Nie Mingjue said, looking bewildered before the realization set in. “Huaisang,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It would’ve been nice to tell me this sooner.”
“Sorry da-ge,” said the younger Nie, not sounding sorry at all.
“I was,” Wen Ning said softly and he froze before bursting out laughing.
“Besides,” Nie Huaisang said smugly as he glared at his brother. “You and Xichen have an announcement too don’t you?”
That earned a sigh from Lan Xichen and a smack upside the head from Nie Mingjue.
“Guess that just leaves Lan Zhan and me!” he said cheerfully holding up his wrist, his sleeve slipped down and pooled at his elbow to reveal a white Lan forehead ribbon, “and we’re engaged.”
At that Lan Qiren sighed, looking so very much like a farmer who’d lost all his Napa cabbages.
Notes:
ta-da?
also, should I write a wedding scene next chapter? I'm on the fence as I was just planning on skipping years down the line
Chapter 25: Not Long at All
Summary:
The end is near!
thank you so much for reading this far, I hope you consider it to be worth it :)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Everything is ready,” Wen Ning said calmly from where he stood by the door with his arms crossed. He was wearing formal robes of black and green, he often mixed the colors of his and his husband’s sect but he didn’t want to be wearing red when he was standing holding the ancestral tablets at a wedding for his cousin.
Personally, he hadn’t cared but he also figured it was his way of reinforcing his ties to both the Nie and Wen Sects, something he understood as his younger cousin’s wedding had been a small (but lavish because of course Nie Huaisang had designed the robes personally) and thus only family and a few friends had been in attendance.
“Okay,” he said, not able to turn and look at his friends Wen Mingli and Wen Qiuyue as the two carefully arranged the elaborate hair piece in his hair. It was a beautiful work, elaborately made with dozens of intricate lilies, it was a modification of the traditional Wen Sect Leader’s headpiece, something he only wore for important events.
Today was an important event for two reasons.
One, he was, most importantly getting married to his incredible, wonderful, perfect, handsome, sexy, loving, sweet, adorable, fiance, he’d run out of adjectives, but his Lan Zhan.
But two, this was, as much as he and Lan Zhan hated it, was also an important political move. It showed the wealth and power that his sect still maintained, it reestablished the Lans as one of the main sects once more, showing they’d recovered from the fire, especially when paired with Lan Xichen’s marriage to Nie Mingjue. It showed the bond between the Wens and Lans but also the importance of the marriage to himself, the amount of money invested showed the cultivation world just how much he loved his soon-to-be husband. He didn’t like that money was how they measured his love but he had no issue showering Lan Zhan with gifts, nor did he have any issue with all the cultivation world knowing just how much he loved, loves, the incredible man. He’d told his disciples to keep it tasteful and run ideas by him and his fiance or Jiang Qing but otherwise to go all out.
They’d taken that as a challenge.
No expense was spared.
His robes were a rich crimson fabric a combination of Lotus and Mulberry silk, the highest quality fabric money could buy. The sheer volume of fabric was utterly ridiculous, long flowing tresses of fabric cascaded from the sleeves, making even the most subtle of movements a dramatic affair. They were lightweight thankfully, and incredibly durable, there were protective talismans lining every seem to ensure it stayed pristine. Across every inch were intricately embroidered designs in both red and gold, clouds and lilies bordered the edges, and phoenixes and dragons spiraled across the chest and back of the robes in patterns so detailed it looked as if they were mere seconds from bursting free of their silk confines and soaring into the sky. Mountains, rivers, and entire worlds were inlaid in the fabric with the utmost care, stories displayed from both the Wen and Lan Sects.
He had to admit, his sect could certainly plan a wedding.
He’d had to fight to wear the headpiece of the sect leader, those who were planning and dressing him worrying that the piece was too simple, (a truly ridiculous notion) but he’d begged them and thankfully they’d relented.
They paid attention to every single detail imaginable.
They worried about things he didn't even know would be of concern.
The Fire Lily Palace was covered in red and gold decorations, from paths to ceilings to alcoves long forgotten everything had been decorated. Lanterns, ribbons, and kites all shown in the light. Some of the Fire Lilies from the gardens had been cut to decorate the buildings and fill the air with their fragrant scent. He could even see the last-minute finishing touches on the decorations in the gardens out of the corner of his eye.
“All done!” Wen Mingli said cheerfully, the healer stepping back with a smile as Wen Qiuyue clapped her hands excitedly.
“It looks so good!”
“Thank you both,” he said with a smile, shifting slightly to stretch, he knew better than to rub his neck which was sore as he’d already gotten his hand slapped away on multiple occasions. “I really appreciate all the help.”
“Of course!”
“It’s an honor!”
“Everyone here knows having help with your wedding is nice,” Wen Ning said calmly, the other three nodding in agreement, all of them having already been married.
He was the last of the major weddings.
The Wens had gotten married as soon as they could, as did many other cultivators whose weddings were not political pageants he assumed. And not that he could blame them, he had joked with Lan Zhan about eloping on more than one occasion, especially as the planning kicked up and the wait stretched to almost two years, as there was a certain amount of time between major weddings out of politeness.
Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan were married first in Koi Tower, and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue were married in the Cloud Recesses a few weeks after that. Wen Qing had married Jiang Cheng in Lotus Pier and he had not cried, neither did Wen Ning or Xue Yang. Absolutely no tears were shed, none. Wen Ning had married Nie Huaisang next and it had been Wen Qing’s turn to hold back tears which she’d done valiantly throughout the ceremony.
“How much time?” he asked, as he carefully made his way to the door and his cousin.
“Three minutes,” he said lightly. “I’m going to go and wrangle A-Yu and A-Yuan.”
“Best of luck,” he laughed as his cousin and two friends left the room.
He paced for a minute, adjusting to the robes so he wouldn’t trip and mentally going over the ceremony in his head. He wasn’t going to mess this up, he had left his traditional gift in what would become their shared quarters, and the whole cultivation world didn’t need to see him give his husband the item from his father.
With a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders and checked the mirror before pushing the doors open and stepping out into the hall where he would meet his husband so they could walk in together per tradition.
—------------
His brother was helping him get ready, two Wen disciples had stopped by to offer help, Wen Ying having personally picked them because he knew Lan Zhan was familiar with them. He’d declined but thanked them, smiling to himself that Wen Ying had still remembered such a thing even with all of his duties.
His Wen Ying.
His soon-to-be husband.
He hadn't gotten to see as much of the man he loved as he would’ve liked. He knew it was selfish, but with Wen Ying he allowed himself to be, and his love never protested, in fact, he seemed to relish in it. No matter how busy the day was he would always make time, would call him on the bronze mirror, or if he was visiting, as he often did, he’d take the long way to meetings just to see him and give him a chaste kiss before vanishing off to wherever his duties required him to be. It was heart-warmingly domestic.
He couldn’t wait for it to become their every day, though hopefully, his partner’s work as the Wen Sect Leader would lighten up.
Wen Ying had to tackle the insurmountable project of repairing a sect, rebuilding it from the ground up with the added step of tearing it all down. The man had an endless stream of tasks and while he did his best to help when he could he was in awe of the mind of his soon-to-be cultivation partner, granted he always was, but this was just another reason.
Wen Ying had restructured all disciple training, aided in the repairs of both the Lan and Jiang sects, and attended each wedding both major and minor, even helping to plan Wen Nings to Nie Huaisang and Wen Qing’s to Jiang Wanyin on top of theirs. He'd resettled those he’d evacuated from Nightless City and was now beginning to face the daunting task of attempting to right the wrongs of his father and brothers. He invented new talismans with Xue Yang to help make things easier on those within his sect, he intervened in territory disputes between the reestablishing minor clans that lined the border, and on top of it all he still made the time to raise their sons with the utmost care and affection.
He visited as often as he could, spending time with their sons, watching as they grew and slowly began to speak, first words then thoughts.
He’d never really imagined himself as a father, or even married for that matter, especially not with how disastrous his parents’ marriage and parenting had been, he’d always worried he would make the same mistake, would damage a child, would be like his parents. Yet Wen Ying had handled it effortlessly, both raising the boys and also helping him slowly figure it out, his fiance was truly an angel.
“How are you feeling a-Zhan?” his brother asked, standing in front of him with a slightly watery smile that had him making a face of concern.
“They’re happy tears Wangji,” his brother laughed, “my didi is all grown up and getting married.”
His ears flushed, “Brother.”
He tried to sound scolding, he really did, but even his brother could hear the obvious smile in his voice which only made the man across from him grin even more.
“Are you excited?” his brother asked gently, the teasing lilt replaced with nothing but sincerity.
“Mm,” he said, unable to find the words to express quite how he felt.
“It’s okay to be nervous you know,” his brother said to him which made him look up.
How did he know?
“Don’t look so surprised Wangji, you saw how I was before I married A-jue,” his brother said lightly.
He did remember, he’d never seen his brother look so anxious, even Xichen hadn’t known why, he’d kept pacing repeating to himself he loved Nie Mingjue so why was he so nervous? It had been a question on his mind too, something he couldn’t understand, until today that is.
He’d risen at five and gone through his usual routine, then his brother had arrived, flanked by several Wens, a mixture of servants and disciples. They’d been carrying seemingly endless amounts of red fabric which was, admittedly, the most luxurious thing he’d ever touched (and he’d stayed at koi tower).
He was honestly scared to know how much the wedding had cost, the Wens had refused to tell the Lans, wouldn’t let them help pay, they’d been insistent the Lans had enough to pay for already with the Nie-Lan wedding and their families did burn down the cloud recesses. They’d quickly learned that while Lans could be stubborn, and so could the nies, the Wens took it to a level that honestly scared him. Each disciple was steadfast, headstrong, and loyal to their sect as strong as he was to Wen Ying, it made sense why they had become the most powerful. They truly stuck to their loyalties, no matter what.
He’d pulled on the robes, marveling at the lightness of the material, his brother had helped him with his hair, working the intricate hairpins into place. Their craftsmanship was just as splendid as the robes, lilies, and clouds carefully engraved in each pin. He’d slipped his metal charm from his traditional ribbon and instead placed it on the red one the Wens had provided him. He’d almost used the one that had belonged to Wen Ying’s mother but then remembered that was considered to be a private tradition, not something displayed so he’d kept it on his wrist, covered by the long sleeves.
There’d been five knocks on the door, the five-minute warning he’d been informed of.
“I should get going then,” his brother said with a smile, “you’ll be seeing your husband very soon.”
He was left alone with his thoughts as the door shut gently behind his brother.
Mentally he checked off if he’d done everything.
He had the oil from Wen Qing.
He’d brought the Lan ribbon for Wen Ying.
His uncle had brought the tablets of his mother and father.
He’d brought something from his father.
His brother had brought ribbons for his sons and had added their names to the family lineage.
He’d brought something from his mother.
He now just needed to make it through the ceremony without doing something stupid.
—------------
The doors before them opened and he squeezed the Lan’s arm.
Since neither was a bride they’d decided to walk in together, he was immensely grateful he could see his lan zhan before they’d stepped into the full view of the cultivation world.
They’d had just over a minute together, basking in each other's presence and analyzing the appearance of the other, he’d focused on memorizing each detail. He’d want to paint this later, maybe he could gift it as an anniversary present to Lan Zhan.
He was also immensely relieved they didn’t have to wait long because it took everything in him not to just whisk the man off to their shared quarters and strip him of his robes and decor him.
But alas he couldn’t.
So instead he linked arms with the Lan who had been staring at him with eyes so full of love and adoration it made him want to hide away, he could feel the slight blush that had begun to spread across his cheeks before he’d manage to take a few calming breaths.
He fought the urge to cry at the beauty of his soon-to-be husband, he was truly the luckiest man alive.
He was smiling so much it hurt as he stepped into what used to be the throne room.
A long aisle stretched to a small dias which had been installed specifically for the wedding (and would be removed shortly after as it resembled the old throne room in the slightest way). Lining the aisle were the sects, seated at decorated tables in their finest robes.
Red banners hung from the walls, covered in symbols of luck, joy, and blessings, and lanterns hung from the ceiling, providing a soft glow for when the sun finally set, something it was just beginning to do now, casting the entirety of the hall in its soft glow.
Along the walls guards stood, stationed in between the doors that had been opened to allow the breeze and sunlight entrance, disciples dressed in their finest robes and their hands on the sheaths of their swords. There’d been a concern, rumors, that resentment lingered towards Wen Ruohan and might be inflicted on the new Wen Sect Leader. He had Chenqing in his sleeve should anything happen and every guest was armed as well, so it would be only a minor inconvenience.
He focused his eyes straight ahead as the music began, he and Lan Zhan began to walk down the red carpet laid out before them.
At the end of the aisle were their families, Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Qiren on Lan Zhan’s side holding the plaques for his mother and father. On his side were Wen Ning, Wen Qing, and Xue Yang, the plaques of his mother, which were hiding those of his father and brother. He had spoken with Lan Zhan about it and asked if it was okay, especially with what Wen Xu had done, Lan, in all his incredibleness, had told him if it mattered to him then he would do anything. He figured the only reason Lan Zhan was okay with it was because of the revelation of the ribbon, not that he minded. He was incredibly relieved he could still include his father’s and eldest brother’s name plaques in the ceremony. In the middle, between the two families were their two sons. Wen Yuan who was now two and Wen Xuanyu who was now three.
He knew it probably only took them thirty seconds to reach the other end but it felt like the longest walk of his life.
He relished in every second of it but he also wished that they could pass infinitely faster.
He’d waited for years.
He could stand to wait a few more minutes.
—-----------
As he knelt beside Wen Ying he could only hear his heartbeat.
He couldn’t hear the word spoken and didn’t really care to either.
His attention was solely focused on the shard of heaven that kneeled beside him.
When Wen Ying had stepped into view before they’d walked down the aisle he could hardly breathe.
His love looked so ethereal.
All the wait had been worth it even if he just had this moment.
If he died where he stood, his breath stolen by the so-called demon that stood before him he would’ve gone happily.
He shook himself from his thoughts and in sync with Wen Ying they made their first bow.
To the heaven and the earth, to their ancestors.
They straightened slowly, arms raised outright in front of them in respect.
He’d waited for the next two bows for four years since he’d tied the ribbon to the wrist of the man beside him in the cold pond cave and they bowed to Lady Yi.
They bowed again.
To parents for their everlasting love and care.
Again they rose.
Then, they turned, facing one another.
Wen Ying caught his eye and gave him a small smile but the joy that shown from it was brighter than the sun, was more radiant than koi tower, and was so so unadulteratedly happy that he ached in his chest.
They bowed, for the final time.
To their everlasting love for each other.
He tied the extra ribbon around Wen Ying’s wrist, making them married in the Lan sect.
He didn’t even wait for the words as he pulled his husband in for a searing kiss as cheers erupted from the halls and fireworks exploded outside.
Finally.
His husband.
His.
—------------
The couple had managed to slip away three hours into the banquet.
They’d finished their meals and then exchanged pleasantries with everyone they were expected to, from family to friends, to important members of other sects. They stayed just long enough to be considered polite before they slipped away through one of the many doors, cutting through the garden to get back to Wen Ying’s their quarters.
The Wens knew how to party many returning to their rooms barely coherent as the sun crept up over the horizon, and even more festivities would carry on for several days.
The second the door closed behind them Wen Ying had pinned his husband to it, pressing close, showering the Lan with kisses, pressing opened-mouthed ones to his neck. Leaving a trail of purple marks as the Lan ripped off his ribbon, not bothering to fold it as he quickly worked to remove his husband’s hairpiece followed by his robes.
Quickly the control shifted and Lan Zhan soon was leaning over the slightly shorter man both of them completely bare to one another, panting as their movements increased in speed.
“Oil,” Wen Ying panted out, breaking the kiss just long enough for Lan Zhan to reach over and grab the jar.
Gently the Wen sect leader guided his husband’s hand. He’d explained rather awkwardly that he wouldn’t be pure for their wedding night, a few months before the wedding. He’d explained he’d had both men and women, explained the drunken escapades his father not only encouraged but arranged.
Yet he’d promised Lan Zhan something special.
Something just for him.
So he steadily guided his husband’s hand to his fluttering hole.
They would switch many times that night and in the nights to come but this was something solely for Lan Zhan.
—------------
The couple was seated in the back mountains of the Cloud recesses, in a sea of black and white fur.
Their sons had grown, both having formed their cores at the same age as their fathers.
With their sons' golden cores glowing brightly in their chests, Wen Ying and Lan Zhan had begun the careful preparation of their lessons. Had sent the orders in for their swords to begin the long process of traditional forging.
Wen Wuxian changed the age of the challenges, it wouldn’t be an issue for eight more years but he’d long known he’d do this. The deadline was extended by three years and removed as a requirement to become a sect heir but was rather viewed as a way for one to reflect on their preparedness.
They had, also, decided to train the boys in every sword style they could, just as Wen Ying had been, so their two children were off training with the Lans (and meeting their soon-to-be third brother Jingyi).
“You know how I asked you about immortality?” Wen Wuxian’s question came unexpectedly, lingering between the pair.
“Mm,” came the response. “I said I did not mind so long as it was with Wen Ying.”
With a deep breath, Wen Wuxian interlaced his fingers and asked, “You’re nearing it aren’t you?”
The Lan froze, fingers stilling over the bunny they’d just been stroking gently.
The silence was confession enough, “I’ve been trying to slow it,” Lan Wangji answered slowly, voice sounding full of sorrow.
That caused a small chuckle to escape the Wen Sect Leader, “Aiya, Lan Zhan, don’t worry about it!”
The man in black and blue looked at him, confusion was evident in his golden eyes.
Wen Wuxian adopted a serious expression and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his crossed legs. “Remember the conversation I had with Wen Qing a few years ago and then went to the Burial Mounds on an emergency trip?”
“Mm.”
It had been quite a traumatic moment for Lan Wangji, for his husband to leave so suddenly without warning, his only solace being Wen Qign assuring him everything was fine. The only answer when his love returned was that it had simply been a false alarm and he mentioned he wanted to cleanse the burial mounds someday.
“Well…” the Wen took a deep breath, gaze fixed on the ground he explained it as simply as he could. “I learned that when I- my mother was little she came in contact with the yin iron.” he twisted a blade of grass between his fingers and the Lan reached out, squeezing his husband’s hand in reassurance. With a sigh the man continued, “A part of it imprinted on her in a sense, attached to her core, it caused a lot of health issues as she grew older…. It’s probably what killed her.”
His partner stilled but the Wen didn’t stop, knowing if he stopped explaining his partner would be left with unnecessary worry.
“She, uh, when she had me the exposure passed onto me, I was born with that imprint in my soul. So… when I went to the burial mounds that energy had already tainted my core…” He glanced up at the golden-eyed man to find a slightly pained expression on his face. “It let the mounds make my core go from Yang to yin without breaking it. So I… Uh, the Yin Iron considers me to be the fifth piece?”
“Wen Ying.”
Get to the point.
You’re worrying me.
Are you okay?
“So uh, basically, I never needed to cultivate to immortality… I just need to… uh… absorb BaYi into my core and I’ll be immortal?” then in a rush, he said, “I didn't tell you because I didn’t want to stress you by making you feel like you needed to cultivate faster or out and I am completely content to grow old and wrinkly by your side.”
“Wen Ying,” this time relief colored the man's voice as he pulled the smaller one into his lap, kissing him fiercely.
“Want Wen Ying, forever.”
“Alright Lan Zhan, no take-backsies though! Now you’re stuck with me!” the man laughed, throwing his head back as he did so.
“Mm,” came the response with a small smile.
It’s only forever, not long at all.
Fin.
also, I found this gif but never figured out where to put it so here it is :)
Notes:
I don't really write smut so idk if I should remove that section
Chapter 26: Bonus: Apparitions and Apologies
Summary:
Death isn't ever really the end, so what if Wen Ying didn't have to say goodbye to someone he lost?
a ghostly visit over a game of weiqi (also called go) might just help a grieving sect leader heal
Notes:
I made a few edits, most notably there is an added scene in chapter 18, you might want to go back and read it though it may spoil who the ghostly visitor is ;)
if that’s too much work then no worries! it won’t leave any major plot holes in this chapter :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
With a barely audible groan, he set down his brush and rolled his wrist, wincing when it made a slight popping sound, in his drafting and/or signing of orders for materials for the Jiang and Lan Clans’ repairs, responding to wedding invitations, and signing new laws for the sect he was doing more writing in the past few months than eh had in his entire life. He often worked late into the night as he didn’t want to waste the hours his sons were up with sect business, when they were with friends, sleeping, or being watched by Granny or some other family member he worked, trying to rebuild his sect all while stripping it of the unjust laws.
There were a lot apparently, even if they weren’t followed or were generally forgotten he wanted them struck from the record, even with the help of Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Meng Yao, and his other advisors it was a project that would take several months and he needed to read and approve each change personally.
He glanced at the incense stick, now long burnt out, he could only guess how long he’d been working this time. He’d sat down sometime after 7 or so, having spoken to Lan Zhan through the brass mirror as he ate with their sons, Lan Zhan didn’t eat, as he wouldn’t have been able to speak with them if he had been. He hoped that his Lan wouldn’t continue to follow such a rule after they were married and he was able to move into the Fire Lily Palace, he wasn’t sure he could stand silent meals, yes he liked to talk and Lan Shan liked to listen to him but one-sided meals reminded him of when he ate with his father, brothers, cousins, and stepmothers when his father had snapped earlier in the day. Everyone eating in silent fear waiting for his father to snap again, so he used to fill the silence, try and coax a light-hearted conversation with mixed success. He’d need to mention such a thing to Lan Zhan he supposed, he wouldn’t force the Lan to change his behavior if he wished to still follow the rules of his sect, but he couldn’t imagine his sons following the same rules.
Stretching as he stood, he pushed open the doors to his office and nodded a greeting to the guards who did the same to him. Making his way through the halls he found his feet tracing the familiar path to the library under the soft glow of the talismans that were carved into the designs on the ceiling.
The Library instantly lit up as the doors were pushed open, the talismans responding to the movement, it was lined from floor to ceiling with books, both short and long, and the windows, which normally welcomed the sunlight instead welcomed the pale light of the moon and the twinkling stars. Due to the lack of clouds this time of year, the temperature changed drastically between day and night, giving the room a nice chill that would last until the late morning before the heat of the sun finally won out. The Library was largely unchanged, now only slightly lighter due to a change in wall color but otherwise still arranged in the same manner, with balconies and ladders every so often to allow people full access to the depths of its collection, beneath his feet he knew it extended several more floors, holding books far older and more sensitive to changes in light and temperature.
Yet he wasn’t here to read, instead, he traced the familiar path to a remote and quiet corner, where a table and two seats were, on the table was a weiqi board, the one on which he had first learned to play, his father had taught him but seldom played. His real teachers had been Zhao Zhuliu (when he wasn’t on an assignment) and the other had been his eldest brother.
Before he knew it he found himself sitting across from the seat that his brother always occupied, it had been Wen Xu’s favorite due to its perfect combination of light, and breeze, and was also a defendable position as its back was to a wall but wasn’t cornered.
Sighing he stared down at the Weiqi board before returning his gaze to where his brother’s face would always be during their games, passive with a slight furrow if Wen Ying was doing unusually well, looking intently down at the board as his brother strategically backed him into forced win after forced win.
He picked up one of the smooth black stones from one of the two silk pouches that rested one on each side of the board, placing it on the first diagonal from the center with a soft click before he stared down at his hands and sighed, “I don’t know if I ever said this, but thank you da-ge.”
He never felt like the ancestral hall was where his brother was closest, rather it was in here, in Wen Xu's favorite spot in the entire palace, perhaps the entire sect or even the cultivation world, tucked away amongst the books sitting where they always used to, was where it felt like his brother was, but just out of reach.
A soft click echoed through the silent library, the sound of smooth stone on wood, his head immediately shot up at the sound, eyes finding a white piece resting on the board too.
“I never wanted thanks, A-Ying,” the voice was warm but slightly admonishing, “All I really ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
The resentful energy in the room rose, it wasn’t malignant, in fact, it was almost kind, so he made no effort to stop it, and slowly a figure formed, starting at the crossed legs and working its way up to the head, a thin silvery line appeared on the neck and at last a face he thought he’d never see again formed, smiling wryly. “I’m nowhere near as good as you, or even Fuqin was, but I think I’m not half bad at demonic cultivation.”
At that moment he’d never been more relieved he could touch resentful ghosts, shoving the table aside he dove at the ghost, pulling the silvery being into a hug, pouring more Yin Energy into the apparition so it wouldn’t disappear. Slightly too cool sleeves wrapped around him as he buried his face in the cold fabric of the ghost’s shoulder, he managed to hold himself together until he felt a hand softly stroking his hair.
“It’s okay A-Ying,” Wen Xu said quietly, using the same voice he used to use when comforting him after a nightmare when he’d returned from the Burial Mounds the first time, when he woke up screaming about dogs. “It’s okay, I’m right here…. I’ll always be right here.”
The dam broke at that and his shoulders shook as he sobbed, mumbling out incoherent apologies about anything and everything. Every fight, every insult, every sour look and rude gesture, it ranged from stealing a candy when they were children to not doing enough to save him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the fabric, like if he just said it enough his brother would become real, would draw breath once more.
“I forgive you A-Ying,” his brother said softly, never once stopping the soothing pets to his head, it made him feel like a child rather than a sect leader, but he didn’t want it to stop, he wanted to live in this tranquility for as long as he could.
“B-but I could’ve stopped it,” he finally managed to get out as he pulled back slightly and desperately worked to get control over his emotions and voice but not quite succeeding. “You know what I did”
“Fuqin was always too stubborn and he was far past reason,” came the easy response as Wen Xu gently wiped his tears with the corner of his sleeve.
“I should’ve protected you,” he protested, “I should’ve protected the soldiers under Fuqin.”
“A-Ying,” his brother sighed softly, sounding more sad than upset, “you always grew up too fast.”
“Huh?”
“You-“ his brother heaved a frustrated sigh, well, as much as a ghost can sigh that is, but the intent was there, “You carry so much on your shoulders, you’ve got to remember other people can carry the load and often want to.”
“But-“
Wen Xu held up a finger and immediately Wen Ying shut his mouth on reflex.
“It doesn’t make you a burden A-Ying it makes you human, I’m sorry I never taught you that.”
“You taught me so much-“
“But not how to stop A-Ying,” came the gentle reproach.
“I- I still should’ve protected you! I-I could’ve- I could’ve gotten corpses to do something to shield you! Or-“
“You weren’t there,” came the firm but kind reply.
That made him pause before cautiously asking “How do you know?”
“You think I wouldn’t recognize my baby brother's dizi? That a demonic cultivator would use the same type and method by chance? I figured you had your reasons, and besides,” he was about to open his mouth to protest but Wen Xu shot him a look and he quickly swallowed his retort. “Even if it wasn’t rational I would’ve taken any chance that you were alive with both hands and held on tight, it’s what kept me together, that my baby brother was alive.”
“Why didn’t you join me then?” He hated how small he sounded, but he had to know, “If you knew, why didn’t you?”
“Should the war have been lost I would’ve been next in line after Fuqin, he was wasting away, I couldn’t leave the sect in his clutches, you need to remember A-Ying, that before you came along the SunShot Campaign wasn’t really capable of standing up to Fuqin, with the armies, and, well... the Yin Iron.”
“Oh”
“Yeah, ‘oh’” his brother teased good-naturedly earning a watery chuckle.
“Thank you by the way,” he said after a pause.
“For what?” Wen Xu tilted his head slightly, something that Wen Ying realized only now, that he’d picked up from his brother.
“Keeping your promise,” seeing his brother’s confusion he decided to elaborate further, “You saved Lan Zhan’s life.”
“He’s your one,” Wen Xu shrugged, “Once I knew it I knew I’d defend him to my dying breath.”
“Da-ge-“
“Nu-uh don’t you start crying again,” the teasing tone returned once more, “we all knew I don’t do that.”
“Shut up,” he said with a smile as he wiped his eyes and willed himself not to start crying all over again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother this relaxed, this… alive.
With a small smile, Wen Xu picked up a black stone and dropped it into his hand, a slight challenging quirk on his brow as he silently asked if they were to carry on.
In lieu of a response, he placed it on yet another corner and the two quickly settled into their usual pace, placing their stones and attempting to thwart each other’s plans.
“I win” Wen Xu smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms.
“Shocking as always” came the dry response.
“No one likes a sore loser A-Ying~”
“So how’d you do this?” He said instead of rising to the bait, gesturing at the dark silver form his brother had taken on.
“Oh pretty simple, I tied my soul here-“
“YOU WHAT?!”
“-only part of it, I’m not really bound here!” His brother quickly exclaimed, placing a hand on either one of his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.
Once he got a handle on himself he asked rather softly, “So you’re moving on after this?”
“Not quite, just move a piece and I’ll appear, it’s a bit like knocking on a door and I can choose to answer,” his brother explained slowly, “I didn’t want to scare the servants you know.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“I’m not an idiot A-Ying, I wasn’t going to throw away my afterlife for something that might not work.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Mr. ‘I-read-every-informational-book-in-the-library.’”
“Well, I don’t want to waste too much of your time Sect Leader ‘I-tamed-the-Burial-Mounds’-“
“Shut up-“
“-I’m sure you’re incredibly busy with the planning of your wedding, but it was lovely to see you and bring my nephews by from time to time, hm? I’d love to meet them and teach them to play too.”
“I will,” he promised, fingers raised to his forehead, making his brother chuckle slightly.
Slowly his brother’s apparition began to dissolve, “A-Ying?”
“Mhm”
“Remember, I’m always looking out for you,” his brother paused as if reconsidering before amending, “well, almost always.”
The last thing he saw before his brother completely faded away was a slight smirk, eyes sparkling with a mischief he rarely got to see.
—————————
“Lan Zhan?”
“Mm,” came the questioning hum in response.
“Could I talk to you about what memorial plaques will be at our wedding?”
Notes:
I hope you liked this!
It kind of just hit me right as I was about to fall asleep and I wrote it like right away
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