Work Text:
‘Wow.’ Wei Wuxian stood with hands on hips, an eager wind blowing his hair and his robes, and gazed around what used to be a forest. Probably. ‘What do you think happened here?’
Lan Wangji tilted his head, a barely-perceptible motion. Wei Wuxian could read the confusion in his blank face.
‘Something awfully big,’ Wei Wuxian continued. That much was obvious from the damage, at least, since whatever it was had knocked down an entire grove’s worth of trees and left a crater in the ground the size of a large fishing boat.
‘And angry,’ Lan Wangji agreed, which was also obvious from the amount of lingering resentment suffusing the air around them. He sounded puzzled, at least to Wei Wuxian’s ears, when he added, ‘There have been no reports of any trouble near this area at all.’
Well that was true; they were really just meant to be passing by, but this, too, technically had an easy explanation. ‘There aren’t any villages around to bother,’ Wei Wuxian pointed out, ‘and not too many travellers, either. Probably nobody noticed.’
Lan Wangji made a small noise of agreement, but he didn’t look pleased about any of it. ‘We should investigate what we can. At least,’ he added dryly, ‘find out what it is we’re dealing with. If it is something we are unable to manage together….’
‘If we can’t manage it together, we’ve got bigger problems,’ Wei Wuxian said dryly. It wasn’t being boastful, he thought, to consider them two of the most powerful cultivators in the jianghu. ‘Well, let’s see what we can find.’
Lan Wangji tilted his head again and summoned his guqin from his bag. ‘Unless Wei Ying would prefer….?’ he began, letting the words trail off.
Wei Wuxian shook his head. ‘Well try your way first.’ There was more than enough resentment around here to get answers from, but he was a little concerned about attracting this unknown monster’s attention if he poked at it too much. ‘You ask, I’ll look around.’
Lan Wangji began to play, and Wei Wuxian poked through the wreckage of fallen trees. The guqin’s soothing song cleared some of the haze of resentment, and Wei Wuxian could feel his muscles relaxing, the dull throbbing ache at the tip of his spine beginning to fade away. He stepped carefully between shattered branches, nudging away the piles of leaves and debris. He was hardly even paying attention when he felt something… respond.
Something deep below the dirt and fallen tree roots. Something buried. Something dead.
‘Lan Zhan!’ he let out, before he could stop himself. His husband looked up at him, but didn’t stop playing. Which was good. Wei Wuxian hadn’t meant to interrupt him.
But he let his awareness sink down into the ground, felt his way through the clouds of resentment and the barrier of dirt, and felt something stir. A lot of somethings, actually, all very confused about being disturbed.
‘Lan Zhan,’ he said, straightening, ‘this is a graveyard!’ He swung back toward Lan Wangji, giving the solid-packed dirt a good stomp with one foot. ‘Why is there a graveyard here if there’s no village? No buildings? No people?’ He spun in a slow circle around the hills he could now tell were old graves.
‘There must have been people once,’ Lan Wangji offered, his hands stilling on the strings of his guqin. He adds, ‘But now, no one is answering.’
Which didn’t surprise Wei Wuxian. Despite the roiling remnants of resentful energy suffusing the place, none of it actually came from the graves themselves. ‘That makes sense, I guess.’ He bounded back down the slope to rejoin Lan Wangji. ‘All the dead here are sleeping pretty peacefully, I don’t think it was them.’
Lan Wangji’s pretty mouth tightened into a thin line, and he nodded slightly. ‘Then we continue?’ he offered. Wei Wuxian nodded, looping their arms together.
‘Let’s go over what we know,’ he suggested, and Lan Wangji agreed — but the problem was, what they knew didn’t total much. ‘Something very big and very angry did a lot of smashing, over what used to be a graveyard, but doesn’t seem to be attached to any villages or temples or anything. These things also don’t seem to be related, since the resentment barely woke up any of the bodies. None of them answered ‘Inquiry’. We could dig them up and ask them questions,’ he added, and Lan Wangji shot him a disapproving look, ‘and we’ll keep that on hand if we need it — but I got the idea they just wanted to stay asleep in the ground and not be bothered.’ He flashed a teasing grin. ‘See? I can be discreet, Lan Zhan!’
‘Mm,’ Lan Wangji countered, dubious, his hand resting with gentle possessiveness at the small of Wei Wuxian’s back.
‘Mm?’ Wei Wuxian echoed with an indignant squeal. ‘How dare!’ But he laughed, leaning into his husband as they walked. ‘Now, the large angry thing might have just wandered this way on its own — even monsters can get lost — but in that case, there should have been some report about it from one of the areas nearby. Can you think of anything like that?’
Lan Wangji’s mouth tensed in thought, but after a moment’s silence he shook his head. ‘Not for years,’ he confirmed. ‘And not nearby. Also, the creature was dealt with at the time.’
‘Really?’ Wei Wuxian perked up. ‘What was it?’
Another slight, sorrowful shake of the head. ‘I do not know the details,’ Lan Wangji admitted. ‘It was many years ago. I was…otherwise occupied.’
‘Ah.’ An old familiar anger flooded Wei Wuxian’s body. He did nothing with it, just as he always did nothing with it, because it was useless to make a fuss now over things that happened while he was dead. Especially when Lan Zhan was the only one to make a fuss to. ‘Well, if you say they took care of it, then it won’t be that. Besides, if it took that long, again, someone would have noticed. Further away, maybe?’
He went on in much the same manner as the sun’s cloud-grey light moved languidly across the sky and began to dip toward the trees. His stomach rumbled once, and Lan Wangji gave him a concerned look that Wei Wuxian decided to take full advantage of.
‘I’m hungry, gege!’ he whined, which had the extra (and entirely expected) benefit of settling the worry lines creasing Lan Wangji’s eyes, reminding him that Wei Wuxian was fine and they were together and he didn’t need to worry so much.
He worried far too much, his Lan Zhan. But they’d been living and traveling together for over a year now, and the anxiety that gripped him in unexpected moments was finally beginning to loosen its hold as Wei Wuxian convinced him, slowly but surely, that he was here to st
The village appeared almost out of nowhere. One minute, Wei Wuxian was whining about how hungry he was, how his aching feet protested with every step, and Lan Zhan was very tolerantly pretending to sympathise, and the next minute, the path became a narrow road lined with houses, a drizzly, empty little market square and an inn.
Of these, only the inn showed signs of life. A few lanterns dangled from the eaves, bobbing in the evening breeze, and the scent of something delicious cooking found its way into the outside air. Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly, just in case it was a mirage, but the damp houses and rain-slick roads were still there when he opened his eyes.
‘Where did this come from?’ he muttered, and Lan Wangji’s silence suggested he hadn’t expected it either.
‘It’s just in time, anyway,’ Wei Wuxian said with satisfaction. ‘Let’s go see if that inn has room for us. And if they locals can tell us anything about what we saw in the woods.’
Lan Wangji made a small noise of agreement, and followed Wei Wuxian to the door of the little village’s single public house. He elbowed the door open and dragged Lan Wangji inside.
The room was quiet — not completely empty, but close to it, with only a few scattered tables of what were probably locals enjoying tea and reaching the end of their meal. The walls were warm wood, bathed in the soft golden glow of the lamps strung across the ceiling, painted paper screens drowning out some of the low buzz of conversation. It was an inviting, cosy space, and Wei Wuxian relaxed just stepping into it. He could see Lan Wangji do the same, though no one else would likely be able to tell.
It was only a moment before a woman emerged from a back corridor and spotted them. She was willow and small, bright-eyed, and impossible to guess at an age. Her smile lit up her face as she gestured them in.
‘What can I do for you young masters?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘Something to eat, after such a long journey?’
Wei Wuxian beamed easily back at her. ‘How do you know it’s been so long?’ he teased, though he was already following her toward a table.
She smiled gently at him over her shoulder. ‘Because you’re not local, and everywhere is a long journey from here,’ she countered, not at all put off by his teasing. ‘Here, sit, and I’ll bring you some tea.’
‘And some wine, as well!’ Wei Wuxian chirped; the innkeeper nodded and Lan Wangji’s eyes crinkled at the edges, and they sat themselves down. Wei Wuxian watched their hostess glide away. ‘A stroke of luck, isn’t it? I thought we were going to have to camp out again.’
‘Very fortunate,’ Lan Wangji agreed, long fingers resting against the folds of Wei Wuxian’s robe, over his knee — a small, possessive gesture that made something bright and fizzy wriggle its way into Wei Wuxian’s belly and settle there. ‘Perhaps someone here will have information of use.’
‘If they do, I’ll find out!’ Wei Wuxian promised. Not that Lan Wangji wasn’t good at getting news about night hunts as well; he just had a very…Lan way of going about it. Wei Wuxian had his own method, which usually worked better. And even if it didn’t, it was more fun.
‘Find out what?’ the innkeeper’s gentle voice interrupted as she carefully set tea, wine and cups between them. ‘Is there something further the young masters require?’
Wei Wuxian bowed quickly. ‘We were in the forest and saw something odd,’ he explained, without going into too much detail — yet — about what that something was. ‘Do you know about any strange happenings in the area?’
Her eyes were bright and a little cautious, though her smile never dimmed. ‘We’re a very quiet sort of place. What sort of strange?’
‘Oh, you know!’ Wei Wuxian said brightly. ‘Hauntings, unexplained deaths, mysterious creatures. That sort of thing.’
The innkeeper shook her head. ‘Nothing that requires the assistance of cultivators.’ She folded her fingers primly in front of her. ‘I’m sure you saw that our forest is very quiet.’
‘The graveyard,’ Wei Wuxian wondered aloud. ‘The old one. Was that from here, once?’
He wasn’t worried about the graveyard; it was only a way to ease into the next question, so he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t seem concerned. ‘No. There was another village once, a neighbour to this one. It’s been gone for years. The last few families moved here decades ago.’ Her mouth curved into an easy smile. ‘Nothing sinister there either, I’m afraid. Children moved away, not enough were born, and I’m told it was always a small place. It faded away.’
All of which matched what Wei Wuxian had felt from the remnants of the graves themselves, but it still didn’t explain the crater and the broken trees and the resentful energy swirling through the place like smoke. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘we did see some things that looked a bit out of place.’ Understatement.
A delicate shrug. ‘There was an incident, years ago. It was dealt with then.’ Her head tilted, eyes flickering from the dizi at Wei Wuxian’s belt to Lan Wangji’s hands. ‘You are musical cultivators?’ she asked, and there was something in her voice that time. Curiosity. Longing.
Lan Wangji bowed politely, even from where he sat. He was always so graceful about everything. It drove Wei Wuxian crazy with wanting to make a mess of him. ‘I am Lan Zhan, courtesy Wangji. My sect is known for musical cultivation.’
‘Lan Wangji,’ their hostess repeated, slowly, as if tasting it, and bowed in return. ‘I am Zheng Lianxiang. You are both welcome, and although there is no pressing need for your services, I would be very grateful to hear you play, while you are here. We get little music that is not local, as I’m sure you can guess.’ The wistful expression passed as she straightened. ‘But not now, of course, when you have just arrived, hungry and weary! A poor host I am indeed, to have kept you for so long. Is there anything else I can do for you?’
Wei Wuxian turned the full force of his smile on her, ducking his head in quick thanks. ‘Do you have a room for the night? That’s the most important thing!’
She returned the smile, her eyes darting ever so quickly to where Lan Wangji’s hand rested, and answered, ‘Of course. Why don’t you let me bring you food first, and I can ready it for guests while you eat?’
‘Ah, thank you! You’ve saved our lives!’ Wei Wuxian barely caught sight of Lan Wangji’s eyes flickering upward in exasperation, and chose to ignore it. Instead he reached under the table and squeezed his husband’s hand. ‘I’ll ask around if anyone knows anything,’ he murmured, as Madam Zheng disappeared into the kitchen.
Lan Wangji nodded agreement, and Wei Wuxian bounded to his feet. He drifted around the common room from table to table, charming strangers with his cheerfulness and his wine jar. Most of the locals were friendly enough, happy to share his wine and innocuous local gossip, but it quickly became clear that most the people of the village had no idea what was in the woods, and didn’t find it a cause for concern. A pair of brothers who worked as woodcutters acknowledged the damaged fauna in the forest, but found nothing to cause alarm. A local shepherd had heard some strange noises, but hadn’t investigated any further. By the time Wei Wuxian saw Madam Zheng return to set out bowls of food in front of Lan Wangji, he had barely more information than he’d started with. He gave up, at least for the time being. His belly was still grumbling, so he settled down at the table next to his husband to eat. There were dumplings and noodles, tofu and three bowls of vegetables, chicken in a dark sticky sauce, a bowl of soup so red with chili that he thought he saw Lan Wangji’s face going red just from being near it. That one he pulled closer to him.
‘Something doesn’t add up here.’ Wei Wuxian poked the tip of a chopstick absently into his rice. ‘The locals have noticed something, but not enough to cause alarm. But also, there aren’t that many locals. Something made people leave that other village, and this one’s barely here. Madam Zheng says there’s nothing to worry about, but there’s something a little weird about the way she says it. And there was definitely something in the forest crashing around — so why wouldn’t anyone notice it?’ He let out a long slow hiss of breath, between his lips, and grumbled, ‘Lan Zhan, I don’t think this is going to be the sort of mystery I can puzzle out over wine.’
The corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth twitched, ever so slightly, but he nodded agreement. ‘I think the only course of action will be to return to the forest and investigate more closely.’ Wei Wuxian loved when he sounded all decisive like that, and made plans to show him just how much in the not-too-distant future. But first:
‘The other mystery,’ he mused, tipping back the cup his Lan Zhan so considerately filled with wine, ‘is our good Madam Zheng. She seems to know a bit about cultivators, considering how few this place must see.’
Interest flickered in Lan Wangji’s eyes. ‘There is an unusual energy about her,’ he confirmed, which Wei Wuxian had already noticed, thank you very much.
But it was good to be in agreement on these things. ‘Do you think she might have once belonged to a sect?’
‘Mm. Possible,’ Lan Wangji conceded. ‘Or if not a sect, then a wandering cultivator. I also believe,’ he added, his mouth curving slightly upward, ‘that our good landlady is a good deal older than she appears.’
Wei Wuxian grinned broadly at him. ‘Well that ’s interesting. So maybe she is a cultivator. Or was once upon a time, at least. And then what, just got tired of the whole thing and decided to open a tea house in the back end of nowhere? I can’t say I blame her, if it was an option.’
‘I do not know,’ Lan Wangji admitted. ‘But I will not be surprised if we soon find out.’ His head tilted, narrowed eyes regarding Wei Wuxian thoughtfully. ‘Does Wei Ying wish to retire and open a tea house?’
For once, Wei Wuxian couldn’t actually tell if he was joking. And here he’d made such a study of all Lan Wangji’s expressions! He thought he knew by now when he was being teased. How disappointing. Still, it was a fair question. Even now, he didn’t always feel quite like he quite belonged anywhere. Cloud Recesses, yes, as long as Lan Zhan was there, but the few times he was left there alone it felt…odd. Uncomfortable. Even now.
Still — ‘Lan Zhan!’ he protested, sputtering. ‘I’m not ready to retire yet! Why, do you think I’m old? I’m younger than you now! How dare you!’ He half-collapsed into giggles, gratified by the delicate tilt upward of the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips.
It seemed he’d answered right.
They finished their dinner — Lan Wangji had long since given up trying to enforce ‘no talking while eating’ anywhere but communal Cloud Recesses meals — and Wei Wuxian caught Madam Zheng’s eye. She gestured them to follow, and led them up the narrow wooden stairs to the inn’s upper floor.
‘I’ve given you my favourite room,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I have so few guests, just let me know if you’d prefer another.’ Privately, Wei Wuxian thought that even ‘few’ guests was a generous exaggeration; the dining room had emptied out as the locals shuffled home, and the inn’s single other occupant was a lone young man in soldier’s garb who had spent the entire evening in front of the fire, reading over the same letter.
But — ‘Madam Zheng is generous!’ Wei Wuxian said. ‘I’m sure we’ll love it. I do love it!’ he amended as she opened the door to a large, comfortable corner room. Two wide windows were shuttered against the rain drumming rhythmically against the walls. Cheerful paper lanterns swung from the ceiling, bathing the floor in soft ivory light; the bed was large and covered with an embroidered blanket. He started, catching a glimpse of her knowing smile from the corner of his eye. Well, the two of them weren’t very subtle.
A bathtub was tucked behind a tall paper screen painted with cranes and peonies, and a tea service was set on a small table in the middle of the room.
‘The water is hot,’ Madam Zheng said, apparently pleased with their reactions — even Lan Wangji’s, whose eyebrow had barely twitched. ‘Shall I bring up tea and wine now, or give you time to settle in first?’
Wei Wuxian took a long, contented breath. He looked at Lan Wangji, in his damp clinging white robes, and cast a glance to where the tub’s metal rim poked out from behind the screen.
‘Now, please,’ he said, because he had a feeling they weren’t going to be ready to answer the door for a while. She departed with a knowing smile, only to reappear a few minutes later with a tea service and three small clay jugs of wine, which she left before departing with a quick bow.
Left alone, Wei Wuxian flung himself into Lan Wangji’s arms. ‘Are you going to help me wash all this mud off, Lan-er-gege?’ he demanded.
‘Wei Ying asks questions to which he knows the answer,’ Lan Wangji murmured, his breath a soft ghost of air across Wei Wuxian’s throat, and that answered that.
*
They set out around midday, after a lazy morning. The forest was grey and shadowed in the drizzle, the tops of the trees vanishing into a lingering mist. Their feet sunk into the damp soil beneath them as they passed the gaping crater and the shattered branches and made their way into the part of the forest still standing.
Despite having cleared out much of the resentment barely a day before, the ominous heaviness of it was creeping back in, darkening the shadows and coiling in the spaces between skeletal branches too close to the earth to see the sun. Wei Wuxian could feel it like eager hands tugging at the hem of his robes, like a child trying to catch his attention. And yet —
‘It feels suppressed,’ he said aloud, and Lan Wangji’s head turned barely perceptibly in his direction. ‘Like someone’s already been here to deal with it. So maybe there were cultivators here to take care of it, but couldn’t actually get rid of it.’
Lan Wangji paused, thoughtful, then summoned his guqin from its hiding place and played a few quick, curious notes. The strings quivered expectantly in the quiet, and he frowned.
‘The work is not familiar,’ he admitted. ‘But whoever did it, the web is fraying. Perhaps what we encountered was its attempt to break free of its bindings.’
‘The question is, did it?’ Wei Wuxian twirled Chenqing absently in one hand, searching leaves and mist and shadows for a further sign of the creature responsible for the destruction. ‘I think I might actually hope it did. If what we saw back there was its failed attempt, that probably means it’s capable of bigger.’
Lan Wangji’s shoulder twitched, not quite a shrug. Wei Wuxian had no idea if that meant he agreed or not. ‘We will investigate.’
Wei Wuxian grinned at him. ‘It’s not like you to state the obvious, Er-ge-ge,’ he teased, and without waiting for a reaction, marched off into the trees. He thought he heard the smallest exasperated snort from behind him, but didn’t turn around.
The resentment grew stronger as they walked, and he began to revise his opinion of what had happened. The energy no longer felt suppressed, but behind them was a definite feeling of wrong way! not this way! nothing to see here! that he thought might have been part of an attempt to drive something away from the direction of the village.
The creature? Or something else?
And then he walked straight into a wall of resentful energy, and stopped thinking about it.
It was the strongest of its kind he’d felt since tumbling into the Burial Mounds, but different. The Burial Mounds had been the creeping, vicious horror of inevitable doom, the bitter fury of a long-nursed vengeance. This was a burning, savage rage.
‘Wei Ying?’ Lan Wangji was looking at him in concern, his lips pressed tight together and his hand lifted halfway to Wei Wuxian’s face. ‘What is it?’
‘Can’t you feel it?’ Worrisome, if not — all right, Wei Wuxian was far more attuned to this particular sort of energy than most other cultivators, but it was so strong. It felt like he’d walked into a stone wall.
Lan Wangji nodded, but barely, and the worry didn’t dissipate from his face. ‘A little. I assume it is stronger than before?’
‘So much stronger,’ Wei Wuxian told him. ‘Lan Zhan, whatever it is, it’s very, very angry.’
Lan Wangji’s head tilted, thoughtful, his jaw tense and his eyes narrowed. ‘Cleansing?’ he offered, and Wei Wuxian shrugged.
‘Honestly, I don’t even know if that’ll work.’ They couldn’t have cleansed the Xuanwu or the Burial Mounds themselves, no matter how strong Lan Zhan’s cultivation was. Wei Wuxian used to play it around the settlement sometimes, to calm things down, but its reach had limits. ‘But it’s worth a try?’
Lan Wangji gave a sharp nod and settled himself onto the ground, the guqin across his knees. Wei Wuxian stepped in front of him, dark and dangerous, gripping Chenqing in one hand. If this didn ’t work, and whatever this was wanted to make its displeasure known, it would have to get through the Yiling Laozu first.
‘…Wei Ying,’ Lan Wangji said, exasperated, but gave up. Wei Wuxian didn’t move.
The first bright, delicate notes of Cleansing trickled from the strings and into the air. For a moment, the shadows lifted, the thick resentment-fueled mist lightening to silver. Wei Wuxian could feel the music winding its way beneath his skin, into his blood, coursing through blocked meridians and thrumming in his blood. Calm , it said. Peace.
The sound was cut off abruptly by a roar, followed immediately by a crashing shadow that shuddered the ground and the tree trunks, knocked Wei Wuxian nearly to his knees and stilled Lan Wangji’s hand with its fury. Only for a moment — Lan Zhan started playing again immediately, as Wei Wuxian staggered upright with Chenqing held out before him.
The beast was mostly darkness. It blotted even the faint grey light from the sky, an enormous shadow swallowing forest and hill and cloud. It roared again, drowning out the guqin’s song. Wei Wuxian lifted Chenqing, stumbling backward as a wave of power crashed into him, and barely kept from bumping into Lan Wangji behind him. He blew a few quick notes — a high, sharp trill like an arrow, piercing the oncoming shadow and provoking a shriek of rage. Then the creature was on him — formless and then not, its shape shifting in its rush. One moment it was heavy, fangs and claws and rubbery flesh, the next it faded to coils of resentful air.
Wei Wuxian fought. He could feel the creature but never quite see it, not until it was already on him, and when a glistening black claw dragged a deep gash in the flesh of his right forearm he used the blood to smear a talisman that would throw it back. It ignored most of Chenqing’s attempts to deflect it, and although Lan Wangji continued to play, it didn’t seem like it was paying a whole lot of attention to Cleansing , either.
‘Wei Ying!’ Lan Wangji shouted, as Wei Wuxian narrowly ducked out of the way of a claw that formed mid-flight and tried to spear him through the heart. He ducked, but he stayed where he was, between Lan Zhan and the beast.
‘I don’t think it’s working!’ he stammered out breathlessly. It might be time for Lan Wangji to employ other methods. Like his sword.
Lan Zhan grunted agreement, and Wei Wuxian could see him rising gracefully to his feet from the corner of his vision. And then the howl of heartrending fury rose, the very sound of it scraping against his skin. He could faintly feel blood in his nose, but as he lifted his hand to brush it away, a wall of relentless, furious power smashed hard into him. It threw him backward, and Lan Wangji as well; they both tumbled along the rolling ground as if they were tossed there. Gripping Chenqing in bloody fingers, Wei Wuxian threw every bit of his remaining energy into a barrier as the shadows bore down on them.
*
‘Wei Ying!’ Lan Zhan was leaning over him, worry creasing his forehead and the corners of his mouth. There was blood on his cheek, and more on his collar. Wei Wuxian blinked blearily at him.
Lan Wangji helped him sit up, and he looked around them dizzily. The devastation was staggering. They were pressed into a dip in the forest floor that had definitely not been there before, surrounded by shattered branches and fragments of broken trees. Wei Wuxian was bleeding from his arm and his nose and somewhere he hadn’t determined yet, and all his bones ached. His temple was bruised where he’d apparently managed to hit himself in the face with Chenqing while trying to break his fall. There was no sign of the creature.
There was, however, an extremely broken guqin. Wangji had been shattered into pieces.
‘…Oh,’ Wei Wuxian said, and Lan Wangji’s eyes dropped to the splintered soundboard at his side.
‘Never mind,’ he said, though Wei Wuxian didn’t believe him for a moment. ‘Are you well enough to move?’
Wei Wuxian nodded, despite not being at all sure. He wobbled more than a little as his husband helped him to his feet. ‘What happened?’
‘You protected us.’ Lan Wangji bent to retrieve the pieces of his broken instrument and replace them in his qiankun bag, while Wei Wuxian watched mournfully. ‘When it could not reach us, it became frustrated, and I managed to drive it off. I do not think we are immediately ready for another such confrontation.’
‘Definitely not.’ Wei Wuxian gathered himself up, and tucked his dizi into his belt, and tried to feel around for which of his limbs were still in working order. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, as the final piece of the guqin vanished into a pillow of white silk.
Lan Wangji’s mouth was tired and sad, but he shook his head. ‘It is replaceable. You are not.’ He glanced around them, worriedly, and offered Wei Wuxian his arm. ‘Come.’
Wei Wuxian leaned heavily against him, and willed his weary legs to work. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, too achy and weary to make a joke out of it. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
They staggered back to the village, leaning on each other, weary and wounded. Lan Wangji would heal soon enough, once his strength returned, but his spiritual energy was depleted. Wei Wuxian was discovering his injuries were superficial, but he too was exhausted, and without a golden core to speed things along, he would just have to mend the more traditional way. He was not looking forward to it.
He pushed open the door to the inn, leaning heavily against it; Lan Wangji shot him a worried look and slipped past him. The inn was nearly empty, the few customers in the taproom too concerned with their own affairs to pay mind to even wounded cultivators, but Madame Zheng took one look at them and motioned them quickly inside.
‘To your room,’ she said firmly, ‘and no arguing. I’ll bring water and bandages.’
‘It’s really not that bad,’ Wei Wuxian began, but subsided under the combined glares of Lan Zhan and Madame Zheng. He sighed dramatically, and meekly made his way back to their shared room. Although — ‘It really isn’t,’ he grumbled under his breath. Lan Wangji remained unmoved. Wei Wuxian sunk onto the edge of the bed with a groan, as Lan Wangji set out the pieces of the broken guqin on the tea table.
The landlady returned with a basin of warm water, steaming with the fresh sweet scent of some kind of herb, and a stack of clean rags. ‘Clean the blood off first,’ she directed, ‘and then we’ll know if it’s that bad or not.’
She didn’t look as if she intended to leave, so Wei Wuxian traded an awkward look with Lan Zhan and said, ‘We can take it from here.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do nothing strenuous, yet,’ she said, eyeing him as if deciding whether he was trustworthy. ‘I’ll return soon, to see what else you need.’
Wei Wuxian favoured her with his most innocent smile, holding three fingers up to his head. ‘We’ll be good!’ he promised. He was sure he heard a soft snort as she turned to go.
Lan Wangji watched him as he gingerly peeled off the outer layers, eyes narrowing in anger at the purpling bruises marking Wei Wuxian’s body. He was sore and aching, but none of it seemed likely to do him in — he definitely didn’t want to take too many more hits like that, but he’d survive the encounter.
‘That thing,’ Wei Wuxian announced, ‘clearly didn’t know that you’re the only one allowed to mark me up!’ Lan Wangji’s eyes flashed — in annoyance or worry or something else he really coudn’t tell — and Wei Wuxian blinked at him with a slow smile. ‘You’ll have to be very gentle with your Wei Ying for a while, Er-ge-ge,’ he whined, which had the intended effect of lessening the worry in Lan Wangji’s face. If Wei Wuxian was well enough to whine, he probably wasn’t hurt too badly.
‘Mn,’ Lan Wangji grumbled, and it might have been agreement or might not, from the way his eyes were roaming over Wei Wuxian’s slowly-revealed skin.
But they were both hurt, however much they disliked thinking about it, and if Wei Wuxian showed the worst of it, Lan Wangji was moving much more slowly and carefully than usual, too. They got out of their clothes, wiped away the blood and dirt and inspected each other thoroughly for injuries with only a few very small detours.
A short rap on the door announced the return of their landlady, and Wei Wuxian pulled one of Lan Zhan’s spare robes tight around himself as the door opened again. She carried a tray this time, bearing two empty cups and a pot of steaming tea which she set carefully on the table. ‘Well?’
‘We’re all right,’ Wei Wuxian promised, ducking behind the painted screen to pull on his outer robe. Lan Zhan, of course, was already, somehow, perfectly dressed and seated at the tea table. ‘A lot of bruises, but we live to fight on another day.’ He poked his head around the side of the screen. ‘The guqin got the worst of it.’
Madame Zheng sighed. ‘We can repair it,’ she promised, drawing a gentle fingertip down the splintered edge of Wangji’s soundboard. Lan Wangji’s gaze snapped sharply up to her face, and her mouth quirked despite her sorrowful expression. ‘In that, at least, I have some experience.’
That wasn’t the only thing she had some experience in, by Wei Wuxian’s count. He finished tying his belt and strolled back out from behind the screen to flop down next to Lan Wangji. ‘That thing in the woods,’ he asked bluntly, too weary and sore to disguise his question with small talk. ‘What was it?’
Resignation settled itself on Madame Zheng’s face and she sat gracefully across from them. ‘An ancient beast,’ she answered, straightforward, apparently now ready to answer their questions. ‘It was sent by the Wen, many years ago. It has been stuck here for so long that now it is lost, confused, and angry. I had hoped you would not encounter it.’
Wei Wuxian barely heard the sharp catch of Lan Wangji’s breath. ‘The Wen?’
She nodded. ‘Years ago, during the war. There were monsters they let loose in other sects’ lands — meant to keep them all busy, I expect, and deplete the number and energy of their opposition. Only no one noticed us, way out here.’
‘Like the waterborne abyss in Caiyi,’ Wei Wuxian murmured to Lan Zhan under his breath. ‘We should have known there would be more.’
Lan Zhan made a quick nod of agreement, clasping his hands before him and bowing his head to Madame Zheng in apology. ‘The Lan sect regret neglecting our duties in this area,’ he said formally.
Her face went gentle, and she waved the apology away. ‘You had problems of your own,’ she said. ‘And we have been able to fend for ourselves this long.’
Wei Wuxian definitely had some suspicions about just how they managed to do that. He was sure by now that Madame Zheng was a cultivator. If she’d been here at the time, and spent the last decade and a half in this village keeping the thing at bay, she would also be a strong one. Which meant if she could have banished or eliminated it by now, she would have. ‘Is there a way to get rid of it permanently?’
Madame Zheng picked up one of the shattered guqin fragments, rubbing its surface thoughtfully with a callused thumb. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And no.’
‘We will rectify the Lan sect’s previous negligence,’ Lan Wangji said firmly, ‘and see the beast gone.’
Her eyebrow raised, delicate and almost amused. ‘Hanguang-jun is known for keeping his word in these matters,’ she said, and Wei Wuxian genuinely couldn’t tell if she was mocking him. ‘Unfortunately, the challenge lies in this: the Wen were tyrants, but they were not fools. Knowing they might have to eliminate the monsters of their own making, the one who summoned the creature bound it to the control of the bloodline. Even if it is killed or driven away, it forms itself again, each incarnation more vicious than the last. Only a Wen can dispel it, and all of that line are dead.’ Her gaze flickered toward Wei Wuxian a little too knowingly as she added, ‘And if any are not, they are certainly not making themselves known.’
‘Madame Zheng!’ Wei Wuxian felt Lan Zhan’s hand seeking out his own, and gripped it tight. ‘Good news. I think we actually can help this time.’
*
Some hours later Wei Wuxian lay sweaty and sated in Lan Zhan’s arms, head pillowed against his chest, his mind whirling even though it should be much too tired to think about anything. They’d been careful . Mostly. ‘Now we know she was a cultivator,’ he mused, and felt the low rumble of Lan Zhan’s hum of agreement against his cheek. ‘And to have been holding back that thing for so long! That thing was strong enough to fight both of us and still get away, Lan Zhan.’
‘Mn.’ Lan Wangji’s fingers stroked idly through Wei Wuxian’s hair. ‘She knows something about musical cultivation as well.’ It was as close as he was going to get, Wei Wuxian knew, to admitting he was curious about their mysterious new ally.
‘Well then,’ Wei Wuxian said, nuzzling into the graceful curve of Lan Wangji’s neck, ‘she can help you with fixing Wangji, and I’ll write to A-Yuan and Wen Ning. Weren’t they somewhere around Ouyang last time we heard?’
Lan Wangji’s breath was delightfully ragged, his pulse thudding in his throat against Wei Wuxian’s mouth. ‘Mn. I think Sizhui intended to visit Lanling.’
Wei Wuxian nipped playfully at a particularly tempting spot on his neck, and got a sharp gasp for his efforts. ‘Even better. I’ll write to Jin Ling too — ugh, but then he’ll want to come, won’t he? Not that I don’t want to see him, but this is a mess he doesn’t need to be involved in.’
Lan Wangji was very, very still, as if holding himself in check. ‘I do not believe the duties of Sect Leader Jin will allow him to come so far on short notice,’ he allowed, his heart still racing beneath his skin. Wei Wuxian licked a line up his throat. ‘ Wei Ying .’
Wei Wuxian grinned. ‘I haven’t tired you out enough yet, Er-ge-ge? And here it’s almost nine o’clock! Your husband is failing in his marital duties!’
Lan Wangji’s eyes narrowed. ‘There is time to make up for his negligence,’ he growled, and Wei Wuxian decided writing to their son was just going to have to wait.
*
Repairing the guqin was a painstaking process for Lan Zhan and Madame Zheng, and a painful one for Wei Wuxian to witness. One of the convenient things about a dizi was how easy they were to make — he’d made chopped one from a bit of bamboo with Lan Jingyi’s sword in about seventeen seconds, once, and yes it had sounded awful but it had worked . When he saw Lan Wangji place the broken fragments of his shattered spiritual instrument onto Madame Zheng’s music room table, his instinct was to find out just where one could get a new one made. He didn’t hold out much hope for its survival, but he kept his mouth shut because Lan Zhan was so determined to try, and if it didn’t work, he was going to have to come to that conclusion on his own.
That was all before he watched Madame Zheng set out wood, water, powder, a small knife and a delicate brush and spend the better part of a morning sitting with Lan Wangji, their heads bent over the table. For a while he just sat and watched them, but even staring at Lan Zhan got a little boring after a while, so he’d written the letters to Jin Ling, Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui instead.
Responses arrived together from all three, as a cluster of Jin Ling’s glittering golden butterflies descended on the breakfast room a few mornings later as Wei Wuxian was just staggering downstairs, half-awake.
‘Lan Zhan,’ he mumbled sleepily through a yawn, ‘A-Yuan and Wen Ning are on their way. Jin Ling says they left early this morning.’ He sunk down to a seat, blinking blearily as Lan Zhan deposited a bowl of congee in front of him. Really, he had the best husband. ‘Wen Ning can move pretty fast, so they should be here late tonight or tomorrow, if they want to be.’ He waited for Lan Wangji’s hum of acknowledgement, and asked, ‘How’s Wangji?’
Lan Wangji pressed the spoon into Wei Wuxian’s hand. ‘Wei Ying should eat,’ he said, almost petulant, and refused to say anything more until Wei Wuxian relented.
‘Madame Zheng is a remarkable craftsman,’ he admitted. ‘I am surprised the repairs are as good as they are. But the spiritual energy in it is depleted. It will likely take a long time before it can be used at full strength.’
Well, that wasn’t good. ‘Like…weeks?’ Wei Wuxian asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it. ‘Or years? Or longer?’
Lan Wangji’s shoulder moved in a delicate shrug, and he stared straight ahead. So, definitely years. Maybe longer. Wei Wuxian was going to figure out how to speed up the process — some kind of amplifier array, maybe? — but supposed he had to make sure it was all back in one piece first. ‘Well, we need A-Yuan to play this time anyway.’
Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. ‘I hoped to support him,’ he said unhappily. ‘I will find a way to do so.’
‘Of course you will. We will,’ Wei Wuxian agreed cheerfully. ‘He won’t be alone! But remember — he had a really good teacher.’ He grinned broadly. ‘He told me that Hanguang-jun found his playing perfectly adequate. Such high praise!’
Lan Wangji sniffed, folded his hands in his lap, and muttered, ‘No talking during meals.’
Wei Wuxian let out a burst of laughter, and kept giggling to himself as he ate his breakfast.
*
Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui arrived late that evening, as Lan Wangji was starting to look like it was time to take him to bed. Madame Zheng took one look at the ribbon on Sizhui’s forehead and ushered them straight to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s table in the common room. If she noticed the dark corpse-veins lining Wen Ning’s throat she was good enough not to mention it, and just brought two more cups and a fresh pot of tea.
‘We came as soon as we got your message,’ Lan Sizhui said as he poured for them all. ‘Jin Ling’s very cross about it — us leaving early, and that he couldn’t come along. We’re supposed to call you names to tell you exactly what he thinks of it, so pretend that I did, all right?’
Lan Wangji frowned, though he softened a little when Wei Wuxian collapsed into giggles against him. He could hold grudges, even against Jin Ling. ‘Oh, little radish! I can only imagine what he wanted you to say. I promise I’ll swear you passed along all my nephew’s messages!’ Lan Sizhui swallowed back a smile and looked demurely down at his teacup as Wei Wuxian caught his breath.
‘Tell us what it is we’re here to fight?’ Wen Ning interjected after a moment. ‘There wasn’t much detail in your letter, but you said it was important the two of us were here.’
‘Ah. Yes.’ Wei Wuxian reached for the mostly-empty wine jug he’d been drinking from before they arrived, took a good long swig, and explained.
‘So I just play it to sleep, and it goes away?’ Lan Sizhui asked, his forehead wrinkled in thought beneath the pale ribbon, when Wei Wuxian was done. ‘That sounds…surprisingly simple.’
‘It does,’ Wei Wuxian said, with a glance at Lan Wangji, ‘but it isn’t. Remember that the creature has been out here for years, getting angrier and meaner. It won’t go quietly. Which is why Wen Ning is here too.’
‘We will assist,’ Lan Wangji spoke up, ‘but the success of this endeavour will be largely dependent on you, Sizhui.’
The boy nodded once, decisive, determined. ‘I won’t let you down.’
Wei Wuxian laughed, bright and loud, and ruffled his hair. ‘As if you could! Just don’t get yourself hurt.’
Lan Sizhui fixed a level gaze on him and said firmly, ‘I should be saying that to you.’
‘The cheek!’ Wei Wuxian laughed again. ‘Lan Zhan, did you hear that? Do you see how our unfilial child talks to me?’
‘Mn,’ Lan Wangji acknowledged, sounding far too unconcerned for the grievous insult his husband had just suffered. ‘He is correct.’
There was clearly no help coming from that quarter, or from Wen Ning either, so Wei Wuxian grumbled into his cup until Lan Zhan refilled it. He reveled, for an evening, in spending this time with his favourite people, ready to right old wrongs. The next day’s fight would be a challenge, but he had faith in them all. They stayed awake, drawing up their plans, until the Lans were nearly dozing at the table, and a tolerant and tipsy Wei Wuxian took his Lan Zhan to bed.
*
They set out the next morning, late for the Lans and distressingly early for Wei Wuxian. The rain had stopped, but the threat of it remained in the heavy clouds looming low over the dark silhouette of the treetops. They marched in silence, feet squelching in wet dirt, until the path widened into a clearing made of smashed and scattered branches. Nothing moved — the underbrush was empty of birds, small animals, all the signs of life that normally occupied a forest. The air was uncannily still.
‘Right.’ Wei Wuxian took in the sighs, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Let’s set up before we go summoning anything. A-Yuan, where do you want to be? Lan Zhan and I will stick close.’
‘There, I think.’ Lan Sizhui pointed to a low rocky rise, surrounded by beaten bushes toward one edge of the clearing. ‘It should amplify the sound, and give the energy somewhere to flow.’ He glanced toward Lan Wangji, who nodded approval, and hurried toward the spot.
‘I’ll wait to the side.’ Wen Ning’s voice was low as he gestured to a spot just in the trees. ‘We don’t know what direction it’ll come from, and I’ll need to be able to move quickly.’ Not that he ever didn’t move quickly; the fierce corpse was preternaturally fast and Wei Wuxian was pretty sure he could make it from one end of the clearing to the other before the rest of them could blink. But he understood. They wanted no mistakes when protecting their A-Yuan.
‘Good!’ He clapped Wen Ning’s shoulder cheerfully. ‘I hope it does listen to A-Yuan better than it did to me or Lan Zhan, but in case it doesn’t, it’s strong. And it was very unhappy with us for interrupting it. I don’t imagine it will be any more friendly now.’
Watching Sizhui ready his instrument, Wei Wuxian felt a stab of worry wriggle into the space between his ribs. He trusted everyone here with his life — and more importantly with A-Yuan’s life, since he tended to be a bit careless with his own — but how else was he supposed to feel? These were the people he most trusted, yes, but they were also the people he most loved. Even as capable as they all were, he disliked sending them into danger.
‘Wei Ying.’ Lan Wangji interrupted his thoughts with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft, ‘It’s time.’
‘Right!’ Wei Wuxian dragged out a grin and Chenqing. ‘Let’s get this started.’
Because while the rest of them prepared to fight, Wei Wuxian would summon the beast.
Lan Wangji knelt behind Sizhui, fingers on his repaired guqin. Drained of the stored spiritual energy it had built up over more than two decades, it wasn’t nearly as strong as it once was — but Lan Wangji was, and he had explained how he could still use it to augment Lan Sizhui’s playing with his own spiritual energy. He caught Wei Wuxian’s worried gaze and nodded once, grim but certain.
Wei Wuxian lifted Chenqing to his lips and played an ominous trill. He let the resentment that suffused the area wind around the notes, beckoning, calling, a writhing lure of resentment and captive rage.
The creature answered.
It crashed into the clearing, a solid impenetrable shadow, radiating fury. Lan Sizhui’s eyes went wide as he was shoved backward against Lan Wangji’s knees. His jaw set, his mouth a fierce determined line, and the first chords of ‘Cleansing’ rang in the heavy damp air.
The shadows shrieked and rushed toward him. Wei Wuxian gripped Chenqing hard, knuckles white, forcing himself to keep from playing and luring the beast toward him, no matter how much he wanted to leap in and assist. The involvement of the Yiling Laozu was a last resort, only if it became apparent that Sizhui’s song had completely failed.
But a monster was rushing to attack his child, and it took every scrap of his willpower to stand and watch.
And then Wen Ning was there. A blur of black robes intercepted the oncoming shadow with a crash that shuddered the ground and the trees. The impact left a new hollow in the muddy ground, and the creature let out a shriek of rage. Sizhui, with Lan Wangji behind him, played on.
Wei Wuxian caught glimpses of Wen Ning’s face from the roiling shadows as he and the beast fought. Resentment flared, writhing at its edges.
It was working . Sizhui’s music was working. The creature felt it, and clearly didn’t like it. The attempt to calm it only made it angrier, as it flailed and struggled against the music’s insistent demand.
The song began again. Lan Sizhui’s face was furrowed in concentration, his eyes fixed on his fingers, trusting his family to keep the monster away from him. And Wen Ning was doing just that, swift strikes that forced it back from its target but refused to allow it to turn and flee into the trees. The resentment winding around Wei Wuxian’s feet grew darker, stronger, fiercer. He let it haunt him, keeping Chenqing at the ready.
Suddenly, the shadow began to close in on itself, growing smaller and darker like a black hole, hovering in the damp silvery air. With a wild howl, it wrested itself out of Wen Ning’s grasp and barrelled straight into Sizhui. It exploded into darkness, and Wei Wuxian couold barely see the flutter of white robes as Sizhui toppled, before the shadow swallowed him.
‘A-Yuan!’ The name scraped his throat even before he realised he’d screamed. Blood and resentment clouded his vision as he lifted his dizi. But there was music already — a guqin, weak but sure. The shadow-beast was stopped, inches from Lan Wangji.
His golden eyes blazed in defiance as he played. Blood trickled from his nose as he poured his own feelings, his own power, his own protective fury into the song. You will not hurt my child sounded in every quiver of the strings. You will not harm my family.
It was so strong, but it wasn’t enough — wouldn’t be enough. Wen Ning slammed into the creature from the side, and Wei Wuxian played frantically, trying to lure the beast toward him and away from Lan Zhan and Sizhui. But it was so angry now, attention fixed on the futile attempt to play it to rest.
Wei Wuxian’s melody turned shrill, demanding — look at me! — as Wen Ning landed solidly inside the shadows’ perimeter. He connected with something inside it, and the beast reared back as Wen Ning set Lan Sizhui’s limp body gently on the ground behind him.
The anguished sound that tore from Lan Wangji’s throat was something Wei Wuxian would never have believed he could make. He looked for a moment like he was about to drop Wangji and draw Bichen, but he held firm, sending one final, furious chord toward the shuddering shadows.
The air at his side shimmered, like sunlight hidden by rain. The music of the guqin grew, swelling with spiritual energy as the shimmer brightened and took form, resolving into a transparent image — a woman, robed in scarlet and green, floating and fluttering in the air.
Not a ghost; Wei Wuxian could feel it. No resentful energy or lingering memories accompanied the vision, only a fierce, protective determination. Her head bowed over Wangji’s repaired soundboard in a way that seemed strangely familiar, but only after her transparent hands covered Lan Wangji’s and she lifted her head could Wei Wuxian see her face.
Zheng Lianxiang — but younger, smooth and intangible, the air around her hands blurring where they melded with Lan Wangji’s solid, living ones.
Wei Wuxian didn’t understand whatever she was doing, but it seemed to have an effect. Lan Zhan dove in front of Sizhui, set his shoulders and strummed a fierce, defiant chord. The pale glow of the air around the guqin shivered, the notes of ‘Cleansing’ echoing in the air. The shadows roared, attention caught between the music it hated and the demanding notes of Wei Wuxian’s dizi behind it. It hovered, indecisive, and Wen Ning slammed into it again, sending it reeling backward.
They fought in the slick mud and the biting wind and the damp grey autumn. Wei Wuxian’s tendrils of resentful energy tried to keep the creature fixed in place, Wen Ning always ready to force it back when it got too close to any of them. Lan Zhan played until his fingers bled, the shimmering apparition growing fainter with each note.
At last Sizhui stirred, dazed, pushing himself gingerly back up to his knees. His guqin was cradled in his arms, a dark bruise blossoming on his cheek. He shook his head as if to clear it, worried gaze darting from the darkness to Lan Wangji before him. Dark eyes blazing in challenge, he dragged his hands over the strings again.
He played on, determined, head bent over the strings in concentration. The shadows fell over him, and Wei Wuxian could see him tense, but he didn’t look up. Sizhui still trusted them, his family, to keep the beast off him while he worked. And each of them would protect him with their lives.
And slowly — imperceptible at first, so gradual as to be barely noticed — it was working. The shadows’ stark edges blurred, the darkness howling as it curled reluctantly in on itself like the shrinking of a dying spider. Wen Ning spent more time holding onto it than striking it now, and each time Wei Wuxian’s coils of resentment drew away, there was less substance in the hovering cloud. Blood still trickled from Lan Wangji’s nose and coated the strings of his guqin, and the wobbling image of Madam Zheng so faded it was barely visible. But Sizhui seemed to take strength from them both, his music growing bolder and more potent with every chord.
With a final shriek of rage, the shadows burst. The darkness collapsed in on itself like a dying star, and a wild blast of resentful fury exploded through the clearing, blinding and deafening, before it faded away.
Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly until the light blurring his eyes resolved into vision. Lan Wangji sat limply on the ground, staring down at his blood-streaked hands. Sizhui knelt next to him, speaking softly. There was no sign of the apparition, or the creature.
‘Gongzi,’ Wen Ning said softly, and Wei Wuxian rubbed at his ears. It sounded like they were filled with wool.
‘I’m fine,’ he promised, hastening to where his son and husband sat on the rocky rise. ‘Lan Zhan! A-Yuan!’ He swayed a little as he hurried to them, but Wen Ning kindly didn’t call him out on it. He flung himself onto the ground next to Lan Zhan, reaching up to blot the blood from his face.
Strong fingers closed around his wrist. ‘Wei Ying,’ Lan Wangji said gently, and it meant I ’m all right and Don ’t worry and Are you all right all at once.
‘Lan Zhan,’ Wei Wuxian said helplessly, because Lan Zhan should not be bleeding. ‘What happened?’
Instead of answering the question, Lan Wangji stroked the back of his hand and nodded his head toward Lan Sizhui. ‘The plan was successful.’
Sizhui looked down at his own raw fingertips, at the streaks of dark blood across Wangji’s repaired soundboard, and up at Wei Wuxian’s worried face — and burst into tears.
*
They staggered back to the inn, victorious but exhausted, weary and full of questions. The lanterns fluttered weakly outside, only half of them lit, and the common room was empty and dim.
‘Madam Zheng?’ At first there was no sign of their host, and Wei Wuxian bustled Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui to a table to sit down. Then they saw her, slumped in a chair in one corner of the room with a cooling cup of tea on the table in front of her. She looked up when they entered, and started to get to her feet, but stumbled back into the chair.
‘You stay there,’ Wei Wuxian said. She was obviously exhausted, and all his many questions could be answered sitting down. ‘Wen Ning, with me. You all just rest.’ It was a testament to how tired the others were that no one protested, and Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning made themselves useful in the kitchen. Wei Wuxian made tea and retrieved wine, while Wen Ning made rice and fried vegetables and tofu and batted Wei Wuxian’s hand away from the bottle of chili oil. He pouted, but it was really only a symbolic, token resistance before he helped carry the dishes out to the table. Madam Zheng had joined Lan Wangji and Sizhui, all of them speaking in low voices.
‘For how long?’ Lan Sizhui was asking as Wei Wuxian set a bowl down in front of him. He passed one to Lan Wangji next, who tugged Wei Wuxian down into the space next to him, pressed against his side. He still looked pale, but already improved. There was still a dash of drying blood across the hem of his sleeve.
‘We were incorrect in our conclusions,’ he explained, plucking a mushroom from the bowl with his chopsticks and holding it to Wei Wuxian’s lips. Who spluttered, but took the bite. He liked being spoiled, and if it made Lan Zhan feel better to feed him, who was he to complain?
‘What conclusions?’ he asked.
Madam Zheng turned a weary smile in his direction and clarified, ‘I am not a cultivator.’
The earliest sprout of a suspicion began to form in Wei Wuxian’s mind, but before he could coax a seedling out of it, Lan Sizhui spoke up and explained, ‘She’s a guqin spirit.’
‘Wait — really?’
Wei Wuxian had experience with spiritual tools and weapons possessed of a certain amount of independent will. Chenqing was a special case, of course; Suibian sealing itself after their separation was rare enough, and generally the extent of what swords were likely to do. Lan Yi’s white guqin in the cold pond cave was the strongest musical cultivation tool he or Lan Wangji had seen, but even it hadn’t quite been sentient. A spiritual instrument that could take a human form was something very special indeed.
The innkeeper nodded. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, the skin dry and dull. Her lips were drawn and wrinkled beneath the blotched red stain that coloured them. ‘I was a Lan once too,’ she admitted, a little sad. ‘Of sorts. My instrument was smashed long ago. Its player, too, has been gone for many years.’
Lan Wangji’s hand rested possessively on Wei Wuxian’s knee. ‘So when the creature was first released, and our sect did not know….’ He trailed off, looking troubled, and Wei Wuxian squeezed his fingers.
‘I was already living here then,’ Madam Zheng confirmed. ‘First, the village sent messages. None of them reached anyone who could help us. A few tried — we learned the hard way that most cultivators were not the monster’s match. And those who were…they were already in the war. So I did my best. I could not contain the creature, but I could mislead it. Keep it busy, keep it confused.’ The painted slash of her mouth curved, rueful. ‘In the long term, of course, this made it angrier, but at the time it was the best I could do.’
‘And after the war,’ Wei Wuxian said quietly, regretful, ‘the sects were all busy with other things, and there were no Wen to ask.’
Even the shadow of her smile faded. ‘Yes. Although even if I had known that one remained,’ she added ruefully, with a glance toward Lan Sizhui, ‘it would still have been necessary to wait for him to grow up.’
Really, a Wen who could do Lan musical cultivation was the only solution to this problem, and despite his regret at not having been able to try to solve it for them in his first life, Wei Wuxian felt rather pleased with the outcome. Part of the outcome, at least — not the part where Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui were injured, or the guqin smashed. And that just brought up more questions.
‘Now what?’ Lan Sizhui asked, between bites of tofu and aubergine. ‘Is Madam Zheng part of Hanguang-jun’s guqin now? I’ve read about objects who form a soul and a body, but I’ve never met one before — I don’t really know how it works,’ he finished, with an apologetic look toward Lan Wangji. Which Wei Wuxian didn’t think was warranted, really; plenty of the Lan’s esoteric teachings were entirely theoretical, and this wasn’t exactly a common occurrence.
Lan Wangji shook his head. ‘It is extremely unusual,’ he agreed. ‘I know only the theory myself. It takes a good deal of spiritual power, and a lot of time.’ To Wei Wuxian, who after all made a regular study of cataloguing all his expressions, he looked curious.
‘And it is a story for another time,’ Madam Zheng said wistfully. Wei Wuxian wanted to ask her about it, but he could be patient. It had been an exhausting day for everyone. ‘But to answer your question, Lan Sizhui: not exactly. I am my own self, as is this instrument. But because I helped Hanguang-jun repair it, I had some connection to it, which allowed me to lend it my own energy. I have no doubt left a lasting mark on it, but that is all.’ The edges of her mouth drooped, the faint smile fading away, and she said, ‘It feels good to have a connection with the Gusu Lan sect again, but I am very tired.’
‘We can take care of ourselves for today,’ Wei Wuxian promised. ‘You should go and rest. You’ve done more than enough!’
For a moment it looked as if she might protest, but then her slim shoulders slumped and she nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you.’
She rose, wobbling slightly. Lan Sizhui hopped at once to his feet and escorted her away, promising the whole time that they would take care of everything. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian finished eating quickly, and helped Wen Ning clean up. When Lan Sizhui returned they lit the remaining lanterns and stoked the fire, at which point Wen Ning shooed the others away.
‘You’re all injured,’ he said sensibly, although he’d taken as much damage from the creature as any of them. ‘Go clean up and rest. I can watch the inn.’
Which was how Wei Wuxian ended up leading Lan Wangji back to their room, where he could check every inch of him for injuries. Lan Wangji put up with it very patiently for a while, which Wei Wuxian rewarded by kissing all the places he was hurt, and then all the places he might be, and then a lot of places he wasn’t hurt at all just for good measure.
At which point, Lan Wangji seized hold of his wrists. ‘Wei Ying,’ he murmured, in a voice that made Wei Wuxian’s skin feel prickly and yet about to melt at the same time.
‘I just hate to see you get hurt!’ he protested, resting his chin in the angular curve of Lan Wangji’s shoulder. ‘You’d be exactly the same if it were the other way around.’
A soft rumble of agreement, and Lan Zhan’s lips brushed against his hair. ‘And is Wei Ying satisified that I am whole and well?’
Wei Wuxian considered this — taking into account the solid, warm weight of the body against him, the soft heat of the breath ghosting against his hair, the way strong fingers stroked absently over his robe. ‘I might need to check again. Very thoroughly this time.’
He didn’t think he’d ever get over Lan Zhan’s wanting little smile, or the heat that flooded through him when he was effortlessly picked up and deposited onto the bed. ‘Check all you like,’ Lan Wangji said darkly, a delicious promise in his voice, and Wei Wuxian pulled him in close.
*
The rain wearied itself overnight, and morning dawned bright and clear and cold. The locals who stopped into the inn for breakfast were cheerful, and talked amongst themselves how it felt like the air itself was lighter, the woods around them less ominous. Even Madam Zheng admitted she hadn’t realised before just how much the beast’s presence, even outside the boundaries of the village itself, had affected the area.
They stayed one day longer: recovering, surveying the damage and clearing up small pockets of lingering resentment. The shattered trees would grow back, and in the meantime the woodcutters’ work would be easier. The insistent hovering mist retreated, letting the mountain sun stretch long golden fingers toward the rainsoaked ground.
It was time to say farewell.
‘Wouldn’t you like to come back with us?’ Lan Sizhui asked Madam Zheng. They were standing outside the door to the inn, beneath the bright bobbing lanterns swinging from the eaves in the breeze. ‘You could see Cloud Recesses again.’
She smiled gently, but shook her head. ‘Maybe someday,’ she promised, because nobody could resist A-Yuan’s big sad eyes. ‘But this has been my home for a long time now.’ Sizhui pouted — not that he would admit that’s what he was doing, but since Wei Wuxian knew his tells as well as Lan Wangji’s, he could see these things — but subsided, and saluted her politely. ‘Thank you.’
She clasped her hands in front of her, cultivator-style, and bowed in return. ‘I am the one who thanks you. Already my home improves, and it could not have happened without you.’
She turned to Wen Ning, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian with the same gesture, which they returned. ‘Of course I thank you as well. And I hope Hanguang-jun’s instrument is fully restored before long.’
The farewells said, the visitors departed. At the road out of the village they paused, looking awkwardly at each other.
‘Where will you go now?’ Lan Wangji asked.
Lan Sizhui and Wen Ning traded glances. ‘We’re not sure yet. Our plans changed, when we came here.’
Wei Wuxian spread his arms wide. ‘What a coincidence! We’re not sure either!’ Maybe, just maybe, the time had come they could put all their individual journeys aside, just for a little while. ‘What do you think? We could all just be not sure in the same direction, for now. See where the wind takes us.’
The agreement was instantaneous. ‘I don’t see why not,’ Wen Ning mused, as Lan Sizhui’s face lit up. ‘It’s been a while since we found the kind of trouble only Wei-gongzi can get into.’
‘Slander! Lies! Lan Zhan, did you hear that?’ Wei Wuxian sputtered, laughing, then grabbed hold of Lan Wangji’s arm and started to pull him away down the road. Sizhui followed, laughing, and Wen Ning’s stiff face just managed to look tolerantly fond.
Above in the new-cleared sky, the sun broke through a billowing puff of cloud. Around them the sounds of the forest slowly returned, underbrush echoing with the calls of curious birds and insects and the rustling of small animals finding their way home. And Wei Wuxian, surrounded by his favourite people — the love of his life, the child of his heart, and an old, true friend — welcomed whatever adventures would come.