Chapter Text
Muqin loved to sing.
That is what he would say if someone asks him about his mother.
He remembers sitting on her lap with his head cuddled in her arms. He remembers closing his eyes and enjoying the sound of Muqin's singing.
It is why he likes singing, too. It is something he got from muqin, so he treasures it.
The second thing he would say is muqin was kind.
She can be brazen sometimes, from what he can remember. She always enjoyed teasing him and making him do crazy things that go against what Shifu is teaching him (he thinks it is silly, but he likes the way muqin smiles when he does what she wants, likes the way she pokes his cheek when he pouts, so he still ends up doing what she wanted), but muqin is kind through and through. The way she looks at him and xiongzhang, the warmth in her eyes and the love in her action can never be faked.
Years after her death, he still wonders why anyone can accuse her of being anything but virtuous, how anyone can accuse her of being a criminal when she had shown nothing but love and kindness to him and xiongzhang.
If someone would still persist, the last thing he would say to whoever cares enough to ask him about muqin is that if there is one thing he will never forget about muqin is her laugh.
Hearing her laugh is like seeing her for the first time after a month of anticipating their next visit.
Every time muqin laughs, it is like him discovering something new that fascinates him to no end.
Hearing her laugh makes his teeth itch like he just ate the sweets xiongzhang secretly buys for him as a present whenever he goes out of Cloud Recesses.
After muqin's death, there will be days and nights when the world stills around him, and he will hear the familiar laughter of his muqin behind his ears.
The world stops.
He stops and relishes the sound whenever he could, because he knows that when he turns around, there will be no muqin there to make him laugh, too.
There will never be a muqin there anymore.
The world stops, he stops, and he does not know if it will ever start again.
Lan Wangji never did.
Xiongzhang loves music.
He thinks it is because of the influence of their clan, but he knows it is because of muqin.
Muqin loves music, but she is not musically inclined with instruments like her husband (his father) and his clan (his clan), so she was always excited when xiongzhang played her songs on his xiao and guqin.
He plays her songs on his guqin, too, but he is still young and inexperienced compared to his brother, and he cannot really accompany muqin well when she sings, so it is xiongzhang who will play for hours until sunset.
The joy in the eyes of muqin when she listens to the music in the air will always be etched deep in his mind.
He knows that it is the same for xiongzhang.
Moreso for him, Lan Zhan believes, because music brings muqin joy and they both know that joy is scarce in muqin's little cottage surrounded by gentians with only herself to keep her company until the next moon.
And then muqin dies, and Lan Zhan rarely finds joy in anything else.
Not even music can bring him the same feeling he had when he stayed in muqin's little cottage once a month.
After all, would a deaf man ever enjoy hearing his favorite songs when he cannot truly hear them anymore?
He feels that way every day when he remembers that he cannot hear muqin's laughter and will never again anymore.
Time passes by him, and the numbing feeling inside of him grows as each day passes by.
Before he knows it, Lan Zhan becomes Lan Wangji, the second jade of Lan, the first disciple of his generation of the Gusu Lan Sect.
He feels numb throughout, and the burdens of his responsibilities rarely matter to him anymore. Every day, he just goes through the motion seamlessly, and Lan Wangji finally finds a reason to be grateful for being born in the Gusu Lan Sect.
The three thousand rules engraved on the walls of the mountain became his guide for living.
Lan Wangji knows he is an obedient child growing up.
He never saw any reason to disobey Shifu when he taught him their rules.
After muqin died, not only he never saw a reason to disobey, he also started not to see a reason to do anything.
Following the rules is better.
He does not have to think.
He does not need any reason.
He just has to do because the rules are the rules.
Following the rules means he can continue living.
Following the rules became Lan Wangji's everything.
"These rules aren't everything, you know."
Xiongzhang became good friends with the Nie Sect Heir ever since they met almost two years ago.
Nie Mingyue is everything that xiongzhang is not. He speaks too loudly, his face is too fearsome, and he is also headstrong.
But xiongzhang and Sect Heir Nie are good friends, and he can clearly see that they complement each other despite their endless differences, so Lan Wangji sees nothing wrong with their friendship.
Sect Heir Nie is visiting the Cloud Recesses for the first time, with him is his half-brother, Nie Huaisang, who is younger than him by mere months.
Unlike xiongzhang and Sect Heir Nie, Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang do not become good friends despite their endless difference.
Nie Huaisang is too timid, too cowardly, and too jumpy for someone who is supposedly the blood brother of Sect Heir Nie.
Despite their apparent incompatibility, Lan Wangji still does his duty and entertains their guest as per decorum.
They are in the Library Pavilion, with Nie Huaisang sitting in front of him, fan spread open in front of him, covering more than half of his face when he hears Nie Huaisang speak.
Lan Wangji returns his brush to its place and places a paperweight made out of pure jade on top of his paper and turns his body towards the fidgeting Nie disciple.
"Nie-gongzi is saying something?"
Nie Huaisang does not meet his eyes as he edges away from the table. He raises his fan higher until only his eyes are seen from his face.
"I said," he stutters, "the rules aren't everything."
He repeats what he already has heard.
Lan Wangji nods at him to show that he acknowledges what the Nie disciple just said.
Lan Wangji does not say anything and waits for anything else he would like to add.
Nie Huaisang darts his eyes towards him, and Lan Wangji can see his eyebrows furrowing from where he sat.
"Why..." he starts as he slowly lowers his fan, "do you make it like the rules are everything there is to life?"
This time, it is he who does not meet Nie Huaisang's eyes.
He looks down at his paper and eyes the characters he just wrote.
The characters are familiar to him, more familiar to him than anything. He knows these characters like fish to water.
He takes time before he replies to the question given to him.
Not because he does not know the answer, no, but because he does not know where to start answering in the first place.
There is just a lot to say, but also at the same time, nothing can be said to answer that question. But he was asked a question, and it is rude not to respond, so he tries to find the closest he could to answer Nie Huaisang.
"Because they are."
If the rules are not made to be his life, then Lan Wangji will surely now know what his life is.
Rules are meant to be followed.
Rules are created for a reason.
Rules are the only thing that gives meaning to his meaningless life.
If they were not, then what was?
Lan Wangji sleeps at exactly nine in the evening and wakes at exactly five in the morning.
He sleeps at nine, wakes at five, like all the disciples of the Gusu Lan Sect.
Sleep at nine, wake at five.
He does not like it, but he prefers this routine over spending more time in the evening awake for patrols.
Lan Wangji rarely dislikes anything. He even rarely has an opinion on anything.
But Lan Wangji does not like to stay up late and break his norm.
The nights are long in Gusu, and up here in the Cloud Recesses, the nights are long and quiet.
Quiet is unavoidable.
Quiet is in his nature.
But the quiet during the night is different for Lan Wangji.
When he walks along the moonlit paths of Cloud Recesses and the sounds of the crickets are too low for him to hear (like they are afraid to make noises as if they know that loud noises are prohibited in Cloud Recesses), Lan Wangji will hear a sound from his memory that will make him halt.
Halt.
Stop.
Cannot move pass.
Do not want to move on.
It is the sound of muqin's laughter that is sweeter than any candy, joyful than any melody of the guqin, and full of warmth that will forever be absent in this cold, dead night.
He stops.
Listens.
The moon is bright as always, and Lan Wangji will never hear this sound ever again outside his memories.
Or so he thought.
It starts small.
He does not even know how he hears it. He is more than a hundred meters away from the sound.
He actually thought it was all in his head (as it usually is), and he would not even think it is strange if it is.
Most of the time, Lan Wangji feels like he is living in his head.
It starts small, but it creates a gigantic wave in Lan Wangji's steady heart.
The laughter is sweet, full of joy and warmth, which he only ever heard from muqin's laughter.
He cannot help but raise his head like a dog hearing a sharp whistle that cannot be heard by human ears.
He clutches Bichen tighter in his hands, his feet acting faster than his brain can catch up with starts its trek towards the source of the sound.
The farther he walks, the closer he gets, the louder the sound of his heartbeat he hears behind his ears and the louder the sound of the laughter becomes.
Brushing away the leaves the block his path, Lan Wangji stops and sees two silhouettes of disciples like him hunched together and whispering to themselves.
The moon is bright tonight, and Lan Wangji always had good eyesight, so the distinct shade of purple robes is noticeable for him even at this distance.
Two Yunmeng Jiang Disciples is what welcomed him in after his short bout of impulse and curiosity.
The shorter of the two has a braided bun, and Lan Wangji knows he has seen this face before. He just cannot remember where he had.
The other Yunmeng Jiang disciple has his back from him, and the only thing he can observe from him is his high ponytail tied up with a ribbon of a vibrant shade of red.
He does not know which of them made that sound he did not know he thirsted for.
Lan Wangji unconsciously bites his tongue in anxiety.
He wants to hear that sound again.
He needs to hear that sound again.
And as if his unsaid desires were heard, the Yunmeng Jiang disciple with the face he cannot see huddles closer to the familiar disciple in front of him, says something he cannot hear from this distance, before letting out another round of melodious laughter.
Lan Wangji watches with bated breath as the source of the sound he sought for gets shoved angrily by the familiar Yunmeng Jiang disciple Lan Wangji thinks to be the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Heir.
More.
He needs to hear that sound more.
He takes a step, a mistake, for it breaks the illusion he has, and the noise of the broken twigs he makes startles the Yunmeng Jiang Sect heir.
Jiang Wanyin, he remembers his name belatedly.
The Yunmeng Jiang disciple with the same laugh as muqin is with the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Heir, Jiang Wanyin.
Jiang Wanyin snaps his head towards and sends him a guarded look, grabbing the arms of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect disciple and pulls him closer to him as if protecting him from an unknown danger.
Lan Wangji frowns to himself for his clumsiness. He should have reigned his desires more.
He steps out into the light with a raised head, his demeanor unthreatening.
He sees the recognition in Jiang Wanyin's eyes. He does not know if it is recognition to his person or recognition to his robes and forehead ribbon that identifies him as a Gusu Lan Sect disciple.
Either way, it manages to lessen the guard of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Heir to the point of him sending Lan Wangji a nod of acknowledgement.
He returns his nod with a quiet look.
His eyes stray back to the Yunmeng Jiang disciple, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.
But the Yunmeng Jiang disciple does not turn around, and before he could even see anything, Jiang Wanyin grabs the Yunmeng Jiang disciple roughly and drags him far away.
Far away from him.
It has been minutes, maybe even an hour.
Lan Wangji does not know how we found the other Lan disciples, but he does.
He does not know how far he has gone, but he manages to walk away after the two Yunmeng Jiang disciples left him.
(After Jiang Wanyin dragged that Yunmeng Jiang disciple away from him, his mind whispers viciously.)
Lan Wangji frowns.
He does not feel comfortable with how that sounded in his mind.
He swings Bichen as he strikes down a fierce corpse that escapes the two Lan disciples before him.
He does this absentmindedly.
Aside from his wayward thoughts, his head is still ringing with the same laughter that plagues his dreams for more than half his life.
A commotion distracts him from drowning in his thoughts.
His ears twitch as they pick up soft chatters behind him from the new Lan disciples who joined his group.
"Deplorable, honestly. Just because he is the son of the current Chief Cultivator, he thinks he already is above everyone."
"Wen Chao is infamous for this bad behavior. It is just surprising he would do that kind of thing even to his shidi."
Lan Wangji listens quietly.
He knows he should be condoning this behavior already. After all, the rules say that gossiping is prohibited.
But something urges him to keep quiet and continue listening in.
(Hypocrite, his mind snarls at him, eavesdropping is prohibited, too.)
"But those Yunmeng Jiang disciples are courageous, butting in the Wen Clan affairs like that."
"Shh, don't speak so loudly! But you're right, one of them is even the Yunmeng Jiang Sect heir!"
Lan Wangji stills when he hears the Lan disciples mention Jiang Wanyin.
A red ribbon tied up in silky black hair and laughter ringing like bells in summer afternoon flash through his mind.
"Shouldn't we inform someone about it?"
"Inform who? Aiya, just forget about it. From what I last saw, they're heading straight to Burial Mounds. I hear nothing but bad things about that place. It's best we do not get involved."
Lan Wangji turns around, "What's in Burial Mounds?" his mouth opens and asks before his brain can catch up.
The two gossiping Lan disciples freeze under his gaze, scared painted all over their faces for being caught.
He frowns and asks again, "What's in Burial Mounds?"
The shorter of the two disciples bows his head and stutters out, "B-Burial Mounds is a place full of fierce corpses and vengeful ghosts. The Qishan Wen closed it off due to its dense resentful energy."
Hearing it now, Lan Wangji remembers reading about this Burial Mounds.
And it is what the Lan disciple says. He remembers nothing but bad things about it.
"Where?"
The Lan disciples around him look at him with startled looks, but he pays them no mind.
"I-It's... Qianbei, I don't think it's sa-"
Lan Wangji cuts him off with a shake of his head. "Where," he demands again.
The Lan disciple raises a trembling hand and points northwest.
He hears the loud howling of the fierce corpses and sees the rise of torrents of resentful energy as soon as he reaches the horizon where Burial Mounds should be located.
Lan Wangji urges Bichen to fly him faster.
It takes him only a minute to reach the edge of the cliff, and he is so close to reaching the Burial Mounds when a pulse of resentful energy so dense resonates in the air.
The scope is so vast, and he could not do anything to avoid it.
He gets hit.
He is thrown away from Bichen.
Lan Wangji falls.
He turns to look pass the edge as he is falling.
He sees a silhouette of a man in red clothing being surrounded by fierce corpses in the middle of the Burial Mound grounds.
The red of his robe is as red as the silk ribbon in the hair of that Yunmeng Jiang Disciple.
The resentful energy pulls him down faster to the ground.
The man turns around, and Lan Wangji sees him carrying two limp bodies in familiar purple robes close to his chest.
He sees the black resentful energy tremble before turning to red, surrounding the red-clothed man like a mist of perfume.
He sees a shock wave coming from the red-clothed man obliterate the fierce corpses around him.
He sees the red-clothed man shatter into silver butterflies, and with him, the two Yunmeng Jiang disciples he was following disappears without a trace.
He sees...
Lan Wangji fell.
Xiongzhang tells him he has been sleeping for three days since the night hunt in Yiling when he comes to it.
Xiongzhang tells him it is because it took them long to cleanse the resentful energy that clung in his heart for hours they were trapped inside Night Hunt grounds.
Xiongzhang tells him about the descend of the Heavenly Officials and the purging of Burial Mounds.
Lan Wangji listens quietly, nodding when xiongzhang asks him if he is feeling alright.
"Wangji..." He moves his gaze away from his open palm and looks at xiongzhang sitting next to his bed, a cup of water in his steady hands. "Talk to me, didi. What happened that night?"
He frowns.
He turns to look back at the open palm in his lap.
He closes his palm slowly and opens it again.
"No one knows what happened. Everyone who was in the Night Hunt has no memories of anything that happened that night." Xiongzhang continues quietly, his voice deeply coated with worry that Lan Wangji often hears growing up. "Do you remember anything? Were you...Do you remember why you were so close to Burial Mounds?"
Lan Wangji closes his eyes and leans back against the head of his bed.
He searches for that night in his memory.
It might be three days since, but him, it was just last night.
He remembers leading the junior disciples to the Night Hunt grounds.
He remembers going... and then...
Lan Wangji groans, his hand raises to clutch his head as if it can ease the throbbing of his head.
He cannot remember.
He cannot remember anything after going inside the Yiling forest.
"It's okay, Wangji." Xiongzhang soothes him, his hand rubbing his back in comfort. "You do not have to force yourself."
He is not.
He is not forcing himself, but he just feels uncomfortable when knowing he forgot that night.
It was as if he found out something that he does not want to forget and yet still did.
What did he find?
It was not something important, but it feels like it mattered to him a lot.
What was it?
Wangji cannot remember.
"I..." the throbbing of his head becomes more vigorous, his ears ringing in pain. The noise in his head is too loud in this quiet room with only him and his brother.
Wangji does not like this sound.
It sounds painful, so very unlike that...
"Laugh..."
The hand of xiongzhang stop at the middle of his back. "Laugh?"
Lan Wangji mutely groans, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. "En," he weakly nods, "I heard a laugh."
"You heard a laugh," Xiongzhang repeats with confusion evident in his voice, "You heard a laugh and followed it to Burial Mounds?"
Lan Wangji does not answer anything in reply.
He cannot remember what exactly he did, but he does not feel anything wrong with that suggestion so it might be probably the closest to the truth.
He hears nothing for a few seconds before he hears a sigh and a soft thud of the cup being placed back on the table.
"So you heard a laughter and followed it to Burial Mounds..." Xiongzhang summarizes, still hesitant to accept this as a fact, "...do you remember what happened next after you followed it?"
Lan Wangji breathes slowly, eyes still closed in pain as flashes of what he thinks are memories of that night flash behind his closed eyes.
The memories are moving too fast, too bright, and he cannot grasp anything tangible that can provide a concrete answer to the question of xiongzhang.
He feels the distress of xiongzhang beside him, and he knew he had to give him an answer to lessen his worries.
He tries to find an answer that is the closest to the truth that he cannot grasp.
"Red." He whispers, voice still hoarse from being unused for days. "I saw red."
When Lan Xichen meets with Nie Mingjue a month after Lan Wangji wakes up, the first thing Nie Mingjue does when he sees him is slowly say, "amazing."
Lan Xichen hums in question, his usual smile plastered on his face. "What's amazing?"
Nie Mingjue snorts as he takes the seat in front of him Xichen. "Your face is amazing."
Xichen continues to smile as he tilts his head slightly to the side, "my face?"
"Yeah," Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes, "who knew your face could look so calm and so distraught at the same time?"
Xichen leans back, his smile dropping a bit. "Is it that noticeable?"
"To me, hell yeah," Nie Mingjue answers, grabbing the wine jar beside the teapot containing Xichen's order of tea. "But to others, no. No one can manage to stare long enough at the face of the First Jade of the Gusu Lan Sect to notice such a thing."
Nie Mingjue pours a generous amount of wine in his wine cup and drinks it straight up.
He pours another one, and drinks it right away again, before letting go of both the wine jar and wine cup back to the table.
"Okay," Nie Mingjue says with a steady nod, "I'm ready. You may now start."
Like a puppet with its string cut off, Xichen slumps his shoulder, and his smile gets turned into a frown. "Wangji is in seclusion."
Nie Mingjue looks at him quietly, and Xichen looks back with the same silence after uttering his problem.
Nie Mingjue raises a hand, gesturing for Xichen to wait.
Xichen raises a questioning eyebrow.
What? Did Nie Mingjue expect him to stand up and leave when he has not even started?
Xichen's questioning look turns into a disappointed frown when Nie Mingjue pushes the wine cup to the side, grabs the wine jar, and chugs directly from it, clearly forgetting all the etiquette he has learned in the etiquette classes all Sect Heir must have had growing up.
Nie Mingjue gasps as he finishes all the wine in the wine jar.
He slams the empty wine jar back to the table and gives another deep nod to Xichen. "Okay," he says, "now I'm ready. You may start again."
Xichen sighs. He uncharacteristically raises a hand to rub his temple. "Wangji is in seclusion. He asked for it willingly after he woke up from his deep sleep."
Nie Mingjue nods, "It is understandable. Even when cleansed, trace marks of being touched by resentful energy is not easily removed from one's golden core."
Xichen shakes his head, his hand dropping to clutch the teacup in front of him. "There is nothing wrong with Wangji's core." He frowns, "I think something happened to Wangji in Yiling."
"A lot of things happened in Yiling, Xichen." Nie Mingjue points out, "and not just with your brother. No one even remembers anything from that night, not even before the blowout of resentful energy in Yiling."
Xichen shakes his head again, hands trembling with how tight he is holding the teacup in it, "No," he disagrees, "Yiling might have been blanketed by that resentful energy, but I don't think it happened in Yiling mountains."
Nie Mingjue frowns, "What are you saying?"
Xichen sighs, shoulders slumping even more. "I saw Wangji passed out near the border of Burial Mounds."
"Burial Mounds is far away from the hunting grounds!"
Xichen bites his lips, "I know. That's why it does not seem right for Wangji to be there."
Nie Mingjue frowns, "You told me he doesn't remember anything as well."
Xichen looks outside the window beside him.
He recalls the events that happened that night.
After getting everyone out of Yiling, the cultivation clans decided to investigate what happened right away.
What they discovered next day was this: all the resentful energy in Yiling and its neighboring territories for miles out has vanished, and the Burial Mounds that Xichen just saw hours before is closed off with a seal that no one can break.
Those Heavenly Officials must have sealed it off after everyone left.
"He doesn't," Xichen answers, "but I tried asking Wangji why he was there."
"And?" Nie Mingjue prompts.
Xichen squints his eyes. The sun is too bright this afternoon.
"He said he heard a laugh."
"A laugh?" Nie Mingjue asks incredulously.
"Yes," Xichen nods. "He heard a laugh, and he followed it to the Burial Mounds."
"Did he find anything after following it?"
"I would like to think so," Xichen sighs, "Wangji never lies, but he would not answer me straight when I asked him what he saw."
"He wouldn't answer straight, you say." Nie Mingjue taps his fingers against the table. "So that means he told you something."
"He did."
The tapping of Nie Mingjue's finger becomes erratic and louder. "And?"
"He told me he saw red."
The tapping sound stops. "Red?"
"Red."
"Red, red? Or red as in crimson red?"
"Just red."
"And nothing else?"
"Nothing else."
Silence descends their table.
Xichen slowly raises the teacup to his lips and takes a sip.
"Xichen," Nie Mingjue grunts, "you need to buy me another jar of this wine for this."
"...I'll make it two."
"Sneaking out again?"
Jiang Cheng flinches when he hears someone ask behind him.
He swirls around and sees a familiar youth hidden behind a recognizable fan.
"Nie Huaisang," Jiang Cheng grounds out, "are you stalking me now?"
Jiang Cheng frowns to himself when he receives a mocking raised eyebrow from his stalker.
That mocking raised eyebrow is a yes.
How come Jiang Cheng did not notice someone following behind him?
No, Jiang Cheng knows he is quite good at noticing presence around him.
He learned how to do it from Lord Black Water during the lessons he had with Wei Wuxian.
Jiang Cheng looks suspiciously at the usually bumbling youth.
He underestimated this Nie Huaisang.
"Fine," Jiang Cheng snaps as he crosses his arm against his chest. "What do you want?"
Nie Huaisang snaps his fan close, and a huge grin shows on his face that is mildly irritating Jiang Cheng to another level.
"Bring me with you."
"Denied." He flatly refused. "Ask another one."
Nie Huaisang harrumphs, tilting his chin upward. "You're so cheap, Jiang Cheng. It's like these three months of us bonding together mean nothing to you."
Jiang Cheng's hair on his arms raises from the uncomfortable feeling those words brought to him. "What do you mean bonding? We didn't bond! You pestered me the whole time, and I was tolerating you like a good host!"
Nie Huaisang hums, tapping his closed fan against his nose. He looks at Jiang Cheng with judgement in his eyes.
Seeing the same gesture done by Lord Water Master is cool, but seeing it done by Nie Huaisang is frankly rage-inducing.
"Sure, good host," Nie Huaisang says pleasantly, his voice grating his ears, "thanks for allowing me to hide in Yunmeng while my brother fixes the problem with the fierce corpses in the Unclean Realm."
"My pleasure, good guest," Jiang Cheng spats, voice equally dripping g with pleasantness, "now why don't you continue to hide in your room and paint some more lotus ponds, hmm?"
Nie Huaisang pouts his lips, closing his eyes as if he is thinking.
Every second that Nie Huaisang wasted is another tally in Jiang Cheng's mind on how many times he should beat Nie Huaisang for being Nie Huaisang.
"Okay," Nie Huaisang finally says, snapping his fan open like the dramatic shit he is, "I'll go back to my room if you tell me where you've been every time you sneak out on the same day for three months."
Jiang Cheng closes his left hand on his right fist that is tempted to strike (just one, just one punch) to Nie Huaisang's cheeky face.
He is not even as cute as Wei Wuxian when he is being a little shit.
Ah, fuck, he did not just think that.
Damn the heavens (er, well, maybe not His Majesty)! His withdrawals are getting more severe every day.
"How about..." Jiang Cheng says slowly, eyes closed in and a broad smile on his face, "I don't tell you where I go, and I also won't tell your brother about the porn books you have been selling to our disciples, hmm?"
"..."
Nie Huaisang suddenly bursts out laughing as he fans himself harder, "You sure know how to joke, Sect Heir Jiang! I'll see you for dinner! Enjoy your afternoon."
Jiang Cheng watches with a smug look on his face as Nie Huaisang turns around and screams back to his quarters like a fleeing mosquito.
"Way too early to try those tricks on me, Huaisang. Way too early."
He grew up with Wei Wuxian.
Nie Huaisang is not even on the same scale.
Wait until those two meet, then for sure...
Wait a minute. What the hell is thinking?
Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang?
Absolutely not.
He cannot babysit both of them at the same time!
He will go insane!
Fuck, rebuke evil thoughts!
Men will not be in trouble if they do not ask for trouble.
Just what was he thinking?
He blames it all on his Wei Wuxian withdrawals.
Just how long can a year be?
The answer is very long.
Very, very, long.
Jiang Cheng lowers the hood of the cloak he got from Yue-jiejie, eyeing the door of the tea house from time to time.
He fingers the rim of his teacup, before raising it to his lips and drinking the tea in it.
He bites his tongue as he swallows the tea he only gets to taste once a month since Wei Wuxian went to seclusion.
Jiang Cheng jolts when he hears a peal of familiar laughter in front of him, "Still not used to drinking tea?"
He lowers his hand and places back the teacup on the table.
Jiang Cheng looks up and smiles, "I'd prefer wine over tea, honestly," he says.
Hua Chengzhu smirks at him, elbow leaning against the table and chin propped on top of his hands. "And every day I blame He Xuan for this bad habit of yours and A-Ying."
Jiang Cheng stifles a burst of laughter. "It's not just Lord Black Water. General Nan Yang influenced us, too."
Hua Chengzhu snorts, "And everyday gege blames Feng Xin as well, so it evens out."
Jiang Cheng finally lets out a chuckle and sighs, "How is he, Chengzhu?" He asks as he looks down on his lap.
He feels a hand land on his head, "Don't worry about A-Ying too much," Hua Chengzhu scolds him, "he's doing fine."
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, his hands balling into fists on his side. "Is it still the same as last month?"
The hand on top of his head lowers and grabs his chin.
Hua Chengzhu tilts his head gently upwards and pats his cheek. "Last month is the worst that could happen. We're past that now."
Jiang Cheng deflates at that news. He bites his lower lip as he squints his eyes to prevent his tears from falling.
"I... His Majesty is not with you, so I thought..."
Hua Chengzhu pulls back his hand, his silver vambraces glint when the sunlight of the afternoon sun hits it at the right angle. "Nothing to worry about, but one of us had to stay at this time, so gege couldn't come and meet you today."
Jiang Cheng harshly rubs his face, letting out a broken laugh before he says, "It's okay. As long as A-Ying is okay, everything is okay."
Hua Chengzhu pats his head again, but it is brief this time. "He is," Hua Chengzhu says, "and he misses you as well."
"He better!" Jiang Cheng sniffs, ignoring the bubbly warm feeling that worms its way in his chest, "I've been waiting for him for eight months!"
Hua Chengzhu snickers, the jingle of the bells on his person resonate with his every move, "It's better than waiting for eight hundred years."
Xichen waits for Shifu to finish writing before he leans forward and pours him tea.
"Did you visit him today?" was what Shifu first asks after he finishes his tea.
Lan Xichen nods as he pours Shifu another cup. "Wangji sends his greetings to Shifu."
Shifu nods to him after he finishes pouring his second cup. "How is he, Xichen?"
Xichen's smile becomes strained. He returns the teapot to its place and sits properly with his back squared. "Wangji is... Wangji. He is doing fine in his seclusion."
"It's been almost a year since."
A year since he found Wangji in Burial Mounds.
Xichen sighs at how time flies by so fast and yet not at all.
"Does he plan to leave anytime soon?"
Xichen manages to prevent his shoulders from shrugging.
A stately Lan disciple does not shrug.
"He didn't say." He answers.
Shifu grabs his beard and strokes it twice. "I've decided to open our gates for guest disciples this spring."
Lan Xichen leans back and looks up at Shifu in surprise.
"So soon?" Spring is less than two moons from now.
"I think it's about time. The Sect Heirs of most of the cultivation sects are of age."
Images of the Lanling Jin Sect Heir and Yunmeng Jiang Sect Heir flash through Xichen's mind.
He does not remember meeting either of them formally, although Xichen has heard quite a few stories about the two.
An image of Nie Huaisang flashes a beat later. Nie Huaisang failed his schooling two years ago. Nie Mingjue will make sure Nie Huaisang will attend this time again.
So that is already three of the five major cultivation clans Sect Heirs.
"Shifu wants me to ask Wangji to leave seclusion for it, right?" Xichen decides to cut around the bush. For Shifu to call him and talk about this matter, it is surely for this.
And as expected, Shifu nods to him again. "It is about time Wangji does."
Is it though?
When Xichen thinks of seclusion, his mind wanders to their estranged father who Xichen sees even sparingly than he ever saw muqin when growing up.
If Xichen does not know that his father looks like Wangji, he would not even remember how his father looks anymore.
Xichen has always asked himself, when would his father leave his seclusion and take over his responsibilities for once?
Xichen does not even care about his responsibility to him and Wangji. He just cares about his duty as the Sect Leader of Gusu Lan.
He has told himself repeatedly that it feels like it is about time father left seclusion.
But his father never did.
Now, Wangji is in seclusion, and it also feels like it is about time he left.
But will he ever will?
Xichen is starting to understand where Shifu is coming from whenever he tells them that the one thing he hates to happen to them is for them to end up like their father.
Jiang Cheng just finished changing to his sleeping robes when he hears a soft knock on his door.
He tenses as he turns around and stares at the door of his bedchamber.
The flickering of the light makes his shadow dance against the walls.
That knock is too heavy to be jiejie's and too calm to be to A-niang's, which only means one thing.
His father is knocking on his door for the first time since Jiang Cheng can remember.
He gulps as uneasiness slithers down his back.
What could his father want from him now?
Jiang Cheng could say that he is relatively doing better than he was as a kid when speaking to his parents.
Years under Wei Wuxian and his family's care has managed to put him in a state where he will never question his worth despite how his parents see him.
A-niang sees him as a sad mistake that must be made, his father sees him as a deplorable reason for his failed love.
So what if he was? He cannot change what happened before his birth.
And even if he wanted to change how his parents see him, they are far too lost in their own issues even to move past their head, so he does not even bother.
He has passed that.
It does not even bother him anymore.
(Truly, it does not. Not anymore.)
"A-Cheng," he snaps out of his head when he hears his father's voice call out outside his door, "are you still awake?"
Jiang Cheng swallows hard, and his heart starts beating faster against his chest. "Y-yes," he stutters. He inwardly groans and rolls his eyes upward. "Please wait."
"Okay," his father replies.
Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and takes a huge silent breath.
Once he thinks his heart is calm enough for a confrontation (and it will be a confrontation), he quietly walks towards the door and opens it.
He is met with the accustomed smiling face of his father.
(Still fake. It will never be real.)
Jiang Cheng breaks away from the eye contact first and makes way for his father, an offer for him to go inside his room. "Is there something wrong, father?" He asks as he walks back inside.
His father steps in and closes the door behind him.
Jiang Cheng offers his father to sit on his desk.
"Ah, no, thank you. I won't take too much of your time tonight."
Jiang Cheng feels so awkward with how formal their interaction is. He scratches the back of his head and chooses to continue standing as well.
"So..." He pauses, he does not know how to start a conversation he did not initiate.
His father must have noticed his awkwardness, not that he is trying to hide it, and finally starts talking again.
"I got a letter from the Gusu Lan clan."
Gusu Lan clan, huh. He has not been to Gusu yet, and he has not met any of the Lan Clan formally, but he has heard many stories from Nie Huaisang.
Apparently, before Nie Huaisang spent those three months here in Lotus Pier for sanctuary, he spent quite some time in Cloud Recesses more than a year before the incident in the Burial Mounds almost a year ago.
Jiang Cheng remembers thinking that all those nice things he said about Cloud Recesses are just for the sake of the friendship his brother has with the first master of the Lan Clan.
"...and they are finally opening their gates for guest disciples. It will be for a year."
Jiang Cheng snaps his head back to his father. What will be for a year?
"I'm sorry," Jiang Cheng apologizes beforehand. "What will be for a year?"
"The lecture of acting Sect Leader Lan Qiren for the junior disciples of this generation."
Jiang Cheng's heart skips a beat.
Nie Huiasang mentioned something about this.
Most of the time, Jiang Cheng hears his endless chatter with one ear and throws it away out his other ear.
This is one of those chatter that Jiang Cheng did not care to listen to.
"Are we participating?" Jiang Cheng asks hesitantly.
If they do, then he might miss the time when Wei Wuxian leaves Mount Tong'lu.
"I already sent a letter that we are."
Damn, so this is already said and done then.
"When is it again?" There might be a chance it will start after Wei Wuxian comes back.
"Two months from now," his father answers, his eyes turned towards the books scatters opened on Jiang Cheng's desk.
Ugh, for all the possible times he gets lazy to clean up, it will be the night when his father visits his bedchamber.
"Classes will start at the start of spring."
Jiang Cheng bites his tongue. At the start of spring, two months from now is around the time that His Majesty and Hua Chengzhu said that Wei Wuxian might be coming out of his seclusion.
There is a high chance that they might miss each other.
Where is Cloud Recesses again? Gusu? How far is Gusu? Would Wei Wuxian be able to visit him there?
Would he not see Wei Wuxian for another year?
No.
Jiang Cheng cannot allow that to happen.
"A-Cheng?"
Jiang Cheng jerks his head upward, "Yes?" he blurts out.
"Is everything alright?"
Jiang Cheng rubs his forehead with his fingers, his eyebrows meeting in a small frown. "Yes, my head just hurts from reading a lot."
His father hums, "Is that so."
Jiang Cheng rubs the back of his neck, "Is that all?"
Forget about that for a minute, Jiang Cheng is too tired to process everything in.
Plus, he still does not understand why his father had to tell him this news at this time of the night.
Based on the height of the moon, it is already midnight.
A piece of news like this could wait until the morning.
Jiang Cheng feels like he is missing something from this conversation.
"Ah," his father falters, "I guess I should let you rest."
Jiang Cheng nods. He straightens his back and starts to walk back to his door to see his father out when his father pulls out his hand from his back and places something on the table near him.
"I will leave this here before I forgot." His father says while smiling at him, "You do not have to see me out. Good night, A-Cheng."
Jiang Cheng dumbly stares at the thing his father placed on his table, murmuring back his father's good night.
He still continues staring at the thing way after his father closes the door after leaving his room.
Jiang Cheng takes a shaky step and another until he reaches the table with the thing his father left.
He stares at it for a long time, trying to assess if his mind has been playing tricks on him and if what he is seeing is actually real.
The thing is a small, square box with a ribbon wrapped neatly around it.
He looks back out his window and confirms the position of the moon.
If it is what Jiang Cheng thinks it is, then that means...
"Huh," Jiang Cheng says before he rubs his eyes with his wrist, "I'm finally fifteen."
Lan Wangji opens the door and meets the expectant face of xiongzhang.
"Wangji," Xiongzhang greets him with a smile, "Welcome back."
He steps out the door, the first time he did since his seclusion, and tries to return the smile of xiongzhang.
He does not know if he succeeds.
"En." He nods back.
Based on the way xiongzhang's smile grows more prominent, Lan Wangji could say that he did.
"Are you sure you want to take tonight's patrol?" Xiongzhang frets around him outside his quarters.
Lan Wangji nods.
It is his first day out of his seclusion, and Wangji does not want to retire for the day yet.
He has been cooped long enough inside.
"Well, if you're sure, then okay."
"I am," he says.
Xiongzhang sighs, "Do be lenient with the guest disciples if ever you catch them. They just arrived this morning, and they might still not be familiar with our rules."
He nods again.
He knows about the guest disciples.
It was one reason why xiongzhang asked him if he would consider going out of seclusion at this time.
"I will," Wangji promises.
Xiongzhang beams at him before he opens the door of his quarters. "Good night, Wangji."
"Good night," he returns as he watches xiongzhang go inside his room.
He waits until the door closes before he turns around, Bichen tight in his hold, and leaves the residence area to start his first patrol after his year-long seclusion.
Walking past the quiet corridors, with only the moon to keep him company, Lan Wangji remembers why he does not like doing patrols.
The night is quiet, as it was a year ago, and the silence stretches so far it makes him feel like he is submerged under a dense body of water.
Lan Wangji walks quietly towards the dormitory.
The area where the guest disciples are staying is quiet.
He thinks it is because the travel has worn out his peers.
They do not have the energy to stay up past curfew and cause any trouble.
He turns around and walks away, tracing his steps back to his quarters at the other end of the mountain.
The moon is already this high. It is about time for the disciple on duty after him to patrol for the next shift.
Lan Wangji is about to turn to the corner where the path that leads to the Lan Clan residences starts when he hears a soft thud of footfalls on the roof two buildings away from where he stands.
He turns around and extends his hearing.
He does not quite understand what is being said, but Lan Wangji is sure that he hears someone talking on the rooftops.
He frowns.
Just when he thought that they were too tired to make any mischief.
He manages to catch a rulebreaker on the first night of the yearlong study of guest disciples under Shifu, as expected.
Lan Wangji walks towards where he thinks he heard the hushed murmur.
He prepares himself to jump up the roof and catch the rule-breaker when he hears something else that makes him stagger on where he stands.
Laughter.
He hears laughter so soft, Lan Wangji would not even hear it if not for the blessed silence that has long plagued the nights of Cloud Recesses.
Lan Wangji knows that laughter.
He cannot remember when or where, but something in him tells him he has heard this laughter before.
He clutches the robe on top of his chest with his free hand, trying to calm his sudden rapidly beating heart.
Lan Wangji hisses, closing his eyes as sharp pain throbs behind his head.
He exhales, Bichen shaking in his unsteady hand.
The laughter stops, and the soft murmurs begin again.
Lan Wangji takes a step, and another, his knees wobbly from the pain and anxiety.
He knows that laughter.
He breathes.
Lan Wangji finds strength and jumps to the roof.
He sees a figure not far from where he stands with his back towards him.
The clouds part away, and out of it peeked the shinning bright moon that highlighted the person in front of him in a silvery glow.
Lan Wangji greedily stares at the figure of the young man, his eyes trailing him from the back of his head, his dark robes lined in red, down to his boots.
He moves his eyes back up and locks on the red ribbon that holds the hair of the young man high up in a distinct ponytail.
He knows that red ribbon.
He has seen that red ribbon before.
"You..." Lan Wangji involuntarily says.
The young man jolts, his back tensing before the source of the familiar laughter lets out a drawled a groan.
"Rouye, if I get killed, know that it was your fault..." he says under his breath, but Lan Wangji still hears him even from this distance.
Lan Wangji ignores how hearing this young man's voice up close sends tingles down his spine.
The young man in black robes, blacker than the night sky above their heads, turns around with his hands open upwards near his face.
He hears his breath hitch when he sees the young man's face.
As if it was a trigger, memories of that fated Night Hunt spill in his mind like water breaking out from a broken dam.
He knows this young man.
He saw him before, no, he heard him before.
It was the Yunmeng Jiang disciple accompanying the Yunmeng Jiang Sect Heir a year ago in Yiling.
Lan Wangji could not see his eyes. The Yunmeng Jiang disciple had his eyes closed and his mouth set off in a wide smile.
"Uh, hi," he says.
"So I have a funny story..." Lan Wangji's heart skips a beat when the Yunmeng Jiang disciple starts to open his eyes.
His hand on Bichen tightens.
He stills his head, squares his shoulder, and finds the courage to meet his eyes for the first time.
The Yunmeng Jiang disciple fully opens his eyes, and Lan Wangji has never seen eyes so bright like the moon before.
"...oh wow." The Yunmeng Jiang disciple gasps lowly.
Lan Wangji feels the heat from his reddening ears.
The Yunmeng Jiang disciple really has a good voice.
"You-" the Yunmeng Jiang disciple trails off when he steps forward and slips on a loose roof tile.
Lan Wangji does not think twice.
He lets go of Bichen and jumps from the roof, hands upturned in front of him and ready to catch the falling youth.
He feels the weight land safely in his arms.
He does not know how, but somehow, his hand manages to clasp the Yunmeng Jiang disciple's right hand in his as he pulls his body closer to him.
They fall slowly to the ground, his eyes never leaving the silver ones that slowly bewitch him with just one look.
Lan Wangji watches, and he turns a bit amused when a pretty shade of red creeps from the neck of the young man up to his cheeks.
He brings the young man closer.
He does not know whose heartbeat he is hearing.
He opens his mouth and is about to ask for the young man's name when suddenly, the young man pulls their clasp hands together in front to cover his red face.
The Yunmeng Jiang disciple shrieks, "Oh, my uncles, I really am A-die!" before he bursts into countless silver butterflies that shine as bright as his silver eyes under the moonlight.
Lan Wangji stares on his empty arms, dumbfounded at what just transpired in the last few minutes.
The silver butterflies around him scatter around him like clouds of dust.
A small one flutters by his eyesight.
He drops his arms and opens his right palm.
The small butterfly gently lands on his open palm, and Lan Wangji takes his time in marveling at its fragile beauty.
The small butterfly flaps its wings once, twice, before it flies away and joins its siblings flurrying in the wind.
Amidst the swarm of silver butterflies that shines on the quiet night of Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji breathes.
The world starts.
He starts.
And suddenly, something whispers to him that everything will be alright again.