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Chapter Text

Suppressing the restless spirits in Pingyang took longer than expected, and it is already past midday, yet Lan Wangji is still far from home. Luckily, there is a village ahead. He has no recollection of a village in this area, but that is only slightly odd. It isn’t as if he memorizes the location of every village he flies over.

It will be late when he reaches Cloud Recesses, and he is hungry, so he lands on the road outside the village. As he walks along the road, crows caw from the trees. One flutters down to perch on a fencepost. It watches him with black eyes, and he watches it back, strangely unsettled.

The village is small, a collection of houses and a few quiet shops. The people moving about stare openly. That isn’t terribly unusual—cultivators tend to draw attention. He has never enjoyed that attention, from people or crows, so he quickens his pace to reach the village’s teahouse.

The sign in front of the teahouse is almost too weathered to read. An elderly man sits on the porch. A pipa rests by his side. Unlike the rest of the villagers, this man shows little interest in him. Lan Wangji nods to him. The man nods back, then returns to staring at nothing.

Inside the teahouse, the tables are empty. There is no sign of a proprietor. Lan Wangji pauses in the doorway to survey the empty room. Even in such a small village, it is unusual to find the only teahouse vacant.

He is about to go back outside to question the old man when a woman comes out of the back room. She stumbles to a stop and gapes at him. Her shock is so apparent that for a moment, he worries that he misunderstood the sign and barged into someone’s home. But given the tables arranged around the room, that seems unlikely.

Lan Wangji bows to her. “Good afternoon. May I trouble you for a meal?”

The woman nearly topples over as she hurries to bow. “Of course, daozhang. Please, have a seat.”

As soon as Lan Wangji has given her his order, she disappears into the back. A young man arrives to serve him tea and nearly pours it in his lap because his eyes are locked on Bichen.

The young man’s interest in the sword is hardly unusual, so Lan Wangji ignores his staring and eats his meal as quickly as he can without feeling like a glutton. Then he lays silver on the table and departs, eager to leave this strange place behind.

In the street in front of the teahouse, he mounts his sword. Usually, he waits to do so until he is somewhere less conspicuous because it feels ostentatious to fly up from the middle of a village. But today, he finds he doesn’t have the patience to wait.

Once in the air, he orients himself and flies toward the mountains. The sun moves across the sky, pink and orange smudging the clouds. But no matter how far he flies, he doesn’t draw any closer to the mountain range.

Impossible. It must be his imagination. Perhaps he is wearier than he thought.

He drops lower to get his bearings. The same village lies before him.

His imagination is particularly active today, it seems. He has flown several li, so this cannot be the same village. It only looks like the one he left. Once he is closer, he will see the differences.

He lands outside the village as much to prove to himself that he is being ridiculous as to discover his whereabouts. However, his unease and confusion do not lessen as he walks into the village. The houses are too familiar, as are the people. The only difference is that this time, the villagers barely spare him a glance.

Despite this, he does not accept what his eyes are telling him until he reaches the teahouse: the very same teahouse with the very same weathered sign on the gate and the very same old man perched on the bench outside the door. The old man doesn’t seem surprised to see him again. He only nods and goes back to watching the clouds.

Very well then. Lan Wangji must have flown in a circle. That is unlikely but not impossible. It is embarrassing to have erred so badly, but he must accept that his navigation skills have failed him today. He will just have to make another attempt.

The next time he flies out, he soars lower to keep an eye on the terrain. Although he’s certain that his attention never strays, that he is entirely focused, he still cannot pinpoint the moment that the world shifted around him and deposited him right back in the same village.

There is the teahouse. There is the old man. The old man barely twitches an eyebrow this time.

This is ridiculous. Lan Wangji shakes the dust from his skirts and draws his sword for the third time.

“Good afternoon,” a voice calls.

Lan Wangji turns toward the voice. A man in black robes stands on the other side of the road. He is young, striking. When their eyes meet, the man inclines his head, then strides toward Lan Wangji, a sword in his hand and a black dizi hanging from his belt. Obviously a cultivator, though Lan Wangji can’t be certain which sect he comes from.

This will make what is already a humiliating situation even more awkward, but Lan Wangji sheathes his sword and salutes. “Good afternoon.”

The man quirks a smile and returns the salute. “That was your second attempt, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your second attempt to leave. Only you ended up right back here.”

Lan Wangji’s hand tenses on his sword hilt. Has this man been watching him? Laughing at his ineptitude? “What do you know of it?”

“It happened to me, too. It happened to everyone here, actually.”

Although that relieves a bit of his mortification, it suggests that something more sinister is occurring. But he is accustomed to sinister. This is only a new problem to be solved. He is good at solving problems. “What is the cause?”

The man shrugs. “Haven’t figured that out yet. You’re Gusu Lan, right?”

Lan Wangji nods.

“I’m Wei Ying, courtesy name Wuxian.”

Although he’s still suspicious, it would be rude not to return the introduction. “Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, the Second Jade himself. What are you doing out here alone?”

“Returning from a hunt. How many times have you tried to leave?”

“Lost count. I’ve been here trapped here for almost four months now.”

“Months?” Lan Wangji can’t keep the shock from his voice.

“Afraid so. And that isn’t the worst of it.”

Lan Wangji steadies himself. There is no point in worrying unnecessarily. “What is the worst?”

Wei Wuxian tilts his face up to the sky. “You’re going to find out soon. When the sun goes down.”

That is hardly a satisfactory answer, but Lan Wangji resists pressing for more information as Wei Wuxian leads him through the village. Demanding answers would likely only lead to more obfuscation. As they walk, Wei Wuxian calls out to the villagers, telling them it’s time to get indoors. The villagers follow his instructions, disappearing behind doors marked by paper talismans. The designs on these talismans are unfamiliar, and Lan Wangji would like to stop and inspect them, but his unease is growing, fed by the villagers’ haste and what is already the strangest afternoon of his life.

Their journey ends at a small temple, so dilapidated that Lan Wangji cannot determine the god worshipped there from the exterior. As they approach the door, a tall young man exits the temple carrying a bell. When he sees them, the tall man skids to a stop, his eyes wide.

“Wen Ning, this is Hanguang Jun. A new arrival.”

The tall man, Wen Ning, rushes a bow that sends the bell clanging.

“Wen Ning, can you handle the round-up tonight? I want to get Hanguang Jun settled.”

“Yes, Wei-gongzi.” Wen Ning scurries past them and heads back through the village, ringing the bell.

“The signal to get to shelter,” Wei Wuxian explains.

Lan Wangji nods. He had already deduced that. “What happens at night?”

Wei Wuxian pushes open the temple door and pauses, talismans flapping in this hair. “That’s when the monsters come.”

This man enjoys theatrics, Lan Wangji decides as he settles onto the cushion Wei Wuxian directed him to. Wei Wuxian joins him across the table and offers a jug of wine.

“No, thank you. Is there water?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and fetches water. He pours Lan Wangji a cup and then drinks wine directly from the jug, not seeming to care when it trickles down his chin.

Lan Wangji doesn’t bother to hide his disdain for Wei Wuxian’s lack of manners, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to care about that, either.

“Explain,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “I’m not trying to be mysterious. It’s just difficult to describe. Easier to experience it yourself.”

Lan Wangji considers this as he sips water. “Is that why you did not intervene earlier?”

“Exactly. Would you have believed me if I’d run up to you and told you that you couldn’t leave the village? Wouldn’t you have just tried to leave anyway?”

Lan Wangji nods, seeing the logic in this. He would not have believed a stranger, nor would he have simply accepted that his ability would fail him. His pride would not have let him rest until he had tried.

“I would’ve let you try a few more times if it weren’t so late. But you won’t have to wait for answers much longer.” Wei Wuxian points at the temple’s only window. It has been covered in lumber scraps, but the light leaking through is the dark gold of sunset.

Wen Ning returns, accompanied by a woman. Wei Wuxian introduces her as Wen Ning’s sister, Wen Qing. “We’re lucky to have her,” Wei Wuxian says. “She’s a brilliant doctor. And a ray of sunshine.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes, then disappears behind a door at the back of the temple. Wen Ning bars the main entrance, then follows his sister.

When they are alone again, Wei Wuxian leans forward, folding his arms on the table. “Okay, so I need to prepare you a bit. If the monsters come by tonight, and they probably will—they like new blood—then they’re going to try to lure you out. And they are really convincing. They’ll pretend to be someone you know, or they’ll cry like lost children, begging you to save them.”

“They can mimic human voices?”

“Not just voices.”

“They can change form?”

“Yep. Have you ever heard of anything like that?”

“No.” There are legends of demons who can change their form, but no demon so powerful has been encountered in a long time. And he’s never heard of a creature or curse that can trap people like this one. Both things would take considerable power, and it’s almost unthinkable that any creature could accomplish both things simultaneously.

“Neither had I before I stumbled upon this charming hamlet. I’ll admit that I was intrigued at first, but now I just want to get the hell out of here.”

“The talismans prevent them from entering?”

“Yep.”

“What do these creatures seek?” Lan Wangji asks, but before Wei Wuxian can answer, feet scuff on the stairs outside the temple. He and Wei Wuxian both turn toward the door.

“Here we go,” Wei Wuxian says as he pushes himself up. “Remember, whatever you hear, it’s a lie. Do not open the door.”

Lan Wangji nods. He is confident in his ability, and it is unlike him to cower behind talismans when there is a foe to defeat. However, he can sense the power from Wei Wuxian’s sword, and he suspects that the man’s arrogance is not unwarranted. Not entirely, at least. And creatures that can shapeshift and trap an entire village are likely to be formidable. Lan Wangji’s conclusion, then, is that if these monsters could be defeated in simple battle, a skilled cultivator such as Wei Wuxian would have already done so.

Lan Wangji draws his sword. Wei Wuxian leaves his sword by the table, but he takes the dizi from his belt and spins it lazily. Lan Wangji spares a glance at the dizi. If he is not mistaken, it is also a spiritual weapon, yet Wei Wuxian plays with it like a child with a toy.

Lan Wangji’s irritation at that is disrupted by scratching at the door. “Help,” a high, tremulous voice pleads. “Please, help me.”

Despite Wei Wuxian’s warning, Lan Wangji cannot resist stepping forward. The dizi taps against his arm. He turns to Wei Wuxian. The smirk Wei Ying has worn all afternoon is gone. “They lie,” he murmurs.

Lan Wangji forces himself to remain still as the creature continues to cry and scratch. Wei Wuxian was right: it is terribly convincing.

Finally, the scratching ceases. No sound comes from outside for several heartbeats. Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. His fingers curl tighter around the dizi. It is not over, then.

Footsteps tap up the stairs. Heavier this time. They stop outside the door.

“A-Zhan? A-Zhan, is it you?”

Bichen slips in his grasp, nearly crashing to the floor.

“A-Zhan, are you in there? Please, if you’re there, will you let me in? There are—there are creatures here. I can see them slipping through the shadows. Please, A-Zhan, I’m frightened.”

Lan Wangji tightens his grip on the sword and strides toward the window.

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian hisses. “It isn’t her, whoever you think she is.”

“I know,” Lan Wangji grunts. He knows that his mother isn’t standing outside the temple. His mother has been dead for more than twenty years. But he must see, regardless. If the creature out there is capable of looking like his mother, then he must see. He must see if the creature knows her face when even he can barely remember it.

He peers through the boards, but he can only see fragments: the white silk of her skirt, a graceful neck below her gathered hair.

The creature turns to the window. “A-Zhan, is that you?” It taps across the porch, and then the pale face looms in the window. It is smiling.

This is not his mother. His mother never smiled so, with the grin of a river dragon ready to swallow its prey.

But the creature is wearing her face. That much he can tell through the cracks in the barrier. There are the crinkles beside her eyes. And there is the mole on her cheek. He had forgotten about that mole. Even in his horror, he drinks in the sight, letting it maul him.

“There you are,” the creature croons. “I’ve missed you, A-Zhan. My beautiful boy. My little rabbit.”

“No,” Lan Wangji snarls. This is—this is vicious. How can any creature know his mother’s pet name for him? How can it steal her face, use her as a lure for its wickedness? This must not be allowed to stand. He draws his sword and heads toward the door.

“Don’t!” Wei Wuxian pushes past him to block the door. “This is what it wants. It wants you to rush out there to fight it. But you can’t. Not with that.” He nods to Bichen.

Lan Wangji clenches his sword. There are very few things that he cannot defeat with Bichen.

Wei Wuxian seems to read that thought because he shakes his head. “I know, but believe me, I’ve tried. And I’m pretty good. Very good, in fact. Maybe even as good as Hanguang Jun. I’ve stabbed them and chopped off their heads. I threw sword glares around until I was blind. They don’t give a shit.”

Lan Wangji huffs, but he lowers his sword.

As if sensing that its ploy wasn’t successful, the creature tries a new tactic. It screams in his mother’s voice, begging him to save her from the creatures that are tearing her apart. It forces him to listen to her suffer while he hides in the temple.

He sheathes his sword with trembling hands and folds to the floor, laying the sword across his knees. He closes his eyes and tries to center himself. The screams continue, clawing at him, and he is helpless to stop them.

The dizi begins to play.

Lan Wangji opens his eyes. Wei Wuxian stands in front of the door with the dizi at his lips. The music he plays is as strange as it is powerful. As he plays, the screams grow louder, but they no longer sound like a dying woman. Now they are animal howls, eerie wails.

Lan Wangji returns to the window. The creature outside no longer looks like his mother. Its body contorts; its head bulges and ripples. As it transforms, his mother’s smile stretches impossibly wide and bristles with fangs. Her white robes burn away, leaving limbs pale and twisted. The creature claws at its own chest, ripping long gashes that gush black ichor, destroying itself in its rage. With a final snarl toward the temple, the creature falls to the ground and slithers away.

Wei Wuxian lowers the dizi and stands in front of the door with his head bowed. In the distance, more creatures howl, like wolves denied a meal.

“The music—” Lan Wangji begins.

“It hurts them. Enough to drive them away. But that’s it.” Wei Wuxian trudges back to the table and drops onto the cushion. Blood drips from his nostrils. “It can’t destroy them. I’m not sure anything can.”

“It was—” He almost can’t bring himself to say it. If he is wrong, he will be offending the man who has offered him shelter. “It was demonic cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian sighs and takes a long drink of wine. He swipes at his mouth, smearing wine and blood. “It’s the only thing that works.”

“It is dangerous.”

“So are they.” Wei Wuxian scowls down at his wet sleeve and stands up. “Stay away from the windows. I don’t know if I can manage that again tonight. This demonic cultivation shit is dangerous, you know?” With a toss of his head, he disappears into the back room.

The night continues, ominously quiet, and Wei Wuxian stays hidden behind the door. Lan Wangji’s stomach begins to growl. Even after so many years of night hunting, he is still surprised when his body insists on its routine, no matter what horrors plague his mind. And it has been some time since his hasty meal at the teahouse.

Despite his hunger, he cannot bring himself to intrude on the others. Lan Wangji has never considered himself particularly socially adept, but it is obvious that Wei Wuxian wished to avoid him. Hardly surprising given how Lan Wangji reacted. Still, demonic cultivation. He has never seen it practiced. He has never even heard of it being practiced through music. The shock of it is almost enough to distract him from the creature stealing his mother’s face.

After some time, Wei Wuxian returns bearing two bowls of congee. He sets one down in front of Lan Wangji, then settles on his cushion to eat his own.

Lan Wangji thanks him and eagerly dips his spoon in the congee.

Wei Wuxian eats a few bites, then leaves his bowl to drink from the wine jug. “So,” he says, wiping his mouth, “I’m guessing you have questions.”

Lan Wangji swallows his mouthful of congee and lays down the spoon. Now does not seem an opportune time to insist on silence during a meal. “What do they want?”

Wei Wuxian grimaces and takes another drink. “I was afraid you’d ask that. Not a great topic for dinner conversation.”

It is as he feared, then. “They feed on humans?”

Wei Wuxian nods. “Body and soul, as far as I can tell. Thankfully, I haven’t had many corpses to analyze.”

“You said that everyone here was trapped as we were. Were the village’s original residents victims of these creatures?”

“I assume so, but I can’t be sure. None of us had ever been to this village before we got stuck here.”

“How many creatures are there?”

“The biggest group I’ve seen had at least ten, but I think there are more. Since they change their forms, there’s no way to know how many there are.”

“The talismans you use to keep them out—I’ve never seen those sigils.”

“Ah.” Wei Wuxian sets down the wine and flicks at his nose. It’s an odd gesture, almost bashful. “Yeah, those took some tinkering. They’re working pretty well so far, though.”

“You designed them?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and smiles ruefully. “Don’t worry. No demonic cultivation there. Just barrier wards and some protection symbols.”

Lan Wangji lowers his eyes, shamed for berating the man earlier, even if it was justified. He picks up a nearby scrap of talisman paper and studies it. Even incomplete, it’s obvious that the design is complex, drawing from multiple sources. Wei Wuxian must have studied well to replicate those symbols. He must be clever to have engineered a design capable of repelling these creatures.

“Which sect are you from?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian smiles like he knows Lan Wangji is impressed. “No sect. Not really. My shifu is Baoshan Sanren.”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, wondering if he’s joking. But Wei Wuxian ignores his stare. He goes back to his congee, scraping up the last drips and licking the spoon.

“Baoshan Sanren,” Lan Wangji says, hearing the disbelief in his voice but incapable of hiding it. “The Immortal Baoshan is your shifu?”

“The very same.” Wei Wuxian winks and lets his spoon clatter in the empty bowl.

And did the Immortal Baoshan neglect to teach you table manners? Lan Wangji wants to ask, but then he looks back down at the unfinished talisman and reconsiders. Unless this village is hiding a grand cultivation library, Wei Wuxian designed these talismans from memory. That is nothing to scoff at.

“You should eat up,” Wei Wuxian says, interrupting Lan Wangji’s contemplation of the talisman. “We don’t waste food here.”

Lan Wangji had not considered that problem yet. “Is food supply an issue?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “It’s not as bad as you might expect. We even have the little teahouse, as you know. There isn’t much farmland inside the radius, but we’ve got a few little rice fields and some vegetable patches. There are chickens and a couple of goats. We’ve got a few hunters to bring in game. The biggest problem is that we just don’t have the people to do the harvesting. Funny, isn’t it? You’d think that having fewer mouths to feed would be a good thing, but as it turns out, you need people to produce food.”

Lan Wangji hums, pondering that. He knows very little about agriculture and even less about organizing a community. “How many people are here?”

“Counting you, thirty-seven. Three of those are children.”

“Children?” Lan Wangji thinks of the creature Wei Wuxian drove away and represses a shudder.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says grimly, like he senses Lan Wangji’s horror. “Little A-Yuan is just three years old. The girls are older. Nine or ten.”

They talk a while longer, discussing the residents and the more commonplace issues facing an isolated community. As they talk, Lan Wangji dips the spoon into his bowl and is surprised to find that he’s finished the congee without being aware of it.

“I’ll take that back to the kitchen,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching over the table for the bowl. Bemused, Lan Wangji hands it to him and pours another cup of water. That, at least, is plentiful. During their conversation, he learned that some of the village’s wells are functional, and there are water sources nearby.

Wei Wuxian returns as Lan Wangji is finishing the water. “Do you have a bedroll?”

“Yes.” Lan Wangji reaches for his qiankun bag, grateful that he thought to pack it.

“Good. There’s room over there next to mine.” Wei Wuxian turns to point to the corner where a pallet is spread over the floor, which means that he misses Lan Wangji’s shock.

But what did he expect? A featherbed in a room of his own? The temple likely only has two rooms, and Wen Qing and Wen Ning are occupying the other room. It is only that he had not thought this far ahead.

Wei Wuxian settles back on the cushion and reaches for a basket near the table. He pulls out a stack of paper and a cinnabar stick. Lan Wangji thinks about that cinnabar stick to avoid thinking about the sleeping arrangements. It’s doubtful that the temple had a supply, so Wei Wuxian probably traveled with talisman materials. If he has been making talismans for four months, how much could he have left?

“I tend to stay up late,” Wei Wuxian says as he heats the cinnabar over a candle. “But you can turn in whenever you want.”

Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian draw a new talisman, then cuts his eyes around the room, hoping for another likely spot for his bedroll. But in the tiny room, the only other option is to crush himself against the entrance. Hardly wise.

Very well. He has slept beside disciples on night hunts. This is practically the same thing. Only he was just a boy in those days, as were the other disciples.

Wei Wuxian looks up from the talisman and grins. It is a boyish grin, playful and knowing. “Go ahead. You must be tired after all that flying around.”

Lan Wangji bites his cheek to stop the glower. “Should we not stand guard? I would not leave you to bear that responsibility alone.”

“Nah. They can’t get in. And it’s better if you’re asleep when they come by. Less temptation.”

Lan Wangji frowns, wanting to protest. If that is true, then shouldn’t they both be asleep? Doesn’t Wei Wuxian fear that the creatures will lure him out if there is no one to restrain him?

No, Lan Wangji realizes as he watches Wei Wuxian work. Of course he doesn’t. Wei Wuxian has survived here for months without Lan Wangji’s help.

“Very well.” Lan Wangji rises and goes to the corner where he dithers over what constitutes an appropriate amount of space between Wei Wuxian’s pallet and his own, trying to find a distance that is respectful but not offensive, a division that will allow them to sleep comfortably without intruding on the living space. It is only when he hears a muffled snort from the dining table that he surrenders and folds down to the bedroll, ears burning. He props Bichen against the wall and removes his boots, then slides under the blanket fully clothed.

It has been years since he’s slept with another person in the room, and that was his brother. Lan Wangji folds his hands on his chest and closes his eyes, but he cannot stop his ears from straining to hear the rasp of the cinnabar over paper, the soft tones Wei Wuxian hums as he works. Yet Lan Wangji’s body is used to its routine, and even his nerves can’t keep him awake after hai shi.

When he wakes, the sun is rising, striping the floor with thin light through the boarded window. Wei Wuxian is a dark shape under the blanket beside him. Wei Wuxian must have stepped over him in the night to crawl into his bedroll, but Lan Wangji hadn’t woken. That is almost more unbelievable than being trapped in a village by man-eating shapeshifters.

Lan Wangji blinks at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with the situation in which he’s found himself. Perhaps there is an empty house in the village, or at least an empty room that he might occupy. Surely Wei Wuxian would prefer to have the temple’s front room to himself again. Lan Wangji will have to find a diplomatic way to inquire about that.

However, he should focus his energy on finding a way to escape this cursed village rather than fixating on the awkward living arrangements. There must be a way out. Wei Wuxian may be capable—he may even be the disciple of the legendary Baoshan as he claims—but he has likely been occupied with protecting the other residents. That obligation can’t have left him with much time to plot an escape. So that will be Lan Wangji’s task. He will devote himself to learning all he can and freeing them from their prison.

So resolved, Lan Wangji eases out of the bedroll and pulls on his boots. The hump next to him does not twitch as he does so. How late did Wei Wuxian stay up? Or perhaps he is only a deep sleeper.

He puts his back to Wei Wuxian and folds his legs to begin his morning meditation. He will need to be centered to face this task.

Rustling begins in the backroom some time later. Lan Wangji unfolds from the floor and goes to the washstand. By the time he is combed and washed, cooking smells are wafting through the temple.

Wen Qing emerges first. She nods briskly and continues out of the temple. Her brother pauses in the front room and points behind him. “Hanguang Jun, there is congee.” Then he hurries after his sister.

Wei Wuxian continues to sleep. Lan Wangji steps through the door and finds a small kitchen and a bubbling pot. A sleeping pallet is rolled and stored beside a narrow bed. Before he investigates the pot, he passes through another door. The temple has a third room, which houses a bathtub and laundry supplies.

That is a welcome surprise. He goes back to the kitchen and dishes out congee, then returns to the front room to eat.

He has finished breakfast, washed the bowl in the kitchen, and is examining the new stack of talismans when Wei Wuxian groans. Lan Wangji sets down the talismans and waits.

Wei Wuxian sits up and peers at him from under a tangle of hair. “Morning.”

“Good morning.”

Lan Wangji averts his eyes as Wei Wuxian crawls out of the bedroll in only a red inner robe and pulls on the rest of his clothes. “There is congee.”

Wei Wuxian grunts and shuffles into the kitchen. He comes back with a bowl and eats half-sprawled on the table, his eyes shut, yet somehow, most of the congee makes it into his mouth. Lan Wangji sips water and watches this from the corner of his eye, mystified. How can a man so clever behave like an insolent child?

When watching becomes too irksome, Lan Wangji heads out of the temple. The village is awake, and he stands on the porch to observe his new neighbors’ comings and goings. This morning, the villagers nod to him as they pass by the temple. They do not stare as they did yesterday. It was not his sword that intrigued them, but merely the appearance of a new person into their strange community. Last night, Wei Wuxian told him that he is the first newcomer in more than a month.

Wei Wuxian joins him on the porch. His hair is tamed into a high ponytail, and his eyes are wide open. “Ah, there you are. Ready to take the tour?”

Lan Wangji nods, and they step into the road. As they walk through the village, Wei Wuxian points out which house belongs to whom. From his description, it is clear that many of the homes are quite crowded, and each one is occupied. It seems, then, that Lan Wangji’s hopes of a house to himself will be unfulfilled.

Along the way, they stop so that Wei Wuxian can introduce him to the people in the street and the ones manning the shops. These shops have been repurposed given that coin has little use here. Instead, the workers in the shops are there to gather and distribute supplies. Several people operate the shop that serves as a warehouse for crops, but there are also two women working in what must have been a clothing shop. Now the women work at washing and mending. However, their main job is to make paper for Wei Wuxian’s talismans.

“We’re still figuring out how to make ink,” Wei Wuxian says as they examine the paper the women have stretched out to dry. “Thankfully, I’ve still got some cinnabar. But if worst comes to worst, I guess I can always use blood.” He grins at Lan Wangji’s frown and turns away to praise the women’s work.

Next, they visit the workshop that makes and repairs tools for farming. Here he is introduced to a woman named Song Quan and her “second-in-command,” Feng Yan. “They keep the roofs over our heads,” Wei Wuxian says.

“A-Xian does his part,” Song Quan says as she pinches Wei Wuxian’s cheek. Wei Wuxian flushes and waves her off, then wanders away to inspect an axe.

Song Quan steps closer to Lan Wangji and studies him brazenly. She is so tall that they are nearly eye to eye. “I’m sorry that you ended up here, but I’m glad A-Xian has some help. We all depend on him. I hope that we can depend on you, too.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head and murmurs that he will do his best. This woman’s forceful presence would make even Shufu quail.

Thankfully, Wei Wuxian intervenes and hustles Lan Wangji back into the street and on to Wen Qing’s makeshift infirmary. They don’t tarry long there as Wen Qing is clearly displeased to have her work interrupted.

After the infirmary, they visit the school for the village’s three children. It is held in one of the larger houses, but the students are not in evidence.

“Hao-laoshi probably took them to pick herbs in the forest this morning,” Wei Wuxian says as they leave the empty house. “With this weather, she wouldn’t want to keep them cooped up inside.”

They pass a few more houses, and then Wei Wuxian pauses, flicking his nose. “Well, that’s pretty much everything since you’ve already seen the teahouse.”

“It is well organized,” Lan Wangji says, earnest in his praise. He isn’t overly familiar with typical village life, but he is surprised that a group of strangers has come together so industriously, especially given their fraught situation.

“Yeah, that’s mainly Wen Qing’s doing. She’s really in charge around here.”

“How long has she been here?”

Wei Wuxian spins his dizi as he considers the question. “I think her group got here about a month before I did.”

Lan Wangji looks from the twirling dizi to the talismans flapping on the doorways. “How did the people here survive before you arrived?”

“A lot of them didn’t,” Wei Wuxian says grimly. “At night, they hid in the woods or buried themselves in pits. But that never worked for long. Those monsters can be tricked, but they catch on fast. I think—” Wei Wuxian breaks off and shakes his head.

“What is it?”

“Later,” Wei Wuxian says, cutting his eyes at a man pushing a cart towards them. “For now, let’s go talk to our oldest resident.”

Lan Wangji expected Wei Wuxian to lead him to the old man who is back on the teahouse’s porch; instead, they walk to the far end of the village where a hut squats in the shadow of a gnarled oak. The talismans on the hut’s door are faded and ragged. Wei Wuxian replaces them with ones from his robe before he knocks on the door.

The woman who answers is not elderly, but her face is haggard, her eyes dull. She grimaces at Wei Wuxian and ignores Lan Wangji. “I was expecting Xiao-Chou.”

“I’m sure he’ll be along soon,” Wei Wuxian says. “Zhi Xia, this is Hanguang Jun. He just arrived yesterday.”

Zhi Xia grunts at Lan Wangji’s bow and leaves them in the doorway. Wei Wuxian shrugs at Lan Wangji and beckons him to follow. The hut is dark and reeks of wine and decay. They join Zhi Xia at her dining table, which holds only a jug of wine. More jugs, presumably empty, are scattered beside the table. As they sit, Zhi Xia lifts the jug and pours a generous cup of wine, which she drinks in greedy swallows. She does not offer any to them.

“Zhi Xia has been here since last autumn,” Wei Wuxian says. His voice is measured, his eyes gentle. “She arrived with her husband and son.”

The hut has only one room. One narrow bed. Lan Wangji inclines his head. “I am sorry for your loss.”

The woman stares down into her cup and doesn’t respond.

“Will you tell Hanguang Jun what you saw in the woods?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Why don’t you tell him? You know the story.” She huffs and drinks more wine, then drops the empty cup onto the table with a clatter. “What good’s it do anyway? If you could stop them, you’d have done it already. It’s just a matter of time. One of these days, they’ll figure out how to get past those talismans, and they’ll eat us all up.”

She pushes up from the table and wavers, shoving Wei Wuxian’s hands away when he rises to steady her. “Just leave me alone. My head hurts enough without you nagging at me.” She stumbles to the bed and drops on it, putting her back to them.

Wei Wuxian watches her for a moment, his face blank, then nods toward the door. Lan Wangji leads them out, eager to be away, but when they reach the door, Zhi Xia calls after them. “Tell Xiao-Chou to hurry up.”

“I will,” Wei Wuxian says. “Eat something today, okay?”

She grunts, which Lan Wangji takes as denial, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t argue.

They walk back into the fresh air and sunshine, and Wei Wuxian takes them to the teahouse, where he introduces Lan Wangji to the proprietor, Duan Yiran, and the young waiter, Xiao-Chou. Then he passes along Zhi Xia’s message. “And try to get her to eat something. She can’t live on wine alone, especially that poison you call wine.”

Xiao-Chou rolls his eyes. “I take her food every day. Most of the time, it’s rotting on the table the next day.”

“Yeah, I know.” Wei Wuxian tousles the boy’s hair, and then they argue about the quality of the wine that Xiao-Chou apparently makes in the teahouse’s kitchen.

Lan Wangji endures this briefly, then leaves them bickering to head back out to the street. He stands with his back to the teahouse, watching the villagers go about their work. How many of them have lost relatives here? How many nights have they cowered in their homes, listening to those creatures call to them in their loved ones’ voices? How have any of them endured without succumbing to their grief as Zhi Xia has?

Wei Wuxian trots up to him grinning, his red ribbon streaming behind him. “Sorry about that. That kid just refuses to listen to reason.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head rather than point out the obvious, which is that the wine they were discussing is both deleterious and a waste of time and resources. “I would like to explore the boundaries,” he says instead.

Wei Wuxian agrees, and they head down the street. As they pass back by Zhi Xia’s hut, Lan Wangji asks, “Are there more like her?”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says. “There have been, though. Before Wen Qing showed up to organize them, they lost people almost every night. As you can expect, the ones left behind didn’t manage well.”

Before you showed up to protect them, Lan Wangji thinks, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Most people like her don’t last long,” Wei Wuxian continues. “They just open their doors and let the monsters take them.” He takes the dizi from his belt and knocks it against his shoulder. “Every morning, I expect to hear that she’s gone, but somehow, she keeps hanging on.”

“Perhaps if the wine deliveries stopped—”

Wei Wuxian scoffs and taps Lan Wangji’s arm with the dizi. “Yeah, right. The wine is the only thing keeping her going. I know it isn’t pretty, but it’s keeping her alive.”

Lan Wangji keeps his eyes on the road and says nothing.

“You probably think it’s a waste of rice,” Wei Wuxian says. “But people need something. Once they’ve read every book in the village—and there aren’t many—and they’ve spent weeks trapped here with a bunch of strangers, not to mention the monsters showing up to eat them every night, well, they need any bit of relief they can get.”

Lan Wangji nods and doesn’t argue. He’s never tried wine, so he cannot speak to the relief it offers. And he’s too distressed at learning of the scarcity of books to devote his attention to the argument. Every time he thinks he has accepted his situation, some new issue arises to torment him.

“Here,” Wei Wuxian says, and stops in the road.

Lan Wangji surveys his surroundings and recognizes the fencepost the crow had perched on yesterday. There are no crows today. “This is the boundary?” He knows that he sounds skeptical, but he is sure that he landed farther down the road.

“More or less.” Wei Wuxian shades his eyes and stares down the road. “We could keep going, but before long, we’d wind up walking back into the village.”

“How is that possible?”

“No idea. When I first got here, I spent days trying to figure it out. But all I know is that when you take the road, you just march right back to where you started.”

Impossible. Lan Wangji walks forward, extending his senses for some sign of the magic confining them. But there is nothing. One moment, he is walking away from the village. The next, Wei Wuxian stands in the road ahead of him, the dizi tracing lazy arcs in the air.

He stops and looks behind him. The view has not changed. He stands there, helpless. Baffled. Like a koi circling a pond, eternally struggling to go nowhere.

“Messes with your head, doesn’t it?”

He turns to Wei Wuxian, who regards him calmly, almost pityingly. Wei Wuxian has endured this for months. Months. Lan Wangji wants to scream. He wants to batter down this cage and fly away without looking back.

“We should go to the woods,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Why?” His tone is a petulant child’s. He doesn’t want any of this. He wants to go home.

“Because it’s different out there.”

“How?” The sullen child is still there, but there is also a tiny spark of curiosity.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Are you going to hit me if I say it’s hard to explain?”

Maybe. Lan Wangji straightens his shoulders and shakes his head.

“Good, because it’s hard to explain. Come on.”

They head back to the village and then set out on a path that takes them past people working in fields. Wei Wuxian returns their greetings but doesn’t linger to make more introductions. That is a relief. Lan Wangji has met more people today than he typically meets in an entire season. Already, their names and faces are tangling in his mind.

What he would like is to return to the temple for some quiet time to think and soothe his nerves, but instead, he follows Wei Wuxian into the woods. Wei Wuxian is silent as they walk. After a few minutes of birdsong and pine, Lan Wangji’s irritation begins to ease. The forest lacks the beauty of his mountain home, but it is still pleasant to walk under the trees.

However, the serenity doesn’t last. First, his vision blurs. He blinks rapidly, and a few moments later, the blurriness clears. Although it is strange, he dismisses the brief impairment and continues on. But then a wave of dizziness washes over him, and he almost stumbles into Wei Wuxian.

“You feel it?” Wei Wuxian asks, nearly whispering.

“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks, even though he knows it’s futile.

“I don’t know.” Wei Wuxian sticks a talisman to a nearby tree and lays a hand on the trunk, leaning there as if he’s also affected. “We’ll go a little farther, but we need to keep this in sight.”

They move on, walking slowly. The vertigo persists, and once again, a haze drops over his eyes. After a few more steps, his legs quiver, and the sword’s weight drags his arm low.

“Stop,” Wei Wuxian grunts. “What do you feel?” His words are slurred—or perhaps it is Lan Wangji’s mind that stretches and contorts them. The birdsong slurs as well, warbling like warped instruments. Around him, the trees writhe and melt into the earth. The entire world ripples and shimmers like he’s looking at it from the bottom of a lake.

“Weakness,” Lan Wangji gasps. “The trees. They’re . . . wrong.”

“Yeah, I see them, too.” Wei Wuxian shuffles closer, his eyes fixed on Lan Wangji’s chest as if he fears to look elsewhere. “Next comes the mist.”

As they slouch there, a mist rises from the ground, coiling around their legs. It does not carry the earthy scent of the forest. It smells rotten. Sulfurous. It feels aware, somehow, and he grits his teeth as the fog envelops his boots.

“Have you seen enough?” Wei Wuxian asks. His voice is tight and flat, devoid of his usual boisterousness.

Lan Wangji nods. He came into the woods longing for an enemy to defeat, but he cannot fight a mist. Once again, he is powerless.

Although the tree bearing Wei Wuxian’s talisman is only a short distance away, it seems to take hours to reach it. As they trudge along, the mist draws back, and his vision improves, but the weakness does not dissipate until they are nearly back to the village. For a while, he was afraid that it never would, that the noxious mist had leached the strength from his body, corrupted his qi. But Wei Wuxian has encountered this mist before, and Wei Wuxian would not have led him there if such a thing were possible.

When they return to the temple, Wei Wuxian goes to the kitchen and brings back tea. Lan Wangji sips it, willing himself calm.

Wei Wuxian pours himself wine, and for some time, they sit in silence, drinking from their cups. Then Wei Wuxian says, “So, why are the woods different from the road?”

Lan Wangji is sure that Wei Wuxian already has a theory. He is behaving like a teacher, presenting a problem and waiting for Lan Wangji to puzzle it out. That is acceptable. Lan Wangji was a very good student. And it’s rather calming to treat their situation like a theoretical concept.

“There is something the creatures do not wish us to find,” Lan Wangji says. “Something inside the barrier.”

“That’s what I think, too. I think that they’re hiding themselves out there. We don’t know where they go during the day. Maybe they’re sleeping in the woods. Assuming that they sleep at all, of course.”

Lan Wangji nods. That is logical. “Perhaps they are confined here as well.”

“Could be,” Wei Wuxian says amiably. He’s obviously already considered that. Lan Wangji tells himself not to be disappointed. After all, Wei Wuxian has had months to ponder the problem.

“My theory,” Wei Wuxian continues, “is that they might be vulnerable during the day. Otherwise, why would they bother to hide?”

Of course. Why else would the creatures only attack at night? “Then they can be killed.”

“Oh, it’s better than that. If Zhi Xia is right, all we need is sunlight.”

“She saw this?”

“That’s what she says. We shouldn’t rely on that too much, though. It was the night her husband died. They tried hiding in the trees, but the monsters found them just before dawn. They got her husband, and one of them was still trying to climb the tree to reach her and her son when the sun came up. She said it burned up when the sun hit it.”

“Burned up?”

“Like dry kindling. Of course, we still need to find where they hide.” Wei Wuxian sighs and stretches his legs off the cushion. “I’ve been trying for months. I’ve been working on talismans to counteract that mist, but nothing’s worked so far.”

Lan Wangji sets down his tea. “Show me.”

The talismans Wei Wuxian made for the houses are clever, but the ones he’s created to guard against the mist are nothing short of genius. Though they haven’t succeeded at their purpose, they are unlike anything Lan Wangji has ever seen. Wei Wuxian has not only incorporated a number of ancient symbols, but he has also crafted new ones—entirely unique spells that would make any learned cultivator envious. And he has done it all in a matter of months, with no resources other than his own mind.

“I’ll admit,” Wei Wuxian says, flicking his nose as Lan Wangji examines the talismans, “some of them are gibberish. After a while, I just started throwing anything I could think of on them.”

“It is good work,” Lan Wangji says. That is a tragic understatement, but he has never been good at praise. If only his brother were here—Lan Xichen would know the words to tell Wei Wuxian how brilliant his designs are.

Wei Wuxian shrugs and picks up the wine. “Except that they don’t work. If you have any ideas, feel free.” He waves a hand over the basket that holds his supplies.

Lan Wangji ignores that for the moment. It is doubtful he can provide any improvements. Talismans were never his forte. “Earlier, you started to say something about the creatures. What was it?”

“I did?” Wei Wuxian flicks his nose, looking baffled.

“Yes. You said that the creatures could be tricked.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian slides off the cushion and crawls over to the wall. He leans against it and wraps his arms around his knees. “Yeah, that’s how the villagers used to survive. But the monsters figured out their hiding places after a while, so they kept having to find new ones.”

“Yes.” Lan Wangji works to keep the impatience from his voice. “You said as much this morning, but there was more.” Something you didn’t want to say in front of the villagers.

Wei Wuxian shrugs and pouts at his knees. “It’s just a theory.”

“What is the theory?”

Wei Wuxian is quiet while he swipes the dust from his knee, obviously hesitant to voice the theory. “Well,” he says finally, “what if they weren’t tricked after all?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that maybe they could have torn those people out of their hiding spots whenever they wanted, but they didn’t for some reason. Maybe they just didn’t want to take everyone all at once.”

Lan Wangji frowns, staring at Wei Wuxian, who is avoiding his eyes. “Why would they leave anyone behind?”

“I thought of it while I was helping in the fields one day. I’d never done much farming before I came here, so I was merrily plucking all the vegetables in sight. And then Hong Luo stopped me. He told me to leave some tomatoes on the vine. To harvest later.” Wei Wuxian raises his eyes to Lan Wangji, his face bleak. “If you’re greedy and strip the fields bare, you won’t have anything to eat later on.”

Lan Wangji takes this in with growing horror. But even as his stomach twists, he sees the logic. These clearly aren’t mindless beasts. They are intelligent enough to mimic humans. Not just mimic—the creature he saw last night knew him. It knew his mother. It called him “little rabbit.” There is only one other person walking the earth who knows about his mother’s name for him. So they are intelligent and powerful. Is it so surprising that they exercise restraint and forethought, curbing their hunger in order to maintain a food supply?

But we are the food. His mind quails at that, at humans treated like cattle, penned for future consumption.

“How?” Lan Wangji gasps, his chest tight. “How could this happen with no one knowing? How has this village not been discovered?”

Wei Wuxian uncurls and returns to the cushion, leaning over the table. “Let me ask you this first: where do you think we are? Not the name of the village—it doesn’t have one as far as I know. I mean, what region?”

“I am unsure. I left Pingyang, headed for Gusu. The last city I saw was in Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “When I found this place, I had just left Tanzhou.”

“What?” That makes no sense. Tanzhou is in the south, days from here.

But Wei Wuxian continues, counting on his fingers. “Wen Qing and her family were a few days from Qishan. Hao-laoshi is from Shudong. She was just taking a short trip to the next town to visit her sister. Xiao-Chou was in Lanling. He was on his way home from the market. The people here come from all over the country, yet somehow, we all came to this village.”

“That is impossible.” Lan Wangji turns away, breathing hard. There suddenly is no air in the temple.

“I know. But my guess is that this village—if we can even call it that—chooses who can find it. It picks people off, mostly people travelling alone like you and me. Sometimes, it takes a bigger bite, like Wen Qing’s family. But if it doesn’t want to be found, then you’ll never see it.”

“Years,” Lan Wangji mutters. “It has been this way for years.” He has seen the evidence—the weathered sign in front of the teahouse, this temple that lacks even a statue of its god, the houses that have been repaired, but just patch jobs, almost certainly done by the captives. There is no new construction. Nothing here has been built in the last decade, perhaps even the last century. Only the people are recent additions.

“The monsters here could have been feeding for decades for all we know. But one thing has changed recently.” Wei Wuxian lifts a handful of talismans and flutters the stack.

“You.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him, then shrugs. He lays down the talismans and plays with his cup, tilting it back and forth.

“You are preventing them from feeding,” Lan Wangji insists. From his first glance at Wei Wuxian, he’d thought the man arrogant, but he is strangely reticent to boast of his successes here.

“Not entirely. We still lose people.”

“How is that so? Have the talismans failed?”

“Not so far. But one group arrived late in the day, and we couldn’t convince them to stop trying to leave. A whole family—a boy no more than ten. They went down the road and never came back.” He shakes his head and sighs. “And there have been a few others, people who opened their doors.”

“They gave up?”

“Maybe, but I think it’s more than that. I don’t feel it, and you probably won’t either, but some people are more susceptible to the creatures. It’s like they go into a trance. They can’t be reasoned with.”

Lan Wangji bows his head, considering that. Perhaps blocking their ears would be effective. Or a talisman to muffle sound from outside.

“Wen Ning is one of them.”

Lan Wangji looks up, startled.

“I didn’t want to spring it on you last night. The first night is the hardest. We have to keep him tied down at night, or he’d run outside.”

“Do you know why?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “I think Wen Qing has a theory, but as you’ve probably noticed, she’s pretty tight-lipped. Even more so where her brother is concerned.”

“You do not have a theory?” The question is a bit impertinent, but Wei Wuxian only grins.

“Oh, I have several, each one more unlikely than the next.” Wei Wuxian stretches his arms wide, then stands up. “I’m hungry. Let’s go see what we’ve got in the back.”

Lan Wangji follows him into the kitchen. He is not interested in food at the moment, but it would be prudent to inspect their stores. As much as he may not wish to admit it, he may be trapped here for some time.

That afternoon, Wei Wuxian leaves him in the temple to “run some errands.” He offered to let Lan Wangji accompany him but just then, he needed time alone with his thoughts more than he needed to gather information.

Before the sun sets, Wei Wuxian returns and heads into the backroom. Lan Wangji waits and tries to ignore the hushed voices from the kitchen.

Night has fallen when Wei Wuxian comes to fetch him. In the kitchen, Wen Qing stands against the wall, arms crossed. She glares at Wei Wuxian as he leads Lan Wangji inside to where Wen Ning lies on the bed. His arms and legs are bound with rusted chains, and talismans cover his chest. He would seem to be asleep if he were not twitching, the chains rustling softly over his robes.

Seeing such a pleasant young man bound like this is disturbing, but there seems to be little choice. This afternoon, Lan Wangji learned that of course Wei Wuxian has already tried blocking Wen Ning’s ears with wax, and all of the talismans he’s made to insulate the temple from the creatures’ voices have failed.

“May I examine him?” Lan Wangji asks Wen Qing.

Wen Qing’s already strained expression hardens further, but Wei Wuxian says, “You should let him try. Hanguang Jun is bound to know a few things that the two of us don’t.”

She sighs and jerks her head in a nod.

Lan Wangji moves closer to the bound man, first inspecting Wei Wuxian’s talismans. Some are for protection, but others seem designed to keep him immobile. Despite this, Wen Ning shifts on the bed, tugging restlessly at the restraints.

Lan Wangji kneels beside the bed. Slowly, he reaches for Wen Ning’s hand and places his fingers over the pulse. It is a bit fast, but more shocking is the thread of power there—not strong, but Wen Ning has clearly worked to develop it. Lan Wangji looks over his shoulder at Wen Qing. “He is a cultivator?”

“Not anymore.”

Frowning at the vague response, Lan Wangji turns back to Wen Ning and focuses on that thread. It flows strangely, as if it is being disrupted. As an experiment, Lan Wangji sends a tendril of his own qi into Wen Ning’s meridian. He closes his eyes to follow its path, searching for the disruption.

Suddenly, Wen Ning surges up, straining against the chains.

“Stop!” Wen Qing shouts. Her hand clutches Lan Wangji’s shoulder, trying to tug him away.

He stands and moves back. “I apologize. I did not—”

“It wasn’t you,” Wei Wuxian says. “Listen.”

Lan Wangji closes his mouth and listens. Over the rattling chains, he hears whispers from outside the temple. The words are unintelligible, as if many voices are speaking at once. On and on they hiss, slithering against the walls.

Even without words or stolen voices, the whispers are distressing. Perhaps even more so. The constant noise could easily become maddening, his ears straining uselessly to parse the words.

“Can you understand anything they’re saying?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. He isn’t even sure that he’s hearing words rather than animal sounds. Or demonic ones.

The whispers crescendo to wails, joined by what sounds like dozens of fists pounding on the temple walls. The noise is immense. The walls tremble, dust raining from the rough boards.

Wen Ning’s eyes open. His pupils are gone, covered in a blank white. His mouth stretches wide, and he shrieks, his voice joining the howls outside. Wen Qing curls over him, calling his name, begging him to come back.

“Is it always like this?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. His eyes are wide, locked on Wen Ning, whose struggles have increased. “I’ve never seen it get this bad.” His hand curls around the dizi sticking out of his belt, but he does not pull it free. Using demonic cultivation obviously weakens him. Perhaps he is incapable of using it after that episode in the forest this morning. Or perhaps he fears what it will do to Wen Ning.

But Wei Wuxian is not the only one who can wield music. Lan Wangji calls his guqin to his hands and folds down in front of the stove. He begins to play Clarity, pushing as much power into the song as he can.

The creatures’ cries continue, but after a few minutes, Wen Ning’s struggles slow. The white film clears from his eyes. Then his eyes close, and he seems to sleep. Not peacefully—his arms still twitch, and his face is tense. Still, it is an improvement.

Lan Wangji plays until the world outside is quiet and Wen Ning’s brow smooths into true sleep. Then he finally dampens the strings on the last notes and exhales, releasing the stream of power.

“Good thinking,” Wei Wuxian says as Lan Wangji sends the guqin away and stands up. “I’ve heard about your sect’s musical cultivation, but that was really impressive.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head. “I am glad it could be of use.”

Wen Qing ignores them to fuss over her brother, so they return to the front room. Predictably, Wei Wuxian goes immediately to the wine. Lan Wangji picks up an apple that they’d left on the table that afternoon and eats it quickly. After that performance, his body needs sugar.

Before he’s finished the apple, the whispers return, but softer now, like secrets shared in dark corners. He goes to the window but sees nothing moving. Yet the sound continues, ebbing and flowing.

“I hate it when they do that,” Wei Wuxian grumbles from the table. “Sometimes it goes on for hours.”

Lan Wangji returns to the table and calls to his guqin. The song he plays has no purpose in cultivation, but it drowns out the voices outside. When he glances up, Wei Wuxian is smiling at him over his wine. Surprised, Lan Wangji stares back for a long moment before he drops his eyes to the guqin strings.

More songs follow, and when he finally puts the guqin away, the world outside is quiet.

Chapter Text

The next morning, feet rush up the stairs, followed by knocking on the temple door. Lan Wangji startles out of his meditation and reaches for his sword. A glance to the window confirms that the sun has risen, yet for a moment, he still hesitates.

“Wei-gongzi!” the visitor cries, and bangs the door again.

Wei Wuxian lurches off his pallet and stumbles to the door. He throws it open. Feng Yan nearly falls into his arms.

“What happened?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“It’s Song Quan,” Feng Yan gasps. “When I went out this morning, I saw their door was open. Just standing wide open. So I went over there and—” His face shivers, and he covers his eyes as if he can shroud what he found inside.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice calm, almost matter-of-fact. “Have a seat. Hanguang Jun, will you pour Feng-xiong some water?”

Lan Wangji serves the man a cup of water while Wei Wuxian dresses, and then he and Wei Wuxian leave Feng Yan in the temple.

Although it is early, the village is already awake. A small crowd has gathered in the street outside Song Quan’s house, huddled together and whispering. The crowd parts to let Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian pass. The door still stands open. Wei Wuxian’s talisman still hangs from the door.

The first corpse is just inside the doorway. Lan Wangji has seen many corpses in his life, but he has never seen anything like this. There is not enough left of the person to even tell if it was male or female. Were it not for the scraps of clothing clinging to the remains, he could not be sure that it was a person.

Wei Wuxian kneels beside the remains and lifts a lock of hair from the hollow skull. A scrap of green ribbon still twines through the matted hair. “A-Niang,” he says, his voice flat. “Song Quan’s daughter. You hadn’t met her yet.”

Lan Wangji swallows his revulsion and horror. “How many others lived here?”

“Two.” Wei Wuxian pushes to his feet. “Song Quan and another woman who lost her family here.” His hands clench into fists. “Fuck.”

The other two women are in the bedroom they all shared. Lan Wangji forces himself to examine the remains. It is as Wei Wuxian said: the creatures devour their prey utterly. They take even what crows would leave behind. There is hardly enough left to bury.

He waves away the flies that have gathered in the blood, closes his eyes and rests a hand over one of the bodies. Something of the creatures lingers there, sulfurous resentful energy like the mist in the forest, but it is faint.

While he examines them, Wei Wuxian hovers in the doorway tapping the dizi against his leg. When Lan Wangji rises, Wei Wuxian says, “We need to bury them.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head. He goes to the dining table and rests his guqin on the surface. Although he would like to leave this house—the smell is already thick enough to gag him—he will do what he can to ease their passing.

But he has only begun to play Rest when the dizi taps his shoulder. “Don’t bother,” Wei Wuxian says. “They aren’t coming back. They’re gone.”

Lan Wangji turns to him, frowning at the callousness. Then he sees how Wei Wuxian’s fingers clench the dizi. It is not a lack of emotion he hears in Wei Wuxian’s voice but too much. These were people Wei Wuxian knew—people he tried to protect.

“Then I will play for those left behind,” Lan Wangji says.

He begins to play and doesn't watch as Wei Wuxian sweeps out of the door.

The village’s workshop is also tasked with building coffins. When the coffins are delivered to the house, Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Wen Qing lay the remains inside. That task is one that will likely haunt Lan Wangji’s dreams for the rest of his life, but the other two work calmly and efficiently as they scrape what is left into the coffins.

The cemetery lies on the edge of the village, close to the woods. Crows circle overhead as Wen Ning helps them carry the coffins. The coffins are so light that they only need one man each. The graves are already dug. Memorial tablets have already been crafted.

Most of the villagers attend the funeral. The children are absent, as is Zhi Xia. There are no speeches and few tears. Death is no shock in this place. The graves far outnumber the living residents.

When the holes are filled and the joss paper burned, the mourners disperse quietly, headed back to their daily tasks. Wei Wuxian strides into the woods without a backwards glance.

Lan Wangji watches him go, then lingers in the cemetery, walking among the graves. The older memorials were roughly carved in chunks of wood—people doing what they could to honor the lost.

By the time he returns to the village, workers have already gathered to clean Song Quan’s house. As he walks past, a woman comes to the porch to empty a bucket. Water splashes into the dust, staining it red. He quickens his pace. At the moment, there is nothing he wants more than a bath to scrub away the stench of death.

Wen Ning comes back to the temple while Lan Wangji is attempting to wash the blood from his robe. “Hanguang Jun, would you like to come to the teahouse?”

The last thing he wants is to socialize with people in mourning, but he hasn’t eaten since the apple last night, so he nods and lays the robe over the rack by the tub.

Today, many of the tables in the teahouse are occupied. Wen Ning leads him to a table where a girl sits alone. Wen Ning introduces her as He Minhui. “She hunts with us sometimes,” he says. “And she’s the best fisherman in the village.”

He Minhui—a young woman of no more than fifteen—ignores the flattery. She shoves a dumpling in her mouth and smacks as she chews, her eyes fixed on Bichen at Lan Wangji’s side. “You’re a cultivator?” she mumbles through her mouthful of dumpling.

“Yes.”

She grunts and washes down the dumpling with a cup of water. At least, he hopes it is water and not Xiao-Chou’s wine.

When his meal is delivered, Lan Wangji devotes his attention to it. Thankfully, Wen Ning and He Minhui show little interest in conversation. However, that leaves his ears free to pick up the talk around the room. Not surprisingly, the main topic of conversation is the recent deaths.

One person suggests that Wei Wuxian’s talismans failed, but his companion dismisses that idea quickly. “They didn’t. Feng Yan said the door was wide open. Somebody in that house let them in.”

“In Song Quan’s house?” a third person interjects. “Not a chance. She’s been here for months. She wouldn’t let someone just open the door.”

“Yeah, well, that whispering was never as bad as it was last night,” the second man says. “And the pounding! I thought they were going to knock the house down!”

“I heard it was the daughter who opened the door,” someone adds from another table. “They must have gotten in her head.”

“They were hungry,” the first man says. “It’s been weeks since they got anybody. But now they’ll leave us alone for a while.”

Some agreeable murmurs follow that, but a woman shouts from the other side of the room. “Shut your mouth, you old fool! That’s Song Quan you’re talking about, not one of your damn goats!”

A few angry voices support the woman, and the table of men subsides, muttering over their meals.

Lan Wangji finishes the rest of his meal quickly and murmurs farewells to his companions. It feels strange to leave without paying, so he goes to the kitchen to thank Duan Yiran for her efforts.

When he comes out of the kitchen, a group of villagers is lying in wait. “Daozhang,” one of the men calls, “we hear you’re from Cloud Recesses. Can’t you fight these monsters?”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, not sure how he’s planning to respond, but before he can speak, a woman presses close. “Yeah, there are two of you now! Surely you can do something.”

He backs away from her and edges toward the door. “We will do our best.”

“Can’t you get us out of here?” another man wails. “I’ve got a wife and kids at home. They’re going to starve without me!”

“They’re better off,” another woman sneers from behind the wailing man. “She’s probably got a new husband now, one who doesn’t lay around sniveling all day.”

The wailing man whirls on the woman and jabs a finger in her face. “You’re one to talk! I’ve never seen you lift anything heavier than that wine jug.”

More people join in their argument, and Lan Wangji uses the distraction to flee the teahouse. On the porch, Wei Wuxian leans against the post, twirling the dizi. He cocks an eyebrow and grins. “How was lunch?”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth. “Adequate.”

Wei Wuxian and the old man on the bench chuckle. “Good to hear,” Wei Wuxian says. “How are you at tracking?”

“I am sufficient.”

“Great, let’s go.” Wei Wuxian salutes the old man. “Bai-qianbei.” The old man nods back to him.

Lan Wangji only hesitates for a moment before he follows Wei Wuxian into the street. “You wish to track the creatures?”

“I already did,” Wei Wuxian says as they head to Song Quan’s house. “But I lost the trail. I was hoping you’d have more luck.”

Lan Wangji nods. He should have thought of that earlier. That must have been where Wei Wuxian went after the funeral, though why he neglected to ask Lan Wangji to join him then is unclear.

The trail leading from Song Quan’s house to the woods is easy to follow. The creatures may have taken human form to gain entry to the house, but they obviously reverted to the monstrous shapes when they exited. The ground bears signs of their slithering movements, as well as the blood from their victims.

But when they come to the place where Wei Wuxian lost the trail, Lan Wangji is no more successful. In fact, he would have failed to follow them this far. Wei Wuxian is clearly more experienced at tracking. There seems to be little at which he isn’t proficient, with the exception of manners.

“Nothing?” Wei Wuxian asks as Lan Wangji examines the forest.

Lan Wangji raises Bichen and lets its light shine over the ground, but no more tracks appear. “No.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian sighs, “I figured as much. Still worth a try.”

They are in the woods west of the village, the side opposite of the one they explored yesterday. Here, the barrier extends farther, and they’ve walked a considerable distance without experiencing the miasma they encountered yesterday.

“How much farther to the barrier?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Not much farther. It starts just over that hill there.” Wei Wuxian uses his dizi to point out the direction. “No evil mist on this side, thankfully.”

They walk up the hill and stand at its peak, looking down on what appears to be a normal valley below. The forest extends before them, unreachable.

“If they do hide in the forest, then they must be close,” Lan Wangji says. “Perhaps they are underground.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “I’ve tried digging, but I’ve never found anything. I’ve never even seen any signs of burrowing. I figured, maybe a cave system, but I haven’t seen one of those either.”

Lan Wangji hesitates, searching for a diplomatic way to inquire about demonic cultivation. “Have you tried the dizi?”

Wei Wuxian grins sharply and spins the dizi. “I have. It hasn’t sent any of them shrieking from their hidey-holes.”

Lan Wangji hums and turns away from the valley. “We should return.”

Sighing, Wei Wuxian starts down the slope. “Yeah, the days are getting shorter. It’s really going to get rough this winter.”

Winter in this place—it is not something Lan Wangji has considered. Brief days and long nights will only be the beginning of their problems. They will need to stock food and firewood. Many of the buildings, including the temple, will need their roofs and walls patched to keep out the cold. Considering that he doesn’t even know where he is, he cannot even predict how severe the weather will be. They could find themselves buried in snow, their prison shrunk to the walls of their homes.

“I didn’t expect it to be Song Quan,” Wei Wuxian says, jarring Lan Wangji from his thoughts. “Last night, I thought they might get somebody, but I didn’t think it’d be her. She was a tough lady.”

At a glance, Wei Wuxian seems calm, even relaxed. He strolls through the forest, idly parting the foliage with the dizi. But further inspection reveals the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

“Her daughter,” Lan Wangji says. “Was she affected like Wen Ning?”

“Not like him. No one else reacts like he does. It must have been enough, though.” He smacks at a low-hanging tree branch with the dizi. “Why didn’t they stop her? Why didn’t they fucking sit on her?”

“Perhaps they were asleep,” Lan Wangji suggests as gently as he can.

Wei Wuxian huffs. “As if anybody could’ve slept through that.”

They walk on through the woods dappled with sunlight. The pleasant forest seems like an affront after his time in that grisly house. After something so monstrous, it seems like the entire world should bear the stains, like the blood drying on his boots. But as he well knows, life continues. The horror of the night must be left behind, buried like the dead, to make space for the living.

“So, tell me about musical cultivation,” Wei Wuxian says suddenly, his voice alarmingly loud in the peaceful forest. “I heard your sect has a way of speaking with the dead.”

“Inquiry,” Lan Wangji says, after a moment’s pause to drag his mind back to the present.

“You’ve done it?”

“Yes. It is useful to ascertain why a spirit lingers so that it may be suppressed.”

“Huh. So a murder victim could tell you who killed them?”

Lan Wangji hums an affirmative. That is one of the easier situations. Murder victims are usually quite eager to point out their assassins.

“Must be useful. But what if they lie?”

“They cannot. Not to me.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “Of course. They wouldn’t dare.”

Lan Wangji cuts his eyes toward Wei Wuxian. Obviously, that is not what he meant. “And your method? Did Baoshan Sanren teach you demonic cultivation?”

Wei Wuxian laughs brightly, not even slightly chastised. “No, not her style. I sort of picked it up when I was in the Burial Mounds.”

“The Burial Mounds?” Lan Wangji has never been there, but the legends say that no one can pass through its borders, not since the Wen clan erected the Wall of Incantations to seal off the spirits there long ago.

Wei Wuxian nods. “Not a great vacation spot. I don’t recommend it. Still, I learned a few tricks while I was there.” He gives the dizi a jaunty spin. “Good thing, too, or we might not have made it this long.”

“Why were you there?”

“I was hunting someone.”

“Did you find them?”

Wei Wuxian’s smile turns cold. “Not yet.” He shakes his head like he’s chasing away his anger. “Lucky for him, I got stuck here.” He throws his arms wide, gesturing at the village lying before them.

Yes, Lan Wangji thinks as they walk back to the temple. Whoever that man is, he is lucky indeed.

That afternoon, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian check the talismans around the village and replace those that are showing signs of wear. However, Lan Wangji suspects this task is intended more to reassure the frightened residents. He stands back as Wei Wuxian smiles and pats shoulders, his demeanor breezy and confident. “The talismans still work,” Wei Wuxian promises, again and again. “We just have to look out for each other.”

They stay in the streets until Wen Ning rings the nightly signal, then retreat inside the temple as the sun sets.

Tonight, Wei Wuxian ignores the wine. As night falls, he paces the cramped room spinning the dizi. But the world remains quiet. Perhaps the man at the teahouse was right, and the creatures are sated after their meal.

Lan Wangji finds he has no appetite either.

When Lan Wangji wakes the next morning, the pallet next to his is empty. Wei Wuxian slumps over the dining table, his head pillowed on his arms and talismans spread over the surface.

Lan Wangji dresses quietly and begins his morning meditation. Wei Wuxian does not wake until Wen Qing and Wen Ning come into the front room. Then he jerks up, blinking around the room like he’s never seen it before. Wen Qing and Wen Ning continue out of the temple as if they are not surprised to find him sleeping at the table.

After they are gone, Wei Wuxian groans and stretches, his spine cracking. “Quiet night, huh?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji goes to the kitchen and ladles two bowls of congee from the pot.

When he hands one to Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian smiles. “Breakfast served by Hanguang Jun. Never expected to experience that honor.”

Lan Wangji ignores this to eat his breakfast. Even with his eyes on his bowl, he can see how Wei Wuxian continues to smile at him.

“Are all Lans as quiet as you?”

Lan Wangji sets down his spoon. “Our principles forbid speaking during meals.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Seriously? Why?”

“As a courtesy to one’s dining companions. So they may be spared the sight of partially-chewed food.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes but swallows his congee before he speaks again. “You talked to me during dinner the other night.”

“I deemed it more important to learn about the situation.”

“Special circumstances, huh?”

Lan Wangji inclines his head. He waits to see if Wei Wuxian will speak again. When he does not, Lan Wangji returns to his breakfast.

After breakfast, Wei Wuxian says that they are needed to gather wood. Although he does not say why, it is obvious that the stores need replenishing because of the coffins they buried yesterday.

They retrieve axes and a cart from the workshop and head into the western forest with Wei Wuxian pushing the cart. “We have a donkey,” Wei Wuxian explains as they walk, “but she’s more of a hindrance than a help. Easier just to push it myself.”

When they reach their destination, Wei Wuxian hands Lan Wangji an axe. “Have you ever chopped wood, Hanguang Jun?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward. Hit the trees with that until they fall down.” He grabs a pair of gloves from the cart and passes them to Lan Wangji. “And wear these. Wouldn’t want those pretty hands getting splinters.”

Lan Wangji whirls away from his impudent grin and stalks toward the nearest tree. The axe is a crude weapon, but sinking it into the bark is surprisingly satisfying. Finally, something he can hit.

The tree he chose is large, and the cart is full of logs before he has loaded half the wood. In the distance, he hears Wei Wuxian’s axe at work. He heads in that direction and finds Wei Wuxian splitting logs on a tree stump. Lan Wangji watches silently, observing that Wei Wuxian is chopping the wood into smaller segments than he had.

“Tired already?” Wei Wuxian calls. His face is flushed from the work. He is not wearing gloves. Lan Wangji bristles at that until he considers that Wei Wuxian may have given him the only pair.

“The cart is full.”

“Ah.” Wei Wuxian wipes the back of his arm over his forehead and props the axe against the trunk. “Okay, let’s go.”

As they walk back to the cart, Wei Wuxian takes a flask from his robe, drinks from it as messily as usual, then offers it to Lan Wangji.

“No, thank you.”

“It’s only water,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning.

“I’m fine.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and puts the flask away. “Are there rules against sharing a flask, too?”

“That would be unnecessary.” He would not wish to drink from the same flask as his brother, much less a veritable stranger.

Wei Wuxian snorts a laugh. He doesn’t seem capable of taking offense. “How many rules does your sect have?”

“Three thousand.”

Wei Wuxian stops walking to stare at him, wet mouth gaping. “Three thousand?”

“Yes.” He lifts his chin, prepared to defend his sect, but Wei Wuxian seems too shocked for insolence.

“Do you have them all memorized?”

“Yes. All disciples must memorize them.”

“Or what?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happens to them if they don’t memorize all those rules?”

Lan Wangji frowns, confused. “They work until they do. Young disciples copy the principles as part of their lessons.”

Wei Wuxian continues to look perplexed. “But when do you have time to learn actual useful stuff if you’re spending all that time memorizing rules?”

Lan Wangji clenches his jaw and continues walking. “The rules are ‘useful.’”

Wei Wuxian trots after him. “Okay, sorry. It’s not like I’m doubting Hanguang Jun’s ability. I’m just saying: that’s a lot of rules.”

When they reach the cart, Wei Wuxian groans. “Hanguang Jun, that’s too much! It’ll be too heavy to push. Let’s take some of those logs off.”

Lan Wangji ignores him and grabs the handles. With a shove, he sets the cart rolling. Laughter follows him.

“Hey, do you know the way back?” Wei Wuxian calls.

Lan Wangji keeps going. Right now, he would rather push the cart in circles all day than admit to needing help.

Thankfully, he reaches the village without incident and unloads the wood in the lean-to beside the workshop. However, returning to Wei Wuxian is more difficult, and he trundles around the forest for a while before he hears Wei Wuxian’s axe and follows the sound. Wei Wuxian does not say anything about the delay, but his smirk is irritating enough.

When Wei Wuxian declares that they’ve gathered enough wood, they deliver the last load and go to the teahouse, which is once again empty except for the staff. Once Lan Wangji has given his order to Xiao-Chou, Wei Wuxian says, “You need something heartier than that, Hanguang Jun. After the work you just did, you need protein.”

“I do not eat meat.”

“Oh no, is that another rule?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji hisses.

Wei Wuxian holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m just surprised. How does Gusu Lan grow such strong cultivators if they only feed them vegetables? An ox couldn’t have pulled that cart loaded so high.”

Wei Wuxian eyes Lan Wangji’s arms like he’s evaluating the muscle under his robes, and Lan Wangji is torn between feeling smug and scandalized.

“Our diet is sufficient.”

“I’m sure it is,” Wei Wuxian agrees solemnly, but Lan Wangji suspects he is hiding a laugh.

After lunch, they take yesterday’s blood-stained robes to the laundry, where Wei Wuxian flirts shamelessly with the women who are both old enough to be his mother. Strangely, they seem to enjoy this, tittering and preening at his impertinence.

“Let me guess: there are rules against flirting,” Wei Wuxian says as they are walking to the temple.

“The rules forbid promiscuity. And disrespecting one’s elders.”

The dizi pokes Lan Wangji’s shoulder. He barely resists the urge to grab it and fling it on the nearest roof. “Okay, but that isn’t flirting.”

Lan Wangji does not grace this with a reply.

“Are you married, Hanguang Jun?”

Despite his fears of where this conversation may lead, Lan Wangji answers the question. “No. Are you?”

“Nope. I would’ve thought someone like you would be, though.”

“Someone like me?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and casts his eyes over Lan Wangji speculatively. “Yeah. Handsome. Renowned. Your older brother’s your sect leader, right?”

Lan Wangji nods, his ears burning.

“See? You’d be a great match. So why?”

“Why what?”

“Why hasn’t some lovely young maiden claimed you as her husband?”

In this, Wei Wuxian seems of a similar mind to Lan Wangji’s uncle, which is a baffling coincidence. Shufu would no doubt despise this young man. But even Shufu gave up on his efforts to arrange Lan Wangji’s marriage, due to Lan Wangji’s “stubbornness” and Lan Xichen’s skill as a mediator.

“You are also unmarried,” Lan Wangji says rather than reveal any of that.

“Well, yeah, but I’m not Hanguang Jun.”

“Perhaps you lack the skill to woo a lovely young maiden.”

Lan Wangji is horrified at himself the moment the words leave his lips, but Wei Wuxian throws back his head and laughs, the bright sound rolling down the street. When he recovers, Wei Wuxian taps the dizi against Lan Wangji’s chest. “You may be right, Hanguang Jun. Maybe I’m only good at charming the old aunties.”

Lan Wangji enters the temple in something of a daze. He has never made anyone laugh so exuberantly, not even his brother.

Despite Lan Wangji’s resolve to focus on escaping the village, he has little time to spend on that problem. The day after the woodcutting, he and Wei Wuxian are tasked with aiding the harvesters in bringing crops to the warehouse. Actually, the villagers seem interested in Lan Wangji’s help in particular—he cannot help overhearing several comments about the carts of wood he hauled yesterday. A few of those comments speculate on his physique in bald enough terms that his ears burn and Wei Wuxian snickers into his sleeve.

However embarrassing that speculation is, it is still preferable to enduring the more strident villagers’ interrogations about how he and Wei Wuxian will deal with the monsters. Although most of the villagers leave him be, there are a few who take every opportunity to crowd him, even when he is pushing a cart full of turnips. Perhaps because he has no way to escape. He could abandon the cart and fly away, but that might be a slight overreaction.

After he has delivered the last load to the warehouse, Lan Wangji heads back outside. Alone, thankfully. He pauses in the street to lift his head to the sky and check the position of the afternoon sun. Since arriving in this village, his awareness of time has heightened, and he can’t seem to stop himself from monitoring the sun’s progression across the sky. He has noticed other villagers doing the same. Or perhaps they are simply enjoying the sunshine, and he is the only one who fixates on how little freedom the light allows.

As he is brushing his dusty hands on his even dustier robes—he should really inquire about obtaining more robes; his two sets of travel robes are insufficient and rather ostentatious among the villagers—something collides with his leg.

He stiffens and reaches for his sword hilt, but there is no monster, nor has one of the anxious villagers lost patience and accosted him. Instead, there is a small boy clinging to his thigh and grinning up at him.

“Hello,” Lan Wangji says.

The boy grins wider and grips him tighter.

Children are pleasant enough in theory, but he has no idea how to manage them in practice. Lan Wangji looks around for the boy’s guardian, or for anyone who might help him navigate this situation, but the nearby villagers pay him no mind. Again, he thinks longingly of flight, but given the grip the child has on his leg, he would probably haul the child into the air as well.

“Ah, Hanguang Jun,” Wei Wuxian calls as he trots over. “I see you’ve met our king!”

The boy giggles and bounces on his toes, but does not release Lan Wangji’s leg.

“My king,” Wei Wuxian says solemnly as he drops into a formal salute.

The boy grins at Wei Wuxian, then cranes his head back up to Lan Wangji. “I’m the king!”

Lan Wangji inclines his head. “My king.” The boy giggles and hugs him tighter. He’s beginning to lose sensation below the knee.

“We also call him Wen Yuan,” Wei Wuxian explains. “A-Yuan, let go of Hanguang Jun. You’re gonna snap somebody’s leg off someday.”

A-Yuan props his chin on Lan Wangji’s thigh and pouts up at him. Lan Wangji blinks at that sad face. He could keep standing here. It isn’t such a bother.

But Wei Wuxian tugs on the boy’s hair. “C’mon, your excellency. If you’re good, I’ll take you flying tomorrow.”

A-Yuan’s pout transforms into glee, and he releases Lan Wangji to dance circles around Wei Wuxian. “Now, Wei-gege! Let’s fly now!”

“Tomorrow,” Wei Wuxian insists, planting his hands on his hips. “The sun’s going down soon. Now, where’s Nai-nai?”

“Here!” an elderly woman calls as she shuffles toward them. “Sorry, Wei-gongzi. He got away from me.”

“No problem,” Wei Wuxian says. He ruffles the boy’s hair, then guides him toward his grandmother. “A-Yuan was just getting acquainted with Hanguang Jun. Hanguang Jun, this is Wen Yasheng.”

The woman looks at Lan Wangji aghast. “Apologies, Hanguang Jun.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji murmurs, and bows to her. “Pleased to meet you.”

This seems to make the woman more uncomfortable. She returns his bow awkwardly, then starts tugging her grandson away. A-Yuan casts a lingering look toward Lan Wangji. “Bye, Handsome-gege!”

Wei Wuxian laughs at that for the entire journey back to the temple.

Days turn into a week, then two weeks. The daylight hours fly past, filled with mundane but essential tasks. It is rare that he and Wei Wuxian can devote time to their greatest concern: escape. The nights, however, stretch long. The creatures do not come every night, or at least, they do not always announce themselves if they do. Nonetheless, they are a constant presence after sunset, even when they do not whisper or scratch. Sometimes they do nothing but stand in the street, watching the houses with dark, hungry eyes.

No one else succumbs to the creatures’ pleas. Lan Wangji wonders if it is possible that the creatures will simply starve, but Wei Wuxian says that they once managed to go almost a month without losing anyone. If hunger can kill these creatures, it does so too slowly.

Although Lan Wangji cannot claim to be happy here, he is less discontent than he’d expected. Perhaps because he has so little time to fret about his circumstances. Perhaps because even if he shared this temple with Wei Wuxian for a hundred years, he doubts he could ever truly understand the man, though he has certainly given him thought.

Even aside from the demonic cultivation, which Wei Wuxian refuses to discuss by simply smiling and gliding past Lan Wangji’s questions, Wei Wuxian is such a mess of contradictions that he often seems like twelve people inhabiting the same body. And it is an attractive body. That aspect often occupies Lan Wangji’s mind in the mornings when he watches Wei Wuxian dozing through his breakfast, his red robe gaping over collarbones that seem too fragile for his frame. Many cultivators have exceptional physiques, but in Lan Wangji’s experience, none of rest move their hips like simply walking down the street is an elaborate dance. Or twirl dizis with long, elegant fingers.

And no one else Lan Wangji has ever met, cultivator or not, has such a smile. A variety of smiles, ranging from a soft curl that feels more intimate than sleeping side by side to a dazzling sunbeam that Lan Wangji cannot look at directly for more than a heartbeat.

However, what lies beneath Wei Wuxian’s admirable form and bright smiles is what truly troubles Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian is possibly the most brilliant man he has ever met, yet he also wields demonic cultivation like it is just another tool. Still, it is difficult to fault him for his methods when he has been more successful at protecting the village than Lan Wangji could have been.

The scholars teach that demonic cultivation darkens the practitioner, yet Wei Wuxian remains kind and cheerful. In the first few days, Lan Wangji watched him carefully, looking for signs of pretense, but as far as he can tell, Wei Wuxian’s affability toward the villagers is sincere. He not only protects the village; he also cares for its people. He charms the aunties and teases the young women until they giggle. He nods his head during the older men’s lectures and claps the younger men’s shoulders. He boosts A-Yuan onto his sword and zooms him around the rooftops. In public, he calls Lan Wangji Hanguang Jun and behaves almost courteously. In private, he pokes Lan Wangji with the dizi and teases him until Lan Wangji’s jaw creaks.

Not all of Wei Wuxian’s breezy charm is sincere, however. As far as Lan Wangji can tell, the man rarely sleeps. Often, Lan Wangji wakes to find Wei Wuxian slumped at the table, surrounded by half-finished sketches and reeking of wine. During the day, Wei Wuxian smiles and struts, but at night, the shadows in the temple darken the bruises under his eyes and trace weariness across his tight jaw.

If Lan Wangji possessed even a tenth of Wei Wuxian’s directness—or bravery—he might remark on Wei Wuxian’s habits. If he had any of his brother’s tact, he might know how to offer help. As it is, he can only watch. And worry.

Chapter Text

During the third week of Lan Wangji’s occupancy, work halts at midday for a meeting in the teahouse. From what Lan Wangji gathers, these meetings are typically run by Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian, but somehow, he also ends up standing with them on the small dais.

With nearly all of the villagers present, even A-Yuan bouncing on Wen Ning’s knee, the teahouse rustles with chatter. However, the voices quiet when Wen Qing steps to the center of the dais. “Autumn will arrive soon,” she says, her voice brisk and her words blunt. “We will start concentrating on repairing the houses. Feng Yan will announce the new work assignments.”

She inclines her head to Feng Yan, who’s sitting near the dais, and steps back.

“We should be working on getting out of here!” one of Lan Wangji’s least-favorite villagers wails.

Beside Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian sighs and mutters, “Every time.”

Lan Wangji cuts his eyes at Wei Wuxian. For once, the dizi is tucked into his belt, and Wei Wuxian stands tall, his hands clasped behind his back, his face solemn.

“Quiet down!” a woman shouts. “Unless you’re offering to go fight those monsters yourself?”

Laughter follows, and the wailing man subsides with a glower.

As the chuckles fade away, Feng Yan climbs to the dais and announces the new work detail. A short discussion follows, and Feng Yan—with Wen Qing’s approval—amends the list based on the villagers’ suggestions.

When everyone is satisfied, or at least disinclined to protest, Feng Yan returns to his seat. Then Wei Wuxian strides to the front and gives what appears to be a standard speech about the importance of maintaining the talismans. As he talks, Lan Wangji watches the villagers. In the streets and the fields, the villagers tend to regard Wei Wuxian with familiarity, often tinged with amusement. But there is something different about Wei Wuxian tonight. Instead of his usual flippancy, he speaks in a clear, commanding voice. No smile lingers on his lips as he advises the villagers to be watchful. “Do not wait until the talismans blow away,” he warns. “At the first sign of wear, come to me or to Hanguang Jun.”

When the audience’s eyes flick back to Lan Wangji, he inclines his head, silently affirming the statement.

With that, the speech ends. Wei Wuxian’s shoulders drop, and his lips curl into a grin. “Well, I think that’s it for today. Let’s have some fun!” He hops off the dais and makes for the nearest wine jug.

Wen Qing follows and is soon swallowed by a group of petitioners. The voices rise again as the villagers turn to their friends and lift their cups. Lan Wangji takes a deep breath and leaves the dais.

Even in his new (to him) robes, he stands out amongst the villagers, being a head taller than everyone except Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning. However, today he attracts no attention as he winds through the crowd to Wen Ning and He Minhui’s table. When he takes his seat, Wen Ning gives him an encouraging smile. He Minhui ignores him.

Eventually, Xiao-Chou slams a water pitcher and cup in front of Lan Wangji, blurts something at He Minhui that Lan Wangji cannot understand over the roaring crowd, but that He Minhui acknowledges with only an eyeroll, then dashes off, laughing.

Lan Wangji sips the water, stares at the table, and tries to ignore how the sound rolls around him, almost as maddening as the creatures’ howls. He could simply leave. No one seems to require his presence anymore.

But before he has finished the water, the chatter abates. In the sudden hush, Lan Wangji looks up and sees that the villagers have once again turned toward the back of the room. The old man who spends his days on the teahouse porch, Bai Juyi, is climbing onto the dais. He is carrying the pipa that always sits by his side.

Bai Juyi waits as Xiao-Chou scurries up to place a stool behind him. Then Bai Juyi settles onto the stool and steadies the pipa on his lap. When the first notes ring out, the last murmurs cease.

The pipa isn’t usually incorporated into Lan Wangji’s sect’s musical cultivation, but he has often enjoyed listening to performers in teahouses like this one. And Bai Juyi is among the most accomplished he has heard. The villagers seem to agree. Usually, he has to strain to hear the music over the other customers, but this crowd gives the performer the respect he deserves. Perhaps they cherish the music more due to their dire circumstances.

As the song continues, Lan Wangji sets aside his unease to focus on the music. It is a song he’s heard, but not commonly played in bustling teahouses due to its solemnity. Bai Juyi layers the notes with echoes of yearning that elevate the song until it tugs at Lan Wangji’s chest. The pipa sings of friends lost and homes out of reach, of shadows that lurk too near and light that fades too quickly.

There is much skill to appreciate, but beyond that, Bai Juyi conquers emotion and sends it through the strings with a power that Lan Wangji both envies and fears. This, he knows, he could never do. He could never lay himself bare through his guqin, nor capture a communal feeling so eloquently.

When the song ends, there is polite applause, but the solemn quiet that follows is perhaps the stronger compliment. With one song, Bai Juyi has given his audience space to reflect and to mourn.

Bai Juyi waits for a few minutes, gazing serenely over the silent crowd, before he plays again. This song is more cheerful, a folk song that could seem coarse after the first, but somehow feels like a breath exhaled in relief. When this song ends, the applause is heartier, accompanied by cheers.

During the third song, Xiao-Chou drops a tray of dishes in the center of the table. Among the dishes is Lan Wangji’s usual order. Something warm blooms in his stomach at being known in such a small but considerate way.

After the third song, Bai Juyi climbs off the dais to fervent applause. As Lan Wangji eats, more performers take the stage, but none of them have Bai Juyi’s ability. Still, their efforts at music and poetry recitation are lauded with applause, and in the case of the more scandalous works, raucous cheers.

Xiao-Chou has just finished reciting such a poem—clearly inebriated and giggling through the lines—when Wei Wuxian drops into a chair beside Lan Wangji. He’s holding a wine jug, and most likely drinking from it directly given the flush on his cheeks.

“How are you enjoying your first meeting, Hanguang Jun?”

Wei Wuxian drinks often, but he rarely seems affected. Today, however, his eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused. “It is enjoyable,” Lan Wangji says. “Have you eaten?”

Wei Wuxian waves a hand through the air. “Not yet. What did you think of old Bai? Pretty good, isn’t he?”

“He is quite skilled.”

“Yeah, but you’re better. You should get up there!”

“Perhaps another time.” Performing before crowds is not something he relishes. Better ghouls than a roomful of drunk villagers. “Will you perform?”

Wei Wuxian laughs uneasily and takes a long drink—from the jug, as Lan Wangji suspected. “Nah, not today.” His eyes skitter across the table as his fingers toy with the dizi’s red tassel.

“Wei-gongzi usually recites poetry,” Wen Ning says from Lan Wangji’s other side.

“Indeed?” Lan Wangji says, lifting an eyebrow at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and drinks more wine.

“Yes,” Wen Ning says. “He’s very good.”

“Ugh,” He Minhui groans, slouching over the table and propping her chin in her hand. “Not more poetry.”

Wei Wuxian swings the wine jug in her direction and nearly bonks her in the head. “Grumpy child! Let’s see you get up there and do something, then.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a drink of what Lan Wangji is certain is wine this time. Then she drops the cup to the table and licks her lips. “Come hunting with me tomorrow. You haven’t gone with me in ages.”

“Because you’re so grumpy,” Wei Wuxian mutters. Then he shrugs. “Yeah, I can do that, I guess.” He turns to Lan Wangji, the wine jug once again swinging precariously. “You wanna come with us?”

Lan Wangji shifts to the side before wine can drip on his lap. “What do you hunt?”

“Whatever we can find,” He Minhui says. “Squirrels, rabbits, pheasant. Deer if we’re lucky.”

Lan Wangji has no skill nor interest in hunting, but at the mention of rabbits, his fists clench. “No, thank you.”

“Hanguang Jun, I have a bow you can borrow,” Wen Ning says.

“Or we could go fishing, instead,” Wei Wuxian offers.

“No, thank you,” Lan Wangji repeats. “I am not proficient in either.”

He Minhui snorts and tips more wine into her cup. Her aim does not speak to her supposed proficiency at hunting.

“Aiyah!” Wei Wuxian shouts and snags the jug from her hand. “Who gave you wine?”

“I’m not a kid,” she mutters, and gulps the wine that made it into her cup before Wei Wuxian can take it from her.

As Lan Wangji watches them squabble over the jug, he scolds himself for not noticing her illicit drinking and taking action. He may be a newcomer here, but he must not shirk his responsibility.

“No, but you’re a grumpy drunk,” Wei Wuxian argues. “What good does it do you if you don’t get any happier? It’s a waste of wine.”

Or perhaps Lan Wangji misjudged the situation. He Minhui sticks out her tongue at Wei Wuxian, and he returns the childish gesture. Perhaps Lan Wangji should take the wine away from both of them.

Or perhaps he should just leave. Another performer is stumbling through a folktale, but he has noticed some people leaving already. Surely it wouldn’t be too rude to leave himself. But as he’s gathering himself to rise, A-Yuan runs to his side. “Handsome-gege!” he cries, and before Lan Wangji has time to do more than blink, the boy is scrambling into his lap.

Wei Wuxian chuckles and salutes them with his wine. “Our king sits where he wants to sit, Handsome-gege.”

Lan Wangji glares at him, but then he has to focus on keeping the child from toppling off his lap or jabbing him with surprisingly sharp knees. When A-Yuan is finally settled, Lan Wangji inclines his head. “My king.”

A-Yuan beams up at him and grips his lapel with sticky fingers.

“I see you’ve met my little cousin,” Wen Ning says, smiling at them.

“Mn, we are acquainted.” Lan Wangji offers the boy a dumpling from his plate, and A-Yuan nibbles it between streams of babble that Lan Wangji barely follows.

While A-Yuan is occupied with the dumpling, Lan Wangji slides the plate toward Wei Wuxian and raises his eyebrows.

The smile Wei Wuxian sends him is unusually warm. Then Wei Wuxian picks up a dumpling and eats it with his usual lack of grace.

Wei Wuxian does go hunting with He Minhui and Wen Ning the next morning, scowling and squinting at the daylight. However, Lan Wangji spends the morning chopping wood, then transferring planks from the workshop to the first construction site. When his deliveries outstrip the workshop’s pace, he lingers to watch the workers bolster a sagging wall and gets tasked with aiding them.

As with most of the tasks he’s learned since his arrival, construction is deceptively simple yet taxing. Lifting the boards and carrying them to the workers isn’t difficult, but he must be watchful that he doesn’t smack anyone in the head while he navigates the yard.

When he retires to the temple that evening, his hands are scraped and splintered. It had occurred to him to find gloves, but since the other men were working without them, he had pushed on. He regrets that when Wei Wuxian notices him digging splinters from his palms and scolds him. He spends an incredibly uncomfortable hour sitting with Wei Wuxian bent over his hand, muttering as he gently teases out more splinters with a needle borrowed from Wen Qing. They are sitting so close that Wei Wuxian’s untidy hair flutters with Lan Wangji’s breath. This close, it is impossible to refrain from inhaling his scent, a pleasant tang sharpened by his day in the forest. It is impossible to ignore their knees pressed together or his hand cradled in Wei Wuxian’s long fingers. The only thing he fails to notice is the prick of the needle as it repeatedly pokes his hands.

Until tonight, Wei Wuxian has never touched him aside from the constant prodding with the dizi. Is Wei Wuxian aware of that, or would he even care if he were? He certainly seems unconcerned with their proximity right now.

Once he’s removed the last splinter, Wei Wuxian points the needle at Lan Wangji’s nose. “Wear gloves next time,” he commands. Then he lays a hand on Lan Wangji’s knee to lever himself up and stomps into the backroom.

After he leaves, Lan Wangji sighs out the first deep breath he’s taken in ages and resolves to avoid splinters in the future. He does not have the strength to endure that again.

As the days shorten, the construction pace quickens. With the nights growing longer and colder, their need grows more evident. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian now spend the majority of their days helping the builders. Lan Wangji always wears gloves, even if he is the only one to do so.

Today, their work is a race to accomplish as much as possible before the storm threatening in the west can reach them. The first raindrops spatter on his robes as Lan Wangji trundles the empty cart to the workshop to retrieve more wood.

“Might as well leave the cart here,” the supervisor says when Lan Wangji enters the workshop. “It’s going to be a hell of a storm.”

A deep roll of thunder punctuates this. Both Lan Wangji and the supervisor turn to the open door and watch as a bolt of lightning turns the gray sky to brilliant white.

Lan Wangji does as the supervisor suggested. As he’s walking back to the house where the crew is working, the sky opens. For a few moments, he sees nothing but the curtain of rain, hears nothing but the howl of wind. It is as if the world has overturned and submerged him in deep, churning water. The umbrella in his qiankun bag would be useless in such a deluge. For a moment, he simply stands in the street, considering if he should just return to the workshop until the storm abates.

Then a shout pierces the bluster of rain, followed by a boom of thunder that shakes even the ground beneath him. More shouts follow.

Lan Wangji starts moving. He cannot see even the ground beneath his feet, but he heads toward the shouts as quickly as he can, his feet sliding in the slick mud.

Another flash of lightning burns the sky and reveals the house they have been reconstructing. In that flash, it looked as if the house were melting into the ground. A dark shape hovered above the sagging roof.

Lan Wangji leaps ahead, heart pounding. Unless his eyes deceived him, the dark shape was Wei Wuxian, who for some reason, has mounted his sword in the pounding storm.

The leap takes him to the street before the house, and he slides to a stop, barely keeping his balance in the mud. As he runs closer, he cranes his neck to find that dark shape again, but the sky is a gray blur.

“Hanguang Jun!” Wen Ning calls. “Si-shu is trapped in the house!”

Wen Ning and some of the other men are bracing the wall they were reconstructing. The scaffolding cracked in the storm, and the roof is crumbling into the pit that was a house. Others work on digging out debris.

Lan Wangji moves to help the diggers, but Feng Yan holds out a hand. “Get that post! We have to shore it up!”

Lan Wangji nods and goes to retrieve the post he delivered earlier. It was too big to fit in the cart, so he and Wen Ning carried it here on their shoulders.

The post lies where he left it in the muddy yard. The hewn wood is slick in the rain, but Lan Wangji heaves it onto his shoulder and starts back to the house. As he struggles with the heavy post in the sucking mud, he searches for Wei Wuxian, but all he can see is the glint of Suibian under his feet as the wind whips him through the sky.

When he reaches the broken wall, men hurry to help him wedge the post under the sagging roof. Through the jagged tear in the roof, he sees Wei Wuxian gripping a shining blue cord. The cord stretches down and wraps around the old support post, which has tumbled into the house. The post leans precariously on a section of crumbled wall. Wen Ning’s uncle, Wen Bingyun, lies trapped beneath debris beneath it. The only thing preventing the post from crashing down on top of him is Wei Wuxian’s cord.

Lan Wangji starts for the post, but Feng Yan once again holds him back. “Not yet,” Feng Yan warns, shouting to be heard over the wind. “If we aren’t careful, the whole house will fall on him.”

Lan Wangji changes course for the piece of rubble Feng Yan points out, but he can’t help casting glances up to Wei Wuxian. It is a miracle that he hasn’t been blown off the sword.

As they work on removing the debris, the storm eases until the thunder dims to a sulky rumble. Wen Bingyun is unconscious when they finally dig him out, but he groans as Wen Ning carries him outside.

With Wen Bingyun out of danger, it is time to move the post. Lan Wangji grips the center of the post below the cord. He looks up through the gap.

“Ready?” Wei Wuxian calls.

Lan Wangji nods and braces himself. The cord slips away, and the weight of the beam bears down on him. He is tired, and for a moment, he fears that it will crush him, but he draws a deep breath and centers himself.

Others join him, and together, they lift the post free and carry it out of the house. The old post falls to the wet ground with a hollow thud. Feng Yan claps his shoulder before he heads back inside.

Lan Wangji hesitates, unsure if he should follow, but Wei Wuxian comes to his side and bumps his arm. “Let’s go. There will be a lot of talismans that need replacing.”

Lan Wangji casts a look back at the house. Most of the other rescuers are trickling away, chatting and slapping each other’s backs. They could not save the house, but at least no lives were lost. He nods and follows Wei Wuxian back to the temple.

That night, Wen Qing elects to stay in the infirmary with her uncle, who was lucky to escape with only two broken ribs and minor injuries. Due to her absence, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stay in the temple’s kitchen to watch over Wen Ning. Tonight, his distress is mild. Perhaps the rain has dissuaded even the monsters from venturing out.

Though the storm calmed, rain still drifts against the walls. This is the first significant rain to occur since Lan Wangji’s arrival, but he isn’t surprised to learn that the roof leaks in multiple spots. The puddles he and Wei Wuxian formed with their wet robes deepen with the rain pattering through the leaky roof.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian collect every bowl and bucket they can scrounge to catch the rain, then sit by the warm kitchen stove. Even with Wen Ning bound to the bed across the room, the atmosphere is almost restful.

“Are the storms here often so severe?” Lan Wangji asks.

With his bare toes, Wei Wuxian nudges a bowl across the floor so that the raindrops that had been falling on the rim now land in the middle of the bowl. The gesture is simultaneously graceful and ridiculous.

“No,” Wei Wuxian says as after he’s refolded his legs in lotus position. “No, today was strange. It almost felt like . . .” He trails off, staring blankly at the rain plinking into the bowl.

“Like what?” Lan Wangji prompts. It is rare that Wei Wuxian needs prompting to speak—it seems to happen when Lan Wangji most wants him to explain himself.

“Malicious.”

“What do you mean?”

Wei Wuxian pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve never known those things to control the weather.” He shakes his head like he’s chasing away his thoughts. “It’s silly. I just had a bad feeling.”

“We replaced all of the talismans,” Lan Wangji says, trying to follow Wei Wuxian’s logic. Some had been blown away by the wind, but that hardly seems like a meaningful attempt to attack the village.

“Yeah. Yeah, we got them all,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Like I said, it’s silly. Up there with the lightning flashing all around me, I probably just got spooked.”

“Wei Wuxian does not seem easily ‘spooked.’”

Wei Wuxian snorts and grins. “No, I suppose not. Still, one of those lightning bolts nearly fried my hair!”

“That was dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m aware! That was not one of my better ideas.” His rueful grin turns sharp as he lifts an eyebrow at Lan Wangji. “But neither was holding that support beam up by yourself.”

Lan Wangji looks away and refuses to be scolded by the madman who rode a sword during a lightning storm. “It was not beyond my ability.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just lift the whole house up and toss it aside.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji pretends to be captivated by the flickering flames rather than meet Wei Wuxian’s dancing eyes. “What was the talisman you used today? That blue cord?”

“Ah, you liked that? I designed it several years ago, but I still haven’t thought of a good name for it.”

As Lan Wangji expected, Wei Wuxian gets thoroughly distracted by describing his talisman, and Lan Wangji indulges himself in watching Wei Wuxian’s clever hands fly through the air as he talks. The room is warm, the fire bright. Despite the danger they faced today—or perhaps because of it—he feels content, perhaps even proud. Today, he did not just save a stranger in peril—he worked with his fellows to save one of their own. Somehow, that feels more gratifying than anything else he’s accomplished.

Although the storm passed, the rain lingers the next day. They join Wen Ning when he travels to the infirmary, but Wen Qing shoos them away. There is little point in venturing farther, so Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return to the temple and spend the morning replenishing the talisman stores.

By the afternoon, Wei Wuxian has grown restless. He paces the temple, then falls onto the cushion beside Lan Wangji. After a few minutes of sulking, he hops back up to pace again. That cycle continues until Lan Wangji snaps shut the terrible book he is reading and says, “Perhaps you could try meditating.”

Wei Wuxian groans and stomps onto the porch, slamming the door behind him.

Lan Wangji attempts to return to his book, but it is even more irritating than the pacing and sulking. Then he takes his own advice and tries meditating. It doesn’t work. Even through the wall, it seems like he can feel Wei Wuxian pouting.

Perhaps Wei Wuxian’s restlessness is contagious, or perhaps the ants Lan Wangji feels under his skin are due to being trapped every night. In these circumstances, it is infuriating to also be shut up during the day.

With a sigh, he unfolds his legs and crosses to the window. From here, he can see Wei Wuxian huddled over his knees on the temple’s porch. This porch is a small rectangle of rough boards, barely sheltered from the rain by a thatched roof. The petulant expression Wei Wuxian has worn throughout the afternoon now looks bleaker, almost like hopelessness.

Lan Wangji watches him for a few moments, then goes to make tea. When he steps onto the porch to deliver it, he expects Wei Wuxian to snap at him, but Wei Wuxian only blinks, like he’s trying to remember who Lan Wangji is.

“Thanks," Wei Wuxian says as he accepts the tea. "Join me if you want.”

Lan Wangji hesitates, wondering if Wei Wuxian is only offering to be polite. Then he remembers that Wei Wuxian would never do anything he didn’t wish to for the sake of courtesy. Still, he can’t help saying, “I thought you might want time to yourself.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and shifts his eyes to the rain. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

The air is refreshing despite the chill and the mist drifting across the porch. Lan Wangji folds down beside him and cradles the warm cup in his hands.

Wei Wuxian flickers a smile. Lan Wangji nods back, pleased to have interpreted him correctly.

They watch the rain and sip the tea in something like companionable silence. Then Wei Wuxian sighs and stretches out his legs. “Sorry if I’ve been . . . difficult. I’ve always hated being cooped up.”

Lan Wangji could joke that Wei Wuxian is always difficult, but Wei Wuxian’s statement feels like a confession, like he is admitting to a vulnerability—quite unlike his usual arrogance. It seems to warrant a similar admission. “I dislike crowded spaces.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” But his elbow bumps Lan Wangji’s arm to relieve the sting. Such a simple gesture of camaraderie. Lan Wangji could not match it with every word in his vocabulary. He considers bumping back, but he hesitates too long. To do so now would be too awkward.

“Do you often hunt alone?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji blinks at the sudden change of topic. “Yes.”

“Huh.” Wei Wuxian stretches his feet to catch the rain dripping from the porch roof, then flicks the drops off his boots. “I thought sects like yours could spare more disciples for hunts. Not that I don’t think Hanguang Jun can handle himself.”

“I prefer to hunt alone.”

Wei Wuxian hums like he’s considering that, but for once, he doesn’t voice his opinion.

“Does Baoshan Sanren have many disciples?” Lan Wangji asks.

Silence follows. Lan Wangji turns to him. Wei Wuxian stares out into the muddy street, his eyes distant, like he is seeing another world in the billowing rain. “No,” he says finally, his voice thin. “No, there were only two of us. My shige and me.”

The past tense conveys enough for Lan Wangji to refrain from further questions. So it is a surprise when Wei Wuxian continues talking after only a brief pause.

“Shifu doesn’t take many disciples. She only accepted me because my mother was her disciple.”

Past tense again. Have the creatures taken Wei Wuxian’s mother’s face as well? Has she stood on this porch as his mother did, begging Wei Wuxian to save her? Did Wei Wuxian drive her away with the dizi, or did he watch her wail, eager for a glimpse of what he lost?

Lan Wangji swallows that down and clears his throat. “Your shifu must be proud. You are quite skilled.”

Wei Wuxian turns to him, his eyes wide and startlingly young. Then they drop to his knees. “I wish she were here. She would’ve already found a way out of this hellhole.”

I am glad it is you. The thought staggers him, bursting bright in his mind. He examines it, testing its edges. Perhaps Baoshan Sanren would be the wiser choice, but he doubts she has Wei Wuxian’s sunshine smiles. He cannot imagine himself joining Baoshan Sanren on the porch to watch the rain together. He cannot imagine how he could endure his time here without the man beside him.

What he feels for Wei Wuxian is a bright spark, an ember that he holds cupped in his hands, that he keeps still and quiet in the dark, lest it fan into a flame, too wild to be concealed.

Now, he covers its light, tucks it away. “I suspect Baoshan would be more useful in copying your talismans than I am,” Lan Wangji says, surprised that his voice sounds so calm.

“Nonsense,” Wei Wuxian scoffs, bumping his arm again. “Hanguang Jun’s calligraphy cannot be matched. I bet those monsters will flee in terror when they see your mighty brushstrokes.”

This time, Lan Wangji doesn’t hesitate to return the nudge, and Wei Wuxian’s laugh brightens the gloomy day.

Chapter Text

The rain ends overnight. In the morning, the street is slurred with the creatures’ tracks, but no one was lost. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian meet Feng Yan at the collapsed house, and he tells them that its former occupants will take Song Quan’s empty house. Gruesome, but the people here have learned to be practical.

Work has already begun clearing away the debris. Feng Yan declares that the house is beyond salvaging. “Maybe in the spring, we can build a new one,” Feng Yan says.

Lan Wangji’s fists clench at the easy acceptance, the assumption that they will still be trapped here in the spring. Feng Yan’s indifference is understandable, even commendable—if everyone were like the people who hound Lan Wangji’s steps demanding to be freed, nothing would be accomplished here. But Lan Wangji cannot allow himself the luxury of acceptance. It is his duty to deliver the people from this prison.

“Hanguang Jun,” Wei Wuxian says, “Is something wrong?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. Wei Wuxian seems chipper this morning despite having slept at the dining table again. But Wei Wuxian is good at donning masks. Suddenly, Lan Wangji wants nothing more than to strip away that mask and reach the part of Wei Wuxian that is true.

“Would you like to spar?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Now?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji turns to Feng Yan, who also looks perplexed. “We will return shortly.” Then Lan Wangji heads toward the western woods, not waiting to see if Wei Wuxian will follow.

Wei Wuxian’s boots slap in the mud as he trots to catch up. Lan Wangji allows himself a smirk which he banishes as Wei Wuxian reaches his side.

“I thought you were going to draw on me in the street!” Wei Wuxian says as they enter the woods. “Where did this idea come from?”

“I have not trained since I arrived. And you have been restless.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining.” Wei Wuxian bounces beside him, eager as a puppy. “I haven’t had a decent sparring partner in months. Wen Ning isn’t terrible, but he’s much better with a bow. I’ve even been tempted to teach He Minhui how to fight.”

“Unwise.” The thought of that young woman with a sword is truly terrifying.

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t do it.”

Lan Wangji halts in a suitable clearing, dotted with tree stumps from their previous lumbering trips. He turns to Wei Wuxian and draws his sword.

“Just like that, huh?” Wei Wuxian grins as he exchanges the dizi for the sword. “I figured you Lans had a thousand rules about dueling.”

“Only one: win.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and twirls his sword. Showy and a waste of time. Lan Wangji rolls his eyes and strikes.

Wei Wuxian blocks, still laughing. “Just as I expected: all business. Try to have some fun, Hanguang Jun.”

Lan Wangji presses again and succeeds in driving Wei Wuxian back two steps. “This is fun.”

Wei Wuxian whirls away and grins to cover how he pauses to reassess. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Come, then.”

And Wei Wuxian does.

The duel ends when the combined force of their sword glares topples a sapling at the edge of the clearing. Lan Wangji lets his sword drop, his arm trembling. Wei Wuxian falls back into the grass and laughs at the sky.

Lan Wangji surrenders to his elated exhaustion and drops down beside him. “Well fought.”

Wei Wuxian laughs again, his body rolling with it. “Yeah, you too. You may have to carry me back to town.”

“At the moment, I could not carry a jug of water,” Lan Wangji admits, and Wei Wuxian laughs even harder.

The fight did not draw blood, but tomorrow, his back will be bruised from Wei Wuxian knocking him into a tree. Wei Wuxian will likely have a bruise shaped like Lan Wangji’s boot on his chest. They are both stained green from the damp grass and streaked with mud. It was the most fun he has had in years, possibly ever.

“I hope they don’t expect us to do any heavy lifting today,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Mn. Perhaps Wen Qing has energy restoratives.”

“She does, but do you really think it’d be worth hearing her lecture about playing when we’re supposed to be working?”

“Training is important,” Lan Wangji argues. “But no.”

Wei Wuxian snorts a laugh, then wiggles over the grass until he can bump Lan Wangji with his knee. “You’re really good.”

“So are you.” Lan Wangji had expected Wei Wuxian to be proficient, but that duel exceeded his wildest hopes. He has never seen anything like Wei Wuxian’s style, and his power and skill are comparable with any of the leading cultivators. “You seem knowledgeable of our sect’s techniques.”

Wei Wuxian grunts an affirmative and shifts around, flexing his long legs. “Shifu knows a lot about your sect.”

“She does?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how. I asked once, but she just said it was ancient history. I guess when you’ve lived for hundreds of years, you’ve got a lot of that.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji lets his mind drift over that as he rotates his shoulder. It is already beginning to ache from blocking Wei Wuxian’s blows. If he were at home, he could soak in the cold spring to relieve the pain. For a moment, homesickness drags him under, as shocking as that icy water. What if he can never return home? What if his brother never discovers what happened to him? Xiongzhang has already lost so much, bears so much as sect leader.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you the day we met,” Wei Wuxian says, snapping Lan Wangji out of his thoughts.

“What?” He stares down at Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian keeps his eyes on the clouds overhead.

“I knew who you were. I’d seen you before.”

“Before I arrived here?”

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian’s boots sway rapidly, the only sign that he isn’t as calm as he pretends. “It was maybe a year ago. In Caiyi. I was hanging around the market, and someone said, ‘There’s Hanguang Jun.’ And there you were, walking down the street. The whole market stopped what they were doing to watch you pass by, but you didn’t seem to notice.”

Lan Wangji ducks his head. “I noticed.” He always notices the eyes following him. It seems easier to pretend he doesn’t, easier not to invite interaction.

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian drops his head to the side and smiles at him. “Not fond of crowds.”

It stuns him, the idea that he could have met Wei Wuxian that day, as fellow cultivators. If Wei Wuxian had introduced himself, how would he have responded? Would he have escaped at the first opportunity, as he usually does?

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I thought it might make the whole situation more suspicious.”

That is likely true. He had been wary enough that first day.

Wei Wuxian sighs and sits up. “We should probably go back.”

Lan Wangji nods and climbs to his feet. His robes are soaked from the grass, clammy against his skin now that he has cooled down from the duel.

Wei Wuxian pouts up at him from the ground. “Are you sure you can’t carry me?”

Lan Wangji lifts an eyebrow. “You may ride on my back.”

As he suspected, Wei Wuxian laughs and shakes his head. “I can’t make the noble Hanguang Jun my pack mule.” He heaves himself up, groaning and sagging. “Take it easy on me next time, okay? This poor mortal can’t endure such a beating.”

“I will attempt to restrain myself.”

They set off, moving much slower on the return trip. “Perhaps you will sleep better tonight,” Lan Wangji says.

“I sleep fine,” Wei Wuxian scoffs.

“The table is comfortable, then?”

“It’s not so bad. And I can sleep anywhere. Even on rooftops.”

Perhaps it is a blessing that Wei Wuxian is trapped indoors at night. The combination of wine and rooftops seems decidedly unwise.

But if it is true that he can sleep anywhere, then why does Wei Wuxian seem to have trouble sleeping beside him? Perhaps he has overlooked the obvious in his concern over Wei Wuxian’s sleeplessness.

“Am I unpleasant to sleep beside?”

“What?” Wei Wuxian turns to him. “No! Why would you ask that?”

“If I disturb you . . .”

Wei Wuxian whacks his dizi across Lan Wangji’s chest. “You don’t snore! I just tend to fall asleep in the middle of things. It isn’t because of you, I promise. Ask Wen Qing if you don’t believe me. She caught me sleeping on that table many times before you arrived.”

Wei Wuxian seems so earnest and bewildered that Lan Wangji inclines his head in acceptance. “But you do not get sufficient sleep. I could play for you. There are songs that ease the mind. They are useful in preparing one for sleep.”

“Lullabies?” Wei Wuxian grins, slow and coy. “Are you offering to rock me to sleep?”

Lan Wangji’s ears burn, but he lifts his chin and meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “I am told they are effective with unruly children.”

Wei Wuxian cackles with his head tossed back. “Alright then. I’ll try to be a good boy for Handsome-gege.”

Bichen’s hilt digs into Lan Wangji’s palm as he smothers the blazing cinder. “We shall see,” he intones in his best imitation of Shufu’s stern reproach. Wei Wuxian sways against him, laughing harder.

A few days later, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are performing the evening warning when a voice rings out behind them.

“Wei-gongzi!”

Wei Wuxian stops teasing Lan Wangji and turns toward the shout, the tip of the dizi still resting on Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Lan Wangji dampens the warning bell as Zhou Siyun runs toward them.

They meet the woman in the middle of the street. She sags, her skirts bunched in her fists. “Minhui,” she gasps. “She hasn’t come home.”

All three of them turn to the west, where the sun is slipping toward the treetops. “I’ve looked everywhere,” Zhou Siyun says, still struggling for breath. “She never stays out this late.”

“She probably just lost track of time,” Wei Wuxian says. “Was she fishing today?”

“Yes, in the western woods, at the pond.”

“Okay, go on home,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice light and reassuring. “We’ll bring her back.”

Lan Wangji tucks the bell into his pouch as he and Wei Wuxian walk towards the woods. Once they’re hidden by the trees, they run.

Flying would be faster, but if He Minhui is hurt, or even just napping under a tree, they could easily miss her from the air. The pond Zhou Siyun spoke of is far from the village. Even if they find her there and fly back, they still may not return before nightfall.

She is not at the pond. The setting sun spreads across the still water. “If she went to the eastern wood instead—” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “She would’ve told Zhou Siyun. She may not seem like it, but she’s a pretty responsible kid.” He turns in circles on the pond’s shore, his hands jammed on his hips. “Minhui!”

The only answer is a croak from the crows overhead.

Wei Wuxian sighs and turns to him. “Let’s head north. She might’ve gone to the creek.”

Lan Wangji nods, and they set off again, heading deeper into the woods.

The shadows lengthen as they run. Their calls fall into a pattern—one call every three strides, alternating between them. Lan Wangji strains his ears to hear a response over the hum of insects and the leaves rustling under his boots.

“Here,” a voice whispers, barely distinguishable from the wind.

Lan Wangji skids to a stop in a flurry of dark leaves. “Wei Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian trots to his side. “What is it?”

“Listen.”

“I’m up here,” the voice calls again. It is thin, timid. Nothing like He Minhui’s usual grumble.

They look up. He Minhui clings to a branch high above their heads.

Wei Wuxian huffs out a breath and leaps to the branch below her. Lan Wangji draws his sword and rides it to her position.

“What are you doing?” Wei Wuxian yells at her. “Can’t you see the sun’s setting?”

He Minhui scowls at him. Her face is filthy except for the tracks washed clean by her tears. “Something came out of the pond. I got away, but I twisted my ankle. I couldn’t run anymore, so I climbed up here.”

“Out of the pond?” Wei Wuxian asks. “What was it?”

“I don’t know, I got the hell out of there! Whatever it was, it was big.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchange a glance. One of the few benefits of their prison is that they have little trouble from creatures other than the shapeshifters, but apparently, something else lurks here.

“We must return,” Lan Wangji says. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” He Minhui climbs to her feet but winces when she tries to put weight on her injured ankle.

They do not have time for delicacy. Lan Wangji lifts the young woman into his arms. She yelps, but he ignores her and rises above the treetops. “Stay still,” he tells her. “Hold on tightly.”

Bichen surges forward. He Minhui gasps and hides her face against his shoulder. The trees blur below as they race the sun sinking behind them. He only spares one glace back, but as he expected, Wei Wuxian flies close behind.

Night has fallen when they land in the street outside the temple. The village does not bother with lanterns at night, so the darkness is heavy, broken only by the stars overhead and the dim glow from the boarded window.

Wei Wuxian reaches the door first. It does not open when he pulls at the handle. “Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian shouts, pounding his fist against the door. “Wen Qing, open up, it’s us!”

Lan Wangji lowers He Minhui to the ground, and she leans against him as they climb to the porch.

“Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian bellows. “C’mon, it’s really us! Minhui’s with us, and she’s hurt!”

The door does not open. Lan Wangji cannot fault Wen Qing. No one is allowed entry after nightfall, no matter who claims to be on the other side of the door.

Wei Wuxian keeps shouting and pounding. If he continues, he may punch a hole through the door.

“We can go to my house,” He Minhui suggests. “Nai-nai will let us in.”

“No time.” Lan Wangji says. “They are coming.”

The first creatures emerge from the woods. They stumble and weave like drunks leaving a tavern, like they are still adjusting to the human forms they have stolen for the night’s hunt.

His mother is among them. One is only a boy, perhaps ten years old. They all smile as they converge on the temple.

“Fuck!” Wei Wuxian aims a kick backwards against the door. “Wen Qing, open the fucking door!”

Lan Wangji pushes He Minhui towards Wei Wuxian and draws his sword. Maybe he cannot kill these creatures, but he’d like to see them try to bite without heads.

He leaps into the street and attacks the nearest creature. The creature makes no effort to defend itself. Bichen slides easily through its neck. Its head topples to the ground and rolls to stop, its mouth still grinning.

But even without eyes, the body still lurches towards Lan Wangji, its arms stretched and hands grasping. As he backs away, the creature’s form ripples, transforming from a headless man into a young woman. She tilts her new head and smiles at him like he’s told a clever joke.

The dizi sings out behind him. The creature’s smile contorts into a grimace, but it shakes its head and keeps reaching for him.

At least a dozen surround him now. “A-Zhan,” a creature croons to him. Its face has blurred, but its voice is still his mother’s. “A-Zhan, come to mother.”

The music blares louder, faster. The boy howls and falls to his knees, tearing at the dirt with long claws. A few others retreat back into the forest. But too many of the creatures stagger on, their stolen faces melting and warping. Lan Wangji takes more heads and limbs, to little effect. Only the music hinders their attacks.

If the creatures reach Wei Wuxian, they are lost.

By his feet, the limbs he’s collected wiggle and creep. A hand, no longer attached to an arm, scrabbles claws over his boot. He grunts disgust and kicks the hand away.

“A-Xian,” a man’s voice calls. “Shidi.”

Lan Wangji yanks his sword out of a creature’s chest and turns toward the voice. A young man in white robes stands still in the street, his hands tucked behind his back, smiling at Wei Wuxian. His eyes are covered by a white strip of fabric.

The music stops. Wei Wuxian stares back at the man, the dizi hovering below his lips.

“A-Xian, what have you done?” the creature in white asks. He still smiles, but his tone is scolding. “Why have you taken up these wicked tricks?”

“Wei Wuxian!” Lan Wangji calls, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Come with me, Shidi,” the creature says. “Let us return to the mountain. Let Shifu cleanse you of this evil.” It removes the blindfold. Beneath it, its eyes are dark pits. “She can save both of us.”

Lan Wangji slashes the creature’s back. The creature whirls and lunges for him, its mouth stretching wide to bare rows of sharp fangs.

The dizi sends out a shrill command. The creature howls and shudders, bent low by the music. Snarling, it twists back towards Wei Wuxian. “Wicked boy!” it hisses. Lan Wangji takes its head and kicks the body away.

“Hanguang Jun!”

Lan Wangji turns back to the temple. The door stands open. Wen Qing beckons to him from the doorway.

As he leaps toward the porch, Wei Wuxian plays again, keeping the creatures at bay until Lan Wangji passes through the door.

Wei Wuxian bangs in after him, and they turn together, slamming the door shut and securing the bolt.

“Shit,” Wei Wuxian gasps. He leans against the door, his hands bracing it shut. But there is no need. The creatures shuffle and growl on the porch, but they do not touch the door.

Wei Wuxian is trembling. Blood drips down his chin. Lan Wangji raises a hand, meaning to lay it on his shoulder, but Wei Wuxian pushes away from the door and scrubs his hands over his face. Lan Wangji’s hand drops back to his side.

“Hanguang Jun.”

He turns to Wen Qing, who is trying to help He Minhui into the backroom. He goes to them and tucks the young woman against his side. She sags against him, trembling, and allows him to guide her through the door.

But inside, she stiffens and clings to the doorframe. On the bed, Wen Ning thrashes, his eyes white, his teeth bared.

“It’s okay,” Wen Qing tells her. “He won’t hurt you.”

“What’s wrong with him?” He Minhui whispers, her eyes never leaving Wen Ning.

“The creatures affect him.” Wen Qing turns to Lan Wangji. “Will you . . .?”

He nods. After he hands He Minhui over to Wen Qing, he calls to his guqin and begins to play.

Halfway through the song, Wei Wuxian joins them, now all smiles and easy charm. He wags a finger at He Minhui. “You have caused a lot of trouble, young lady.”

She rolls her eyes, but the gesture lacks her usual disdain. Even while Wen Qing examines her ankle, her eyes barely leave Wen Ning.

“It isn’t broken,” Wen Qing says as she wraps He Minhui’s ankle. “But you’ll need to stay off it.”

“For how long?” He Minhui asks.

“As long as you can.”

He Minhui sighs, and Wei Wuxian pats her head. “Looks like you’re going to be sticking around here for a while. You can play chess with Si-shu.”

“Chess is stupid,” she mutters, crossing her arms and giving Wei Wuxian an impressive pout.

“So is twisting your ankle,” Wei Wuxian shoots back. “Good thing Hanguang Jun was there to carry you home.”

Her cheeks redden. “Thank you, Hanguang Jun,” she mumbles.

“No need,” Lan Wangji mumbles back. Wei Wuxian’s hand squeezes his shoulder for one warm moment before he goes back to teasing their guest.

Wei Wuxian bullies He Minhui into helping them make dinner, and by the time it is ready, she has calmed considerably. However, after they’ve eaten, she follows them back to the front room.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian sit at the dining table. Lan Wangji begins cleaning his sword, and as he often does, Wei Wuxian slouches at the table to watch him work.

He Minhui goes to the window and peers through the slats.

“Are they still out there?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“No.” Her nose wrinkles. “All the heads and stuff are gone, too.” She leaves the window and hobbles around the room. There is little to inspect, however, so eventually, she drops down between them.

“Do you want a book or something?” Wei Wuxian asks.

She shakes her head. Then they both prop their chins in their hands to watch Lan Wangji.

“His sword’s name is Bichen,” Wei Wuxian says. “Good name, right?”

She shrugs. “Better than yours.”

Lan Wangji allows himself a small smirk at Wei Wuxian’s sputter.

“Why don’t they die?” He Minhui asks.

Lan Wangji raises his eyes to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian returns his gaze, then shrugs and turns to He Minhui. “We don’t know.”

“But—” She picks up one of Wei Wuxian’s brushes and mimics slashing a sword. “But Hanguang Jun cut their heads off. And they just grew new ones. Like it didn’t even hurt.”

“The dizi hurts them,” Lan Wangji says. Wei Wuxian sends him a smile over the table. Lan Wangji looks back at his sword.

“But why?” He Minhui wails. “How does music do that?”

“It isn’t just music,” Wei Wuxian says. He taps her head with the dizi. “It’s magic.”

She snorts and bats the dizi away. To her, the dizi is just that—a musical instrument. And the talismans are just scraps of paper. Likely she and the rest of the villagers will never understand the miracles Wei Wuxian has performed for them. They will surely never understand how lucky they are to have such a savior.

Wen Qing comes to the door and calls to He Minhui. “Your pallet is ready.”

“Can’t I sleep here?” He Minhui asks.

Wen Qing hesitates, her hands twisting together. “If you want.” She disappears back into the kitchen.

Wei Wuxian sighs and pokes He Minhui with the dizi. “It’s just Wen Ning,” he says gently. “Your friend.”

“I know,” she mutters. “It’s just—there’s more room in here.”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian agrees, “but I like to stay up late. And Hanguang Jun snores.”

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes, and she laughs.

“Go sleep with Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian says. “It’s warmer back there.”

She sighs, long and aggrieved. “Fine.” She pushes herself up but pauses at the door. “Will you teach me how to swordfight?”

“No,” Lan Wangji grunts at the same time Wei Wuxian blurts, “Absolutely not!”

She groans and stomps away.

After she’s gone, Wei Wuxian slumps back onto the table. “I think you and I are smarter than we realized.”

“How so?”

“Neither of us got married. Just think: if we had wives, we’d probably have kids, too. Can you imagine dealing with that every day?”

Lan Wangji smiles as he sheathes his sword. “You make an excellent point. However, A-Yuan is a good child.”

“For now.” Wei Wuxian lays his cheek on his folded arms. “But someday, he’ll be just like her.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji goes to put away his sword. While he prepares for bed, he imagines what Wei Wuxian must have been like at He Minhui’s age. Too clever for his own good, he expects. Arrogant. Likely even more ridiculous than he is now. For some reason, the thought makes him smile.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian deliver He Minhui to Zhou Siyun. After that ecstatic reunion, they head back to the pond in the western woods to find He Minhui’s monster.

Wei Wuxian twirls the dizi, nearly dancing as they walk. They are both eager to find the creature that He Minhui encountered. It will be a nice change to hunt an enemy that they can actually kill. Hopefully.

“Is Zhou Siyun really her grandmother?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No. Zhou Siyun lost her granddaughter here—that was before I arrived. He Minhui came along later, and Zhou Siyun pretty much adopted her.”

“He Minhui arrived alone?”

“Yeah. I get the sense that she doesn’t have anybody out there. I know how terrible this sounds, but I think this place has been kind of good for her. At least here she has somebody looking out for her.”

“It is not terrible. Zhou Siyun clearly cares for her.”

Do you have anybody out there? he wants to ask. Not Wei Wuxian’s mother. Not his shige, if Lan Wangji interpreted last night’s events correctly. Wei Wuxian’s theory—and Lan Wangji has seen no evidence otherwise—is that the creatures can only take the form of those who’ve died. If the blindfolded man was Baoshan’s other disciple, then it’s possible that the only person Wei Wuxian has left is his shifu.

Wei Wuxian is talking about something, but Lan Wangji cannot focus on the words. Let it be me, he thinks as he watches Wei Wuxian, painted gold by the sunlight. Let me be the one who cares for you, here and now, out there and ever after.

The dizi taps his shoulder. “What are you thinking about, Handsome-gege?”

Lan Wangji drags his eyes to the path ahead. Too much. He wants too much, like a fire that consumes everything in its path. “The creature He Minhui described. Do you have a theory?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and gives the dizi a flip. “To be honest, I’m half expecting an alligator. She’s just a kid. She probably got spooked, and her imagination went wild.”

“An alligator in a pond?”

“Maybe he wandered over from his river and got trapped here like we did.”

“She said it had red eyes.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “They always have red eyes, don’t they? Every time a villager runs into some little yao, they make up stories of red-eyed monsters. How many of those have you actually seen, Hanguang Jun?”

“Very few,” Lan Wangji admits. “But it is possible.”

“Sure. So is getting trapped in a village with shapeshifting monsters. Doesn’t mean it’s likely.”

“As you say.”

“Not that I’d mind finding some horrid beastie,” Wei Wuxian chirps. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had a proper scuffle, your noble self notwithstanding, of course.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji echoes. He dodges Wei Wuxian’s attempted shoulder bump, and Wei Wuxian laughs as he staggers back on the path.

When they reach the pond, the surface is calm. It looks as it always does—a peaceful pond, an unlikely home for the beast He Minhui described. Not that she had actually seen much of this terrible beast.

Wei Wuxian’s face tightens as he crouches to examine tracks left on the shore. Their own boot prints remain from yesterday evening, but there are also deep furrows in the mud, and the tall grass is bent and broken.

“If it is an alligator, it’s a big one,” Wei Wuxian says as he rises to his feet.

They roam around the pond but find no more signs. Wei Wuxian flicks his nose as they stare at the water. “I could just dive in and—”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian snorts and pokes him with the dizi. “Fine, spoil my fun. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Noise.”

“Get its attention? Yeah, that makes sense, but how?”

“Wei Wuxian is adept at making noise.”

“That I am.” Wei Wuxian grins and gives the dizi a spin before tucking it into his belt. With a flick of his wrist, a talisman appears in his hand. “Stand back, Er-gongzi.”

Lan Wangji steps back. Wei Wuxian takes aim. The talisman flies to the center of the pond. When the talisman hits the surface, it explodes. The tranquil water erupts in a towering geyser.

Ears ringing from the boom, Lan Wangji watches the water churn. Wei Wuxian trots to his side, grinning. He says something that Lan Wangji cannot make out. Lan Wangji turns to him and raises an eyebrow.

“I SAID,” Wei Wuxian shouts, “WAS THAT LOUD ENO—”

Lan Wangji doesn’t catch the rest because something wraps around his boot and yanks him off his feet.

The attack is so sudden that before his mind can grasp what’s happening, he’s already sliding through the mud and into the pond. Water closes over his head, and he’s dragged down into the dark.

The cold shocks him from his stupor, and he draws his sword. Light shines from the blade and reflects in two large red eyes.

The owner of those eyes cringes back from the light, but the thing wrapped around his leg grips tighter. For the moment, he ignores the head and slashes at the thing binding his leg. If he doesn’t free himself, it may tear his leg from his torso.

But the creature is jerking him through the water, and his wild swings fail to make contact. Red light bursts in the depths around him. Wei Wuxian must be attacking the creature, but he has no time to consider that now. He curls himself into a ball and jabs down. After a few tries, the sword sinks into something solid.

The thing twitches but doesn’t release him. He stabs it again, then starts sawing at the thing like he’s trimming off a tree branch.

The creature roars, and the thing unwinds from his leg. Now free, he can worry about the lack of air. His chest burns, and his right leg is numb, but he kicks with the left, pushing toward the surface.

But he is so slow. His right leg drags him down, dead weight. The urge to take a breath is so strong, the light above so distant.

Something wraps around his waist, and he startles, frantically trying to pull away, but the thing only grips him tighter.

He is still fighting the grip when he breaks the surface. It is only when Wei Wuxian shouts, “Breathe!” that he realizes the thing around his waist is Wei Wuxian’s arm.

He chokes in blessed air as Wei Wuxian hauls him to the shore. When they reach the bank, he goes to his knees, still choking.

“Tentacles!” Wei Wuxian gasps. “She didn’t mention anything about fucking tentacles!”

Lan Wangji gurgles agreement. That detail would have been useful.

“Shit, here it comes.”

The creature rises from the water, uncoiling like a snake. Its body is serpentine and scaled, and its head is tipped with curving horns. One great red eye glares from the creature’s face. The other eye is a dark pit, likely scorched by one of Wei Wuxian’s talismans. Three tentacles unfurl from its body and creep towards them. The fourth, the one Lan Wangji sawed, floats limply on the water’s surface.

“Stay back!” Wei Wuxian shouts.

“Wait!” Lan Wangji shouts back, but Wei Wuxian is already running towards the pond.

Gritting his teeth, Lan Wangji pushes himself up. Sensation is already returning to his leg, but it will take time to recover fully. The wise thing to do would be to withdraw and reassess, to plan and coordinate their attacks. Instead, Wei Wuxian is sailing merrily into battle with an enormous monster. And he seems to think that Lan Wangji will wait placidly on the shore while he does so.

Unlikely.

Wei Wuxian leaps around the bank, firing talismans and using his speed to evade the tentacles. Lan Wangji takes a shrewder approach: he waits for the monster to come to him. When one of the tentacles reaches for him, he dodges it and whirls back. Bichen hacks through the slimy skin. The tentacle thuds to the ground, and the stump withdraws, spewing black ichor.

The creature roars and falls back. While Lan Wangji was occupied, Wei Wuxian took another tentacle. Now only one suckered arm waves from the creature’s core. But even without its tentacles, it is still daunting. There is no way to know how much of the creature still lingers below the surface, but even the portion they can see is longer than four men.

The creature sinks down into the water until only its snout is visible and watches them sulkily. Or perhaps unlike Wei Wuxian, it is wise enough to pause and reassess.

Wei Wuxian lands beside him. “Any ideas for finishing this thing off?”

“Now you ask?”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Lan Wangji flicks ichor from his sword. “Its hide looks thick. Could your cord cut through it?”

“Maybe. I’ve never used it to decapitate a giant snake.”

Lan Wangji rummages through his pouch until he finds the spare guqin strings. He stretches the string between his hands and tries to gauge how much is needed to encircle the creature’s body. Although the creature is long, its body is relatively slender. There is a spell to lengthen the string, but adding length could reduce its strength. Either way, he will have to get quite close to the creature.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says as he watches Lan Wangji examine the string. “You’re thinking about that chord technique you told me about.”

“Mn, the chord assassination technique. However, it would be helpful to restrain the creature first.”

“Okay, looks like we need a plan.”

Lan Wangji resists rolling his eyes, and they move out of reach of the remaining tentacle to discuss their options. The creature continues to glare at them but makes no move to pursue.

Armed with a plan, they once again approach the pond. The creature snarls a threat as it watches them come.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian says to the creature, “this is your own fault. You shouldn’t go around scaring little girls.”

The creature bares its fangs as it unwinds, rising high above their heads. It roars a challenge, and Wei Wuxian yells back.

While Wei Wuxian distracts the creature, Lan Wangji edges around the pond, headed for the last tentacle. Sparks burst in the creature’s face—the signal to attack. Lan Wangji launches Bichen toward the tentacle.

However, the creature is not so easily distracted. The tentacle whips away from the sword, then slithers back toward him. He vaults into the air, narrowly avoiding the attack. Bichen flies back to his hand, and then he is in the strangest duel of his life: his sword against a suckered tentacle.

The creature has learned to be wary of the sword. It feints and retreats too quickly for him to strike. Still, its pattern is easy to learn. When it attacks again, he ducks under the slimy arm and spins, swinging the sword before the tentacle can retract. It escapes before he can complete the blow, but he manages to split the tentacle open so that the tip dangles harmlessly.

“Watch out!” Wei Wuxian screams.

Immediately, Lan Wangji launches himself back. As he soars, he sees the creature bearing down on him with Wei Wuxian clinging to its neck. There is only a heartbeat to consider his options. If he fires a sword glare, it could hit Wei Wuxian, but if he does nothing, the creature’s jaws will snap him in half.

He chooses the sword glare. As he hoped, Wei Wuxian reacts instantly. Wei Wuxian dives to safety, and the blue light strikes the creature’s remaining eye in a brilliant blast. The creature shrieks and writhes, its useless stumps flailing in the water.

Wei Wuxian’s head pops out of the water, and he starts swimming toward the shore. Lan Wangji runs to pull him onto the bank.

“Great!” Wei Wuxian gasps once he’s back on shore. “Now onto the hard part.”

For the next part, they mount their swords. If it were wise, the creature would withdraw into the water, but even if it is capable of wisdom, it is too enraged to act prudently. They whirl around it in dizzying circles, intent on antagonizing it into desperate fury.

The method is working. The creature lunges after them, churning the water with its frenzied attacks. Wei Wuxian casts a flurry of talismans that pop in red fireworks around the creature’s head. “Now!” Wei Wuxian shouts.

While the creature howls, Lan Wangji casts Wei Wuxian’s cord talisman. The end wraps around a sturdy oak near the pond’s edge. When it is secure, he sends the other end around the creature’s neck. Moments later, Wei Wuxian does the same on the other side.

They fall back, waiting to see if their snare will hold. The creature bellows and thrashes, but the cords hold it in place.

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says. “Let’s finish it.”

Lan Wangji nods and pulls out the guqin string, now stretched to three times its original length.

Wei Wuxian flies in front of the creature and bombards it with talismans while Lan Wangji sails through the trees and emerges behind it.

He lands behind the creature’s head and lashes the guqin string around its throat. It roars and tries to fling him off, but he digs his heels into its scales and pulls the string tight.

His face presses against the creature’s scales, startlingly hot and stinking of rot. The skin beneath him writhes and pulsates. He has always hated slimy things—worms and snakes, especially—and his disgust is almost strong enough to make him release the creature.

It may not matter because the guqin string is failing to cut through the creature’s thick hide. He leans back, pulling as hard as he can, but the creature’s throat resists the string. His gloves offer some protection, but already, the cord bites into his skin.

“It isn’t working!” Wei Wuxian shouts.

I am aware, Lan Wangji would say, but his jaw is clenched shut with effort.

He can barely make out Wei Wuxian darting around on the other side of the creature’s head. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian shoots up. Lan Wangji cranes his neck as far as he can to see where he’s gone, but he nearly unbalances and has to lean forward again.

“Shiiiiit!” Wei Wuxian yells.

Lan Wangji only gets a brief glimpse of Wei Wuxian diving down, sword held in front of him, before Wei Wuxian lands on the creature’s head. The first blow misses, glancing off the creature’s skull. The creature throws its head back, and Wei Wuxian nearly topples off, grabbing onto one of the short horns at the last second. The creature snorts in triumph and snaps at Wei Wuxian’s dangling legs.

Lan Wangji hauls back on the string like he’s reining in a stubborn horse. The creature hacks out a growl as it fights his control.

While the creature is distracted, Wei Wuxian scrambles back on its snout and thrusts Suibian deep into its remaining eye.

Shrieking, the creature thrashes, snapping the cords that restrain it. Its death throes whip them through the air until finally, the creature rattles out its final breath

Wei Wuxian whoops, his sword still sunk in the creature’s eye socket. Then the creature pitches forward.

“Oh shit!” Wei Wuxian yelps. Lan Wangji drops the guqin string and leaps to the shore. But Wei Wuxian still clings to the creature’s snout, frantically trying to yank his sword free.

“Let go!” Lan Wangji shouts, but it’s too late. The creature splashes into the water with Wei Wuxian beneath it.

“Wei Ying!”

Lan Wangji dives in. The battle has turned the world beneath the surface into murky clouds that even Bichen’s light can barely breach. He swims around the creature’s coils, frantically searching for Wei Wuxian and finding only dark scales.

Finally, Bichen’s light picks out a waving hand in the distance, and he lunges toward it. Wei Wuxian is pinned to the bottom of the pond by the creature’s massive head. Lan Wangji jabs Bichen into its gaping mouth and pushes until he’s shoved the head aside. He grabs Wei Wuxian’s arm, and together, they kick off the bottom and swim for the surface.

They break the surface and tread water, too breathless to swim to shore.

“Thanks,” Wei Wuxian gasps.

Lan Wangji stares back, incandescent with rage. Finally, he huffs and starts swimming away.

When they return to shore, Wei Wuxian drops onto the grass and wrings water from his muddy hair. Suibian lies beside him. Lan Wangji is tempted to toss it back in the pond.

Ridiculous man. They could have easily retrieved the sword after the creature fell. There was no reason for Wei Wuxian to endanger himself like that. And that reckless dive onto the creature’s head! Pure madness. It is as if he wants to die.

He puts his back to Wei Wuxian and stares at the now placid water and the chunks of tentacle littering the bank. Now that the battle is over, he quakes from the surge of adrenaline and lingering terror. It is too easy to imagine Wei Wuxian drowned at the bottom of the pond, his bright eyes empty.

“Are you ready to go?” Wei Wuxian calls behind him. “I could use a bath.”

Lan Wangji whirls and walks away without answering. Wei Wuxian trots to catch up.

The problem with being a rather quiet person is that sometimes people don’t notice when he is punishing them with silence. “This will make a great story, right?” Wei Wuxian says. “I mean, it’d be best not to spread it around the village. Wouldn’t want to terrify everybody. But we’ll have to tell a few people. We’ll need help getting that corpse out of the pond. We can’t have people coming out here to fish and finding that thing!”

Lan Wangji strides ahead, his knuckles tight on Bichen’s hilt, his feet squelching in his sodden boots. The anger refuses to abate. He wouldn’t be surprised if steam were rising from his robes.

If Wei Wuxian notices, he gives no sign. “Have you ever seen anything like that? I haven’t. I’ve seen my share of snake monsters, and a few things with tentacles, but nothing like that. Hey, if no one’s ever heard of it, does that mean we get to name it?”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji hisses.

“Fine, I’ll name it myself. I’ll call it . . . pond serpent? No, that’s terrible, ponds aren’t scary. Mud serpent? Even worse. Ooh, abyss!” His hand smacks Lan Wangji’s arm. “The Serpent of the Abyss!”

Lan Wangji wheels toward him, his back teeth grinding together. “Stop your blathering!”

Wei Wuxian’s glee turns cold. His mouth twists in a smirk. “My blathering? Hanguang Jun, is this how you show gratitude to someone who saved your life?”

Lan Wangji clenches his jaw. “Thank you for aiding me. I believe I saved you as well.”

“You did.” Wei Wuxian salutes him, which is somehow more sarcastic than his smirk. “My thanks, Hanguang Jun.”

“You were reckless,” Lan Wangji says, the words snarling out despite how he tries to hold them back. “You attacked without strategy, you foolishly tried to retrieve your sword instead of—”

“My strategy is none of your concern,” Wei Wuxian snaps.

“It is my concern when we are working together!” Lan Wangji snaps back. “You were impetuous! You disregarded your own safety!”

“And whose idea was it to ride a snake monster?” Wei Wuxian yells, jabbing his finger at Lan Wangji’s chest. “Is that your idea of being safe?”

“The risk was minimal,” Lan Wangji argues, knowing his logic is weak.

Wei Wuxian hisses through his teeth. Then he stomps away, shaking his head.

Wei Wuxian is right to be offended. It is only that Lan Wangji’s fear still shakes him, colder than the water drenching his robes. But he has no right, no claim. He cannot bind Wei Wuxian to him, could never hold him close enough to satisfy his grasping heart.

“Wei Wuxian,” he croaks. Wei Wuxian doesn’t slow.

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian stumbles to a halt. He keeps his back turned, his shoulders tight. But he waits as Lan Wangji approaches.

“Wei Ying—”

Wei Wuxian turns slowly, his smirk scorching. “Lan Zhan,” he purrs.

Whatever Lan Wangji meant to say burns to ashes. “You—” You idiot. You brilliant, impossible fool. You beautiful, ridiculous brat.

Without realizing it, Lan Wangji has grasped Wei Wuxian’s arm. Wei Wuxian lays his hand over Lan Wangji’s as if he means to remove it, but Lan Wangji grips tighter. Wei Wuxian sighs and pats Lan Wangji’s hand like Lan Wangji is a sulky child.

“Scolding doesn’t work on me,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m not one of your meek little disciples.”

Lan Wangji digs his fingers into Wei Wuxian’s arm. “What does work?”

The arrogant smirk slips, then returns in a faded facsimile. “What?”

Lan Wangji uses his grip to pull himself closer, pushing into Wei Wuxian’s space. The ember in his belly hisses and sparks. “What do you respond to?”

Wei Wuxian huffs and slides his eyes to the side. But he does not attempt to get away, Lan Wangji cannot help to note.

“To change my ways? Not much.” Wei Wuxian flicks him a coy glance from beneath lowered eyelashes. “How do you punish your disciples, Er-gege?”

“I do not wish to punish you,” Lan Wangji says. But he does. Part of him wants to punish Wei Wuxian for scaring him, for digging his long fingers into Lan Wangji’s chest and making him feel this, this wildness, this fevered longing.

Wei Wuxian hums and relaxes in Lan Wangji’s grip, doing so deliberately, ostentatiously. “Then what do you want?”

What does he want? Many things. Many dark, grasping things. And some that are too bright to look at, like wrapping his ribbon around Wei Wuxian’s wrist and claiming him for his own. But right now, what he wants most is to wipe that false smirk from Wei Wuxian’s face. He wants to see something true, not the confident mask Wei Wuxian wears in the village. Not this flippant flirting, meant to send him running. He wants Wei Wuxian to look as flayed open as he feels.

He lunges and crashes his mouth against that smirk. Wei Wuxian grunts and sways back with the force of it, but Lan Wangji firms his grip on Wei Wuxian’s arm. His other hand captures Wei Wuxian’s waist and pulls him closer.

Wei Wuxian groans then, the pained sound a man makes when the sword is pulled from his gut—pain and relief mingling in a low rattle. Wei Wuxian’s hand clutches Lan Wangji’s arm, his lips part for Lan Wangji’s attack.

In the poetry housed in Cloud Recesses’ library, kisses are soft surrenders, sweet declarations of love that is pure, in harmony with heaven. Those poets cannot know of this. This is harsh, almost bitter, furious clutches with hands too used to wielding swords to know how to caress. This is beastly grunts and savage bites to lips and jaws.

It is only when Lan Wangji presses Wei Wuxian against a tree, pinning him there with hands and thighs, with teeth on his tender throat, that Lan Wangji can begin to restrain himself. Only when he is sure that Wei Wuxian cannot dart away do his kisses slow, ceasing the assault to pay heed to the tastes and textures of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, of his skin, though too little is bared to appease his hunger.

Once he is trapped against the tree trunk, Wei Wuxian transforms from a bowstring taut and ready to fly to something warm and languorous, to yielding flesh that glides against him, twines around him. Moaning, Wei Wuxian submits his throat for Lan Wangji’s mouth, spreads his legs for Lan Wangji’s thigh.

“Fuck,” Wei Wuxian gasps. “Oh sweet fuck.” Wei Wuxian’s hands wiggle between them. This is too much of a barrier for Lan Wangji, and he snarls, slamming Wei Wuxian harder against the tree.

Wei Wuxian hisses and snaps at his ear. “I’m trying to untie your robe, you monster.” There is laughter in his voice, and although that pleases Lan Wangji, it does nothing to calm him. Still, he withdraws until there is a sliver of space between them and tries to stop grinding against Wei Wuxian so that he may untie the sash.

It takes too long, and he is once again lost in gnawing Wei Wuxian’s jaw when Wei Wuxian’s hand slides over his cock. Hissing, he bucks into the warmth.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian croons. “Let me take care of you.”

The entirety of his world narrows to Wei Wuxian’s hand stroking over his trousers. His hips jerk, seeking more. The breath staggers out of him as Wei Wuxian’s hand slips into his trousers and warm fingers wrap around his cock.

“So hard for me. So wet.” Wei Wuxian chants decadence into Lan Wangji’s ear as he strokes faster. “Is it good, gege?”

It is. It is something beyond what poetry can tell, but it is only a shadow of all he wants. He rips Wei Wuxian’s hand away, and they tumble to the ground.

Undaunted by being tossed to the earth, Wei Wuxian reaches up to drag Lan Wangji down on top of him. For a while, Lan Wangji is lost, thrusting mindlessly against Wei Wuxian, his cock dragging against damp fabric.

Finally, he regains his wits enough to lift up and start tearing at Wei Wuxian’s robes. “Yeah, gege,” Wei Wuxian babbles, doing nothing to help him. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

Snarling, Lan Wangji flings the last robe open and starts on Wei Wuxian’s trousers. Wei Wuxian lifts his hips as Lan Wangji pulls them down to his thighs. The sight of Wei Wuxian’s cock, flushed and jutting from the thatch of hair, strikes him stupid again. He falls forward, returns to the now familiar ground of kissing, rocks down to feel Wei Wuxian’s hot length against his own.

Wei Wuxian shoves down Lan Wangji’s trousers and rolls up to meet him. “That’s good, that’s so good. Let me feel you, just like that.”

One of Wei Wuxian’s hands tangles in his hair, dragging his mouth down to meet his. The other clutches his hip, urging him on. “Yes, gege, oh fuck that’s good.”

Lan Wangji groans his agreement and moves faster, the damp robes hissing, his skin scorching. Beneath him, Wei Wuxian whines and stills, his hips giving a final jerk as he splatters against Lan Wangji’s skin. Lan Wangji grinds himself down into the mess, burying his cry against Wei Wuxian’s neck as he burns white hot.

When it’s done, he lies between Wei Wuxian’s thighs, heaving harsh breaths that puff into Wei Wuxian’s damp hair. The world returns slowly in cheerful birdsong and the soft scuttle of fallen leaves. Shame cuts through his elation. Has he taken too much? Certainly he has chosen a poor venue to unleash his ardor.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers have been carding through his hair. Now they grasp a strand and tug. “Are you okay?”

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji fumbles his way free and lands heavily on his ass. Parts of him burn; others are chilled by wet robes and cold wind. He tugs at the trousers tangled around his thighs and finally manages to return himself to some kind of order. Given his overall state, the results are questionable.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian drawls, “that was . . . unexpected.”

Lan Wangji allows himself a brief glimpse back. Wei Wuxian is still lying in the grass, wriggling back into his trousers. That glimpse does nothing for his composure. “I apologize,” he mutters.

Wei Wuxian sighs gustily and sits up. “If you’re apologizing for biting my head off, then I accept. I admit that I could’ve been a bit more strategic in my approach. But if you’re apologizing for what came after . . .” There is a nudge to Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Please, please do not apologize for that.”

“You—” Lan Wangji bites the words back and stares down at his muddy knees. “I should not have—I was overcome.”

“No kidding.” Wei Wuxian crawls beside him and bumps their shoulders together. “It was fantastic.”

“It was?”

“You didn’t like it?”

He swallows, his ears burning. “I liked it.”

“Good. You should let yourself be overcome more often.”

“I will consider it.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and sways against him. “I hope so. We should get back, though. These poor robes have endured enough damage for one day.”

He hums agreement. There is pond scum where no pond scum should ever venture, not to mention what is rapidly drying on his stomach.

When Wei Wuxian offers a hand to help him up, he accepts. Then Wei Wuxian fusses with Lan Wangji’s robes as if a bit of tidying could matter at this point. “Today has certainly been one for surprises,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. His pleased smile reaches deep in Lan Wangji’s gut, stirring the coals with deft fingers. For a lurching heartbeat, Lan Wangji thinks that Wei Wuxian will kiss him, but Wei Wuxian only gives his chest a final pat and sets off through the trees.

Chapter Text

Returning to the temple, washing off the muck, dumping their robes into the tub afterwards—these things occur, but he withdraws his mind from them, his limbs operating on their own accord. Control is what he needs. Distance. Space to manage his wild heart.

Somehow, the afternoon passes. While Wei Wuxian relays the battle to Wen Qing and Wen Ning, Lan Wangji peels and chops the vegetables that Wen Qing sets before him. Carrots, perhaps. Definitely ginger—the sharp scent lingers on his fingers. He eats whatever dish Wen Ning used the vegetables for, not tasting a bite.

After dinner, he cleans and sharpens his sword. Wei Wuxian sits across from him with a jug of wine and a stack of talisman paper. It is fine. It is normal. They have sat like this on many nights. He only has to keep his eyes on the blade.

It is a relief when the time to sleep arrives. Lan Wangji goes to the washstand as he does every night. But unlike every night, Wei Wuxian follows him.

“How are your hands?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji stiffens but doesn’t resist when Wei Wuxian reaches for his hand. Wei Wuxian turns his hand over to examine his palm.

Oh. The wounds from the guqin string.

“Not bad,” Wei Wuxian says. He strokes his thumb over the faint red line crossing Lan Wangji’s palm. “You heal fast.”

“The gloves helped,” Lan Wangji croaks.

The corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth quirks up. “See? This is why you should always listen to me. I’m very wise, you know.”

Lan Wangji nods. He doesn’t have the strength to argue with his hand cradled so gently in Wei Wuxian’s grip.

Wei Wuxian gives his palm another stroke and then releases him. “I’ll let you get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Mn. You should sleep as well.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes, but he grins as he strolls back to the table. “I will. I promise, Lan Zhan.”

He throws the name over his shoulder casually, but it strikes a brutal blow to Lan Wangji’s heart.

“Good night. Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian looks up from his talismans and shines a smile across the room. Lan Wangji retreats to his pallet before that smile can burn him to ashes.

Lan Wangji wakes in the dimness of mao shi. Wei Wuxian sleeps beside him. On most mornings, Lan Wangji refrains from looking, both respecting Wei Wuxian’s privacy and shielding himself from temptation. This morning, he cannot help it. Wei Wuxian lies on his back, his neck stretched long and his arms flung to the sides. His shirt gapes over his chest, baring a dazzling stretch of skin. Today that skin is dotted with dark marks.

For a moment, he wonders if the wounds happened during the battle, but then realization dawns. He made them. He attacked that tender throat and left a trail of bites and bruises. He should feel ashamed—and he does—but his shame is eclipsed by a roar of fire. It burns hotter when he raises his hand to his own throat to stroke the wounds Wei Wuxian gave him.

Wei Wuxian sighs and shifts, twisting toward him, and Lan Wangji flees. If the sun had risen, he might have flown out the door in his nightclothes. However, reason asserts itself, and he only goes as far as the dining table.

He folds onto the cushion and closes his eyes, fingers twisting in his trousers. When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by a drawing left on the table, positioned neatly at his spot. In the drawing, the serpent roars as Lan Wangji strangles it with the guqin string. He huffs out a laugh and lights a candle to examine it more closely.

Much later, Wei Wuxian wakes with his usual glower and plops down at the table. Lan Wangji slides over a bowl of congee. Wei Wuxian mumbles something that might be “thanks” and begins the daily trial of getting the spoon into his mouth. Lan Wangji returns to the entry he is adding to his journal to avoid staring at Wei Wuxian’s throat.

Once he has washed and dressed, Wei Wuxian rejoins him at the table. “What are you writing?”

“I keep a record of creatures I encounter,” Lan Wangji explains.

“Like descriptions of the battles?”

“Mn. And the enemies’ behavior, strengths and weaknesses, suggested tactics.”

“Sounds handy. I’ve heard Cloud Recesses has quite the library. I guess that’s why.”

“The records are extensive,” Lan Wangji says, hoping he doesn’t sound smug. He has added quite a few unique accounts to the library’s sources.

“Well, I bet the scholars will be thrilled to read about the Serpent of the Abyss.”

Lan Wangji hums to hide his smile. “I am sure they will. Perhaps Wei Ying would like to add an illustration to my account?”

Wei Wuxian barks out a startled laugh. “Did you like my drawing, Lan Zhan?”

“I did. You captured the creature very well.”

“Serpent of the Abyss,” Wei Wuxian insists, jabbing a long forefinger at him. “Make sure you write that down.”

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes but dutifully adds the ridiculous title to the page.

“And did you like the rest of the picture, Lan Zhan?” This time, Wei Wuxian’s voice is lower, almost throaty.

Lan Wangji swallows and keeps his eyes on the page. “I did. Wei Ying is quite skilled.” It was shocking to see himself depicted in such detail, even the cloud insignia on his ribbon. Wei Wuxian must know his face well to have drawn it with such accuracy. Or perhaps Lan Wangji unknowingly served as a model while he slept. It’s difficult to decide which is more thrilling.

“It was difficult,” Wei Wuxian says. “As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make your face pretty enough. I’m afraid I just don’t have the skill to do you justice.”

Lan Wangji looks up, too startled to remember why he shouldn’t. Wei Wuxian gazes back, smiling. Lan Wangji’s ears catch fire, but he can’t look away from that slow curl of lips, from the warmth in Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

The kitchen door opens, and Wen Qing swishes past them on her way outside. Wen Ning kneels down beside the table. “Wei-gongzi, Jie says I can help you with the monster today.”

Wei Wuxian winks at Lan Wangji, then turns to Wen Ning. “Great, we’ll need all the strong bodies we can get. I’m telling you, the Serpent of the Abyss is enormous!”

That afternoon, they set out for the pond with a group of men and all the rope they can find. Wei Wuxian leads the way and enthralls his audience with the tale of the battle. As he talks, Lan Wangji watches him surreptitiously.

Wei Wuxian seems unfazed by yesterday’s . . . events. That should be reassuring, but Lan Wangji cannot help wishing that Wei Wuxian would show some sign that he is affected. It is possible that Wei Wuxian has had other lovers, probable even. That doesn’t bother him. Or it bothers him immensely, but he can overcome his jealousy. What he cannot bear is the uncertainty.

When they pass by the place where he and Wei Wuxian tumbled in the grass, Wei Wuxian turns to him and winks. Lan Wangji flushes and looks away, positive that everyone will somehow know what transpired there yesterday, as if they will read it in the flattened grass.

Finally, they reach the pond. The villagers gather around one of the tentacle pieces now rotting on the bank and stare down in awe. “What is it, Wei-gongzi?” Wen Ning asks.

“And how did it get here?” Feng Yan adds.

“And are there more of these things?” another man asks.

“Those are questions for Hanguang Jun,” Wei Wuxian says. “I just kill stuff.”

Lan Wangji sighs. “We should focus on removing it from the pond before it fouls the water.” It is probably too late to worry about that, but they should limit the damage as much as possible.

“I’ll go,” Wei Wuxian says, already stripping out of his robe.

“Wei Ying—”

“Don’t worry,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning. “I’m a great swimmer. When I was a kid, we spent a whole year traveling the coast, and I swam in the ocean every day. Besides, that thing is dead now, so there’s nothing to be scared of.”

It is silly to be concerned now. It is only that his fear from yesterday has returned, that desperate search in the murky water. He looks away as Wei Wuxian drops his outer robe to the ground.

Although Wei Wuxian succeeds in tying their ropes around the creature’s tail, they are unable to pull it from the water. They surrender with only the end of the tail stretched onto the bank.

“Even if we brought the whole village, we wouldn’t be able to get that thing out,” Feng Yan says. “The size of it!”

“The villagers must be warned that the pond is contaminated,” Lan Wangji says.

“Maybe we can eat it,” Wei Wuxian says as he shrugs back into his robe. “We’d be set for the winter!”

The other men greet this with as much distaste as Lan Wangji does, much to Wei Wuxian’s annoyance.

The formal announcement about the creature is delayed until the next town meeting, though Wei Wuxian argues that word will have surely traveled throughout the whole village by then. Wen Qing says that Wei Wuxian is welcome to handle the announcement himself if he doesn’t like her decision. Wei Wuxian scowls and surrenders.

That night, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian discuss possible methods of removing the serpent from the pond, but the only idea likely to work also involves blowing all of the water out of the pond, which rather defeats the purpose.

Working on problems with Wei Wuxian is always enjoyable, but Lan Wangji is too distracted by the shine of candlelight in Wei Wuxian’s eyes to concentrate on the task. When Wei Wuxian’s suggestions devolve into absurdity, he excuses himself and goes to prepare for bed.

After he has removed his robe and ribbon, he stands at the washstand to comb his hair. Although he keeps his eyes on the rippled mirror, he feels Wei Wuxian watching him.

“Let me help you, Lan Zhan.”

He freezes, the comb clutched in his fist. Wei Wuxian comes to his side and holds out his hand.

Lan Wangji passes him the comb. Wei Wuxian moves behind him and gathers his hair, stroking his hand down the length.

“Your hair is nice,” Wei Wuxian says. “So silky. Mine is never this smooth.”

“You are welcome to borrow the comb.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “Thanks, but it’d probably break in my rat’s nest. It’s such a pretty comb.”

“It was my mother’s.” When he remembers his mother, he usually sees her smiling as she arranges gentians in a vase, but now he envisions a snarling creature wearing her face. Damn this place for ruining what little he has left.

“It’s nice that you have something of hers,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji inclines his head, careful not to pull his hair free from Wei Wuxian’s hands, and does not ask if Wei Wuxian has anything of his mother’s. From what he has seen, Wei Wuxian travels with little other than cultivation tools.

Wei Wuxian works slowly, gently. Sometimes his fingers brush Lan Wangji’s back, and he has to repress a shiver. Wei Wuxian’s fingers are so warm, and Lan Wangji’s night shirt is so thin.

When Wei Wuxian is satisfied with the state of his hair, he lays a hand on Lan Wangji’s shoulder and leans forward to lay the comb on the nightstand. Then Wei Wuxian moves back behind him to bind his hair below his shoulders.

“There,” Wei Wuxian says softly. “All ready for bed.”

But instead of moving away, Wei Wuxian strokes his hands down Lan Wangji’s back. They settle at his waist. His lips press against Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Wei Wuxian murmurs.

Lan Wangji meets his eyes in the mirror, and Wei Wuxian smiles at their reflections. Lan Wangji croaks a yes.

Wei Wuxian hums a happy note against his shoulder and slides his palms around to Lan Wangji’s stomach. More kisses brush his back. “You are too much, Lan Zhan.”

The words startle him, so close to how he chides himself, but Wei Wuxian keeps mouthing at his shirt, his thumbs brushing Lan Wangji’s ribs. “You don’t even know how tempting you are, do you?” Wei Wuxian says. One hand drags up Lan Wangji’s stomach and slips inside his shirt to rest on his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes as Wei Wuxian’s thumb circles his nipple. “Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian sighs. When Wei Wuxian’s fingernails graze his ribs, Lan Wangji jerks and bites his tongue on a grunt.

“Your skin is so soft,” Wei Wuxian croons. His other hand moves down to stroke where Lan Wangji’s cock swells beneath his trousers. “Especially here.”

Lan Wangji groans and turns to him. They meet in a crash, gasping into each other’s mouths. Wei Wuxian rips open the ties of his shirt and runs his hands over Lan Wangji’s chest, his waist, pushes them under his shirt to stroke his back. Lan Wangji endures this agony by removing Wei Wuxian’s robes.

“We have to be quiet,” Wei Wuxian murmurs against his ear. “If Wen Qing hears us, she’ll throw us to the monsters.”

Lan Wangji grasps this concept enough to grunt an acknowledgment, but he’s much more interested in uncovering Wei Wuxian’s skin and sucking new bruises on his throat.

Wei Wuxian moans low and tilts his head as Lan Wangji mouths under his jaw. “I want to suck you,” Wei Wuxian says. “Would you like that?” His hand rubs Lan Wangji’s cock, making his intention clear.

Lan Wangji shudders, his fingers gripping the ties of Wei Wuxian’s robe. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods.

In a daze, he allows Wei Wuxian to lead him to his pallet and lay him down. Wei Wuxian crawls on top of him. “Remember,” Wei Wuxian whispers, “we have to be quiet.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes as Wei Wuxian moves down his body, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. Wei Wuxian’s fingers curl in the waist of his trousers. His thumb strokes a line up and down his cock. “Okay, gege?”

Lan Wangji manages a weak hum and raises his hips so that Wei Wuxian can pull his trousers down his thighs. Hot breath puffs over his cock, then Wei Wuxian’s tongue—

He bucks, biting down on a cry. Wei Wuxian pushes his hips back to the pallet. “Shh, it’s okay.” Lan Wangji dares a look down, sees Wei Wuxian grinning, Lan Wangji’s cock bobbing under his chin, and squinches his eyes shut again.

Wei Wuxian kisses the tip, then licks. Tasting. Playing. Lan Wangji clenches his jaw and curls his fingers in the blanket, anything to keep his body from lurching off the pallet.

“You’re so big, gege,” Wei Wuxian whispers. His fingers wrap around the base of Lan Wangji’s cock and squeeze. “I don’t know if I can fit all of you in my mouth.”

Before that image can take root in Lan Wangji’s brain, Wei Wuxian sucks in the head and flicks his tongue against it. All of Lan Wangji’s breath leaves his body, followed by his capacity for thought.

Wei Wuxian pins Lan Wangji’s hips and bobs his head. He does not, to Lan Wangji’s regret, take all of Lan Wangji’s cock into his mouth, but he certainly makes an effort. Coming would be a mercy, an end to this torment, but when Lan Wangji gets close, Wei Wuxian slows the rhythm and loosens his lips.

“Wei Ying,” he pleads, beyond caring about pride.

“Soon,” Wei Wuxian assures him. “You just feel so good, gege.”

Lan Wangji cranes his neck to pant down at him. Wei Wuxian’s red, swollen lips stretch in a devilish grin. Lan Wangji’s head flops back to the floor.

“You’re doing so well,” Wei Wuxian says, gliding his hand up and down Lan Wangji’s cock. “So good at controlling yourself.”

“Wei Ying, please.”

“Shh,” Wei Wuxian scolds, though Lan Wangji is sure he wasn’t very loud. But he doesn’t protest because Wei Wuxian takes him back in, sucking hard and fast, his fist twisting at the base. The other hand cradles his balls, and finally, Wei Wuxian lets him come.

It strikes him hard, a relief so great it hurts, and when it finally ends, he is limp, as if Wei Wuxian has taken all his strength, swallowed it down along with his come. Because that is what Wei Wuxian did—he let Lan Wangji release in his mouth, down his throat. Wei Wuxian is still licking up and down his cock, cleaning up what must have escaped his mouth.

When Wei Wuxian is satisfied, he crawls back up and nuzzles Lan Wangji’s neck. “How was it, Lan Zhan?”

As if words could describe that. Lan Wangji stares at his bruised lips, the sheen on his chin. And kisses him, licking inside to taste himself on Wei Wuxian’s tongue.

Wei Wuxian moans and opens for his tongue, but then pulls back, flexing his jaw. It must be sore after his efforts. “You were so good,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “You barely made a noise. It’s not that easy for me.”

He swings a leg over Lan Wangji and straddles his stomach. The red robe is tugged off and thrown aside. Then Wei Wuxian opens his pants. “Do you want to touch me, gege?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji hisses. He wants to touch, he wants to look at Wei Wuxian’s bare chest, the flushed tip of his cock. He wants to bite and taste.

Grinning, Wei Wuxian grabs his hand and brings it to his cock. Lan Wangji wraps his fingers around it, lets it slide through his fist as Wei Wuxian thrusts into his grip. “Ah, so good, gege.”

“Quiet,” Lan Wangji murmurs.

“Mm, I know.” Wei Wuxian arches his back, his head lolling. “Told you. Can’t control myself.”

Lan Wangji pulls him down and kisses him, his fist moving faster on Wei Wuxian’s cock, hot and slick and jerking in his grip. Even with his mouth occupied, Wei Wuxian whines and moans, tries to babble with his lower lip trapped between Lan Wangji’s teeth.

Lan Wangji rolls on top of him and claps a hand over Wei Wuxian’s mouth. Wei Wuxian groans and shudders. His hands slap at Lan Wangji’s arms; his feet scrabble on the floor. His hips buck and slam against Lan Wangji’s body.

“Shh.” Lan Wangji smirks down at Wei Wuxian’s flushed face. Revenge is so sweet. He stops stroking to squeeze the base of Wei Wuxian’s cock. “Should I let you come now?”

Wei Wuxian nods frantically and mumbles something against Lan Wangji’s palm.

“But I am enjoying myself.” He glides a slow stroke up to the head and brushes his thumb over the wet tip. “Wei Ying feels so good.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows draw together, and what he mutters next is likely not complimentary.

Lan Wangji bends to graze his teeth over the new marks, red that will deepen to purple, and sucks another over Wei Wuxian’s collarbone. In the morning, he will be able to see it while Wei Wuxian eats breakfast.

As his mouth abuses Wei Wuxian’s skin, he resumes stroking, adjusting the technique as he learns what makes Wei Wuxian’s breath hitch and his cock twitch. The glide is smooth now with the drops he collects from the head and spreads down the shaft. When he settles into short, quick tugs, Wei Wuxian whines and tenses, tipping over the edge.

Lan Wangji watches greedily as Wei Wuxian cries out against his hand and arches up as far as Lan Wangji’s body will allow. His cock stiffens and spurts heat into Lan Wangji’s fist, and Lan Wangji keeps stroking, wringing him dry.

He wipes the mess on his trousers, then licks at the spatters on Wei Wuxian’s belly and chest. Wei Wuxian shivers under his tongue, laughs out his name. He is tugged back up Wei Wuxian’s body and drawn into a messy kiss. They kiss and laugh, remonstrating each other to be quiet, and heat surges in Lan Wangji’s gut, not the flash of fire but a pleasant flush—the warmth of spring sunshine. It is something fresh and extraordinary. It feels like joy.

The next night, Wei Wuxian returns from washing the dishes and immediately pulls him toward the pallets, grinning and glittering with mischief. Lan Wangji pretends to be aggrieved so that Wei Wuxian is not expecting it when Lan Wangji pushes him down and lands on top of him. Wei Wuxian certainly does not expect Lan Wangji to pull down his trousers and lick his cock, and the high yelp Wei Wuxian utters before covering his mouth is almost as gratifying as the first taste of his skin.

As this is first attempt, and because he delights in Wei Wuxian’s torment, Lan Wangji does not rush. He commits himself to excellence. Wei Wuxian whines and babbles, thuds his heels against the floor. When Lan Wangji covers his mouth, Wei Wuxian draws Lan Wangji’s fingers between his lips, sucking and gnawing. Lan Wangji groans around his cock and thrusts his fingers against Wei Wuxian’s tongue.

Wei Wuxian comes with a pitiful moan around his fingers. The experience of swallowing is certainly not elegant, but it is deeply satisfying. Lan Wangji pulls off Wei Wuxian’s cock and comes in his own hand, his grunts muffled against Wei Wuxian’s stomach.

And so it continues for the next two nights. Lan Wangji spends his days dizzied and distracted and his nights in giddy pleasure. Even the creatures whispering outside do not disturb him when he has Wei Wuxian between his thighs, between his jaws.

Tonight, Wei Wuxian smirks down at the picture he is drawing, his toes rubbing Lan Wangji’s leg under the table. Lan Wangji placidly reads a book and remembers to turn the pages occasionally to sell the pretense that he is paying attention to the words. Anticipation is part of the fun, as he is rapidly learning. For now, he will let that anticipation build. The more unaffected Lan Wangji appears, the more determined Wei Wuxian will become.

So he will let Wei Wuxian come to him. Provided that he doesn’t take too long.

After Wei Wuxian finishes the drawing, he gets up to rummage around in his bag. Lan Wangji pretends not to care about what Wei Wuxian has drawn. From the glances he’s already stolen, he knows it is another portrait of him.

He also pretends not to notice that Wei Wuxian is undressing.

Wei Wuxian returns to the table in his red robe and sets a jar in front of Lan Wangji. Then he picks up the drawing and lays it on top of the page Lan Wangji is not reading.

Obligingly, Lan Wangji looks at the portrait. Wei Wuxian has drawn the view from across the table: Lan Wangji reading the book. It is quite skilled, though certainly not as vibrant as the one with the monster.

“Who is the subject?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian huffs and jerks both the drawing and the book from Lan Wangji’s hands. “So cruel to me, gege.” Then Wei Wuxian straddles him and loops his arms around Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

Lan Wangji lays his hands on Wei Wuxian’s waist. “Forgive me. How can I make amends?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Wei Wuxian twists to pick up the jar and waggles it in Lan Wangji’s face. “Do you know what this is?”

“A jar.”

Wei Wuxian snakes forward and nips Lan Wangji’s ear. “This is what you’re going to use to fuck me.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers dig into his hips. The idea has loomed large in his mind, of course, but he hadn’t expected the topic to be broached so bluntly.

Wei Wuxian laughs and shimmies in his lap. “Do you like my proposal, Lan Zhan?”

He hisses and pulls Wei Wuxian tighter against him. “You will make too much noise.”

“Mm, maybe. If you do it well, I will make a lot of noise.”

Lan Wangji drags him down and kisses his smirk. “If this is what Wei Ying desires, then I will do my best.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and starts undressing him. Lan Wangji allows this with only mild interference in the form of kissing and groping. When his robes are removed, he captures Wei Wuxian’s roaming hands and pins them to his chest.

“Do you have a talisman that can muffle this room?” Lan Wangji asks.

“What?”

Lan Wangji shifts his eyes to the door leading to the kitchen. “You will make too much noise.” For this, Lan Wangji does not want to stifle Wei Wuxian’s cries, nor does he want to be distracted by worries about being overheard.

“Now you bring this up?” Wei Wuxian pouts and wiggles. “Yeah, I can make one, but do you really want to stop now and—”

Lan Wangji lifts Wei Wuxian out of his lap and deposits him on the floor. “Make one. Now.”

Wei Wuxian glares. Lan Wangji stares back.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian huffs. He shuffles on his knees to the table and grabs the brush and ink he used to draw the portrait.

Lan Wangji watches him work for a few moments. Anticipation is a fine thing. So is torturing Wei Wuxian. However, the waiting might destroy him.

He presses against Wei Wuxian’s back. Chuckling, Wei Wuxian peeks over his shoulder. “Don’t distract me, gege. I’d hate to have to start over.”

“Then do it right.” Lan Wangji slides an arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist and grinds his cock against Wei Wuxian’s ass.

Wei Wuxian curses and drops the brush. It nearly rolls off the table before he snatches it up.

“Focus,” Lan Wangji chides.

“You are a monster,” Wei Wuxian hisses.

Lan Wangji unties the red robe. He slips it from Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, brushing his lips over the warm skin he bares and leaving the robe tangled around Wei Wuxian’s elbows.

“I need my arm, you know,” Wei Wuxian grumbles.

Lan Wangji pulls the robe off and tosses it aside. Then he grabs Wei Wuxian’s right wrist and pushes forward, slamming Wei Wuxian’s hand on the table and pinning it there. This gives him perfect leverage to rock against Wei Wuxian’s ass.

“Oh fuck,” Wei Wuxian whimpers, pressing back against him as far as Lan Wangji will allow.

“Quiet,” Lan Wangji says. “You have not finished.” He releases Wei Wuxian’s wrist and sits back.

“Oh, I’m gonna finish,” Wei Wuxian mutters. He grabs the brush and slashes it across the paper.

“No mistakes,” Lan Wangji warns as he picks up the jar. Wei Wuxian pauses to watch him open it, red-cheeked and slack-jawed.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian scowls and turns back to the table.

The jar contains oil that smells faintly of lotus flowers. It is clear what he is meant to do with it, but he hesitates. Once begun, it will be difficult to restrain himself, of that he is positive. Even the thought—

“You have to use your fingers first,” Wei Wuxian says, watching him over his shoulder. His eyes are large and dark. The flush spreads down his throat.

“I understand,” Lan Wangji says. “However, I have not attempted this before.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured. I’ve, uh, only done it once. That guy wasn’t as . . .” Wei Wuxian’s eyes flick down to Lan Wangji’s trousers. “. . . fortunate as you.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji sets the jar back on the table and crowds back against Wei Wuxian’s back. The less he hears about this other man, the better. “Are you almost finished?” he asks as he strokes Wei Wuxian’s stomach.

“Uh, yeah. But . . .”

“But what?”

Wei Wuxian sighs and sets the completed talisman aside. “But I need four for the spell to be effective. One for each wall.”

Lan Wangji almost groans. “Then make them.”

Wei Wuxian does groan and slumps over the table. “Lan Zhan.”

“Make them.” Lan Wangji nips his shoulder and starts opening Wei Wuxian’s trousers. Growling, Wei Wuxian reaches for another piece of talisman paper.

After some wiggling and many muttered threats from Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji pushes the trousers to his thighs. Wei Wuxian’s ass flexes and jiggles as he moves the brush quickly over the paper. Lan Wangji watches it for several thudding heartbeats, transfixed.

“Did you fall asleep back there?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji grips a handful of flesh and squeezes. Wei Wuxian yelps and lurches forward, but Lan Wangji drags him back with the arm locked around his waist. That pulls Wei Wuxian into his lap, and he can’t help thrusting against the bare skin.

“Oh shit,” Wei Wuxian gasps, rocking down to meet him.

Even just this is almost too much. Gritting his teeth, Lan Wangji lays a hand across Wei Wuxian’s back and pushes him forward. “Finish.”

“Fucker,” Wei Wuxian hisses, and goes back to drawing.

Lan Wangji picks up the jar with trembling hands and dips two fingers inside. “Quiet,” he murmurs, and circles the slick fingers around Wei Wuxian’s hole.

The reaction is immediate and delightful: Wei Wuxian whines and shudders, his head dropping almost to the table. Emboldened, Lan Wangji slips one fingertip inside. “Keep going,” Lan Wangji says as Wei Wuxian groans. “You have not even finished the second talisman.”

“You could help me,” Wei Wuxian grumbles.

Wei Wuxian tries to rock back to take more of his finger, but Lan Wangji withdraws completely. “I am busy. Finish the second.”

Muttering, Wei Wuxian draws the last lines and slaps the second talisman down on the first. As he reaches for more talisman paper, Lan Wangji thrusts his finger in to the second knuckle. Wei Wuxian’s hand spasms and crumples the paper.

Lan Wangji smirks as he slowly rocks his finger in and out. “Take care not to ruin the paper.”

“Hnrgh,” Wei Wuxian replies and tosses the wadded-up paper over his shoulder. It strikes Lan Wangji’s cheek, but he only smirks harder.

By the time Wei Wuxian finishes the third talisman, Lan Wangji is fucking him with two fingers, the grip deliciously tight, and Wei Wuxian is steadily gasping, his left hand gripping the edge of the table.

The third talisman lands on the stack, and Lan Wangji rewards Wei Wuxian by adding a third finger.

Whining, Wei Wuxian sags over the table and tries to spread his legs farther, but his bunched trousers prevent that.

“Only one to go,” Lan Wangji says. “Wei Ying is doing well.”

Wei Wuxian makes a pitiful sound and pitches forward to lay his forehead on the table. His hand fumbles across the table until it snags a piece of paper and drags it back. He braces himself on his elbow and starts drawing the last talisman.

Lan Wangji bends over him, mouthing at his shoulder and thrusting his fingers deep. Wei Wuxian moans to the rhythm of the slow fuck, opening to him so prettily. “Wei Ying is so good,” Lan Wangji whispers, too frantic to stop the words from tumbling out. His other hand covers Wei Wuxian’s cock, and Wei Wuxian whimpers, jerking against him. “So good for me, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches. “Ah, almost done. Lan Zhan.”

“Good.” Lan Wangji sucks a mark on his throat and fucks him faster. “So good, Wei Ying.”

When Wei Wuxian begins the last character, Lan Wangji pulls his fingers free and shoves down his trousers.

Wei Wuxian finishes the last stroke and throws down the brush.

Lan Wangji slicks his cock as Wei Wuxian snatches up the other three talismans. He pushes against Wei Wuxian as he begins casting the spell.

He rubs the head of his cock against Wei Wuxian’s twitching hole. “Wei Ying, now.”

Wei Wuxian’s arms fly out to the sides, and the four talismans shoot towards their targets. As the spell ignites, Lan Wangji thrusts inside.

Wei Wuxian shouts and jolts, but Lan Wangji drags him back, pulls Wei Wuxian down on his cock, pushing past the resistance, pushing until Wei Wuxian’s body draws him in and clamps tight around him.

“Oh fuck,” Wei Wuxian whimpers, his fingers scrabbling at Lan Wangji’s arms. “Fuck, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t bother to ask if the spell is working. Wei Wuxian’s spell wouldn’t fail, and even if it did, he would not care. He holds Wei Wuxian tight and fucks into him slowly, clenching his jaw at the heat, at the vicious pleasure of being allowed to take.

Keening, Wei Wuxian sags against him, spreads his thighs as much as he can and takes what Lan Wangji gives him. Lan Wangji opens his jaws on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and drags his nails up Wei Wuxian’s bare thigh as he thrusts up harder, faster. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whimpers, and drops his head back on Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

He likes that: Lan Zhan, not gege. He likes that Wei Wuxian knows who is fucking him, that he is not just some gege in Wei Wuxian’s bed.

Lan Wangji slams Wei Wuxian down on the table, jerks Wei Wuxian’s hips up, and thrusts back in. Wei Wuxian opens to him, and he slides in until his hips press against Wei Wuxian’s ass. Wei Wuxian moans and writhes, but Lan Wangji presses him flat with a hand splayed on his back.

The table screeches across the floor as Lan Wangji fucks him. Brushes and cups roll off the table, but Lan Wangji pays them no mind. He bends over Wei Wuxian’s back and snaps his hips in short thrusts, until Wei Wuxian pleads and curses, his fingers flexing across the table.

“So good for me, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji pants into Wei Wuxian’s ear. He runs a hand down Wei Wuxian’s arm, stroking the tight muscles, and pins Wei Wuxian’s wrist to the table. “So good.”

“Gege,” Wei Wuxian moans.

Lan Wangji bites his shoulder and rolls his hips. “I have a name.”

Hissing, Wei Wuxian pushes back against him. “Lan Zhan! Fuck, like that, Lan Zhan.”

“Good,” Lan Wangji grunts and kisses the bite mark he just made. He grips Wei Wuxian’s hip tighter, squeezes his wrist, and Wei Wuxian shudders, gasping out unintelligible words. In moments, Wei Wuxian clenches hard on his cock and comes with a wail.

Lan Wangji is dragged along with him, grunting and gnawing Wei Wuxian’s skin. His hips roll, chasing the last of the pleasure as he licks at the sweat on Wei Wuxian’s throat.

Wei Wuxian has collapsed on the table, his head turned aside, eyes closed and mouth slack. Lan Wangji hums bliss against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, strokes his arms. Wei Wuxian sighs and mumbles happily, like he’s planning to sleep on the table again with Lan Wangji’s cock still inside him.

Although that is tempting, Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxian’s shoulder one more kiss and extricates himself from their tangle. Wei Wuxian grunts when he pulls out but doesn’t lift his head.

As Lan Wangji heads to the washstand, Wei Wuxian says, “You’re gonna have to clean the table.”

Oh. That will be unpleasant. “Why must it be me?” Lan Wangji asks as he washes himself.

“You know what you did, Lan Zhan. Take responsibility.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, but Wei Wuxian pouts miserably. He does look rather pathetic slumped over the table with his trousers down. “Fine.”

He goes back to the table and scoops Wei Wuxian into his arms. Wei Wuxian yelps, then giggles as Lan Wangji carries him to his pallet and lays him down. Then he brings the washbowl to Wei Wuxian and starts wiping him off.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian laughs, squirming as the cloth scrubs his belly. “Am I a child? I can wash myself.”

“I am taking responsibility,” Lan Wangji says firmly and strokes the cloth between Wei Wuxian’s legs.

Wei Wuxian groans something and covers his red cheeks with his hands, but he lets Lan Wangji clean him.

After Lan Wangji sets the table to rights, he extinguishes the lanterns and returns to the pallets. Wei Wuxian is already under the blanket, and he shifts onto his side when Lan Wangji lies down. “Did the jar survive?” Wei Wuxian asks, his voice low and sleepy.

Lan Wangji turns toward him, searching for the glint of his eyes in the firelight. “Mn.”

“Good,” Wei Wuxian says, the word stretched by his yawn. “That’s all the oil I’ve got. It’ll be hard to find more around here.”

Lan Wangji hums acknowledgment, his mind already searching for other possibilities. Perhaps his sword oil?

“Good night, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji smiles, knowing it will be hidden by the darkness. “Sleep well, Wei Ying.”

While Lan Wangji is helping Wen Yasheng and A-Yuan carry their laundry home the next day, Wei Wuxian trots to his side. “Lan Zhan, I had an idea about our friend in the pond.”

Before Lan Wangji can respond, A-Yuan attaches himself to Wei Wuxian’s leg. “Wei-gongzi, let’s fly!”

“Not just now, my king,” Wei Wuxian says, tousling the boy’s hair. “I need to borrow Handsome-gege for a bit, okay?”

A-Yuan’s face crumples, but Lan Wangji bows to him. “Apologies, my king. I will take you flying tomorrow.”

“Really high?” A-Yuan asks.

“Really high,” Lan Wangji agrees.

After he sets the basket down in Wen Yasheng’s house, he follows Wei Wuxian into the woods. “So,” Wei Wuxian says as they walk, “I got the idea the other day when I saw He Minhui mending her fishing net, but I’ve been working out how to make something bigger and stronger.”

“A net?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds, but just hear me out.”

Lan Wangji listens to his plan, veering between skepticism and wonderment at Wei Wuxian’s unique and absurd genius. Wei Wuxian is still chattering when they reach the pond, but Lan Wangji halts and frowns.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks, following his gaze.

“The tentacles are gone.”

They walk closer, surveying the bank. Not only are the tentacles gone, but the tail they pulled onto shore is also missing.

“Huh,” Wei Wuxian says, flicking his nose. “Maybe animals got them?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. They have seen no predators larger than a fox in these woods. No fox could have dragged away all of the tentacles, much less moved that large tail.

Regardless, they search the bank for signs that animals have scavenged the tentacles, but even Wei Wuxian’s superior tracking skills can find no trace.

“I’m going in,” Wei Wuxian says, unbuckling his belt.

“I will also go,” Lan Wangji says. He has no intention of letting Wei Wuxian return to that water alone.

Once they dive under, they immediately discover that the creature is no longer in the water, but since that is impossible, they swim around the circumference of the pond, as if the enormous creature might somehow be hidden in the mud.

They breach the surface together. “How is it just gone?” Wei Wuxian gasps. “Is there a dragon around here, too? Because nothing smaller than that could’ve dragged that thing out of the water.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head and starts swimming for the shore. When they reach the bank, Lan Wangji folds onto the grass and stares at the pond that should contain a dead Serpent of the Abyss.

Wei Wuxian flops down beside him and joins him in contemplating the pond. After quite a lot of silent confusion, Wei Wuxian says, “Do you think . . .?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “You said the creatures do not eat animals.”

“But was that thing actually an animal? Maybe it was different somehow.”

“If the creatures took it, there would be signs.” What the creatures left behind in Song Quan’s house was ghastly. If they ate the serpent, they would not do so tidily.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “Yeah, it’s too clean to be them. But what else could it be?”

“Has anything like this happened before?”

Wei Wuxian turns to him and scowls. “Like this?”

Lan Wangji lifts an eyebrow—Wei Wuxian knows what he means.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Yes, that gesture says, I know what you’re getting at. I just enjoy being difficult. “No, things don’t usually mysteriously disappear.” Wei Wuxian jumps up and grabs his dizi, twirling it as he paces the shore. “Well, there was one thing.”

“What thing?” Lan Wangji asks, quite patiently.

“It wasn’t anything like this.” Wei Wuxian paces faster, the dizi a black blur. “It’s the chickens.”

Lan Wangji waits very patiently for more, but Wei Wuxian seems entranced by the water. “The chickens?”

“It was before I got here, but I’ve heard the story several times. Back when everybody was still hiding at night, they found a dozen chickens in the forest. Hong Luo says the chickens didn’t even run, like they were used to people. Lucky, right? Hong Luo always says it was a gift from the gods.”

“It was fortunate,” Lan Wangji agrees, confused at the connection.

“But what if it was?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Was what?”

Wei Wuxian finally turns to him. He almost looks afraid. “A gift from the gods.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji stands and goes to him. “What do you mean?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and bites his lip. “I know, but Lan Zhan, how else can you explain that monster just disappearing?”

“I do not know, but—”

“It could be worse!” Wei Wuxian blurts. “That’s what the people here say every day. Yes, this place is terrible, but ‘it could be worse.’ Do you know why?”

“The talismans. You have protected them.”

“No!” Wei Wuxian throws out his arms and starts pacing again. “Well, yes, but that isn’t it. They say that because we have enough to eat. Because we’ve got shelter—just enough shelter, actually. Sure, we’re a little cramped, but no worse than a lot of villages. We’ve got enough to survive.”

Wei Wuxian stops pacing and stares at the pond, the dizi trembling in his fist. “Because they want us to survive. At least long enough to be eaten.”

Dread churns in Lan Wangji’s gut, but what Wei Wuxian says is logical. Wei Wuxian pointed out as much after Lan Wangji first arrived. Here, they are livestock for the creatures. But if Wei Wuxian is correct in this, the creatures cannot be alone.

“There is something else,” Lan Wangji mutters, and Wei Wuxian turns to him. “There must be something else managing the situation. Someone.”

Wei Wuxian nods shakily. “I’ve always thought . . . the mist, the spell that keeps us here. They don’t fit, not with those monsters. All they do is eat. What could they know about spell-work? They haven’t even figured out a way past my talismans.”

They are powerful talismans, Lan Wangji thinks reflexively, but Wei Wuxian is right. Something that could trap them here and create barriers like that mist could very well have disrupted the talismans, yet the creatures don’t even seem capable of trying.

“If there is . . . someone,” Lan Wangji says, feeling his way around the issue as he speaks, “then perhaps they have trapped the creatures here as well, as we thought.”

“It’s a pen for all of us,” Wei Wuxian says, laughing humorlessly. “Somebody threw the foxes in the chicken coop. And when the chickens die, they just throw in more chickens. Fuck!”

Wei Wuxian starts pacing again, but Lan Wangji watches the sun dancing in the rippling water. A good caretaker must keep the chickens fed. If a snake gets in the pen, the caretaker tosses it out. His hand squeezes Bichen’s hilt, his breath coming quick as a terrifying question hits him: what must this caretaker think about Wei Wuxian disrupting their design?

Chapter Text

That night, Wei Wuxian paces the temple, wine jug in one hand and the dizi in the other, occasionally blurting out half-finished statements that Lan Wangji struggles to follow. Eventually, Lan Wangji ceases trying to speak with him and plays Clarity on the guqin. It does little to soothe Wei Wuxian.

When Lan Wangji wakes the next morning, he discovers that Wei Wuxian has fallen asleep at the table—for the first time in a long while. Since the Serpent of the Abyss. Whatever else their nightly activities may mean, it has been remarkably effective at helping Wei Wuxian sleep. But now he sprawls over the table once again. The wine jug is overturned next to his hand, but there was no wine left inside to spill onto the table. That is fortunate, because beneath Wei Wuxian’s cheek is a drawing. Half of it is hidden, but even what Lan Wangji can see is beautiful: tall ocean waves crashing against a rocky shore.

Carefully, Lan Wangji slides the drawing free and examines it. The moonlight sparkles in the waves, and the stars shine so bright they almost shimmer on the page. On a bluff in the distance, a tiny figure sits as if meditating. Baoshan Sanren, perhaps.

A memory, then. Beauty and freedom—both are so lacking here. One as alive and adventurous as Wei Wuxian must feel that keenly. He must long for more, for any taste of life. Perhaps that is what Wei Wuxian seeks in him—the shadow of what he once had.

Lan Wangji places the drawing back on the table and goes to dress. Even if that is true, he knows he will not stop taking whatever Wei Wuxian offers. If Wei Wuxian should cease to want him, he could accept that, but he will make it last as long as he can.

As Wei Wuxian shows no sign of waking, Lan Wangji leaves the temple after breakfast. He has a promise to keep, after all.

He is flying over the rooftops with A-Yuan in his arms and crows voicing their displeasure at having their sky invaded when Wei Wuxian calls up to them. They descend, and he sets a squirming A-Yuan down so that he can cling to Wei Wuxian’s leg.

“Wei-gege, we flew really high!”

“I saw that,” Wei Wuxian says, smoothing down the boy’s hair. To Lan Wangji, he says, “Wen Qing wants us in the infirmary.”

Lan Wangji nods, and they leave A-Yuan with his grandmother to head to the infirmary. “Has someone been injured?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Worse. She called a meeting.”

When they enter the infirmary, they find the other attendants waiting: Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Feng Yan, and Hao-laoshi.

“Thank you all for coming,” Wen Qing says. “Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian nods and takes a deep breath. “The serpent is no longer in the pond.”

“How did you get it out?” Feng Yan asks.

“We didn’t. It’s just gone.”

“What?” Feng Yan gapes at them like he thinks they are joking. “How?”

“We do not know,” Lan Wangji says.

“We should still warn everyone to avoid the pond,” Wen Qing says. “The water could be toxic. And other people saw the serpent. It would be best if they don’t find out—”

“But it was huge!” Feng Yan exclaims. He turns to Hao-laoshi and spreads his arms wide. “That beast wouldn’t fit in this building. How could it just disappear?”

“Someone, or something, removed it,” Wen Qing says. “That is all we know.”

“It’s bad enough that a giant snake appeared out of nowhere,” Wei Wuxian says. “If people find out that it just vanished, there could be a panic.”

“But isn’t it good that it’s gone?” Wen Ning asks. “Doesn’t that mean someone is helping us?”

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji share a glance, but it’s Feng Yan who responds: “If someone wants to help us, then why aren’t they getting us the hell out of here?”

And why did they allow the serpent inside the barrier in the first place? Lan Wangji wonders. Perhaps their “caretaker” is negligent as well as cruel.

“I will keep the children away,” Hao-laoshi says. “As for the others—I believe word has already spread about the serpent. I doubt there is anything we could say to prevent people from going to the pond to have a look.”

Wen Qing sighs. “Then we lie. We say that Wei Wuxian and Hanguang Jun removed it from the pond.”

Lan Wangji stiffens, but Wei Wuxian bumps Lan Wangji’s arm. “You don’t have to lie. If anybody asks how we did it, just say that it was taken care of. They’ll buy that better than some tall tale anyway.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head. It still feels dishonest, but spreading wild theories would be more pernicious. If others think as Wen Ning does, then they might come to believe there is a savior coming to rescue them. Whatever hope that idea created could only lead to more despair when the savior doesn’t arrive.

The meeting to discuss the serpent occurs at the teahouse the following afternoon. By then, Wei Wuxian has returned to good spirits, or at least the semblance of them.

After a short report about village business, Wen Qing cedes the dais to Wei Wuxian. “As you’ve probably heard,” Wei Wuxian says, “Hanguang Jun and I defeated a creature in the pond. We’ve removed it, but Wen-daifu wants everyone to avoid the pond for the time being. Unless you want to drink rotting snake water.”

“How did you get it out?” a man shouts. He is one of the people who accompanied them to the pond.

“Magic,” Wei Wuxian says, and winks.

There are some chuckles and many murmurs. The man who shouted turns to the man next to him and speaks quickly, shaking his head. Wei Wuxian peeks over his shoulder at Lan Wangji and smiles ruefully.

More people shout questions, and Wei Wuxian deflects them with charm and vague assurances. During this part, it is Lan Wangji’s job to stand behind him looking “confident and handsome.” He does his best.

Finally, Wei Wuxian waves off the petitioners and ends the meeting—the business portion, anyway. Lan Wangji leaves the dais and heads for the seat waiting by Wen Ning and He Minhui, but he is mobbed before he can reach it.

“Hanguang Jun, how did you really do it?”

“Hanguang Jun, will there be more of those monsters?”

“Hanguang Jun, are you sure it was really dead?”

Thankfully, A-Yuan rescues him by weaving through the crowd and tugging on his robe.

“Excuse me,” Lan Wangji says, and lifts the boy onto his hip. The petitioners grumble but part to let him carry A-Yuan to the table.

Wei Wuxian joins them soon after, and Lan Wangji surrenders his plate to A-Yuan and Wei Wuxian, who both seem to prefer food when it belongs to Lan Wangji. The entertainment is brief today—only Bai Juyi and a few others perform. Most of the villagers are more interested in discussing snakes than watching the dais.

After Wen Yasheng has taken A-Yuan home, Wei Wuxian taps Lan Wangji’s arm and stands up. Lan Wangji follows him out of the teahouse without being accosted again. When they reach the temple, Wei Wuxian leads him around to the grass behind it and spreads out on his back.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian sighs and gazes up at the sky. “I miss the stars.”

After a brief hesitation, Lan Wangji lies down beside him. The sky is still bright, brushed with clouds. These clouds seem so thin and meager compared to those that shroud his home. He misses the mountains, the wild beauty of the land and the serenity of the architecture.

“I rarely stay in one place this long,” Wei Wuxian continues, his voice soft, like he’s sharing a secret. “When I was growing up, Shifu took us traveling most of the year. And since I left her, I’ve been on the move almost constantly.”

“Do you enjoy traveling?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Yeah. I like meeting new people, exploring new places. And moving on when the urge strikes me.” Wei Wuxian drops his head to the side. “What about you?”

Lan Wangji stares up at the clouds and finds that he doesn’t know. He travels often on night hunts, but he has never considered whether he actually enjoys traveling. It is often a relief to return home, but sometimes it is good to leave, to be alone. To be free.

“Yes,” he says finally. “Though I do not usually enjoy meeting people.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles and folds his hands behind his head. “I figured that.” His boot knocks against Lan Wangji’s. “Until you met me, anyway.”

Lan Wangji smirks. “You are fortunate that I cannot escape you.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, long and delighted. “So cruel to me, gege.”

“Is that why you like to sleep on roofs?” Lan Wangji asks when Wei Wuxian’s laughter tapers off.

“Huh?”

“Because of the stars.”

“Oh. Yeah, I like sleeping under the stars. And the moon! I really miss the moon. Sometimes, when the moon was full, I’d find the tallest building and sleep on its roof. It felt like I could just reach up and touch it.”

“My brother and I used to watch for falling stars.”

“You must miss him. Are you two close?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji croaks, his throat tight. “I miss him.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers twine with his, and Lan Wangji turns to him. Wei Wuxian smiles. “You’ll see him again. I promise.”

Lan Wangji smiles back and squeezes his hand. “And you will sleep under the stars again.”

Wei Wuxian pushes up and leans over him. “And will you join me then?” He grins, his fingers toying with Lan Wangji’s robe. “Will you lie on the roof with me and . . . admire the moon?”

“I promise.” He stretches up to meet Wei Wuxian’s kiss. It is the first time they’ve spoken of after, of what will happen when they are free to go their own way. It is the first indication Wei Wuxian has given that he wants Lan Wangji to be part of his future. For now, that is more than enough.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are replacing talismans around the village, though Lan Wangji isn’t sure why both of them are necessary for such a simple task when so many other things need doing. When he asks about this, Wei Wuxian pokes him with the dizi and says, “People are less likely to nag me with you looming behind me.”

This does not seem entirely complimentary, but it is true that Wei Wuxian is more often the target for the villagers’ complaints.

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. “And if I did not accompany you, you would have no one to poke.”

“Exactly.” Wei Wuxian grins and nudges Lan Wangji’s ribs with the dizi. Lan Wangji sighs and resists the urge to snap the dizi in half.

Their last stop is Zhi Xia’s house on the edge of the village. Thankfully, Wei Wuxian does not suggest that they call on her. As they return to the road, they see Hao-laoshi and her students walking towards the village. With them are two goats.

“Where did those come from?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“We found them in the woods!” A-Yuan shouts, patting one of the goats.

Wei Wuxian strolls over to inspect the goats and tease the three children. They look delighted with their discovery, but Hao-laoshi’s face is pinched. She edges toward Lan Wangji and whispers, “Hanguang Jun, you should check the woods.”

“What did you find?”

“Just the goats, but—” Hao-laoshi cuts her eyes toward the children. “They couldn't have arrived here alone.”

While the children are occupied with the goats, Wei Wuxian joins them. “Did you see anything else?” Wei Wuxian asks Hao-laoshi.

She shakes her head. “Give me a moment and I’ll take you there.”

While Hao-laoshi tells the two girls to take A-Yuan to his grandmother, Lan Wangji examines the goats. To him, they look no different from the ones Hong Luo keeps. “You are sure the goats did not escape from the village?” he asks Wei Wuxian.

“If Hong Luo’s goats were missing, we’d definitely have heard about it already.”

When the children and goats are gone, Hao-laoshi leads them into the woods. “We were hunting mushrooms,” she says as they walk. “The goats were tied to a tree. I didn’t see anything else, but I wanted to get the children out of there.”

“Good thinking,” Wei Wuxian says.

They crest a hill, and Hao-laoshi points to a pine tree by the creek. “They were tied to that tree.”

“Thanks,” Wei Wuxian says. “Will you go tell Hong Luo that he has two new charges?”

“Of course.” She lifts her skirts and hurries back down the hill, clearly eager to be away.

Once she is gone, Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian. “Another ‘gift from the gods’?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Maybe.”

Wei Wuxian clearly has a different theory, but Lan Wangji does not press him. They explore the area around the pine tree, then continue down the hill. The hill ends in a narrow ravine, bordered by steep slopes on both sides. They separate and walk in opposite directions along the ravine floor. Even though they have had no rain in days, the ground is still soggy.

Lan Wangji has not gone far when Wei Wuxian’s yell draws him back. He runs along the ravine and passes a wicker basket and a bamboo hat before he reaches Wei Wuxian. What is left of the goats’ owner lies at his feet.

“He’s been here awhile,” Wei Wuxian says as Lan Wangji crouches to examine the remains.

“Mn.” The man was clearly killed by the creatures, but normal predators have also been near: a crow’s feather lies inside the corpse’s cracked ribcage.

Wei Wuxian retrieves the wicker basket and grimaces when he lifts the lid. He overturns the basket, and rotten vegetables spill onto the ground. “Definitely been here awhile,” Wei Wuxian mutters as he slings the empty basket over his shoulder. Gruesome but practical.

“Let’s grab a cart,” Wei Wuxian says. “It’s too far to carry a coffin, especially up that hill.”

As they walk back to the village, Lan Wangji asks, “Did he arrive too late to reach the village?”

“Could be.” Wei Wuxian twirls the dizi and tries to pretend that he is not disturbed, that his mind is not whirring around the puzzle.

“But that is not what you think happened.”

Wei Wuxian snorts and tucks the dizi behind his back. “Well, Hanguang Jun, what do you think happened to our poor goatherder?”

Lan Wangji frowns and considers the problem. “He could have lost his way.”

“It’s possible,” Wei Wuxian agrees with a tone that suggests Lan Wangji’s answer doesn’t impress him.

It is unlikely. To become lost, the man must have left the road, and why would he do so? Unless—

“The storm,” Lan Wangji blurts. “If he arrived on the day of the storm, he might have become disoriented and wandered off the road.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “Or he might have left the road to find shelter for himself and his goats and couldn’t find his way back.”

“The slope would have been slick,” Lan Wangji adds. “And the ravine was likely flooded. He probably could not climb back up. He might even have fallen into the ravine and injured himself.”

“Good point,” Wei Wuxian says, but he still seems distracted by whatever goes on in his brilliant mind.

Lan Wangji reviews their points, remembering the day of the storm. What he recalls most clearly is Wei Wuxian flying amidst flashes of lightning, endangering himself to protect Wen Ning’s uncle. Later, Wei Wuxian admitted his fear and the strange feeling he experienced in the sky.

“Malicious,” Lan Wangji mutters, remembering the word Wei Wuxian used. Then louder: “You said the storm felt ‘malicious.’”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “It was just a feeling. We don’t even know what day this guy arrived. It might not have anything to do with the storm.”

But the storm must have prevented the man from entering the village. Nothing else makes sense when the road only leads to one destination. And if they are correct about the caretaker theory, it is only logical that the storm was meant to prevent the man from reaching safety. The storm knocked down a house, but the traveler was its real target. The caretaker has to make sure that all his charges are fed.

They continue on, but when they reach the road, Lan Wangji pauses and looks towards the invisible barrier. “We should post warnings.”

“You mean like DO NOT ENTER, BEWARE OF MONSTERS?” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I guess that could work.”

“We could say there is plague.” Even a lie seems righteous if it prevents people from becoming trapped here.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. But it’s possible that if someone gets close enough to read the sign, then they’ve already come too far.”

“It is worth trying,” Lan Wangji insists.

“It is.” Wei Wuxian smiles and bumps his arm. “Now let’s go. I’d like to bury this guy before nightfall.”

Aside from the crows, the goatherder’s funeral is sparsely attended. Lan Wangji cannot judge the villagers for that. The sun is setting as they lay him to rest, and the man was a stranger. The villagers cannot be blamed for being more interested in the new goats than in their unfortunate owner. But it disturbs him that they could not even write the man’s name on his tablet.

After the short ceremony, Wen Ning rings the warning bell as they hurry back to the temple. Lan Wangji bathes, then eats the meal Duan Yiran sent from the teahouse. Wei Wuxian returns from his own bath while Lan Wangji plays Rest for the goatherder. If any scrap of his soul remains, it deserves to be soothed.

Wei Wuxian joins him on the dizi, and Lan Wangji looks up, surprised. Although Wei Wuxian toys with the dizi almost constantly, Lan Wangji has never heard him play it unless he was driving away the creatures. Yet Wei Wuxian plays Rest, which he has only heard once, with great skill and accuracy.

Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows: you don’t mind, do you?

Lan Wangji inclines his head to give permission, and Wei Wuxian smiles without missing a note.

“You play well,” Lan Wangji says when the song is finished.

“Thanks.” Wei Wuxian gives the dizi a twirl, then sets it down. “I used to love playing.”

“No longer?” Lan Wangji asks softly.

Wei Wuxian shrugs and avoids his eyes. “It’s just different now.”

Lan Wangji busies himself with putting away the guqin, reluctant to press but desperate to know. Wei Wuxian stays quiet and stares down into his wine.

The quiet persists as Lan Wangji takes out his journal to record the day’s events. However, he cannot focus on the corpse when his thoughts are so occupied by the man across the table.

He sets down the brush and closes the book. “Will you tell me about the Burial Mounds?”

Wei Wuxian startles and almost drops the cup. “What?”

“Forgive me, I should not have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.” Wei Wuxian pours more wine and drinks it in long swallows. He wipes his mouth and fills the cup again. “What do you want to know?”

What Lan Wangji wants to know is how he learned demonic cultivation, but Wei Wuxian dislikes discussing that. “You said that you went there while you were hunting someone. What did this man do?”

“Xue Yang,” Wei Wuxian says, his fingers tapping a fast rhythm on his cup. “He killed my shige.”

Lan Wangji ducks his head. He assumed it would be a dark tale, but he hadn’t realized—“I am sorry for your loss.”

Wei Wuxian drains the cup, then abandons it to drink from the jug. “Xue Yang. Such a terrible little shit. In a fair fight, Shige would’ve cut him in two, but Xue Yang is a sneaky bastard.”

“The blindfolded man. He was your shige?”

“Yeah. Xiao Xingchen.”

“Xiao Xingchen?” Lan Wangji asks. “The bright moon and gentle breeze?”

Wei Wuxian smiles dimly. “I take it you’ve heard of him?”

“Of course. I have never met him, but he is known to be honorable and capable.”

“That he was.” Wei Wuxian sighs and scoots off the cushion to lean against the wall.

“I apologize. We do not have to speak of it.”

Wei Wuxian waves him off and tilts his head back against the wall. “I don’t mind telling you. It just isn’t a pretty story.”

“The true ones rarely are.”

Wei Wuxian quirks a smile. “Hanguang Jun is wise.” He drinks from the jug, then says, “Shifu has a rule: any disciple who wishes to leave may do so, but once they go, they may never return. Xingchen was a few years older than I am, and much more accomplished, so he was the first to leave. He’d made a friend from a small sect. Song Lan. Have you heard of him, too?”

“Yes, the distant snow and frost.”

“Right. So Xingchen and Song Lan wanted to be cultivation partners and travel the world together. Shifu gave her blessing, and that was it.”

“You were left alone,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “He was ready to go. He couldn’t be expected to hang around waiting on me to grow up. When he left, he told me to come find him when I was ready.”

“Did you?”

“Couldn’t. By then, it was too late.”

“I am sorry.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to hear him. His eyes are distant, locked on the floor. Even the wine jug in his hand seems forgotten. “Shige broke the rule: he came back. And he brought Song Lan with him. He and Song Lan hunted and captured Xue Yang—he was a murderer and a thief—but he escaped from prison and got his revenge. He massacred Song Lan’s sect and blinded him. Xingchen brought Song Lan to Shifu to heal his eyes.”

“Baoshan Sanren can do that?” Lan Wangji blurts.

Wei Wuxian blinks up at him like he’d forgotten Lan Wangji was there. “Yeah. But something like that isn’t so easy. The only way to heal Song Lan was to give him Xingchen’s eyes.”

Lan Wangji swallows down his horror, remembering the gruesome pits under the creature’s blindfold. Xiao Xingchen sacrificed his own eyes for his friend. Truly an honorable person.

“I tried to stop it,” Wei Wuxian says, speaking quickly now. “I told Shige that Song Lan wouldn’t want it, but Song Lan was so devastated by his sect’s murder that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He attacked everyone who came near him. He even—he blamed Shige for letting them die, for showing mercy to Xue Yang.”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes and bows his head, wishing he could ask Wei Wuxian to stop.

“After—” Wei Wuxian’s voice cracks, but he keeps going. “After it was done, Xingchen left. He rose straight from the pallet, the blood still . . . and he just left. Shifu kept Song Lan sedated until he recovered. When she told him what Xingchen did, he left to find him. But Xue Yang found Xingchen first. Or maybe he found Xue Yang, I don’t know exactly what happened. After Song Lan left, we got word that Xingchen was dead.”

“I am sorry,” Lan Wangji repeats. Such useless words. “What of Song Lan?”

“I don’t know. I intend to ask Xue Yang about that before I kill him.”

“Did you leave your shifu to find him?”

“Yeah, I’ve been hunting him for years now.” Wei Wuxian sighs and stretches out his legs. “That oily bastard is good at hiding. The closest I’ve gotten is when I chased him into the Burial Mounds. At the time, I thought we’d probably both die in there, but it would have been worth it.”

“I am glad you escaped.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile is a ghost, but it warms as he meets Lan Wangji’s eyes. “So am I. Unfortunately, Xue Yang escaped, too.”

Wei Wuxian suddenly shakes his head and uncurls from the floor. He sets the wine jug on the table and stretches. “It’s getting late. Let’s save the rest for some other night, okay?”

“Of course. Thank you for telling me.”

Wei Wuxian bends and presses a kiss to Lan Wangji’s hair, nearly startling him off his cushion. “You’re welcome. But now you owe me a story, Lan Zhan.”

“I do not have many stories,” Lan Wangji says as Wei Wuxian’s hands knead his shoulders. “Nor am I proficient at telling them.”

“We’ll see about that.” Wei Wuxian’s fingers stroke his damp hair. “You can start by telling me about this ribbon you wear every day.” He tugs at the end of the ribbon, and Lan Wangji shivers.

“As you wish,” Lan Wangji chokes out as Wei Wuxian twines the ribbon around his fingers. He closes his eyes and allows Wei Wuxian to fondle the ribbon, wondering if there is anything he would not allow Wei Wuxian to do. “But perhaps another night.”

Wei Wuxian hums and tugs until Lan Wangji turns to face him. “Agreed,” he says with a grin. “I think we’ve done enough talking for tonight, don’t you?”

Lan Wangji responds with a kiss, which communicates his agreement more effectively than any words could.

After a considerable time spent not talking, they retire for the night on their respective pallets. As Lan Wangji is settling down to sleep, Wei Wuxian’s fingers dance over his chest. “You would’ve liked Xingchen,” he whispers even though the silencing talismans are still in place. “He got all the manners in the family.”

Lan Wangji smiles and lays his hand over Wei Wuxian’s. “Would he have poked me with a dizi?”

Wei Wuxian laughs softly. “I doubt it.”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji strokes his fingertips over Wei Wuxian’s hand. “I still prefer Wei Ying.”

There is silence at his side, and he wishes he could see Wei Wuxian’s face. Perhaps he said too much, revealed too much. But a moment later, Wei Wuxian wiggles closer and presses his face against Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

“I understand. I . . . feel much the same.”

A kiss is pressed to his shoulder. Then Wei Wuxian falls asleep, his hand still resting on Lan Wangji’s chest.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji is pushing a cart laden with planks—and one small boy—down the street when a chorus of harsh caws comes from overhead. The crows fly over the village, blocking out the sun with dark wings. He pauses to watch them disappear into the clouds.

“What is it?” A-Yuan asks from his perch on top of the planks.

Lan Wangji smiles and shakes his head. “Just birds. Hold on tightly.” He starts the cart rolling again, but his skin still skitters. The stories say that crows foretell misfortune, but he has always assumed the birds’ sinister reputation merely stemmed from their taste for dead flesh. However, in this village, the worst is likely to be true.

Once he delivers the planks, he sends A-Yuan back to Hao-laoshi so that he may continue aiding the builders. But only minutes later, his work is interrupted by a new sound.

He sets down the plank he was carrying and walks to the street. In the distance, a carriage is approaching. Wei Wuxian trots to his side, and they stand together watching the carriage trundle towards them. The driver smiles and waves but doesn’t stop. The curtains are drawn in the carriage, so they can’t tell how many passengers it carries.

When Lan Wangji starts towards them, Wei Wuxian catches his arm. “Don’t bother. They won’t believe you. Not yet, anyway.”

Lan Wangji nods, remembering his own first day here. The travelers will accept the truth more easily once they have experienced the trap themselves.

As the carriage rolls away, Wei Wuxian casts talismans that sail after the carriage and attach to its back. “Just in case,” Wei Wuxian murmurs.

While they wait for the carriage to return, Wei Wuxian snags a young man and sends him to tell Wen Qing to make ready for their new residents. Then they return to work. It will be some time before the carriage circles back, and the days are too short for dawdling.

When the carriage reappears, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to meet it. The driver hauls the horses to a stop and smiles sheepishly. “Apologies for disturbing your work,” the driver says. “I seem to have taken a wrong turn. Could you help me find the road to Meishan?”

“You have not erred,” Lan Wangji says. “It is impossible to leave this village. If you will depart from the carriage, we will assist you in finding lodgings.”

The driver laughs uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

“It is as Hanguang Jun says,” Wei Wuxian adds. “We know how it sounds, but we’re all trapped here. If you try to leave again, you’ll just end up right back in this village.”

The smile droops on the driver’s face. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No,” Lan Wangji says. “It is imperative that you and your passengers take shelter before the sun sets. The village is also beset by creatures who attack after dark.”

“Creatures?” The driver looks between them, twisting the reins. “What kind of creatures?”

“The kind you don’t want to meet,” Wei Wuxian says. “But don’t worry—you’ll be safe as long as you stay indoors.”

The driver looks past them to the workers who have gathered behind them. He nods frantically. “Alright, alright. The horses?”

“They’ll be fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “We’ll take them to—” The carriage door bangs open, and a man steps out.

“What is going on here?” the man demands. His robes are finely-made. A merchant, most likely. Inside the carriage, a woman sits holding a small child.

“They say we’re trapped here,” the driver tells the merchant. “There are monsters—”

“Nonsense!” the merchant snaps. “What is the meaning of this? Do you intend to rob us?”

“We are not thieves,” Lan Wangji says coolly. “We speak the truth. Before nightfall, you must find shelter or—”

“This is preposterous!” the merchant yells. He turns back to the carriage. “We’re leaving!”

Lan Wangji moves to stop him, but again, Wei Wuxian restrains him. “Might as well let them try,” he says. “Some people can be stubborn.”

Lan Wangji grits his teeth and looks up at the sun. It is still high in the sky, so there is little harm in letting the merchant discover the truth for himself. Still, he doesn’t like being accused of thievery.

This time, he and Wei Wuxian wait in front of the teahouse with their swords in hand. Even a skeptic such as this merchant must recognize the significance of the swords.

“I guess our sign didn’t work,” Wei Wuxian says as they wait.

“He probably assumed we were lying about that as well,” Lan Wangji says, still bristling.

Wei Wuxian snorts. “At least A-Yuan will have a new playmate.”

“Hopefully, the child is more personable than the father.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles and bumps his arm.

When the driver spots them, his shoulders sag. He pulls the horses to a halt and slides from the seat. “I don’t understand,” he mutters.

“Neither do we,” Wei Wuxian says, slapping the man’s shoulder. “The good news is that the food here is pretty good. Go on inside and get something to eat.”

The driver nods and heads into the teahouse.

The merchant pops out of the carriage and stomps over to them. “Now see here, I have important business in Meishan, and—”

“Your business will be delayed,” Lan Wangji says, enjoying interrupting this blowhard. “I suggest that you accept your circumstances.” He slides his eyes to the woman peering from the carriage door. “For the sake of your family.”

The merchant sputters, but Wei Wuxian steps toward him, unsmiling. “I am Wei Wuxian. This is Hanguang Jun. If you do as we say, you may survive here.”

“Is that a threat?” the ridiculous man shouts. “Do you think just because you’ve got those swords that you can do as you please? I’ll have you know—”

The woman steps out of the carriage and hurries to the merchant’s side. “Stop this! That is Hanguang Jun, you idiot! They’re trying to help us!”

Lan Wangji ignores the fuming merchant and bows to the woman. “Greetings, I am Lan Wangji of Gusu.”

The woman bows as well as she can with the child on her hip. “Gao Xiurong. My husband is Chen Tengqi.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Wei Wuxian says, bowing. “And who is this little doll?”

“This is Chen Jiao,” Gao Xiurong says, smiling. The little girl giggles as Wei Wuxian grins at her. Such is Wei Wuxian’s charm.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Wei Wuxian says. “Tonight, we’ll house you in the teahouse, but we’re working on finding better accommodations. If you’ll come with me?”

Wei Wuxian gestures for Gao Xiurong to precede him, then follows her up the steps. Chen Tengqi stands in the street, seething as he watches them go. Lan Wangji watches him, prepared to intercede if necessary, but Chen Tengqi just huffs and follows his family.

One of the younger men jogs over to Lan Wangji. “Hanguang Jun, I’ll drive the carriage.”

Lan Wangji nods. If he ever knew the man’s full name, he has forgotten it. Wei Wuxian only calls him “Chao-chao.” Lan Wangji simply tries to avoid addressing him. He follows the young man onto the driver’s seat. “We will take the horses to Hong Luo.”

The young man nods and snaps the reins. The carriage lurches forward. “Lil Apple will be happy to have some company,” the young man says.

“Mn.” The horses will be an added burden when winter comes, but perhaps they will also be useful. He wouldn’t mind having help hauling lumber.

They arrive at Hong Luo’s farm and unhitch the horses. It is a strange sight: the two fine carriage horses in the pasture with the grumpy little donkey. Lil Apple is not pleased. She brays at the big horses, but they ignore her to bury their heads in the pile of hay Hong Luo gave them.

When the horses are settled, Lan Wangji joins Wei Wuxian and the new residents at the teahouse. Wen Qing and Wen Ning have arrived as well. Chen Tengqi is still glowering, but Gao Xiurong and the driver, Shao Huian, have accepted their fate with more equanimity and are listening intently to what Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing tell them.

During a lull in the conversation, Lan Wangji asks, “Why did you enter the village after you saw the sign?”

“What sign?” Shao Huian asks.

“The one about the plague,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Now there’s plague, too?” Chen Tengqi asks, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t see a sign, daozhang,” Shao Huian says.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchange a glance. Perhaps their “caretaker” removed that obstacle as well.

After the discussion winds down, Wei Wuxian leads Lan Wangji back outside. As they walk to the temple, Wei Wuxian says, “I should stay with them tonight.”

The creatures like new blood. That is what Wei Wuxian told him on his first night here. Lan Wangji nods. “I will join you.”

“You should stay with Wen Ning. In case it gets bad.”

Lan Wangji hesitates, but Wei Wuxian is right. One of them should stay with Wen Ning, and Wei Wuxian is better equipped to aid the new family. “Very well.”

However, he does not like watching Wei Wuxian roll up his pallet and prepare to leave. Wei Wuxian tucks the bedroll under his arm and grins. “Don’t get too lonely without me tonight.”

Lan Wangji smirks. “I look forward to the peace and quiet.”

Wei Wuxian huffs and kisses him. It is lingering and sweet, and it makes Lan Wangji’s heart ache. “See you in the morning,” Wei Wuxian murmurs.

“Be careful,” Lan Wangji blurts as Wei Wuxian opens the door.

“You too.” Wei Wuxian winks and strides out the door.

That evening, Lan Wangji and the Wens eat together. Afterwards, Lan Wangji remains in the kitchen. For now, Wen Ning is still in charge of his own mind. Somehow it is worse to see him chained now than when the creatures invade, perhaps because he accepts his condition so sheepishly, as if he is to blame.

With Wen Ning bound for the night, Wen Qing joins Lan Wangji at the table and begins to write in the book she uses to record village business. Lan Wangji has rarely spoken with Wen Qing, nor has he dared to ask her about Wen Ning’s susceptibility. All Wei Wuxian has told him of the Wens is that they left Wen Ruohan’s sect.

Although Lan Wangji had already assumed they were part of the Wen clan, he was surprised they served in Nightless City. Wen Ruohan was more interested in power than in serving the people. A few years prior, the cultivation world nearly went to war with the Wens. Then Wen Ruohan died and Jiang Fengmian took on the role of chief cultivator. Its leader’s death left the Wen clan greatly diminished, and it has not recovered its honor. It is obvious why people as kind and honorable as Wen Qing and her family would leave. It is also obvious why Wen Qing does not wish to speak of the past.

Lan Wangji was planning to use this time to make his own notes, but the room is too quiet without Wei Wuxian here telling stories and teasing them. Every snap of firewood and rustle of chain echoes in the small room.

“Do you mind if I play?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I would like to hear you play, Hanguang Jun,” Wen Ning says.

Wen Qing smiles at her brother, then nods at Lan Wangji.

“What would you like to hear?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Oh, anything you want!” Wen Ning says.

Lan Wangji calls to the guqin. He plays one of the more cheerful songs he learned from Bai Juyi, and even Wen Qing pauses her work to listen.

During the second song, Wen Ning starts shifting on the bed. “A-Ning,” Wen Qing calls, but her brother doesn’t answer.

Lan Wangji dampens the guqin strings. Outside the temple, creatures whisper and laugh like children giggling behind their teacher’s back.

He sets down the guqin and hurries to the front window. The creatures shuffle by, smiling and stretching their stolen limbs. None of them turns toward the temple. Tonight, their destination is clear.

Watching them go and knowing they will converge on the teahouse is almost more than he can bear. His hand clenches on Bichen’s hilt; his muscles tense, ready to spring. But he must trust in Wei Wuxian. Trusting Wei Wuxian’s ability is easy. However, trusting Wei Wuxian to act cautiously is much more difficult.

At least a dozen creatures pass by the temple before the last one disappears down the street. Then the only sound is the soft clink of Wen Ning’s chains.

The silence does not last. Only minutes after the creatures’ march ends, voices rise in the distance. The night howls with shrieks and eerie laughter. Lan Wangji closes his eyes and focuses his hearing, listening for Wei Wuxian’s dizi.

The first notes cut through the creatures’ shrieks in a command so powerful that the hair on Lan Wangji’s arms prickles. He moves to the door.

“Hanguang Jun!” Wen Qing calls from the kitchen.

He hesitates, his hand on the door. But this is why he agreed to stay at the temple. Wei Wuxian would want him to stay.

He runs to the kitchen. On the bed, Wen Ning thrashes and tosses his head, growling and snapping his teeth. Lan Wangji plays Clarity for him while trying to listen for the dizi. But Wen Ning’s struggles do not cease. Neither do the howls outside.

“Hold him,” Wen Qing says, drawing a needle from her robe.

Lan Wangji restrains Wen Ning so that Wen Qing can slide the needle into his scalp. He has never asked what the needle does, but he knows that Wen Qing refrains from using it unless absolutely necessary. Once the needle is in place, Wen Ning’s eyes close and his body stills. Wen Qing sinks to her knees beside the bed and holds her brother’s hand, whispering soothing words.

Even if Lan Wangji knew how to comfort her, he is too distracted to do so. He hurries back to the window. The dizi has stopped, and so have the voices, but there is no sign of the creatures. Did they succeed in luring out the merchant’s family? Are they inside the teahouse, snarling over their meal?

Not knowing torments him as he sits at the table, waiting for sunrise.

At the first sign of dawn, he runs to the teahouse. The door is shut, and the talismans still hang on the door. For several reeling moments, he stands in the street, waiting for his breath to slow and for his heart to accept that Wei Wuxian is well.

It is early, and it would be horribly rude to wake the sleepers inside, especially Wei Wuxian, so Lan Wangji leaves the teahouse to check on the other houses. All seems well. That should please him, but he will not truly be pacified until he has seen Wei Wuxian alive and grinning.

At a more reasonable hour, he returns to the teahouse and finds Wei Wuxian eating breakfast with Duan Yiran and the new residents.

“Hanguang Jun!” Wei Wuxian calls in welcome, “Come eat! No watery congee for us this morning.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, for a moment so wonderfully devastated by Wei Wuxian’s smile that he cannot move, that he forgets the other people in the room.

Duan Yiran must think he hesitates due to uncertainty about his welcome because she hurries to guide him to the table. “Please join us, Hanguang Jun,” she says. “We have plenty!”

When he is seated beside Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian drops a steamed bun on his plate. “No meat in this one,” he says, and winks before rejoining the conversation.

He dutifully eats the steamed bun, but minutes pass before his mind can focus on the words being passed around the table. The merchant’s tone is much milder today, and given his pallor, he probably had little sleep last night. Instead of barking orders, Chen Tengqi trembles out question after question. Lan Wangji almost prefers yesterday’s belligerence. It is obvious that Chen Tengqi will be one of the nervous types who hounds his steps.

However, Gao Xiurong and the driver, Shao Huian, seem to be bearing up well. Shao Huian’s main concern is for his horses. After breakfast, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian take him to his horses and leave him in Hong Luo’s care.

“How did it go last night?” Wei Wuxian says as they leave the farm.

“Wen Ning required sedation,” Lan Wangji answers. “I heard you playing. Was there trouble?”

“Not too bad. It was scary for the little girl, though.”

“Will you return to the temple tonight?”

Wei Wuxian grins and peers at him from under his eyelashes. “Did you miss me, Lan Zhan?”

“Unbearably,” Lan Wangji says, telling the truth in the driest voice he owns.

Wei Wuxian laughs and sways against him. “Yeah, they should be okay. Wen Qing is moving people around so they can have Song Quan’s house, so they’ll be close by if there’s trouble.”

Lan Wangji hums approval. He would gladly house the new family in the temple if it meant having Wei Wuxian in sight.

With the new arrivals settled, the village returns to its usual rhythm. No one has found a use for Chen Tengqi, who seems to have no beneficial skills, but he spends most of his time lounging at the teahouse while his wife helps Duan Yiran, so at least he is not underfoot.

Tonight has been peaceful, at least relatively so. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have time to play together for the joy of it rather than to battle the creatures. After two of their usual duets, Wei Wuxian shifts into the song Bai Juyi played at Lan Wangji’s first meeting.

Lan Wangji plucks the correct notes, but Wei Wuxian unfurls into the music. What Wei Wuxian creates is not Bai Juyi’s solemn lament, but it is no less powerful. Wei Wuxian’s song soars and plunges, aches and glimmers. Lan Wangji is swept along with him, his walls cracking until emotion pours free.

It rips as it comes, but Wei Wuxian smiles and twines him tighter. Powerless to stop it, Lan Wangji lets his heart tell its tale.

When it’s done, he feels both light and scraped thin. Wei Wuxian kneels beside him, cups his jaw, and breathes a kiss between his lips. “Beautiful,” Wei Wuxian sighs, and kisses him again. The kisses follow the song’s rhythm, slow and yearning.

In harmony, they move to the pallets. There is no need to think—he needs only to seek what he wants. There is no need to conceal his longing because Wei Wuxian meets him with eager moans and grasping hands. It is as if he cannot push too far: Wei Wuxian will always take what he offers and reach for more.

The robes come off, and Lan Wangji pushes himself between Wei Wuxian’s thighs. “We need talismans,” Wei Wuxian whispers even as he wraps a leg over Lan Wangji’s hip.

Smirking, Lan Wangji reaches for his qiankun bag and removes a stack of paper. “We have plenty,” he says as he shows Wei Wuxian the two dozen silencing talismans.

Wei Wuxian buries his laugh in Lan Wangji’s arm. “When did you make so many?”

“While you were sleeping.” He sends the talismans flying to the four corners and picks up the jar of oil.

“So diligent, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian croons. He smiles, gazing up at Lan Wangji with unmasked affection, more overwhelming than the power of his music.

They move slowly tonight, yet time blurs, moments lost to simply feeling. His lips dull from kissing, his arms tremble, and then he is inside Wei Wuxian, groaning at the perfection, Wei Wuxian calling him and dragging him closer, deeper.

He is pulled under, only Wei Wuxian with him in the depths, and then they break together, dragging in breaths and clinging to each other as they surface.

Lan Wangji whispers his name and wraps around him, torn apart and pieced back together in an unfamiliar pattern. “Wei Ying,” he says again for the joy of saying it. Wei Wuxian holds him tighter and shivers his name against his chest.

In the morning, he wakes to Wei Wuxian’s head on his chest and Wei Wuxian’s arm wrapped around his waist. For the first time in his life, he ignores the dawn and stays in the embrace. The three thousand rules in his sect’s philosophy deserve respect, but whoever wrote the one about waking at mao shi never had the pleasure of sleeping with Wei Wuxian in his arms. If he had, he would surely understand.

Chapter Text

“I have an idea,” Wei Wuxian says as they are finishing the nightly warning.

This could mean anything from a way to grow chilies faster to something of a more intimate nature, but given Wei Wuxian’s blank expression and the rapid rotations of the dizi, it is something dangerous.

“Yes?” Lan Wangji prompts when Wei Wuxian doesn’t continue.

“Do you remember that net I was going to use to move the Serpent?”

“I do.”

“Well, I’ve thought of another use for it.”

The next evening, Lan Wangji steps out onto the temple’s porch. He does not have to wait long before the creatures come for him.

Three of them walk toward the temple, as cheerful as revelers at a festival. Lan Wangji sends a burst of power towards the creatures. It only halts them for a moment, but it is long enough for Wei Wuxian—waiting on the roof—to drop the net over them.

The creatures mill around Wei Wuxian’s cage, smiling like they enjoy the trick. Then, as if realizing the problem, they hiss and tear at the golden strands.

It is satisfying to see them helplessly imprisoned for once. It will be more satisfying to see them burn in the daylight.

Wei Wuxian jumps from the roof and joins him on the porch.

“It is working,” Lan Wangji says.

“Yeah, but more are coming. Let’s go.”

They go back inside the temple and watch from the window as more creatures gather around the cage. The creatures tilt their heads curiously at their trapped compatriots but make no move to free them.

“Let’s hope it lasts the night,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji is woken by a clatter. He rolls off the pallet and grabs his sword as Wei Wuxian drops the bolt and throws open the door.

“Wei Ying?”

“They’re digging out,” Wei Wuxian answers as Lan Wangji runs to his side. Although the creatures are still inside the cage, they are clawing at the ground, trying to tunnel beneath the barrier.

Wei Wuxian raises a hand, then pulls it back like he’s drawing a bowstring. The cage collapses and tightens around the creatures. When they are bound, wriggling and hissing, Wei Wuxian’s arm flies up, and the entire bundle—cage and creature—rises in the air. One of the creatures tumbles out, but the other two are held fast by the net.

The creature who fell free slithers away, apparently preferring freedom to feasting. Wei Wuxian drops his arm, and the bundle falls with it. The creatures inside are bound too tightly to stand, much less dig free.

“Good work,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian sighs and tugs him back inside the temple. “I should’ve known they’d try that.”

“It did not occur to me either.”

Lan Wangji studies the bruises under Wei Wuxian’s eyes, the drag of his shoulders. Although he isn’t certain of the hour, he is certain that Wei Wuxian should have woken him by now for his turn at watch. “Sleep. I will watch until morning.”

“I’m fine, Lan Zhan.”

“So am I. Go to sleep.” Lan Wangji pushes him away, and Wei Wuxian barely grumbles as he drops down on the pallet.

As Wei Wuxian sleeps, Lan Wangji returns to the window and begins his watch.

The shrieking begins as the first frail light shimmers on the golden net.

Wei Wuxian shoves off the pallet and shuffles to the window, mumbling a question.

“They are still trapped,” Lan Wangji assures him. “The sun is rising.”

Wei Wuxian leans against him and yawns as they watch from the window. “Guess they’re desperate.”

Lan Wangji hums and wraps an arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist. It is unlike him to enjoy any being’s suffering, but perhaps his eagerness to see these creatures burn can be forgiven. No creature fiendish enough to steal his mother’s form deserves mercy.

A roar from the kitchen jolts them apart. Behind the door, something smashes and clanks. Wei Wuxian reacts first and runs toward the kitchen. He reaches the door just as Wen Ning slams through it, snarling and trailing chains.

Wei Wuxian strikes Wen Ning’s chest. The blow sends Wen Ning staggering back into Wen Qing. As she falls to the floor, Wen Ning recovers and shoves Wei Wuxian aside, heading for the door.

Lan Wangji moves between Wen Ning and the door.

“Don’t!” Wen Qing cries, but Lan Wangji raises his empty hand, not his sword. The power he sends out freezes Wen Ning so that Wei Wuxian can slap a talisman on his back.

Wen Ning sways in place, his eyes white and empty. The creatures shriek louder in an ear-piercing command. Wen Ning shudders at that command and takes a stumbling step forward.

“We have to get him back to the bed!” Wei Wuxian shouts.

Lan Wangji draws one of Wei Wuxian’s talismans from his robe. The cord he casts wraps around Wen Ning’s legs. A moment later, Wei Wuxian’s cord winds around his chest.

Lan Wangji catches Wen Ning as he topples and lifts him onto his shoulder. Back in the kitchen, he lays Wen Ning on the bed. He and Wei Wuxian do their best with the broken chains, and Wei Wuxian sticks more talismans on Wen Ning’s chest. The restraints hold—for now—but Wen Ning still snarls and shudders. Although he may be too far gone to reach, Lan Wangji settles onto the floor to play Clarity.

“Are you okay?” Wei Wuxian asks Wen Qing.

“I’m fine.” She kneels beside her brother. “Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian backs away from them until he’s standing beside Lan Wangji. His boot nudges against Lan Wangji’s leg until Lan Wangji looks up at him. Wei Wuxian smiles. “I’m going to—”

“Wei Wuxian,” a voice hisses.

Lan Wangji’s fingers falter on the guqin strings. Wen Qing cries out and staggers back from the bed.

Wen Ning turns his white eyes toward them and rasps out a horrid laugh. “Wei Wuxian, your tricks are useless.”

Wen Qing gasps and reaches for her brother, but Wei Wuxian holds her back. Lan Wangji sends the guqin away and goes to the bed where Wen Ning smiles with the creatures’ eerie grimace.

“Release us,” Wen Ning hisses.

“I don’t think I will,” Wei Wuxian tells the creature who speaks with Wen Ning’s mouth. “I’m looking forward to watching you burn.”

The creature snarls. “You cannot kill us. We are many.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I’ve got plenty of time. And plenty of nets.”

“You are nothing. You are meat for the master.”

“What master?” Lan Wangji demands. “Whom do you serve?”

The creature laughs. “Pray you never meet him.”

Wei Wuxian pushes Wen Qing away and leans over the bed. “Is he the one who trapped us here? I’d love to meet this bastard.”

The creature only laughs.

“Tell me!’ Wei Wuxian shouts. He grabs Wen Ning’s robes and shakes him. “Tell me his name!”

“Stop!” Wen Qing pleads, trying to pull Wei Wuxian back, but he ignores her.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji calls. He grips Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, and Wei Wuxian subsides, his fists clenched.

The creatures in Wei Wuxian’s cage screech and howl, and Wen Ning convulses on the bed. Wen Qing shoves between them and sticks a needle in Wen Ning’s neck. The kitchen falls silent, but the shrieking continues outside.

Lan Wangji runs to the window. Smoke rises from the tangled net as the sun shines down on the creatures. Wei Wuxian opens the door, and they watch the creatures burn until the net covers only a pile of ashes.

“Zhi Xia was right,” Lan Wangji says.

“Looks like it,” Wei Wuxian mutters.

They approach the smoldering ashes. Wei Wuxian dispels the net, and they stare at what they’ve wrought. Not even a shard of bone or strand of hair remains.

“We can kill them,” Lan Wangji says.

“Yep.” Wei Wuxian tilts his face toward the morning sun. “Then we just have to deal with this mysterious ‘master.’”

Lan Wangji nods and watches the wind chase away the ashes. They have finally succeeded, but he cannot feel triumphant, not when his ears still ring with monstrous laughter.

Although word spread quickly from the early risers who witnessed the pile of ashes, a village meeting was still necessary to discuss the new development. More accurately, Wen Qing felt it would be more efficient to let the villagers pester them with questions as a group rather than individually. In this, she was certainly correct, though the meeting was as arduous as it was jubilant.

Of course, the villagers had more incentive to celebrate because the revelation of the “master” was confined to residents of the temple. Since that night, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have spent considerable time debating methods of discovering more about this master. Although Wei Wuxian mentioned capturing more creatures in hopes of speaking with them through Wen Ning, they agreed that even if Wen Qing were to allow it, they could not stomach putting their friend through such torment, even though Wen Ning has no memory of the event.

Regardless, none of the creatures has come close enough to the temple to be captured since that night. After a few nights of empty streets, Wei Wuxian suggests that they attack from the teahouse instead. However, they only manage to trap one creature outside the teahouse.

“There could be dozens of them,” Wei Wuxian says as they eat the breakfast Duan Yiran serves them the next morning. “Killing them one at a time will take ages, and we’d still be trapped.”

Lan Wangji nods and sips his tea. “Perhaps we should focus on locating their master.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Wei Wuxian says, slapping Lan Wangji’s thigh. “I had an idea about that. Maybe.”

Predictably, Wei Wuxian refuses to discuss this idea, insisting that “it’s better to just show you, Lan Zhan.” Which is why Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are walking through the western wood accompanied by a chicken. The chicken tucked under Wei Wuxian’s arm is enduring the suspense with more patience than Lan Wangji.

“Explain,” Lan Wangji says.

“So impatient, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian chuckles and strokes the chicken’s back. “Do you know the story of the scholar and the pearl?”

“I do not believe so,” Lan Wangji says, very patiently.

“Well, it goes like this: there was a scholar who had a wife and son whom he loved very much, but he lived in fear of losing them. Every night, he lay awake imagining all the terrible things that could happen to them, everything from demons to disease. His fear became so strong that he could barely think of anything else.

“But he was a wise and talented cultivator, and he dedicated all his art to figuring out ways to keep his family safe. He designed dozens of barrier wards, protection talismans and arrays—all that kind of thing—so that he could protect his family from every imaginable disaster. But even that wasn’t enough to ease his worries.

“One day, he got an idea. Maybe he found a pearl while he was eating oysters, who knows. Anyway, he created a magic pearl large enough to hold his wife and son. That pearl’s shell would be impenetrable—no sword could break it, no fire could scorch it, and so on.”

Ah, Lan Wangji thinks, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Wei Wuxian is secretive about his designs until they are complete, and Lan Wangji has respected his privacy, but given how often Wei Wuxian has muttered over his scraps of paper recently, it is no surprise that he has a new invention to share. However, Lan Wangji is enjoying listening to Wei Wuxian tell his story, so he does not interrupt.

“One day,” Wei Wuxian continues, “the scholar’s worst fears came true: a group of bandits attacked his home. While the scholar’s guards fought the bandits, the scholar put his family inside the pearl. And it worked. The bandits’ swords couldn’t break through the shell, and his family was safe.

“But after the bandits were defeated, the scholar couldn’t release the spell. No matter what he did, his family was still trapped inside. For years—until the day he died—he worked on ways to free them, but every method failed. His wife and son were perfectly safe. They didn’t need to eat or drink, and they never aged, but he could never really be with them. They were just shadows on the other side of the shell.”

They have reached the clearing they use to spar, and Wei Wuxian halts his story to set the chicken down in the grass.

“Did they ever escape?” Lan Wangji asks.

“The story doesn’t say, but I bet the spell ended when the scholar died. And once he was gone, the wife and son were set free.”

“Then the moral of the story is that one cannot every truly shield those they love,” Lan Wangji says. “By trying to do so, the scholar prevented them all from living happily.”

“Yeah sure, but there’s a more important lesson.”

“Which is?”

“Test your spells thoroughly!” Wei Wuxian wags a finger at him. “You can’t just stick your family in a giant pearl without testing it first.”

Lan Wangji looks at the chicken and smiles. “Wei Ying is very responsible.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Believe me, I learned the hard way. Once you nearly blow your own hands off a few times, you learn to be cautious.”

“Hong Luo will not be pleased if his chicken explodes.”

“No explosions today,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning. “But if you want to volunteer in the chicken’s place . . .?”

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes and gestures for Wei Wuxian to proceed.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. He draws a talisman from his sleeve and rolls his shoulders. “Don’t laugh if it fails, okay?”

“I will attempt to restrain myself.”

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and lets the talisman fly. A moment later, the clearing erupts in golden sparks that dart through the sky like cinders on the wind until they coalesce into a glimmering globe around the chicken. The chicken pays this miracle no attention, more interested in pecking at the grass.

Breathless with wonder, Lan Wangji steps forward into the glow of the lights. The array is something like the cage Wei Wuxian made to trap the creatures, but instead of golden strands, this cage is formed of sigils that twine through the air, like a lantern made of stars.

“What do you think?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Beautiful,” Lan Wangji sighs. He tears his eyes from the sigils to look at Wei Wuxian. “What does it do?”

Wei Wuxian grimaces and flicks his nose. “Well, in theory, anyone in there will be protected.”

Lan Wangji stretches a hand toward the spinning lights. Although the shield Wei Wuxian created is not solid like the scholar’s pearl, his hand cannot penetrate its surface. There is no pain—just a warm tingle—but he is repelled nonetheless.

“To protect us from the creatures?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian steps beside him and raises his face to watch the golden orb spin. The sparks flicker bright in his dark eyes. “From the mist.”

After they return Hong Luo’s chicken, they head to the eastern wood. Wei Wuxian finds a recent trail left by the creatures, and they follow it until they must stop in fear of the mist.

“Maybe I should try it alone first,” Wei Wuxian says. “In case something goes wrong.”

Having expected this, Lan Wangji does not need time to respond: “We will go together.”

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian huffs. “Just don’t be mad if we’re stuck in there for eternity.”

Wei Wuxian casts the new talisman, and the glittering gold spins around them. It is even more beautiful from inside the sphere, but Lan Wangji has no time to appreciate the beauty because Wei Wuxian starts walking and the sphere moves with him. Being inside the sphere is like walking through starlight, the constellations dancing around them. It keeps pace with them as they walk, like they have become the center of a small golden world.

Soon the world outside the sphere grows hazy with the rising mist. However, none of the mist nor the magic penetrates Wei Wuxian’s protective spell.

“Do you feel anything?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“No. The array is working.”

“Yeah. So far, so good.” Wei Wuxian stops walking and peers through the golden sigils. “Now we just need to find their hiding spot.”

Finding tracks is impossible while surrounded by mist, but after only a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, the mist dissipates.

“What do you think?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Drop the spell.”

Wei Wuxian nods and snaps his fingers. The shield around them blinks out. They wait to see if the forest will attack again, but the strange weakness does not occur.

“Alright, Hanguang Jun,” Wei Wuxian says as he draws the dizi from his belt and gives it a spin. “Let’s take a stroll.”

They start walking. Although the forest is not markedly different from the area on the other side of the mist, it still feels strange to explore somewhere new after months of the same surroundings.

“Maybe we made it out,” Wei Wuxian says. “It’s possible, right?”

“Mn.” Possible, but unlikely, as Wei Wuxian well knows.

“We should fly up over the trees to get a look around.”

Lan Wangji starts to agree, but a particularly strident caw makes him turn. The sound came from a large crow perched on the gnarled limb of an old tree. The tree’s wide trunk is hollowed by a black, gaping wound. Although the forest floor is green beneath the fallen leaves, the grass around the old tree is dry and withered, as if the tree is a carcass, spreading its rot through poisoned roots.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says softly, and starts walking toward the tree. The crow flutters its wings and takes flight.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian whispers back and trots past him to peer at the tree. He turns back to Lan Wangji, his eyes wide. “Do you feel that?”

Lan Wangji nods. Resentful energy slithers from the tree. He raises Bichen to shine light into the hollow, but even then, the chasm appears bottomless.

“It’s a passageway,” Wei Wuxian says, his words breathless with excitement. “It must be. I bet this will take us to their hiding spot.”

Lan Wangji nods. It would be prudent to take time for consideration, to attempt a plan, but he feels the same excitement. Finally, a chance to find answers, to put an end to the evil here.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian says, “should we go?”

“I would not advise it,” a voice says behind them.

They whirl around. Bichen sings from its sheath.

In the shadows stands a young man in gray robes. He is unarmed and holding a fan closed against his chest. Despite this, Lan Wangji’s skin prickles with unease.

“Who are you?” Wei Wuxian demands. “Where did you come from?”

The man ignores the questions. “What lies below is not for you to seek. Turn back while you can.”

Wei Wuxian turns to scowl at Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji blinks his agreement. That was quite pompous.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes back to the stranger. “Let me guess: you’re the mysterious ‘master.’ Are your minions hiding down there?” He points at the hollowed tree.

“I am not,” the man says. He remains expressionless despite Wei Wuxian’s impertinence. “For your safety, cease your search and return to the village.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Wei Wuxian smirks and twirls the dizi. “We’ve gotten pretty tired of your little trap, so whatever you’re hiding down there—”

The man moves so fast that Lan Wangji’s eyes cannot track him. Between one heartbeat and the next, the man simply appears between them and the tree.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leap back and raise their weapons, but the man remains still. “I do not wish to harm you,” he says.

Lan Wangji looks to Wei Wuxian, who smirks—yeah, right. They attack.

The man deflects Bichen with a flutter of his fan, then sidesteps Suibian. Their next forays are just as easily avoided. The man evades their attacks with seemingly effortless grace. His fan wafts the air, the epitome of languor. It would be satisfying to beat him with it.

“The dizi,” Lan Wangji gasps when he and Wei Wuxian nearly collide after another failed attempt. Wei Wuxian nods and exchanges his sword for the dizi. The music chills Lan Wangji’s blood, but the man only raises a haughty eyebrow.

As Wei Wuxian plays, the man floats into the air and frowns down at them like a disapproving father. Sunlight strikes his robes, picking out constellations of light in the gray silk. “Enough!” the man snaps. “I am not some scrap of spirit to be controlled by your wicked tricks.”

The shame that cuts across Wei Wuxian’s face sparks Lan Wangji’s anger anew. But even in his fury, he notices that the man is no longer between them and the tree.

“Wei Ying,” he murmurs, cutting his eyes toward the hollow tree. Wei Wuxian follows his gaze, then nods.

Wei Wuxian fires a talisman at the man that encloses him in a golden cage. The man breaks it with a swipe of his fan, but the delay gives them enough time to leap toward the tree.

“Stop!” the man yells, but Lan Wangji dives in, Wei Wuxian at his heels.

They fall through blackness. For a few fraught moments, Lan Wangji fears they will fall forever, but then they bounce off rock, tumbling and grunting through a tight tunnel. Their descent ends with more bruising rock and Wei Wuxian’s knee jabbed into Lan Wangji’s ass.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian groans as he heaves himself off Lan Wangji’s back. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Lan Wangji accepts the hand Wei Wuxian offers. When he is upright, he raises Bichen. The sword’s light reveals bare stone walls. They have landed in a cavern, which is preferable to a pit of monsters, but not by much.

“Looks like he isn’t going to follow us down,” Wei Wuxian says as he peers into the tunnel they just left. “Too bad for him. It was kind of fun.”

Lan Wangji hums and does not rub his sore ass. He moves farther into the cavern. Three passageways lead away from it. “Which shall we choose?”

Wei Wuxian investigates the passageways, then points at the one farthest away. “That one.”

“Why?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Because in the stories, the last choice is always the right one. If we were going in order of closest to farthest, this would be the last one.”

Lan Wangji blinks, examining this logic. “But won’t that make it our first choice?”

“Don’t overthink it,” Wei Wuxian says, nudging Lan Wangji with his elbow. “Besides, they’re probably all bad.”

“Mn.” This is almost certainly true.

They begin to walk down the passageway with Bichen lighting the way. The walls are close, and the light reflects off the stone, blinding them to anything more than a few feet away. Although Lan Wangji has explored his share of caves in pursuit of creatures, here he feels the horror of burial more strongly than ever. How much earth rests above their heads? How simple would it be for the powerful man above to bury them in this tunnel?

Wei Wuxian’s fingers curl under Lan Wangji’s sash. “I hate caves,” Wei Wuxian mutters. Even those hushed words are loud in the sunken silence.

Lan Wangji hums low agreement. It is a relief to feel Wei Wuxian’s fingers against his back as they shuffle forward in the darkness.

At first Lan Wangji thinks it is only his imagination and unease that make Bichen’s light seem fainter, but then the light fades until he can no longer see his own hand on the sword hilt.

“Lan Zhan, do you feel that?”

“Hm?” Lan Wangji frowns at his sword, but it does not glow brighter.

“I feel something,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “I think. Don’t you feel it?”

The tunnel widens until the walls disappear into the gloom. A foul stench engulfs them as Bichen fails entirely.

“Shit,” Wei Wuxian hisses. “We have to go back. We have to—”

In the darkness, something hisses back. Stone slides as something slithers toward them.

“Run!” Wei Wuxian yelps, and hauls Lan Wangji back by his sash.

They stumble blindly through the tunnel, bouncing off the walls and each other. Snarls and dark laughter follow. Claws scratch and click, gaining too quickly. As they run, Lan Wangji calls to Bichen, but the sword remains dark. It has grown heavy, so heavy that the tip chinks against the stone as they flee.

They reach the main cavern, now bright after the long dark. But in this brightness, it is clear that their escape is blocked by the creatures. More pour from the passageways and encircle them. Even in their monstrous forms, they grin, razor teeth flashing.

Lan Wangji raises his sword and hopes the creatures don’t see how much effort it takes. Not that it matters. They have no reason to fear any sword.

“The array,” Lan Wangji murmurs.

“I’m trying,” Wei Wuxian snarls back.

Lan Wangji shifts his eyes from the creatures to Wei Wuxian, who is fumbling with a talisman, but the paper stays inert.

It will not work, Lan Wangji realizes. There is something like the mist in this cavern, something that disrupts their qi. But even that should not prevent them from using talismans, so there must be something else. Some kind of ward against spells of any kind. But perhaps not against Wei Wuxian’s method.

“Try the dizi,” Lan Wangji says.

He does not have time to wait for Wei Wuxian’s reply because the first creatures attack.

Lan Wangji lifts Bichen with both hands and blocks the first swipe of claws. Then he relies on his feet. He may not have the strength to swing the sword, but his legs are not affected. Kicking is hardly lethal, but all he hopes to achieve now is to keep the creatures away from Wei Wuxian for as long as he can.

The dizi’s screams echo through the cavern. The creatures howl in reply. Those surrounding Lan Wangji fall back and claw at their misshapen heads.

But there are too many. Even weakened by the dizi, the creatures crawl and lurch toward them.

Lan Wangji’s goal changes to cutting a path to their escape route. He fights his way closer to the entrance, but progress is slow when he has to battle the creatures before him and also keep them from reaching Wei Wuxian.

They are still far from the entrance when Wei Wuxian’s hand taps his shoulder. Lan Wangji turns to him. Still playing, Wei Wuxian smiles. This smile is bleak. This smile says, goodbye, Lan Zhan.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian coughs, spattering blood over the dizi.

“Wei Ying!”

Lan Wangji catches him as he slides down, but Wei Wuxian shoves feebly at his shoulder. “Run,” Wei Wuxian chokes out. Bloody tears roll down his cheeks.

“No.”

He lays Wei Wuxian down and stands, meeting the first attacker with his boot.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian gargles. His hand clamps around Lan Wangji’s ankle. “Go.”

“No.”

“Stubborn,” Wei Wuxian whispers. His hand slides down Lan Wangji’s boot and falls to the floor. His eyes close.

Without the dizi to hinder them, the creatures grin and prowl closer. They have nothing to fear now and seem happy to take their time. That is fine. He will greedily accept every moment they have left.

Bichen is heavy, but Lan Wangji lifts it as high as he can. If they are to die here, then he will die surrounded by a pile of limbs. These monsters will not touch Wei Wuxian while there is still strength in his body.

The creatures swarm.

Chapter Text

The creatures swarm.

As the first claws snatch at Lan Wangji’s robes, the cavern erupts in light. A blast of wind sends him stumbling and slaps his hair against his face. A deep rumble drowns the creatures’ howls. Lan Wangji stands in the eye of a hurricane, utterly confused. Is this death, then? One last grand storm before nothingness?

The cavern booms with a force he feels in his bones, the thunder so immense that he fears the cave will collapse. He steadies himself above Wei Wuxian’s unconscious form as the creatures wail and flee from the lightning sparking overhead. The wind shrieks louder and hurtles creatures against the walls, tumbles them into each other. But it is the light they seem to truly fear. They cover their eyes and hunch away from the lightning ricocheting through the cavern.

As the last of the creatures disappears into the passageways, the storm quiets. Lan Wangji kneels beside Wei Wuxian and wraps his fingers around his wrist. Wei Wuxian does not stir. “Wei Ying?”

“He is alive.”

Lan Wangji looks over his shoulder, not terribly surprised to see the man in the gray robes standing in the cavern. However, those robes now appear silver. Lightning crackles over the fabric like it is woven from storm clouds.

The man sighs and spins the fan in a circle. A portal lined with silver sigils opens before him. “This will be faster than crawling out of the tunnel,” he says, and gestures for Lan Wangji to enter.

Lan Wangji hesitates, but only for a moment. This man could probably kill him with a fingertip if he wanted, and the portal couldn’t lead anywhere worse than where they currently are. So he lifts Wei Wuxian into his arms and steps through the portal.

And out in front of the hollow tree.

The man follows and stares into the distance as Lan Wangji lowers Wei Wuxian to the ground and speaks softly, stroking Wei Wuxian’s arms, wiping blood from his face, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t wake.

The man bends down beside them. Before Lan Wangji can stop him, the man touches a fingertip to Wei Wuxian’s forehead. Wei Wuxian sits up with a gasp. “Lan Zhan!”

“I am here,” Lan Wangji says, gripping his hand. “We are safe. I think.” He cuts his eyes toward the man.

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian blinks at the man, then turns to spit dark blood on the grass. “Gross.” He pushes at Lan Wangji until he moves back and helps Wei Wuxian to his feet. “So what happened? How’d we get out?”

Lan Wangji shifts his eyes to the man again.

The man raises his eyebrows expectantly. When they remain silent, he huffs. “You’re welcome.”

“The blame is mine,” the man says later, after Lan Wangji has made Wei Wuxian drink some water and Wei Wuxian has fussed over the gashes on Lan Wangji’s arm that he hadn’t had time to notice before. During this, the man made no move to leave, only stood by idly waving his fan.

“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“I should not have allowed cultivators to enter the village.” The man shifts so that he is staring at the hollow tree. “Perhaps I have grown too complacent. It has been so long.”

“You are responsible for the trap,” Lan Wangji says, his hand tensing on his sword hilt. Whatever affected him below is wearing off, though that likely won’t matter against this man—if he even is a man.

“In a sense,” the man says, inclining his head. “However, I assure you that it was necessary.” He turns back to them and blinks slowly. “Not to worry. After all, the solution is simple: you are free to go.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian squawks. “You mean that after all this time, you’re just going to set us all free?”

“Not all,” the man says. “I am afraid that is not possible. However, the two of you should leave. Then things may return to their designated order.”

Wei Wuxian laughs darkly. “Do you really expect us to just leave everyone else behind so your monsters can eat them?”

“They are not my monsters. But yes, that would be best.”

“No,” Lan Wangji grunts.

“We’re getting everyone out,” Wei Wuxian says.

The man sighs. “It has been so long since I have interacted with humans. Of course, it is understandable that you wish to save the others; however, you cannot.”

“You are not human?” Lan Wangji asks. It is not a surprise, but his breath still quickens. A gift from the gods—that is what the villagers said of the chickens. A caretaker with the power to call the storm, to open a portal with a wave of his fan.

“I was once,” the man says. “Centuries ago.”

“You’re a god,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

The man smiles, and for a moment, he looks younger than they are, despite his claim. “Not a particularly good one, I’m afraid.”

“Then isn’t your job to protect people? Why did you lock us in here with the monsters?” Wei Wuxian stomps closer, and Lan Wangji barely resists yanking him back. This is a god.

“I had no choice.”

“Pretty shitty choice.”

The man—or god—looks almost abashed, but then he sighs, long and deep. “Let us begin again: I am Tao Zongying, though those who visit my temples call me by other titles.”

“Storm Master,” Lan Wangji murmurs. He has seen some of these temples. They’re especially common along the coast so that fishermen may make offerings for calm winds.

Tao Zongying nods. “That is one of them. I’m partial to ‘Lightning Lord.’”

“Fuck,” Wei Wuxian whispers and steps back onto Lan Wangji’s toes. The Lightning Lord snorts laughter as Lan Wangji winces and pushes Wei Wuxian off his boot.

Tao Zongying leads them through the mist by parting it with a flick of his fan. Once they are past it, he halts beside the creek and gestures toward a fallen tree trunk. “I will tell you the story so that you will understand that further action is futile. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable.”

Lan Wangji looks to Wei Wuxian, who shrugs. They settle onto the tree trunk.

Tao Zongying stares up at the sky, perhaps calculating how much time he has to tell his tale before the sun sets. Or perhaps he’s just being theatrical. Then he snaps open his fan and starts to talk:

“The temple you have taken as your home was dedicated to me. A humble attempt, certainly, but the villagers were quite devoted. Surprising to find such ardent followers in such a small village. Rustics generally prefer gentle rains to blowing tempests. But though a storm may be destructive, it still inspires awe.”

“This is going to take all day,” Wei Wuxian mutters. Not very quietly given the sharp glance Tao Zongying sends them.

“Anyway,” Tao Zongying drawls, “the village was decimated by plague, and those who survived fled. The village rotted, empty and forgotten, until it once again served a purpose.”

“Feeding monsters?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Or do you just enjoy keeping humans as pets?”

Tao Zongying scowls. “If you would stop interrupting . . .?”

Wei Wuxian throws up his hands and sighs.

“Though perhaps I am delaying,” Tao Zongying mutters. “I have not spoken of this for so long.”

The god’s brow pinches as he stares down at the ground. Listening to him speak, it is difficult to believe this young man is hundreds of years old. He looks like a handsome young aristocrat, someone who spends his days inside a palace sipping wine and reading poetry. He hardly fits the image Lan Wangji had envisioned of their malevolent “caretaker.”

“Have either of you heard of Ren Xiaotong?” Tao Zongying asks, jarring Lan Wangji from his study of the god’s youthful face.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, but Wei Wuxian perks up. “The demon? What was it, uh, Bloody Morning?”

“Sorrow at Dawn,” Tao Zongying says softly. “Though he also has many titles.”

Wei Wuxian nods and leans forward, suddenly interested, but Lan Wangji does not like where this story is leading. He has heard that title before—perhaps in a folksong or a poem.

Tao Zongying continues his tale before Lan Wangji’s memory can dredge up the rest. “Ren Xiaotong ascended to the heavens soon after I did, and we became friends. However, his curiosity—and his temper—led him down dark paths, and he was banished to live as a mortal. I will spare you the account of his deeds—”

Wei Wuxian bumps Lan Wangji’s arm and says, “He was stealing souls.”

Tao Zongying sighs, long and annoyed. Despite his horror, Lan Wangji smirks. It is nice to witness Wei Wuxian’s more abrasive tendencies pointed in another direction.

“As you say,” Tao Zongying snaps. “However, Ren Xiaotong was infuriated by the council’s decision, so—”

“Yeah, yeah, he swore vengeance and became a demon,” Wei Wuxian says, spinning the dizi in petulant circles. “Get to the part where he’s the reason we’re stuck here.”

Wei Wuxian and Tao Zongying glare at each other for a few moments, the dizi and the fan competing to express more irritation. Tao Zongying breaks first, of course.

“Ren Xiaotong became a demon so powerful that none of the gods could defeat him,” Tao Zongying says through gritted teeth. “He had refined a method of harvesting souls that made him invulnerable, and he amassed an army of creatures to conduct the harvest—you’re quite familiar with those.”

“So you trapped him here,” Wei Wuxian says. His voice is bland, but his fingers are tight on the dizi. Lan Wangji’s eyes snap to the hollow tree as if the demon will suddenly burst from it.

“It was the only option,” Tao Zongying argues. “In his fury, Xiaotong sought to destroy the world, to enslave every living soul, as well as bring down the heavens.”

Wei Wuxian hops off the tree trunk and starts pacing. “Okay, I get it. Big powerful demon and his army of nearly indestructible minions. You had to stick them somewhere.” He stops pacing and points the dizi at the god. “But why are we here? Why keep feeding him souls?”

“Because Ren Xiaotong and I struck a bargain.” Tao Zongying tucks his hands behind his back and doesn’t meet their eyes. “He is trapped here, to an extent. However, if he chose to break free, it is unlikely that I—or anyone—could stop him.”

Lan Wangji rises and moves to stand beside Wei Wuxian, and they both stare incredulously at the god. “Are you saying that the demon chooses to remain here?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian huffs. “You just asked him nicely? Please stop destroying the world and go live under a hollow tree?”

“Something like that,” Tao Zongying mumbles. He clears his throat and lifts his chin. “Our bargain was that if he agreed to relent in his ambition, I would . . . provide him with a certain number of souls per year.”

“So he’s evil and lazy?” Wei Wuxian says, grinning maliciously.

Lightning flickers in Tao Zongying’s eyes before he turns away. Lan Wangji lays a hand on Wei Wuxian’s arm and gives him a look which he hopes communicates that it may be unwise to anger a god. Wei Wuxian sighs and ducks his chin: I’ll try to play nice.

“For the first few decades,” Tao Zongying says, his voice smooth and haughty, “I let myself believe that my old friend still possessed reason, that perhaps some small part of him wanted to atone. His treatment of mortals was abhorrent, but I did not believe that he ever acted from malice. He was always so curious, so dedicated to invention and discovery. I thought that given enough time to reflect, he would come to regret his actions and accept his punishment.”

Tao Zongying falls quiet and bows his head. When he speaks again, his voice is rough. “But I was wrong. Xiaotong did not agree to the bargain because he was repentant. He agreed because he could accept his own suffering as long as I suffered with him. He wanted to make me just as monstrous as he is. Perhaps he even thought I would become corrupted if I spent years delivering souls to him. Perhaps he was right.”

Wei Wuxian shifts closer, and Lan Wangji takes his hand like they are children listening to a ghost story. Wei Wuxian squeezes his fingers, and it is comforting enough that Lan Wangji no longer cares how silly they might look.

“It has to end,” Wei Wuxian calls softly, even kindly. “You must understand that. This is no solution.”

Tao Zongying whirls around to face them in, and wind rushes toward them. “No, you don’t understand! If he gets out, the world is doomed! What I’ve done here is abominable—I know that—but it is for the greater good.”

“If he is as powerful as you say, then he will escape eventually,” Lan Wangji says.

“He has been trapped for centuries!” Tao Zongying shouts. “Centuries in which people have lived because he is trapped! Do you wish to doom the entire world to save a few dozen?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “He hasn’t eaten much lately. Maybe he’s gotten weaker.”

“Regardless,” Lan Wangji says, “the decision is not yours. You may be a god, but it is not for you to decide which lives matter more.”

“It is when all lives are at stake!” Tao Zongying throws his hands in the air, and thunder shakes above them. “All the gods in the heavens couldn’t defeat him! This is the only way!”

“Or maybe you just need to believe that to absolve yourself,” Wei Wuxian says. The words are harsh, but his tone is mild.

Tao Zongying shoots him a sulky look unbefitting an immortal but doesn’t argue.

Wei Wuxian releases Lan Wangji’s hand and steps forward. “I think that you want this to end, too. That’s why you brought us here.”

Tao Zongying huffs. “I hardly suspected you’d be quite so effective.”

Wei Wuxian grins and salutes him. “This mortal thanks the Lord of Lightning for his praise.”

The Lord of Lightning rolls his eyes. “I will consider what you have said. In the meantime, please do not throw yourselves into the tree again.”

Lan Wangji salutes him more sincerely than Wei Wuxian did. “Thank you. And thank you for your assistance in the cavern.”

Tao Zongying inclines his head and starts walking away.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian calls, “can we strike a bargain?”

Tao Zongying turns back, eyebrows incredulously high.

Wei Wuxian grins. “While you’re thinking it over, how about you agree not to let anyone new into the village.”

Tao Zongying sighs and nods. “Agreed.”

Then the god vanishes in a flurry of wind and light. Perhaps he feared Wei Wuxian would add more conditions if he left by more pedestrian means.

They watch the leaves stirred by Tao Zongying’s exit settle back to the earth. Then Wei Wuxian turns to him and grins. “A god! Lan Zhan, we just talked to an actual god!”

“Not a particularly good one,” Lan Wangji mutters, and tugs Wei Wuxian back toward the village.

When they burst into the infirmary, Wen Qing pauses her herb grinding and raises an eyebrow.

“Is A-Ning here?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Wen Qing casts her eyes around the empty room. “Obviously not. Why?”

“Good.” Wei Wuxian drops the bolt on the door and tugs Lan Wangji over to the bench. “Because you’re never going to believe who we just met!”

They tell their tale—mostly narrated by Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji contributing the portion Wei Wuxian missed while he was unconscious. Wen Qing listens with her usual impassivity, though she does become quite pallid by the end.

When Wei Wuxian’s words dry up, Wen Qing produces a jar of wine and pours cups for herself and Wei Wuxian, then water for Lan Wangji. She still says nothing.

“So,” Wei Wuxian says after he’s emptied the cup, “We need to find a way down there that doesn’t leave us powerless.”

“It would be wise to eliminate the creatures first,” Lan Wangji points out.

Wei Wuxian nods as he refills his cup. “Good point. We could lure them out. Maybe I could make a net big enough to trap all of them. Or a lot of smaller nets?”

While they discuss, Wen Qing drinks a cup of wine. “A demon,” she mutters.

“Yep,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Ren Xiaotong. Do you know anything about him?”

She shakes her head.

“Yeah, I don’t know much either. Maybe we—”

“You should take his offer,” Wen Qing says.

They both gape at her. “What?” Wei Wuxian finally sputters.

Wen Qing folds her hands and fixes her eyes on the table. “This god offered to set the two of you free. You should let him.”

“Yeah right,” Wei Wuxian huffs. “Do you really think we’d just abandon all of you?”

She finally raises her eyes to them. There is a terror there that Lan Wangji has never seen, not even when the creatures spoke through her brother. “If you get out,” she says, “then you can find help. Hanguang Jun, would your sect aid us?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, “but we cannot leave you behind.”

“We can manage without you for a little while,” she says. “We would still have the talismans.”

Wei Wuxian leaps up and slams his fists on the table. “We are not leaving!” He turns to Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji nods.

Wen Qing sighs and rights the bottles Wei Wuxian knocked over. “Wei Wuxian, you can’t defeat a demon.”

Wei Wuxian scowls. “You don’t know that.”

“Even this Lightning Lord couldn’t do it, but you can?” She rolls her eyes.

“So we shouldn’t even try?” Wei Wuxian throws his hands in the air. “Then we might as well throw open the doors and let them eat us.”

“We have survived here for months,” Wen Qing argues. “There is no reason to throw your lives away.”

“Survival isn’t enough.” Wei Wuxian sighs and slumps back down onto the bench. “A-Yuan cannot spend the rest of his life in this cage.”

None of them speaks for several moments. Then Lan Wangji says, “Tao Zongying may agree to aid us. We should give him time to consider before we act.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “Yeah, he might come around. Or maybe he and that demon will kill each other and save us the trouble.”

Wei Wuxian pushes off the bench, and Lan Wangji follows him to the door. Wei Wuxian pauses there and turns back to Wen Qing. “We probably shouldn’t talk about this around A-Ning,” Wei Wuxian says. “You know, just in case . . .”

“In case the connection with the creatures goes both ways,” Wen Qing finishes. She inclines her head. “I understand.”

Wei Wuxian nods back, and they leave the infirmary.

Back in the street, Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian. “How did you learn of Ren Xiaotong?”

“Shifu. He was even before her time, though.”

“I believe I have heard his title before. Perhaps in a folksong.”

“Oh yeah?”

Lan Wangji nods. “If I am correct, then someone with knowledge of folksongs may know more. We should visit the teahouse.”

Wei Wuxian grins and slaps his shoulder. “Great idea, Lan Zhan! Let’s go talk to old Bai.”

They find Bai Juyi in his usual spot outside the teahouse. When Lan Wangji makes his inquiry, Bai Juyi nods.

“No one has requested to hear about that old demon in years,” Bai Juyi says as he lifts the ever-present pipa onto his lap. “Let’s hope I remember it.”

“We don’t need to hear the song,” Wei Wuxian says. “You could just tell us what you remember.”

The old man smiles as he strums the strings. “The only way to tell a story is to tell the story.”

Then he starts to sing. Lan Wangji closes his eyes to listen more effectively. Most of the song’s plot matches what Tao Zongying told them. However, in this tale, the god and demon’s relationship is the focus—a woeful tale of intimacy destroyed by betrayal. However, Bai Juyi’s song ends with the demon defeated by the god. There is no mention of their prison.

Bai Juyi ends the song. “Well, that’s it. Or close enough, I suppose.”

“It almost sounds like a doomed romance,” Wei Wuxian says.

Bai Juyi shrugs. “Maybe it was. Or maybe the storytellers added that for more poignancy.” He winks. “They’ve been known to do that, you know.”

Lan Wangji salutes him. “Thank you, qianbei.”

Bai Juyi nods back at their salutes, then returns to his usual repose as they leave the teahouse. He never asked why they are suddenly interested in tales of demons.

Wei Wuxian is quiet during the return to the temple, and remains quiet as they settle inside. Lan Wangji makes tea and lets Wei Wuxian think in peace. While they drink, Lan Wangji says, “You should rest. You spent considerable energy today.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Wei Wuxian taps his forehead in the same place Tao Zongying touched him. “Whatever he did fixed me up. I’m not even tired.”

Lan Wangji nods. He is tired, but then the god did not offer to heal him. At dusk, they conduct the nightly warning, then cook and eat the evening meal. Wei Wuxian speaks little. Once the dishes are clean, they sit at the table, and Lan Wangji begins recording the day’s events in his book. Wei Wuxian drinks wine and still remains quiet.

While Lan Wangji is writing about the underground battle, Wei Wuxian mutters, “Maybe you should go.”

Lan Wangji looks up, confused about where Wei Wuxian thinks he should be going after dark. Then he understands.

“No.” He bends back to his record.

“Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji tightens his grip on the brush and keeps writing.

Wei Wuxian stretches across the table and shakes the book. “Lan Zhan, look at me.”

Sighing, Lan Wangji lays down the book and meets Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

“Wen Qing has a point,” Wei Wuxian says. “If you can get home, then you can bring back help, right?”

“I am not leaving.”

Wei Wuxian proceeds as if he didn’t hear. “And there must be books at Cloud Recesses that can tell us more about this demon than Bai Juyi’s love story did. And maybe something to help us break whatever wards are down there—”

“No,” Lan Wangji snaps. Wei Wuxian draws back, frowning. “I apologize,” Lan Wangji says, “but you said yourself that this village can choose not to be found. Or I suppose Tao Zongying chooses to hide it. Regardless, it is almost certain that if I left, I would be unable to return.”

Given the look on Wei Wuxian’s face, he was well aware of that. “We don’t know that for sure,” Wei Wuxian mutters.

“I will not risk it.”

Wei Wuxian sighs and toys with his wine cup. “It’s a risk either way, isn’t it? At least if you left—”

Lan Wangji moves beside him and grips his hand. “I will not leave. I will not leave you.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles weakly and stares down at his hand in Lan Wangji’s grip. “Lan Zhan. So fierce.”

“Do not ask me to abandon you again.”

Wei Wuxian sighs and wiggles closer. “There are people out there who miss you, Lan Zhan. There’s a whole world that needs your help.”

“And here, there is Wei Ying. I will stay.”

Whatever Wei Wuxian thinks about that admission, Lan Wangji does not regret making it, not when his own feelings are so clear, so certain. Whether or not Wei Wuxian feels the same would not affect this decision.

Wei Wuxian groans and pushes into his lap. “You are too stubborn, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs against his throat.

“So I am often told.”

The argument ends in the best manner: Wei Wuxian rising and falling in his lap, throwing back his head and moaning desperately.

Afterwards, Lan Wangji carries him to the pallets where Wei Wuxian curls around him and falls asleep with his head over Lan Wangji’s heart. Lan Wangji strokes his hair as sleep comes for him.

Freedom or this. That is no choice.

Chapter Text

The western woods

He Minhui hurries through the trees, not quite running. She peers up at the round moon through the dark branches. All of her instincts scream at her to run, but she can’t. If she runs, she’ll just trip on another damned tree root.

And then they’ll have her.

Already, she hears them. Below the chirping crickets and whispering leaves, the monsters’ laughter creeps after her.

But they’re slow. They act like they have all the time in the world, like cats toying with mice. She can get away. She just has to—

A twig cracks behind her. She snaps her head around to look and smacks right into a tree.

“Stupid,” she hisses to herself as she keeps walking, rubbing the sore spot on her head. There was nothing behind her. It was probably just that deer she tried to shoot yesterday. The monsters can’t be that close yet. She just has to keep her wits about her. Just a little farther.

The laughter is louder now. Sometimes movement from the shadows makes her jump, but when she looks, there’s no one there. Like wolves, she thinks. Wolves hide and surround their prey. They wait until they know the deer is trapped before they pounce.

She shivers and stamps down on the urge to run. Alone in the dark, it’s hard to remember why running is a bad idea.

Then she reaches the clearing where Wei Wuxian and Hanguang Jun come to spar. She and Xiao-Chou hid in the trees to watch them a few times. It’s amazing what they can do. They leap through the treetops and shoot light from their swords. She’d give anything to be that powerful. Though the last time she and Xiao-Chou came to watch, they saw a lot more than they expected. Even now, hunted by monsters, her face heats when she remembers that sight. Xiao-Chou is still laughing about it.

But tonight, the clearing is empty.

Or is it?

She stops walking and squints at the shape on the far side of the clearing. Then the clouds part, and the moon shines down.

“No,” she whispers, stumbling back.

The monster smiles as it walks toward her. The moonlight beams down on her brother’s face.

“Are you lost, mei-mei?” the monster asks.

“You’re not him,” she mutters, still backing away. The monster follows, grinning like they’re playing a game. So many times, she’s seen monsters wearing his face, but it never stops hurting.

The monster tilts his head and smiles wider. “Don’t you know me, mei-mei?”

“Stop it!” She stops running and stomps her foot at the monster. “Take it off! Take off his face!”

The monster giggles. Her gege never fucking giggled. Claws sprout from his fingers and rake down his cheeks, digging furrows and spilling blood that looks black in the moonlight. “Is that better?”

“Yeah.” She smirks and reaches inside her robe. For a second, she can’t find the paper, but then it’s there, crinkling under her fingers. It almost rips when she pulls it free. She twitches her fingers like Wei Wuxian taught her, and the talisman flies toward the monster.

The gold cage forms around the monster just like it did when they practiced. The monster snarls and throws himself against it, but he just bounces off the net.

He Minhui laughs and crosses her arms as she watches the monster hop around like a caged chicken. This is definitely worth the scary walk through the woods.

Hanguang Jun floats down beside her and studies the monster in the cage. Even though she knew he was there the whole time, it’s still a relief to see him and his shiny sword.

“I make pretty good bait, huh?”

He turns to her and nods. “You were very brave.”

Her face is so hot that her cheeks are probably glowing in the dark. If Hanguang Jun notices her blushing, he doesn’t mention it. Not that he would. He’s too polite.

Hanguang Jun does something with his hand that makes the net tighten around the monster, then starts dragging the net out of the clearing. He Minhui trots to catch up. “Do you think we can get them all tonight?” she asks.

Hanguang Jun hums, which she’s figured out means yes. Most of the time, anyway.

“Hey, so I’m the best at the talismans, right? Shouldn’t I come help you and Wei Wuxian with the others?”

Hanguang Jun doesn’t say anything at first, but sometimes it takes a while for him to answer. Wei Wuxian says he’s a deep thinker. More like a long thinker.

“We may require your help,” Hanguang Jun says after several seconds. “However, you should return to Zhou Siyun first. She is quite concerned.”

He Minhui sighs. “Fine, but I want to watch these assholes fry at sunrise.”

Maybe it’s a trick of the shadows, but she thinks Hanguang Jun actually smiles.

The eastern woods

Wen Bingyun grunts when Feng Yan steps on his foot for the second time. “Look out, you old fool,” he hisses.

“How can I look out when it’s so damned dark?” Feng Yan hisses back.

“Maybe watch where you’re going instead of looking behind you every two seconds?”

Feng Yan huffs but keeps his nose pointed forward—for the time being. “I’d forgotten how dark the woods get at night.”

Wen Bingyun snorts, but Feng Yan has a point. There was a time he could’ve trotted through any forest, day or night, but now it’s been months since he’s stepped foot outside after dark. Or maybe he’s just getting old.

“Do you hear them yet?” Feng Yan whispers. He’s looking behind them again. He’s worse than a kid. Wen Bingyun is beginning to regret agreeing to partner with him. He would’ve been better off with Xiao-Chou.

“Yeah, can’t you?” That damn whispering started up practically as soon as they entered the woods. And these monsters aren’t careful about where they step. Twigs have been snapping all around them.

“Where?” Feng Yan swivels his head back and stamps on Wen Bingyun’s foot again.

Wen Bingyun shoves him off. “Calm down. What’re you so worried about?” He points up at the darker shadow that’s following them from the treetops. A chipper trill comes from that shadow: Wei Wuxian telling them he’s still there.

“I know, I know,” Feng Yan mutters. “I just want to get this over with.”

Another twig breaks close behind them. They turn to watch the first monster emerge from the trees. Wen Bingyun winces when he recognizes the face.

Song Quan grins as she prowls closer. “Are you gentlemen lost?”

“Damn,” Feng Yan grunts. “Why’d it have to be her?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Wen Bingyun says as he pulls a talisman from his robe. “Let’s get this done.”

The teahouse

Bai Juyi smiles as he watches the monsters converge on the teahouse like they’re drawn to his music. He recognizes all of their faces, but he keeps smiling and strumming as Duan Yiran and Xiao-Chou cast their nets. It is always a joy to see old friends again, no matter the circumstances.

Hong Luo’s farm

Chao-Chao comes pelting down the path so fast that Hong Luo almost doesn’t recognize him quickly enough. Just in time, he spots the skinny braid Chao-Chao always wears and stuffs the talisman back in his robe.

“They’re coming!” Chao-Chao gasps as he skids to a stop beside Hong Luo and Shao Huian.

“Yeah, we figured as much,” Hong Luo says. He hopes they can’t tell how close he is to pissing his pants.

Lil Apple brays from her stable as the monsters stroll down the path.

“We should let that donkey fight them,” Shao Huian says, grinning like a fool. Always something smart to say about Lil Apple. That’s rich coming from a man who dotes after those horses like they’re his children.

“She’d probably do better than you,” Hong Luo mutters.

The monsters laugh like that’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

Hao-laoshi’s house

The children turn to the door as howling begins outside. Wen Yuan and Chen Jiao huddle closer to Wen Yasheng. “There’s nothing to fear,” Hao-laoshi tells them. “Ying-er, keep playing.”

The girl nods and goes back to playing the dizi that Wei Wuxian carved for her. She’s terrible, but the screeching dizi drowns out the howls.

The temple

Lan Wangji tosses the most recent catch onto the pile of wriggling monsters and joins Wei Wuxian on the temple’s porch. “How many do you think are left?”

Wei Wuxian twirls the dizi while flicking his nose. “Can’t be many. Where did that one come from?”

“Gao Xiurong’s group,” Lan Wangji says, nodding toward the women who have gathered near their prize. Except for He Minhui, Gao Xiurong performed best with the talismans during training. And she is as brave as her husband is cowardly.

“We were lucky to get her,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Unfortunate that she brought her husband.”

“Lan Zhan, you can certainly hold a grudge.” Wei Wuxian grins and knocks their shoulders together.

Wen Qing steps out of the temple and surveys the pile of creatures and the villagers milling in the street. She sedated Wen Ning earlier, and they bound him with every rope and chain they could find, but she must still stay close to him.

“Is everyone accounted for?” she asks.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leap onto the porch’s roof to count the villagers. “Hong Luo is missing,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Chao-Chao, where’s Hong Luo?”

Chao-Chao points down the street. “In the teahouse!” he shouts back. “He said he needed a drink!”

Several of the villagers laugh. The atmosphere below is almost festive despite the monsters squirming in the nets. Or maybe because of the monsters. Whether or not the night will prove victorious, these people have a right to be cheerful. They have fought their fear and accomplished a great deal.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian rejoin Wen Qing on the porch. “All good,” Wei Wuxian tells her.

“And the nets?” she asks. “Do we still have enough?”

They made dozens of talismans, but there is no way to be sure given that they do not know how many creatures the demon keeps. Still, they both nod.

“Good,” she says. “Now we’ll see if—”

Someone screams. The crowd rustles and draws in, pressing together like spooked sheep.

“Back inside,” Wei Wuxian says, and pushes Wen Qing toward the door.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leap toward the source of the scream. Tonight, lanterns blaze around the village, and they chose a night when the moon would provide as much light as possible. Therefore, it is easy to see the monsters coming for them. At least two dozen, marching down the street like soldiers. Except soldiers do not smile with razor grins.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian move in front of the frightened villagers. “Damn,” Wei Wuxian mutters as they watch the creatures advance.

There are more than they expected, but not more than they can deal with. Hopefully.

Wei Wuxian turns to the villagers. “Stick close to your partners!” he shouts. “Fall back if you’re low on talismans! There are more in the temple when you need them!”

He moves back to Lan Wangji’s side and raises the dizi. The creatures’ faces keep shifting from person to person, as if they can’t decide whose horrible memory to pick.

“To the rooftop,” Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian as he draws his sword. “You are not needed yet.”

Wei Wuxian snorts and pokes him with the dizi. “Fine. Have fun, Lan Zhan.”

He sails up, but Lan Wangji does not watch him go because the first creature is in striking distance. His sword flashes, and his mother’s arm drops to the ground.

“Get those bastards!” Wei Wuxian yells from his perch.

The villagers roar back to him and rush forward. Talismans whip past Lan Wangji’s head, and golden nets drop over the creatures’ heads.

Soon the battle is a surging mass of snarling creatures and tangled nets. The dizi plays above them as Lan Wangji leaps among the villagers, but they have little need of him. They are driven by hate, by months of fear and deprivation, and they bellow in triumph as they capture creature after creature.

A monstrous yowl makes him whip around and raise his sword, but the yowl comes from Zhi Xia, who has trapped a creature and now prances around it, laughing and kicking at the creature under the net. Wen Bingyun catches her arm and swings her around, laughing just as manically. Together, they dance around the creature like young lovers at a festival.

A shout for help draws Lan Wangji away from their celebration. He takes the legs from the two creatures Xiao-Chou was trying to trap, then aids He Minhui in untangling Xiao-Chou from his own net.

When that is done, he searches for his next task, but everyone left standing is a villager. Even the dizi has stopped playing.

He flies up to join Wei Wuxian on the roof. “Did any escape?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian wipes blood from his upper lip and shakes his head. “Not that I saw. Just look at all of them.”

Lan Wangji looks where the dizi is pointing. From up here, the street looks as if giant zokors have been burrowing under it. In each of the golden humps, creatures writhe and snarl.

Wei Wuxian laughs and leans against him. “We’re going to have one hell of a bonfire.”

Most of the villagers choose to linger around the nets to wait for sunrise. Wen Qing walks among them checking for injuries, but the worst is a few scratches—and the bruised foot that Wen Bingyun keeps complaining about. Duan Yiran and Gao Xiurong also move about to distribute water and steamed buns.

Lan Wangji thanks Gao Xiurong as he accepts his cup of water. “Where is Xiao-Chou? Was he injured?”

Gao Xiurong snorts and leans closer to whisper, “He snuck off with Minhui. Don’t tell Yiran.”

Lan Wangji ducks his head to hide his blushing ears, and Wei Wuxian cackles. “Good for them!” Wei Wuxian cheers.

The mood around the captured creatures has not diminished despite the late hour. Part of that is due to the “good wine,” as Wei Wuxian calls it, that Wen Bingyun is sharing. Plenty of Xiao-Chou’s inferior wine is also in evidence. But mainly, the jubilation comes from the successful battle.

As the sun rises and the creatures begin to burn, Lan Wangji watches the villagers cheer and hopes that the demon’s reprisal will be worth this victory.

The next evening, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian walk through the village ringing the bell.

“This is probably a waste of time,” Wei Wuxian says, but he is cheerful, bouncing at Lan Wangji’s side.

“It is best to be cautious.”

“Very sensible,” Wei Wuxian agrees, nodding solemnly with only a tiny smirk.

Lan Wangji rolls his eyes and rings the bell harder. The villagers seem to agree with him, at least. The only person they’ve seen outside is Bai Juyi in his usual place on the teahouse’s porch.

However, someone else is waiting on their porch when they return to the temple, and the god does not look pleased.

“I thought we agreed that you should stand down,” Tao Zongying hisses.

“We did?” Wei Wuxian says. He raises an eyebrow at Lan Wangji. “I don’t remember that. Do you, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji tucks his arm behind his back and lifts his chin. “I do not.”

Tao Zongying points his fan at the charred spots in the street. “So you did this? Did you listen to nothing I said?”

“You asked us not to enter the tree again,” Lan Wangji says. “You said nothing of the creatures.”

Lightning crackles across Tao Zongying’s robes as the god’s face turns violet. “Take care, young Lan,” he says, and thunder rolls under his words. “It is one thing to test me. It is quite another to strike at Ren Xiaotong.”

“Well, now that we have your attention,” Wei Wuxian says, ignoring the god’s ominous display. “You said you were going to think about putting an end to all this, but we haven’t seen you in days. If you’re so worried about how the demon is going to react to his creatures burning up, you could just let us all go.”

Tao Zongying huffs. “And be responsible for releasing a scourge upon the world? Do you want that on your conscience?”

“Then help us fight him,” Wei Wuxian says. “Or at least get rid of whatever wards are down there so we’ll have a shot at beating him.”

“You cannot beat him!” Tao Zongying shouts. “You would only be going to your deaths, even if I did remove the wards!”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “Then I guess we’ll just wait here for him to come kill us. How will your conscience like that?”

Tao Zongying gapes at him like Wei Wuxian has suddenly sprouted tentacles.

“We are mortal,” Lan Wangji says into the ringing silence. “For us, each day is precious. Please do not tarry too long in your decision.” He bends into a salute, and when he rises again, the god has vanished.

Life in the village continues much the same as it did before the battle except that their nights are no longer plagued by creatures. The talismans stay on the doors, and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian patrol every night, but so far, their caution has been unnecessary. Some of the villagers even begin to venture out at after dark, mostly to the teahouse.

The first few days after the battle were jubilant, but when the invisible barrier remains around the village, many people become restless. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have started avoiding the teahouse lest they be surrounded by villagers demanding to know when they can leave.

Although that is aggravating, Lan Wangji understands their impatience. He had expected Ren Xiaotong to act when his creatures were destroyed. The lack of response only heightens the suspense. Lan Wangji isn’t disappointed that the demon has failed to destroy them, but neither is he pleased with waiting to be destroyed.

“Maybe I was right,” Wei Wuxian says as they discuss how to proceed. They have spent every night discussing this without reaching any conclusions. “Maybe without his creatures to grab souls for him, the demon’s too weak to do anything.”

“If it were that simple, Tao Zongying could have ceased bringing people to the village and defeated the demon himself,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian scowls and slumps over the table. “Well, maybe he just didn’t think of it.”

Or he did not wish to. Tao Zongying has yet to return, and Lan Wangji’s opinion of the god has not improved during his long absence. He would not be surprised if their “caretaker” has abandoned them entirely.

“We have to go down there, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “We have to try something.”

Wei Wuxian is right: they cannot simply wait for release or destruction. Even if they have no hope of defeating the demon, they must try. But it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that he could find such happiness only to lose it.

But what happiness can there be if they are eternally bound here, each day expecting their doom to fall? Knowing they could have helped the people here if they had only tried, if they were not too cowardly to make a stand? How can he expect Wei Wuxian to be content here forever, sharing the floor of a drafty temple, never climbing another mountain or sampling a new wine?

Lan Wangji reaches across the table and takes Wei Wuxian’s hand. “We will try.”

So decided, they begin preparations. Although they do not speak of it, they both know that it is unlikely that they will return, and they do not wish to leave the villagers unprotected. Since they had already begun to teach some of the villagers how to make talismans, there is no suspicion when they distribute paper and demonstrate the protection designs Wei Wuxian created. Gao Xiurong and Hao-laoshi excel at drawing sigils, and Wen Qing and Wen Ning are experienced enough to guide them. None of that may matter if the demon comes himself, but it is all they can think to do.

Wen Qing is the only person they tell of their plan, such as it is. She does not protest even though she clearly disapproves. And she supplies them with energy restoratives. “Not that you’ll have a chance to use them when the demon kills you,” she hisses as she stomps back to the kitchen.

They take A-Yuan flying and eat at the teahouse with He Minhui and Wen Ning. During the meal, Wei Wuxian teases He Minhui about Xiao-Chou until she says, “Have you and Hanguang Jun sparred in the woods lately? It was so educational watching you handle your swords.” Wei Wuxian snaps his mouth shut, and Lan Wangji ducks his head to hide his burning ears.

Too quickly, the last night arrives. After the meal, Lan Wangji settles at the dining table to sharpen his sword, but Wei Wuxian grabs his hand and pulls him off the cushion.

“Come on, Lan Zhan,” he chides. “Your sword is sharp enough, and I’ve got something much more fun in mind.”

As Wei Wuxian draws him outside into the night, Lan Wangji says, “I do not think that going to the roof would be wise.”

Wei Wuxian snorts and keeps tugging. “I know, it’s a shame. We’ll just have to make do.”

They walk behind the temple, and Wei Wuxian sprawls on his back in the grass. Lan Wangji stands above him and raises an eyebrow. “Silencing talismans will not be effective out here.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and stretches his hand up to tug at Lan Wangji’s skirt. “You have a dirty mind, Hanguang Jun. Come down here and admire the moon with me.”

Lan Wangji joins him in the grass, and they stare up at the night sky. Tonight, the moon is only a sliver, but the stars shine bright. At least they have won this much. At least Wei Wuxian has one last chance to lie in the starlight.

Wei Wuxian sighs and twists onto his side. “I can feel you worrying.”

“No, you cannot.”

“Oh really? Then what were you thinking about just now?”

“I was watching for falling stars.”

Wei Wuxian snorts and pokes his ribs. “I thought your sect had rules about lying.”

Lan Wangji surrenders and lets his head fall to the side. “I was worrying and watching for falling stars.”

“It’s just one little demon, Lan Zhan. How hard could it be?”

“That is not what worries me.” What worries him is the thought of never seeing this grin again.

The grin sweetens to a fond smile. “I know,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “It’s harder when you have something to lose. Something important.”

Lan Wangji nods and gazes back at him. No night sky can compare to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian wiggles closer and splays an arm over his chest. “I think you’re even prettier in the moonlight, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji strokes Wei Wuxian’s hair and watches the stars glint in his eyes until Wei Wuxian hides his face against his chest.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe you’re really here,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. “The day you arrived, I thought I must be dreaming.”

“Is that why you pretended not to know me?”

“What was I supposed to do? The prettiest man in the world walks into my cursed village, and I have to tell him that he’s trapped with a bunch of monsters? I was so nervous!”

Lan Wangji breathes a laugh. “Am I so pretty?”

Wei Wuxian raises his head to glare. “Stop fishing for compliments. You know how pretty you are.”

“Wei Ying is also very pretty.”

Even in the scant moonlight, it’s easy to see Wei Wuxian’s cheeks flush before he once again hides his face against Lan Wangji’s chest. Although Wei Wuxian flirts shamelessly, compliments torment him. “He is especially pretty in the moonlight,” Lan Wangji adds.

Wei Wuxian groans. “Shameless, Lan Zhan.”

“There is no shame in telling Wei Ying how pretty he is.”

Wei Wuxian laughs at that, then falls quiet and traces his fingertip along Lan Wangji’s lapel.

Lying silent in the grass is peaceful despite what looms ahead tomorrow. In moments like this, Lan Wangji barely recognizes himself. He had never thought to find someone with whom he could enjoy talking and teasing, but it is these contented silences that truly amaze him. Before he came to this village, he thought he enjoyed quiet and serenity, but now he knows how much richer such moments are when shared with someone. Most of all, he loves that he can offer this peace to Wei Wuxian, who endured here alone for so long, stretching himself thin to protect the villagers.

“I wanted you the first time I saw you,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “That day in Caiyi, I followed you around all day, hoping to hear your voice.” He peeks at Lan Wangji and grins. “And I still never heard you say anything.”

“You followed me?”

Wei Wuxian hums a yes and draws patterns on his chest. “I wasn’t brave enough to get close, though.”

“Why not?”

“You looked so untouchable. Like a pristine pearl, all robed in white, face cold as ice.” Wei Wuxian wiggles his fingers under Lan Wangji’s robe and smirks. “I should’ve known you’d burn hot under that frosty surface.”

Lan Wangji ignores this for the moment, too stunned by Wei Wuxian’s confession even to blush. “You should have spoken to me.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Oh yeah? What would you have done if some nobody came bounding up to you on the street?”

“I would have thought you were beautiful.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fly to him, round with surprise. “Yeah?”

“Mn. You would have smiled, and it would have taken my breath.”

“Breathless, huh?”

“Yes.” Lan Wangji strokes the crinkles that appear beside Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he smiles. “But I would not have known what to say. You would have thought I was rude.”

The crinkles deepen, and Wei Wuxian curls around him tighter. “Maybe. Or maybe I would’ve talked enough for both of us.”

Lan Wangji smiles back at him. “Quite possibly.”

“You would’ve thought I was annoying.”

“Perhaps, but I would have been wrong.”

“Good thing we met each other here, then.”

“It is. It is a very good thing.”

Lan Wangji stretches up to meet Wei Wuxian’s kiss, but his mind whirls. If only that were true. If only he could go back to that day in Caiyi—he could turn and catch a beautiful cultivator in black following him. He could let himself be dazzled by the man’s smile and be charmed into taking a meal together at a tavern. From there, infinite possibilities unfurl. But here—here they are forced onto one path. Here, they are forced to finish someone else’s story and to pay the price for someone else’s sin.

If their story ends tomorrow, he will make the most of tonight. He rolls Wei Wuxian onto his back and rises up to untie his ribbon. But when the ribbon lies curled in his palm, he can only stare down at it, heart pounding.

“Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian pushes up and lays a hand on his knee.

Lan Wangji looks from the ribbon to Wei Wuxian. What use is fear now?

“Nothing is wrong,” he says. He reaches for Wei Wuxian’s hand and starts winding the ribbon around his wrist. Wei Wuxian is perfectly silent and still while Lan Wangji binds his wrist.

When the knot is tied, Lan Wangji releases his hand. “I never told you what this ribbon signifies.”

“I know what it means,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice just a shadow. He looks up to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes and trembles a smile. “I told you: Shifu knows a lot about your sect.”

“Good,” Lan Wangji croaks. “Then you understand.”

Wei Wuxian nods and cradles his bound wrist against his chest. “But Lan Zhan, are you sure?”

“I am sure.” He has never been so certain—or so afraid. Nothing has ever felt so right as seeing his ribbon around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. Nothing has ever been as terrifying as the possibility that he could lose this tomorrow.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes drop back to the ribbon, and he doesn’t speak again. He isn’t even smiling.

“Is it—?” Lan Wangji begins. Has he misjudged? Is Wei Wuxian horrified? “Is this—do you want—?”

“I want!” Wei Wuxian blurts. The smile that breaks across his face outshines all the stars. “Lan Zhan, of course I want this!”

Lan Wangji gasps his relief and reaches for Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian pushes him away. “Wait a second,” Wei Wuxian says as he tugs at the ribbon in his hair. Then he wraps it around Lan Wangji’s wrist. “I know it isn’t the same, but I want you to have something, too.”

Lan Wangji blinks down at the red ribbon. What quivers in his chest is too violent for mere happiness. What was once a tiny ember has grown to an inferno, a firestorm too fierce to contain. But now he can wear that fire on his wrist, can see it and touch it, like Wei Wuxian is branded on his skin.

“Lan Zhan? Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji hisses. He looks up at Wei Wuxian, who looks as scorched as he feels. “I want it. I want you.”

“You have me,” Wei Wuxian hisses back, and launches himself at Lan Wangji, tumbling them back into the grass.

For the rest of the night, Lan Wangji pushes his worries aside. If this is to be his only night as Wei Wuxian’s husband, he will not waste it on worry.

When the sun rises, it rises without Lan Wangji, who stays on the pallet in Wei Wuxian’s arms. He stays there even as Wen Qing and Wen Ning head out for the day. He wants the first thing Wei Wuxian sees this morning to be Lan Wangji smiling at him.

After breakfast, Wei Wuxian digs out the blue robes Lan Wangji was wearing when he arrived and shakes out the wrinkles. “C’mon, Lan Zhan. We can’t fight a demon in those old rags.”

It is strange to dress without tying his ribbon, but he prefers seeing it on Wei Wuxian’s wrist, white against black. Wei Wuxian’s red ribbon is almost as bright against the pale blue robes, but he likes the contrast. He likes that they are so obviously marked as each other’s.

Once they are dressed, Lan Wangji combs Wei Wuxian’s hair until it lies sleek, then binds it high behind his head. Wei Wuxian admires his hair in the mirror, then turns to Lan Wangji. “Are you ready?”

No, but lingering will achieve nothing. He nods and kisses Wei Wuxian, refusing to believe this could be the last time.

When Lan Wangji finally releases him, Wei Wuxian whooshes out a breath and shakes himself. “Have I ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, and kisses Wei Wuxian’s forehead. “Let us go.”

When they reach the part of the eastern woods where the mist usually appears, Wei Wuxian casts his golden array around them, but the mist never appears. “I guess the Lightning Lord decided it was pointless to try to keep us out,” Wei Wuxian says.

They reach the hollow tree and crawl inside. This time, the descent is much slower. As they descend, the tunnel shrinks until it is too small to stand upright, and by the time they reach the bottom, they are forced to creep down on their hands and knees. When they finally reach the cavern, Lan Wangji’s knees ache, but that is preferable to Wei Wuxian’s knee in his ass.

Lan Wangji lights a torch from his qiankun bag, then passes it to Wei Wuxian and lights another. In the shadows just beyond the torches’ light stands a man in pale robes.

Lan Wangji drops the torch and draws his sword. The torch rolls toward the man, flickering light. The man steps out of the shadows. The creature has taken the form of Wei Wuxian’s shige again, but this time, his eyes are whole.

“Not again,” Wei Wuxian groans. He points his torch at the creature. “You idiots can’t think we’d still fall for this crap, do you? Just give it up already.”

The creature salutes them. “My apologies. My master suggested that I take this form to greet you. He awaits you in his chamber.”

Wei Wuxian turns to Lan Wangji and raises his eyebrows. Lan Wangji nods. This is why they have come. Whatever awaits them, they must face it.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian tells the creature. “But I’m not going anywhere with you while you look like that.”

The creature shrinks down into a boy and grins. “Is this preferable, daozhang?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “It’ll do. Let’s go.”

Lan Wangji retrieves his torch, and they follow the creature down the first tunnel. Once they have left the cavern behind, Wei Wuxian whispers, “Do you feel anything yet?”

“No,” Lan Wangji murmurs back. Perhaps this tunnel does not contain the same wards as the one they travelled on their last visit.

“My master banished the wards before you arrived,” the creature calls back to them. “Master said he wanted you to be comfortable during your stay.”

Wei Wuxian scowls at the creature’s back. “That’s unsettling.”

“There is nothing to fear,” the creature says. “My master is eager to speak with you.”

“Then why didn’t he come up?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Why is he still lurking down here?”

“This one does not question the master,” the creature says serenely.

Wei Wuxian snorts. “I already hate this guy.”

The tunnel winds in dizzying loops and sinks them farther underground. Their torches flicker over sigils etched into the stone, but Lan Wangji recognizes none of them. Eventually, they come to a grand, ornate door, particularly outlandish in this dank cavern. The creature opens the door and gestures for them to proceed.

They enter an enormous chamber so gilded that a Jin would find it excessive. Light from hundreds of lanterns glints in the gold that seems to cover every surface. Even the floor is marble flecked with gold.

“This is a prison?” Wei Wuxian mutters as they tap across the floor. “Why does the demon get a palace but we’re stuck with the shitty village?”

They pass towering columns, pillars blazing with candles, uncountable statues and vases. Such opulence for a hole in the ground.

At the far end of the chamber, a man in golden robes lounges on a settee reading a book and pretends not to notice them approach.

Wei Wuxian’s snort echoes in the chamber, startling a large crow perched on one of the statues. It squawks irritably, then launches into the air and flaps away. The man looks up from his book, feigning surprise. “Ah, I have been awaiting your arrival. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

He gestures to chairs arranged across from the settee. Their guide reappears to take their now-useless torches, and then they sit down. Like Tao Zongying, this man appears young. His features are sharp, foxlike, but he is handsome, too handsome to require much ornamentation, but his wide sleeves are crusted with gold, and the biggest, gaudiest guan Lan Wangji has ever seen rises from his hair.

“So, you’re the demon?” Wei Wuxian asks.

The demon smiles, thin as a blade and just as cold. “I am Ren Xiaotong.” He turns to Lan Wangji and inclines his head. “Hanguang Jun.” When his head swivels to Wei Wuxian, he smirks. “And Wei Wuxian.”

The look the demon sends Wei Wuxian makes sweat prickle on Lan Wangji’s back, but Wei Wuxian smirks back. “That’s me. Thanks for getting rid of the wards, by the way.”

“Of course. It has been many years since I’ve met a cultivator, but I remember that your kind is quite fond of your little tricks. I did not want you to feel powerless.”

“Thoughtful,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He settles back in his chair. “So what did you want to chat about?”

“First, let me offer you what hospitality we can muster in this place. It has been so long since I’ve had guests.” Ren Xiaotong snaps his fingers, and their guide appears at his side. “Wine for Wei Wuxian,” he says. “Tea for Hanguang Jun.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian exchange a look as the boy salutes and scurries to serve them. So Ren Xiaotong wants to show how much he already knows about them. Does he have some method of spying on them? Or is it more sinister? His creatures seem to invade their minds in order to mimic the dead. Perhaps Ren Xiaotong possesses the same ability.

Lan Wangji ignores the steaming cup of tea that is placed before him, but Wei Wuxian gulps the wine. “Not bad,” he says, toasting the demon. “Especially for this place. You should share your secret. What we’ve been drinking is better suited for scouring pots.”

Ren Xiaotong smirks and waves his hand in the air. A wine jug appears in his hand. “I fear you would find my method difficult to replicate.”

Wei Wuxian shrugs and drinks more wine.

“Is that how you constructed the rest of this chamber?” Lan Wangji asks. “Is it all an illusion?”

The demon’s smirk falls. “It is no illusion. Everything here is as real as you are. I have no need of hammer or saw to build wonders. I need only to wish for them, and they appear.”

“Convenient,” Wei Wuxian says, smacking his lips on the wine. “You should’ve pitched in when we were fixing up the houses. You could’ve saved us a lot of time.”

Ren Xiaotong huffs and takes a delicate sip from his own cup—gold, obviously. “I invited you here to express my gratitude. I have enjoyed watching you scurry about. The villagers are usually so dull, but you were interesting. For a while, at least.”

“We had a pretty good party the other night,” Wei Wuxian chirps. “Did you find that interesting?”

The demon’s brow tightens, but he chases it away with an indulgent smile. “I assume you are referring to the creatures you burned.” He shrugs and leans back, smug and indolent. “Such trouble you went to in order to capture them when they are so easy to replace.”

Lan Wangji tenses, his fists clenching in his lap. The demon could be lying, but if he can replace the creatures with only a snap of his fingers—

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “I guess you can just snap your fingers and make more.” He cranes his neck to look at their guide, currently hovering in the distance. “So why do I only see one?”

“Only one is needed for this interview,” Ren Xiaotong says. His voice remains calm, but his eyes burn gold with the fire of dozens of candles. At least, Lan Wangji hopes it is candlelight he sees there. Perhaps it might be best to rein in Wei Wuxian before the demon becomes too vexed.

“I assume you are aware that we spoke with Tao Zongying,” Lan Wangji says.

Ren Xiaotong’s acid gaze snaps to him, and the gold in his eyes flares to crimson. Perhaps mentioning the god was not the best way to calm him.

“I am,” the demon snaps. “However, if you hope that Zongying will aid you, you will be quite disappointed. For all his noble intentions, he tends to achieve very little.”

Lan Wangji senses Wei Wuxian’s desire to poke at this wound, but for now, he suppresses it and lets Lan Wangji speak. “He told us that you made a bargain,” Lan Wangji says. “He said that you agreed to remain here.”

Ren Xiaotong shrugs, sending his elaborate sleeves swaying. “That is true, more or less. What of it?”

“Why did you agree?”

“I doubt such a young one would understand,” Ren Xiaotong says, raising a derisive eyebrow. “For one such as myself, a few centuries are but a moment.”

“As you say,” Lan Wangji says, inclining his head. “I could not hope to grasp an immortal’s thinking. However, I do not believe your imprisonment has been without distress.”

The demon studies him as if he is a particularly interesting insect, and Wei Wuxian gives him a look that asks where are you going with this? Lan Wangji takes a deep breath and says, “My father imprisoned my mother for killing his shizun, then imprisoned himself in seclusion. They died apart, locked in their separate cells. I think they both came to believe that remaining there was necessary. However, they were wrong. Hiding from the past is no solution.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispers, but Lan Wangji does not pause to be comforted.

“If what Tao Zongying said of your actions is true,” Lan Wangji says, “then I agree with his decision to imprison you, if not the method. He believes that the prison he created for both of you is the only choice, but what he really seeks is your redemption. Will you remain here to punish him rather than face your own transgressions?”

Ren Xiaotong glares fire across the table for several moments in which Lan Wangji expects to be burned alive. “My transgressions?” he finally hisses. He uncoils from the settee and leans closer, bringing the stench of sulfur with him. “Little one, how can you preach to me about my transgressions when you lie with this one?” His finger jabs at Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji wants to turn to Wei Wuxian, but the demon’s eyes burn into him, and he remains still with the instinct of a hunted rabbit—were he to look away, the fox would pounce.

Ren Xiaotong smirks, his posture relaxing as his prey trembles. “Wei Wuxian has astonished you with his talents, hasn’t he? But he has refused to explain how he learned all of those wicked tricks. Don’t you wonder why, little Lan?”

“It would not—” Lan Wangji begins, but the demon tramples over him.

“I regret that I have never visited the Burial Mounds of Yiling myself,” Ren Xiaotong says. “When I was last above ground, the war that caused such strife there had yet to begin. I am pleased that the rumors of its darkness are not exaggerated.” His dragon eyes slide to Wei Wuxian. “This one only stayed there a brief time, yet the shadows he danced with cling to him still.”

Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian and sees only the one he loves, pale and frozen with horror.

“Yes,” the demon purrs, “You are intriguing, Wei Wuxian. So clever, for a mortal. So dedicated to protecting your flock. But the world is full of aspiring heroes, like this stalwart boy.” His eyes flick to Lan Wangji, then away, dismissing him. “You, on the other hand, do not fear the dark. I have seen the bargain you made, the graves you plundered. I know the knowledge you won with bloody teeth. You knew that you could never be clean again, but you understood that power does not come without sacrifice.”

To Lan Wangji’s horror, tears glisten in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Wei Ying,” he begins, but the demon is not finished.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Ren Xiaotong says, his voice aiming for charm but achieving only mockery. “I do not wish to condemn Wei Wuxian. In fact, as a human, I walked a similar path.” He picks up his cup and uses it to point at Wei Wuxian. “But beware, young one: that path sets you among enemies on every side. The dull and the conventional will sneer, and the righteous will demand your head. Someday, your lover will condemn you for the very acts that saved him here. Should he live long enough.”

“That will not happen,” Lan Wangji says, but his words only make the demon laugh.

“Perhaps not,” the demon agrees, still chuckling. “Perhaps you take after your mother, little Lan. How could one murderer despise another?”

Lan Wangji jolts in his chair, but Wei Wuxian presses him back.

“Enough,” Wei Wuxian snaps. “It’s obvious what you want. You don’t need to beg for it.”

“I beg for nothing,” the demon snaps back.

Lan Wangji forces back his fury. “You want to see Tao Zongying. You hope that he will appear to save us as he did in the cavern.”

“I guess that’s one thing you can’t conjure for yourself,” Wei Wuxian adds. “You can’t just snap your fingers and make him appear.”

“Insolent children!” Ren Xiaotong hisses, rising from his seat. “You know nothing! You dare to come into my chambers and assume you know my mind? There is not enough wisdom between you to fathom even—”

Wei Wuxian hops up. “Okay, okay, enough posturing. If you want to fight, let’s fight already.”

Lan Wangji joins him and draws his sword. Even if they lose, he is eager to make this monster bleed—if demons can bleed.

Ren Xiaotong blinks at them in disbelief, but then he huffs and shakes out his sleeves. “Very well. If death is what you seek, then I will be a gracious host.”

The demon rises in the air, his robes reflecting candlelight until he burns like the sun. From the corner of his eye, Lan Wangji sees Wei Wuxian grasping Suibian rather than Chenqing. Because he doesn’t think the dizi would be effective or because the demon has shamed him with his ridiculous jibes? He has no time to ask because light bursts from Ren Xiaotong and knocks them across the chamber.

Ren Xiaotong floats serenely, watching as they pick themselves up. The light limning the demon may be beautiful, but it reeks of sulfur. He has even gilded his power to hide the darkness beneath.

“Sorrow at Dawn,” Wei Wuxian mutters as they pause to assess. “Makes sense now.”

“He is vain and arrogant,” Lan Wangji mutters back. “Use that against him.”

Wei Wuxian cocks an eyebrow. “You want me to piss him off now?”

Lan Wangji nods. “Do your best.”

“Gladly.”

Wei Wuxian strides back across the chamber. “Nice hit!” he calls to the demon. “Very shiny. But to be honest, I was expecting something more . . . demonic.”

“Be careful what you ask for, little one,” Ren Xiaotong says.

Lan Wangji smirks as he fades into the shadows and moves to flank the demon.

“I’m just saying,” Wei Wuxian continues as he strolls closer to the floating demon. “You weren’t a martial god, right? You probably don’t like getting your hands dirty.”

Ren Xiaotong frowns and narrows his eyes. “I began studying the sword before your distant ancestors were born.”

“Yeah, of course. I just meant that you’ve got your tricks now, like those monsters. Plus, you’ve been locked down here for so long. Maybe you’re a little rusty?”

Ren Xiaotong’s face turns a satisfying shade of purple. He may be a powerful immortal, but after terrorizing the world, he surrounded himself with fawning minions. Which is to say, it has surely been a very long time since he has been mocked by someone as skilled as Wei Wuxian.

“If you wish to meet my blade, you need only to ask.”

The demon extends his arm, and a golden sword shimmers into his hand. He slices, and the sword glare flashes across the chamber. Wei Wuxian blocks the first with Suibian, then dives away from the next.

Ren Xiaotong is fast and powerful. His attacks scorch the marble and decapitate statues. But he does not guard his flank. Arrogant.

Lan Wangji’s attack spreads frost across the golden robes, and for a moment, the demon plummets toward the floor. But then light sears through the ice and sends it tinkling onto the marble.

Ren Xiaotong spins toward Lan Wangji and lifts an eyebrow. “Not bad.” His sword sweeps through the air, and Lan Wangji vaults out of the glare’s path, feeling the heat on his heels.

More glares chase him as he dodges through the décor, using the vast columns to block the demon’s attacks. Wei Wuxian grabs him and hauls him behind a jade dragon statue. “This was a dumb idea,” Wei Wuxian pants as sword glares sizzle on the jade.

“He is toying with us,” Lan Wangji says. “He is giving Tao Zongying time to arrive.”

Wei Wuxian nods. “We’d better make sure he doesn’t get bored.” Wei Wuxian squeezes Lan Wangji’s arm and takes a deep breath. “I hope that ridiculous excuse for a god shows up soon.” Then he sprints away, drawing the demon’s fire.

Lan Wangji moves in the opposite direction and fires at Ren Xiaotong’s back, but the demon doesn’t even look back as he raises a hand to deflect the glares.

Minutes pass in what could barely be described as a battle. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are not fighting so much as trying to stay alive. If they are wrong and Tao Zongying does not come, then there is little hope of making it back to the surface world.

At least they have succeeded in wrecking this absurd lair. The chamber is littered with porcelain shards and charred from all the glares bouncing around. The demon may be able to repair it all with a wave of his hand, but destroying it is still satisfying.

Finally, Ren Xiaotong tires of the game. When Lan Wangji attacks, the demon swats away the glare, then holds out his hand as if requesting a cup of wine. Lan Wangji is jerked off his feet and dragged toward the demon by what feels like an invisible tentacle. His flight ends with his throat caught in the Ren Xiaotong’s grip.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian shouts. Red light from Wei Wuxian’s sword pops around them, but the demon pays it no attention.

“So valiant,” Ren Xiaotong says, almost crooning as he chokes Lan Wangji, but his eyes spark with hellfire. “So noble. You knew you were likely coming to your deaths, but you came anyway. How could Zongying abandon such young heroes?” The demon sighs and shakes his head in feigned sadness as Lan Wangji gurgles and struggles. “But perhaps he has finally recognized the futility of righteousness.”

“Let him go!” Wei Wuxian screams. He soars towards them, but Ren Xiaotong flicks his sword and sends Wei Wuxian flying back into a column. Lan Wangji barely hears the thud over the pounding in his ears. The demon’s grip won’t let him turn to see if Wei Wuxian survived.

Let him go, Lan Wangji tries to beg, but nothing emerges from his throat but a wheeze.

Ren Xiaotong smirks at Lan Wangji. “He was right, you know. You are exceptionally pretty.”

The demon’s fingers tighten, and Lan Wangji closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to die looking at this monster. If he could, he would beg for another glimpse of Wei Wuxian, but he must be content with seeing Wei Wuxian’s smile in the constellations sparking on his eyelids.

A voice booms across the chamber: “Enough, Xiaotong!”

The demon’s grip loosens slightly, enough for Lan Wangji to drag in a breath and choke it back out.

“Gege,” the demon purrs. “You’ve come just in time.”

The demon releases him, and Lan Wangji lands in a heap on the marble. He wipes the spit from his chin and blinks away tears to look for Wei Wuxian. To his relief, Wei Wuxian is pushing himself off the floor. Lan Wangji does the same and stumbles past the god and the demon who seem to have forgotten he is there.

“Release the mortals,” Tao Zongying says. “They are only fighting to survive. They don’t deserve your torment.”

“But gege,” the demon whines, “you promised me souls. These two may be fools, but they have such delicious power.”

Lan Wangji reaches Wei Wuxian, and they lean against each other to watch the immortals decide their fate.

“It is time to end this,” Tao Zongying declares. “Our bargain is done.”

The demon shrugs. “Fine with me. When I’m free, are you going to insist that I behave myself?”

The god lifts his chin. “If you’re asking if I would object to you destroying the world, then yes, I would take issue with that.”

Ren Zongying rolls his eyes. “I never wanted to destroy the world. I just wanted to punish the insufferable hypocrites who banished me.”

“By destroying the world!” Tao Zongying shouts. Wind rises in the chamber. “Or have you forgotten what you did?”

The demon’s eyes flash. “I have forgotten nothing! I remember how you betrayed me!” Light shines from his golden robes until Lan Wangji must squint.

“I betrayed you? I defended your depravity for too long! I begged you to come to your senses!”

“You will beg me, Zongying!” the demon snarls, and they fly into battle, the inferno battling the storm.

“We should sneak out while they’re distracted!” Wei Wuxian shouts over the crashes and roars, and Lan Wangji nods. They are of no use here.

They flee the chamber and race down the tunnel, flinching as the walls shake. When they reach the main cavern, they are met with one of Ren Xiaotong’s creatures, this time wearing a woman’s form. Instead of attacking, it cringes away from them.

Lan Wangji draws his sword, but Wei Wuxian grabs his arm to hold him back. “Song Quan?” he calls.

The creature nods. “A-Xian, you have to help us!”

Lan Wangji tugs at Wei Wuxian’s grip on his arm, but Wei Wuxian holds tight as the creature comes toward them.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji hisses.

“No, she’s different,” Wei Wuxian says, cocking his head to study the woman. “Look at her.”

Lan Wangji lights his blade. Wei Wuxian draws his arm forward to shine the light over the woman. Then he sees. This is not one of the demon’s creatures. The creatures’ bodies do not shiver like this nor fade in the light as she does.

“She’s a spirit,” Wei Wuxian says softly. He releases Lan Wangji’s arm and steps forward to salute. “Song Quan, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Song Quan scoffs. “You did more than I could have ever hoped. But we need your help now.”

“We?” Wei Wuxian says. “What do you mean?”

“Come with me,” the spirit says, and heads down the second passageway. Wei Wuxian hurries after her before Lan Wangji can protest, so he follows behind.

“There aren’t many left,” Song Quan says as they walk. “That demon uses us up so fast. But there are still some who aren’t too far gone yet.”

The howling reaches them soon after they enter the passageway.

“Oh fuck,” Wei Wuxian moans. “Tell me he didn’t.”

The chamber Song Quan leads them to has not been touched by the demon’s garish style. Its only decoration is the souls wailing from the walls. Faces push out of the stone, begging for release from their torment. The walls writhe with their pain.

“These are the oldest ones,” Song Quan explains as they stare at the walls in horror. “I don’t think there’s much that can be done for them. I’d guess they’ve been here for centuries.”

Wei Wuxian nods and reaches out a hand to caress the cheek of one of the distorted faces. The spirit sighs and closes its eyes, either in sorrow or bliss. Lan Wangji watches Wei Wuxian offer comfort to the lost soul, his throat aching at the tenderness. So many souls trapped here in agony. It is not just cruel; it is abominable.

“You said the demon uses them?” Lan Wangji asks Song Quan. “How? To what end?”

She shakes her head. “I just know he feeds from us, like a big gold mosquito, until we end up like them.” She nods at the faces in the walls. “Makes him more powerful, I guess. Before you came, we were trapped in this cavern. But even if we can leave, some of them aren’t strong enough to go.”

More shapes emerge from the shadows and stand behind Song Quan. Some of them are tattered, barely recognizable as human, but some are like Song Quan. These must be the most recent deaths—souls who still know themselves.

“A-Niang!” Wei Wuxian calls as he trots toward the soul of a young woman.

She smiles. “I knew you’d come to save us, Wei-gongzi.” Some of the other souls gather around them, chattering in excitement.

One man in a bamboo hat creeps close to Lan Wangji. “Daozhang, are my goats alright?”

Lan Wangji nods. “They are in the village.” He clears his throat. “Along with your memorial tablet. I apologize that we could not include your name.”

The goatherder smiles. “I appreciate it. Can you really get us out of here?”

Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian, who smiles at the spirits encircling him. “He can.”

Chapter Text

Once the reunion is over, Wei Wuxian tells the spirits that he and Lan Wangji will lead them out.

“What about the demon?” the girl asks.

“He’s preoccupied at the moment,” Wei Wuxian says with a smirk. “But we need to move fast.”

Lan Wangji leads them back down the passageway. The dizi plays softly behind him, drawing out the spirits who are too weak and confused to follow Bichen’s light. As they walk, the sounds of battle crescendo, booming off the rock.

“Quickly!” Lan Wangji calls back and starts to run.

But they are too late. There are only half a dozen creatures awaiting them in the main cavern, but the demon himself bursts from the passageway.

“You dare!” he bellows. His golden robes are scorched, and a cut drips blood from his forehead. Demons do bleed, apparently, at least when they battle gods.

Then he can bleed more.

Lan Wangji raises his sword, but Wei Wuxian grips his shoulder, holding him back.

“Song Quan, do you want revenge?” Wei Wuxian asks. There is something strange in his voice, a thread of darkness that makes the hairs stand up on Lan Wangji’s arms.

The demon spits insults as the creatures prowl closer. Wei Wuxian and Song Quan ignore this and stare at each other in silent discussion.

“Yes,” Song Quan hisses. “Help us, A-Xian.”

Wei Wuxian nods and releases Lan Wangji’s shoulder to raise the dizi. As the music snakes through the chamber, the spirits toss back their heads and wail along. Black smoke streams from the dizi and winds around them until as one, they drop their heads and grin.

“No!” the demon roars. He slashes his arm across his chest. The creatures that had cringed back from the dizi shudder and stagger forward again. Lan Wangji leaps to meet them.

While Lan Wangji battles the creatures, the spirits lunge straight for Ren Xiaotong. The demon rises in the air to evade their claws, but Wei Wuxian's black smoke twines around him, smothering his light and forcing him down into the spirits’ hands. Between strikes, Lan Wangji watches the demon struggle to wrench himself free of the souls he'd imprisoned.

“Wei Wuxian, stop!”

Lan Wangji turns toward Tao Zongying, who is limping into the cavern, his gray robes burned black. Wei Wuxian ignores the god’s protest and plays on.

“You knew!” Lan Wangji shouts as he hurls a creature away and moves toward the god. “You knew what he did to them!”

Tao Zongying winces and looks past him to the spirits attacking Ren Xiaotong. “I knew,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to believe . . . but I knew.”

“This is what you have wrought,” Lan Wangji says. “If you will not aid us, then stay back. Wei Ying will right this wrong.”

But Ren Xiaotong has not lost yet. With a roar, he casts off the spirits clawing at him. “Obey me!” he screams, and the spirits falter, caught between the demon’s vicious light and Wei Wuxian’s song.

Wei Wuxian only smiles and plays faster. The music bursts out of the dizi in churning plumes that hurtle across the chamber and wind around the demon’s face. His next shout dies in a gurgle as a black tendril invades his mouth and swells his throat.

The demon thuds to the ground. Spirits fall on him, shrieking and ripping until only glints of gold are visible through the smoke. The dizi falls silent, but the spirits need no instruction now. Their tormentor is in their grasp, and they snarl as they take revenge. The demon's creatures wail and flee down the passageways as their master is torn apart.

Finally, the spirits fall back. The smoke clears, revealing Ren Xiaotong broken and bloody on the ground. Tao Zongying stumbles to him and sinks to his knees. “Oh Xiaotong,” he sighs as he pulls the demon’s head into his lap. Ren Xiaotong’s eyes roll up to him and then flutter closed.

Lan Wangji turns to Wei Wuxian, who watches this while dabbing blood from his upper lip. “Wei Ying, are you—?”

The cavern rumbles, and stone patters from the ceiling. From the first passageway comes the crack of marble and crash of toppling columns.

“Time to go!” Wei Wuxian shouts. He trots toward the spirits and starts ushering them to the tunnel. “C’mon, everybody! I know you don’t need to worry about being crushed, but it won’t be fun for us!”

Song Quan shouts along with him, and together, they get the spirits moving. They stream around the god and demon huddled on the ground as they head to the exit.

Lan Wangji reaches Wei Wuxian and grabs his hand, but Wei Wuxian pulls back. “Tao Zongying, it’s time to leave,” he calls.

The god turns to them and smiles, still stroking the demon’s hair. “Don’t worry about me.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but Lan Wangji tugs his arm. “He is a god, Wei Ying. He will be fine.”

Ren Xiaotong rises up and locks his arms around Tao Zongying. “Yes, he will be just fine.”

“You idiot,” Tao Zongying snaps.

“Were you worried about me, gege?” the demon croons.

The god rolls his eyes and wiggles around to thump the demon’s forehead.

“Uh, what do we do?” Wei Wuxian mutters to Lan Wangji.

“You leave,” Ren Xiaotong snarls.

“Yes,” Tao Zongying says. He twists in the demon’s arms to smile at them. “You should leave. Don’t worry: I’ve got this under control.”

The demon purrs something, but it is drowned out by the groaning rock all around them. An ominous boom comes from the passageway leading to the demon’s chamber. Lan Wangji yanks Wei Wuxian into the tunnel.

“Can we really just leave him down there?” Wei Wuxian asks as they crawl up the rumbling tunnel.

“There is no other choice,” Lan Wangji says. It is what they want—to be buried together in the prison they created. Maybe they are each other’s hell, but they do not wish to be anywhere else. As long as no one else is dragged down with them, Lan Wangji sees no reason to protest.

The noises below them grow louder, echoing in his ears. “Ren Xiaotong’s power must have been holding this place together,” Wei Wuxian calls over his shoulder.

A good theory, but this is hardly the time to discuss it. Lan Wangji shoves at Wei Wuxian’s ass. “Faster!”

They ascend until the ceiling rises high enough to let them stand, and then they run. The tunnel seems endless, with every rumble threatening to bury them in darkness. Finally, light appears ahead. But the light reveals how the ground above them shakes. They race towards the exit, staggering as the stone trembles under their feet.

Voices call out above, urging them to hurry. A piercing whine reaches up from below, and the world tilts, tossing Wei Wuxian back against him. Lan Wangji wraps an arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist and leaps.

They soar up and out, careening off the walls, then plunge through the gap. Lan Wangji tightens his grip on Wei Wuxian as they bounce and roll across the forest floor. When the world stops spinning, he opens his eyes, then squints them shut as the sun burns down through the trees.

Wei Wuxian groans and spits Lan Wangji’s hair out of his mouth. “Nice landing,” he mutters against Lan Wangji’s chest. Given that Lan Wangji has once again landed on the bottom of their pile, this seems unnecessarily judgmental.

“Wei-gongzi!” A-Niang calls as she runs to them. “Are you okay?”

Wei Wuxian pushes himself off Lan Wangji and gives himself a shake, then hauls Lan Wangji to his feet. “Yeah. Did everybody make it out?”

The girl nods and starts to speak, but the earth undulates under them. Lan Wangji fights to keep his balance on ground that rocks like a boat on rough water.

“Look!” one of the spirits shouts.

The hollow tree shivers, its gnarled branches waving in an eerie dance. With a vicious crack, the trunk splinters. The spirits scatter as the severed pieces thud to the earth. A moan rises from below, and the ground opens, sucking the remnants of the tree down in a hungry gulp.

They watch this spectacle, stunned into silence, but whatever is happening is not over. The ground continues to quake, and the other trees shiver as their roots are torn from the dirt.

“Run!” Wei Wuxian yells. “Get as far away from it as you can!”

They run towards the village, dodging falling branches and leaping over jagged roots. Flying would be safer, but even if the spirits cannot be harmed by toppling trees, he doesn’t want to abandon them.

Past the creek, they meet a group running in the wrong direction. “Wei-gongzi!” Wen Ning shouts. “Are you okay?”

“What’s happening?” Feng Yan adds. “It sounds like an avalanche!”

Wen Qing says nothing, but her eyes widen as she looks at the people with them. Thankfully, the others don’t seem to recognize their former neighbors.

“We’ll explain later!” Wei Wuxian yells as he shoves Wen Ning into motion. “Run now!”

They reach the road, but the quakes follow them. When they near Zhi Xia’s house, the tree behind it is already cracking.

“Zhi Xia!” Wen Qing shouts, running toward the house, but before she reaches the gate, Zhi Xia bursts out of the door.

“My house is shaking!” Zhi Xia yells. She stumbles to a stop and points behind her. “You all see that, right?”

Lan Wangji turns toward the village. The street rolls and pitches, shaking loose the buildings above it.

“West!” he shouts at Wei Wuxian. “We have to get them as far away as we can!”

Wei Wuxian nods and turns to the others. “Grab everyone you can find and take them to the pond! Go now!”

Most of them start running, but Zhi Xia staggers closer and peers at the spirits. “Song Quan, is that you?”

“No, you’re just drunk,” Song Quan says. She grabs Zhi Xia’s arm and drags her down the street.

“We need to check the houses,” Wei Wuxian says to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji nods. “I will go to the school first.”

“Okay.” Wei Wuxian squeezes his arm, and they run again, headed into the village.

When Lan Wangji reaches the school, Hao-laoshi is already ushering the children out. “Is it an earthquake?” she calls to him.

He swings A-Yuan onto his back, then lifts Chen Jiao onto his hip. “Take the girls to the pond in the western forest. Go as quickly as you can.”

Her jaw drops, but she recovers and nods. “Let’s go, girls. You heard Hanguang Jun. We’re going to the pond.”

The two older girls follow meekly, but Chen Jiao starts to wail for her mother. Thankfully, Gao Xiurong finds them only moments later. “Oh, thank you, Hanguang Jun! Is it an earthquake?”

Lan Wangji passes the girl to her mother and repeats the instructions. She pales but goes without question.

A-Yuan’s arms tighten around Lan Wangji’s neck. “Gege, is it a monster? Is it going to eat us?”

“All the monsters are dead,” Lan Wangji says as he starts to run again. “Hold on tightly.”

He focuses on the eastern side of the street, racing from building to building and sending those he finds to the pond. Wei Wuxian does the same on the western side. By the time they are halfway through the village, the shaking has increased until he can barely keep his feet. A-Yuan hides his face against Lan Wangji’s neck and cries softly, but there is no time to comfort him.

The roof of the next house has already collapsed, but Lan Wangji still calls inside. When he receives no answer, he turns and sees Wen Ning running toward him.

“Everyone’s out, Hanguang Jun!” Wen Ning calls.

A-Yuan cries for his cousin, so Lan Wangji surrenders his charge to Wen Ning and goes to find Wei Wuxian.

He darts among the buildings, calling for him until the response comes from above.

“Up here, Lan Zhan!”

Above him, Wei Wuxian flies on his sword with Duan Yiran clinging to his waist. “Everyone’s out, let’s go!”

Lan Wangji jumps onto his sword and rises to follow, but they have not reached the woods before an enormous crash makes him turn. Behind them, the buildings crumple to the earth like a giant hand is crushing them. Dust rises from the debris and surrounds them in a choking cloud.

When the fog clears, all is silent and still.

“I guess we’re getting kicked out,” Wei Wuxian says. He grins at Lan Wangji, then lowers Duan Yiran to the ground. “Wait here,” he tells her. “We’ll be back in a second.”

Wei Wuxian flies to the north, following the street, which now winds through ruins. They pass the remains of the temple and fly out of the village.

“Where are we going?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I have a hunch about something,” Wei Wuxian says.

When they reach the northern barrier, Wei Wuxian steps off his sword. “Okay,” he mutters. He draws in a deep breath, then takes a small step forward. Then another. Then he strides ahead, his pace increasing until he is nearly trotting. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian whoops and leaps into the air. Wei Wuxian hits the ground running, and his form grows smaller as he moves farther and farther away, running far past the invisible barrier they all know so well.

“It’s gone,” Lan Wangji gasps.

Wei Wuxian turns back to him and throws out his arms. “C’mon, Lan Zhan! Why are you just standing there?”

Lan Wangji shoves himself into motion and does not stop until he has Wei Wuxian in his arms, lifting him off the ground and spinning them in dizzy circles.

Laughing, Wei Wuxian clings to his shoulders and lets himself be spun. “We’re free, Lan Zhan! Those assholes actually set us free!”

Lan Wangji could never articulate the thought better than that, so he pulls Wei Wuxian down and kisses his laughing mouth.

A few of the villagers leave that very day, but most stay behind to unearth their belongings from the rubble. The teahouse and the crop warehouse must be scavenged to feed those who remain, and the infirmary to treat the wounds incurred during the evacuation. Thankfully, Wen Qing leads the establishment of a camp and arranges the departures. In an unfortunate oversight, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian neglected to take their bedrolls when they left to battle the demon. After all, they had not expected to return—or for the temple to be demolished. Without the bedrolls, their last nights are spent sleeping under the stars on what spare cloth they can scavenge. That is not entirely unpleasant, though the lack of privacy is frustrating.

The excavation pauses for another necessary task: laying the spirits to rest. The ceremony is quite odd considering that the dead are there to witness it.

“I’ll make you a memorial tablet when I get home,” Feng Yan promises Song Quan.

“So will I,” Wen Bingyun says.

“Old fools,” Song Quan mutters, but she smiles.

When she reaches Wei Wuxian, he bows low. “Goodbye, Song Quan. Thank you for saving us.”

She cups his cheeks and wipes away his tears. “Thank you, A-Xian. We would have been lost without you.” She kisses his forehead and moves on to the next mourner.

Lan Wangji lays his hand on Wei Wuxian’s back and keeps it there as Wei Wuxian says goodbye to those he protected.

Many tears are shed as Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian play Rest and usher the spirits on to whatever awaits them, but there is joy as well, and the peace of knowing a great evil has been rectified.

As they leave the cemetery, Wei Wuxian pauses and looks back.

“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No crows,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “They always hang around the funerals.”

“Perhaps because there are no corpses today.”

Wei Wuxian hums, his eyes still searching the trees. Then he shrugs. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

Once they have recovered all that they can from the ruins of the village, there is only one last duty.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return to the eastern woods alone. When they reach the place where the hollow tree once stood, Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and whistles softly, the phrases rising in question. Lan Wangji follows as he winds through the broken forest, following a response only he can hear.

“Here,” Wei Wuxian murmurs.

Lan Wangji settles onto a tree stump and calls to his guqin. The music sighs through the shadows. They play Rest for what seems like hours, sinking the notes beneath the earth to find the souls still trapped there.

When Wei Wuxian lowers the dizi, Lan Wangji muffles the guqin strings. “Is it enough?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian kneels and lays his palm on the earth. “It is all we can do.”

The last villagers gather in the street as they ready to depart. Duan Yiran and Xiao-Chou are joined by He Minhui and Zhou Siyun. Wei Wuxian smirks but wisely does not comment.

“Just wait,” He Minhui calls back to them as she walks away. “The next time we meet, I’ll challenge you to a duel!”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Looking forward to it!”

Hong Luo and Chao-Chao leave next, driving the goats and yanking the furious donkey behind them. Lil Apple’s indignation is likely due to the chickens squawking on her back.

Hao-laoshi takes the two older girls with her. “I’ll see that they get to their families,” she tells Wei Wuxian. “I promised their mothers.”

Then the departure Lan Wangji has been dreading arrives. He helps Wen Yasheng and Zhi Xia into the carriage where Gao Xiurong waits with Chen Jiao. Chen Tengqi grumbles about being forced out of his own carriage, but everyone ignores him.

Wei Wuxian scoops A-Yuan into his arms and covers his face with kisses. “Farewell, my king. Take care of your grandmother, okay?”

When he’s released, A-Yuan runs to Lan Wangji and hugs his thigh. “Handsome-gege, aren’t you coming with us?”

Lan Wangji swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head. “No, but we will see you again.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, my king.” Lan Wangji lifts him into the carriage and makes himself step away. As the door closes, Wei Wuxian’s hand rubs his back.

Shao Huian snaps the reins, and the carriage lurches forward. Wen Ning salutes them, then trots after the carriage, smiling and waving back.

“We’ll write when we’re settled somewhere,” Wen Qing promises.

“You’d better,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji bows to her. “Send word to Cloud Recesses if you require assistance.”

She smiles and returns his bow. Then she follows the carriage, trailed by Wen Bingyun and a pouting Chen Tengqi.

Then there is only Bai Juyi.

“Bai-qianbei!” Wei Wuxian calls as the old man approaches. “Why didn’t you hitch a ride on the carriage?”

Bai Juyi huffs and flaps a hand. “I’m not too old to take a stroll.”

“Of course not,” Wei Wuxian says, grinning. “But a man of your talents shouldn’t be forced to walk.”

Lan Wangji salutes him. “Farewell, qianbei. Thank you for sharing your music.”

Bai Juyi pats his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll write a song about the two of you. It’s not every day one meets a demon slayer.”

“Don’t forget about the Serpent of the Abyss!” Wei Wuxian demands. “And make sure you say how handsome we are!”

Bai Juyi rolls his eyes and smiles as he shuffles away, the pipa strapped to his back.

And then they stand alone in the flattened village. Since the battle, they’ve had little time to speak and even less privacy. Lan Wangji hasn’t found an opportunity to counter the poisonous words Ren Xiaotong unleashed in his chamber that day. For all that Wei Wuxian smiles and clings to him in the night, Lan Wangji has seen the apprehension in Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he thinks Lan Wangji isn’t looking. But Lan Wangji is always looking at him. Since the day he arrived, he’s had trouble looking at anything else.

They also have not found time to discuss what happens now.

The dizi spins fast as Wei Wuxian watches Bai Juyi disappear down the road. “Maybe we’ll get to ascend since we defeated a demon—more or less.” He turns to Lan Wangji and cocks an eyebrow. “I can definitely see Hanguang Jun as a god.”

“I hope not.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Yeah, if all the gods are like Tao Zongying, heaven must be a mess.”

“I would not mind being immortal with Wei Ying.”

A blush spreads across Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, and he ducks his head. “So, the road lies before us. What’s next, Lan Zhan?”

“I would like to return to Gusu first.”

Wei Wuxian nods and doesn’t meet his eyes. “Of course. Your family must be so worried about you.”

“And I would like for them to meet my husband.”

Wei Wuxian clears his throat and clenches the dizi behind his back. “Are you sure about that, Lan Zhan? I mean, nobody knows about this.” He gestures with the wrist bearing Lan Wangji’s ribbon. “You could take it back.”

“I do not wish to take it back. Do you?”

“No, but Lan Zhan . . . you heard what the demon said. I wish I could say he was lying, but I’ve done things, things you can’t imagine. And maybe the demon was right. Maybe I’ll end up like him. Or worse.”

Lan Wangji steps closer and grips his wrist. “Wei Ying is nothing like him.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, his eyes darting away from Lan Wangji’s gaze. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’m capable of doing. What happened in the cavern was nothing compared to . . .” He looks up at Lan Wangji, so lost in his misery. “You’d hate me if you knew.”

“I could never hate you.” He grips too tightly and has to force himself to relax. He cannot convince Wei Wuxian by breaking his wrist. Words have never been his strength, but he must try. “I know your heart. I witnessed what you accomplished here, how you protected the villagers. I saw how you cared for them, even after their deaths.”

“Anyone would have done that,” Wei Wuxian mutters.

“No. Not all would care, and few, if any, could have succeeded as you did. I could not. Your methods may be unorthodox, but there is no shame in using them to protect others.”

“But Lan Zhan—”

“I do not know what occurred in the Burial Mounds. I do not know how you gained your abilities. I hope that you tell me someday, not because I fear the answer but because I wish to know everything about my husband.”

“That isn’t a story you want to hear.”

“Hearing it will not change how I feel. Whatever you did, I know that you did what you must. However, you will never be forced into such circumstances again.”

Wei Wuxian blinks up at him with tears in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Lan Wangji smiles. “From now on, I will be with you.”

The corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth twitches up, and he swipes at a tear sliding down his cheek. “Oh, I see. You’re going to keep me out of trouble.”

“No. I will assure that you always approach trouble with a sound strategy.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Like strangling a giant snake?”

Lan Wangji sighs and rolls his eyes. “I underestimated the thickness of its hide. That does not negate the strategy’s validity.”

“Whatever you say, Lan Zhan.” Grinning, Wei Wuxian sways closer and brushes their lips together. Then he leans back, shimmering with joy. “So, to Gusu, then?”

Lan Wangji nods and captures another kiss. “And then wherever you wish.”

Wei Wuxian links their arms, and they set off down the street. “Okay, Lan Zhan, let’s go make trouble!”