Archive of Our Own

A Cloudy Morning in Yiling

The elderly head servant of Yiling Palace turned around from her flower-picking at the quick pitter-patter of recognizable footsteps. "Your highness, where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Just out for a quick stroll! We'll be right back!"

"Alright!" She paused. "Wha- by yourselves?" she called out behind them, "My prince, please wait! Guards?!"

And that was how their morning started, his highness Wei Wuxian hauling one Lan Wangji by the hand in a mad dash out the royal courtyard.

Wei Wuxian laughed with all the air in his lungs as they kicked dust behind them. For their fifteen years of living, never had he seen his companion in such a disheveled state. And never would the subjects of the Gusu Kingdom imagine their beloved second prince this way; stumbling to follow in his horribly long white robes and windswept hair!

Wei Wuxian, to his credit, did attempt to wrestle off at least two of the eight layers his fiancé was wearing for the sake of practicality, “How can you even move in these things, Lan Zhan?!”

But Lan Wangji had argued that it was improper, and these were the formal robes expected of a royal’s visit to Yiling.

Still, they were far too many.

One would think that, for anything, having been recently engaged to Lan Wangji would have warranted more frequent visits - at least more than they had in their childhood. But it seems not even that can be changed.

The solution? Make your own time.

"Wei Ying, where are we going? Your guards are chasing us!"

Wei Wuxian would have cooed at the adorable lilt Lan Zhan’s voice had whenever he was worried about something. "It’s not a problem, we'll lose them soon!” Then he chanced a glance over his shoulder, a spark lighting his eyes that the other barely caught. Clasping one calloused hard in another, the younger took a sharp turn, and Lan Wangji barely managed to stumble before his shoulder jostled with the force of being pulled back.

 “I know a shortcut!"

Lan Wangji's mouth failed to catch up with his brain before he found himself trapped between Wei Ying and a wall in a blur. He barely registered that he was being caged before Wei Ying pressed nearer, just in time for them to see the group of panting guards slow down and round the corner. Wei Ying’s hot breath was hitting his ear, his knee accidentally found itself between Wei Ying’s legs and if he glanced up just a little he would have caught Wei Ying’s gaze from what felt like a hairswidth apart. He wanted to voice his wish for Wei Ying to shift over a little when the head guard’s deep voice cut into the air. “My princes, please do return!” he bellowed, louder this time, “It's too dangerous to venture off alone!"

Save the wind, the small company of guards were met with silence.

"Captain, why don't we check the Grove?” said one of the younger soldiers. “We’ll keep searching. And even if we don't find them, Prince Wei has always returned to us before dark without fail,” he rubbed his chin for a second, “…At least when he has run away in the past." The other guards groaned, and the younger guard tried glancing around placatingly with a smile.

The captain sighed, "Yes, he has. But we are on the brink of war, lieutenant. How can we not worry? What will become of our little prince should he be spotted by the enemy?"

This was met with more silence.

"-The Grove, then."

"The Grove!" the rest saluted, then dispersed with a flurry of footsteps. Lan Wangji imagined them walking off stiffly like those little toy soldiers he’s seen from the West.

The breeze whistled as the two boys listened for the clacking of armor to fade into the distance.

A beat, then the Yiling Prince’s body seemed to relax from the wound-up position it was constrained with in those few tense moments. A long exhale escaped his lips which unfortunately landed right on Lan Wangji’s very sensitive ear in a way that he failed to mask his shiver. Sensing this, Wei Wuxian wrapped his arms around him, sealing him in a warm embrace before backing away. Prince Wangji startled at the palm that handed on the wall beside his head. "Wei Ying," he started.

A chuckle. "Lan Zhan."

The absolute burning he felt rise to his ears was a sensation he often associated with close proximity to Wei Ying. Unfortunately, however, the embarassment of this physical reaction was not something he had gotten used to despite knowing each other for years.

He was fifteen. If something like this still melted his heart, what kind of Prince would he be a few years from now?

In an elegant move befitting of a Gusu Prince and overpracticed by Lan Wangji, he switched their positions with a whirl, trapping Wei Ying against the wall between his arms. Now that both of them had straightened their backs, Lan Wangji noticed with a hint of pride that he might have been a centimeter or two taller than Wei Ying since he last saw him. Not that it meant anything, no.

He looked down at that face close to his, and the same sparkle graced Wei Ying’s eyes again. It was something rare that Lan Wangji was sure only he saw, something that shone whenever Wei Ying was too happy or shocked or excited to express his thoughts to words like was usually was so good at doing.

Not another moment was wasted before Wei Wuxian's vision was engulfed by the other boy, his back pressed further into the brick wall and their foreheads coming to press up against one another.

              ‘My Lan Zhan has become so bold,’ Wei Ying chuckled inwardly. ‘If he’s already like this, what more could I ever teach him?’

This man, this beautiful man had gone from the pure, distanced Jade Wei Ying had always expected their future Emperor to be, to this shy, but fierce and loving man that he couldn’t wait to marry. What a perfect man he had landed himself! Never did he think he would enjoy the feeling of his legs turning to mush until they had officially started their courting months ago. He hummed as his lips were engulfed by Lan Zhan's, savoured the sweet taste of persimmon fruits they had shared just moments before. before the taller boy had pulled away abruptly, the connection cut off with a moist smack sound.

Sensing that the other wouldn't continue, Prince Wei did something he only ever did around his fiancé.

He whined.

"Lan Zhaaan, why cut off such sweet connection! Your A-Ying's heart pounds, it's, about to burst through his chest, give him more!" he bounced on his toes to try and recapture that kiss. He couldn’t say he was well-versed in romantic prose and words like Lan Zhan was at writing it, but physical charm he had in abundance.

He didn’t notice, but it was obvious the Gusu royal also wanted to indulge but was restraining himself, judging from his ears reaching their cherry-red color threshold in addition to clenched hand held at his side (horny grip ™).  Still being felt up by Wei Ying’s searching hands, the Second Jade barely managed to articulate, "Wei Ying, we should return to the palace. It is unsafe for us to go off alone, you know this."

"Ah yes, but what would I have to worry about with my Lan er-gege protecting me?"

"We left our swords at the palace."

"Mhmm...yes, but we still have each other and our martial arts! No one can rival us save for your brother and that damn Jin Zixuan!"

"Wei Ying-"

"Okay, okay." the shorter boy acquiesced, "It's just that now we're engaged, really engaged…we haven't been allowed to spend our time the way we used to as kids. If I hug you for too long around the court, I'm "improper". If you carry me on your back, it’s called "indecorous". And you know how I'm a very…tactile person?"

They both knew ‘touch-starved’ was a more befitting term, but Wei Ying appreciated the nod he received anyways.

He continued, "I just feel like - if we have to act so composed like this for now on, then waiting for our wedding day is going to be the longest three years of my life. I mean, who set the law to eighteen being the marrying age anyways? What sort of repressed elder came up with that? If I had my way, we'd marry right n-"

Further rambling cut off with another, deeper kiss, one where Lan Zhan had his face held in his palms in a way that he wanted to remember the feeling of those calloused thumbs there forever. He looked dazedly up as they broke for air.

He already knew from the creased brow that the less-talkative Second Jade needed time to assemble his thoughts, and so he stood there patiently. 

Lan Zhan sighed. "I understand how you feel, Wei Ying. I have felt the same way."

"Really?"

"Mn. I have, but as we grow older, it grows harder to hide the dangers of the world. Our elders are merely trying to…coddle us while they can."

The younger prince snorted, "Why Lan Zhan, such unforgiving speech from you. I've never heard of such a thing leave your mouth. Especially towards the elders."

The Gusu Prince just shrugged. 

“But,” the younger continued, interlocking their fingers together, “I guess I can behave a little more in court. For the old fuddy-duddy’s sakes. After we’re married, we’ll be the ones calling the shots, after all. And then,” he turned. “Then I’ll have you all. to. my. self.” Emphasizing each word with a teasing poke on the shoulder, Wei Ying didn’t wait for a reply before he started running again, yanking the arm behind him like he had minutes ago. “But while we’re out of court, I’ll still have my fun! Come, I’ve been meaning to show you something!”

The clean forest trail would have been a more forgiving path, but more obvious than traversing up the rocky path they were currently going, which is why Wei Wuxian was confident their guards wouldn’t go looking for them up here.

In its own right, Yiling was a quaint, but productive vassal kingdom of the Lan empire. Its humble residents adapted to the thin air and colder temperature that came with the high mountain altitudes; and they lived and traversed across their landscape in ways outsiders would think terrifying. 

Besides the ground markets, most of Yiling consisted of impressive suspension bridges and magnificent large buildings thought impossible to build so high up. Yet the small kingdom showed off all its splendor with buildings that rose in perfect marriage with the skies, just like the tips of the mountain peaks did. These structures were all balanced on the rocky edges only possible with great feats of engineering. 

The Yiling Prince sped through these structures without a care, hopping with practiced ease with his fiance in tow. Almost above the clouds already, Wei Wuxian laughed excitedly as he caught sight of all the sunlight that had been blocked by the cloud cover on the land below. 

As the two ascended the long steps to the peak’s summit, Wei Wuxian chattered off about the little plants and animals they passed here and there with poorly-concealed delight. The Gusu Prince smirked at his excitement, admiring how the wind blew in a way that made Wei Ying’s hair come alive and dance around his face softly. 

What should have felt like hours felt like no time at all when in good company. The couple finally arrived at the viewpoint, a small alcove set in the cliffside, shaded over protectively by a large willow tree. “This is our tree!” Wei Ying declared with glee, setting himself down to watch the sunset as his love followed suit.

Yin, Prince Wangji had called it. Yin Iron.

“Yin, yang. Yang, yin. What are we doing Lan Zhan, a riddle?” Wei Ying tiled his head imploringly.

His love shook his head, then turned to stare at the tops of the clouds as he set to explain something he only began to understand himself recently.

Yin was consistent with the energy used by the demons their clans fought and the supernatural alike. But in ancient times, a Lan ancestor had created a material that absorbed that energy. The exact reason for its creation remained unknown, but legend was that in the end, this material was confiscated by the gods out of fear that demonic energy could be something wielded by humans.

Things tainted with demonic energy were of course, not allowed in the heavens with the gods, nor could these purer beings destroy them. As a result, the original Lan ancestor was implored to destroy their creation themselves, but at the cost of their life. There was one last Yin Iron artifact remaining, one that couldn’t be destroyed before they had perished. It was a single scimitar, one argued to be the most powerful artifacts descending from Yin Iron. Many Lans had attempted to destroy it over their family’s history to no avail. 

The Yiling Prince hummed. “So I’m guessing this Yin-scimitar-thing still exists today, and it’s locked up under some high tower over in Gusu. And now it is your family’s divine mission by the gods to protect this and prevent the creation of the world’s first demonic cultivator.” 

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Ha, I was just making that up, Lan Zhan!” The other scoffed, “Don’t tell me that’s actually true! That the gods are real? That we can actually contact them?!”

Ancient… Legend… Gods… Divine mission...

The Yiling Prince heard plenty of this sort of talk around court...but in stories. Sure, the people of their time had prayed to gods in their respective temples, but the idea of the gods actually answering back, actively communicating with mortals was a novel idea. The only ‘record’ of humans actually communicating with the heavens had only been in creation stories, after all.

Lan Wangji put an arm around the other, pressing him into his side. “I have not actually conversed with the gods, but we do pray to them as per ritual.” Wei Ying looked up in time to see his love steel his gaze, as if scrutinizing the layer of clouds below them. “Our scriptures say, however, that the moment the heavens will look at humanity again is when the Son of Heaven relinquishes the last container of Yin energy...or its bearer.”

A snort. “So the ones above refuse to look at us mere mortals again until all traces of a centuries old mistake have been erased?”

“Yes.”

“...Well hopefully you’ll never have to meet the gods or the the first demonic cultivator, if there even will be one, O’ Son of Heaven.” A lean hand traced the Gusu Prince’s jaw before tilting it downwards to catch his cheek for a quick kiss. 

Wei Wuxian watched as the other’s hand had been clenching and unclenching through their whole conversation. He was glad his fiancé was opening up to him about his troubles, saw the way he didn’t hesitate to tell him, the way he wanted Wei Wuxian to be involved in his life even when they were seeing each other less and less as they got older. 

After all, wasn’t it a bit too much for a mortal soul to handle?

Without warning, he grasped that Jade face within his palms, squishing it as he pleased as he forced their gazes to lock. “Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying.”

“We might not be old enough to understand all the world’s troubles just yet. But the day we marry, and the day you become Emperor, know that I will be here every step of the way. If the weight on your back grows too heavy, let your A-Ying carry the rest.” He watched quietly as beautiful amber eyes seemed to gloss over with emotions long repressed and unshed. The Second Jade covered the hands on the sides of his face with his own, sharing warmth there at the top of this chilly morning mountain peak.

So they continued to talk about their future, and here and there the Yin Artifact couldn't help but be mentioned again.

"They are mysterious, but in a way that I must learn when I’m of age. All I know is that it is my Clan's task to guard the Holy Yin Artifact. The Lan Clan has become more cautious now that there is only one left.”

Wei Wuxian hummed. “Ah, so that’s why they’re so adamant about marrying you off to the perfect person, hm?”

Wei Wuxian made himself comfortable by hugging Lan Wangji’s middle, “Someone to stand alongside you to protect the Yin Artifact, of course. And to rule with, dual cultivate with…” he smirked, tilting his head up to smack that elegant chin with his lips teasingly. Lan Wangji blinked, and after a beat he returned the gesture with a proper kiss. He could feel his ears burn at the loud, moistened sound their lips made as they parted.

Lan Wangji relented, holding the other prince at an arm’s width to stare into grey orbs to make his point, “Wei Ying is the only one I will marry. Wei Ying is the perfect candidate. My Clan will remember soon... why they chose for us to marry.” 

Lan Wangji recalled the face Wei Ying made when he told him the Lan Clan was going to reconsider their arranged marriage. He never wanted to see him so crestfallen again. They’ve fallen too far in love; have already melded into each other’s hearts despite their young age. 

Maybe if they were a few years older, rather than fifteen, their voices could be heard. For now, Lan Wangji decided he would protect what they had now with his entire being. No force on earth would rip the two apart if he could help it, arranged marriage or not.

Wei Wuxian chuckled, now rolling his head to lay in the other’s lap and crossing his arms behind his head. He couldn’t help the self-deprecating speech before it slipped out of his mouth. “Oh yes, trade deals, territory acquisition, military alliance. Yiling can offer that to the empire, but don’t they think the same of that other boy they were considering as a candidate? That adorable little what’s-his-name from the Jin Clan. He’s called Xuan...xuan-something.” He didn’t see the Second Gusu Prince’s eyebrows furrow as he continued, “Their kingdom is built on top of gold mines, Lan Zhan. They could probably gift the empire with two whole Yilings-wait, make that three. I’m sure that between me and Xuan-guy, it’s no competition who your elders would look towards for you to marry. I’ll probably have to fight that Prince in a battle to the death for your hand! Oh, what are rich men compared to rocks and mountains!” he exclaimed with dramatic flare.

Not hearing this any longer, Lan Wangji ducked down to pepper the other’s face with small kisses. He continued relentlessly as the younger squealed. “You. are. the. one. I. choose.” he declared, as if he was stamping each word into the skin with every kiss. 

He stopped to let Wei Ying catch his breath, but the younger was still vibrating with laughter. Lan Wangji waited for him to settle, locking eyes with the boy laying in his lap and satisfied with their close proximity. “The Vassal Kingdoms may be out of contact, but Yiling and the Wei Clan is enough for the Lan Clan. And Wei Ying is more than enough for me. More than I could ever ask for. I will make sure we will marry so Wei Ying has nothing to doubt himself for.” 

They searched each other’s gazes for a sobering moment.

It was rare for the Second Prince of Gusu to speak so earnestly and for so long in a conversation. He normally came off as a fuddy-duddy, save for occasions where it was absolutely necessary not to be.

This. This moment in making Wei Wuxian understand was absolutely necessary. 

So they talked of the future they would have. Their future together, the one that was promised to them as children, ever since the Wei Clan received that first letter of proposal.

"Would you show your A-Ying one day? The invisible world the Lans have been allowed to see. The heavens, the blessings, calling upon the Gods through Inquiry?" Wei Wuxian fluttered his eyelashes in a way he hoped was over-the-top.

Lan Wangji’s face softened. "The next time you come back to Gusu with me, I will." And although his smile was smaller than the other's wide one, they matched in sincerity. After too long a pause, Wei Wuxian erupted into content giggles. Lan Wangji silenced the melodious noise with his own lips then, and felt his love melt into his embrace as they sat under their small willow tree.

Lan Wangji remembered that moment. That time filled with hope and so much happiness. It truly was a moment caught in the eye of the storm, a moment that would be drowned and engulfed along with the unlucky persons that sat in the middle of it.

And besides, that was almost a decade ago. Recent enough to recall, but too distant to detail, nonetheless.

He wondered how his beloved would look like now. 

Would Wei Ying still smile enough these days for his dimples to appear? Would Wei Ying still be able to share a gentle afternoon like they had as children?

The Second Prince sighed to himself. Him slowing down his breathing to calm it was the only remotely pleasant feeling he’s felt in his chest for what seemed like ages now. Was Wei Ying even still alive?

His brain made up images of that boy long-lost plagued him again, conjuring up the worst-case scenarios like it always did when he was alone with his thoughts like this.

Flashes of a decaying body, exposed hands and feet dressed in adornments eerily familiar.

Wei Ying, chained to a wall somewhere no one could hear him, kept captive and weak all these years with the hope that his beloved would come and save him.

Or, and this was the most likely, Wei Ying dying off with the rest of the Yiling Royal Family during the siege. Him falling off the cliffside, all his belongings accompanying him in slow motion and a trace of Lan Zhan leaving his lips before time sped up again and his head cracked against rock, his landing taking his life with him.

There were just too many scenarios, realistic or not, that plagued his mind these last few thousands of days. Any mind healer was turned away over the years for fear of something going wrong and him forgetting any moment with the boy of his memories.

‘It’s a bit of a paranoid thought Majesty,’ he heard once.

And he was sure it was. But nothing could heal him, absolutely nothing, except for the return of a familiar smile, gaze, and face.

But lately, in these last few thousands of days; it’s felt like Wei Ying’s distance has worn him thin, like their time apart was pulling the yarn from a doll and never stopping.

Like his hope and luck were running out. He wasn’t sure which at this point.

Feeling the sadness’ familiar physical drain on his body, Lan Wangji lowered himself to the floor cushion sedately. 

--

He should have expected it when he fell asleep in such a state of grief, but his brain chose to bring those cursed images into his dreams again.

It happened less than a month after Lan Wangji’s final visit to Wei Ying in Yiling. The Wei Clan had been massacred quickly and quietly in the night, but that didn’t mean the horrible scene was any less brutal.

Yiling’s King and Queen, as well as the rest of their immediate family, were found slaughtered and hung in their palace’s grand doorway. It was said they were almost unrecognizable were it not for their trademark black robes and jewelry that distinguished them as Yiling Wei Royalty. He wasn’t there to see it. He couldn’t be sure.

It was just two days after hearing the news when Lan Wangji himself had stepped through those gates. He ran ahead, scurrying past the village’s forlorn residents as they pulled their homes together again. Some people caught a glimpse of his bright robes, saw that there was an outsider here, that there was help, but Lan Wangji pleaded for them to let him go in their desperate grabs. He departed with all his money pouches and whatever food he held in his robes in his struggle to break free. He ran the rest of the way to the palace, ignoring the eerie feeling knowing that there would be no welcoming parade nor party to greet him ever again. The Lan entourage arrived late enough for the Wei Clan’s bodies to have been taken down from their hanging, but they weren’t spared the sight of corpses scattered amongst the courtyard. 

Bodies adorned in golden and red robes signified that various members of the Yiling inner court and servant’s bodies were those that were still here. Tears fell from Lan Wangji’s eyes before he could even blink, watching the bloodied mounds of the dead being loaded away and the grounds cleaned in their wake.

These were people he dined with, people who danced around him and Wei Ying at their celebrations. Who disapproved of any skinship between the boys because they were too young to understand feeling, but ultimately wished the best for him and Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan startled as he heard his brother sharply exhale at the manslaughter that remained. Xichen stood stock-still in his shock as he backed into his uncle.

Lan Qiren could only look at the ground and shake his head solemnly, offering his silent prayer to the dead here in the doorway since he could not anywhere else.

But the Second Prince’s shock worked differently. He simply didn’t hear his brother’s worried call as he numbly made his way through the courtyard. His feet chose to guide his shocked body on muscle memory alone, vaguely registering his stumbling through white gravel as he went further.

The rest of the Lan entourage watched in worried resignation as their Second Prince walked ahead with a vacant gaze. They weren’t sure he even felt his shoes and hem of his robe becoming soaked and bloodied from where their ends touched the ground. The teen blindly made his way through the destruction of the once lively Palace Pavilion. Echoes of laughter and conversations long-gone flew disembodied past his ears, and he picked up his pace as his mind was capable again of feeling more and more panicked.

Wei Ying’s quarters were just ahead. Just another twenty steps, and then the hall to the right.

Wei Ying,

He looked past the blood streaking the walls. 

I cannot...

The holes in the windows where arrows must have struck. 

The large and bloodied cutmarks made in the columns by swords, where the Second Prince guessed people’s heads or limbs were sheathed clean off.

I can’t go on without you…!

His feet stopped for him, and looking up he knew why. Lan Wangji was frozen. He didn’t know how long. But he knew that he was staring long enough for his tear ducts to flow, and his cheeks to sting from the biting wind. 

He stared at the space he knew his beloved once resided. Wei Wuxian’s quarters were settled at a corner, and Lan Wangji recalled that if you looked down you would see the river valley below. 

All Lan Wangji saw now was an empty cliffside, as if the entire hall had been thrown off the mountain into the depths below by some freak earthquake.

The Second Prince edged the cliff as close as he dared, eyeing the wood pieces and beams that must have scattered along with Wei Wuxian’s quarters as it fell down. Squinting his eyes against the sunlight, he peered at one shattered beam in particular. Even closer, he saw with horrific realization the lone red ribbon trapped under it, fluttering in the breeze.

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure if it was him or someone near, but a throat was screamed raw that day.

2. Present Day: The Palace

It had been almost eight years after the massacre of the Wei Clan. Since then everything had been thrown into a tailspin. 

In a struggle that lasted less than three months, the Imperial City ruled by the Lans found itself overtaken by the Wen Tribes, a nomadic force that had been terrorizing the country sporadically like a bad specter. With the state of disunion of the kingdoms, and with Yiling decimated, it was no surprise that the palace had been overtaken so easily. 

Wen Ruohan, was his name.

This man was an insatiable demon, claiming to be the leader of the Wen tribes, and was adamant their forces strip down the Lan Empire from their core.

From the way they operated, it didn’t take long to understand that these were the people responsible for the Wei Clan extermination. 

Prior to this there had been no threats nor warnings.

Lan Wangji only knew that one day he woke up orphaned, and he was to run away with Brother and Uncle somewhere to find refuge. Having been hastily stuffed into an inconspicuous hay carriage with the family he had left, he wondered what sight Wei Ying woke up to on the morning his kingdom fell.

The fastest sanctuary they could retreat to was his Uncle’s villa placed outside the Imperial City, built hidden within the valleys of the countryside for his own privacy. It had been a gruesome-feeling next few months, knowing your home had been taken from you and having to live with your resentment in secrecy. 

Eventually, finally, the Vassal Kingdoms had reconvened, joining together in the mutual cause of banishing the Wens from their country in the wake of the injustices that befell the Lan and Wei Clans.

Crown Prince Lan Xichen could be thanked for the friendly discord between the kingdoms, making fast friends with Jin Guangyao of the Jin Clan and Nie Mingjue of the Nie Clan through their letters. 

The Jiang Clan had apparently been pursuing their own offensive against the Wens already, and were compliant in joining their cause. They coined it the “Sunshot Campaign,” to shoot down those who rode under the sun and befelled homes when they didn’t have their own. During months and months of non-stop fighting, the Twin Jades had learned to live amongst their troops and communally in their time on the battlefield. There was no luxury in war, and the only thing they were, were a bunch of bodies packed into tents that would raise their swords during the day and shed blood before their own could be shed.

They planned to plant a mole amongst the Wens, stage a final coup, when they got the news that Wen Ruohan had been beheaded. 

‘Or beheaded himself,’ some of the ridiculous rumors echoed.

The war was finally over, but the Twin Jades didn’t leave the Sunshot Campaign as unscathed either, it would seem. 

3. LXC Sickness

Besides watching Wangji mourn his beloved over the years and working to assemble the other kingdoms, Crown Prince Xichen himself had experienced a drain in both spiritual energy and health. 

The elder brother had ruled for mere weeks before one day he collapsed. His permanent sickly pallor and extensive fatigue couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Now that they were old enough, they were allowed to use Inquiry to implore the Gods for an answer. 

For three days and nights, Lan Wangji and the elders strummed their guqins hoping their notes would reach the high heavens.

‘Can he be healed?,’ ‘What can be done?’, ‘What’s caused this?’ their songs asked.

During the third night, their only answer was ,‘He will live this way always should he continue with his current surroundings.’

The elders were in an uproar. 

What could that mean? His family? The palace? The court? The city? His friends?

Unfortunately, it turned out to be just that. 

To Lan Xichen’s utter dismay, his health started to improve once he stopped writing to his friends from the other kingdoms. But with the elders’ worry only slightly alleviated, Xichen had been forced to recover within the isolation of the palace.

Second Prince Lan Wangji, now made Emperor, was less than ecstatic to assume the title. It was a role he never anticipated to acquire as long as his brother lived. However, if it was to relieve his brother to give him time to heal, he would do it. If it gave him enough power over their empire that Wei Wuxian could be found, he would do it.

The position was not kind to him, either. The Young Emperor could be agreeable in his letters of correspondence, but was very taciturn himself in person. He had refused to take on a harem, despite the insistence of his court. For a time, he merely humored their talks of suitors and spouses, but the news that he was engaged again is what drew the last straw. 

The conversation started with, “Your Majesty, your fiancé…she will want to write you soon.”

Lan Wangji glared at the elder from his seat at the head of the table. “By fiancé, I hope you mean Wei Ying, who is a man. And by mentioning Wei Ying I hope that means that he has been found.” he sipped his tea as he usually did these days; elegant but petulant.

The five elders all shifted in their seats uncomfortably. It was as if they didn’t want to continue this conversation, but knew they had to. 

“Wangji-” his Uncle started.

“-I will not marry any other. I do hope your efforts in finding me another spouse can be spared into finding Wei Ying, since you seem to have so much time on your hands.” He was more than aware of the tone he was using, but he couldn’t care less. The night had just turned sour.

Lan Qiren persisted. “His name is Xuanyu, of the Jin Clan. Previously he was the next candidate we were considering after Wei Ying. Now, marrying this boy would unite the Lan Clan with the most prosperous kingdom in the empire! Think about the benefits that would-”

“I will do no such thing. Please send the Jin Clan my apologies.” Another sip of tea, if not with a clenched hand this time. He really hoped his teacup wouldn’t break bearing the force.

Lan Qiren stood abruptly, his chair behind him toppling. “It has been years, Wangji! The Wens are dead, and all the kingdoms are at peace...don’t you think he would have shown himself by now if he was still amongst the living?”

Refusing to hear anymore, the Emperor nodded to the roundtable of elders and retired to his rooms for the night. He would take a cold empty room without a harem or charlatan over a room without Wei Ying in it,

Lan Wangji remembered the horror of Yiling Palace’s aftermath and offered a silent prayer to his beloved from where he sat on the floor. 

A knock. “Your Majesty? Erm...sir...Emperor-”

“Yes, what is it?” his baritone cut off them softly as he stood again.

The young servant seemed to relax now that he had his attention, smiling politely. “Our guests have just arrived. They have been served tea and are waiting to be received in the main hall.”

The royal nodded, sweeping invisible dust off his robes as he made to stand. “I will be just a moment, then. Thank you.” 

“Very well, Your Majesty.”

Watching the servant duck their head as they left, Lan Wangji let out one last deep sigh at the day that awaited him.

On this particular afternoon, the palace was bustling with an energy that it has not seen in years. It wasn’t often that the main palace was open like this to welcome esteemed guests. It was a shame how the relationship between the Lan Empire and its Vassal Kingdoms were spread so thin. 

But today was meant to change that.

Today was important.

Obliging the elder’s advice, the Emperor sought to strengthen ties with the Vassal Kingdoms, starting with Yunmeng. Especially with Yunmeng. 

After all, it was apparently the Second Prince of Jiang to credit for restoring the Lan line to the Imperial throne. 

Like the initial invasion of the Lan Clan, the bringing about the death of Wen Ruohan and his forces happened hushed and quickly, almost overnight. 

It was a small team led by none other than that Second Prince of Jiang. There was gratefulness there, of course. But Lan Wangji had been loath to acknowledge that it had been decades since the Jiangs had interacted with the Lan Clan, as was the case for the other rulers.

Because of this, Lan Wangji didn’t even know who the Second Prince Jiang was. All he had was a title and a story behind the great deeds done behind it, and none of his advisors could provide him with much more information than that. By inviting them today, he hoped to establish some connection from one Clan to another, if not for the sake of harmony amidst the end of a war.

4. Greeting the Jiangs

Lan Wangji waved off the handservant that fussed too long over his topknot as he walked. He wrung his hands together, but behind his back as to appear more collected and to keep his stance. He didn’t know why he felt nervousness crawl in his chest, but he can’t remember the last time he had to formally receive guests like this.

It might have also been because he barely had any interactions with other Royals his age besides Wei Wuxian. Then again, it even might have been that he was to meet the man who almost singlehandedly ended the manhunt for Wen Ruohan, simultaneously restoring the Lan line in his wake. 

The echo of his steps on the marble floor came to a stop, as he faced...two people, instead of the expected party of three. He nodded an elegant chin, his small acknowledgement upon his arrival, nonetheless. 

A young man around his age stepped up first, bowing in a way that betrayed his lack of enthusiasm. Lan Wangji couldn’t help but sense the man was unimpressed at him, despite this being their first meeting. 

“Greetings, Majesty. Jiang Wanyin, First Prince of House Jiang, at your service from Yunmeng.” Before the Emperor could say a word, the Prince stepped back, gesturing to the shorter woman. 

In contrast to her companion, her demeanor was much gentler, her face almost like that of the graceful maidens he’s seen in paintings. He imagined Wei Ying chuckling to himself in his own fascination and calling this pretty woman a fairy. 

“Greetings, Your Majesty. This one is named Jiang Yanli, Princess of the Yunmeng Kingdom, at your service.” Her bow was one to be modeled after, the poise and grace she held in her simple movements to be envied by any Noble Lady.

Lan Wangji hummed, and inquired after a bout of silence, “And where does the Second Prince Jiang find himself today? I was looking forward to congratulating him on his exploits during the war.”

Hearing this, Jiang Wanyin waved his hand almost in dismissal if he didn’t know any better than to be flippant. “My idiot brother is always getting sidetracked these days. He will join us eventually, but will be forced to apologize to his Imperial Majesty personally on behalf of his rudeness.”

Jiang Yanli only dipped her head with an embarrassed smile to acknowledge Jiang Wanyin’s lack of tact on this matter.

The Emperor blinked. If Prince Wanyin of all people regarded his brother as rude, he could only imagine what kind of horrifying demeanor the other Jiang Prince could have. Lan Wangji imagined the other Jiang Prince to be much alike how Xichen described Nie Mingjue to be; proud and tall with an air of puffed masculinity in his wake. He imagined battle-hardened skin and scars worn like medals, or the 

Then His Majesty remembered that Prince Jiang mentioned making his brother deliver an apology. He waved his hand, “No need.”

Again Princess Jiang took a step forward next to her brother, bowing. “We apologize for the lack of notice once again. Our brother was more than excited to meet you, Emperor. He insists on introducing himself officially. Until then, we look forward to improving relations between the Lan Clan and Jiang Clan." 

The Emperor hummed. Lady Jiang was no doubt the epitome of a calm elder sibling; radiant in not only her beauty but her ability to calm the room with just her voice. The Emperor couldn’t help but wonder how the trio of siblings would have behaved all put together.

5. The Departure 

In a dense forest on the outskirts of the city walls, a group of people are convening. The night is quiet aside from their hushed conversation and the tymbals of cicadas. 

The only woman in the group crosses her arms at the man she is talking to. Her voice is stern but full of worry to those that knew her. “Get the stone, and get out. Got it? No eating, no flirting, no shitting until you come back here in one piece,” she shoves at his shoulder to solidify her point.

The other man humored her and pretended to stumble, "I got it, I got it…say,” his smirk upturned like a fox’s, “you wouldn't mind giving me a token of luck, would you? They say a maiden's kiss is the best luck a young master could ask for before embarking on a dangerous mission."

Wen Qing scowled in disgust at the wiggle of the man’s eyebrows. Wen Ning next to her feared for the man's life for the fifth time that day.

Sensing a hand moving to hit him, the laughing man danced out of danger, calling out, "It was a joke! Besides, I'm already engaged to the most beautiful person in the world!"

The siblings watched as he trotted alongside the city guide they hired. Their two cousins that were the most experienced in carrying out field missions followed them.

Once the four figures disappeared into the foliage, the woman sighed heavily. She sat down slowly as if she had been dealing with a child the entire day. "He's so stupid. Are you sure you don't want to follow?" she turned to her brother.

The man shook his head politely. “I can’t, jiejie. He said taking three people was already suspicious enough. He usually carries out his missions on his own, anyways. I would just slow them down."

The woman slumped further into her chair, Wen Ning coming around with some tea and a look of sympathy. But the apparent exhaustion wasn’t enough to stop her from ranting, "I just don't understand that man. I mean sure, he single handedly took down Uncle, thank heavens, but must he do everything himself? I swear one of these days that dolt is going to get himself hurt and I won't be able to fix him."

Wen Ning sat across from her, his twiddling thumbs betraying his own nervousness at the thought of such a day. "I-I have faith in him, jiejie. I mean, you've brought him back from the clutches of death once. Back when they said he couldn't be helped."

Wen Qing smiled. Her brother was just the most darling thing sometimes. She couldn't resist crossing over to his side and planting a kiss on his forehead. "Because I, Wen Qing, am the best Gods damned Doctor in Qishan." And with a more muted smile, "and when this is all over we'll be free of this Clan’s curse. You and me, A-Ning."

6. (Sword Scene) A Rainy Night in Gusu

It had been a few minutes since their city guide left the party. He left with a halfhearted, “Best of luck,” then ducked into the shadows the same way they had when they entered the city.

Now on their own, the trio found a blindspot from the guard towers. If their luck held true, the mission would go undetected and they’d be out before dawn.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

The man cloaked in black clutched onto the end bamboo reed. He turned around and nodded to signal to Wen Zhong and Wen Junhui, who were hidden within the foliage of the bushes. 

A breath. 

One. 

Two. 

With the next whip of the wind in the cold night, he made his running start. 

The black-clad man could hear his breath in his ears as he sped up, ending his short sprint with stabbing the reed into the crevice he made in the ground. His prayers must have been answered as he felt the bend of the bamboo, and the tension of it traveling to the top of the reed where he held it, catapulting him in the air. 

He let go of the bamboo as he kicked his legs towards the sky, feeling the way his body made a perfect arch as his eyes teared from the momentum. It was hard, resisting the urge to cheer out loud as he saw the earth get farther away from him and the sky closer. That moment was short-lived, as his eyes darted around frantically.

Where is it, where is it, where is it? His mind chanted as he felt gravity start to pull him down once again. 

That’s when he heard it. 

His eyes followed towards where he heard the thwip of an arrow speed past his ear. He threw his arms in time to catch onto the shaft as it embedded itself in the wall, suppressing the soft “oof” he made as his chest hit against the stone. Hanging with his left arm, he managed to turn around, blindly giving a thumbs up and a glinting smile to wherever he guessed the cousins to be. 

In the bushes, Wen Zhou muttered a “Good job” to his cousin. Wen Junhui nodded, readying the bow for the next shot. 

Just as the cloaked man’s hands were slipping, he shot the next. And the next. 

Smiling, he gripped and climbed each arrow as they landed in an almost perfect ladder-formation above him.

It was a perfect pattern of each thwip of each arrow flying and landing, and the creak each made as he reached for the next. He dared not look down at the ground below him when he was about twenty arrows in. He could only guess how far the fall would be if he let go when he was already this close to the top.

The rhythmic pattern of arrows was broken, however, as he stopped himself mid-reach with a barely suppressed hiss. Bringing his right hand to his face to see it better in the twilight, he winced at the gash made there from the latest arrow, shot a second too early. 

Again turning around, the climber directed a gaze towards the bushes with as much sass as one could muster while flattened against a literal wall. 

A click of a tongue simultaneously came from the bushes at that close call. “I take that back, Junhui.” Wen Zhou held out his hand expectantly. Knowing there was no time to argue, Junhui sighed, handing over the bow in defeat. 

Wen Zhou quickly turned around and took aim, firing arrows two at a time in perfect succession. Before they knew it, the climber had grabbed onto the top and disappeared over the edge of the wall. “Showoff,” Wen Junhui nudged his cousin with an elbow. 

The other was about to make a retort when they eyed the same silhouette waving down at them.
“It’s clear. Go, go!” Wen Zhou whispered, the two cousins ducking as they jogged over to the makeshift ladder. With a boost off Junhui’s locked hands, Wen Zhou was launched at a height and caught an arrow. Once he did, he grabbed onto an arrow with each hand and started to climb. Every time he ascended, he kicked down each arrow by his foot for Wen Junhui to catch below. 

“Hurry,” Junhui whisper-yelled, looking to his left and right worryingly.

Wen Zhou made it in half the time the first man did, thanks to not having to wait for the “ladder” to form as he climbed. He grunted as he made his way to the ledge, arms just now tiring. As he neared the end, a hand suddenly darted out to grab his wrist, and he was unceremoniously pulled to the other side. 

The two men landed in a heap, but like the signal indicated, this part of the wall was empty. Lifting himself off the person he landed on, he smacked the other’s head for good measure, satisfied at the halfhearted, “What was that for, Wen Zhou?” he received.

Wen Zhou denied the man an answer, peering over the edge to look below. Wen Junhui was just finishing collecting the fallen arrows, giving the two figures a thumbs up before he darted back into the bushes to hide himself.

Nodding to the other man, Wen Zhou pointed with his chin, “Let’s go. We may have erased our point of entry, but patrols could be coming around any second. You memorized the map of the inner palace, right?”

The man in black smirked, “Of course.”

And the two disappeared deeper into the depths of the court.

----

Praying that Wen Junhui got to safety by now, the two intruders had spent the next few minutes advancing slowly into the palace. Their strategy was a combination of ducking out of view at the sound of footsteps and stalking into the shadows of the walls when they were uncertain. 

The night was mostly silent save for the faint sounds of chimes and banners being pushed by the cooling breeze lazily. Expectedly, the amount of noises to avoid only increased as they made their way to the inner courts. 

There had been a few close calls, including almost running into a maid that had been much too small to make much noise to announce her appearance around the corner the duo were hiding at. The man in black chuckled mirthlessly at the narrow escape, Wen Zhou nudging him with his palm, reminding softly. “Let’s go. We’re nearly there,” and followed behind, because the man in black was the one who had the structure of the courts memorized in his mind’s eye.

They were heading to the epicentre of danger here, en route to cross the emperor’s quarters and into the building that held what the Lans cherished most. 

It seemed impossible for them to complete this mission alive at first, but knowing the other man’s familiarity with this place, Wen Zhou―and the other members of the Wen Branch Village―held hope.

Whether that hope was too much, they’d soon find out.

------

Wen Zhou, having split from him to secure their exit, the cloaked man carefully swung himself through an open window. The lights in this room had been off, and not hearing sleeping breaths either told him that this room was currently unoccupied. He had been mentally readying himself to risk sneaking past some sleeping noble, but this was a much better outlook.

Or was better, until he came face to face with a servant just as he was about to open the next door. 

Fuck.

He barely heard her coming...was about to hide himself when the girl threw the door open with a speed he didn’t anticipate. 

Was that why the palace had so many small maids as servants? So intruders couldn’t hear them coming?!

A beat, and he realized the girl was still looking up at him, the moment frozen as he was still in his cloak and she still held her lamp. 

Well. 

Another thing he hadn’t expected was for the girl to slide the door in his face, this time almost catching his nose. He cursed, expertly throwing himself over the threshold of the window he entered from. 

He scrambled up a column and lifted himself to the roof as he distantly heard her scream for help. Almost like ripples from a water drop, the inner palace slowly lit up with lanterns as the girl spread her alarm to the other residents. “There’s an intruder! Protect the Emperor!” she yelled.

He stepped away from the ledge as he heard two voices of a man and woman in the rooms below him. The wind picked up, distorted their voices beyond the chimes and banners flicking about. But he could make out most of what they were saying.

“An intruder?”

“And at the inner courts, no less. We have to get back inside, go!”

He listened for their soft scuffle of getting back inside and shutting their door before he decided to move again. 

Keeping his body flat and close to the tiles of the roof, he eyed his destination. 

The soft cry of panic from servants and yelling of guards moving towards the Emperor’s abode seemed to follow him. The sounds of voices became louder as they all seemed to be heading towards the same place. 

He eyed the back tower, its topmost window still darkened. 

So he wasn’t too late. 

He would be soon, if he didn’t move now. 

With their plan thrown to hell, he hoped that Wen Zhou had already escaped on his own by the skin off his back. 

Meanwhile, the cloaked man would be doing the opposite, throwing himself to the dogs and headfirst into where the danger was currently accumulating.

He breathed, his latest sigh offering a wispy cloud into the cold night air before it dissipated. 

Chuckling mirthlessly, he pretended that was his last smoke before he jumped to the next rooftop, eyes never leaving his destination.

“Calm down, girl!” As hiss, coming from just outside the door.

The Emperor shared a look with his brother, and stood from the table they were currently having tea at. 

Sliding open the door, he nodded at the...many guards posted outside the entrance and down the halls. If he looked out his window, he suspected he would see the same. 

“Mianmian,” he started. 

The girl looked up at him, shaking. She had been a trusted servant of his for many years now. But never had he seen her so shaken. Teeming with worry.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for interrupting you at this time of night. I was headed towards your quarters to deliver the scrolls, but I-I ran into the intruder!” she blinked furiously, “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty. I seemed to have panicked.” Then she looked up soberingly, whispering, “I just...wanted to see for myself that you were safe.” 

The Emperor watched as the girl tried to scrub away at her tears―whether from fright or worry or both, he couldn’t tell―but laid a gentle hand on her shoulder nonetheless. “Mianmian. I have many loyal guards to protect you, me, and my brother, as you can see,” he gestured to the line of guards on each side of them. “If it will settle you, you may wait here with us until the danger passes.”

Lan Xichen somehow made his way over to the doorway as well, nodding over to their tea table and leading the girl over to sit. Mianmian’s hands didn’t stop trembling until she herself sipped at her tea, but it was understandable. 

Since their youth, the Lans and the Imperial court haven’t witnessed much danger themselves, despite the horrors that befell their closest Vassal Kingdom. The brothers couldn’t blame their servant whom they had been close with since childhood to not be used to such things, especially after facing the intruder herself. 

Leaving his brother and servant to continue their idle chatter, the Emperor made his way back to the entrance. Shutting the screen behind him, he waved away the bow his captain of the guard was about to make. The Emperor made sure to meet the Captain’s gaze, “We have guests. Are they all accounted for?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, Your Majesty. Princess and Prince Jiang have been accounted for and are currently waiting in their quarters.” Sensing the Emperor’s restlessness, he probed, “Is there more that you wanted, Your Majesty?”

“Where was the intruder sighted?”

The guard paused, saying slowly, “Between the Jiang guestrooms and the back tower.” He saw his Emperor’s brow furrow in contemplation, not liking where he sensed the conversation was going.

“The Yin Stone.” Ah, there it was.

“Yes, it is well fortified...and also accounted for!” He panicked as he saw the royal pull on his outer robes and summoned his sword. “Y-yo- your Majesty! Please,” the guard begged, “I assure you the Yin Artifact is safe and sound. I implore you to stay here in safety with your brother.” It was a white lie, but a well-meaning one. In reality, the Captain himself had thrown all his guards to the Emperor’s quarters and then assigned guards to the tower that held the Yin Stone. The safety of some Stone could come after the safety of their Empire’s ruler and guests could be secured, right? 

Objects could always be returned after being stolen. Humans probably wouldn’t survive long enough to be stolen back. 

With a sigh, the Captain inwardly guessed that the rest of his guards were just now making their formations around the tower housing the Yin Stone. He jumped to life as the Emperor started down the hall, ignoring the cries of his Royal Guard to stay where he was now. 

The Emperor, on the other hand, couldn’t be swayed. 

It wasn’t only a promise to the Gods to protect them. It was the promise he made to his beloved all those years ago that they would live long enough to protect the Yin Artifact together. 

The tower had been mostly empty save for the few guards stationed about the perimeter by default. The intruder huffed. They must’ve gone to secure the Royals first before coming back to the Stone as an afterthought. After all, what is a fragile man compared to a literal rock? 

‘Or a mountain,’ he thought with much melancholy.

But thanks to his head start, he had already ascended to the tower’s cupola. Staring down in the dark at the one thing that lit the room up, he hummed. 

The Yin Artifact, huh. The holy and blessed one. 

He imagined it to be much bigger, but it was the size of a small palm stone. 

Oh well, the easier to make off with. 

The artifact wasn’t...flickering with light, more pulsating like a heartbeat with an ivory-coloured light. It was surrounded by what looked like a very elaborate birdcage. Three steps led up to its doors, the entrance’s pattern designed after the clouds and sky. As he approached, he saw how behind these small gates, the sword itself was held upon a tall pedestal. 

He expertly broke open the latches leading to the gate and opened the entrance. Now, much closer to the ominous weapon itself, he noticed that the room was once again pitch black, save for the moonlight streaming in through the window. 

The sword had stopped pulsating, and from what little he could see, the artifact was actually streaming little wisps of black smoke. Watching in awe as the black smoke only increased as he grew nearer, he almost failed to hear the clattering of footsteps up the tower stairs. 

Shit.

Pulling the hood of his cloak back on, he made to grab the stone when he heard the first few voices. “The intruder probably came in through the window! You, men, wait below so he can’t escape this way.” Well that was one exit sealed off. Theoretically he could jump out the window and throw a line to the next building, but he suspected he would be dead by archers by then. 

Sighing at the mess the mission had become, he slotted himself next to the door. With luck the guards would swarm to the pedestal and look for the artifact, and he could slip past as they had their backs turned. 

The mass of footsteps drew nearer. 

Clutching the bag that was now surrounded by the black smoke, he secured it to his waist and readied his own sword in anticipation.

Nearer.

His heartbeat was so loud to him he thought it would pop out of his chest if he wasn’t careful. 

The entrance slammed open as the captain stalked in, two soldiers behind him with lanterns and five more with their swords at the ready. 

Just as predicted, their attention was steeled by the ajar gates surrounding the pedestal and flocked to it in their shock. 

Perfect.

Pushing himself off the wall, he ran.

Threw himself down the steps, unsure if he had already been noticed or if he was still in the clear. 

He had to get out, they were counting on him—

Almost running into the large figure in white he feinted to the left, but didn’t account for the Stone falling out of his pouch for the momentum. The scimitar secured at his belt itself was producing smoky wisps, like it was a smoking fire of its own, as if it knew it was in danger of leaving the tower. It rolled behind the white-clad man, but with his hood on he only saw up to their chest.

No matter. 

He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but lunged, his sword held out for defense. 

The other person didn’t seem to be keen on skipping out of a fight, however, and blocked the move with a scrape of swords. He was pushed back, but the intruder still tried to not take the offensive, dodging and attempting to advance past the fighter towards the fallen weapon but to no avail. 

Damn!

He was about to lift his sword again when he spotted a familiar figure in purple, watching from a distance away with her hands clasped over her mouth. 

That was all it took for the figure to stab him, the force of it expelling the air from the thief’s lungs.

He couldn’t keep his hood from falling off as he fell to the ground. The woman’s eyes enlarged in recognition, running over. “A-Xian!”

The thief finally got a full visual of his killer’s face, brows furrowing pain but not confusion. “Th-that hurt, Lan Zhan,” he rasped.

Emperor Lan Wangji didn’t know Yunmeng’s prized prince was his missing fiancé until his sword had already plunged through the man’s chest.

“A-Xian!” a woman screamed in her realization. But it sounded so far off.

The hand holding Bichen shook as much as his voice, “Wei…Ying?” he tried. “Wei Ying, is that you?!”

Lan Wangji watched in muted horror as the intruder—despite the weapon spearing his lungs—reached up to hold his face in his hands. The rough calluses on his cheeks were a sensation Lan Wangji only dreamed of feeling again. For years he imagined these hands holding his everyday as they walked through their palace. An old fantasy of his as he imagined what their future would be like.

They would sneak their hands to hold under the table as they wrote together, married but still alike some shy schoolchildren. “Boring kingdom duties,” Wei Ying would say as his fingers found their way to intertwine with his. 

These fingers would reach, lock, tangle as they made love as passionately and as often as they desired. These beautiful ten digits would be the last thing the Emperor would feel comb through his hair as they drifted off into slumber together, and the first he would grasp as a new day greeted them both.

They shouldn’t be comforting him now, brushing away the shock-stricken tears he didn’t know he had.

They shouldn’t be holding him, when Wei Ying was the one withering away.

This was wrong.

Wrong wrong this was wrong-

But the dying man; this foolish, dying man stubbornly kept his betrothed’s face locked within his hands. It looked like Wei Ying was going to hug him and Lan Wangji made a strangled noise of protest, trying to step back on weak legs to stop the other man from expediting his own death.

Heavens above, stop this. Take him to the infirmary. Make the healers stitch him back together, fix him-

Wei Ying gave him a haunting smile, a ghost of the one he remembered reached his eyes in their childhood. Without warning he stepped forward, that smile unwavering but with saddened eyes. The sword now down to the hilt below his sternum, Wei Ying reached around to have his arms forced around the Emperor’s back, locking him in place. 

The sight this position made would be endearing, had they been anywhere else. Without the weapons, war, the blood, Wei Ying could be holding him just like this at a gala and the spectre of death would be forgotten.

“I love you, Lan Zhan,” he breathed through bloodied lips. “I l-love you so much you don’t even..kn..ow...” his voice cracked.

And though the dying man was calm, but the one responsible begged, all composure lost. “I love you too, Wei Ying. So much. But we’re running out of time. You can’t do this to me, my love. You have to help me help you…please,” His speech sped up uncharacteristically, words turned stumbling and clumsy. 

His eyes were helplessly darting between Bichen’s hilt and debating whether he should just risk pulling it free and rushing to a healer, or helplessly waiting for medical attention to arrive, as an impaled man should technically not be moved.

No words came from Wei Ying, as he had since let his grip go and seemed more a despondent vessel of a body. The Emperor openly begged, heart melting. The ruler sank down to his knees as the other remained upright, reminiscent of a dead man standing. 

Was well on his way to becoming a dead man standing. The Emperor buried his face into the man’s hip, tears wicking through the fabric as his own pristine robes were bloodied in return. His hands clutching at his legs without direction.

His ears unwillingly tuned back to the scuffle happening near them, swords clashing and faint screams. Another rushing pair of footsteps approached, and the ruler still clung to the other desperately. He must’ve gripped too tightly, as Wei Ying slumped over, his body folding over the Emperor’s with Bichen still in his chest. 

The Emperor called in alarm as he lowered him to the ground, to no response. He only saw the whites of Wei Ying’s eyes as they rolled to the back of his head, his eyelids fluttering shut. Lan Wangji initially struggled at the hands that aimed to wrestle him away, but the event had drained him enough that he was unceremoniously pushed to the ground.

“Wei Wuxian! What…what is this?! Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng looked between the Emperor and his bloodied sibling, disbelieving.

The Emperor couldn’t answer, only closed his eyes and cried to himself silently. The Jiang siblings circled their fallen brother, clutching him and trying to make him wake to no avail.

The artifact was safe, but at what cost?

A Funeral

“That First Prince of Jiang, what was he thinking, doing that?”

“Prince Jiang…But he’s really that little Prince of Yiling, isn’t he?”

“He eliminates the Wens and restores his fiancé to the throne, only to invade his kingdom and with the Wens no less?!”

“Did he really kill Wen Ruohan or was this a farce all along?”

“Was it Wei Wuxian? Or was it his ghost coming to take revenge on the man who didn’t save him?”

The court’s words of gossip were absolutely poisonous. 

They had no right.

To their best ability, the incident could not be contained. Eventually word spread, the most popular version was that “an attempt had been made on the Emperor’s life, the ghost of his fiancé out to steal his life and happiness that he was robbed of.”

Ask any person in the capital and you would hear a different story, each version becoming more inaccurate and dramatic as time went on. 

What was true about that night: Wei Ying had been alive all this time, living as a Prince of Jiang, and was to reintroduce himself to the Emperor after almost a decade of separation, but Lan Wangji ended any hopes of a proper reunion himself, didn’t he? 

It was Bichen that had been driven through Wei Ying’s stomach, and his own hand that put it there. 

The night of the incident, Lan Wangji had been despondent enough that the inner court turned to his brother for direction. When the Emperor came back to himself, hours later, his mind awoke to a world now definitely without his Wei Ying in it.

He cried for another hour or two, before his brother arrived in his room and sat himself on the edge of his bed. Lan Xichen himself had bags under his eyes, obviously stressed of the recent events, but offering a small smile of comfort to his suffering sibling. 

Without needing to be prompted, Lan Xichen reached around his brother’s shoulders and held him tight, the quiet of the room aside from the small sobs dragging the younger Lan into sleep.

The funeral had been kept a private affair, held in the back courtyard. The Emperor gazed numbly as one of the servants lit the closed coffin aflame, watched as the ashes flew up to the sky, each precious ash flying and free like Wei Ying always should have been when he was alive. 

The Jiangs stood there wordlessly, much as he did. Lan Xichen joined them, and the four royals watched with broken hearts and numbed minds as the flames grew larger. The Emperor left to his quarters once the sun dipped below the horizon. If they saw how he swayed on the spot, no one mentioned it. 

Pleads sent above

In truth, the Emperor hasn’t been seen in days. Besides Mianmian, only Lan Xichen was permitted to enter his rooms. Even then, the elder brother was still sporting his sickly pallor, and could not be there for his brother as long as he wanted to before he started flagging. Mianmian was often seen helping a tired looking Prince Xichen out of the Emperor’s rooms, both with defeated looks on their faces as if retreating.

The Jiang Royals had remained as guests of the palace, if not to mourn then to wrack their heads at the final actions of their brother. For the first few days after the funeral, Jiang Yanli had been inconsonsolable, unused to the prospect of deaths even after the war. 

Having her dear A-Xian taken away from them so suddenly on what was supposed to be a happy occasion only made her tear up all the more. Her nose burned from the sensation of incoming tears, and retired to sit on her bed, exhausted just from being awake for a few hours.

Prince Wanyin, on the other hand, coped differently. He felt...anger, something boiling underneath his skin much had when he first pursued the Wens, but this time his mind was unsure of where to direct it. Who was he meant to direct that hatred towards now?

The Emperor? Who had only been protecting his Clan’s heirloom against a thief that managed to infiltrate the palace? Or should he blame the thief himself, Wei Wuxian? His brother, who’s body he watched reduced to nothing just earlier today?

If anything, he wanted to understand what the hell happened. He wanted to damn well know why Wei Wuxian was collaborating with a bunch of Wens, the same people that murdered the Wei clan in cold blood in the first place?!

Jiang Wanyin cursed inwardly. They had only discovered two Wens, one found lingering on the outskirts of the wall that had been captured and killed on the spot. The other made it farther into the palace with their brother, this one emerging from his hiding place and lashing out at the nearest guard with his sword once he saw what happened to Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Wanyin wasn’t sure what that Wen’s goal was, but he guessed the objective was to avenge Wei Wuxian based on the guttural yell he made and how his path was stalking towards Lan Wangji. That Wen didn’t make it far, though, being struck down by the Emperor’s Captain of the guard before he even made it halfway across the court.

It had been another bloodbath, for sure; one the Royals thought they wouldn’t have to witness ever again after the end of the Sunshot Campaign. Princess Yanli herself almost collapsed in her anguish, and her brother had to steady her while he struggled to remain standing in his own contained shock. 

He pinched his brow, uncaring of the tears that fell from his eyes as he stood. 

Damn these Lans. Striking first, asking later…it had all occurred much too quickly.

With all three infiltrators from that night stricken dead, who would be alive to tell them the tale of why this tragedy even befell them to begin with? Sensing a headache approaching from all the unanswered questions wracking his brain, Prince Wanyin swiped the tracks of his tears away with his sleeve. Brushing himself off and sniffing, he tried to wear his best strong face for his sister in the next room.

----

On day five, the Emperor emerged from his room. His tired gaze met the worried ones of his servants, of whom paused from where they were walking in the halls to behold their ruler. 

He was sporting days-old stubble, his eyes rubbed red and raw. His complexion was bad enough that it was nearing his brother’s, the paleness unsettling as Lan Wangji stumbled across the hall, steadying himself on the wall. He ignored the offers for help, dragging his body still in inner robes to the scene where it all happened. 

Mianmian watched with concern from afar, how Lan Wangji wobbled in his steps like a newborn fawn. It was almost like he had forgotten how to walk, and she suspected his Majesty hadn’t risen from his bed all these days. 

She sighed in exasperation as the man turned in the direction towards the tower, the scene where it all happened, and attempted to drag himself up the spiral staircase. Without a word she threw his long arm over her shoulder and supported him. 

The Emperor blinked slowly, making Mianmian wonder if the man was aware he was being helped at all. Slowly and patiently, she led him up the stairs one at a time. She ignored the sweat beginning to bead at her neck from the afternoon sun warming the stagnant air of the tower from the large windows above. 

It had taken longer than she had expected, but finally the two made it to the top of the tower. She eyed the Holy Yin Artifact floating innocently in its rightful place at the pedestal and wondered why his Majesty would want to see the object after this week’s events.

Lan Wangji seemed to come to himself then. Mianmian watched in corncern as his Majesty gently lifted his arm off her shoulders and nodded a drooping head in her direction. “Thank you,” he whispered, closing the doors behind him. 

--

The Emperor chose not to look at the heirloom that caused him to end his beloved’s life. It was too painful. It was painful to even be in this tower, but this was the point of convergence for the most spiritual energy in the kingdom, so the choice of location for this event was not his. The Lans held their seances and Inquiry sessions here for a reason, and he was about to gamble it all right here, right now. 

Summoning his guqin with a flick of his hand, he expertly played Inquiry, hoping with a foolish hope that he would get a response on the first attempt. It usually took multiple songmasters of a piece to even chance a response from the Heavens. Yet, a part of Lan Wangji’s body told him that his utter desperation now would be enough to warrant the Gods’ attention. 

Upon the last note strummed, a disembodied force strummed a note after him. 

Lan Wangji wanted to cry in happiness.

The Gods were merciful on him this once, it seems.

‘His Majesty weeps.’ The notes read almost bluntly.

The Emperor sighed, playing again. ‘I have sinned. I have taken away life from the one person that deserves it the most,’ he implored. ‘I cannot live knowing he has died. I am willing to trade my life… anything to reverse my mistakes. Please. This humble servant of yours cannot continue his divine task this way. Not even if he tried.’

Lan Wangji realized there were better ways to word this, but it was the truth. All tact was thrown out the window. Especially when it concerned Wei Wuxian.

There is a coolness surrounding him and the room now. The goosebumps and hairs stand up in attention on his skin as he feels like he is being circled like predator on prey. Before that fear could consume his thoughts again, he closes his mind to the physical world. He centers his qi until the room around him falls away, the floorboards, the sun from the window hitting his face, and the clothes on his body could not be noticed anymore. In this door he has opened, he understands that the energy surrounding him are the representations of whatever forces he has summoned. He hopes they are the Gods he has been searching for.

‘Prince of Yiling, now Second Prince of Jiang. Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian,’ the forces took turns playing.

‘Yes,’

‘He is not meant to survive. Not in this time as it is now.’

Pausing to process every word, the Lan tried to understand. ‘This time?’ Was there something wrong with this world that had doomed Wei Ying’s life from the start? He shuddered inwardly. Was it...him?

As if sensing his inner demons, the force continued playing, ‘The fault does not lie with you, Emperor. Your beloved would not have survived in this world past this week. It is his fate here.’

He strummed back with barely contained impatience, ‘Wei Ying’s fate is his own. I am asking for the chance to return him his life that I had stolen so that he can choose what to do with it. I want Wei Ying to be free. Free from suffering by my own mistakes.’ 

It had been an unsettling minute before he received the next response. ‘How far are you willing to venture, Your Majesty?’

His response came in less than a beat. ‘To the ends of the earth. From heaven to hell, I would bear it all for him. Even my life. Please.’

The stubborn muscle of a heart was working overtime in his chest, pumping blood so loudly in his ears he was scared that he missed the Gods’ reply. Looking down at the strings, he saw that they stood still. Unplayed, and for too long at that. His hands grazed the strings before they were played by the forces again.

‘Son of Heaven,’ it started.

‘Yes.’

A sour note was played. To Lan Wangji it sounded like it would have been a sigh.

‘What our Son of Heaven is requesting is the impossible. Never has a mortal-being been returned without perishing immediately after. Such are the laws of life.’

Once again impatience controlled his hands on the strings. He was sure if they weren’t calloused as they were already, they would be streaming blood by now. ‘This situation, is different is it not? Wei Ying met his end upon the deliverance of a divine requested by the gods. Should his life not be the exception?’

Another sour note.

This time it was followed by a sudden warmth at his side.

Focusing his mind once again form the physical world, Lan Wangji knew that that sensation had been a dismissal of one of the spiritual forces in the room.

One of the gods had left.

The strumming from his own fingers became more frantic, the sting under his nails increasing along with the realization. ‘Please, for years I have been asking for one thing, and he has been amongst the living all the time, only to be taken away again by myself. Please. I will only ask for this one thing for as long as I live. Your humble servant asks this. Please.’

He is shaking from his shoulders down to his knees. Pouring your repressed sentiments by guqin was not exactly the most freeing feeling in the world. Lan Wangji would much rather prefer to scream into a cushion than express his frustration through song at the moment, yet his composure was the only foundation he had in this room. If he lost it, he might lose his chance at getting Wei Ying back.

Now the coldness left his right side.

No.

‘Many apologies, Son of Heaven. But miracles such as these cannot be granted. We have seen their ends many times, and your wish will not end differently. We are sorry. We continue to hold you in the highest regard.’

A chorus of different voices swam through his mind, a cacophony of ‘We are sorry’ and ‘it cannot be done’ fizzled and fissioned before him. And like the rest of his yarn was being pulled from him, he could feel the spiritual forces leave the room, one-by-one, bringing his hope with them.

Wangji guqin dropped with a clang on the nearest table. A small crashing noise in addition to the bitter sound of a string breaking resonated throughout the room.

The Emperor crumpled next to it. He had to hold both hands to his chest to keep the remaining warmth there. There was a very real fear that if he let go, he would never feel anything ever again.

But that warmth…it moved. It was moving.

What was this? Was this where the remnants of his sanity crumbled as well?

With his body limp on the floor he chose to surrender whatever life remained in this body to whatever was happening, whatever was to come. For the first time in years, the tenseness in both his body and spirit relaxed.

Either that resolve had worked or his sanity really had been shattered, because when he looked up again Wangji-guqin was floating by itself back to the table in front of him.

No. It might’ve felt good, but this was insanity.

He allowed his gaze to linger over the six remaining strings of his guqin, and saw that they were being strummed. He blinked once, twice, before he put his face inches away from the strings with wild eyes like a madman, his ears too excited but his vision translating what the notes should have sounded for him. The strings read, ‘Son of Heaven,’ over and over again.

Reconnecting with himself again, he could not only hear properly after that initial shock, but he could feel the small warmth of whatever lingering spirit decided to take pity on him this day.

‘I am here, your humble servant,’ he quickly replied, jumping over the obstacle of playing with a broken string with ease.

This spirit was definitely different. It definitely did not hold the same power as the gods he could sense before, but the fact the Lan Wangji was talking to anyone right now immediately nulled that fact. He was a desperate man, if anything.

The next notes were short and flitting, like the conversation had shifted to a more lighthearted tone. Definitely different.

Lan Wangji couldn’t help but feel like he had sealed himself to a binding-contract without his knowledge. ‘Your Wei Wuxian cannot live in this time. That soul of his simply has a shadow sticking to him. A death sentence, if you will.’ 

The Emperor blinked back tears but continued to listen. ‘For your fiancé...’ the spirit took a dramatic pause as if contemplating its next words. ‘there is exactly one way to save this soul. But only if you are wholly willing to risk everything. The journey will not be pretty. I must warn you, Son of Heaven.’

‘You must know I am willing to bear it all. For him,’ he strummed.

 Another lilting note, as if surprised at this. Then it continued, ‘To save the soul of Prince Wuxian is to eliminate the one who drenches himself in resentful energy and comes into possession of the Yin artifact that you protect.’

Back to the artifact again. Wei Ying’s fate was connected to it just as his was. It was all coming together now; he had to find this person that desired the power of the artifact, the person who would cause Wei Ying to steal it for them. He had an idea but he couldn’t be sure.

‘Who is this person?’

‘You cannot be told. But this person’s fate is directly tied to your Wei Ying’s. You must be the one to stop the person who will weaponize your Clan’s heirloom to control the evil that lies beneath the earth. This is a part of your divine task, Emperor of Lan... Succeed, and you will have your reward. Fail, and you will find yourself back here, at the very beginning.’

The Emperor shook his head at the latter. ‘How do I find them?’

‘Again, I cannot disclose. But this person is your enemy by nature. You represent the world’s light. This person has ways to antagonize that with their own evil. With such opposing fates, do not worry. You will find each other naturally.’

And that was fine. Fine, he would do it.

There was a warmth in his chest, this time not coming from the spirit at all, much to his surprise. This feeling…it was blooming. What was it hope? The feeling of having a new purpose?

‘Son of Heaven,’ the spirit prompted.

He nodded his head in resolution. There wouldn’t be failure in this new chapter of his life as he had previously. He would protect Wei Ying, from whatever forces sought to harm his soul, from whatever was out there that prevented Wei Ying from getting the ending he deserved. ‘I accept,’ he strummed true.

A high note played, and this one was pleased. If there was a face in front of him to represent the little spirit, he would have seen a smiling one.

The note reverberated for a second before it became ever louder, then continuing to grow in volume, until the Emperor had no choice but to shield his ears and the ceremonial glasses across the room shattered.

The Wangji-guqin disappeared from his reach, the room around him swirling dangerously. His eyes closed in defense against the nausea.

At first he thought it must have been the obligatory dizzy spell after his week-long seclusion period. Yet looking at the dark smoke that began to circle around him like a tornado told him otherwise. The whirling sound of the air only grew louder, and he couldn’t help but cover his ears again as the air screamed. It was like a screech of some horrid, tortured animal, and just when he was sure his eardrums would pop it all stopped. It faded to black.

The first thing he registered was the coldness of the floor against his back. His fingers twitched, then his arm attempted to move ever-slowly, but the heaviness of his body kept him from propping himself up on his elbows like he wanted to.

Blinking away at the white that engulfed his vision, slowly but surely two figures came into focus above him. 

“Wangji? Are you alright now? You gave us a scare, there. Here,” A solid grip on his forearms and suddenly the world was tilting up.

 Xichen.

“I…” Lan Wangji hissed and clutched at his temple. It was inevitable from sitting up so fast, the blood rushing back far too quickly for his body’s liking.

“Take it easy Wangji,” his brother said.

The younger Lan looked around in confusion. People…there were people here. He met the faces of all the elders sitting in a perfect circle about the previously empty room, situated in the same formation their Clan would have for their sessions to suppress the Yin artifact. 

Speaking of which, Lan Wangji was relieved to find the heirloom in its rightful place, sitting at its usual spot at the far side of the room. 

He was about to ask when they had all arrived here. How long was he out for?

Had his encounter with the being been so intense that his Clan had to gather to summon him back into his body? Or had he awoken in another time, like the deity had mentioned?

Now sitting up without the support, he barely had the time to compose himself when he got the answer to his question.

A guard burst through the doors, panting and trying to catch their breath. “The...The Yunmeng forces are here! They’ve already overtaken the main gate! We must evacuate immediately!”

Lan Xichen took the command immediately. Lan Wangji felt a tinge of nostalgia seeing such might in his sibling after seeing him weakened by his sickness for so long. Snapping out of his thoughts, he followed after the elders as they were ushered out by their guards, staying behind to make sure he was the last one to get out safely. 

He retook his place next to his brother, but paused in shock as he saw the glint of metal near his face… no pointed at his face. The sword lowered to his neck, his brother turning around and running back towards him. “Wangji!”

Lan Wangji lifted his gaze to meet the intruders. All that met them were purples and violets, the proud colors of Yunmeng. But only one figure stood before them all.

His shock must have been barely concealed because Wei Ying’s… his Wei Ying’s face was there. But that face did something unfamiliar. It was morphed into one of amusement as the sword came closer to line up at his neck, “Hello, Second Prince of Lan. At last we meet! You are much more beautiful in person, I must say.” A wink, but this one full of malice.

‘Wei Ying,’ he wanted to plead, ‘Beloved, what are you doing?’

But he couldn’t, because Wei Ying soon rounded up the rest of the group while four guards flocked Lan Wangji and his brother on either side.

He purposefully tapped shoulders with one of the men surrounding him, if not only to have some physical sensation that this was indeed real, that this wasn’t some sick trick on his psyche borne from false hope.

His mind soon raced with the information that was currently hitting him. Yunmeng forces. He called me Prince. Wei Ying is here, he’s alive.

“What did you say?” Wei Ying whipped his head around to walk up to him, meeting him eye level. His gaze was fleeting but searching. Almost desperate.

“My brother didn’t say anything,” snapped Xichen. He grunted as one of the guards pushed him forward. “Maybe the spoils of war have gotten to your head, First Prince Jiang.”

First Prince Jiang. Wei Ying was a Jiang here, just as he had last become in the timeline Lan Wangji departed. But what was the status of Yiling in this world, then?

Wei Ying...First Prince Jiang laughed mirthlessly, and the guards restrained the brothers as he tapped his sword against their chest. “I must say, Prince Xichen, that while the stories of the Twin Jades’ beauty have been found to be unmatched,” he raised an elegant brow, “their decorum might not be.” He sniffed. “But no matter, you Lans will be taken back to the Imperial City, and you will finally answer for your crimes.”

Lan Wangji was separated from his brother once more, and the only comfort he had in doing so was that his brother didn’t seem to be as sickly as he had last seen him.

But in his world the Imperial City had been in the Lan Kingdom. What was the Imperial City in this world if not that?

These questions were soon answered as the next sight that greeted him after his carriage ride. It was purple, everything was purple. For the first time in his life, he was in Jiang territory.

Blinking against the bright rays of sun that flocked Lan Wangji and his appointed guard troupe, he faintly heard a crowd cheering until these noises of celebration grew as they walked through the streets to approach the steps of a palace. Purple-clad warriors cheered, raising their swords and pumping them as if they wanted to stab the skies. Little children danced ahead of them, throwing flowers and grains and whatever else they could adorn the party with. Walking out front, Wei Ying had a flower stuck in his hair and heartily received claps on the back with a smile.

“Where is he? Where the fuck is he?” hollered a voice.

Lan Wangji watched as a young man parted the crowd and walked up to Wei Ying. “So this is where my brother’s been, huh? Nothing much, just ending the war?”

He had never been good at reading people, but in the short time he has known Prince Jiang Wanyin in his world he knew that understanding anything about this man simply escaped him. This was moreso, when Jiang Wanyin’s face morphed from a scowl into a smile, smacking Wei Ying on the back and raising their clasped hands together. The crowd around them roared in cheers, and the party was further pushed towards the Palace entrance.

There they met with another group already waiting there, the group guarding Xichen. Whatever energy spurned his brother earlier seemed to be drained from him now, as the elder met his look with a defeated one. This was all too familiar. It reminded him of the sickness that plagued his brother’s body in his last world, and seeing the droop of Xichen’s body now…Wangji just hated it.

“Today,” the voice of Wei Ying hollered, “marks a glorious day for the Yunmeng Empire. The day we tore down the remnants of the old Imperial City and finally replace it with our own. Today we bring about a new age!” Wei Ying’s proud chest seemed to inflate as his men cheered around him. When the noise died down, he brought himself before the Twin Jades with Jiang Wanyin at his side. “Now what to do with our spoils of war…” he tapped his chin with a grin. “What do you think, A-Cheng?”

Lan Wangji tried not to shift uncomfortably as Jiang Wanyin looked them up and down with an unimpressed sniff. “What lies ahead is up to them. Because you see,” he almost glared, “Silly songs and scented smoke will do little for you now. Your so-called Holy City has fallen, along with your ancient Lan Empire. What remains of your people will be decided in the next moment. So I’ll let the Twin Jades decide. You may surrender with your Holy City along with all the weaponry it produces, or you can die today, and the tyrannical story of the Lans will die out with you. Choose.”

As if this speech empowered him, Xichen absolutely bristled. “What weaponry? How can you invade a City looking for weaponry that doesn’t exist? You know this yourself, Prince Jiang, we have always been a Holy City. All the Lan Empire has existed for was in servitude to the gods.”

Mocking laughter sounded throughout the room.

“Your gods, Prince Xichen, are responsible for your fall in the first place. You say that your lives have been in servitude, but look where it has gotten you. As for your weaponry,” he gestured, “We already have it.” Two soldiers quickly unwrapped a cloth, brandishing none other than a small sabre. The holy artifact. Lan Wangji’s eyes widened. How could he have forgotten?

Jiang Wanyin sensed his reaction and grinned as he paced, and Wei Ying seemed to shrink into himself. “This sabre, this so-called Holy Artifact of legend, has been in the Lan’s possession for ages. For years they have been guarding the ultimate weapon of destruction. This thing that has led men to their most destructive thoughts, the things that has taken life of Prince Wuxian of legend. We are only lucky that he has found himself with us today.”

What…what?

“And that’s why,” Jiang Wanyin tossed the sabre between his hands, as if juggling some toy. “Today you decide whether you will help us destroy this weapon and continue living, or you will throw your people’s lives away including your immortal ones. Which will it be?”

Xichen spared a glance at his younger brother but Wangji was of no help. Because Wangji was shaking with desolate eyes focused on the floor beneath him.

Not willing to lose anymore this day, Xichen simply nodded his head. It seemed that Wangji was in no state to make an escape nor did Xichen think he could convince him into doing so anytime soon. The elder Lan spoke amongst the hurrahs, “But the safety of my people must be guaranteed. You have our kingdom, all I ask is that you keep those who remain alive.”

At Jiang Wanyin’s nod, the room erupted once again.

The war was finally over.

A hammer pounded something fierce in his head, and from the chaos of his first day here the stress of experiencing it all wasn’t helping much either. He raised his head at the slight creak of someone entering his single cell and closing the door behind them. Lan Wangji couldn’t make out their face until their approach into the beam of moonlight at the middle of the room showed that it was none other than Prince Wanyin. “Jiang Wanyin,” he greeted numbly.

“Stop with the nonsense, Lan Wangji. I didn’t come here for courtesy.”

The Jiang’s slow footsteps encircled the Lan, and he had to exhale for what was to come. “I just wanted to get a good look at you. At the man who killed my brother, all those years ago.”

So it was true. All of it, everything he hoped for was here, but the horrible story behind it was true.

“Please tell me,” Lan Wangji begged. “What year is it, what’s happened in this world, what happened to Wei Ying?”

“This world?” Jiang Wanyin stopped in his tracks, looking offended. “A century has passed since you killed my brother, but I guess since the former ‘Son of Heaven’ has gained immortality, time has slowed down for you so much that every little event is just that insignificant to you. Is that it? Was Wei Ying just a puppet to you? You spend half your life together, planning a future together, then you figured that wasn’t the life you wanted and killed him off to start a new chapter. What else to the story is there?”

The Lan had to bring his eyes to the ceiling to keep the tears from falling. “I don’t understand, Prince Wanyin. I genuinely don’t understand. Please tell me what you know, please.”

Never in his life has Lan Wangji had to beg like this. But if his worst fears were confirmed; if this was the same world he thought he departed, the world where he really did kill Wei Ying, he had to understand.

The gods seemed to have mercy on his poor soul, as Jiang Wanyin seemed to sense his genuine confusion. “Do you really not know? Is it…that you were reincarnated just like we were?”

Reincarnation. So that’s it.

But that’s not what happened to Lan Wangji. As far as he knew, he was still the original Lan Wangji. The same Emperor of the Lan Empire and the one to kill his beloved on a cold night. Over the years he had apparently stepped down as a Prince once more, which was understandable seeing the sorry state he was in after Wei Ying’s death. But why Xichen had not stepped into his rightful place as Emperor escaped him. Maybe they decided to lose the titles and simply rule together. Apparently that didn’t work so well considering their now-fallen Empire.

“No,” his lips started for him, “It seems that I am indeed immortal. I remember the Yiling Kingdom, my engagement, welcoming you and Lady Jiang into the Palace that day, and…killing Wei Ying that night.” To him, these events literally happened weeks ago, though he didn’t voice this.

His captor crossed his arms and chuckled. “And so it is. The original murderer is here with me in this room. Wei Ying and I weren’t so lucky. He of course, perished first, and I reincarnated twenty years ago, regaining my memories of my past life when I was fifteen. Wei Ying never regained his memories, and for that he is lucky.” Lan Wangji found himself pushed back, and with his hands tied behind his back he could do nothing but topple as Jiang Wanyin towered over him. “Wei Ying was lucky to forget you. Back then he was obsessed, in the time you two were separated after Yiling-Wei’s fall. Obsessed with your likeness, even though the Jiangs were the ones that took him in. That day he was so excited to meet you, though the only thing he met that day was your Bichen.”

The former Emperor’s tears fell from his cheeks to the corner of his ears as darkness encased the cell once again with Jiang Wanyin’s exit. “I suggest that you refer to him as Jiang Ying, for now on. That is who he is, now.”

It was hours later after that confrontation, early morning Lan Wangji guessed. He could only use the sliver of light that entered his cell, and his body clock’s sleeping schedule to judge time at all. That was when the figure of his beloved slipped into his cell, not having brought a torch with him but a bundle of food, tip-toeing across the room to sit before him with a whisper, “Sorry I’m late. It’s a few hours past midnight but I wanted to sneak you some food since I’m sure you haven’t eaten yesterday and they serve late breakfast to the prisoners here.” He undid Lan Wangi’s restraints on his hands and slipped him a bundle of bread while he shoved a piece into his mouth. “Eat,” he muttered.

The former Emperor bit down on a biscuit slowly, never letting his gaze leave the man before him. “Prince…Jiang, who exactly are you?” he asked.

Wei Ying coughed on a piece he was chewing and the former instantly felt regret at causing it. “I guess it is weird having your invader sneak into your cell to give you food before dawn, is it not?” The Lan was graced with soft laughter, a song he yearned to hear again for ages. “Don’t worry,” Wei Ying’s voice cut into his thought, “Your brother and people have been fed as well.”

And Lan Wangji was sure he did. His beloved had always been a righteous person for all the time he has known him, reincarnated body or not. His soul shone through regardless.

Speaking of soul, he had to make sense of that night, why Wei Ying was after the Holy artifact and how he could stop that from happening again. Because the Holy artifact still existed, in this time, unfortunately, and so did the premonition of someone who would wield its power still loomed strong. Who was Wei Ying bringing it to that night and why? Was it a Wen? Did Wei Ying understand that whomever he was stealing it for was the wrong person? Or had he been convinced to believe as such?

So many questions bounded across his mind, but he couldn’t forget that the man who could potentially answer them all was right before him.

“Wei-Wei Ying,” he tried. Jiang Wanyin was going to kill him.

Wei Ying let the piece of bread he was holding fall to the floor. “What did you just call me?”

“Wei Ying,” he repeated, and this time he made sure his tone was steady and true.

The other simply scoffed. Then he shifted his sitting position with the same squeamishness Lan Wangji recalls seeing from him in the throne room when they arrived at the palace earlier in the day. “I think you find yourself confused, Prince Wangji.”

The Lan shook his head. Wei Ying may have been born of different circumstances this time, but his soul would always be that of the Wei Wuxian who hailed from the Yiling Kingdom, then was loved by the Jiang Kingdom.

“Yiling?” Wei Ying asked, “What did you say about Yiling?”

“I said nothing.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, okay. I know I heard something.” He hesitated before starting again, “I know very little about Yiling-Wei. Only the legends. Today Yiling should be nothing more than rock mountaintops.” Wei Ying steered himself closer, getting into his space unknowingly. “It is I that should be asking you that, Prince Wangji. After all you are the immortal master that has lived through it all, are you not?”

If Wei Ying already understood him to be the original and not a reincarnation, then there was not helping it when he already knew this much. “I am,” he confirmed.

But then the body next to his stood abruptly, as if burned from the proximity. “And so we have you, finally. After decades this struggle will end. Your people have been wavering, Prince Lan, weakened by your faith. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to capture you.” He redid the bindings, muttering under his breath, “The ultimate war of attrition, is it not?” The sound of the rope tightening made him wince, besides the pinching feeling on his wrists. His body felt slowed, sluggish, like one of his bad days.

Wei Ying turned to him after he stood, looking slightly remorseful. “I..I’m sorry, but they’d have my head if they didn’t see you in immortal binding cables. They need to see that they’ve won.”

His beloved turned to leave, and that was the last thing Lan Wangji wanted to happen. “Wei Ying,” he called out. “Stay, please.”

It wasn’t much. It was futile, it was so stupid that it was worth a chance. But Lan Wangji was never one that had been good with his words, after all.

The face of his fiancé turned towards him, gracing him once again. But it was cold like jade. “Like I said, you are mistaken, Prince. I was born to the Jiangs twenty-two years ago. I am the rightful and filial first son of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. I am the proud brother my A-Cheng and A-Jie. And this happy life of mine will continue,” Wangji wasn’t sure if the man knew he was sobbing but he went on speaking, “it will all continue because we are going to destroy your accursed weapon graced upon you by your “gods”.”

The former Emperor looked down. For the first time in his being he did not know how to comfort Wei Ying. So he remained silent.

“Come on,” Wei Ying’s voice faked strain as he hefted the Lan to a standing position. “Off we go. You have a celebration to prepare for.” With that he felt a push at the small of his back to move forward.

Over the next hour, Lan Wangji found himself stripped of his white colors and dressed in purple. All the heirlooms of silver he ever wore were tossed aside and replaced with that of gold colors he wasn’t familiar with donning. The immortal binding cables became his main accessory.

No tears were shed because of this, no. He had greater things to occupy his thoughts, after all.

A sharp slap resounded throughout the throne room, the servants serving them having excused themselves to run off in a hurry.

Jiang Wanyin held his stinging cheek, having stumbled to steady himself on one of the arms of the thrones.

“Invading the last remaining Holy City,” boomed Jiang Fengmian, all the while advancing on his son. “Taking A-Ying with you and using my troops…!”

“Father, I apologize, I should have told you. But we had our chance, our spies opened up an opportunity that could not be missed and the time it would have taken to get to you first,” Jiang Cheng shook his head, bowing deeply. “This one is sorry.”

The king exhaled, reigning in his anger to focus on his son. “You are not a child anymore, A-Cheng! This is a…a war you have been brewing behind my back all these years! Dethroning the Lans from the Imperial City is not something a “sorry” will cover! What will our allies think of such aggression against the last Holy Land?!”

Jiang Cheng lowered himself to a kowtow. The coolness of the tile against his forehead was his only comfort for what he was bound to say next. “Esteemed father, this one was only trying to continue the work of his past life. To gain retribution for his brother’s murder and to ensure the destruction of the Holy artifact once and for all.”

“You…!” The King himself has not remembered his past life, but with his son able to recall events of his past life he should have known such a thing would happen. But this was far too large a mistake to forgive. Years and years of wearing down the Lans without his permission. Under his name.

No, it could not be forgiven. “If this is about A-Xian…”

“Of course this is about A-Xian, father!” his son shot up, “I remember that day, when A-Xian was influenced by that evil weapon and was cut down for it. I remember how his own beloved Emperor cut him down in cold blood! I warned them, those Lans, to surrender that damn sabre and for years they have resisted, hiding behind their prophecies and holy rules and sanctions. And today I want to destroy it. I never want to see history repeat itself again, father can’t you understand that? What if the same thing happened to A-Niang or A-Jie? What then?” The prince was crying in front of the king but he say no one else here for it to matter.

“A-Cheng,” he sighed. “I understand that you’ve only wished to relinquish that which has caused harm to your family in the past, I do. I don’t recall it, but I know that the three of you siblings struggled after your mother and I died at the hands of the Wens. I’m sorry. But this,” he gestured to the walls and palace around them. “This cannot be obtained nor upholded by sheer force of attrition alone. The Lans are an ancient line of people entrusted by the gods to carry out their will here on earth. That includes protecting the holy artifact and whatever power it might hold. No one knows why Wei Wuxian tried to steal that weapon that day, not even the folktales could make up a fitting story. I’m not implying that Emperor Lan should have killed his fiancé, but he was fulfilling his divine duty in doing so.”

“Are you implying that he should cut down A-Xian again?”

“Of course not, A-Cheng!”

Neither of them noticed the footsteps retreating from the throne room until it was too late.

The king’s eyes widened. “Who was- A-xian? A-xian!” he called out, but he was met with no answer.

He turned to his youngest once more. “We will host your celebration, only because it is too late to cancel. But we will talk of this later, A-Cheng.” He straightened his robed and returned to his chambers without another word.

The celebration of the end of the ‘war’ started early in the night, so that the visitors could watch the sun setting over the horizon as the band played on the balcony below. Drinks were making their way around but sloppily, with glasses an swords and treasures stolen from the Lans strewn everywhere as soldiers and warriors drunkenly brought their spoils to surround the throne.

Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Yanli sat a little ways away from their king, preferring to sit on the milder side of the party as Fengmian was slowly becoming just as sloppy as the rest of the rowdy warriors that laughed and surrounded him.

 He caught sight of his middle child. “Oh, A-Xian, A-Xian come here!” he swayed only slightly, Prince Wuxian coming looking embarrassed out of the crowd to keep his father from stumbling. “How is our A-Xian this evening?”

“I am doing well, father, thank you.”

More would have been said if the crowd hadn’t parted with sounds of both women and men fawning and oogling at the new arrivals. From the top of the staircase descended the Twin Jades of Lan, looking immaculate despite being dressed for the first time in foreign colors. Their whites had been replaced with the soft lilacs and purples of the Jiang clan, their silver replaced with gold, one strip of gold lining their foreheads and the rest on their necklaces and bracelets that swayed with every step they took. Their last hint of gold were their immortal binding cables, serving as their ‘waistbelts’ for the night. Lan Xichen took Lan Wangji’s hand at an especially loud whistle that came their way, glaring in that general direction before they finished their descent. They came to a stop before the throne, offering their greetings with a half-bow.

Jiang Fengmian laughed, and the stench of alcohol from his breath hit Lan Wangji’s nose which made him sway a little. Xichen steadied him.

“My my, A-Xian. I’ve heard you wax proses about the legendary Twin Jades but never did I think you were telling the truth!” the warriors around the throne laughed merrily along with him.

Before he could be engulfed in drunken hugs, Jiang Wanyin escaped the circle of warriors and signaled to his brother with a nod of his head. Just like they practiced, Prince Wanyin cleared his throat, and the men all whipped around to look at them. “As for you, father, A-Xian and I have prepared a gift. We apologize for pursuing our exploits on our own, but we will not apologize for our victory.”

“And so,” his brother continued for him, “we present to you our King, the Holy artifact, taken by myself from the Lan Palace tower.” Lan Wangji watched as his beloved brandished the sabre, placing it into Jiang Fengmian’s hands and their companions clapping their congratulations around them.

“Happy birthday, father.” Said the Jiang Princes in unison.

“And many years to our king!” the room resounded after them.

More clapping and the festivities resumed, this time Jiang Yanli made her way over to kiss her father on the cheek. “It is a beautiful sword, father. Truly a legendary artifact if there ever was one,” she remarked.

Jiang Fengmian agreed, gripping the sword in both hands and nodding.
“Is something the matter, father?” she asked, growing worried.

Again the King nodded, but this was soon followed by a small trickle of red slipping past his palms. “Father, you’re bleeding!” Yanli exclaimed. She leaned past the armrest to try and ease the blade out of her father’s hands when she screamed.

Yu Ziyuan made her way over, along with others after they noticed the commotion. “A-Li, what happened? What happened, Fengmian?” she turned to her husband after seeing that her daughter’s fingers had been burned somehow.

“Fengmian?” she said again, noticing his face had gone blue. “Fengmian!”

She wished she hadn’t looked down because her husband’s hands were rotting, the skin bubbling with his hands still glued around the sabre even though it was obvious he wanted nothing more than to let it go.

“Someone get that damn thing off of him!” she screamed.

Warriors tried, as well as all of the Jiangs, but none could do it without getting their hands burnt horribly. From the way their King shook told them they didn’t have much time. “Move! Someone fucking help him!” cried Wei Wuxian, of whom was out of reach from the crowd. “Move!”

But the veins of Jiang Fengmian’s neck turned purple and his convulsions soon came to a stop. The Jiang Queen and princess screamed in their horror as his brother pointed straight at him. “Murderer!”

Amidst the confusion guards and warriors alike struggled to grab him but he dodged and shoved other nobles behind him as he ran. He planned to make his escape through the back entrance when a hand grabbed his, and soon he was submerged in water.

“Ugh!” he resurfaced, coughing up water with what he guessed was the pond from the lower balcony. He swam to the edge, turning wildly to find whoever just grabbed him and made him jump three floors when a he heard a fwip of something fly past his head and he ducked instinctively. Judging from the freshly shot poisoned arrow next to his head, he made the right choice.

“Come on,” a familiar voice said, and he had to adjust his eyes to find that it was none other than Lan Wangji before him, gently guiding him to sit so they could hide amongst the shrubbery.

“Are you hurt?” that deep baritone asked him.

“I-ah,no.” he replied dumbly.

That immaculate Lan exhaled, as if he was actually worried for his wellbeing. “That’s good.”

But the adrenaline was still pumping throughout Wuxian’s body, not to mention they were in what not was enemy territory. “Follow me,” he muttered, and Lan Wangji followed without complaint.

The rest of their escape from the Yunmeng capital was uneventful, save for ambushing two guards to steal their horses, then having both arrows and swords flung past their heads. They don’t even recall how they made it out of the gate alive, but that went unspoken as the two rode into the night. The only reason they stopped was because Lan Wangji saw that the other was flagging, and they had hit an oasis. While Yiling had been mountainous and Gusu full of cities and valleys, Yunmeng had been the gateway between the desert and the grasslands. How lucky it must have been for them to escape but to the middle of the desert.

Lan Wangji watched the horizon for movement warily while he let his exhausted beloved tie up his horse then melt into the sand beneath him. Understanding that Wei Ying wasn’t going to do it anytime soon, the Lan efficiently gathered a pile of wood and lit it with his hand. This was all he could do with the immortal binding cables still wrapped around his waist. He chanced a nudge at Wei Ying’s foot, urging him to come closer to the fire. Desert nights were unforgiving, or so he heard.

Wei Ying had groaned, rolled over just inches away from getting burned and covered his face with his arms. “I didn’t kill my father.” He said.

“I know.”

Both outer robes were set to dry near the fire. The wood crackling wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

The younger sat up suddenly. “Why did you help me?”

“Because I wanted to.”

A humorless laugh. “Ah, I forgot. You just wanted the chance to escape. You knew I had the key to your immortal binding cables and would have your precious holy weapon.”

“What did you just say?” Wangji didn’t mean to snap, but he did.

“Your precious weapon? Hello?” Wei Ying gestured to the leather pouch around his leg. He wiggled his thigh, but stopped with a hiss and quickly unlatched the pouch as it dropped to the ground.

The sharp intake of breath from Lan Wangji should have been expected seeing the mottled burns that seared through Wei Ying’s pant leg and the skin underneath.

The other prince followed his gaze. “Oh…this? I thought it would be okay to grab it with leather. And the dip in the pond definitely helped, but I guess I didn’t notice this until now.”

“Wei Ying, you might be poisoned. Let me see it.”

Those words worked like a whip. The man on the ground snapped his body back up and immediately pulled himself away. “That again? I told you, I’m not your Wei Ying or whatever you think I am. You killed him a hundred years ago, and you need to live with that!”

Wei Ying was crying now, and continued to pedal himself back with his hands and dragging his injured leg with him. He resembled a scared, tortured animal and Lan Wangji couldn’t say he had much experience coaxing one. Once again, he didn’t know how to help his beloved.

But he could damn well try.

Crouching on his knees, Lan Wangji followed the sniffling back to its owner, who was now slumped against a tree and furiously scrubbing at his face.

“I’m sorry I called you Wei Ying. I know you prefer to go by Jiang Ying, but-“

“I don’t prefer to, I am!” he sobbed.

“I understand,” said Lan Wangji. He had his hands raised in a surrender, glancing down at the cables around his waist to remind Wei Ying that he could no harm even if he had wanted to. “Just let me help. Please. It has been a long day and you don’t want it to end with being poisoned.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Stop.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his tone or if Wei Ying simply didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, but weakly gesturing to his leg he allowed the Lan to approach it.

And upon closer inspection, it really…didn’t look good. The man didn’t seem to be poisoned, but the external burns on his skin weren’t pretty, especially with the bloodied fabric almost welded into it. With careful fingers he slowly tried to lift the pant leg. This only earned him a pained hiss from the man above him and the Lan couldn’t help but say “shh..shh…” as a comfort.

Wei Ying just dropped his head to the ground, his whole body seeming to surrender to whatever pain lay ahead. Thankfully they were near enough the edge of the oasis that Lan Wangji could simply cut his hands and slowly trickle water onto the burned thigh, again shushing the man on the ground when he squirmed against the sensation. It felt like an eternity, but Lan Wangji deemed the wound flushed enough that it was safe to clean the rest and wrap it.

At the krrt sound the man on the ground lifted his head. “What are you doing?”

“Tearing off fabric to dress your wound.”

“Hm.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying dropped his head to lie the sand again. “I lied to you, you know.”

Sensing that it would be difficult to reply without saying Wei Ying in a sentence, the Lan simply let him continue. Which was, for once, the right choice.

“I wasn’t born to the Jiangs at all. No, I was born on the streets. I lived off of whatever I could find for a decade. Scraps, leftovers…I stole, a lot, too. I was probably the best at it.” He sniffled.

The other man remained silent.

“One day father found me. Made me a prince of his kingdom…called me his long-lost first born to everyone that would hear it, even though he knew it would risk making his wife angry. All of a sudden this street rat was in line for the throne, given a home and a family. I’m technically second after Jiang Cheng, but Lady Yu has always hated the fact that I was a risk no one wanted to take.”

“…” Was this how Wei Ying had lived when he was taken in by the Jiangs a century ago? Had he felt like an impostor in the new home he was given? Had he been forced to crusade like a warrior in the Jiang name by-

“No, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” Wei Ying propped himself up, letting the vertigo hit his head before he sat up straighter. “I think I can hear your thoughts,” he said like it wasn’t any revelation at all. “I chose to fight in all these battles because I wanted a place, and I thought battle rank would help that. But in the end it only made Lady Yu’s disdain for me grow because I was outmatching Jiang Cheng.”

The surface of the oasis barely rippled with the windless night. It created a perfect reflection of the moon cushioned by the few clouds above them. Lan Wangji watched this mirror until his beloved continued, “I’m afraid, you know. Afraid that I’m destined to turn out just like him. And meet the same end. I can wear ‘Prince Jiang’ for as long as I want but at the end of the day I still feel like I might be this Wei Ying.”

He didn’t know how, but at some point their bodies had shifted closer in the way that their sides were touching. Any slight shift of movement and they would be trapped in a way that they would have no choice but to graze each other. So Lan Wangji turned his head instead, and had to pause himself at the familiar sight. Wei Ying’s…his eyes…they were sparkling. They were sparkling just as they had when they were younger, the way they always did whenever his Prince Wei found himself at a loss for words.

Those sparkling pools widened in realization, but the speech continued albeit with hesitation. “I-I’m scared that if I love you again this time, I’ll meet my end because of you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan.

Lan

Zhan.

Lan Zhan.

When was the last time he heard that name leave anyone’s lips? Only one person in all his years of living had ever called him as such.

But fear was not something that could be afforded right now. Not when he felt this close.

And so, for the third time before this person, he tried. “Wei Ying.”

The injured man nodded.

Careful of his leg, the former Emperor engulfed those pink lips with his own, soon slowing and turning gentle until he waited for the one underneath him to reciprocate. Just as he feared that he made the wrong choice, he felt soft lips finally move against his own with a hum. And the feeling of melting back into this warmth was so good that the both of them inwardly mourned having to break for air.

Wei Ying’s hair was loosened from its ponytail, his top was disheveled, and his arms were resting above his held where he held them there.

Beautiful.

“Lan Zhan,” he panted.

The other was about to respond when he remembered himself, and focused on the pained wince on the injured man’s face.

Oh no. Had he jostled his wound? Was he in pain? Was he-

“No.” Wei Ying’s voice cut again.

Oh.

“I died from a wound to Bichen, Lan Zhan.” The words stung, but it was true. “I remember my loving you but I don’t remember much of that night. Did you…mean to do it? Did you know it was me that was stealing from you?”

Lan Zhan crawled over, almost desperate. “Of course not. Never would I imagine raising any weapon towards you.” He sighed. “I awoke to alarms of guards that there was an intruder in the tower. I went to fight you, your face was concealed under a cloak, and then all of a sudden I find Bichen buried in your abdomen.”

Wei Ying said nothing.

“And for…for some reason,” Wangji’s voice shook. “You refused to let me retract Bichen. In fact you forced Bichen to the hilt through your stomach and did it with a smile.”

Wei Ying scooted himself closer seeing the other man now openly sobbing, and no one could mistake that expression for anything other than regret. Oh, Lan Zhan.

Feeling the comforting hand at his back, Wangji turned to him, pleading once more. “Why, Wei Ying? Why did you want to die so badly that night? Did you want to end your life so that you wouldn’t have to suffer from my mistake any longer? We could have gotten you a healer, maybe-“

The younger silenced this sad tirade kiss a soft kiss. “I don’t know why, Lan Zhan. I wish I knew. I want to tell you all of the answers you have of that day. Why I was stealing the Yin artifact. Why I sped up my death when ever second with you I should have treasured regardless,” he traced the strong Lan jawline, wiping away smudges of dirt and tears he encountered in his path with gentle fingers. “This is going to sound horrible, but it’s very comforting knowing that you didn’t mean to kill me. All those stories spun over the years over that encounter made it seem like you wanted me dead.”

“No. Never.”

Prince Ying chuckled. “I know.”

“Those…stories. Were they told to you by Jiang Wanyin?”

“Yes. Why?”

“He was there that night, of course. Your sister as well. They only arrived to see you already dying. But I do understand why Jiang Wanyin’s hate for me has followed him into his next life. If anyone harmed Xichen I would refuse to forget that as well.”

“Hmm.” Wei Ying absentmindedly used the remnants of the leather pouch to pick up the scimitar, swishing it in the water before testing it quickly with his finger. “Looks like the poison has subsided enough,” he muttered before wrapping it in the leather and his now-dried outer robes. “Who the fuck would frame me and kill the king?”

Jiang Wanyin.

Wei Ying pointed a finger in his face, saying, “Don’t even go there, Lan Zhan. Jiang Cheng already has the first claim to the throne, you know that. Besides, no matter how much we schemed as kids, there is no way Jiang Cheng would go this far to get what he wanted.”

The former Emperor wasn’t so sure about this in the slightest, but he fought this from displaying in his thoughts that Wei Ying would be able to read anyway. He wanted to ask why this was even possible before, but a part of him already knew.

Wei Ying was his soulmate.

He felt a blushing Wei Ying kick his shoe at that, saying, “Enough, you. We…we need to figure this out.”

And he knew, of course he did. But could one not help but be excited? He was reunited with his beloved as adults, they both remembered their lives together, and all they had to do was find and kill this demonic cultivator threatening Wei Ying’s life.

“What demonic cultivator?”

Oops. Not the way he wanted to tell him about that.

Lan Wangji inwardly kicked himself, and urged that they keep moving. He would tell him everything along the way.

This time Wei Ying chose to tie his horse behind the other, joining Lan Zhan on one horse so that the Lan could support him by his chest leaning against the other’s back. It was a great choice, really.

Wei Ying listened patiently as the other recalled all the events he could, up until they found each other again a century later.

This helped the Yiling Prince remember a few things, namely his participation in the Sunshot Campaign, beheading Wen Ruohan (which was a glorious moment, by the way), and his first life with the Jiangs.

“That’s amazing, Lan Zhan. Not the dying and the death and the war and crying stuff, but you really talked to the gods? I remember you saying mortals haven’t contacted them in centuries but you were the first to do it again, just like you said you would.” He pecked his cheek quickly before turning around again. He giggled when he felt the arms wrapped around him tighten and a chin rest on the top of his head.

“And now we’re on the run.”

“Mn.”

Two princes blatantly on the run from an entire kingdom screaming bloody murder.

Right now it wasn’t too bad, really, with the steady pace their horses were trotting at and the sunrise slowly meeting to the sky to greet them, this was kind of quiet moment they haven’t had in literal ages.

Wei Ying leaned back against him again, not exactly hearing his muddled thoughts this time but indeed sensing his worry. “Lan Xichen should be safe for now, too. The Jiangs have never carried out executions like that before. Jiang Cheng also looks at him weird. I know he’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

The Yiling prince hugged his neck in comfort, more than familiar with that tone. Okay just meant…okay.

Their path through the desert was expertly charted out by Wei Ying himself, of whom knew the ins and outs of the art of escape. What they didn’t anticipate, however, was that the entire rest of the desert civilizations had heard of the two escaped princes already, and almost every mercenary under the sun, with the addition of Jiang Cheng himself, were after them.

This became apparent when they found that they could not outrun the group of bandits that surrounded them a few hours later, just when the sun was almost at its highest in the sky.

The duo had done well to avoid the group for the most of an hour, but soon their horses tired. Making a run for it was futile, and both of them considered fighting their way out when they realized Wei Ying had forgotten to unlock Lan Zhan’s immortal binding cables and that the other prince himself was injured.”

Damn.

“And so here we find ourselves, with two princes on a romantic trip through the desert. Unable to fight, and with a large bounty on their heads.” The scarred leader clicked his tongue like he was reprimanding a child. “What to do with them, boys?”

Around them, the men all voiced their assent but none of them were intelligible enough to make out.

“You, dear royal highnesses, are about to have your lives changed forever.”

Their eyes were covered in dusty blindfolds and their arms secured behind their backs, and the entire time Lan Wangji thought variations of ‘I’m here’, ‘It’s okay’, ‘You’re alright,’, ‘I’m fine.’ He knew his Wei Ying’s nerves would be shot if he stopped hearing these sweet reassurances, meaning that something had happened to him along the way.

After what felt like hours baking in the sun, the two were hauled off the horses and shoved into a building. Lan Wangji tried to analyse his surroundings with what he could hear. A band. Laughter, cups clinking, footsteps, fists slamming on tables.

Was this…a tavern?

His prediction was interrupted by the large round of applause around them.

Oh no.

“Ngh, stop! Lan-Lan Zhan!” He was brought to full attention at the sound of Wei Ying’s struggles, which to his horror grew more and more distant. “Wei Ying!”

He turned in his bonds frantically until a few sets of strong hands forced him to sit down in a chair. His blindfold was untied and for the first time a while his eyes blinked open to his surroundings. Indeed his worst fears were confirmed…

They were in a club.

The leader glanced down at his and snickered, “Oh what, did you think we were human traffickers or something? No…no, we just spread those rumors around these parts so the taxpayers could leave us alone!” He and his men chuckled heartily before the leader took a seat next to him. “See, no one appreciates true art these days. But today,” he sighed, “Something tells me I made the right choice. A runaway prince-murderer would really bring in the money, you know.”

The Lan had to admit that this was the most confused he has found himself. “What?” he twisted around in the chair, struggling to follow the leader as the man paced across the floor in anticipation. Then he clapped Lan Wangji’s shoulder with a grin, “Don’t worry. You’ll thank me for this later.”

No, the confusion still remained.

A slow beat of drums were played, along with the sound of bells. It made one think of a snake approaching its victim before it attacked, but more flirtatious than not.

On the stage before them, a line of women dressed in chiffon skirts with matching midriffs filed out, much to the applause to the men in the audience. A line of men with loose-fitting chiffon pants with midriffs followed after, much to the rest of the audience’s delight. Lan Wangji tried to stand as tall as he could to see over the now whistling crowd, until his eyes landed on a pair of familiar grey ones, framed by a veil that covered his nose to his chin.

Lan Wangji shook his head in disbelief that this was happening right now, but as soon as the routine ended Wei Ying took front stage, brandishing a fan from his pocket and flipping it open which followed by a roar form the crowd. His soulmate seemed to dance this next routine just for him while the others seemed to become background dancers, rolling his hips in a way that Lan Wangji had to exhale slowly in an attempt to extinguish the heat that was rushing towards his head.

Wei Ying ran the closed fan down his torso, of which had been made to look shiny with some kind of oil. A few men and women yelled their glee, and Lan Wangji silently prayed for all of the powers above that his soulmate wouldn’t catch wind of the indecent thoughts flooding his mind.

And maybe someone had heard, because then the routine ended, with dozens of coins being tossed on stage as well as bottles of alcohol being passed to the dancers as gifts, and Wei Ying of course took a big swig of each.

He filed off with the other dancers offstage, and Lan Wangji jumped as the leader hit him on the back again, laughing, “I told you you could thank me later! Why the long face?”

“My face is always like this.”

“Huh.”

The leader backed away as Wei Ying came bounding towards them, but winced again as the adrenaline wore off and he remembered his leg. He sat down stiffly seeing the other prince still tied up. “Alright I did that stupid dance for you. What exactly do you want?” he eyed the men that had once again enclosed their space around their table.

“Oh, the usual. Money.”

Leaning forward, Wei Ying took on the perfect stance of negotiator. “And we can do that. Let us go and we’ll pay you double.”

A laugh. “With what money? As far as I’m concerned, you,” he pointed to Wei Ying, “are wanted by your kingdom for the treacherous murder of your father. And you,” he pointed to the other prince, “Are a prisoner of war. Now if you’d like to listen to my plan for you boys...” He folded his hands as if he was very happy at what he was about to say, “I think it is much more sensible and profitable to keep you two as performers here. It’s a steady flow of income for us both, not to mention a secure job considering this economy,” he sniffed.

Really?

“Fine.”

His head hurt as he did a double-take. Did Wei Ying just agree? The leader did the same.

“You heard me! Fine. If it keeps us from getting captured and gives us a place to stay, I’m all for it. Lan Zhan?” he winked.

There was a plan here, but if his thoughts conveyed anything it was that he had no idea what was going on.

He nodded slowly.

Upon hearing the decision, this group of bandits actually gathered together for a group hug, with the couple stuck in the middle. Lan Wangji bristled. He had never been used to touch by this many people, and he was not starting today. “Wei Ying,” he pleaded.

“Okay, alright everyone, we’re going to turn in for now but we’ll see you soon!” His soulmate blessedly pulled him away from the group and were led to the troupe’s living quarters under the watchful eye of a few guards.

 It was only half a lie-Wei Ying really did want to turn in for the day. The duo hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in almost two days, after all. They both took a quick bath and redressed Wei Wuxian’s leg. A dreamless nap encased them for the rest of the afternoon, with the Yiling Prince carefully situated to sleep on top of Lan Zhan’s chest. After a few more hours of dozing and recharging, the two lie awake once the early night hit, their sleep schedules officially off and Wei Ying whispering while tracing patterns on Lan Zhan’s chest. “Was I cool earlier, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn. Wei Ying was very cool. I just wished you didn’t dance like that with your leg…”

The younger scoffed. “My leg is fine. It’s easy to ignore once I get distracted, and honestly I think we could’ve taken on the bandits in a fight earlier if we tried.”

Lan Wangji hummed but noted, “We would still have been exhausted, and would have had to venture for a place to stay…one that we could sleep in safely and wouldn’t turn us in. And by the time we did that, Jiang Wanyin might have already found us.”

Hm, true. They had food, water, a place to stay and bathe…all things considered this would’ve been a great place to be with Lan Zhan had the circumstances been different.

It was an unexpectedly nice detour, though they both knew they couldn’t stay here forever.

The man on his chest closed his pretty eyes, took a deep inhale of Lan Zhan’s shirt and exhaled the warm air out of his nose into his neck. “My life is still threatened here though, yeah? So long as that demonic cultivator still lives I’m tethered to him.”

“Correct.”

Another exhale. “We need to retrieve that artifact and get these,” he tugged on the immortal binding cables, “off that lovely torso of yours.”

It had been more than awkward tugging the robes out from underneath the cables to bathe, but they made it work. But now they needed them off. If they had any chance of getting out of this place.

“I knew they would keep the sword, but I was scared they would toss the key. So I hid the key inside the scimitar.”

Two things in one place made them easier to retrieve…but what?

“What, you didn’t know the scimitar opened, Lan Zhan?”

An uncertain headshake.

“Well good, because I didn’t either. I accidentally flipped it open as we were being captured but I managed to slip the key from my neck into it. It seems like a bitch to open purposefully, so I wouldn’t worry about them finding out.”

Lan Wangji frowned. Bitch and holy artifact should not be associated with each other in the same sentence. His love laughed that sing-song laugh at hearing this, patting his chest in apology before he explained their next move.

Tip-toeing across the threshold of the now-quiet club and wincing at every creak, Wei Wuxian would admit it wasn’t the greatest idea getting everyone drunk. It was his companion who voiced this concern, not knowing much about alcohol himself for obvious reasons, but Wei Ying just winked and said, “I know my liquor, Lan Zhan.” Before he continued in the kitchen to create every concoction under the sun. It turns out that it wouldn’t be hard convincing a bunch of club-goers to test his drinks, going down the line of sweet-smelling cups until their faces flushed and their steps became clumsy.

This is where the couple found themselves currently in their slow advancement towards the office. It was mildly-frustrating, with Wei Ying using a multitude of military signals to indicate where they should move when it was obvious all they needed to do was avoid the squeaky floorboards. Rounding into the office they carefully shut and locked the door behind them, quickly filing through every possible storage unit in the room. They caught literal wind of an ajar window that would make a good escape route so that they didn’t have to backtrack through the building to the front, and they nodded as they continued their search.

All of a sudden Wei Ying paused, cursing under his breath.

The leader.

Both of them noticed the glint coming from the leader’s belt as they made past his passed-out body on the floor, but they were too focused on getting to the office that they didn’t realize what they came to the office for was right under their noses.

Sticking both their heads out the doorway, the couple painstakingly backtracked towards where the bandit leader lie, which was of course in the middle of a three-way bear hug.

Wei Ying, who had the brilliant idea to just go in, gave Lan Zhan a salute before he slowly crept towards the group of three men snuggling in a drunken stupor on the floor.

Wei Ying! His brain hissed.

I got this, came the response. Just secure our exit.

And so Lan Wangji helplessly did, turning his back to guard the side doorway. He turned back just in time to see Wei Ying stumble and fall into the leader’s embrace.

What…!

Don’t worry! Chirped Wei Ying’s assurance in his head, although he wasn’t sure how much of it was directed towards his fiancé as much as it was towards himself.

He knew it would have done no good for him to have watched as Wei Ying secured the scimitar to his belt and before he could blink, expertly untangled himself from the leader’s embrace.

Huh. He did say he was a great pickpocket after all.

Wei Ying bounded next to him as quietly as he could, pecking his cheek. “And I still am,” he smiled. He took one last swig of the jar he was holding and gently placed it on the floor before they made their way back out into the night.

“A-Xian,” called out a familiar male voice. They froze in unison. Shit. They looked around, but the direction was undiscernible. They would have to walk out to see what it was.

“Ah, Jiang Cheng…” Unexpectedly Wei Ying stood behind Lan Wangji and hugged him tightly.

A growl, “You, Wei Wuxian, get the fuck over here!”

“Stay here,” whispered Wei Ying, and he walked out of the balcony to expose himself.

Lan Wangji shifted, and then he understood the strange gesture. Not only was the Holy Artifact secured at his waist, but the key to unlocking his immortal binding cables inside it, and so he went to work.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying started, but he glanced about his former allies surrounding him with his brother at the forefront. “A-Cheng,” he tried again, “You need to listen to me. Put down your weapons, please.”

That didn’t happen with any of them, though Jiang Wanyin did jump off his horse to square him up at eye level. “You answered to Wei Wuxian. You’re him, the original. And you remember,” was all he said, though Wei Ying couldn’t say much in reply as his brother was physically backing him into the proverbial corner; or in this instance, almost into a warrior’s spear pointed at him. He glanced down nervously as the familiar thrum of Zidian sparked to life, “That means that the Lan Wangji you escaped with…you knowingly escaped with your murderer, Wei Wuxian. I’ve been trying for almost two lifetimes to protect you from him and this is what I get? A dead father and missing brother? How cold, A-Xian.” He stalked nearer but Wei Wuxian couldn’t back up anymore unless he wanted to get impaled.

He knew the sting of Zidian and he would willingly take it again if it meant that he could get even a few minutes of Jiang Cheng’s time to listen, but he wasn’t sure how long he would hold out this time. Jiang Cheng looked like he intended to kill this time, and Wei Ying couldn’t fault him for that, either.

Lan Zhan needed time, so he could give it to him.

“I know this is hard to believe A-Cheng, but I really didn’t do it. Why would I kill the man who took me in? Gave me a home and a family? A purpose? I didn’t do it, A-Cheng you know this.”

Doubt did cloud Jiang Cheng’s once fierce gaze, if only for a second. “Then tell me who did it. Tell me who did it and I’ll call the whole thing off.” It didn’t show on his face, but he really wanted to believe his brother. But what other leads did he have?

“Okay so here’s the thing,” Wei Ying chuckled, “We don’t know who did it...yet.”

Hidden behind a rock, Lan Wangji just barely managed to finally shake off the immortal binding cables before he saw a blur of Wei Ying flip past him. “HiLanZhanByeLanZhanSorry!” he called while doing a backflip to dodge a hit from Zidian.

His spiritual power wasn’t at its fullest just yet, but the Jade was able to fend off the other soldiers with evasion and engagement when necessary. He feinted under the spear of one guard, and twirled to snatch him sword off his belt. When the guard turned around in confusion, Lan Wangji jumped and launched himself into the air by using the man’s back at leverage. The guard fell to the ground with a large “oof!” and in the air Lan Wangji landed at his favorite vantage spot, the roof.

Down below, he heard the commotion Wei Ying was causing, with the drunken bandits waking up in a confused stupor, further enhancing his escape with his brother. The Lan stood at the edge to wait for his moment. “Wei Wuxian!” screamed Jiang Wanyin, and he caught sight of a familiar head with a cowlick run out of the club through the front entrance, followed by an angry and glowing purple. Lan Wangji jumped and landed on it.

He winced at the sound Jiang Wanyin made when he landed on him, a dust cloud surrounding them as the angered Prince tried to get up to no avail. “Damn you, Lans…” he muttered before he sank back to the ground defeated. For now.

A hand grabbed his, and they were off running again into the night. The scene they left behind were full of bandits mistaking the royal guards for the commotion, and a fight ensued behind them. It was perfect.

“Feel familiar, Lan Zhan?” called Wei Ying in front of him.

For the first time in a long time, he smiled a genuine one, and followed after his love just like they had when they were children.

It was a good few minutes before they deemed themselves safe enough to break, and Lan Wangji mourned the fact that he didn’t have a spiritual sword to fly them on. The stolen wouldn’t suffice, not that he wanted Bichen anywhere near Wei Ying at the moment, either.

The duo came to a halt, panting and gasping for breath at the excitement. “Just like old times,” coughed Wei Ying.

“How is your leg?” he inquired.

Wei Wuxian glanced down. “Eh. It’s not bleeding, so that’s a plus. I’ve been running pretty well on it too, so I don’t think there’s any chafing doing on either.”

“Let me check.”

“I’m fine, Lan Zhan.”

“Just to be sure.”

“No, Lan Zhan we have to-wah!”

They were both equally stubborn, but as Wei Ying backed up trying to evade the prying Lan Wangji he tripped over something and disappeared out of view.

“Wei Ying!” the Lan exclaimed.

I’m here Lan Zhan!

Where?

Take a few steps forward.

The commotion they previously left behind them steadily came closer.

Hurry!

Walking into a solid wall of rock wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but he had no choice but to throw all caution to the wind as Jiang Wanyin's hollering became too close for comfort.

Letting his feet take the lead, Lan Wangji blinked to find himself into an open space, a cave of some sort.

The air instantly became cooler and more humid. But it was an entirely different environment than was outside; for one, it was daytime here, and when he and Wei Ying made their escape just minutes ago it was definitely under moonlight. Beautiful plants grew at the center of it, though the species here looked like none he has ever seen in this part of the world.