Archive of Our Own

"What happened?"

"No one knows."

"Did it just appear?"

"Some people are saying it's always been there."

"It hasn't always been there! I live here! I've lived here my whole life. I'd know if there was a—a—if that had been there all along."

Wei Wuxian lingers in front of the teahouse, his bottle of liquor dangling from his fingers. He props himself up against the bannister out front, lifting the bottle to take another sip as he gazes at the townsfolk gathered around the town center where, just off-center from the middle of the main strip, there is a roiling, seething, jagged circle of such pure blackness that your eyes don't want to look directly at it. Even Wei Wuxian, who prides himself on comfortably communing with all manner of things that make the common man flinch, can't bring his eyes to rest directly on the pulsing darkness hovering just over the road, like something has ripped the fabric of the universe open, like a loose thread, something coming undone.

A crowd of onlookers are gathered a judicious distance away from it, staring and gesturing, looking uneasy. Other townsfolk are just going about their normal routine, skirting around the gaping hole without looking directly at it. They are seemingly not at all alarmed by it. He watches as a hawthorne dealer, the sticks of it poking out from all sides of the backpack carrier, hawking his wares, strides down the middle of the street then skirts to one side as he gets near the pulsing darkness, not losing the rhythm of either his stride or his cries of "Candied hawthorne here!"

"Interesting," Wei Wuxian murmurs to himself, holding the bottle near his mouth, distractedly trying to get his eyes to rest directly on the phenomenon. It doesn't work—he can't help but let his gaze skitter to the side, not quite understanding exactly what's there, only that it's a flat darkness, blacker than any black he's ever seen, and that there's a pulsing to it that's both rhythmic and uncertain, unsettling in a way he feels in the pit of his stomach.

He drinks more liquor. That will settle it down.

"Did they call anyone?" This from an older man, who has pulled his hat from his head, clutching it in his hands as he stares uneasily at a point near the pulsing nothingness.

"Did who call anyone?" someone else scoffs. "You expect them to call someone? I don't think they all even believe it's a problem. They won't want to spend money on help for something they think we're all making up."

"But it's right there." The older man points towards where the...nothingness is. "How can they say it's not?"

"Why do they say anything?" This from a woman passing by, turning her head as far away from the hole as possible. "They're politicians. They don't need reasons for what they do."

"A cultivator, though," someone else calls out. "That's what we need."

Wei Wuxian lets one eyebrow go up as he takes a long sip of his liquor. He's on vacation. He's taking a break. He's not even a rogue cultivator right now. He's just himself. On a break. He's curious about the phenomenon, but he's been curious about a lot of things. Curious doesn't mean you have to get involved. He turns away, considers going back inside for another bottle, but decides to make his way back to the inn instead. Vacations call for mid-afternoon naps, he's pretty sure.

And if the route to the inn takes him by the pulsating nothingness, that's not something he can avoid. He pauses as he draws closer, trying to make his eyes focus on the matte blackness but he can't do it. "It's like it doesn't want to be perceived," he mutters to himself thoughtfully. Hmm. If he had some talisman paper, he wonders if he'd be able to—

Vacation. He's on vacation. He's taking a break. A well-earned break. He's been wandering and helping people and making some money here and there, making friends as he goes, but it's hard work. Lonely work, as he leaves the friends he makes behind, each time. He thinks about when he was young, about how the mere idea of a "rogue cultivator" sounded exciting, freeing. The idea that you could just roam the countryside, working on the things that sounded interesting to you, honing your talent in the rough, no real responsibilities, nothing to tie you down—it had been intriguing.

The reality of it is somewhat less so. Thus the break. He's got enough stashed away for a couple of nights in the inn, for a bath to be brought up, and for as much liquor as he desires. He's determined to take advantage of it, and not think about what's next. Certainly not thinking about borrowing trouble in the form of an inexplicable looming darkness that seems to possibly be controlling the minds of at least some of the townsfolk.

Not his problem.

Wei Wuxian does take a nap, the rich afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, feeling lazy and reveling in it. He has strange, chaotic dreams: running away from something he can't see; climbing a tower even as it crumbles to pieces beneath him. When he wakes up, the sunlight has shifted, but not too much—he hasn't slept long, even though he'd dreamt so deeply it feels like it should be morning.

He rolls onto his side, looking out the window without really seeing anything. There's a soft breeze coming through, and it smells sweetly of late-season flowers. His inn is not that far from the center of town, but his room is set back and the bustle of the town is muted, seeming very far away.

It's not his job to fix everything. It never was.

Besides, he doesn't even know where to begin with a sickening, fluctuating negative blackness like a tear in the world.

He doesn't even know where to even start looking for a solution. If it was a problem he was going to try to solve. Which it definitely is not.

He gets up, straightens his robes. Thinks about ordering another bath, luxuriating in it while he can, but he really can only afford two, and he thinks he'll wait until the night before he leaves, so at least he'll be clean before he heads out on his next adventure.

Maybe he'll go for a walk instead.

He resolutely heads in the opposite direction of town center. He'll explore the surrounding area. Tromp around the woods a bit. Clear his head. Tire himself out, get to the point where another nap will be called for. It's a good plan. A solid plan.

It turns out a walk in the woods is incredibly boring. There's nothing to see here. Rustling leaves as he roams among the trees, the skitter of the occasional woodland creature, and nothing else to distract him from the cacophony of his own thoughts. At least when he was—roguely—cultivating, he'd had Little Apple to talk to. He's stabled her with a farmer a little ways from town—giving them both a little vacation, he'd figured.

Now, pacing among the trees and swatting at the occasional branch that got in his way, he finds he misses even that stubborn animal. She'd been distracting, at least.

"This is stupid," he mutters to himself. "Just go take another look at the thing."

That's it. Just a look. He finds himself trying to remember what, exactly, it looked like—that would be step one in figuring it out, if he was going to try to figure it out, which he isn't, but he is curious as to what it looks like. He knows, whatever it is, that it uses its energy to turn eyes away from it, but if he could get a glimpse, he'd be able to at least have an idea of what they're dealing with.

Just a look. Easy enough. "And a good reason to get away from these trees."

The main street of the town is even busier than before. There's more talk, the rumble of the crowd getting louder the closer he draws to the phenomenon. It's an uneasy, unsettled sound of a crowd getting agitated, riling themselves up. There's a big cluster of townspeople, all talking over each other, as he gets nearer. They're gathered around, pointing and arguing and—

Oh. Well. It looks like the town did, in fact, call in some help. Well, that's good, since Wei Wuxian is, as he'd previously told himself, resolutely, on vacation. Not in this line of work, not right now. So it's a good thing that—

"Hanguang-jun," an older woman to his right breathes out, gazing over at where the cluster of cultivators in familiar white robes are standing. They are intimidating, if you didn't know any better, straight-backed and very close to the pulsing slash of blackness that Wei Wuxian had been planning to just...peruse. Glance at.

He's looking now. The pulsing darkness still pushes his eyes away, but to be fair, that's not what he's looking at anyway.

Lan Zhan, standing tall, his hand gripping his sword. Has his hairpiece gotten even more elaborate? Or has Wei Wuxian just forgotten how stately it is? He's at the forefront of the group of Lan cultivators and if the pulsing darkness pushes Wei Wuxian's eyes away, then Lan Zhan draws them like there's nothing else worthy of looking at.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head at himself. He's been on the road too long. He's thinking in lines of poetry.

"Hanguang-jun," someone else murmurs from his other side and then, further back in the crowd, "Hanguang-jun."

They really do say his name with reverence. Wei Wuxian hears it all the time, during his travels. Even this long after, they still remember Lan Zhan as a war hero, as a savior of the people. Wei Wuxian feels his mouth crook into a smile, listening to the crowd murmur. He crosses his arms, rocking back on his heels. "Do you really think he can help?" he says in a dubious tone, just to see what sort of trouble he can make.

The man next to him draws back and stares at him. "Of course he can help!" he exclaims, his eyes narrowing like Wei Wuxian is the stupidest person he's ever had the bad luck to encounter. "He's Hanguang-jun. He's Chief Cultivator. You've never seen anything like him, in your lifetime or before!"

Wei Wuxian cocks his head to the side, murmuring, "That's not entirely true."

The man makes a huffing noise, turning bodily away from Wei Wuxian, who can't stop the grin from tugging across his face. People get upset so easily. He moves forward a little bit in the crowd, easing his way in between people, his hands itching to reach for his flute, but he leaves it tucked in his belt. He's not working right now. He's just watching, like everyone else.

Lan Zhan, of course, is paying no attention to the crowd. He stands straight and tall, his pristine white robes the antithesis of the overwhelming blackness of the pulsing strip of darkness. Wei Wuxian watches him closely, thinking that, if anyone can, Lan Zhan will be the one to observe this phenomenon that seems to want no eyes on it.

But Lan Zhan isn't looking at the jagged circle of uneasy matte blackness. His gaze is skipping over the crowd, even as his expression remains steady, stolid. It's moments only before it lands on Wei Wuxian. Unerringly. Like he's the one Lan Zhan has been looking for. Like somehow, in all of the small towns in all of the world, Lan Zhan had somehow known this was the one that Wei Wuxian was taking his—well-deserved—vacation in.

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms again, shaking his head as he lets his smile widen, meeting Lan Zhan's direct gaze across the milling crowd of anxious townsfolk.

Lan Zhan's expression doesn't exactly change. He's still Chief Cultivator, through and through, his face serious and his mouth drawn into a concerned line, and his eyes...well, okay, his eyes go the tiniest bit soft. There is, perhaps, the smallest crinkle at the corners as he looks at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian gives a shrug of his shoulders, grinning wider. He looks off to the side for a moment, shaking his head again, then looks back. Lan Zhan's still watching him. Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side, lets his eyes trace over to the teahouse across the way, then back to Lan Zhan. He makes a face—no way am I making my way to the front of this crowd. I'm not in charge here.—and Lan Zhan's gaze flickers minutely. Wei Wuxian raises his chin in quiet salute and pivots on his heel, easing back through the crowd. He gives in to the temptation to glance back over his shoulder after a moment. Lan Zhan, a stately figure in white, nearly glowing against the rough and tumble crowd, is watching him still.

"I didn't know the Chief Cultivator got sent out on such basic missions as this." Wei Wuxian says it without turning around, sitting sprawled at the low table in the back of the teahouse. He'd charmed his way into this spot, which is not quite a private room, but is set back away from the rest of the tables, the area raised up a bit and surrounded by an intricate low railing. It makes it feel secluded.

"It is not basic." Lan Zhan's voice is calm, his voice deep, and it's been so long, too long.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head back, grins up at Lan Zhan, who is looming over him. "Long time, no see," he says.

"Mn." Lan Zhan sits down neatly at the table, resting his sword beside him.

"You're on your own?" Wei Wuxian pushes himself to sitting so he can get a better look at Lan Zhan. "You had a whole set of disciples with you, where'd they all go?"

"They're investigating." Lan Zhan looks at the table, where the tea pot Wei Wuxian had ordered rests neatly.

"Ah." Wei Wuxian reaches forward, grabbing it and a cup, pouring it for Lan Zhan. "I took the liberty of ordering for you. I think I remember what you like."

Lan Zhan watches as Wei Wuxian slides the teacup over to him. He nods, lifting the cup, looking at Wei Wuxian through the steam that rises from it. "And you?" he asks, nodding down at the cup in front of Wei Wuxian.

"Well." Wei Wuxian picks up the bottle of liquor resting on the table, pouring it into the cup he's using in lieu of drinking directly from the bottle, in deference to Lan Zhan's delicate sensibilities. "You and I have always had slightly different tastes in this matter."

Lan Zhan doesn't grin—Wei Wuxian isn't sure Lan Zhan has ever grinned—but his gaze over the teacup as he takes a sip makes it look like he wants to.

"You got called in on this thing?" Wei Wuxian continues and takes a sip of his liquor. Lan Zhan is making steady eye contact with him. He hasn't seen Lan Zhan in...a long, long time. He keeps meaning to circle back to Cloud Recesses, but his wanderings keep drawing him further away. He looks good. Same straight-backed posture, same quiet, thoughtful gaze, same devastating beauty that Wei Wuxian can't get over. How does anyone ever go up against Lan Zhan? How is everyone not completely undone just by looking at him?

Lan Zhan lowers his head in a nod.

"You're a long way from Gusu." Wei Wuxian says it lightly. He's curious. He's so curious.

"My uncle knows the head of the town council," Lan Zhan says.

"Ah, a personal favor," Wei Wuxian says. "From the Chief Cultivator himself. Impressive."

Lan Zhan looks at him and takes another sip of tea. "You, too, are a long way from Gusu," he says. He doesn't land the light tone. Wei Wuxian thinks that perhaps he's not even trying.

"Yes, well." Wei Wuxian shrugs. "The life of a rogue cultivator. It takes me a little bit of everywhere."

Lan Zhan gives a slow nod. He's still watching Wei Wuxian.

"Although, I'm on vacation right now." Wei Wuxian gulps down some more wine. "Definitely on vacation."

"Vacation." Lan Zhan is just watching him. He has the tiniest furrow between his brows. "You're taking a vacation...here."

Does he sound...hurt? No way he sounds hurt. He's a busy person. He has a lot going on, all the time. Chief Cultivator is a fuller-than-full-time job. He's probably just jealous. Wishing he got vacation time, too.

"Oh, yes." Wei Wuxian nods several times. "Only the best cursed towns for my personal break times." He grins at Lan Zhan and sets his cup down, leaning forward over the table, his hands clasped together. "Tell me what your plan is." Not that he's getting involved in this. "Out of sheer curiosity's sake, that is."

Lan Zhan looks at him, and yeah, it's the same gaze Wei Wuxian remembers: steady, slightly exasperated. But also...tired. He looks tired. Weary. Not with, like, bags under his eyes, or anything overt, but just an overall aura of a deep-seated exhaustion. He needs a nap. He needs a lot of naps. He definitely needs his own vacation.

"It's not a curse," Lan Zhan says finally. "I'm not sure why I'm here."

"A favor," Wei Wuxian reminds him, even more curious now.

Lan Zhan nods. "Yes, but why call in a favor, when nothing is happening?"

Lan Zhan's brow does that almost-crinkle thing again. It makes Wei Wuxian want to smooth it out with his thumb.

"I mean, listen," Wei Wuxian says. "I hear you, I've seen a lot worse than this too, but a rip in the fabric of...the world, I guess? It's pretty disconcerting. Even for someone as well-traveled as me." He pours himself another drink. "Even I can't look directly at it and, as you know, I am well-versed with all manner of dark things." He tries an eyebrow waggle, maybe hoping to get a little smile out of Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan just looks bewildered. In that Lan Zhan way, where nothing actually changes about his face, but Wei Wuxian can see it, in the set of his mouth, in how he looks at Wei Wuxian. "I don't understand," he says.

Wei Wuxian shrugs. "Yeah, me neither." There's a bowl of nuts on the table and he reaches forward, grabs a few and pops one in his mouth. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Lan Zhan's brow definitely crinkles at that, and oh, isn't that an interesting sight? "Like what?"

Wei Wuxian laughs.

Lan Zhan's brow crinkles more.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says. "Stop joking."

Lan Zhan shakes his head at him slowly. His face is very serious. "Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian stops laughing. "Lan Zhan," he says slowly. "You saw it. I know you saw it. I watched you standing near it. It's why you're here."

Lan Zhan just looks at him.

"The...thing!" Wei Wuxian says, waving one arm at the door to the teahouse. "The big rip in reality! Pulsing! Blackness like you've never seen before! Unnerving! Even for me!"

"But," Lan Zhan says slowly, "it's always been here. It's nothing to take note of."

Wei Wuxian stares at him. Is Lan Zhan fooling around? In the too many months that Wei Wuxian has been roaming the countryside, has Lan Zhan's sense of humor turned really fucking weird? He's the one who's bewildered now, and he's pretty sure it shows very clearly on his face, unlike Lan Zhan's. "Lan Zhan," he says. Facts. Facts first. Facts are always a good way to start out. "Have you ever been to this town before?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head. He's still got that puzzled look on his face.

"Okay. So how would you know it's always been here?"

"I just do." He says it quietly, but with clear certainty in his voice. "It has."

"But you can't actually know that, right?" Wei Wuxian persists. He's good at persisting. He excels in it.

"No." Lan Zhan says it with the same note of certainty in his voice. "I can't. But I do." He tilts his head at Wei Wuxian. "What do you know?"

"Listen, I know a boatload of things," Wei Wuxian says, shrugging his shoulders. "But I know fuck-all about this particular thing. Other than the fact that it does exist, it's not always been there, and it's freaking me out that whatever power it has over some people is affecting you."

Lan Zhan sits silently for a moment. "Then we must investigate." His back gets, somehow, even more straight and he settles his hands on his knees, looking at Wei Wuxian with an air of expectation. Like they're going to start right now.

"Oh," Wei Wuxian says hastily. "Oh, Lan Zhan, you don't have to do that. I mean, I know you're here already with your, uh, team and all, but listen, I can take care of this." He shrugs his shoulders, and takes another gulp of wine. "What else do I have going on?"

"Your vacation, for one." Lan Zhan says it with flat affectation and wow, he can still take Wei Wuxian's breath away with how scathing he can be in just a handful of words.

Wei Wuxian laughs, because why not. "Ah," he says, waving Lan Zhan away. "Who needs it, when a town full of innocents is under some kind of strange curse?" He frowns, thinking about it again. "Why would it have different effects on different people?" he murmurs to himself. "What's the point of that? I can see if it was to be something people didn't see, or something people took for granted as always having been there, but a whole bunch of townsfolk can see it, too. What is the point?"

Lan Zhan's ignoring his curious mumblings. Wei Wuxian can tell. HIs mouth has flattened into a line. He waits until Wei Wuxian peters out before he says, "It's our responsibility to do it." He takes a bitchy sip of tea. "My disciples and I," he clarifies. "I wouldn't want to keep you here. Perhaps you would like to move on with your wandering."

There is the slightest pause before wandering and, oh, Lan Zhan is pissed off, wow, wow. It's been a minute since Lan Zhan has focused this sort of petty rage at Wei Wuxian. He's not inured to it the way he had been in his last life.

"Wait, wait," Wei Wuxian says hastily, reaching over to rest one hand on Lan Zhan's beseechingly. "That's not what I meant at all. I just didn't want you to have to linger in this place. I just—"

Lan Zhan is staring down at their hands on the table, Wei Wuxian's clasping Lan Zhan's. Lan Zhan's, which is resting on the table, as limp and cool as a dead fish. "Oh." Wei Wuxian pats his hand a little gingerly before pulling his own away. "I just meant," he says, taking a deep breath, "that I'm happy to investigate this. With you," he adds, going for firm and largely dodging terrified. "You and me. And the disciples."

Lan Zhan's still looking down at the table. "Fine," he says. He takes another sip of tea before his gaze flickers up to Wei Wuxian's. "Then we'll investigate."

"Beautiful," Wei Wuxian says. He feels a grin sliding across his face, even though Lan Zhan still doesn't look particularly enthused about the plan. "Glorious. I love it." He downs another shot, wiping his sleeve across his mouth when he's done. "You didn't think I was going to let the chance to work with you again slip away, did you? This was going to bug the shit out of me until I figured it out, anyway. Let's get to the bottom of it."

Lan Zhan rises smoothly, Bichen in hand. Wei Wuxian scoops up the pot of wine—there's half of it left, surely the Lan sect rule of do not tolerate waste applies here—and follows him out, after Lan Zhan has, of course, tossed down some money on the table.

Wei Wuxian can't stop grinning as he trails Lan Zhan out. He's missed this.

They're heading back towards the phenomenon, of course. He supposes he should be glad that Lan Zhan is at least one of those who is aware that it exists, and not one of the few who dodge it unthinkingly without ever once seeming to be able to discern it. "Some people can see it, but think it's always been there," he calls out, jogging to catch up to Lan Zhan as he strides down the street. "That's you." He pokes Lan Zhan's shoulder with his flute.

Lan Zhan does not deign to even glance in his direction.

Wei Ying just likes him so much.

"And some people—ooh, hey, watch, this is better, it'll explain it more than I ever could." They've drawn close to the tear of blackness—again, Wei Wuxian feels slightly drawn towards it, a sort of aching dizziness making him feel like he could stumble closer. He clutches Chenqing tightly, ready to play at a moment's notice. Both he and Lan Zhan pause. Lan Zhan's brow is oh so slightly wrinkled in that what the fuck are we doing here sort of way. "Listen, just look—watch the flow of traffic."

There are still clusters of nervous-looking townspeople here and there, but the larger crowds have dispersed—Wei Wuxian has heard murmurs of talk that now that Hanguang-jun is here to take care of things, there's not as much to be nervous about. Some passers-by have puzzled looks on their faces, looking first at the nervous clusters and then at the hole, shaking their heads. "Some people," Wei Wuxian hears an irascible looking older man huff, "will do anything to avoid a good day's work."

And then— "There, look." Wei Wuxian puts his hand on Lan Zhan's shoulder to get his attention. He really does expect Lan Zhan to shake him off, but instead Lan Zhan just freezes minutely under the touch, and then obediently watches.

A woman with the day's groceries on her hip, holding the hand of a small child, is approaching the pulsing rip in space, keeping a very sedate, steady pace down the public thoroughfare. She looks a little tired, a little frazzled; her kid is skipping beside her and seems to be keeping up a steady chatter. When they get close, Wei Wuxian watches as the kid's eyes widen and he falters, tugging at his mom's hand.

"We're late," the mom says tiredly, firmly pulling the kid along with her. "Dad will be waiting." Wei Wuxian holds his breath as she sidesteps the hole, nearly brushing along the edge of it. She doesn't notice as an apple tumbles out of the top of the bag she's carrying as she hurries along and both Wei Wuxian and the kid watch as it rolls to the hole and...disappears.

Wei Wuxian makes eye contact with the kid as his mom tugs him past, and he's wide-eyed and stumbling a little as he goes by.

"You see?" Wei Wuxian whirls around to look at Lan Zhan. "You saw that, right?"

Lan Zhan's brow is well and truly drawn now and oh, Wei Wuxian loves that thinking look Lan Zhan gets. He thinks if Lan Zhan were a regular person, he'd be pacing, muttering to himself, running one hand over his forehead, maybe.

"I did," he says slowly.

"Different people have different reactions to it, right?" Wei Wuxian bounces a little on his toes. "You saw it! That mom didn't even notice it was there! But you saw that kid! That kid saw it! And was freaked out by it, just like me."

"Maybe." Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I believe something strange is happening. I don't understand what." He looks at the sky, then back at Wei Wuxian. "The disciples will meet us at the inn," he says. "It's getting dark." He turns on one heel and heads down the street.

Wei Wuxian grins and trots after him.

The inn is bustling when he gets there. Something about the cluster of straight-backed, solemn-faced Lan disciples in white standing in the homey, busy atmosphere of the inn brings a warm feeling to Wei Wuxian's heart. He's missed these kids.

The whole room full of people turn to look as Lan Zhan strides in. Wei Wuxian, trailing behind him, can't exactly blame them. He nearly glows, his white robes seeming brighter, even, than those of the disciples.

"Hanguang-jun." They're all murmuring it, and dropping their heads in reverence. Then amidst it Wei Wuxian hears a mutter of, "Holy crap, it's Wei Wuxian!" and then the row of baby cultivators flutters and one of them stumbles to the side, clearly having been elbowed by—

"Jingyi." Lan Zhan's voice is stern, and Jingyi straightens up, but his eyes are still darting to the side, where Sizhui is standing next to him, somehow projecting the feel of a smile behind the appropriate and stoic look on his face.

Wei Wuxian grins at them and when Lan Zhan turns towards the proprietor of the inn, Sizhui lifts his hand and gives him a wave.

Wei Wuxian waves back—this is so good. What a team—and goes to stick his nose in the conversation Lan Zhan is having with the innkeeper.

"Yes, of course," the innkeeper is saying, only somewhat obsequiously. "We have many travelers staying with us and limited rooms, but we definitely have the best and most spacious room left, which I will be very honored to provide to you and your people."

Wei Wuxian leans his hip against the counter. The innkeeper is one of the people who thinks the jagged tear in the world has always been there and is neither interesting nor problematic, but he has no trouble increasing his rates for those folks who are aware that the tear is, at best, weird, and have been traveling in to see it.

"One room?" Wei Wuxian says. "For all those kids?" He gestures over at the group of Lans, counting out loud. "Six, seven, eight." He crosses his arms, looking up at Lan Zhan. "What are you going to do, stack them?"

The proprietor doesn't spare Wei Wuxian a glance, knowing from a single look at Lan Zhan that it's Lan Zhan's money that's doing the talking here. "There are three beds in the room. And I can bring in an additional pallet. We have one left that is not being used."

Lan Zhan nods and opens his purse. Wei Wuxian knows him well enough that, even though his expression doesn't change, his look says he is somewhat pained.

"You're going to make him sack down with eight teenage boys?" Wei Wuxian arches an eyebrow at the innkeeper. "Don't get me wrong, I love the kids, but that's an unfair fate for pretty much anybody, let alone the venerable Hanguang-jun."

"Perhaps, then, sir," the innkeeper says smoothly, "you'd be willing to give up your room for the comfort of the Chief Cultivator?"

"Oh, sure," Wei Wuxian says cheerfully. "You can have my room, Lan Zhan." He pokes Lan Zhan's shoulder and oh, the look he gets. Lan Zhan must be tired, to break form like that from one simple poke. "I can sleep rough, there's a nice woods not too far from here. I'll be all set."

Lan Zhan is ignoring him. "I will not put out one of your patrons," he says shortly to the innkeeper. "The one room will suffice."

"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian hops up on the counter next to the innkeeper, swinging his legs. This is fun. He's forgotten how much fun this sort of Lan Zhan negotiation is. "You can't sleep in a room with eight boys. That's a human nightmare. I can't believe this fellow even suggested it."

The look the innkeeper is giving him now makes it clear that he thinks Wei Wuxian is, himself, a human nightmare. Wei Wuxian grins. He's used to that look.

"You can take my room," Wei Wuxian says, insistently.

Lan Zhan closes his eyes for somewhat longer than a blink. "I will not put out one of your patrons," he says again, stiffly, to the innkeeper. "But perhaps, for an extra fee, you'd allow us to share the room."

Oh, Lan Zhan is a problem solver. Wei Wuxian kicks his legs against the counter. "That's smart," he declares. "That's so smart." He hops down, patting the innkeeper's shoulder. "You won't charge us extra, right?" he says. "Of course you won't, it makes no difference to the room if there's one person in there or two."

The innkeeper frowns slightly but Wei Wuxian has seen the money that Lan Zhan has passed off to him for the room the kids will be sharing. He's making plenty of money off of cramming all of them into his biggest—and most expensive—room.

"See?" he says cheerfully to Lan Zhan. "He's fine with it. Oh," he adds, in a hasty aside to the innkeeper, "it might need some cleaning. Before Hanguang-jun here sees it." He grins at the innkeeper, whispering loudly, "He's a bit of a neat freak."

He hears the smallest snicker coming from the group of boys behind him and if he was a betting man, he'd lay money that it's Jingyi. He's heard that snicker many times before.

"Immediately, sir," the innkeeper says—to Lan Zhan, of course. Like Wei Wuxian is as unnoticeable to him as the phenomenon.

"There, it's all sorted out. Come on, kids." He gestures to the group of disciples. "Let this nice man show you to your room."

None of them move, of course, until Lan Zhan gives them a nod, and then they file gracefully in the wake of the innkeeper.

"You sure you don't mind sharing with me, Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian asks. "What am I saying, of course you don't. Because one, it's way better rooming with me than teenage boys, but two, we're good at this. We do—did—it all the time." They had, he thinks, trailing off into silence as Lan Zhan moves to the side, not quite leaning against the wall of the inn as he crosses his arms to wait for Wei Wuxian's room to be cleaned. They had done this all the time, it had always somehow ended up with him and Lan Zhan together, but that feels like—and possibly was—a lifetime ago.

Still. "We do our best thinking at night," he points out. "This is just good investigating."

Lan Zhan looks at him for a long moment, then does that thing where he closes his eyes for longer than a blink again.

"It's going to be like old times," Wei Wuxian declares, turning to lean against the wall next to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan is silent next to him, but when Wei Wuxian bumps him with his shoulder, he doesn't move away. Wei Wuxian grins to himself. Just like old times.

"See?" Wei Wuxian says, peering around the room. "Super clean!" The inn staff had swept and dusted and polished what looked to be every surface of the room until it gleamed. They'd gathered Wei Wuxian's stuff into a neat pile on the chair in the corner—he hasn't even been here that long, but he gets super cluttery when he's staying in an inn, somehow his clothes and papers and stuff he hadn't even known he'd been carrying with him ending up scattered absolutely everywhere.

"It looks way better than when I checked in, even. Guess you're used to that, huh? They make it nicer for the Chief Cultivator." He paces into the room, Lan Zhan following behind. "And we've got plenty of space, we'll just..." He trails off because, all brilliant ideas aside, he'd definitely sort of forgotten something. "Oh. Oh, right. Uhhh, sorry, Lan Zhan." He shoots him a smile. "I forgot that, uh, there's only one bed." He scratches the back of his head. He had forgotten, even though of course he'd known that. He just hadn't been thinking about it, as he'd worked to solve the rooming problem.

"It's fine." Lan Zhan has set Bichen down neatly on the table in the corner, which had previously been scattered with Wei Wuxian's notes and talismans he'd been working on. Which, wow, Wei Wuxian had forgotten about that, too, and he guesses he should be glad the cleaning crew hadn't run into any issues with them as they'd straightened up. "One bed is fine. It's spacious."

"Right, well, of course it is." Of course it is. It's just so...totally fine, that they'll be sharing a bed, after not seeing each other for more months than Wei Wuxian can count right now. "Or, oh, hey, you can have it." Right, now there's a perfect solution! "I can sleep on the floor, I love a good floor, at least there's no bugs or wild animals, the way there is when I camp for the night."

"You are not sleeping on the floor," Lan Zhan murmurs. He's opening his qiankun pouch and...unpacking, Wei Wuxian guesses.

"Maybe they have a pallet I can—oh right, he said no more pallets." Wei Wuxian watches as Lan Zhan sets out his few things on the table. "So sharing it is!" He feels fine about sharing. He's very good at sharing. Excellent at it, really.

Lan Zhan looks up at him. "I do not mind sharing with you," he says.

Wei Wuxian really does expect him to throw something else in there, some self-sacrificing thing like but I will sleep on the floor if you would like or another bout of insistence that he can sleep in the den of teenagers down the hall, or some other such nonsense that Wei Wuxian would need to resolutely fight back against, but...Lan Zhan just leaves it there. He's still looking at Wei Wuxian, his gaze steady. Steady, and intense. Wei Wuxian had almost forgotten how intense Lan Zhan can get. He's not sure why he's the recipient of that look right now. He just knows he's sort of gotten out of practice being looked at like that—his face goes hot for no reason. "I don't mind sharing with you either, Lan Zhan." He'd meant to say it like a joke, almost like he's teasing Lan Zhan for being so serious, but something about Lan Zhan's serious tone makes his own tone come out sort of soft, instead.

Lan Zhan holds his gaze for a handful of moments and Wei Wuxian feels himself blushing harder, even though literally nothing whatsoever is happening. "We should gather the disciples," Lan Zhan says finally. "We'll inform them of the erratic aspects of the phenomenon over dinner and begin our investigation in the morning."

"Sounds good!" Wei Wuxian is relieved. This is all familiar, something he can get behind. "Let's go check on the kids."

"They are not children," Lan Zhan murmurs as he leads Wei Wuxian out the door and down the hall. He knocks on the door and the not-very-quiet rumble of chatter behind it dulls abruptly as it swings open.

"Look at them, Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian props his hip against the doorway as Lan Zhan glides inside. The junior disciples have clearly been tussling over who shares what bed; the room is crammed full of beds and pallets and bedclothes and slightly flushed disciples in white robes, bowing low to the Chief Cultivator even as they are still subtly jostling to position themselves near the beds of their choosing. "Were we ever that young?"

Lan Zhan ignores him. "Dinner," he says to the disciples and ah, yes, food is the one thing that will get kids focused. They fall into line, the bed squabbles largely forgotten—though Wei Wuxian does spot Jingyi subtly casting a talisman at the bed by the window as they head out. He squints at it, and is pretty sure it's an avoidance talisman—pretty handy work. He gives Jingyi a raised eyebrow as Jingyi files past him, and Jingyi just shrugs and grins at him. "No shame," Wei Wuxian murmurs to himself.

Dinner is a flurry of plates and food and all of them crammed together around a table and everything going abruptly silent as everyone starts eating under Lan Zhan's calm, stern stare.

"You know this is weird, right?" Wei Wuxian offers conversationally, as he lounges at the head of the table next to Lan Zhan. "The whole silent thing? Like, the whole inn is bustling, and you guys are just..." He gestures around the table, the disciples glancing up at him curiously as they maintain their silence.

Lan Zhan looks over at him. It's just a sideways glance, that's it, but—

"Don't say it, don't say it," Wei Wuxian sighs. "I know the rules. I'm on board with the rules. I got it."

He lets the rest of the meal go by in silence, thinking about the phenomenon again. He's never seen something that behaves like that. He tries to think—has there been something he'd learned about back in school, about a device, or anything he's heard of or read about that behaves like this?

He's not even sure why he's so concerned with it. It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. Why are they all worked up about something that—

"Lan Zhan," he says abruptly, as Lan Zhan swallows his last mouthful. "What, don't look at me like that, you're done eating, I'm allowed to talk again. Anyway. Why are we even bothering with this? We should just—" Move on, he'd been going to say. Go on to the next thing, get away from this boring place. But moving on would mean Lan Zhan moving on without him. He'd gather his disciples and herd them all back to Cloud Recesses and Wei Ying would be left to his own devices again and he doesn't want—

Lan Zhan is staring at him quizzically. "You are concerned about the phenomenon," he says. "You said it has not always been there. If you are concerned, then it is a problem we are here to solve."

"Right," Wei Wuxian says. "Of course it hasn't always been here. It is a big problem, Lan Zhan. You saw that kid this afternoon, you saw that apple roll into it, it's fucked up, we've got to—" He stops abruptly. "What just happened to me?" He stares at Lan Zhan in alarm. "I was...that was weird." He'd been one hundred percent convinced the tear meant nothing, wasn't even interesting, even though he knows that's not true.

Lan Zhan's watching him. Actually, the whole table is watching him, the disciples' gazes flickering back and forth between Lan Zhan and him.

"Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan asks.

"Just now," Wei Wuxian says slowly. His brain feels like it's fighting him, like it's sluggishly still trying to convince him to just go. "I was going to try to convince you we should—that this wasn't worth looking into." He chews on his lip, trying to think clearly.

"Why?" Lan Zhan asks, after a beat.

"I don't know," Wei Wuxian says in frustration. "It doesn't make any sense. It was like the back part of my brain knew it was wrong, but the front part just wanted us to go."

Lan Zhan nods slowly, his forehead creased a little. "If that is true," he says, "then the phenomenon may be having an effect on you, as well."

"Trying to convince me to go," Wei Wuxian says, because of course that's it. "Because for some reason, it can't convince me that it's always been here."

Lan Zhan tilts his head a little bit. "You were able to push back the thought?" he asks.

"That the...thing doesn't matter?" Wei Wuxian says. "Yeah. Yeah, I was. It wanted—it was like all I wanted to do in the moment was say that—" Don't say we. "—you guys should go. Head out." He shakes his head. "I hate that," he mutters. "It's fucking with my head."

"We're staying until it's resolved." Lan Zhan nods to the disciples and they all rise as one, which is really one of the more freakish things the Lans do.

"Right." Wei Wuxian stays where he is, lounging back, his elbow propped against the table. He can't help it—something about Lan coordination makes him want to be as undisciplined as possible. "It's affecting your brain, too," Wei Wuxian points out, looking up at where Lan Zhan is standing over him, one hand tucked behind his back, sword in the other one, not impressed by Wei Wuxian's pose of relaxation. "Doesn't that bother you? That it's telling you it's no big deal?"

Lan Zhan gazes at him for a moment. "I have you," he says finally. "You see it for what it is." He turns on his heel, heading back up to the rooms, the disciples following behind him immediately.

"Not for a second there, I didn't!" Wei Ying calls after him. "I let it get to me!"

The last of the white robes is disappearing up the stairs. Wei Wuxian sighs and scrambles to his feet. "I hate that thing," he mutters to himself, casting a look towards the inn door, where he can almost feel the thing pulsing sullenly in the dark of the evening.

"But listen," he says insistently to Lan Zhan later. "I can control this. I know what it feels like now. It's tried to do it to me twice—do you know that before you got here, it was trying to send me away, get me to just move on to a new town?"

Lan Zhan looks over at him from where he's undoing his intricate headpiece. "But you didn't leave."

"Of course not." Wei Wuxian tucks his feet up under himself on the bed. He's already changed into his sleeping clothes—his standard thin pants and a top—and did so resolutely not looking at Lan Zhan, determined not to make it weird. "I pushed back against it."

"And you've done so again just now," Lan Zhan says. He's finished with his hairpiece, all the disparate parts stashed neatly away. His hair is mostly down, just a neat topknot holding some of it back. He looks profoundly young like this, almost like the boy Wei Wuxian knew so long ago.

Wei Wuxian chews on the corner of his thumbnail as he watches Lan Zhan get up from the table and start taking off his robes, layer by layer. "Right," he says, dropping his gaze down as the top layer comes off. All it is is that filmy white robe, see-through and not hiding anything—Lan Zhan has probably about six more layers to go after that—but even that thin layer being peeled off makes it feel intimate, exposed. "Right, I did. I'm good at that, at ignoring things that feel like orders. As you well know." He glances up to shoot a grin at Lan Zhan, and oh, Lan Zhan is as brisk with undressing as he is with other tasks—somehow he's down to just his inner robe, starting to shrug it off his shoulders, his back to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian's mouth goes dry at the glimpse of shoulder and he drops his gaze again abruptly, his cheeks feeling like they're blazingly hot.

"Mn," is all Lan Zhan says. From the rustling, Wei Wuxian pictures him getting neatly into his sleeping clothes, covering himself up again, which is good. It's good. He's Chief Cultivator, but even if he weren't, he's Lan Zhan, and Wei Wuxian should absolutely not be—

"Which side?"

Wei Wuxian nearly jumps out of his skin as Lan Zhan says it, much closer to him than he'd expected. "Lan Zhan," he gasps out, clutching his hand to his chest. "Warn someone, will you?"

Lan Zhan regards him with an expression that Wei Wuxian knows is concealed amusement, despite his stoic expression. "Ah. You want warning that, after I have prepared for bed, I'm coming to bed?" His eyes don't twinkle. Wei Wuxian doesn't think he's ever seen Lan Zhan's eyes twinkle. But if he did let his eyes twinkle, Wei Wuxian is pretty sure they'd be twinkling now. "Let this suffice as said warning."

Still, he stands patiently next to the bed, clad only in his own thin pants and shirt, which are, of course, white, and look soft, and are just the tiniest bit see-through. Wei Wuxian can only hope that Lan Zhan thinks his cheeks are always this red. "Right," he says, looking up at Lan Zhan. "Right, okay, bed."

Lan Zhan still stands there.

Wei Wuxian looks at him quizzically. "Why aren't you—oh. Oh." Which side, Lan Zhan had asked, because Wei Wuxian has planted himself smack dab in the middle of the bed without even thinking about it. "Sorry, I—" He scrambles to push the covers down, trying to get under them without getting off the bed, which is actually harder than it looks. "I can take either side, it really doesn't matter, but let's just—hang on, let me get in here, and I'll scoot over and—" He successfully manages to get under the covers and over to one side, then holds up the blanket and gestures grandly at the other side of the bed for Lan Zhan to get in. "All yours."

Lan Zhan regards the raised blanket for a further moment then climbs neatly into bed beside Wei Wuxian.

"Is that side okay?" Wei Wuxian asks, belatedly. It comes out hushed, even though the lamp is still lit, and it's early, for him, at least. "Do you want this one? We could switch?"

"It doesn't matter to me." Lan Zhan is lying on his back, his hands crossed over his chest. He's turned his head, and is looking at Wei Wuxian. "I can sleep on either side."

"Yeah, but." Wei Wuxian squirms over onto his side, propping himself up on one arm so he can look down at Lan Zhan. "You must have a preference."

Lan Zhan blinks at him. "It genuinely does not matter."

Well, that is just a blatant falsehood. "Yeah, okay, it can not matter, like of course you can sleep anywhere, but if given the option, you can't tell me you don't care. Everyone has a side they like more."

"Is the right side your preference?" Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Wuxian looks at him, then down at where he is, yes, resting on the right side of the bed. "It is," he says.

"Then we are well situated." Lan Zhan closes his eyes.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian lies back in a huff. "You can't just do things only because it works for me."

"Can't I?" Lan Zhan does not open his eyes.

"Nope." Wei Wuxian bumps him with his shoulder.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan says it firmly. "I prefer the left."

Wei Wuxian eyes him in the flickering lamplight of the room. "Lying is forbidden."

Lan Zhan opens his eyes. "I am aware."

Okay. "Well." Wei Wuxian clears his throat. "Well, good, then." He settles back on the bed. "We each got what we want."

Lan Zhan is quiet beside him. "Mn," he says, finally.

When Wei Wuxian leans up on one elbow to douse the lamp, Lan Zhan's eyes are still open. "Lan Zhan," he says, pausing with one hand reaching towards the lamp, "it's after your bedtime. How are you still awake?"

Lan Zhan gives him a look at that, and Wei Wuxian hastily finishes dousing the lamp. "I'm just saying," Wei Wuxian says, "that I expected you to be the one to be demanding I turn off the light." He curls up on his side, hands tucked under his cheek, facing Lan Zhan. "It's early for me, but it's been an exciting day. I guess I'm worn out."

Lan Zhan is still lying on his back, his hands crossed over his chest, but Wei Wuxian can see the glint of his open eyes, and hear the rustle as he turns his head. "Perhaps the day affected me differently," he says.

Wei Wuxian lies there quietly, processing that for a moment. "Lan Zhan," he says finally. "I have seen you fall asleep on the stroke of nine in the middle of a war. In the middle of a conversation! You fell asleep like that once in a cave with a killer tortoise. And now you're telling me that a phenomenon you don't even believe in is exciting enough to keep you awake?"

Lan Zhan shifts again on the bed, turning over onto his side to face Wei Wuxian, which. Wei Wuxian honestly doesn't know what to do with that. "That isn't what I said." His voice is quiet and—Wei Wuxian will grant this fact—not sleepy. He sounds focused. Determined. That's not something that always bodes well for Wei Wuxian.

"Right." Wei Wuxian tucks the pillow a little more fully under his head. "You didn't. How did the day affect you, then?"

Lan Zhan tucks one hand under his cheek. Wei Wuxian's eyes have adjusted to the darkness now, and he can see the curve of Lan Zhan's chin, the shadow of his eyes. He looks, again, achingly young. "Why did you leave?" Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Wuxian blinks. "I didn't," he says in surprise. "I stayed. I'm...here. I'm right here." Is the tear affecting Lan Zhan in other, weirder ways now?

Lan Zhan shakes his head, a quiet sound in the dark room. "Not here," he says. "Before."

Before. Right. Before, meaning Cloud Recesses. Before, meaning when he'd walked away from Lan Zhan, again and again. Before, meaning before Wei Wuxian started roaming the countryside, looking for work and finding it, along with trouble, usually in equal measure. "Ah," he says quietly. Lan Zhan's watching him in the darkness. A strand of hair has fallen across his cheek and Wei Wuxian very much wants to reach out and push it back into place. "Well. I think we both know why."

Lan Zhan is silent for a beat before he says, "I don't know why." If he wasn't Lan Zhan, his tone could be described as petulant.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes for a moment. "Isn't it better this way?" He blinks his eyes open, meets Lan Zhan's quiet gaze. "You do your work, I do mine, and sometimes our paths cross and we get to do it together." He's still talking softly, like the quiet of the night has instilled their conversation. "Getting to investigate this with you—I love it. It's going to be so good! Just getting this opportunity—it's the best thing that's happened to me since I left." Left Cloud Recesses. Left Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan stays quiet, watching Wei Wuxian. He still doesn't look sleepy. He doesn't even look curious. If you didn't know Lan Zhan, you wouldn't think he looks like anything at all. But Wei Wuxian can see the slight downward tug to his lip, can see how his eyes are darker than they were before. Lan Zhan doesn't even need to ask a question to get Wei Wuxian to talk. Wei Wuxian has always talked enough for both of them.

"What would I have even done, if I'd stayed?" It comes out as a whisper, like Wei Wuxian is telling a secret.

"Anything," Lan Zhan says fiercely. "Anything you wanted."

Wei Wuxian's heart feels soft and sharp, all at the same time. He shakes his head slowly, and this time he does allow himself to reach out, push the strand of hair back off Lan Zhan's face, tucking it behind his ear. He lets his hand linger there for a moment. "Ah," he says, studying Lan Zhan's face. "That's not me, though."

Anything he wanted. It's ludicrous, and he knows Lan Zhan means it, and it's part of why he left. Staying there, he'd be what? An old school friend of Lan Zhan's, kept on because he has nowhere else to go? A teacher, fumbling his way through classes with the juniors while absolutely infuriating Lan Zhan's uncle? Neither of them want that.

Lan Zhan doesn't shove his hand away, doesn't sit up or turn over or fight back. He lets Wei Wuxian rest his fingers along the side of his face, lets Wei Wuxian study him in the moonlight creeping through the shuttered windows. He opens his mouth like he's going to say something, then closes it again, and nods his head.

"It's late," Wei Wuxian says lightly, drawing his hand away. "Well, late for you. Not for me. But—we should sleep."

Lan Zhan doesn't move, doesn't turn over onto his back. He just nods again, as Wei Wuxian shifts around, trying not to jostle the bed too much, not wanting to disturb Lan Zhan. "Tomorrow," he says, feeling exhausted, suddenly, "we'll figure this whole thing out. It'll be fun."

Lan Zhan still doesn't say anything, and when Wei Wuxian looks over at him, he's got his eyes closed. He's not asleep yet—his brow is too furrowed, his jaw too tense—but Wei Wuxian lets him be. He shifts again, turning onto his side, away from Lan Zhan. He's weary to his bones, now, and he presses his face against the pillow and curls up around himself, and allows himself to fall asleep, listening to Lan Zhan breathe, slow and steady, behind him.

"So the first thing we have to do," Wei Wuxian says in the morning, clapping his hands to wake up the junior disciples, which is not something he's ever gotten to do to before and feels very pleased about, "is separate into teams based on who can perceive the phenomenon."

He and Lan Zhan are in the doorway of the room packed with teenagers, gazing out over the rumpled crew. Lan Zhan is impeccably put together and has been since Wei Wuxian rolled over this morning, feeling pretty much just as dazed as the junior disciples now look. But the early night had done Wei Wuxian a world of good and he'd scrambled out of bed, flinging on his own clothes and combing his hair quickly, glad that years of war and struggle had taught him how to make himself neat with a modicum of effort. "Worth it," he'd said to Lan Zhan, "to go mess with the juniors."

Lan Zhan hadn't agreed with that, but he hadn't not agreed with that, and he'd definitely allowed Wei Wuxian to be the one to fling the door open before dawn, exclaiming, "Rise and shine!"

He is particularly pleased that Jingyi had startled so fully that he'd actually fallen out of bed, yelping.

"Up," Wei Wuxian says now, sternly, even though most of the boys are already tumbling out of bed, hastily tugging on clothes. Sizhui, looking like he's still half-asleep, has pushed himself out of bed—the one by the window, that Jingyi had apparently claimed for the two of them, Wei Wuxian notes with interest—and is reaching down to offer Jingyi a hand up off the floor. Jingyi's hair is half in his face and his cheek is creased with sleep and he blinks up at Sizhui for a solid fifteen seconds before he manages to reach out and let himself be hauled up.

"We have plans to make," Wei Wuxian says, strolling around the room, arms crossed, enjoying the bustle and alarm of the juniors trying to get ready under Hanguang-jun's steady, silent gaze. "Problems to solve." He reaches out and pulls around the shoulder of the robe one red-faced disciple is struggling to get his arm into. The kid blushes even harder and drops into a bow that makes Wei Wuxian grin widely. These kids. "Breakfast to eat," he declares then, spinning on one heel and pointing at Lan Zhan. "These are growing kids. They need fuel in order to operate."

Lan Zhan lowers his head in a nod. He looks amused, his mouth just the slightest bit soft with it. Wei Ying notes that Sizhui is the first one ready, his robes on smoothly, his face pink where he's splashed it with water from the basin. He's combed his hair neatly and he even has his hairpiece in place as he hurries over to Lan Zhan, gives him a careful bow, and then stands neatly next to him in the doorway. He's got one hand tucked behind his back, and he's just so cute. He's attentive and serious. His hairpiece is a smaller version of Lan Zhan's epic, towering, intricately knotted one, and it makes him look younger than he is, like a little kid dressing up as an adult.

Wei Wuxian's heart gives a thump, watching the two of them stand next to each other, the same perfect posture, the same serious faces. He knows it's not possible that Sizhui looks like Lan Zhan, but he does, he does, and Wei Wuxian is suddenly, fiercely glad of that. Sizhui deserves family. He deserves it.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat, shaking his head at the rest of the tumbled masses, waiting patiently for them to finish putting themselves together. When they're all dressed, lining up near the doorway, Jingyi still hopping on one foot as he shoves the other one into his boot, he claps his hands again. "Okay!" he says.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan murmurs. "The other patrons of the inn."

"...okay," Wei Wuxian says again, a little bit more quietly. "Let's go get some food and make a plan."

"Let's do it like this," Wei Wuxian says, as a half-asleep serving girl shuffles around distributing bowls of congee around their table. They're not the only ones in the dining room but otherwise there's only a couple of men who are clearly traders, up early to get on the road. The disciples are all gathered around one long table, looking first at Lan Zhan and then at Wei Wuxian, then down at their steaming bowls of food. "Oh, don't look at me like that," Wei Wuxian says, shoving his shoulder against Lan Zhan's. "I know, no talking while eating, but time is of the essence here. Eat." He waves commandingly, grinning at them as they still hesitate until Lan Zhan nods at them, sipping his tea and seemingly ignoring the press of Wei Wuxian's shoulder against his own. "You eat, and I'll talk. Play to our strengths."

Lan Zhan nudges Wei Wuxian's bowl closer to him and gives him a sideways glance. "I'll eat, too," Wei Wuxian says. "But first: a plan. Who here thinks the tear out there is really fu—" Lan Zhan's shoulder presses against his heavily for a moment. "—really, really weird and off-putting? Like it definitely doesn't belong here, and is definitely something we need to figure out?"

The kids look, some with spoons still in their mouths, and hands go up, tentatively. Wei Wuxian whistles. "Not many, not many," he muses. Of the eight disciples, only three of them have their hands raised. "Sizhui?" Wei Wuxian asks in surprise.

Sizhui shakes his head silently, his hands both down, one wrapped around his spoon still. He looks like he's sorry about it, like he wishes he could be as freaked out by the thing as Wei Wuxian is. Jingyi, sitting next to him, grins around his spoon and nudges him with one elbow. His hand is fully up, his arm extended high, like he's waiting to be called on. He opens his mouth and Sizhui shakes his head, making stern eyes at him.

Jingyi sighs, nearly silently, but keeps his hand up.

"Okay, so we got Jingyi, and this guy, with the crooked headband—" The disciple he points at flushes and wipes his hands on a napkin before swiftly reaching up to try to straighten the headband. "—and this one at the end here, what are your names? No, you know what, don't tell me, I'm really bad at names." Okay. So. Hmm.

"Teams," Lan Zhan murmurs. He's finished his congee, swiftly and efficiently, and he reaches for the teapot on the table, holding back his sleeve and pouring another cup for himself. He holds the pot towards Wei Wuxian and oh, right. Wei Wuxian gulps down the cup of tea in front of him and pushes it towards Lan Zhan for a refill.

"Teams!" he declares. "Right!" He breaks them up into uneven sets of three teams—two, three, and three—and grins as Jingyi tucks his arm through Sizhui's and hauls him close, saying hastily, "We're together. He's like Hanguang-jun: he knows it's there, but he can't understand why everyone is so freaked out."

"Fine, fine." Wei Wuxian pushes himself up from the table. "What next?"

"One team should talk to the townspeople," Lan Zhan says.

"Correct!" Wei Ying points at a set of boys. "That's you. Talk to folks. Make them comfortable. You're here to help. Try to see if there's a pattern, of who is freaked out by it, who thinks it's always been there, and who doesn't seem to know it's here at all. Next?" He arches an eyebrow at Lan Zhan.

"Other unusual phenomena," Lan Zhan says.

"Right." Wei Wuxian points at the next set of boys. "Look around. See if there's anything else weird about this place. Use your talismans, try to find pockets of unusual energy. That's not necessarily something your average townsperson will notice. Take your time, look around, take notes, okay?"

The three kids nod nervously.

"The...phenomenon itself," Lan Zhan says. He looks solemn and determined, like he can somehow make himself be concerned about this unconcerning thing.

"That's us," Wei Wuxian declares. "Us and these kids." Is he playing favorites? Probably. He doesn't care. He doesn't know those other kids and they look wet behind the ears, like they're brand new, whereas Sizhui and Jingyi have seen things, they know things. Their strongest bet is to put their best team on the tear itself.

"Now, go," Wei Wuxian orders. "We'll meet back here for lunch." He beams, watching the boys jump up and head out of the inn. Sizhui and Jingyi get up, as well, hovering near Lan Zhan—Sizhui with some solemnity, Jingyi nearly bouncing on his toes as he waits.

"Let's go check it out," Wei Wuxian says. Lan Zhan inclines his head and Sizhui and Jingyi take the lead, striding out the door. Wei Wuxian strolls along beside them, Lan Zhan matching his pace. "What good kids," he says. "You've done a good job with them."

"They're not kids anymore," Lan Zhan points out. "Sizhui is a junior teacher. He trains the younger ones on a regular basis. Jingyi—" He lifts his chin towards where Jingyi is hurrying along beside Sizhui, talking incessantly, his entire body curved towards Sizhui. "—for all of his...energy, has shown himself to have fine instincts. I often put him in charge during night hunts."

"Nope," Wei Wuxian says firmly. "They are tiny children, still. I am sticking to that. They were only just born."

Lan Zhan has an almost soft look on his face as he glances up at the boys. He doesn't argue the fact.

When they get near the phenomenon, Wei Wuxian pulls his flute out of his belt, just to have something to do with his hands. "What does it make you feel?" he asks, twirling Chenqing. "When you look at it?"

Lan Zhan's brow crinkles just the slightest amount. He's not doing the thing some townspeople do, where their gaze just slides away from the tear. He's looking right at it, as is Sizhui. He doesn't seem disturbed by the uneven pulsing of whatever matter it's made up of, or by the bilious swirling of the center of it—both of which make Wei Wuxian's stomach turn over just a little bit. While they don't make him want to ignore it, his whole body really wants him to stop looking right at it.

"It's gross," Jingyi declares. He looks a little green around his mouth, but he's resolutely staring at the thing. "It makes me feel like it shouldn't be here, or like I shouldn't be here. It's really fu...messed up," he finishes, finally tearing his eyes off of the thing.

"Sizhui?" Lan Zhan asks softly.

Sizhui is staring at it, then back at Jingyi, then at the tear again. "It's not...anything," he says tentatively. "It doesn't make me feel anything. I don't get it. It's just there." He gestures around the street. "I guess it makes me feel the same as, I don't know, that hawthorne vendor, or that front stoop. There's nothing to it." He sounds worried, though, and he looks at Jingyi again, who pats his shoulder.

"I feel the same," Lan Zhan says after a pause. "There does not seem to be any import to it. I am aware that it does, in fact, have import." He glances at Wei Wuxian and something about that look is very much like the uncertain glance Sizhui has just given Jingyi. "But I can't understand why."

"Interesting." Wei Ying taps Chenqing against his leg, circling the pulsing tear. The rear of it is the same as the front, like it's a chunk that's been torn out of space, a gaping hole where the world is supposed to be. "There's no pull to it," he comments, as he circles closer. "No tug, nothing that feels like it's drawing me in."

"Even though it feels like it should be drawing us in," Jingyi bursts out. "The way it pulses, and the swirls." He swallows heavily, going green again as he looks at it. "You'd think it would, like, tug at you."

"You'd think." Wei Wuxian stops, making himself stare into the center of it. "It seems like it should be a portal or something, like it should go somewhere, but." He stops. Looking at it makes his head hurt, and swim, a little bit. "But that's not exactly it. It doesn't—hmm." His stomach turns over as he stares at the swirls for too long. "It feels a little like...something is feeding it? Or...someone?" He doesn't know. His head hurts. But he's got this feeling like this is a familiar thing, that this feeling of a thread of...something, some power, being fed into it, is something he nearly recognizes.

He gazes for another second, then moves back a little bit, then just the tiniest bit more. "Well," he says, not allowing himself to look away, "let's see if it's hungry."

He lifts Chenqing to his lips swiftly and starts to play. The black threads of resentful energy swirl out, a completely different swirling than that of the tear, and there's a comforting familiarity to it that settles Wei Wuxian's stomach. He lets himself get lost in the tune he's playing, trying out different modulations, letting Chenqing lead the way. The roils of black energy fill the air in front of him, and he's vaguely aware that he's drawing the attention of passers-by, but he stays focused.

When the swirls meet the roiling surface of blackness, there is an instant burst of...something. Energy? A spike? He's caught up in the song and he's not sure what happens, but the thing gives an enormous pulse, and the resentful energy gets sucked in so hard that Wei Wuxian stumbles forward after it, drawn by the energy, by the song, playing harder, faster, losing himself in it until—

There's a steel-like grip on his shoulder and he gets yanked backwards. He nearly drops Chenqing, managing to tighten his grip just in time. He can't stop looking at the pulsing darkness, even as he vaguely hears a voice saying his name. It's not until something bodily hauls him around, forces his gaze from the void, that he comes back to himself. He's sagging in Lan Zhan's grip, Lan Zhan's face slowly coming into focus in front of him. His head hurts. His fingers feel almost numb. He thinks he might throw up, for a second, but instead his knees give out underneath him and he collapses, Lan Zhan's grip easing him down to the ground.

"Wei-qianbei," he hears from what sounds like a very great distance. It's Sizhui, oh, he's here, too, that's nice.

"He looks...bad," he hears, and right, okay, he remembers now, Jingyi's here, he can see the thing, he should have him explain what he saw when Wei Wuxian had...

His head spins again, and he presses his forehead against Lan Zhan's arm, where Lan Zhan is propping him up, and closes his eyes. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, with some urgency. Lan Zhan is calling him. Lan Zhan needs him. Wei Wuxian should get up, he should—

"I'm okay," he manages. He needs to lift his head off of Lan Zhan's arm. "I'm fine. That was weird, huh? That didn't feel good. I didn't like that." Chenqing is still loose in his hand and Wei Wuxian suddenly thinks of the apple from yesterday, how it rolled into the void and disappeared. He fumbles his flute closer, then presses it against Lan Zhan's chest. "Can you hold her?" he asks anxiously. He thinks he's slurring his words. His head hurts. "Hold onto her for me, don't let her go, it's important."

He hears someone suck in their breath when Lan Zhan tucks Chenqing into his own belt firmly. He's pretty sure it's Jingyi when he hears a whispered, "...damn."

"I should get up." He looks up at Lan Zhan. "Help me up?"

Lan Zhan is dubious, but he's also casting a look at the thing, still pulsing nearby—oh god, Wei Wuxian's stomach turns over again, he needs to not think about the pulsing—and he gets one strong arm around Wei Wuxian's shoulders, hauling him to his feet.

"See?" Wei Wuxian says, stumbling just a little as Lan Zhan tugs him away from the hole. "I'm totally good." He grins at Lan Zhan as the world tilts around him, everything going hazy and dim.

"Wei Ying," is the last thing he hears, and you know what, that really is comforting, no matter how freaked out Lan Zhan sounds.

He wakes up between one moment and the next. What the fuck happened. Where is he? Did the thing—oh fuck, where is Chenqing, did it—

He's fumbling at his belt, looking for her, when he hears, "Wei Ying."

He blinks his eyes into focus. "Lan Zhan," he says, and breathes out in relief when Lan Zhan presses Chenqing into his hand. "Oh, thank fuck." He pushes himself to a sitting position and immediately regrets it, his head spinning and his stomach turning over hard. He freezes, swallowing again and again, his jaw clenched.

When he's able to open his eyes again, fairly certain his stomach will not betray him, Lan Zhan is easing him back against the pillows behind him, a look of quiet alarm on his face. Oh, they're back at the inn. That's good, that's probably good.

Lan Zhan is pressing a cup of tea into his hand. Wei Wuxian gives him a watery smile. "Got anything stronger?" He's going for a light tone, but his voice comes out wobbly and Lan Zhan doesn't seem to think it's a funny joke.

"Drink the tea," he says. He's sitting on the edge of the bed beside Wei Wuxian and something about that strikes Wei Wuxian as bizarrely intimate—the unflappable Hanguang-jun, playing bedside nurse to the Yiling-laozu.

He takes a sip of the tea—his hands are shaking so badly he needs to hold the cup with both of them. "That thing really fucked me up," he says. "Also, this tea tastes disgusting."

"It's medicinal." Lan Zhan's lips are pressed together in a stern line, as he watches Wei Wuxian take cautious sips of the vile tea. "That thing—it almost pulled you in."

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. "It wasn't me it was after." Fuck. He's exhausted.

Lan Zhan reaches to take the cup out of his hand before he can drop it. "The resentful energy," he says slowly.

Wei Wuxian nods, pleased. "Exactly." He's sagged back against the pillows. His head hurts. He still feels like he may—possibly—be sick if he moves too quickly. "The thing I don't get," he says slowly, trying to work it out, "is why I feel so terrible. Like, if it wanted the energy, the thing to do was let me keep playing. Instead, it fucking...yanked it out of me? I don't know. It's never happened like that. I've always controlled it, let it flow through me, but whatever it did just now..."

Lan Zhan reaches out and carefully takes Wei Wuxian's hand in his own. Wei Wuxian stares down at their joined hands and it's really only then that he realizes he's still trembling, his whole body shaking. Lan Zhan's hand is cool and dry, and encompasses Wei Wuxian's own. He has such big hands, Wei Wuxian thinks, vaguely. He's always noticed that, but right now, he can't stop, and he puts his other hand on top of Lan Zhan's, like he can leech away the coolness, take it into himself, maybe stop shaking.

When he manages to look up, Lan Zhan is watching him. He reaches out his free hand, pressing it to Wei Wuxian's forehead and oh, that feels good, too.

"You're burning up," Lan Zhan says shortly, starting to pull away, trying to stand up.

"Nooo," Wei Wuxian says, hanging onto his hand, trying to hold him in place. He knows he's not really able to hold him here, he's too weak right now, but Lan Zhan sits back down, his entire body tense, like he wants to leap right back up and go get help. "Don't go, hang on, just stay here with me." He misses Lan Zhan's hand on his forehead. It was like a cool compress. It makes him think of the way his shijie would take care of him when he was sick.

"Let me help." Lan Zhan's back gets even straighter, if that's possible, and he's clearly readying himself to feed Wei Wuxian some healing energy, which, okay, Wei Wuxian is willing to admit he probably needs, but Lan Zhan will close his eyes, get caught up in it, and Wei Wuxian just...really wants his attention, right now. It's the weirdest fucking thing, but he doesn't want to feel lonely. He can't be alone, not right now.

"I will." Wei Wuxian looks up at Lan Zhan. "You are. Listen, I'll let you," he says, before Lan Zhan can break in, "but can you just stay here, with me? Just for a minute?"

Lan Zhan pauses, then nods. He settles down next to Wei Wuxian and then he moves his hand, turning it so he's lacing their fingers together, and holding on tight.

Wei Wuxian's heart gives a thump at that and he squeezes back. "I'm okay," he says. "I really am. I've been through worse than this and come back even better." That's not entirely true, but that's okay, they both know the truth isn't something you really want to look at head-on.

"I thought it was going to take you," Lan Zhan says. He sounds tired. He looks tired, which never happens. He has a few strands of hair falling out of his usually immaculate topknot and it's possible—unlikely, but possible—that his headpiece is the tiniest, tiniest bit askew. It's incredibly cute.

"It could never," Wei Wuxian declares weakly. "It's no match for me." He's fronting but also, he remembers the vicious pull of the tear, and the screaming of Chenqing in his head as she fought it.

"And even afterwards," Lan Zhan continues doggedly, "I thought it had taken your energy. Too much of it," he adds, off of Wei Wuxian's look. "I thought we'd stopped it too late."

His hand is really, really tight around Wei Wuxian's and for the first time, Wei Wuxian notices that the sunlight coming in through the windows has changed angles, and has the richness of late afternoon. "How long was I out?" he asks.

Lan Zhan squeezes his hand again, not taking his eyes off of Wei Wuxian's face. "Half the day," he says.

Hours, then. Hours of him, lost in unconsciousness, and he still feels like shit. That seems unfair, that his body wouldn't have done some healing in that time. Actually. He raises one eyebrow at Lan Zhan. "How much energy did you give me over that time?"

Lan Zhan, to his credit, does not blush or make even a small attempt to avoid the question. "Enough to make sure you were healing," he says steadily.

"You look as shitty as I feel." He does. His eyes look red, raw, and he's not shaking, because the venerable Hanguang-jun never trembles, but Wei Wuxian is pretty sure that's taking a great strength of will. "You gave me too much."

Lan Zhan shrugs—shrugs! "Not just me," he says.

Wei Wuxian chews on that for a moment. "Sizhui?" he says finally. "He's just a kid. He shouldn't be—"

"I told you," Lan Zhan says. "He's no longer a child. He has a strong core. He's trained." His jaw is set in a stubborn line. Wei Wuxian wonders what he's thinking, wonders if he, too, is remembering a three-year-old Sizhui, dressed in rough robes, with an easy smile and a bright laugh, and comparing him with the steady young man he's become.

"Ah, Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian's too sleepy, too foggy, to not reach up and trace one finger along the line of Lan Zhan's jaw, the way he always wants to.

Lan Zhan doesn't move, not even when Wei Wuxian's hand lingers there. His eyes are very dark and they just look at each other, for a moment.

"Wei Ying—" Lan Zhan says, and then there's a knock at the door behind him. Wei Wuxian lets his hand fall from Lan Zhan's face.

Lan Zhan sighs, the tiniest bit, through his nose, and says, "Come."

The door eases open. It's one of the disciples Wei Wuxian doesn't know, the one who had the crooked headband. He looks calm but a little wide-eyed as he moves into the room and bows. "Hanguang-jun," he says, extremely formally.

These kids, Wei Wuxians thinks fondly. They're all so cute.

"This disciple would inform you that the kitchen has sent up food." He waits and Wei Wuxian is pretty sure he's using quite a lot of energy to keep from shifting from foot to foot. "Would you like it brought in?"

Lan Zhan, who hasn't moved, hasn't extracted his hand from Wei Wuxian's, looks down at him.

Wei Wuxian checks in with his stomach, which seems to have finally settled down. "I could eat," he says.

"Yes," Lan Zhan says over his shoulder to the disciple, who looks relieved at having the offer accepted and swiftly bows again, backing out of the room.

They eat, the two of them, Lan Zhan with enough alacrity that Wei Wuxian knows that he, too, hasn't eaten anything since breakfast. The food has come up on trays, but Wei Wuxian is both stubborn and annoying enough to get Lan Zhan to help him over to the table to eat. "I'm not an invalid," he says, even as his knees give out and he drops rather than sits in the chair when he gets there. "I just had a...bad day."

"Hmm," Lan Zhan says, studying him, but he sits next to him and nudges the bowl of soup over to Wei Wuxian's side of the table.

Wei Wuxian eats in silence, too hungry (and, if he were honest, too focused on not letting the hand holding the spoon tremble too much) to push the "no talking while eating" rule.

They're both done in record time and Wei Wuxian props his elbow up on the table in the way he knows Lan Zhan hates. He grins at him—Lan Zhan looks like he, too, would like something to be holding him up. "Maybe not our best foray into the investigation, huh?" he says, shaking his head. "Not the strongest start."

Lan Zhan gives him a steady look. "Perhaps not." He nods over at the stack of papers from the other side of the table. "The other teams fared...well, let us say, with somewhat less excitement."

Wei Wuxian looks over at the stack. "Even the idea of going through all of that is exhausting," he says, but he can't help reaching for the pile anyway, tugging it over to himself. "You Lans have such good note-taking skills," he continues. "I don't think I've ever taken a coherent note in my life."

"Untrue," Lan Zhan says. "The records of your experiments were comprehensive enough to be published."

Wei Wuxian's face goes startlingly hot and he ducks his head, focusing on the papers he's going through. Lan Zhan honestly just says stuff like that, right out loud. "You're the one who put them all together," he mutters, tugging one of the reports out of the pile to study more closely. "I just jotted stuff down so that I wouldn't make too many things explode again by accident." If he thinks too much about Lan Zhan putting together his notes into a readable text, with a glossary and footnotes, and not only getting it published, but assigning it in classes, all during the time while Wei Wuxian was, well. Dead. Yeah. If he thinks too closely on that, he's going to spontaneously combust, so—

There's a knock at the door and Wei Wuxian blows out a sigh of relief. "Come in!" he calls immediately, and beams as Sizhui enters.

"Hanguang-jun." Sizhui bows. "Wei-qianbei."

"Come here, my best and most timely disciple." Wei Wuxian starts to push himself up from the table, but his knees wobble underneath him and he sits back down abruptly. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He waves it off as Sizhui hurries over to him, casting a concerned look over his head at Lan Zhan. "Hey," he says, looking back and forth between the two of them, where they're exchanging some sort of minute series of secret Lan eye signals. "Stop that, stop talking with your eyebrows, I'm right here."

Whatever information Sizhui had gotten from Lan Zhan in that exchange of microexpressions calms him enough that he nods and sits down neatly on the chair in between the two of them. Still, he's studying Wei Wuxian with a critical eye, and Wei Wuxian tosses down the report he'd been reading, looking up at him. "What? One tussle with a slightly cranky phenomenon and suddenly I'm an invalid?"

"You just look...not that great," Sizhui says. "Sort of like you might fall over."

"Well." Wei Wuxian is offended. Just because he feels like he might fall over doesn't mean Sizhui has to say it. "I'm not going to."

"Mn." Sizhui's expression looks exactly like Lan Zhan's when he's going to be as tiresome—and stubborn—as it's possible to be.

"I'm not. And anyway." Wei Wuxian nods at the pile of papers. "You're going to be a very good boy and sum up everything that happened today for me."

"Of course." Sizhui is looking at him steadily. "You should lie down while I get my thoughts in order."

Wei Wuxian glares first at Sizhui, then at Lan Zhan. "I know that was your idea," he says to Lan Zhan.

"Sizhui has independence of will," Lan Zhan murmurs, which is not a denial of the accusation.

Sizhui has stood up and is waiting, his expression patient, looking at Wei Wuxian. His lips are pressed together and Wei Wuxian knows that look, knows that Sizhui can be as stubborn as both Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian put together. He blows out his breath and pushes himself up. "Do not," he says, when Sizhui reaches forward as he wobbles just the tiniest bit. "I'm fine."

Lan Zhan has risen, too. He doesn't reach for Wei Wuxian as he makes his way to the bed, but he does stay very close behind him. "You're both ridiculous aunties," Wei Wuxian declares. His knees hold out until he gets there and if he drops down to the bed a little abruptly, well, so be it. He's just tired, is all. At least he doesn't feel dizzy or sick anymore. "But I'll allow it, because if you want me to be lazy and loll around in bed while you do my research for me, well, that's the dream then, isn't it?"

"Mn." Lan Zhan is right beside him and Wei Wuxian emphatically ignores him as he helps Wei Wuxian settle back against the pillows, his movements swift and gentle and completely unnecessary.

"Talk to me," Wei Wuxian orders Sizhui, who has moved closer and is standing at the foot of the bed. "What did the kids find out?"

Sizhui gives a quick nod. "The teams did a thorough investigation of the town," he says. "They spoke to a great many people. There doesn't seem to be a pattern to which people can discern the phenomenon, which people are disturbed by it, and which people believe it has always been there. We have to do more research to be certain but there is not an immediate pattern."

Interesting. Hmm. "Go on," Wei Wuxian says, distractedly taking the cup Lan Zhan hands him, taking a sip and wrinkling his nose. "The disgusting tea? Still?"

Lan Zhan ignores him, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Wei Wuxian and nodding at Sizhui to continue. "The energy pockets," he murmurs.

"This is where it gets really curious." Sizhui looks excited, now: not quite bouncing on his toes, but looking like he wants to. "There are strange pockets of energy scattered throughout the town. Nothing that resolves itself into anything like the phenomenon—according to Jingyi—"

Right. Sizhui is one of those who can't discern the thing.

"—but more like areas of unresolved...something." He looks at Lan Zhan, a little helplessly. "I can't quite explain it. It's like...areas where something full of old power gathered? We think? Like, you can feel It, when you get near it. We all could, even those of us who can't feel or see the tear. It feels weird, like your bones themselves are picking up on the energy fluctuation, this residual pocket of something that feels...wrong." He looks between both of them. "Powerful, and wrong."

Wei Wuxian is silent for a moment, chewing that over. "Powerful and wrong," he says. "That sounds fucked up. And right up my alley."

Lan Zhan nods a little, still looking at Sizhui.

Wei Wuxian grins. "See? Even Hanguang-jun agrees with me. Okay. I'm going to need to experience one of these pockets of weird, wrong energy for myself." He starts to push himself up, and Lan Zhan stops him with a hand on his thigh.

"Tomorrow," Lan Zhan says firmly, looking at him.

"Oh." Lan Zhan's hand is on his thigh. Lan Zhan is sitting there beside him, on the bed they're sharing, and his hand is on his thigh, right there with Sizhui watching. Wei Wuxian glances up, and sees Sizhui's gaze focused somewhere up and to the left of Wei Wuxian's shoulder, his face set in an expression of resolute ignorance. "Okay," Wei Wuxian says. Does he sound flustered? He thinks he sounds flustered. "Tomorrow, then. I guess everyone's tired."

Lan Zhan nods. "Tomorrow."

"Mn." Sizhui gives a quick bow to them both, still not meeting their eyes. "Tomorrow. Good night, Hanguang-jun. Good night, Wei-qianbei." He exits the room in something close to a scurry.
It's not until the door is firmly shut that Lan Zhan's shoulders sag, just a little. His hand is still resting on Wei Wuxian's thigh, like he's forgotten it's there. "You must sleep," he says.

Wei Wuxian can see him swallowing a yawn. "You, too," he says softly.

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I should—" He gestures over to the table, scattered with their plates and the piles of papers.

Wei Wuxian, feeling bold, puts one hand over Lan Zhan's where it rests on his thigh, curling their fingers together. "I'll sleep better," he says, "if you're here with me."

Lan Zhan blinks down at their hands, where they're clasped together, then looks up at Wei Wuxian. "Okay," he says. He is exhausted, to go down with that little of a fight, Wei Wuxian thinks.

Lan Zhan gets himself ready for bed with a modicum of movement, stripping the headpiece off, shrugging out of his robes.

Wei Wuxian watches him. The room is quiet and it feels easy to just lie in bed and watch as Lan Zhan strips off the trappings of Chief Cultivator until he's just...Lan Zhan. The Lan Zhan Wei Wuxian knows; the Lan Zhan Wei Wuxian knows better than he knows anyone else, maybe. Even when they had been closer, though, even before Wei Wuxian had left Cloud Recesses, he hadn't gotten to see this very much: Lan Zhan, in just his sleep clothes, hair down, face drawn with exhaustion, padding barefoot around the room as he readies it for the night. It feels intimate, and Wei Wuxian, his head aching only a little, is content to lie there and watch as Lan Zhan gathers their dishes and sets them outside the door, douses the lamps, and climbs into bed.

"Hey," Wei Wuxian says softly, when Lan Zhan settles back against the pillows.

Lan Zhan looks at him. "Wei Ying." He's studying his face and turns a little bit, touching his forehead again.

"I'm okay." Wei Wuxian is too tired to bat Lan Zhan's hand away, and besides, it does feel good, the cool of it against his skin. "Just tired."

"Mn." Lan Zhan pulls his hand away and Wei Wuxian has to stop himself from leaning forward to try to get it back. "Sleep."

"I will," Wei Wuxian says, like he's promising something. "You, too." He wants to touch Lan Zhan's face again, wonders if he could chalk it up to exhaustion if he were to cup Lan Zhan's cheek, run his thumb along the dark circles under his eyes. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you look terrible. Or, okay, as terrible as it's possible for you to look, which is not very, but you get what I mean."

Lan Zhan doesn't immediately respond. He lifts one hand again, then stops himself, turning onto his back and settling both hands on his chest. "Sleep," he says again.

"Yeah." Wei Wuxian whispers it into the darkness. He watches Lan Zhan for a little while, as his eyes close and his body does the thing of sinking immediately into sleep—it's always fascinating to see it happen, his form going limp, his breaths deep and even, his mouth going slack.

He watches Lan Zhan breathe, his own eyes getting heavier and heavier, until he can't keep them open anymore, slipping into sleep.

He doesn't know how long it's been when he wakes up, the room still dark, full of the quiet stillness of the night. He's cold all along his back, where he'd shrugged the covers off in his sleep, but he's curled up against something soft and warm. It takes him too long to open his eyes and realize he's pressed up against Lan Zhan's side, his face against Lan Zhan's shoulder. He tries to ease himself back, even though nothing on this earth is going to wake up Lan Zhan when he's down like this. He can't move very far, and he looks down, realizing that Lan Zhan's hand is wrapped in Wei Wuxian's shirt, holding onto him firmly, keeping him close.

He looks up at Lan Zhan's face—still slack, still sleeping—and puts his hand over Lan Zhan's, carefully loosening his hold on him until he can place Lan Zhan's hand back on his own chest. He shifts away, shivering as he curls up around himself.

He falls asleep again almost immediately, and has strange, vivid dreams of having to navigate deep, rolling rivers with slippery banks.

He wakes up with the dawn, squinting against the light filtering in around the shutters. He's warm all over this time, the blankets drawn up over his shoulders, and oh. Lan Zhan has shifted onto his side, curled up close around Wei Wuxian. He's got one arm draped across Wei Wuxian's body, and he's asleep, even though it's light out. Wei Wuxian doesn't move, barely breathes. He watches Lan Zhan's face in the dim morning sun, studying him like he'll be tested on it later, like he has to memorize the curve of his cheek, the slant of his eyebrows. He shifts, finally, trying to draw away so Lan Zhan won't be embarrassed by having done this when he wakes up, but Lan Zhan's arm tightens around him, his brow furrowing a little bit in his sleep, and Wei Wuxian has no choice but to relax again, pressed along Lan Zhan's side.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep again, but he does, only waking when there's a clatter from outside the door. He's alone in bed, the covers tucked around him, and when he pushes himself up blearily, clutching the blankets close, Lan Zhan is sitting at the table. He’s fully dressed, headpiece catching the sunlight from the window near the table, going through the reports.

"Hey," Wei Wuxian protests. "Don't start without me."

Lan Zhan looks up as Wei Wuxian stumbles out of bed, kicking at the blanket that gets caught around his foot. "Fuck," he says, hurrying over to the table and throwing himself in a chair, drawing his feet up under him. "It's cold."

Lan Zhan nods, and pours Wei Wuxian a cup of tea from the steaming pot next to him. "The temperature fell overnight," he says.

Wei Wuxian brings the cup of tea up close to his face, letting the steam warm him. "I can tell." He takes a sip, looking at Lan Zhan over the rim. "Sleep okay?" he asks, casually. So casually. It was cold, and that had to be why Lan Zhan's body had betrayed him, dragging Wei Wuxian close, for warmth.

"Mn." Lan Zhan stacks the reports together. "I think," he says slowly, and Wei Wuxian's heart gives a weird thump. Are they going to talk about this? "I think," Lan Zhan says again, "that we need to change tack."

"Right," Wei Wuxian says. "Uh. You mean..."

"The energy fluctuations," Lan Zhan says.

"Oh." Oh. "Right, those." Wei Wuxian nods several times in a row. The phenomenon. Right.

"We should focus on those today," Lan Zhan says. "Something's not right, and I think it's more than just the tear."

"Well." Wei Wuxian reaches for the pile of reports. "Okay, I'm with you. How about you go roust the troops—" He waves his hand in the general direction of the disciples' room. "—and I'll get my act together here, and meet you outside."

Lan Zhan nods and rises. Wei Wuxian watches as he crosses the room. He's wearing a set of cloud-blue robes, cinched tight in the middle by a complicated sash. No voluminous sleeves with this set of robes. The overall picture he makes is one of brisk efficiency. Ready for business, in a slightly ethereal way. "Hey," Wei Wuxian calls as he gets to the door.

Lan Zhan turns, gazing at him expectantly. God, he's beautiful. "Don't get started without me," Wei Wuxian says. "Don't want you getting in trouble."

Lan Zhan's mouth doesn't—quite—quirk in a smile. "We'll meet you outside," he says, and heads out.

Wei Ying looks at the reports as he gets cleaned up and dressed, spreading them out on the table so he can flip through them as he puts on his robes, tilting his head to study the sketch of the pulsating black tear that Jingyi has done: a good, detailed representation of it, with several arrows pointing towards it, like he'd been trying to get Sizhui to be able to understand its import through sheer force of will.

He grabs a bun out of the basket of them on the table and shoves it into his mouth as he hops on one foot, struggling to get his other one into his boot. "Residual energy," he mutters to himself around the bun. "Why would there be residual energy? What's the pattern here? What the fuck does it have to do with the tear?"

He's going to figure this out. He feels like he's missing a piece here, that he's close, that he could work this out if he could only put together enough clues.

They keep the disciples together in a group this time around. "Go investigate," Wei Wuxian calls ahead to them, as they file solemnly through the town. "That one place you found, the back garden area near the tea room, let's start there. Lead the way."

Lan Zhan is pacing along next to him, both of them letting the juniors take the lead. "They do seem to be taking this seriously, at least," Wei Wuxian says cheerfully. He's in an excellent mood. The solid night's sleep seems to have taken care of the headache from yesterday, and he's got that good feeling of a solution sort of slowly coming together in one corner of his brain. "Look at them go."

They really do make quite the picture, the line of them making their way along the street. Sizhui and Jingyi are in the lead, the two of them talking intently, Jingyi's head tilted down towards Sizhui's. "They're cute," Wei Wuxian says, nodding his head up at them. "How long has that been going on?"

Lan Zhan glances up. "How long has what been going on?"

"The crush," Wei Wuxian says, glancing over at Lan Zhan. "Oh, come on, you can see it from the next town over. Jingyi looks at Sizhui like he hung the moon." He grins as Jingyi bumps Sizhui with his shoulder. "And Sizhui doesn't seem to mind. These kids."

Lan Zhan frowns a little bit, slowing down as he looks up at them. "No," he says decisively. "Sizhui has not said anything about this."

"Oh yeah," Wei Wuxian says. "LIke he'd tell you about the boy he likes. You're like a father to him."

Lan Zhan frowns harder.

"Oh, come on, don't worry about it." Wei Wuxian pats his shoulder. "They're good kids. Jingyi's got a good head on his shoulders. And Sizhui could use a little bit less seriousness in his life. Oh, hey, look. Is this the place?"

Sizhui is bowing to the proprietress of the tea house. It's an older lady, her hands shaking slightly. She seems to be looking somewhere off over Sizhui's shoulder. Even from here, her gaze looks unfocused, like she's distracted, but hey, maybe that works in their favor, because she's gesturing their group to the back garden without further questions.

It is cold, the air around them bracing, like the season has flipped over to winter between one day and the next. The garden is empty, no patrons around, which is good for their investigation purposes. "It's huge," Wei Wuxian says, blinking. It's a sprawling area, with neat stone paths traced throughout it, wooden bowers of what would be flower-laden arches in the spring and summer scattered throughout. The paths weave in and out of the bowers, and it really is a big area, with pockets of secluded seating areas, benches tucked back under trees. "It must be beautiful when it's in season. It feels good. Private. Look at this place—it's built for privacy. I bet people come here all the time to talk, and plot, and plan." He casts a sideways glance at Lan Zhan. "Don't you think?"

Lan Zhan doesn't say anything. "Do you feel it?" he asks. He looks slightly uneasy, which is a strange look on him. "That feeling of..." He stops, clearly searching for the word, and finally shrugs, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Wei Wuxian is left uneasy himself, by how weird Lan Zhan is acting. He stops, gazing around. The juniors are conducting the investigation, gathered into little groups as they make their way through the gardens. "I don't feel anything," he says slowly. He doesn't. He finds his hand resting on Chenqing where she's tucked into his belt, and takes it away quickly. He doesn't think adding more resentful energy here would be particularly helpful. "Lan Zhan. Is it stronger in certain places?"

Lan Zhan hesitates, and then nods slowly. "I think...yes." He glances around, then shuts his eyes for a moment, like he's feeling for it. "Here," he says finally, opening his eyes and gesturing towards a curved path, leading around a tree, towards where the garden dips down. "It's...come with me."

"The kids already looked that area over," Wei Wuxian says, but he's right next to Lan Zhan, following him along the path. "There wasn't anything here, it was just a normal..."

He trails off. The path dips down with the garden, to a quiet copse of trees. The sounds of the tea house, and the investigating juniors, fall away, quickly enough that Wei Wuxian feels like his ears have popped. There's not even birdsong back here, just an intense sort of quiet, a feeling of the whole world drawing to a halt, like they've taken a step out of time. "What is that?" he says softly. He feels like he can only say things softly, that this place will only allow for that. "It's not exactly an energy pocket, it's—"

Lan Zhan shakes his head a little, looking around as well. "I don't know," he says. His voice is quiet as well, and Wei Wuxian glances over at him. "It's odd. It feels...odd."

"It really fucking does," Wei Wuxian mutters. He paces around the perimeter of the set-back circle of trees, trying to feel for something, anything, that will explain this. "The kids were just here and they didn't report anything, but it feels—" He glances over at Lan Zhan.

"It does." Lan Zhan moves to the center of the cluster of trees, gazing around.

Wei Wuxian just looks at him, the tall, straight figure of him, the slim line of the blue robes making him look just a step off from what Wei Wuxian has come to expect. "I like these robes," he says. "Don't get me wrong, I like the fancy Chief Cultivator ones, too, but you look..." Easier, maybe, Wei Wuxian thinks. Less like he's the boss, more like he's just...Lan Zhan. "I don't know. You look good like this."

Lan Zhan's watching him. His eyes look dark, and his cheeks are a little red, from the chilly breeze that sweeps across them. "You don't like the Chief Cultivator robes?" he asks.

"That's the opposite of what I said." Wei Wuxian moves closer. The way the sash wraps around Lan Zhan's waist makes it look like Wei Wuxian could span it with his hands, just wrap them around Lan Zhan and hold him there. "I just like you in blue." Is that what he meant to say? He doesn't think he meant to say that.

Lan Zhan's gaze flickers just a bit and he reaches out to take the trailing end of Wei Wuxian's hair ribbon in his fingers. He tugs on it, just a little. "Do you get tired of it?" he asks. "Me being Chief Cultivator?"

"What? No, of course not. You should be in charge. You should always be in charge. You're very good at it." Wei Wuxian can feel his pulse jumping in his neck. Lan Zhan's still holding onto his hair ribbon. He's got it curled around his fingers now, and when he tugs it again, Wei Wuxian makes a quiet sound in his throat.

"I get tired of it." Lan Zhan says it matter-of-factly.

"You do?" Wei Wuxian hears himself, how strangled he sounds. His heart is beating very fast, it feels like. Does his heart always beat this fast? "You don't like it?"

"Politics?" Lan Zhan says. He gives the hair ribbon another tug. Wei Wuxian stumbles forward, just a step. "Meetings? Arguing with low-level cultivators with ridiculous opinions?"

Wei Wuxian is close enough to him now to see the way Lan Zhan's breath is coming fast, his chest rising and falling with it.

Lan Zhan gives the hair ribbon one more tug. "Yes," he says fiercely. "I very much get tired of it." Then his other hand lands on Wei Wuxian's hip and Wei Wuxian stumbles forward another step, pulled into the orbit of Lan Zhan's intensity, and then impossibly, inexorably, Lan Zhan's kissing him. Or Wei Wuxian is kissing Lan Zhan. He's honestly not sure who did it, who closed that gap between them, just that it happened, and now that they're here, it feels impossible that they've not always been doing this. He needs this like he needs air to breathe, he needs Lan Zhan's hands on him, holding him close, as they kiss with single-minded intensity.

"Wait," he gasps against Lan Zhan's lips, even though that's the opposite of what he wants to do. "We're supposed to—we need to—wait—"

"No," Lan Zhan says fiercely, and drags him into another kiss.

And oh, Wei Wuxian was right, he was so right, Lan Zhan should always be in charge, should always be the one to make the important decisions. Wei Wuxian is melting against him, his whole body lit up. Lan Zhan's lips are soft and hot, and when Wei Wuxian moans against them, Lan Zhan takes the opportunity and slips his tongue inside. And now Wei Wuxian is really trembling, on fire with it. Is this what kissing is? Is this what real kissing is? Is this what kissing Lan Zhan is like, would always have been like, from the very start? If he had let Lan Zhan push him back against the desk in the library, when they were just sixteen and Wei Wuxian hadn't known what to do with all of the ways he wanted Lan Zhan's attention—if that had happened, is this what those kisses would have been like?

How had he lived without this for two lifetimes?

"Please," he's saying now, against Lan Zhan's lips, because Lan Zhan won't let him go, not even for a second, he's kissing him like he's hungry, kissing him like he's starving. "Please," he's saying, and he's got his hands on Lan Zhan's waist, he's hauling him close, needing him, needing more. "Please," he says again, and when Lan Zhan makes a sound almost like a growl against his lips, his knees go truly weak.

He stumbles backwards, not letting go of Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan follows him. The two of them tumble to the ground, the wintery grass rough underneath them. Lan Zhan's on top of him, heedless of the dirt, heedless of propriety, kissing him intently and pressing him down with his whole body.

They're tangled together, and oh, they're doing more than kissing. They're up against each other and Wei Wuxian feels dizzy with it, with the rocking of Lan Zhan's body against his, with the sounds Lan Zhan's making, that they're both making: desperate, hungry sounds. Wei Wuxian's knees are up around Lan Zhan's hips, and Lan Zhan's kissing his way down Wei Wuxian's neck, panting against his skin, pressing his lips to the crux of his shoulder. When he sucks at that spot, Wei Wuxian whines, high and tight, his hips moving up, and up, against Lan Zhan.

His hands are caught tight in Lan Zhan's robes, and he's scrabbling at them—he wants to touch skin, he wants to feel Lan Zhan, he wants—

Lan Zhan pulls his mouth away from Wei Wuxian's neck, and Wei Wuxian can't help the soft, needy sound he makes at that. Lan Zhan looks down at him, his breath coming fast, his lips wet and red with kissing. "Wei Ying," he says, his voice achingly soft. He takes a deep breath and kisses Wei Ying once more, a softer kiss than the ones that had come before, but no less intense. "We must stop."

Wei Wuxian's brain can't comprehend the words, his whole body aching for Lan Zhan. He wants—he just wants—

"Come here." Lan Zhan is moving back, off of Wei Wuxian, and the air feels freezing again against Wei Wuxian's overheated skin. "Come here," Lan Zhan says again, not moving far, reaching out his hand to pull Wei Wuxian to his feet. "We have to—"

Lan Zhan looks disheveled, his robes twisted around him, the slim cut of them doing nothing to hide the fact that he's just as aroused as Wei Wuxian is. His hair is, of course, nearly perfect, just a little tousled, but his mouth looks so red, so...used, that to Wei Wuxian, it seems nearly obscene. His hand is still wrapped around Wei Wuxian's and he tugs him up the slope of the path, Wei Wuxian's brain still trying to start working again, to the edge of the circle of trees.

A gust of chilly wind races through the garden, sudden and fierce, feeling like it's chasing the air right out of Wei Wuxian's lungs. He can't catch his breath for a moment. He's looking at Lan Zhan, and then he can suddenly think straight. He's still hard, his robes doing a somewhat better job of hiding it, but he can look at Lan Zhan without jumping on him, at least. "What was that?"

Nothing that happened in the copse of trees felt like force, nothing about it felt like being coerced, but it was more like...nearly like being drunk, like everything had fallen away and all he could do, all they could do, was—

"Uncertain," Lan Zhan says. He's fixed his robes and is standing tall and straight. To look at him, you'd never know they had just been...doing what they had been doing. "We should—"

"Hanguang-jun?" they hear, from somewhere close by.

It's Sizhui. They look at each other. Wei Wuxian fixes the collar of his robe and presses his fingers over the spot where Lan Zhan's mouth had been, making sure it's hidden, and follows Lan Zhan back to the garden proper.

"We found evidence of deep threads of some sort of energy that we're still working to identify," Sizhui reports. They've retreated to the room the boys are sharing, where the kids had stand solemnly in a row in front of them until Wei Wuxian says to Lan Zhan, "Oh my god, will you please let them sit, this is freaking me out, they're too proper."

Lan Zhan nods at the boys, and they all look at each other, then move, some of them tentatively perching at the foot of their beds. Wei Wuxian notices Jingyi tugging Sizhui to sit with him on a broad windowsill, the two of them crowded together and seeming not to notice or care about the complete lack of personal space.

Wei Wuxian settles back against one of the beds, falling back to prop himself up on his elbows as Lan Zhan sits neatly beside him.

"We used the detection talisman," Sizhui continues now. "It recognizes something but it's not showing us what, exactly. We did find out that there have been unusual occurrences in that garden area, and have been for many years."

"Not just the garden," Jingyi chimes in. "The other places, too."

"Right." Sizhui looks at Lan Zhan. "I sent out a team to try the detection talisman at the other spots we found." He sounds slightly tentative, like he thinks he should have asked Lan Zhan first. Wei Wuxian is...really glad he hadn't come hunting Lan Zhan to ask for permission.

Lan Zhan inclines his head. "The correct approach."

Sizhui looks a little relieved, his mouth losing the tension. He ignores the elbow Jingyi presses against his side, but Wei Wuxian clocks it, as well as the smug, proud look on Jingyi's face. "It was the same sort of unidentifiable, but clearly related, energy."

"And the same thing about weird stuff happening at all the spots," Jingyi says. "The tailor's shop, with the haunted changing room—"

"Not haunted," one of the other kids says. "Not exactly."

"—it was haunted," Jingyi says firmly, and continues, ticking the places off on his fingers. "The weapon maker's place, where it smelled like blood. And that one lady's house, where it felt like something was standing right behind you the whole time, but nothing was ever there."

Sizhui waits for Jingyi to complete his list. He's got a small smile on his face, gazing at Jingyi as he speaks. It's incredibly cute. Wei Wuxian doesn't know how Lan Zhan has missed it; they like each other so much. "Right," Sizhui says, clearing his throat a little and looking back at Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian. "They all had the unidentifiable energy, and they all had a long-time series of odd events. And." He glances over at Jingyi. "So the energy seems to be feeding into, not out of, the thing. Like. There's some pull of energy throughout the town. We think maybe the tear is just that: a tear, like the pockets of energy are pulling too hard in different directions and—"

"And created a tear in the world?" Wei Wuxian glances at Lan Zhan. "I don't love that that is just a thing that can happen." It's wildly unsettling.

Lan Zhan nods, but doesn't say anything. Wei Wuxian watches Sizhui, who seems to be waiting expectantly, but then gives a small nod himself, and continues. "We're going to work on the timeline of the odd events and try to find a pattern to that, as well. One thing that's immediately clear: everyone we spoke to at these locations were people who are unconcerned by the phenomenon, of the belief it has always been there."

"Other than that lady at the tea house," one of the other kids offers. "The weird one. She knew about it and she knew it was weird."

"Right," Sizhui says slowly. "She did say that. That she's been here a long time and that we shouldn't—what was it?"

"Mess with things we don't understand," Jingyi chimes in promptly.

Sizhui nods. "But she seemed distracted, and confused, as well," he says. "The whole conversation, she seemed...uncertain."

"And she still let us in to look around," Jingyi says. "Would she do that if she was hiding something?"

"Maybe." Wei Wuxian says, pushing himself up to sitting again. He brushes against Lan Zhan's shoulder as he does so, and he can feel his pulse beating in the spot on his neck where Lan Zhan's mouth had been. He has to make an effort to not reach up and press his fingers against it. "Either way, there's definitely a connection there."

"I think so, as well." Lan Zhan gives Sizhui a small nod of approval.

"Right." Sizhui gets up; Jingyi immediately gets up as well, the two of them moving in unison. "We'll report on our findings."

Wei Wuxian watches as he directs the boys, getting them into teams, assigning them tasks. "I guess you are right," he murmurs to Lan Zhan. "They're not kids anymore."

"They are not." Lan Zhan's watching them as well, and he looks soft, like this, his mouth not as stern as it was when he'd received Sizhui's report, his gaze flickering over the various teams, like he's approving of how Sizhui is approaching this.

"You raised him right." Wei Wuxian can't stop looking at Lan Zhan. "He's so much like you."

Lan Zhan drops his gaze to Wei Wuxian. "He is also," he says, "very much like you."

Wei Wuxian's not sure how much he believes that, but his stomach gets warm hearing it. "He's far less annoying than me," he says, waving off Lan Zhan's words, but he can't stop the grin that's tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"True," Lan Zhan murmurs.

Wei Wuxian lets his mouth drop open. "Hanguang-jun! How dare you?"

Lan Zhan raises one eyebrow. "I was merely agreeing with you."

Wei Wuxian lets himself topple back on the bed, grinning up at the ceiling. "You," he says, "are so not as nice as everyone thinks you are."

"Very few people think I'm nice," Lan Zhan says smoothly, rising from the bed. "Come, let's assist in the investigation."

Wei Wuxian sighs and pushes himself up. "On it," he says.

The rest of the day goes by quickly—Wei Wuxian had forgotten how the hours slip by when you're deep in investigation mode. There is some pattern to the odd occurrences, and when cross-referenced with who can and cannot discern the phenomenon, and those who are unconcerned by it, there's something there.

"We'll get it," Wei Wuxian mutters around the dumpling he's just shoved in his mouth at dinnertime. He's brought down a sheaf of papers to the dining room, too intent on how close he feels like they are to figuring it out to stop to eat. "It's there, you can see it, right, Sizhui? Or feel it. There's something we're missing, but I feel like it's here if we can just..."

He flips through the stack, absentmindedly using his sleeve to blot up the sauce he drips on it as he grabs another dumpling.

Sizhui, of course, does not respond, because of the no-talking rule, but when Wei Wuxian glances up at him, his brow is creased and he's staring down at his teacup like the solution rests in the swirl of tea right there.

"We'll get it," Wei Wuxian declares again, stacking the papers together and turning them over resolutely. His brain needs to gnaw at it on its own for a while. "Finish your food," he says to the group at large, all of whom are...oh, pretty much done. He guesses he's been eating more slowly since he'd been distracted by the reports. "Big day tomorrow, so get some sleep, dream of solutions, and we'll tackle it in the morning." He swings his legs over the bench and gets up. "I'm going to get some well-deserved alcohol, and—"

A server is hurrying over, two bottles clutched in his hands, bowing deeply at Lan Zhan as he hands him the bottles. "As you requested, honored sir."

Wei Wuxian blinks. "Lan Zhan, you—"

Lan Zhan rises as well, handing the server some money from his pouch. He turns, handing the bottles to Wei Wuxian. "We'll meet down here in the morning," he says to the boys, ignoring Wei Wuxian's sounds of protest.

He tilts his head at Wei Wuxian, who clutches the bottles to his chest, then follows behind as Lan Zhan exits to a murmured chorus of, "Yes, Hanguang-jun," the boys all scrambling to get up and bow as the two of them leave.

"I was going to get my own liquor," Wei Wuxian says when they get up to the room. "You didn't have to do that for me. You're Chief Cultivator. You have too much going on to have to be thinking about stuff like this."

Lan Zhan ignores him, gazing out the window. Wei Wuxian moves up beside him, depositing one bottle of liquor on the table and wiggling the cork out of the other one. He takes a sip, and looks out at where the moon is very large, very bright, looking like it's close enough to touch, if you just reached up high enough. "Hey," he says, nudging Lan Zhan with his shoulder.

"Let's sit outside," Lan Zhan says abruptly.

"Wait, what?" Wei Wuxian says, but Lan Zhan is already disappearing over the windowsill, out onto the rooftop, like it's an absolutely normal thing to do. "Where are you— wait, hang on, I'm—"

Wei Wuxian clambers out after him, dropping down to the roof tiles next to where Lan Zhan has seated himself neatly. Lan Zhan's hands are resting on his knees and he's still looking up at the moon. It's a chilly night, the air crisp and cool against Wei Wuxian's cheeks. "What are we doing out here, Lan Zhan?" He can't stop looking at the curve of Lan Zhan's cheek, the cut of his jaw.

"Sitting," Lan Zhan says. He brings his gaze down to Wei Wuxian. "Drinking." He nods at the bottle in Wei Wuxian's hand and, oh, his look is intense—his eyes are dark, looking at Wei Wuxian in the moonlight that is so bright it feels like it's lighting them up.

Wei Wuxian takes a careful sip out of the bottle. His heart feels like it's clattering in his chest. "So we'll sit," he says, not able to keep his mouth shut. "We'll sit, and I'll drink, and we'll...be here. Together. On the roof." Lan Zhan is quite close beside him, his blue robes draped neatly around him. He looks relaxed like this, even though he's still put together, his headpiece capturing the glow of the moon as he shifts against the roof tiles.

"We'll be here," Lan Zhan echoes, as Wei Wuxian takes another sip from the bottle. He can feel Lan Zhan's eyes on him, watches as Lan Zhan gaze traces down his throat as he swallows. "Can I have a taste?"

Wei Wuxian thinks his heart is beating so loudly in his chest that he must have misheard. "What?" he says dumbly, clutching at the bottle in his suddenly sweaty hands.

"A taste," Lan Zhan says again, and leans in. Wei Wuxian starts to hand him the bottle, but Lan Zhan pushes it aside, one hand coming up to Wei Wuxian's head as he kisses him. It's long, and deep, and when Wei Wuxian takes a startled breath, Lan Zhan again takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue into his mouth, and Wei Wuxian is never, ever going to get over the feeling of it. The intimacy of it, how Lan Zhan kissing him like this—filthy, hot, deep—makes him feel like he belongs to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan bears him backwards, and Wei Wuxian can only whimper a little bit against his mouth, ready to spread his legs, to do anything Lan Zhan wants to do here on this roof, if only—

Lan Zhan draws back, the slightest amount, his breath coming fast, warm against Wei Wuxian's lips. He's looking at Wei Wuxian, his eyes studying him, and Wei Wuxian's not sure if it's the look or the kiss that's taken his breath away.

"Let's go inside," Wei Wuxian says. His mouth is three steps ahead of him, as per usual, but it's for the best, since his body is primed to let Lan Zhan fuck him here on the roof if that's what Lan Zhan wants to do. "Let's just—"

Lan Zhan is reaching for him, his hand sliding down Wei Wuxian's side, and Wei Wuxian catches hold of it, gently pushing it away from him. "Don't," he says, breathing hard, his heart beating in his throat. He thinks if he lets Lan Zhan touch him, even once more, he won't be able to stop it, won't be able to stop himself from— "Not here," he says, and it comes out like he's begging.

Lan Zhan's eyes go dark, flickering over Wei Wuxian's face, like he knows. Like he knows that if he did that, if he took hold of Wei Wuxian and hauled him close, Wei Wuxian would let it happen, let himself be taken right here against the slippery roof tiles. "Inside," he says, and it's not a suggestion.

It feels like a fever dream, Lan Zhan rising to his feet, pulling Wei Wuxian up after him, urging him back to the window. He pushes Wei Wuxian ahead of him, not letting his touch linger until they're both back over the windowsill, the glow of the moon casting fingers of light throughout the room even after Lan Zhan has closed the shutters. The light captures Lan Zhan in milky rays, a line of it over his face, as he reaches out and puts his hands on Wei Wuxian's hips.

"Fuck," Wei Wuxian breathes, his whole body feeling like it's throbbing at the touch. "Are we—" He has to stop, and swallow, and even after that, he can't quite get the words out. "Lan Zhan, are we—"

Lan Zhan is closer still, reaching to nudge aside the collar of Wei Wuxian's robes, his eyes fast on the spot where Wei Wuxian knows there's a mark from this afternoon in the garden: a bruise the size and shape of Lan Zhan's mouth, dark against Wei Wuxian's skin. Wei Wuxian wonders, his heart pounding, if the mark is caught in a sliver of moonlight, the way Lan Zhan's face had been.

Lan Zhan ducks his head to study it. No. Not just study it. He fastens his mouth there again, tracing it with his tongue, as his hands draw Wei Wuxian impossibly closer. "Fuck," Wei Wuxian says again, weakly, his hands on Lan Zhan's shoulders, Lan Zhan up against him and he's hard. Wei Wuxian can feel it. Lan Zhan is letting him feel it, letting him feel how hard he is.

Wei Wuxian can't catch his breath. He's panting, his head tilted up to the ceiling, as Lan Zhan finishes his taste of Wei Wuxian's skin. When Lan Zhan raises his head, he's breathing hard too, and his lips are wet. "Wei Ying," he says, and that's it, Wei Wuxian is lost to this.

"Lan Zhan," he mutters, as he works his hands in between them, fumbling at the sash cinching Lan Zhan's waist. "Lan Zhan, please, let me, I need—" He's unwinding the complicated sash, working at it until it finally falls, Lan Zhan's robes going loose around him. "I want to see, I—"

He pushes Lan Zhan back a step. Lan Zhan looks ethereal in the loose robes, the moonlight edging around the shutters, lighting him up from behind. He stands there for a moment, letting Wei Wuxian look, allowing it, and the way he's looking back at Wei Wuxian is more than Wei Wuxian can bear.

"This is the problem," Wei Wuxian whispers, and he's honestly not sure if he's talking to Lan Zhan or to himself. "I want whatever you'll give to me."

"That," Lan Zhan says, moving forward, "is not a problem." He's standing a breath away.

"It is," Wei Wuxian says desperately. "It is, because it's not just that. I want more, and—"

"I'll give you more." Lan Zhan's lips are on Wei Wuxian's then, a different kiss than before, softer, dragging him into it.

"It's too much," Wei Wuxian says, but he's not sure Lan Zhan can hear him. He's too busy pushing Wei Wuxian back onto the bed, tumbling him onto it as he shrugs out of his robes, letting them fall to the ground. "It's always too much, I want too much, I can't—"

"I'll give it to you," Lan Zhan says, as he climbs on top of Wei Wuxian, pressing him against the bed. "I'll give you all of it." He's kissing him, hard, intense, and Wei Wuxian can't help the way his body bows up off the bed into it, wanting more, more. "I'll give you everything."

"You can't," Wei Wuxian tries to say, but Lan Zhan swallows the words for him. He's pushing Wei Wuxian's robes aside, undoing them with swift movements, his hands touching every piece of skin he exposes. Lan Zhan's hands don't feel cool any longer—they're hot, as he runs them up Wei Wuxian's side, scorching as he pushes Wei Wuxian's trousers down his hips.

Wei Wuxian's body is betraying him, not allowing him to push Lan Zhan away, to establish what has always seemed like an important boundary. Instead, his knees are coming up around Lan Zhan's hips, the way they had in the garden. He's pushing Lan Zhan's own trousers down, desperate to touch him, to feel him. Lan Zhan is kissing him, wet and messy and breathless, and oh, Wei Wuxian is lost, he's so lost in this.

When Lan Zhan presses up against him, all bare skin and desperation, the sound Wei Wuxian makes is too loud, but he can't help it, there isn't one single thing he can do about it. Lan Zhan presses his hips closer, sliding himself against Wei Wuxian where he's so, so hard, and Wei Wuxian thinks, dizzily, that he might die here like this, again, caught up in Lan Zhan's embrace, in the heady rush of his hips moving, his desperate breath against his ear. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan is saying, as he thrusts against him. "Wei Ying," he says again, his voice breaking.

"Please." Wei Wuxian can't bite it back. "Please, I want—" He wants everything. He wants it all.

Lan Zhan rolls them over, dragging Wei Wuxian on top of him, his hands strong and sure against him. It's too much, like this, Wei Wuxian pressed against him with his full body, Lan Zhan's hands tight against his hips as he drags him down, like he's trying to get closer, closer. Fuck, Wei Wuxian would crawl inside of him if he could.

Lan Zhan's head is thrown back as he moves against Wei Wuxian, his fingers digging into his hips. He's so beautiful he hurts to look at, and Wei Wuxian presses his face against his throat as Lan Zhan keeps moving, his body tight as a bowstring. They're both making too much noise, Lan Zhan's breath coming out in desperate moans, sounds Wei Wuxian had never thought he'd ever hear from him, broken and necessary. Lan Zhan is shaking underneath him, his movements becoming faster, harder.

"I—" Wei Wuxian can't stop himself. "I'm—Lan Zhan, you can't, you—" Wei Wuxian can't stop it, can't hold back, the desperate thrusting of Lan Zhan underneath him feel too good, it's too much, he— "Please, oh, please, don't stop, I want—" He wants so much. "I want—" He can't, he can't do this, but oh, he's going to, there isn't any way to stop the wave that hits him with the next movement, Lan Zhan wrenching him closer still as Wei Wuxian cries out and comes, shaking through it as he loses himself.

He's not finished, still shaking, when Lan Zhan growls and flips them over, pressing Wei Wuxian against the bed, his mouth against Wei Wuxian's shoulder as he fucks against him again, and again, until he shudders hard and there's a rush of wet heat against Wei Wuxian's hip.

It takes what feels like a long time for either of them to come back to themselves. Lan Zhan's face is still tucked against Wei Wuxian's shoulder. It takes some time before his hands loosen from where they'd been dug in against Wei Wuxian's hips.

Wei Wuxian himself is still breathing in trembling gasps. His body won't stop shaking. His head is buzzing, and he can't feel his hands, and his throat hurts with how loud he has been. He's underneath Lan Zhan still, everything wet and messy between them, and he can't stop the sound he makes when Lan Zhan moves a little to one side, sliding off of Wei Wuxian. "Don't—" he says, before clamping his mouth shut, but he's not sure Lan Zhan even heard him. Lan Zhan is too busy tucking him close, his arm across Wei Wuxian's waist, dragging him right up against him.

They lie there in quiet stillness for a bit, Wei Wuxian slowly getting his breath back under control. Lan Zhan's on his side, pressed close against Wei Wuxian. He seems completely comfortable with his nudity, with how his soft cock presses against Wei Wuxian's hip, with how his hand is moving proprietarily across Wei Wuxian's chest.

"Tell me," Lan Zhan says finally, his voice soft in the dark room.

Wei Wuxian stares up at the ceiling. "Lan Zhan," he says. "I don't—"

"Tell me." Lan Zhan says it again, calm and certain. "You left. You left, and you didn't come back." He moves, then, curling closer. "Why?"

Wei Wuxian sighs and shifts as well, turning to face Lan Zhan. Something about this, the two of them curled up next to each other, faces close in the quiet darkness, makes it feel like he can be nothing but honest, the words spilling out of him like kids telling nighttime secrets at a sleepover.

"I couldn't stay," he says softly. "I couldn't look at you every day, and not get to have more." It hurts less coming out than he'd thought it would.

"You can have more." Lan Zhan's voice is steady and sure, his eyes lost in shadow. "You could always have had more."

Wei Wuxian shakes his head against the pillow. "You don't know," he says. "You don't know how much I want." He's not sure he'd even known, himself, when he'd left Cloud Recesses. He'd only known that he'd wanted something with an ache so deep that he'd had to go, had to keep moving, so he wouldn't try to take it all. He'd known, even then, that he'd wanted Lan Zhan like he'd never wanted anything before. If he'd been honest with himself, he'd have been able to admit that he'd fallen in love with Lan Zhan when he was sixteen years old and had never been able to claw his way back out.

But if there was one thing he'd learned in multiple stints in the Burial Mounds, it's that you don't always get what you want. Largely, it's not even an option.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan pushes himself up on his elbow, looking down at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian wants to hide his face against the pillow, pull the sheets up over himself. "Wei Ying, look at me."

Lan Zhan is caught in moonlight. His face looks...broken open. This isn't a Lan Zhan Wei Wuxian has ever seen before. He's got the same beautiful line to his jaw, the same determined look in his eyes: the way Wei Wuxian has seen him look in meetings, in battle. But here, he's open to Wei Wuxian in a way he's never known. Here in the moonlit room, he looks younger, he looks like the sixteen year old Lan Zhan Wei Wuxian had tumbled into love with.

"We can't—" Wei Wuxian starts to say.

"We can," Lan Zhan interrupts firmly.

Wei Wuxian stares at him. "You can't do that," he says. "You can't interrupt. Allow others the freedom to complete their thoughts. It's right there in the rules. It's carved on the wall."

Lan Zhan shakes his head. "I don't care."

Wei Wuxian sits up, pushing his hair out of his face. "You always care about rules."

Lan Zhan shakes his head again. "Not always."

Wei Wuxian stares at him some more. "Even if we can," he says, finally, "I can't just...go back to Cloud Recesses with you."

"You can," Lan Zhan says, "but you don't have to."

Wei Wuxian has literally no idea what's going on. "I—"

"We can do it differently," Lan Zhan says in a rush. "I've served my sect for a long time. It's time for a change. And anyway," he adds, "I'm not good at being Chief Cultivator."

Wei Wuxian feels his mouth drop open. "Of course you are!" he says. "You're good at everything."

"Not politics." Lan Zhan says it with what sounds like a rueful tone, and he's...telling the truth, Wei Wuxian thinks.

"What would you do?" That's all Wei Wuxian can say. His whole life, Lan Zhan has been tangled up in service to his family. What is he without that?

"What will you do?" Lan Zhan asks.

"Why, are you looking for ideas?" Wei Wuxian shoots back. His brain hurts. What are they doing?

"Yes." Lan Zhan sits in front of him, naked, exposed. His hair is sex-messy, his mouth looking swollen with kisses. He's beautiful, and he's vulnerable, and he's watching Wei Wuxian. Waiting for him.

"You'd come with me." Wei Wuxian says it carefully. He lines the words up before they come out. It feels maybe brave to say it right out. Maybe crazy. He should take them back, that can't be what Lan Zhan meant, he'd meant something else entirely, and now he's—

"Yes." Lan Zhan says it again, steadily. He's still got his eyes on Wei Wuxian.

"Okay, but you can't—" Wei Wuxian starts.

"I can," Lan Zhan breaks in.

"You won't be able to—"

"I will." Lan Zhan says it so calmly. He says it like it's a fact, like it's a sure thing. "I'm going to." He reaches out one hand, a little awkwardly, wrapping his fingers around Wei Wuxian's wrist. "I'm going to do it," he says, "with or without you."

Something about that lands firmly in Wei Wuxian's heart, feeling like the gong of a bell. "You'd leave," he says. His voice comes out raspy.

"I'm done with it," Lan Zhan says. He sounds thoughtful, like it's something that's only really now occurring to him. "I think I've been done with it for a while."

"Yeah, but who could—"

"My brother." Lan Zhan cuts him off again—again.

"You're breaking rules left and right tonight, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, laughing a little. He feels like he's shaking. Is he shaking? He looks down at his wrist, caught in Lan Zhan's grasp. He flips his hand over, sliding his hand down until his fingers are curled around Lan Zhan's. "Would he do it?" he asks, staring down at their clasped hands.

Lan Zhan pauses for a moment before answering. "He would." He still has that thoughtful tone, like he's only just realizing the truth of that, as well. "I think...I think it would be good for him. He's spent too long on self-reflection."

That's another rule broken, Wei Wuxian thinks. Self-reflection is a basic tenet of the Lan Sect. He takes a breath, but he can't get enough air in his lungs. The word he's lining up in his head feels bold, reckless, revealing. "When?" he manages, finally, the word coming out softer than he'd intended.

"Now." Lan Zhan's fingers curl tightly around Wei Wuxian's. "I'd do it now, this moment, I'd—"

Lan Zhan looks reckless, determined, his eyes fierce, and Wei Wuxian can't stop the grin that spreads across his face, even as he has to blink his eyes to push back the tears that are threatening to fall. "You can't quit now," he says, holding onto Lan Zhan's hand so tight his fingers hurt. He wraps his other hand around it, holding Lan Zhan firmly, so he can't get away. "We have a mystery to solve."

Lan Zhan opens his mouth determinedly, then shuts it again. "Right after we figure out the phenomenon, then," he says, straightening his back and shaking his hair back, his mouth taking on the firm expression that just radiates Hanguang-jun, even though he's still sitting naked in bed.

Wei Wuxian grins so hard he feels like he might crack apart. "Right after," he says, like a promise.

"Good." Lan Zhan tugs on his hand, pulling him closer, even though they're already so close their legs are tangled together. "Good," he says again, but it comes out muffled against Wei Wuxian's lips, and then they don't have any need to use words for a long, long time.

"We figured it out!" Jingyi elbows himself to the front of the crowd of juniors when Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian emerge from the inn the following morning, a little later than planned. Wei Wuxian is still tying his hair up in his topknot, feeling flushed, while Lan Zhan, of course, looks perfect, calm and collected, if you ignore the hint of a bruise peeking out from the collar of his robes.

"We think we may have discovered a pattern," Sizhui corrects, moving forward as well and giving them both a proper bow, Jingyi belatedly bowing half a beat behind him.

"It's all tied together!" Jingyi bounces up from his bow. "We were talking about it last night after bed—we couldn't sleep, it was too interesting, we just talked it out until we got it. Well. Sizhui got it."

"I wouldn't have figured it out if it wasn't for you," Sizhui murmurs and Jingyi's face splits in a grin.

Wei Wuxian watches as Jingyi presses his shoulder against Sizhui's for a moment, his hands tucked behind him. Both of them are flushed with excitement. "You see?" he murmurs to Lan Zhan, who ignores him.

Sizhui clears his throat, standing up a little bit straighter. "Jingyi's correct," he says. "It's all connected, we think." He glances at Jingyi from the corner of his eye. "It's like the other pockets of energy are bleeding out," Sizhui says. "Feeding the tear. Sort of."

"Not exactly." Jingyi bounces on his toes a little bit. "But definitely something like that. That thing you invented, that compass thing—"

"Compass of Evil," Lan Zhan murmurs. He shifts his weight a little next to Wei Wuxian and his shoulder brushes up against him. Just that small touch is enough to send a shudder down Wei Wuxian's spine. He bites the inside of his cheek and makes a valiant effort to focus on what the kids are saying.

"Yeah, that," Jingyi says. "Only Sizhui's been working on it, and he's figured out how to make it detect more than just evil spirits."

"Wait, you did what?" Wei Wuxian demands.

Sizhui flushes harder. "I was just curious," he says. "I wanted to see if the detection spell could be used for other things."

"And it can." Jingyi is beaming at Sizhui proudly. "He messed with it until it worked."

"I, uh, just made some adjustments." Sizhui looks at Wei Wuxian, then quickly moves his gaze to the middle distance while he finishes his report. "We got up early and did another check of those various pockets of unusual energy, and compared it to the energy that's coming from the tear."

"It's just pouring out of it," Jingyi breaks in. "Like, we never really thought to test it because, you know, giant tear in space, of course it's got an energy signature."

Sizhui nods several times in a row. "It was Jingyi's idea," he says, "to test it and compare it."

"And it's super weird," Jingyi says. "Super old, and not entirely stable."

Wei Wuxian's still staring at Sizhui. "Show me," he demands.

Sizhui blushes harder and fumbles the device out of his sleeve. It's definitely the design of Wei Wuxian's Compass of Evil, but when he flips it open and studies it, he can see where Sizhui has nudged things a bit, imbued it with a different goal. "It's a neat bit of work," he says, handing it to Lan Zhan. He watches Lan Zhan study it, and gets caught, for a moment, in how beautiful Lan Zhan's face is in the morning sunshine. Do his lips still look red from last night, from how he kissed Wei Wuxian until he could hardly breathe, until he could barely think? Wei Wuxian thinks that maybe they do.

Lan Zhan hands the compass back to Sizhui with a nod of approval. If the kid blushes any harder, Wei Wuxian thinks, he's going to spontaneously combust.

"So look." Jingyi says, grabbing Sizhui's hand and dragging him forward, gesturing at everyone to follow them. He heads down the street, until they're near the phenomenon. "We already shut down one of the energy pockets, the haunted changing stall."

"Not haunted," one of the other juniors says. "Just...real weird."

"We shut down the haunted changing stall," Jingyi says again, more loudly. "It took all of us, but we bled the energy off and dispersed it. And look." He gestures at the hole.

Wei Wuxian whistles, long and low. It's still there, it's still disturbing, and it's still doing the thing where Wei Wuxian feels so uncomfortable looking at it that his eyes want to slide away from it, but— "It's reduced in size," he says.

"And it's pulsing less...upsettingly," Jingyi points out.

"Can you still not feel it?" Wei Wuxian asks Lan Zhan quietly. "How weird and not right it is? Did that part change at all?"

Lan Zhan shakes his head, but he's not looking at the hole. He's got his eyes on Wei Wuxian and for just a moment, it's the same hot, dark look he got on the roof right before he'd licked the alcohol right out of his mouth. Wei Wuxian gets warm all over and he can't stop looking back, caught in Lan Zhan's gaze, where Lan Zhan is clearly thinking about—

"So next," Sizhui says and oh, right, the kids are explaining something. Wei Wuxian swallows and manages to look away. "We figured the garden would be the easiest to shut down. We were going to head there now." He looks at Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian expectedly.

Lan Zhan nods his head at Sizhui. "Lead the way."

The garden is as quiet as it had been the day before—quieter, even, as it's early enough that the tea house has not yet opened. The morning is crisp and cool and dew is still scattered over the grass, glinting in the weak winter sunlight.

"So we were just going to do what we did with the haunted—" JIngyi shoots a warning look at the other junior, who just shrugs. "—changing room, and, uh—"

Sizhui gives instructions to the juniors, gesturing around the area, and they scatter out across the garden area.

"Should we help?" Wei Wuxian asks Lan Zhan. "Though they really do seem to be doing fine without us."

"Let's see how they do." Lan Zhan is very close beside Wei Wuxian. He's watching the juniors at work, but in the next moment, his hand curls around Wei Wuxian's hip. His fingers land right where there are a series of finger-shaped bruises, from where Lan Zhan had held on last night, dragging Wei Wuxian close, his hands gripping him as he had—

"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian's voice comes out choked. He is not going to get hard in the middle of an investigation. He refuses. They're adults. He's—

Lan Zhan's hand presses down more firmly. It sends an ache through Wei Wuxian, his body mixing up the pain with pleasure. He is only one man, one very weak man, because he tangles his hand around Lan Zhan's and tugs at it, dragging him—not towards what he's started thinking about as the sex grove, because god knows that energy doesn't need more feeding—but towards the tea house proper. He finds a spot against the wall, set back from everything, where he can drag Lan Zhan in—not that Lan Zhan is protesting—and wrap his arms around his neck. "Kiss me," he says, his heart beating in the rhythm of his need. "Please, I—"

Lan Zhan kisses him, pressing him back against the wall, and Wei Wuxian can't help the broken sound that he makes. From this angle, when Lan Zhan takes his hip in his hand, his fingers meet the very spots of dark purple bruising that Wei Wuxan had seen this morning as he'd gotten dressed. The pleasure-pain of it is more precise, and oh, Wei Wuxian is definitely getting hard in the middle of an investigation.

"We should, ah." Wei Wuxian shudders as Lan Zhan kisses his way down his neck. "We should go...assist." Lan Zhan digs his teeth in, just a little, and Wei Wuxian's body presses forward, his breath coming out in a rush. "Or at least—fuck, oh fuck, that's—" Wei Wuxian has to drop his head against Lan Zhan's shoulder, breathe in and out a few times, before he's able to form words again. "We should at least observe. Make sure they're doing things right. We should..."

He can't talk anymore, can't speak, not with Lan Zhan up against him like this.

"They're fine," Lan Zhan says, against the sensitive skin of Wei Wuxian's throat. "They're not children anymore."

"Right," Wei Wuxian says it on a moan, too loud probably, but who would blame him, with Lan Zhan's hips nudging against his own, making it clear that Wei Wuxian is not the only one with an inappropriate erection. "Right, they're—"

"Finished!" The call comes from not too far away and Lan Zhan steps back, his face looking regretful as he lets his eyes trace over Wei Wuxian, who he has...thoroughly taken apart. Wei Wuxian is limp against the wall of the tea house, his pulse pounding in his throat.

It takes him a moment to pull himself together and follow Lan Zhan back to where the juniors are gathered, looking pleased with themselves.

"...several pockets of energy here," he hears one of the kids say. Wei Wuxian pushes his hair out of his face and tugs the collar of his robes higher up, hoping he's doing an adequate job of hiding the mark—possibly more than one mark, at this point—that Lan Zhan has sucked into his neck.

"But we got through them all." Sizhui is studying the compass in his hand, his brow a little furrowed. "There's no trace of more, not here."

"We should check the hole," one of the kids calls out, "Make sure this dispersal of energy had the same effect."

Sizhui nods, gesturing at several of the disciples. "You four," he says. "Head out, we'll meet you at the next energy pocket."

The kids bow and hurry out.

It's pretty cute, seeing Sizhui give orders. He really has grown up. "Where did you disperse the energy to?" Wei Wuxian shakes out his robes, making sure they're hiding...everything they need to be hiding. He glances at Lan Zhan who, of course, looks pristine. Calm and cool, like he has absolutely nothing to do with the bite mark on the inside of Wei Wuxian's thigh at all.

"We dismantled each pocket slowly," Sizhui says. He swings around, still studying the compass, then glancing around the gardens. "We made sure the energy was, uh..." He trails off, watching the compass, then looking up wide-eyed. "Get back," he orders, whirling around and pulling out his sword.

Wei Wuxian has Chenqing in his hand the next moment, before he sees it. "Well, fuck," he murmurs to Lan Zhan, who also has his sword in hand, and they both move forward next to Sizhui, the rest of the disciples in formation behind them.

It's the proprietress of the tea house, or what used to be her. From the state of her clothes, and the amount of skin she's shedding in unsettling clumps, it's what used to be her quite some time ago. She's a shambling corpse now, and she looks really mad. "Retreat," Wei Wuxian orders, the group of them backing up. "Hang on, don't kill it," he orders Jingyi, who is raising his sword and looking like he's going to rush her.

"There's only one of it," Jingyi says, his jaw set, his eyes alarmed. "I can take it out myself."

"Quiet." Wei Wuxian glances at Lan Zhan, Chenqing to his lips, and Lan Zhan nods, switching out his sword for his qin. "You make that look so smooth," Wei Wuxian says to him with a grin, as their group edges back, drawing the proprietress away from the tea house in cautious steps. "Do you even know how hot you look when you do that?"

Lan Zhan ignores him, but Wei Wuxian just grins wider. He gets to say stuff like that now. Lan Zhan really is going to need to get used to it.

"Guard us," Wei Wuxian calls to Sizhui. "This is going to be distracting. Don't kill it," he says again, pointedly, to Jingyi. "Not yet." Jingyi nods, looking disgruntled, his hand still white-knuckled around his raised sword.

"Let's do it," Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Zhan nods, striking a chord.

It's been a while since they've done this, and it's only ever been a sort of idea of how it would work. Fierce corpses don't generally give you much to work with. It's a lot easier to communicate with a spirit without any remnant of a body. Fierce corpses have had most of who they were eaten away, and the longer they've been gone, the more difficult it is. Weirdly, as Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan play their altered rendition of Inquiry, the one they'd worked on here and there, mostly just talking about it, occasionally carving out the time to jot down some notes on chords and counter notes, there's more there than Wei Wuxian would have expected. He wrinkles his brow, concentrating on weaving his notes of energy into the chords Lan Zhan is playing on his qin, as the lady's fierce corpse keeps taking her halting steps forward.

She's super mad.

Wei Wuxian lets his next notes weave around her, the smoke creeping around her ankles, tendrils of it plucking at her robes. The sound she makes would have been a cry of anger if she’d had enough of a throat left to have it come out as more than a gurgle.

Wei Wuxian glances over at Lan Zhan, who's letting Wei Wuxian hold her back as he communicates with whatever part of her is left. The notes coming from the qin have a disturbing, tuneless quality. Lan Zhan's mouth is drawn in a serious line, and he shakes his head at Wei Wuxian, his focus still on what used to be the lady.

"Hold the line," Wei Wuxian calls to the juniors. "We need more time, just watch her, keep her from getting too close. I'm going to—" He gets between her and Lan Zhan, bringing Chenqing to his lips again and playing a modulated version of the composition he and Lan Zhan had put together, and oh, that does it: the wind picks up in the garden, a screaming, echoing gale of it, sending the trees shaking and the dirt flying. There's an endless series of dissonant chords from Lan Zhan's qin, that somehow sound weirdly beautiful as they weave together with Wei Wuxian's playing.

He doesn't know how long it goes on, only that when it's done, the wind dies down in a jarring rush and what's left of the proprietress falls to her knees and then collapses fully, the corpse falling to dust even as it hits the ground.

"...what the fuck," he hears Jingyi whisper from somewhere to his left.

He can't help but grin, tilting his head to look back over his shoulder at Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan is standing there, a curious look on his face, his hands still poised over the now-silent qin.

"Well." Wei Wuxian gives Chenqing a spin before neatly tucking her back in his belt. "That sure was something."

The four juniors that Sizhui had sent to check out the phenomenon come racing back into the garden. "It's gone," one of them says breathlessly. "The hole, the tear, it's...it's gone. We didn't—we'd just gotten there, and it got wider again, huge, like it was going to eat the whole town, and then it just...vanished."

Sizhui still has his sword in his hand, unsheathed, pointing towards the pile of ashes that used to be the tea house proprietress. His breath is coming quickly, but his arm is steady, his face determined.

"Stand down," Wei Wuxian says cheerfully. "You, too," he says over his shoulder at Lan Zhan, who seems surprised that the qin is still out. He makes a gesture over it, stashing it swiftly away.

Sizhui walks over to them, sheathing his sword. He looks a little wide-eyed, but focused.

"Good work," Wei Wuxian says. "Your crew kept it together."

"What was that?" It's Jingyi, of course. He's right next to Sizhui, one hand on his shoulder.

Lan Zhan looks at Sizhui. Wei Wuxian grins. Lan Zhan has never been a fan of providing exposition.

"It was her," Sizhui says slowly, like he's picking through the chords of the conversation between the lady and Lan Zhan. "It was her, doing...all of it."

"But we talked to her! We just talked to her yesterday. She was a person." Jingyi says, sounding almost offended.

"Not really," Sizhui says. "Not exactly. Not anymore."

Wei Wuxian moves back, settling his shoulder against Lan Zhan's.

"She was using the energy from...everyone who came through here," Sizhui says slowly. "Bleeding it off. Tiny enough bits of it, enough to keep her alive—sort of—for years. I think." He glances at Lan Zhan, who nods. "For years," Sizhui says again. "She was clinging to what was left of herself—a strong spirit." He shudders, a little bit. "She was so strong, she had such memories of herself, her human self, even after..." He looks at Lan Zhan again.

"Even after she'd turned into a fierce corpse. There was enough of her left, somehow, to manage to weave the energy into an aura of humanity." Lan Zhan looks troubled. "She must have been...very powerful indeed, in life."

"Powerful enough to knit herself back together?" Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow.

Sizhui looks at Lan Zhan again and nods uncertainly. "Not perfectly," he says. "She...knew that, I think. It was becoming more unstable over time. That's why the pockets of resentful energy. She kept...casting it away?"

He says it as a question and Lan Zhan tilts his head before responding. "Uncertain," he says, "But it seems likely."

"I'm not sure that's something you can...do." Wei Wuxian has certainly tried all manner of dispersing resentful energy. "I've never seen anything like this. If she was this powerful, I feel like we would have heard of her." He looks at Lan Zhan. "Have you ever heard of some powerful cultivator residing in this village over...how long?" he asks Sizhui.

"Years," Sizhui says, with absolute certainty. "She lived here for years, and she'd been...like that, for years after, too."

"Tied to this place," Wei Wuxian murmurs, rolling it over in his head.

"Not tied," Lan Zhan says. "Dedicated."

"She fell in love here," Sizhui says softly. "Her husband died here, when...whatever happened to them occurred. Whatever it was that turned her into...that. He's buried here." He gestures. "Here, here—over on the other side of this garden."

"The details are unclear," Lan Zhan says slowly, like he's thinking it through even as he speaks. "She'd spent so many years refusing to remember his death—their deaths—that it was lost in what was left of her mind."

"But she was determined to stay," Sizhui says. "Stay with him."

"So she dispersed resentful energy, creating pockets of..." Wei Wuxian gestures to encompass the various odd things they'd encountered in the town.

Jingyi breaks in with, "Real weird stuff."

"...real weird stuff," Wei Wuxian allows. "Where does the tear come in, though? And why did it affect people differently?"

"That's not something she herself was entirely aware of," Lan Zhan says. "She'd been slowly unraveling for so long, there wasn't much of her left, by the end."

Wei Wuxian ponders. "Do you think that it was just a perfect storm of...bled-off energy? Would bleeding off energy do something like that? And if it did, if it somehow, like, clustered together and then, I don't know, tore some sort of hole in the world, is that even something that could happen?"

Sizhui is looking at Jingy, who's muttering something to him, gesturing with his hands. The two of them are intent on each other, heads tilted close, like they're not even aware of their proximity, or of how Jingy is grabbing Sizhui's robe in one hand and clutching at it as he makes his final point. "You tell it," he says then, giving Sizhui's robe a firm tug.

"Maybe," Sizhui says slowly. "Maybe, if it did happen that way, the way that you said, Wei-qianbei, then maybe the reason different people had different reactions to it was because of a sort of—"

"Energy type thing!" Jingyi bursts out. "She wanted to keep things undercover here! That was her goal—right?" he says to Sizhui. "To not be found out, so she'd get to stay here with her husband?"

"Right." Sizhui nods. "And she was losing control of her situation, of the energy that was keeping her together, like she was still...fully alive. If that unstable energy was part of what bled over into the tear—"

"Which was itself unstable to begin with—"

"—and everything was beginning to unravel on this end with her anyway, then maybe..." Sizhui stops, and looks at Jingyi.

"Maybe that's why." Jingyi shrugs. "Unstable energy pattern equals unstable reaction on...disparate populations."

Wei Wuxian rocks back on his heels when they're done. He glances at Lan Zhan and murmurs, "Thoughts, Hanguang-jun?"

Lan Zhan is watching Sizhui and if Wei Wuxian had to give a name to the look, it would be something like pride. "Perhaps," is all he says, though.

"It needs more research," Wei Wuxian declares. "But it sounds like a pretty solid starting place to me." He looks at Sizhui. "Toss me that compass you made?"

"You made it," Sizhui says, handing it to him carefully.

"You made it more interesting," Wei Wuxian points out, turning it over in his hand. "This is a good start, too," he says. "I bet you can use it to work out the energy signatures. Make sure everything has dissipated. Clear things up in the town, make sure there are no more pockets of residual resentful energy, that sort of thing." He studies the compass in his hand—it really is a fascinating piece of work—then tosses it back to Sizhui, who catches it neatly. "Think your team can manage that?"

SIzhui is too much like Lan Zhan to beam, but his cheeks flush as he says, "Mn," and his bow is slightly lower than it needs to be.

Jingyi, who Wei Wuxian sometimes wonders how on earth he came to be from the Lan sect, is grinning widely and already nudging Sizhui with his elbow as he rises. "We're on it," he says.

Sizhui nods, and then turns briskly back to his team, calling them together and starting to give them orders on how they're going to approach the work.

"I guess you're right," Wei Wuxian says, leaning his shoulder against Lan Zhan's again. "I guess they are grown up."

"They did well." Lan Zhan doesn't step away from Wei Wuxian, even as Wei Wuxian leans against him more aggressively, resting his weight there and grinning up at him. "Sizhui has good instincts."

"He always has," Wei Wuxian declares.

"Mn." Lan Zhan wraps one arm around Wei Wuxian's waist, holding him against him, hip to hip. Wei Wuxian feels his mouth drop open and he struggles against the hold, his face going hot as he hisses, "Lan Zhan."

Lan Zhan looks down at him placidly, not relinquishing his hold.

"Not in front of the kids." Wei Wuxian wrestles himself away, blushing even harder in the face of Lan Zhan's calm demeanor. He shakes his hair out of his face and brushes his robes down, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. "Honestly, Lan Zhan," he says. "Where's your sense of decency and decorum?"

The look Lan Zhan gives him—some would call it smoldering—shows Wei Wuxian exactly what Lan Zhan thinks about decency and decorum.

"I think," Wei Wuxian says, making an attempt at dignity, "that Sizhui can manage things from here. Right, Sizhui?"

Sizhui turns back to them. "Yes, Wei-qianbei, Hanguang-jun," he says, bowing.

"Great," Wei Wuxian says, watching as he sends the junior off in teams. "Good, then, I guess we're...free to go?" He glances at Lan Zhan, who's still—god, he's got to stop doing that in public—smoldering at him.

"Correct." Lan Zhan's the one who lets his shoulder brush against Wei Wuxian's as he heads sedately out of the garden, somehow even that light touch sending a rush of heat through Wei Wuxian.

"You're not behaving in a very gentlemanly manner," Wei Wuxian says, going after him.

"To be fair," Lan Zhan says, still moving forward smoothly, "I'm not trying very hard."

Wei Wuxian's face feels like it could split open, he's grinning so big. He has the smallest glimmer of something that maybe feels like hope that he might, actually, get to have this.

"Lan Zhan," he calls out after him, "we've got to stop to pick up my donkey, first. On the way. You're good with that, right?"

Lan Zhan pauses on the edge of the garden, caught in a ray of weak winter sunlight. He turns just a little, and reaches out a hand as Wei Wuxian catches up with him. "I'm good with that," he says, as Wei Wuxian slips his hand into Lan Zhan's.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian whispers. The tent Lan Zhan has set up for them—his qiankun pouch really does have absolutely everything—is small, but they've made the most of it and are now curled up together. Lan Zhan's breath is still coming fast, his chest rising and falling underneath Wei Wuxian's cheek. Wei Wuxian's fingers are still tingling from how hard Lan Zhan had made him come. "Lan Zhan," he says again, wiggling closer.

"Hmm?" Lan Zhan says. He wraps his arm more firmly around Wei Wuxian's shoulders.

"Are you really going to just...stop being Chief Cultivator?" Wei Wuxian feels bold for saying it right out. Something about the close stillness of the nighttime air makes it feel safe.

"Mn." Wei Wuxian can feel Lan Zhan nod his head. "It's not meant to be a lifetime position."

"Yes, but." Wei Wuxian shifts around, propping his chin on his hands, resting against Lan Zhan's chest. "You're good at it, and they...aren't they expecting you to keep doing it?"

"I'm good at many things," Lan Zhan says, his matter of fact assessment of his many—many—skills making Wei Wuxian duck his head to press his smile against his hands. "And they can expect me to keep doing it, but that doesn't mean that I must."

"Yeah, but—do you want to?" Wei Wuxian's chest hurts a little as he asks it.

"I do not." Lan Zhan's hand comes up, his fingers reaching to take a lock of Wei Wuxian's hair, looping around it, and giving it a small tug. "I told you that."

"But." Wei Wuxian gnaws on his lip for a moment. "You shouldn't leave it just because of—" It sounds so stupid in his head, and he can't get the words out.

"You," Lan Zhan says, rolling them over suddenly, flipping Wei Wuxian beneath him in the closeness of the tent, "are a good enough reason to do anything." He kisses Wei Wuxian until he's breathless, until he's nearly forgotten why this conversation is important. "But I meant it when I said I'd step down, even if you didn't want me."

Lan Zhan says it almost in a whisper, and Wei Wuxian's heart clenches like a fist, too many words caught in his throat. How could I ever not want you and I've been wanting you across two lifetimes and I'm not a good reason, I'm a bad decision, I'll drag you down.

What comes out, in the nighttime hush, is, "I want you." He says it like a promise, fierce and too loud, and he doesn't care.

"Well." Lan Zhan kisses him, then kisses him again, and then once more, like he's doing it for good measure. "That's good, then." He shifts them around again, curling up on his side and pulling Wei Wuxian's back against his chest. He's encompassing Wei Wuxian, his knees curling up against his, his hand broad and warm against his stomach. "Where shall we go," he says softly. "We can do anything we want."

Anything they want. Wei Wuxian shifts, pressing back against Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan just holds onto him more firmly. "After Cloud Recesses," he says, "after you quit—" It's a thrilling word to think in conjunction with Lan Zhan and sends a bolt of nervous energy through him. "—after that, well." He thinks for a moment. "We head out on the open road." Again, it feels bold, to put words to the thoughts he's been carrying with him, ever since he first walked away from Cloud Recesses. "We go together, and we help people, and we do it on our own terms."

"Our own terms." Lan Zhan says it on a yawn. His arm gets heavier where it rests over Wei Wuxian's side. It must be long after Lan Zhan's usual bedtime—Lan Zhan had been very thorough as he'd taken Wei Wuxian apart here in the tent. Wei Wuxian thinks he must have alarmed Little Apple. He presses a grin against his arm.

"Right." Wei Wuxian puts his hand over Lan Zhan's where it rests against him. "Our own terms. Just us. You and me."

Lan Zhan murmurs something, already half-asleep behind him, but he doesn't shift onto his back or relinquish his hold. Wei Wuxian is warm in Lan Zhan's embrace, and he's sleepy, too—though fucked-out might be more like it. He blinks into the darkness. None of this seems quite real, not yet, but here they are, on their way to Cloud Recesses. Cloud Recesses, where Lan Zhan will take the time to wrap things up, shift the responsibility onto his brother—and Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian thinks sleepily, will be very good at the job—and then, well. Who knows.

Wei Wuxian hopes they linger in Cloud Recesses long enough for Lan Zhan to take him apart just as thoroughly in the jingshi as he has in the tent tonight. It's another thing he's tucked away and not let himself think about too much, this quiet, scandalous longing for what the two of them might do, in the secluded privacy of Lan Zhan's personal space.

He lets himself think about it now, tracing over the vague but well-worn paths of it, the fantasy of it that might, it feels like now, actually become real. He feels warm all over, even though the air of the tent is chilly, and he sighs, just a little, as Lan Zhan pulls him closer in his sleep. Who knows what's to come, he thinks sleepily. It could be anything. Anything at all.