Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, was tired. No, he was more than tired; exhausted didn’t even describe the aching fatigue that reached into every part of his soul.
Jin Zixuan was dead. His life was over.
Wei Ying wanted to yell at Wen Ning for this tragedy, but he couldn’t, not when it was his fault. He could pretend that he hadn’t lost control. Unfortunately, the truth was, he did. They had cornered him, surrounding him with three hundred archers after removing any of the dead that might help him. The Jin must have been planning this for days, weeks even, maybe even before they had Lan Zhan send him an invitation.
There were Lan among the Jin. Did that mean Lan Zhan had been a part of the ambush? No. The honourable Hanguang-jun would not do something so underhanded. If he wanted to kill Wei Ying, he would do so with Bichen, quickly and quietly. Somewhere inside, Wei Ying wished he would. He could handle dying by the hand of someone truly righteous.
However, Wei Ying still had people to protect.
Could he really keep the Wen Remnants safe now? The rest of the cultivation world was bound to show up within the next few days. This was their best opportunity to destroy them and claim the Tiger Seal for their own without losing face.
He sighed and sank onto the stool by his worktable. His fingers played with one of his brushes.
If he could think of a way out of this, he would. Then again, if he could think of a way out of this, wouldn’t he have done so already? Or did he get complacent here, not wanting to lose the little family he had become a part of. There were also the strings, thin and frayed as they might be, tying him to his martial siblings and even Lan Zhan.
How selfish he was to hold onto what isn’t even his. As much as he wanted, he was never truly a member of the Jiang family. Throughout all the years he spent there, he lived on the outside. Sure, his shijie called him her brother and was the closest person he had to a mother, but he wasn’t really. As for Jiang Cheng, they were friends, but his shidi never called him brother. And Lan Zhan? Well, he was the best of the Lan and did not deserve to have his reputation soiled by Wei Ying.
Besides, he had ruined all three relationships when Jin Zixuan died.
No. Before that. When Lotus Pier fell, he destroyed his right to be a Jiang disciple. When he learned demonic cultivation, he severed any connection he might have made with Lan Zhan.
Now, he would most likely lose Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Wen Yuan, and all the others who treated him like he belonged.
He failed.
This was the third family that would die, and he didn’t know how to stop it. No matter how hard he tried, people just kept dying on him, leaving him.
If only he had died during the war. That had been the plan, but he just had to survive. He should have let himself die when he first landed in the Burial Ground. As much as he wanted to save Jiang Cheng, Shijie, Lan Zhan, and others, he would have served them better if he hadn’t returned.
He laughed at himself, a bitter, hateful sound closer to a sob than amusement. What arrogance he had to think they wouldn’t survive without him.
Sure, he wanted revenge. He wanted to destroy Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu, but someone else would have done it – Lan Zhan, probably. He and Jiang Cheng would have killed them both and gone on to mourn Wei Ying as just another one of the fallen.
With gritted teeth, he pinched his arm in an attempt to clear his head. These thoughts weren’t going to get him anywhere. They certainly weren’t going to help him fix the sinking pit he was now mired in.
No, he had to come up with a plan before anyone else died or did something foolish. He was Wei Wuxian; he was the only one allowed to be foolish.
What he really needed to do was find a way to get his Wen off this damn mountain. If he could get them far away, then he could destroy the Tiger Seal even if it would kill him to do so. They would be safe. Shijie would be safe. Jiang Cheng would be safe, and so would Lan Zhan.
Another sour chuckle escaped him. Of course, Lan Zhan would be safe. He was safe now. Wei Ying didn’t mean much to him, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he did. He was just someone Lan Zhan wanted to correct, tame, bring back to the righteous path.
He slammed a fist against the table. This wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Determined to think of something, he picked up his brush again and started to make notes.
It took most of the night to come up with a plan. Things would have gone faster if he didn’t decide to keep it secret from the Wen, especially Wen Qing and Wen Ning. As far as they knew, he was still unconscious as everytime the warning talismans he placed by the entrance went off, he jumped back to his bed and lay still until they left. It was the best meditating he had ever done. At first, he expected Wen Qing to notice right away, but she seemed too distracted to notice.
He didn’t like the conversation she had with Wen Ning. They couldn’t turn themselves in to the Jin. Whatever Jin Guangshan promised, he wouldn’t keep. The Wen siblings would die for nothing. No, he would have to have an alternative to present to them if he wanted to stop them from being so foolish.
So he worked and planned, creating the arrays he would need to succeed in saving them.
“What you doing?” a-Yuan asked, popping up by his elbow.
Ah, he forgot to reset his warning system.
He petted the boy’s head and scooped him into his lap. “I’m creating something amazing,” he told him in a low voice while tickling the boy’s ribs.
“Is it a secret?” he asked between giggles.
“Sort of.” He picked up his brush again and dipped it in ink. “It’s not quite done enough to share yet. Is Auntie Qing up?”
His tiny shoulders twitched as he peered at Wei Ying’s papers. “Mm. Not sure. Uncle Ning is ‘cause he doesn’t sleep, but I got tired of sleeping and wanted to see you. Auntie Qing says you’re not feeling well. Are you better?”
Those amazing, brown eyes peered up at him with all the love and trust of a small child. He squeezed the boy in a hug, his heart rate picking up. “Mmm. Much better, but I have to do a little work before your Auntie sticks me with more pins, so could you play by yourself for now?”
A-Yuan tapped the side of his nose in a way that made Wei Ying grin. “Don’t want to leave you. Can I play here? I’ll be quiet.”
Nodding, Wei Ying placed the boy on the floor and gave him a piece of scrap paper and some bits of charcoal. “How about drawing me a picture?”
“Okay,” his dear boy decided after a moment’s thought. “Of what?”
“Rabbits?”
Another nod and a-Yuan set to work, his face scrunched in concentration.
By the time Wen Qing arrived to check on him, Wei Ying had a clear enough plan to present to them. When he heard them coming, he sent a-Yuan off for breakfast, promising him to play later if he was good for Granny Wen. The boy snatched up his best bunny blob to show her and waved at the Wen siblings as he ran past.
“What a whirlwind,” Wei Ying said with a laugh.
Wen Qing narrowed her eyes at him before exchanging a suspicious look with her brother.
“What?” he asked innocently.
She grabbed his wrist and peered into his eyes. “Do you remember what happened on the way to Koi Tower?”
“Aiya, yeah.” He grimaced and turned to Wen Ning, who was practically shaking out of his robes several steps away. “I’m sorry for losing control, a-Ning. It’s not much of an excuse, but I felt cornered and reacted poorly.” He bowed as best as he could with Wen Qing holding onto him.
“Master Wei, you shouldn’t apologise to me. I’m the one who killed Jin Zixuan,” the boy insisted, appearing as frightened as his frozen face would let him.
“Ah, the wielder doesn’t blame the weapon, a-Ning,” he insisted, shaking a finger.
“Damn it, I should have checked closer,” Wen Qing said, pushing his arm away from her. “You haven’t been unconscious, have you? Don’t lie,” she added as he opened his mouth.
“Hey,” he pouted, hands on his hips. “I wasn’t going to. And, no, I wasn’t. And it’s a good thing, too, because I’ve come up with a plan.”
He pinned them both with a disapproving frown. “One that doesn’t involve either of you sacrificing yourselves for nothing.”
This time, he interrupted her when she opened her mouth to protest. “Ah, ah, ah. Nope. There’s no need for you to surrender. It wouldn’t help, anyway, so keep your needles to yourself, devil,” he said as her hand went to her sleeve.
She dropped her hand away and took a seat near him. “Okay, let’s hear what you’ve got rolling around in that brain of yours. But I warn you, if I don’t like it or it means you sacrificing yourself for us again, a-Ning and I will fulfil our agreement with the Jin.”
“Hah!” he barked. “Like they would ever think to keep an agreement. If they had, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”
The siblings had to admit that was true, at least. Putting their trust in someone like Jin Guangshan, was ridiculous and bound to disappoint.
“Okay, so my plan is threefold,” he began, organising his papers for them. “The way I see it we need a better place to live - somewhere safe with fresh air, water, and good soil. We also need to get as far away from the Jin and the cultivation world as we can. Plus, we need, or I need, to do something about the Tiger Seal because there’s no way I’m letting Jin Guangslime get it.”
“I think we can all agree on those,” she replied with an exasperated twist of her features.
“In the words of Lan Zhan, mn. Now, there is one more thing we need to achieve these goals.” He waited, wondering if they would guess.”
“A miracle or three?” she offered, and a-Ning nodded vigorously.
“Nope,” he said, pointing his brush in her direction. “You don’t need a miracle when you have a miracle maker like me.”
She wiped a spot of ink from her face. “Watch it, Miracle Maker.”
“Time?” a-Ning suggested, still too anxious to get too close.
Wei Ying gave him his proudest, friendliest smile. “Exactly.”
“Time. Okay, Miracle Pest, just how are you going to get us time? The Jin expect a-Ning and me to meet them at our border by the end of the day.”
Fuck, he was so sick of the Jin and their demands. He wasn’t going to let the Wen siblings go, if he had to bring down the whole mountain on them. However, if he let himself fall into his anger or got sidetracked by a heated debate about their useless sacrifice, he’d lose everyone.
“That’s why I have created this.” He presented his time-altering array notes with a flourish.
One of her eyebrows flicked upward. “And this is?”
“It’s kind of like a time blip.”
They blinked at him, both of them, even a-Ning, who couldn’t blink.
He heaved a disappointed sigh. “Think of it like a qiankun bag for people.”
More blinking.
“Basically, I am going to take our current wards and adapt them with this array to put the Burial Ground in an altered space. The amount of resentful energy here is the perfect place to set up such a bubble. Any other area would fail even if several hundred cultivators tried to power it. See, for every hour that goes by for the rest of the world, we gain a day. Now, I figure we have between ten and twelve real-time hours which is about how long the array will last before it starts to fail.”
“So, if what you’re saying works, we’ll gain almost two weeks here,” Wen Qing said, tapping her fingers together thoughtfully. “But what will that give us? We will still have to face the Jin at the end of it.”
“Ah, but this is just step one of my amazing, stupendous, miracle plan. Once we have the time, I have created travel talismans especially for a-Ning.” He passed his best friend the pieces of paper. “They run on resentful energy, so you should have no problem activating them.”
“To do what? To go where?” he asked, the yellow pieces shaking in his hand.
He pulled out a crude map and spread it on the cave floor. “I’ve drawn out as much of the cultivation world as I can remember. We have Meishan here, Qishan here, and Qinghe there.” He pointed to each one in turn. “Obviously, we can’t go anywhere in Qishan because they’ll expect that, and neither Meishan nor Qinghe is an option.”
“Obviously,” she said with the usual, soul-suffering roll of her eyes. “The rest of these places aren’t an option either,” she added with a wave of her hand over the rest of the map.
Wei Ying gestured to the blank space to the left of the areas they already knew. “Ah, but what’s beyond Qishan? What about the area past its borders? There has to be somewhere farther east that would suit our needs.”
She huffed and shook her head. “We’ve been over this before. The others are too old, too weak to travel so far. Plus, the Jin would be on us the minute we leave.”
“Ah, ah. Miracle worker, remember?” he told her and jabbed his thumb against his chest.
“Right. Forgot. Silly me. What miracle have you come up with to solve this particular problem, oh great, Miracle Boy?”
He bowed, giving her an impish grin. “A portal.”
“A portal.”
“Yep. See, a-Ning, you take these travel talismans and head east until you find a decent place just far enough away to hide everyone. From there, you take this array,” he handed over another paper, “and place it on the ground in a clearing. Once you activate it, it will activate a matching array here. This will allow everyone to pass through without any stress or strain. Poof, we’re gone, and the rest of the cultivation world won’t know where we are.”
Her fingers tapped against her leg as her eyes flicked from him, to the papers, to Wen Ning, and back. “You don’t know if these will work, do you?”
He shrugged, his excitement dimming. “No, but I can’t see why they wouldn’t. Besides, if they don’t we’re nowhere different than we are now.” Anxious, he shuffled over until their knees almost touched and took her hands in his. “Please, let’s try this. I can’t lose you or anyone else.”
Her dark eyes met his silver ones. “And you’ll come with us? Because I can’t let you sacrifice anymore of yourself for us. You’ve done enough.”
The Jin don’t even want the Wen Remnants. They were an excuse to force him to give up the Tiger Seal. But he wasn’t going to tell them that. He couldn’t tell them Jin Guangshan and his cohorts thought their lives were nothing but a bargaining chip for his own greed.
“I’ll come with you,” he assured her and hoped that it would be the truth.
As soon as he finished setting up the portal array and the time-blip array, Wen Ning left right before he activated their qiankun bubble. The wards shimmered for less than a second, giving nothing away to the Jin cultivators he was sure were watching them.
“How do we know if it is working?” Wen Qing asked, standing at his elbow with a-Yuan in her arms.
He tapped the side of his nose as he examined the area. From his vantage point among the trees he could see the land beyond their wards. As he watched the shadows, he compared them to the ones near him. While the ones surrounding him barely shifted, those beyond crept along like living beings in a hurry.
“Look.” He pointed to the different shadows.
She shuddered. “Oh, that’s bizarre. Oh, I can’t look at that. It’s making me dizzy.” She turned away and kept her gaze on the ground. “I’m going to check on everyone. Make sure there aren’t any physical side effects to this bubble of yours.”
“You might want to get everyone ready to move too,” he hollered as she wandered up the path. Happy with his results so far, he twirled his dizi as he headed to his cave. He had so much to pack; plus, he still had to deal with the Tiger Seal. None of his notes or inventions belonged in the hands of the Jin. There were letters to write too: one to Jiang Cheng, one to Shijie, one to Huaisang, and one to Lan Zhan.
Why was that the hardest? Nothing he said would change the fact that he was everything the Lan despised. Still, he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. After all, if things had been different, he liked to think he would have worn Lan Zhan down, that they could have been friends if nothing else.
He paused at that. If nothing else. What else was there? Soulmates, two parts of a whole, zhijis, cultivation partners? His brain stopped as he decided not to explore those thoughts further. Whatever they could have been didn’t matter. What they were now was two people following opposite paths. That hurt.
Groaning out loud, he grabbed a qiankun bag and started stuffing his papers inside. While a part of him wanted to sort them as he went, he decided he could do that at the other end of this move. Filing things and organisation was something he would deal with when they were safe. Right now, he wanted to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind.
Once Wen Qing was satisfied no one was suffering from the stretching of time, she gathered everyone together and informed them of the plan. He avoided that meeting, fearful of their objections or concern. Enough worries were pricking at his conscience to keep him fretting without adding theirs.
“Xian-gege, Auntie Qing says it’s time for supper,” a-Yuan called as he came running in. He tilted his head and pressed his lips in a thin line as he looked around. “Where’d everything go?”
Wei Ying scooped him into his arms. “It’s all packed away.”
The little boy pressed his hands on either side of Wei Ying’s face. “Even my drawings?”
“Of course,” he responded, pressing their foreheads together. “Those are the most important. Can’t leave even a piece of your precious art behind. What would I use to decorate with in our new home?”
“Will I get to live with you?” he asked, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, I hope so, Little Radish. I hope so. Would you like that?”
Tiny arms snaked around his neck as the son of his heart hugged him. “Yes, please. A-Yuan would like that very much.”
A twisting ache shot through Wei Ying’s chest. “Oh, I would too.”
Later that night, he sat around their campfire with Wen Qing. The rest of the camp had gone to bed, tired from organising the move.
“It’s so strange,” Wen Qing said, staring up at the dark sky overlapping the blue of the rest of the world. “It’s night. It even feels like night, but out there, it’s only been an hour.”
“Unsettling, isn’t it? Like being awake in a dream.” He leaned back with his arms behind him, propping himself up with his hands.
She nodded, her expression worn and worried. “Yes, but the nightmare is what’s waiting for us when we wake up.”
“Hopefully, we’ll be far away before any nightmares can find us.”
Her gaze dropped to the fire flickering in front of them. “I hope Wen Ning is all right. I hate having him so far away.”
With a long exhale through his nose, he sat up and poked at the coals with a stick. “I know. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who else to send. He’s the only one of us, aside from me, who can trigger a talisman with resentful energy, and I needed to stay here to set up this side. Plus, he can travel without stopping for sleep or to eat.”
“I know,” she said, her voice soft and eyes glistening. “I just… I don’t want to hope too hard, you know? We’ve already lived two years more than we expected to. Do we even have the right to live longer?”
He frowned at that, the words stirring up anger. “Who has the right to say you don’t deserve to live a long, full life? You and your family are innocent. None of you deserve to pay for Wen Ruohan’s crimes.”
“I kept him alive,” she admitted, hanging her head. “I kept him going when resentful energy could have killed him or driven him to kill himself off.”
Wei Ying dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “He held you prisoner by threatening the lives of your family. That is not voluntary service. If you had the choice; if your family wasn’t a concern, would you have helped him?”
“No.”
Her answer was so soft, he almost missed it. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “No. I would have let him kill me instead. I should have. Maybe it would have saved my family in the end.”
A harsh laugh escaped him. “Right. Because the Jin would have cared. It’s not your fault the whole cultivation world is corrupt at its core. Aside from Lan Zhan, I can’t think of one I would consider honourable. Maybe Huaisang, but his core is so small, I’m not sure he counts.”
“Not even Jiang Wanyin?” she asked, turning to him.
The question made him hesitate. “No,” he finally admitted. “I want to include him, but he has so much of his mother in him. He changed after Lotus Pier fell.”
“We all did.”
“Yeah, but Jiang Cheng wasn’t ready to become sect leader. Not that I think he’ll do a poor job, but he doesn’t know how to stand up to someone like Jin Guangshan. His mother taught him her anger and his father didn’t teach him anything. It’s a bad combination. I suppose Jiang Fengmian thought he had more time or that I would be there to guide him, but neither of those things happened.” He swallowed the tightness in his throat. This conversation wasn’t helping either of them.
“Do you really think things would have worked out between you two if you stayed with him?” she asked before he could change the subject.
He gave a half shrug. “To be honest? I don’t know. I would have stood by him if things had been different, but he blames me for the fall of Lotus Pier.”
Her eyes drifted to his throat. “I remember the bruises on your neck. That wasn’t Wen Chao, was it?”
“No,” he admitted, the word forcing its way out of his mouth. “He nearly strangled me to death after we got away.” He gave a self-mocking chuckle. “I would have let him. It was my fault. He lost everything because of me.”
“Oh, for the sake of all the celestial beings in the heavens, get it through your head. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It wa…”
She cut him off. “No! If it wasn’t my fault that Wen Ruohan lived to wreak havoc on the rest of the world, it wasn’t your fault that Lotus Pier fell. You didn’t drag them to Lotus Pier and let them through the gates. You deflected Wen Chao’s attention away from the other students and saved their lives. It isn’t your fault that Jiang Wanyin is the type of person who believes it’s better to stay by the side and let others fall to save himself. It isn’t your fault that Jiang Fengmian refused to believe Wen Ruohan would attack or that Madame Yu was too arrogant to refuse them entry. Nor is it your fault Wen Zhuliu could destroy cores or was willing to do such a thing for a slug like Wen Chao. Stop blaming yourself. Yunmeng was next on his list. It was his best strategic move. They were coming no matter what happened.”
“Okay, but if I hadn’t drawn their attention, we would have had more time,” he insisted, tears threatening to fall despite himself.
With a shake of her head, she grabbed his hand. “And would that have helped? Three months went by between the indoctrination and the invasion. What did Jiang Fengmian do in that time? Nothing. Given more time, he would have probably decided the incident was forgotten. Hells, the rest of the sects probably would have too. Wen Ruohan was smart. He knew giving them time would make them relax. He understood it would make them more vulnerable.”
Her words made sense. They did, but he couldn’t help it. Everything was always his fault. “Madame Yu said it was my fault. She always said I would be the downfall of their sect,” he admitted quietly.
She snorted. “Of course, she did. That woman spent her life blaming others for everything, and she planted that guilt in you. Tell me, was it your mother’s fault their marriage was terrible?”
He closed his eyes, trying to keep his ghosts at bay. “No.”
“No. Of course not. Your mother didn’t love Jiang Fengmian. She loved your father. Your father knew he couldn’t stay in Lotus Pier and marry your mother. Was that wrong of him?”
Unable to speak anymore, he shook his head.
“No. Your parents loved each other and you. I still think they were negligent for leaving a three-year-old by himself, so they could night hunt, but I would like to believe the situation was so dire they had no choice. Either way, their choices had nothing to do with Jiang Fengmian or Madame Yu. You are not Jiang Fengmian’s child. You are the child of Cangze Sanren and Wei Chengzi, two talented cultivators who bore a powerful son, who shouldn’t have given his core away.’
Her words petered away at the end, as though she regretted speaking them. He clenched his jaw, trying to sort through his mess of feelings without the influence of the Tiger Seal muttering at him in the back of his mind.
“I don’t regret it,” he said finally. “I don’t.”
“Well, you should,” she told him with sorrow as she rose. “I certainly do.”
He watched her walk away, unable to move. Every part of him wanted to be mad. It was his core. He had the right to do whatever he wanted with it. Yes, he should have told Jiang Cheng about it before the operation, but he knew his shidi. If he had known, he would have spent the rest of his life believing everything he did was because of Wei Ying. Any greatness would be tainted by what his brother would have seen as heroic generosity. Wei Ying played the hero again, sacrificing himself for Jiang Cheng to prove he was the better person.
How many times had his shidi accused him of playing hero? What did that even mean? He didn’t stop to think about helping someone, he just did it. Was that playing? Playing implied forethought and the potential of a reward at the end. He didn’t know how not to help others; nor did he expect anything in return. In fact, he usually forgot about such events shortly after they occurred. His brain didn’t have enough room in it for those memories and all the other stuff floating around in there.
There was another reason he didn’t tell Jiang Cheng, one he hated to admit to himself. If he had told his shidi and Jiang Cheng had agreed, would that mean his martial brother thought of him as an object he could take parts from? Ah, he didn’t want to go down that road. It only led to guilt, self-loathing, and hurt.
He hopped to his feet and strode off to check the wards.
When the morning came, he took a deep breath as he exited his cave. The long night had left him tired as sleep came and went. Nightmares forced him to relive too many events he wanted to forget. Why couldn’t his brain lose those memories instead of the good ones? He’d much rather remember his parents than surgeries, whippings, or his first visit to the Burial Ground.
His bones cracked as he stretched from side to side. All around him, the Wens went about their morning chores. Several of them gathered by the central firepit for breakfast. He waved at them and headed out to check the wards again.
So far, everything seemed to be holding up. This was good since it would probably take several more days before they heard from Wen Ning. His goal for the day was to deal with the Tiger Seal. Well, to start the process, anyway.
The damn weapon was their salvation and their condemnation. He hated it, hated having made it and despised needing it now. If he was a more vindictive person, he might leave it for the sects to deal with, to the hells with the consequences. But he couldn’t do that to Shijie, Jin Ling, Lan Zhan, or any of the innocent civilians who would suffer because of it.
“Xian-gege, come eat,” a-Yuan beckoned from his spot at Granny Wen’s side, one hand on her lap and the other motioning to him. The cheeky child grinned at him with bright eyes.
How was he supposed to refuse that?
After two days of working through the steps he needed to do to rid himself of the Yin Iron, Wei Ying slipped out of the settlement armed with a pile of talismans, a dizi, one qiankun bag, and one evil invention.
He followed a trail he never wanted to set foot on again.
The rough, barely visible path was a narrow mess of bones, decay, and rubble that shifted under his feet. Rotting vegetation and other slimy refuse created a slick ooze to coat his boots. The foul goo squelched through the holes in the worn footwear with every step. As he stirred up the mess, the air filled with a choking stench that settled into his sinuses and throat.
He didn’t bother covering his mouth and nose. Nothing would keep that stink away; he learned that during his first journey through here. That time, he had to drag a broken, weak body along the path in hopes of finding some shelter.
A shiver ran through his body, knitted together with resentful energy, but never truly healed. What would happen if he stopped cultivating along his single plank bridge? Would his body fall apart? Would he finally die when he paid back the debt he owed to the Burial Ground for helping him live?
Wen Qing would kill him for keeping that secret from her. Death by needles, well, it had to be better than other ways of meeting one’s end.
Then again, what he was about to do, might finish him off anyway. Fortunately, he had left a pile of letters and instructions on his table for the good doctor to find. He had already sketched out the array in the middle of the Demon Subdue Palace. All she would have to do was guide them through when Wen Ning activated his side. The innate resentful energy soaked into the floor would do the rest.
He did not like keeping this step from her after promising to go with them, but he couldn’t see any other choice.
As he made his way toward his destination, the air became heavier and heavier until he had to stop for a while. He pressed his hands against his temples, trying to subdue the voices in his head. Hands shaking, he took out a couple of talismans and activated them before plastering them on his body. As the spells took hold, they created a small bubble around him. The space gave him enough room to breathe and think again. He pressed a hand against his chest to ease the ache there before taking up Chenqing. When he felt ready to continue, he let the notes of the nameless tune that haunted him float around him.
At first, the resentful energy tried to lash out at him, sending saturated branches whipping his way while brambles and thistles grabbed at his robes. Undeterred, he pushed forward, increasing his hold until the energy responded and let him pass.
From the corner of his vision, he caught the movement of rotting fierce corpses shuffling along with him. The mix of demonic animals and humans followed close enough to attack if he faltered, but not so near as to be a threat.
Once he reached the centre of the Burial Ground, he paused his song to build a circle of safety just big enough to kneel in and dig a hole. The wards wouldn’t last long with so much hateful intent battering at them, but he only needed a couple of hours at most. Any longer and his body would give up before anything else could get him.
Before he began; however, he cursed himself for not bringing anything like a shovel. Of course, he would forget something so essential to his plan. With an exasperated frown, he searched around until he found a skull big enough to work. Fortunately, it wasn’t a human skull. He didn’t think even he would be able to dig a hole with somebody’s head. As far as he could tell, it belonged to a giant bull. Well, as long as some part of the animal yao didn’t take offence, he would be able to work in peace.
He cringed as the screams and groans around him ebbed and flowed around his sanctuary. Well, relative peace.
Determined to succeed, he struck the ground with his bone shovel. After he broke through the crust, he managed to hit a slightly softer layer. With his hands already aching and dribbling blood, he was grateful. Still, there was so much farther to go. He pushed on, aware of how little time he had as his back began to burn with a fierce ache. Even his legs throbbed from having to crouch for so long.
As he dug, he cursed himself for not allowing time for rest. His chest and lungs burned as his breathing became more laboured. The pounding in his head did little to soothe the cacophony of voices screaming at him in his skull. Urgency built in him with every jarring plunge of bone into the unforgiving earth.
All at once, he stumbled forward as the ground gave way. He gasped and caught himself with his bleeding hands before he ended up stuck in the hole. Foul gases billowed up while filthy water spurted toward him. He gagged and spat out the poisonous liquid. Coughing, he curled around the pit and paused to gather himself together. After a short moment, he hauled himself back up and continued on. With every skull full, he pulled up muck and mud. In one way, it was easier. In another, the suction created made him nearly give up.Water wouldn’t help to secure the Seal. He needed stone and earth to bring balance. Despite this, he kept on until he syphoned away much of the liquid until he found gravel. Relieved, he pushed on with a new burst of energy.
By the time he hit the limit of his reach, he also collided with the last of his physical strength.
He gave up trying to wipe the sludge from his face as he sat back on his heels to catch his breath. The fierce corpses and angry spirits had moved closer as the warding started to fail. This wasn’t good. He still had so much to do.
Desperate to finish, he removed the qiankun bag from his belt and took out the wooden box he kept the Tiger Seal in. He had already engraved several runes over every surface, both inside and out as he used the case to keep the Yin iron somewhat secure back at the settlement. Both he and Wen Qing activated different arrays – her with her golden core, and him with resentful energy. The two intertwined to create a balanced barrier strong enough to reduce the Seal’s effect on him.
After putting the box aside, he lined the hole with as many stones as he could before layering the bottom with several warding talismans. With that ready, he placed the Tiger Seal inside before adding another layer of talismans and topped it off with stones and dirt. Once the ground was covered, he drew a final array in the dirt with his blood. The runes glowed for a moment before settling over the spot and locking the Yin Iron in the ground. `
Barely conscious with black dots blurring his vision, he stumbled away as the barrier around him collapsed. The influx of resentful energy soared through him, making him scream in agony.
Panting, he struggled to lift Chenqing and force his will upon the creatures surging toward him. The demonic creatures roared and screeched their objections, as they tried to grapple his legs and keep him where they could devour him.
Wei Ying kicked and drew on all the resentful energy he could handle. HIs insides burned as it coursed through him, thick like blood but as destructive as acid. Even though blood dribbled from his mouth, he did not stop playing. He couldn’t. If his control slipped for even a moment, they would tear him to pieces. Without the Tiger Seal to draw on, he had to use his force of will to conquer the evil clamouring to get him.
As he played, he shoved himself backward down the trail. Rocks tore his robes and slivers of brambles dug into his skin, but he kept going. His head spun as he fought for enough air to continue playing. Gradually, the demonic creatures around him relented, slowly wandering away in search of less difficult prey.
By the time Wei Ying could force his broken body back onto his feet, the air around him eased. He took a chance and removed his dizi from his lips to take in more oxygen. Dizzy and barely conscious, he stumbled his way back to the settlement. It was after dark when he finally fell at Wen Qing’s feet.
“I did it,” he gasped. “I sealed the seal away.” Laughter bubbled through his bloody mouth at that. “Let Jin Guangslug fight his way through that for it.”
When he woke up three days later, Wen Qing treated his wounds in silence. No matter how much he insisted it was the only way, she still wouldn’t talk to him.
It hurt more than his entire journey to the worst parts of the Burial Ground. The only thing that caused him more pain was that a-Yuan decided to follow her lead and silently stare at him with sorrowful eyes brimming with tears and a wobbling, pouty lip.
His heart broke at that and he kowtowed before them, his own tears flowing until his radish gave in and wrapped him in a tiny, but fierce, hug. They spent the rest of another day cuddling on his stone bed, where Wei Ying obediently drank all the medicine Wen Qing forced on him and endured every needle she stuck in his poor body.
On the tenth day of their time bubble, the portal array finally flared to life. By then, even he had begun to feel the edges of worry. The spatial array had started to weaken in spots, creating warped areas of confusion where reality crept through.
Fortunately, the sight of Wen Ning’s kind face on the other side of the gateway made the entire settlement cheer. Beyond him, they caught sight of bright, green trees and swaying grasses dotted with wildflowers.
“Uncle Ning, Uncle Ning,” a-Yuan exclaimed from the safety of Wen Qing’s arms. The boy wiggled and bounced in her firm grip.
Nobody wanted him to be the first one through the shimmering opening.
“Hello,” Wen Ning greeted with an awkward bow. “Should I step through?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot.
“No. Wait there,” Wei Ying told him, holding a hand up. “We need you on that side to maintain the connection.”
“Are you sure it’s safe to go through?” asked one of the older aunties.
“We’ll see.” Wei Ying picked up the one scraggly chicken they managed to acquire and threw it into the array. “Better a dead chicken than a dead person,” he explained as the squawking fowl frantically flapped its wings. The bird hung in the air for a second before smacking Wen Ning in the face. He yelped and let the angry, but living, chicken go in surprise.
Another cheer went up.
“Can I go through now? Can I?” a-Yuan begged, his eyes shining with excitement.
“Not yet,” Granny Wen advised, patting his little leg. She took him in her arms and hugged him close. “Soon, child.”
Once her arms were free, Wen Qing cuffed Wei Ying on the head. “You are sooo…”
“Charming, intelligent, impressive?” he interjected and ducked as she went to hit him again.
“Lucky,” she said instead. “You are the luckiest person I have ever met.”
“Hey, if I was lucky, I’d have a wagon full of Emperor’s Smile to take with us,” he protested and followed after her. Despite his sore head, he was happy. She spoke to him. His heart was full again. Well, almost. A part of him still ached at the thought of those he was about to leave behind.
While Wen Qing organised her family and their belongings, Wei Ying collected his letters and gave them to Granny Wen.
“Keep these safe for me,” he told her as she tucked them in her robes. “I want to send them once we’re too far away for anyone to trace them back to us.”
He took a-Yuan in a tight hug and pressed kisses all over his face while he giggled and protested. “You be good and go with Granny and Uncle Four.”
“You’re not coming?” he asked, his lip wobbling in a pout.
He gave his son another kiss. “Of course, I am. I have to stay on this side until everyone else is through, though. Otherwise, the portal will collapse, and we can’t have that, can we?”
“Nope,” he said, though the bottom lip still stuck out. “Can I stay with you?”
“Ah, uh. You have to go through and pick out the perfect spot for our new house,” he replied and bopped a-Yuan’s button nose.
“Oh, right,” he replied with a pat to his own head.
Wei Ying kissed him one more time before passing him back to Granny Wen. Once they passed safely through the gateway, He strolled away to check the wards, whistling and twirling his dizi as he went.
When he got closer to the Burial Ground border, he grimaced at the sight of more distorted pockets. They were running out of time. He turned away from the writhing compartments of time and raced back to the settlement as fast as his healing body would let him.
“We have to go,” he exclaimed as he reached Wen Qing.
“What do you mean? We’re not done. There are still more supplies to go,” she insisted while the Wen Remnants continued to pass furniture and other goods through.
He bent over to catch his breath before continuing. “The, the time bubble is collapsing. I don’t know how much longer it will last. Do we have the basics moved?”
She nodded, her eyes wide. “Y-yes. We passed the food and cooking supplies first, then my medicines and your things. We even put through everyone’s personal items. All we have left are some tables and bedding.”
Wei Ying shook his head. “We’ll have to leave them. Get the people through. I’ll try to hold the bubble here for as long as I can.”
“I don’t understand,” she said as she pushed back her hair with a shaking hand. “Can’t we go through even if the bubble collapses?”
Stumbling back a step, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe, but the pockets of time are clashing with each other. It’s not failing smoothly. I don’t know what will happen to anything living if it’s caught in the adjustment.”
They met each other’s eyes before she shook off her fear and nodded. “All right, everyone. Forget the rest. We’re out of time,” she glanced toward the sky as though she expected it to fall, “literally. You two, gather the rest of the family and get them through.” She gestured to a couple of the younger remnants.
Wei Ying grabbed her arm. “Go, Qing-jie. I’ll make sure everyone goes through.” For a moment, he thought she was going to protest. “I have to stay until the end, remember?”
Her jaw tensed as she stared at him. “You better make it through, Didi, or I will never forgive you.”
A chuckle escaped him. He held up three fingers. “I promise I will do everything I can to join you.”
Once she finally stepped through, he blew her a kiss. As she stood by Wen Ning’s side, she waved at him, her fond expression breaking his heart. She was the sister of his soul. As long as she lived, the rest of them would be fine.
When only a few people remained, he ran through the camp, checking for stragglers. The wind picked up as the time bubble shrunk. He ducked flying debris on his way back to the array. This was not how he expected the shift back to go. At most, he figured images would wobble a little before settling back to the unaltered reality. Instead, the earth shook as loud cracks echoed through the air.
He reached the doors to the Demon Slaughtering Cave and stumbled inside right as the wind ripped the wooden slabs off their metal hinges. The force around him pushed him to his knees.
A few feet away, the array pulsed while the image of his loved ones beckoned to him from the other side. His robes whipped around him as he crawled toward the ring of safety. If he could get through, the connection would collapse and everyone would be safe.
The ground beneath him bucked as stones rained down from the ceiling. He cried out in despair when more and more of the palace fell around him.
Waves of pain shot through his body, sucking up any dark energy inside him. Despite being in agony, he reached for the array only to watch helplessly as it flickered and went out.
Sobbing, he curled himself into a ball, willing the Burial Ground to swallow him whole.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he shouted endlessly, though no one could hear him. Half hidden by one of the abandoned tables, he apologised over and over until darkness finally took him.
Beyond the borders of the Burial Ground, the Jin cultivators assigned to wait for the Wen siblings stared in shock as the entire area before them seemed to fold in on itself. The sheer immensity of the sound was enough to send them to their knees.
This had to be some demonic weapon of the Yiling Patriarch to end the world. Huddled together, they didn’t know whether to run or accept their fate. Finally, a tremendous crack and deafening roar sent them scrambling. They jumped on their swords to fly away as fast as they could before death caught up with them.
Lan Wangji clenched his fingers tight around Bichen as he stood by his brother’s side. He didn’t want to be at Jin Zixuan’s funeral. The young heir’s death was sad, but listening to Jin Guangshan spout nonsense only made him burn with anger. He wanted to leave and go to the Burial Ground. If he could somehow reach Wei Ying, he might be able to save his love from the terrible fate hurtling toward him.
Xichen wouldn’t look at him, his Xiongzhang’s attention on Meng Yao instead.
Jin Guangyao hovered by his horrible father’s side, simpering and bowing with the perfect amount of grief on his face.
Wangji didn’t trust him, though he couldn’t say why. Something about the man screamed dishonesty to him. Unfortunately, what he thought didn’t matter. His brother adored the Jin and would hear no word against him, not that Wangji ever said anything. He wouldn’t. Such gossip was against the rules and beneath him. No, the man’s actions would have to prove out one way or the other.
While the Jin leader shouted his outrage from his throne, Lady Jiang held her baby as she knelt before her husband’s casket and cried. Jiang Wanyin remained by her side, his bitter glare daring anyone to say anything.
He felt sorry for the child. A hundred days old and already without a father. It stirred a familiar grief in him. There had to be a mistake. Wei Ying wouldn’t do something like this on purpose. His shijie was everything to him.
Had demonic cultivation truly changed him so much? No. He couldn’t believe that.
As those in attendance waited for Jin Guangshan’s inappropriate tirade to finish, Wangji caught Jiang Wanyin’s eye. The Jiang leader glared daggers at him, but he didn’t care.
Whatever loyalty or affection his beloved might have for the man, he always fell short in Wangji’s opinion. Jiang Wanyin didn’t deserve Wei Ying’s devotion, let alone his love. His bitterness and anger proved over and over just how little the Jiang knew about honour and righteousness.
Though Jin Guangshan was winding up for one loud finish of outrage and revenge, he never got there. Instead, the doors to the hall burst open and a dozen Jin cultivators scrambled inside as though a thousand yao nipped at their heels. Panting and crying out, they fell in a heap before the entire gathering.
“What’s the meaning of this?” the Jin leader shouted, his already red face turning purple. “How dare you interrupt the funeral of my son?”
“We’re sorry,” they cried as they kowtowed as one. “It’s, it’s the Yiling Patriarch. The Burial Ground. He - he…”
“He what?!” Jin Guangshan demanded, slamming his fist against the arm of his chair.
Lan Wangji didn’t wait to find out. He slipped out of the building while everyone else was distracted. His heart pounded in his chest as he flew toward Yiling as fast as he could.
The sun had almost set when he reached the trail to the Burial Ground. Yet, a huge crowd of people blocked his way forward. It was as though the entire population of Yiling had gathered there. Young and old, they stared and whispered as they pointed toward the mountain of death where his beloved hid.
Despite his aversion to crowds, he forced his way through, only stopping when he reached the dividing path between the Wen sanctuary and the road to Yiling. He almost dropped his sword at the vision before him.
The wall of dead trees and tangled underbrush were gone. In their place, black trees filled with green leaves swayed in a gentle wind. Beneath their branches, wildflowers grew alongside bushes ladened with bright berries. Where once flowed murky water filled with decay and rot, a clear river sparkled in the remains of the day’s sunlight.
Wangji stepped forward, following the path that once was difficult to traverse. All around him, the land blossomed as though spring had finally come to the cursed mountain. Whatever happened to the resentful energy, nothing remained, no fierce corpses, angry spirits, demonic yao, or otherwise. The land was clean as far as he could see, bursting with life and revitalised energy.
Whatever else Wei Ying had done in his life, this was a miracle.
His amazement faltered and faded as he finally reached the clearing where the settlement once stood. It was gone. All of it, the houses, fields of radishes, everything. Nothing remained, not even the people.
Bichen fell from his fingers. Wei Ying.
No, he couldn’t be gone, not his beloved. A crater the size of a canyon hollowed him out inside. This wasn’t happening. His zhiji wouldn’t leave him like this.
Tears trickled down his cheeks, and he did nothing to stop them. No matter how beautiful this place now was, he couldn’t find it in his heart to appreciate Wei Ying’s sacrifice.
“Pretty-gege sad?”
Wangji’s breath caught in his throat as he raised his gaze to see a small, dirty child standing before him, a red ribbon caught in his wild hair, and the remnants of black robes hanging from his thin frame.
A-Yuan?
No. Wen Yuan’s eyes were brown. These shone like silver stars.
“Wei Ying?” he gasped, his brain freezing.
The child nodded and donned a smile as bright as the sun. “Yep. That’s me.”
It took Wangji a moment to comprehend the situation. The tiny Wei Ying shifted from foot to foot as he twisted his hands in the robes barely covering him.
“Is Pretty-gege okay? Did a-Ying do something wrong?”
“No,” he finally managed. “Gege is fine,” he added, realising his first answer confused the boy. “A-Ying didn’t do anything wrong. Gege is happy he found you.”
“Oh.” Wei Ying screwed up his features in a thoughtful expression and tapped the side of his nose. “Did Mama and Baba send you to find me?”
Wangji didn’t know if he could answer that; the right words wouldn’t spill from his lips. “Mn,” he managed before picking the child up.
Wei Ying giggled and leaned close as his stomach grumbled. “Don’t worry, Pretty-gege, it always sounds like that,” he said and patted his tummy.
“Mn.” Wangji couldn’t say anything else. All the words stuck in his chest and pressed against his heart. Instead, he went back to where Bichen lay and took to the sky.
Wei Ying squealed in delight as the rose. His little arms wrapped around Wangji’s neck and he clung to him.
Wangji wasn’t certain what he was going to do. All he knew was that his beloved was more vulnerable than ever. Whatever happened to the Burial Ground or the Wen Remnants, he would figure it out later. For now, he needed to feed Wei Ying and get him some proper clothes.
His first thought was to head for Cloud Recesses, but that was too far away. Pretty soon, it would be too dark to fly, especially with a child in his arms. Besides, he couldn’t bring Wei Ying there looking anything like the Yiling Patriarch.
As much as he didn’t like to admit it, his uncle would not let the former demonic cultivator in no matter how small he was, not looking like this anyway. His brother would help him. He was sure of that.
But what of Jin Guangyao? Xichen told him everything, even things Wangji shared with him. He went to the man for help with everything. Despite how much that hurt, he didn’t begrudge his brother the friendship. Their lives were lonely enough growing up, and their uncle’s adherence to the rules didn’t leave room for doubt.
No, Xiong-zhang had too much weight on his shoulders already without adding to them.
Unsure of what else to do, he stopped outside the nearest town and walked to the closest decent inn. Wei Ying yawned sleepily and rested his head on Wangji’s shoulder. “No more flying?”
“No more flying,” he repeated, rubbing the child’s back.
He booked a room and asked for food and a bath.
“And clothes for the little one?” the innkeeper asked, gesturing to Wei Ying’s pile of rags.
“Please.”
The older woman smiled kindly. “He looks about the size of my youngest, though quite thinner. Poor thing. So many orphans roam the streets since the war. It’s good of you to take this one in.”
Wangji nodded and went to his room, happy to close the door on the rest of the world. He needed time to think. If only Wei Ying was old enough to help him. Then again, if he was his proper age, Wangji wouldn’t need his help.
“Pretty-gege okay?” Wei Ying asked, peering into his face.
Before Wangji could answer, the servants arrived with food, a tub, water, and fresh clothing small enough for Wei Ying. After they left, he hesitated as he and Wei Ying eyed each other. His desire for cleanliness made him want to give the child a bath first, but food seemed more important. Besides, he would probably have to clean Wei Ying up again after he ate. Satisfied with his sensible course of action, he ushered the child to the table and served him a healthy portion of rice and vegetables with a serving of fried tofu.
Wei Ying blinked at him. “A-Ying can wait until Pretty-gege is full first. I don’t mind eating what’s left.”
An arrow of sorrow sank into Wangji’s heart. “There is plenty for both of us,” he managed despite the lump stuck in his throat. “Eat.”
The tiny fingers fiddled with his chopsticks until he worked them into the proper hold. “Got it,” he squealed and dug in. Despite his sheer determination, half the rice ended up everywhere except in his mouth. He did better with the vegetables and tofu, but still ended up with a good portion in his lap.
“Don’t worry, Pretty-gege. A-Ying won’t waste any,” he exclaimed before scooping up the mess with his hands and stuffing it in his mouth.
“Don’t,” Wangji said more harshly than he intended. He caught Wei Ying’s hand before he could eat another fist full of dirty food.
The boy froze, his eyes widening in fear. “A-Ying is sorry,” he whispered and attempted to bow, though Wangji still held his hand.
“There’s no need for sorry. Wei Ying didn’t do anything wrong. If you are still hungry, you can have more. There’s no need to eat dirty food.” The voice of his uncle admonished him as he spoke. He chose to ignore it, happy enough to get the words free from the twisted anxiety aching in his chest.
“Isn’t that wasteful?” Wei Ying asked, his head tilting to the side in curiosity.
“Mn, but Wei Ying’s health is more important. Dirty food might make Wei Ying sick,” he said, hoping the logic would reach the child.
His tiny beloved giggled. “Silly gege. A-Ying has a strong stomach. It can take anything.” He parted the rags to reveal his scrawny body. “See?” he said and poked at his distended abdomen.
The signs of starvation pierced Wangji with another arrow. Was this truly what Wei Ying’s life was like as a child? No wonder he thought Lotus Pier was home.
Wangji scooped him up from the table and took him behind the privacy screen. “Time for bath,” he said as he removed the remains of the black robes. The boy wiggled his toes and yipped as he went into the warm water.
“Ooh, nice,” he cooed as he splashed around.
“Hold still,” Wangji said and set forth to free the red ribbon from the tangled strands of hair.
Wei Ying blew bubbles and patted the water while he worked, amusing himself with a story about two fish. After a great deal of soap and internal cursing, Wangji finally removed the ribbon and washed the dirt from the nest of locks spreading around the boy.
Once Wei Ying was clean, he wrapped the boy in a towel before settling behind him to comb his hair. Fortunately, he kept his travel pack with him in his qiankun sleeve, so he had quality oil to help him work through the snarled mess. He took it as a challenge to his patience as he worked in the oil and managed to wrangle the wild mane into a decent braid. By the time he finished, Wei Ying was almost asleep in his lap.
After he coaxed the child into the simple sleeping clothes of basic brown, Wangji tucked him into bed. He brushed a few stray strands from Wei Ying’s face and couldn’t resist giving him a kiss on the forehead.
“Pretty-gege, what’s your name?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes. “Does a-Ying know you?”
“Zhan-gege, you can call me Zhan-gege. Wei Ying knows me, though you don’t remember.”
The boy plucked at Wangji’s sleeve. “Mm. I understand. Zhan-gege feels like I know him, but I can’t ‘member.” He petted Wangji’s cheek, his touch soft and gentle. “There are lots of things filling a-Ying’s head right now. Most of them aren’t nice. How come the bad mem’ries crowd out the good ones?”
Wangjie wanted to answer. He wanted to offer a solution or a code of conduct to heal Wei Ying’s hurts. Unfortunately, every one of the three thousand Lan rules fell short.
What would his uncle tell him?
He would admonish him for letting the room fall into such a messy state for so long. The dishes still sat on the table covered in rice and bits of food. Remnants of their evening meal dotted the floor too, leaving a trail from Wei Ying’s seat to the pile of rags by the tub filled with filthy water.
No, his uncle would not be happy with him for indulging a child instead of teaching him the discipline of a clean environment.
An orderly home fosters an orderly mind.
That wasn’t Wei Ying. His beloved didn’t understand the concept of order and method. His thoughts shifted too quickly for that, always creating things that stunned Wangji.
Still, years of living in Cloud Recesses had trained Wangji to instinctively act upon such disciplines. He sighed and moved to tidy the place when Wei Ying’s small hand clung to his sleeve.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me,” he begged, his tired eyes huge with worry.
Wangji sat back down and ran a hand over the boy’s head. “Zhan-gege won’t leave Wei Ying, ever.”
“Promise?”
He nodded, unable to refuse. “Promise. Now, sleep.”
As his zhiji closed his eyes, Wangji hummed their song long after soft snores emanated from the tiny body. After, he lay beside him, unable to detach his sleeve from the tangle of fingers clutching the fabric.
A sigh rose from the depths of his core and slipped through his lips. The cleaning could wait until the morning. His mother’s voice assured him some things were more important.
Despite his internal Lan clock, Wangji couldn’t sleep. Where could he go if not Cloud Recesses?
Lotus Pier was not an option. He didn’t trust Jiang Wanyin with a fully grown Wei Ying, let alone such a vulnerable child one. Lady Jiang might help him, but she was grieving her husband while tending to her newborn child. Plus, she lived at Koi Tower and had little power of her own.
He supposed Nie Huaisang was an option, though Nie Mingjue was Xiong-zhang’s oldest friend and sworn brother to Jin Guangyao. Did the Nie heir tell his brother everything? Doubtful. How much help could he be, though?
Luo Qingyang would help, but he had no idea where she was.
No. Cloud Recesses was still his best choice.
If he came in through the back mountain, he might be able to bring Wei Ying to the Jingshi without anyone seeing him. He would have to tell Xiong-zhang at some point. Maybe he could pass Wei Ying off as his own.
His spirits sank as he drifted off. He wasn’t raised for subterfuge
Jin Guangshan paced the floor of his office. Nothing was going right. First, he lost his only legitimate heir; then that blasted Wei Wuxian disappeared with all the Wen Remnants and the Tiger Seal. Not only that, but he left behind a pristine, healed Burial Ground in his wake.
No amount of feminine pampering would help this disaster.
He never should have listened to Meng Yao - no matter what he had to do in public, he would not call him Guangyao in private. Leave it to the son of a prostitute to mess up a perfectly good murder plot.
The soft knock at his door set his teeth on edge. There was no lovely maiden on the other side, longing for the privilege of his attention. No. Only that bastard knocked like that.
“Come in,” he barked, his head aching. Maybe giving the ingrate a smack or two would help his mood.
“Father?” Meng Yao called as the door inched open.
By all the heavens and hells, couldn’t the creature enter like a man instead of simpering like some forlorn woman?
“What do you want?” he demanded, grabbing the interloper by the collar and dragging him farther into the room. He dumped his disappointing offspring on the floor, heedless of any pain he might inflict. “You better have good news.”
“I’m sorry, Father, but there are no further reports to add yet,” he said, kowtowing as though that would make a difference.
Guangshan kicked the useless bastard in the side. “Then why are you here instead of scouring the Burial Ground for anything useful?”
“While there isn’t any news yet, I have thought of a way we could turn this in our favour.”
That caught his attention. He stretched out on his elegant couch and motioned for Meng Yao to continue.
The bastard rose from the floor and knelt before him. Just out of kicking range, he noticed with a disapproving snort.
“If we set forth the rumour that the heavens smote the Yiling Patriarch and his Wen army for the death of Zixuan, then the cleansing of the Burial Ground would look like a celestial blessing on your reign as Chief Cultivator and the Jin sect as a whole.”
Guangshan preened at the thought. “A celestial blessing and divine retribution.”
“No one would dare question your leadership for fear of displeasing the heavens.”
A thrill ran through Guangshan, making him long for his women.
“Even the lowest of the low would see you as a benevolent leader favoured by the gods and goddesses alike.”
He sighed with delight, liking where his thoughts were taking him.
“With the right push, we could even claim the land for the Jin clan.”
Snickering, Guangshan linked his hands behind his head and leaned against a soft pillow. “Mmm. Jin Guangshan Mountain. I like that.” He gestured toward the door with his foot. “See it done.”
The bastard bowed, and Guangshan gave a miniscule nod. He supposed Meng Yao earned a reprieve. “If this fails, Meng Yao, only your head will roll down the steps of Koi Tower this time. Now, send me my ladies.”
Jiang Wanyin paced the elegant quarters of his jiejie’s marital home. The baby on his shoulder had finally fallen asleep after two hours of incessant crying. If Jin Ling continued this behaviour into adulthood, he would turn out worse than the Peacock.
The thought made him slump in helplessness.
How could Wei Wuxian take away the one person in Jiejie’s life that made her truly happy?
The baby snuffled into his neck.
Okay, one of two people. Did babies count when all they could do was cry, soil themselves, eat, and sleep?
A tiny hand flexed and gripped at his collar.
Something in his heart shifted at that. Yeah, they did.
The baby bottom sitting in his hand rumbled and squirted while the baby top belched and spewed goo against his neck and inside his robes. A horrible stench assaulted his nose, almost making him gag in response.
Did they really, though?
Holding a squirming Jin Ling as far away from himself as he could, he strode over to the chest where his sister kept her infant’s supplies.
“Be quiet,” he ordered after placing his nephew on a folded blanket on the floor. “And don’t move.”
Big, frowning eyes blinked up at him as Jin Ling blew bubbles of saliva and goo from his mouth. The icky stream slid down his chubby cheek and into his tufts of black hair.
Wanyin’s stomach churned. For a second, he thought of calling one of Jiejie’s attendant’s to deal with the mess, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He could do this for his sister and her child. They were the only family he had left, and he would be there for them.
The only problem was, he didn’t know what to do. Did he attempt a bath? The thing trying to find its own toes was filthy from top to bottom. How did one bathe a baby? He’d have to take the clothes off. That was obvious. Those he could give to a maid.
He needed water too and a cloth. Soap? Did one use soap on a baby?
With a heavy sigh, he rubbed at his forehead and ran a hand through his hair, realising too late the amount of bodily baby fluids soiled his fingers. His internal line of curses occupied his thoughts for quite a while as he scrambled to his feet to grab a basin and a full jug.
Terrified of leaving the brat alone for too long, he wiped his face with his sleeve and hurried back. Okay, he had only gone a few steps away, but who knew what disaster would happen next if he went any further? Why take a chance?
Wanyin knelt back down by Jin Ling’s side. “Look, Kid. I’m new at this, so we are going to have to get through this together.” He peeled back the soiled robes and gagged. “Oh, Damn.”
His nephew rewarded him with a disapproving scowl. “Ah, right.” Fuck. Jiejie was not going to appreciate him teaching her baby how to swear.
He stared up at the ceiling and tried not to breathe as he tried to dab away the mess. Come on, Jiang Cheng. You’re a cultivator, a sect leader, and a war hero. You can do this. He peeked down at the tiny body just in time to avoid getting an eyeful of pee. The kid was a fountain. “The sooner you learn to use a chamber pot, the better.”
After more effort than Wanyin thought changing a child so small could take, he finally managed to clean, wrap up his bottom in some kind of diaper, and wrangle Jin Ling’s wiggling form into some fresh robes. He tossed the soiled stuff in a nearby basket before sitting by his nephew to wipe his face and hair.
“Ah, a-Ling, this is all wrong. Your mother is torn up with grief over your father.” And probably that traitor. She always adored him; even when he ruined their lives.
“You know, this wasn’t how life was supposed to go. You were supposed to have both parents, and grandparents on both sides. My parents would have loved you. They would have doted on you. I’m sure they would have. Now, all you have is Madame Jin and her fuuu, ah, horrible husband.”
“Nice catch.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Madame Jin’s voice. “Sorry,” he said and leaped to his feet. “Sorry, sorry, Madame Jin. I didn’t, ah..” He realised he had no idea what to say, especially with a stinky rag in his hands, bodily fluids still in his hair, and soiled robes.
Some sect lord he made. He was barely an adult himself; he was supposed to have time to learn, help.
She glanced over at Jiejie’s sleeping form and tucked a strand of hair from his jiejie’s face. “Poor dear.” Her attention turned back to him. “You don’t look much better.”
Madame Jin flicked back the sleeves of her white mourning robes and scooped Jin Ling off the floor. “Not bad. Certainly better than that fuuu husband of mine.” She arched an eyebrow, her youthful face betrayed by her weary hazel eyes. “It’s all right. At this age, the odd swear or two won’t stick. Besides, he is my fucking husband.” A bitter sigh slipped from her as she sat on a nearby stool and adjusted Jin Ling’s clothes. “All the time,” she added under her breath; the words soaked in bitterness.
“I want to take them to Lotus Pier for a while,” he managed, straightening his shoulders. “Give Jiejie a break, some peace somewhere quieter, where she isn’t reminded of Jin Zixuan all the time.”
“And no memories linger there?”
None worth remembering, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Instead, he tried to maintain some sort of leaderly attitude.
Madame Jin chuckled while rocking back and forth, making Jin Ling yawn. “Oh, you do remind me of your mother when you posture like that. She used to practise such imperious poses when we were young.”
After a long exhale, she patted the stool next to her. “I might just come with you. That second-hand son he’s taken in is whispering new rumours, spinning his sticky webs everywhere. Can’t stand him, simpering toad.”
“Rumours?” he asked, wondering if he was supposed to offer her tea or something. Sure, he outranked her now, but she was his elder. Then again, did he have a higher ranking, or were they equals? If they were equals, he was younger, so he should serve. But he was a sect leader; sect leaders didn’t pour people tea. Sure, his father did, but that was only with family. Jiangs fended for themselves. Then again, she was family, of sorts.
An ache blossomed behind his eyes.
She solved the problem by pouring tea for both of them. “Yes. Apparently, the cleansing of the Burial Ground is some divine blessing upon my fucking husband’s righteousness.”
He choked. “What?”
“I know.” She snorted. “Ridiculous. Jin Guangshan and righteousness, I’m not sure even the Heavens can make that miracle happen. There’s more to it, but I can’t repeat it. Churns my stomach too much. So, when do we leave?”
Wanyin gripped his cup until his fingers turned white. “Whenever you want.”