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“Er-ge.”
Lan Xichen blinks, and turns towards the man sitting opposite him on the low table.
He’s greeted by Jin Guangyao’s usual gentle smile, though it is marred the clear worry in his eyes. “Is there something that troubles Er-ge?” he says softly. “It’s rare that Er-ge would get so distracted.”
He smiles slightly, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. A thought came to my mind, but it’s gone.”
Jin Guangyao’s lips curve slightly. His face has lost most of the softness of his youth, cheeks less round, his chin sharper, but the mellowness of his smile and the slight twinkle in his eyes never fails to sooth him in the past decade. “Er-ge’s probably working too hard, perhaps it’s time for Er-ge to take his own advice to me and try to delegate more,” he teases.
The First Jade of Lan chuckles. “Perhaps,” he concedes, sipping his tea with a slight smile.
He can’t remember what had caused him to be so distracted, which is unusual. His mind has been trained since adolescence to keep track of every line of thought while being focused on the present.
Maybe it really is a sign of his fatigue. He shouldn’t let it disturb the peace between him and his San-di, especially when this is one of the rare times they could meet recently.
The two sworn brothers try to meet as often as they could, but with Jin Guangyao’s numerous undertakings as the Chief Cultivator and his own duties as the sect leader, it has been hard to find time to meet.
A sudden scent suddenly permeates the air, pricking his nose. Lan Xichen wrinkles his nose at the sudden scent and raises his head. Seeing his sworn brother still taking a sip from his own cup, he takes a discreet sniff, puzzled. “Did you change the incense?”
Jin Guangyao looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“The scent. I noticed there is a new scent in the air, I was wondering if San-di just burn a new incense.”
Jin Guangyao continues to look at him strangely. “No, I didn’t. A new scent? I don’t smell anything.”
‘How could his usually sharp San-di miss it?’
“It’s rather strong, and-” He pauses. “The smell is gone now.” He turns his head around, taking a whiff of the air in light confusion. ‘What kind of scent just fades away without a trace?’
“Er-ge,” a gentle voice calls out. When Lan Xichen turns to face the other, he can see San-di’s eyes filled with warmth and care. “Perhaps it’s time to retire. It’s my fault; I’ve kept Er-ge too long and taking advantage of your indulgence.”
“No, no,” Lan Xichen hurriedly denies. “I’m not tired.”
He’s not sure why he is being so out of sorts. Surely Jin Guangyao’s counsel is right, as it so often is, and that he’s more tired than he realised, thus his earlier inattentiveness. Perhaps his San-di is also tired, and still keeps him company to be polite. That is very much in character for his youngest sworn brother. But his breath catches at his throat at the idea of ending their meeting early, the very thought of it abhorrent.
“But, Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao chuckles, as his dimples dance at the corner his mouth along with the light sparkle in warm amber. “It’s not like we can’t meet again later. We just need to find some time. I can probably delegate more tasks to my assistants, and switch some meetings around…”
Lan Xichen still feels strangely unwilling. There is a writhing mass of unease within him; soft, indiscernible whispers that pull into the aching hollow. It is a feeling that is oddly familiar, yet he is hard pressed to recall when he had the same anxiety. The years have been kind to his sect and the cultivation world as a whole, thanks to his San-di, that such uneasiness is rather novel. Not since Da-ge-
…San-di is right, there are still more meetings to come. There is no reason for him to behave like this, it is unbecoming to one of his position. He can still hear the echoes of his uncle’s lectures.
With a short exhale, Lan Xichen straightens himself. Gazing into the ever watchful eyes of his sworn brother, he smiles pleasantly. “You are right, it’s probably best that I leave now, before the hour of the Pig[1] approaches, or my uncle will reprimand me again.”
Jin Guangyao’s lips twitch, suppressing his chuckles, but his eyes are full of mirth. “We can’t have that, of course,” he demures. “What would the young disciples think, having their Sect Leader scolded by the Grandmaster like an errant student?”
Lan Xichen laughs, shaking his head slightly as he rises from his seat, the other following suit. “They would think nothing of it. My uncle would hardly censure himself when he feels that a correction is necessary, even if I was the Sect Leader.”
Jin Guangyao’s chuckles as well. “Indeed, I can’t imagine Grandmaster Lan would ever hold himself back for any reason.” The sparkles of merriment in his gaze settles into light pools of molten gold. “I’m sorry that Er-ge can’t stay the night. Perhaps we should arrange for a longer meeting next time.”
Lan Xichen smiles back. “I look forward to it,”he says, full of sincerity. Hesitant, he adds, “...San-di”.
Jin Guangyao smiles, a perfect visage of warm congeniality. “Goodbye, Er-ge. I shall be here waiting til we meet again.”
Lan Xichen pauses by the door, frowning at the odd statement. He turns, taking in his sworn brother’s unwavering smile before he nods, stepping out into the darkness beyond.
____________________________________________________________________________
“Er-ge.”
Lan Xichen blinks, looking up from the tea he has been nursing.
“Yes, San-di?”
Jin Guangyao tilts his head slightly, scrutinising him. “It seems that Er-ge is rather distracted today.”
Was he? Lan Xichen looks down into the swirls of the deep brown liquid in his hand, trying to remember what they were discussing previously, but his mind draws a blank.
“Er-ge?” Jin Guangyao’s brows furrow, clearly concerned.
Shaking his head, he simply smiles helplessly at the other man. “My apologies, I didn’t realise I had drifted away from our talk. Please, can you repeat what you said?”
Jin Guangyao shakes his head. “It is nothing of great importance. Rather, I’m curious what would preoccupy Er-ge’s mind to such an extent that you would visibly lose focus?”
He shrugs lightly. “I can’t recall.” Lan Xichen quietly admits. It is a rather terrifying thing to admit; he is not used to his mind drifting away like a ship without its anchor. ”No matter, please let us resume our previous conversation.”
Jin Guangyao looks at him for a long moment, his stare penetrating him to his very core. Then his eyes softens. “Alright, Er-ge.”
He continues, talking about his most recent undertaking. Lan Xichen finds it hard to focus on the details, yet his San-di’s soothing voice puts him at ease, like a balm to his soul.
He listens and responds when needed, content in letting his sworn brother leading the conversation. He gets lost in their usual push and pull, a dance of words swathed in camaraderie and care, when he notices the scent.
“It’s that scent again.” Lan Xichen surveys his surroundings, puzzled.
“Scent?” Jin Guangyao inquires. “What scent?”
Lan Xichen turns towards him, incredulous. “You don’t smell that? It’s stronger than last time.”
Jin Guangyao examines him once more. Unsure what his sworn brother is looking for, Lan Xichen holds his gaze, unwavering. Finally, Jin Guangyao says, carefully, “I don’t smell anything, Er-ge. And I don’t recall you mentioned this scent before.”
Lan Xichen’s confusion grows. “But I did mention it before.” Didn’t he? Before, he would be absolutely certain in his answer. Recently though, he finds that his mind is unreliable, incapable of grasping any thought for long, and his memories fragmented.
The only time he feels closest to himself is these fleeting moments, where he sits across his sworn brother as they smile at each, drinking tea, playing wei qi and indulging in each other’s company.
Jin Guangyao is the picture of calm serenity as he sips his tea, looking up at him through his lashes. “Maybe it will help if you can describe the scent,” he murmurs into his cup. “What is it like?”
Lan Xichen takes in a slow breath. This time, the scent does not fade away completely, traces of it still lingering in the air. “It’s rather sweet, floral. With a hint of sharp coolness.” Like the chill in Cloud Recesses. He ponders. “There’s also a hint of muskiness, like damp earth. But I think this wasn’t present before.”
He glances at Jin Guangyao, who looks impassive; a perfect embodiment of still waters.It strikes Lan Xichen that his San-di can be very hard to read even with the decade they spent together. Unlike Da-ge-
Lan Xichen clears his throat, looking down at his cup. His tea has gone cold now, or has it been cold for awhile? He can’t remember whether he had refilled it earlier.
“I’m sorry, it was nothing, I shouldn’t be so bothered with a trivial matter.”
“Nothing that bothers Er-ge is trivial,” Jin Guangyao declares calmly. “I confess, I have little knowledge in flowers unlike my late brother, but I will ask the gardeners whether they know which flowers give off a similar scent. Then at least perhaps part of this mysterious scent will be resolved.
Lan Xichen shakes his head with a sigh. “You don’t have to bother, San-di. It’s a trivial matter, not worth wasting your precious time for. I was simply curious.”
“On the contrary, I’m now curious myself. A mysterious scent that Er-ge can smell and I can’t? That alone bears investigating.” Jin Guangyao asserts. “On that last note, I think it’s almost time for the hour of the Pig.”
Lan Xichen startles. “Already?” It almost feels like as if no time has passes at all.
San-di’s lips quirk up. “Well, we did spend some time describing Er-ge’s scent,” he says teasingly.
Lan Xichen does not respond to his tease, still somewhat befuddled. He could’ve sworn that the time did not pass by so quickly…did it?
At Jin Guangyao’s expectant look, he takes a breath and rises from seat reluctantly. “I should leave now, or I will be late in returning to Cloud Recesses.”
His sworn brother nods, saying softly. “Goodbye, Er-ge. Until we meet again, I shall be waiting here for you.”
Lan Xichen tightens his grip on Shuoyue. His sworn brother is simply making a figurative speech, of course, saying he’s looking forward to their next meeting. And yet, that sentence sent a chill down his spine.
“Why did you-,” he exhales, “Nevermind, goodbye…” The name he tries to call him got stuck in his throat. “...San-di.”
Lan Xichen turns and passes through the door. Outside, the night sky is inky black, threatening to swallow everything whole.
____________________________________________________________________________
“Er-ge.”
Lan Xichen lifts his gaze from the wei qi board that he was contemplating, absently running over the smooth surface of the black stone.
“Er-ge has been studying the board for an unusually long time,” Jin Guangyao points out gently.
“Is Er-ge considering a new strategy, or is there something else occupying your mind?’
Lan Xichen forces himself to smile. It’s usually easier to pretend than this, he thinks.
“It’s nothing,” he says half-heartedly. “I’m merely having some self-reflection.”
“Oh? I never thought that there would come a time where Er-ge, Zewu-jun and the First Jade of Lan himself, would ever need to do so.”
“Everyone needs to examinine themselves once in a while,” Lan Xichen says evenly. There is a sense of calm over what he’s about to do, a feeling of inevitability as sure as the rise of the moon and the sun. “Do no be haughty and complacent.”
Jin Guangyao inclines his head. “The Lan sect’s rules indeed contain great wisdom,” he murmurs, as his delicate fingers holds and swirls the dark concoction. Lan Xichen thinks it’s the pu-erh tea this time, though the signature earthy smell is absent.
“Did you remember the scent I mentioned to your previously?” he asks abruptly.
Jin Guangyao pauses mid-sip. Lan Xichen notes idly that although he has taken several mouthfuls of the tea, he had not once refilled the cup.
Jin Guangyao tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “Scent?”
Lan Xichen nods. “It was a scent that I can smell at least twice before each time we meet, but you had never caught a whiff of it. It had seemingly come out of nowhere, and you mentioned you would ask your gardener after I mentioned some floral notes within the scent.”
His sworn brother frowns as he ponders over the matter. “Well, I don’t recall any mention of such a scent by Er-ge” he says apologetically. “But I can summon a gardener now and they can-”
“There’s no need.” Lan Xichen cuts in, a shocking rudeness that would surely draw a scowl and a lecture from his uncle. And yet in this situation, he is sure even his uncle would be at a loss at the appropriate reaction. “I know where it’s from, and why I can smell it.”
Jin Guangyao looks intrigued. “Oh?”
“It’s the smell of chrysanthemums.”
There is no reaction from Jin Guangyao, save from his usual placid smile. “Chrysanthemums? A symbol of happiness and vitality. Did Er-ge somehow catches the scent from a lingering perfume? Or perhaps a freshly brewed pot of tea? Some of the clan members love to partake of the tea.”
“No,” Lan Xichen refutes. His voice is flat, in complete contrast to the deep void within him. There is no taking it back once it’s all out, he muses.
“It’s the smell of white chrysanthemums[2] I bought to mourn a friend.”
Jin Guangyao’s face could have been carved in stone. His smile appear permanently etched, eerily resembling the Guanyin Statue in the temple where everything ended.
“There was no one alive that would mourn him,” Lan Xichen says quietly. The void within him must have grown now, as he feels an ache. Or perhaps he has finally stop feeling the numbness that had shrouded him the moment he allowed himself to stop the self-denial. “Perhaps his nephew would, but having a tablet in the ancestral hall where he had confessed to murdering his own brethren would draw the ire of everyone in his clan, and his new position as the clan leader is shaky still, despite Jiang Wanyin’s support.”
“So he gave the tablet to me.”
Lan Xichen sucks in a deep breath, bracing himself. His voice shakes a little, but grows steadier as he continues.
“At first, I wasn’t certain where to put the tablet. I can not placed it anywhere within the grounds, nor can I place him in the caves along with the others, because he wasn’t a Lan. So I brought him with me into seclusion.”
He carefully places a stone on the board, his fingers tracing lightly over the grids. The expected wooden texture is missing, but even the impression of touching something physical is soothing.
“I performed all the expected rites. I placed chrysanthemum flowers and all the delicacies he used to love. Everything that is expected for a mourning.”
“But I couldn’t mourn you.”
Lan Xichen slowly turn towards the figure sitting opposite him. The perfect smiling figure of Jin Guangyao hadn’t moved since he had laid everything out in the open.
Wei Wuxian had assured him that it would take the form according to his subconscious, just like everything else in the realm.
“You can use it to get closure, Lan Da-ge,” Wei Wuxian had suggested, his face aglow with youth. His features bears uncomfortable resemblance to the one that was lost to him, yet the twinkle in his eyes, the kindness in his gaze is still undeniably the boy from Yunmeng who Wangji has given his heart to.
“There’s already been enough seclusions in this family for several lifetimes, I think it’s better to start a new tradition, don’t you think?”
Lan Xichen knows that Wei Wuxian is doing it mostly for Wangji, but he remains grateful for the opportunity to voice everything in his heart to someone he could no longer reach.
“I had caught glimpses in the darkness in your heart, but I told myself that you must have only done things that are necessary, trusting that you have your reasons. Trusting that if you were ever forced to choose an unsavoury path, you will turn to me as your refuge just as you had been mine.”
Lan Xichen’s hand tightens its grip on his knees, knuckles turning white.
“But at long last, I was only deceiving myself. The kind, generous boy from Yunping who had risked his life to help a stranger were gone. All traces of him seem to have gone from you that you were almost a stranger to me.”
“And yet, in the end, you still pushed me away.”
Clear droplets fall down his cheeks as Lan Xichen looks toward the stationary figure. It is nothing more than an echo of the real person, yet this will have to do.
“I don’t know how to reconcile you with the man you become,” he whispers. “I still can’t forgive you yet I can’t forget either. You were genuinely good once, and I wish to hold on to the memories of you that I still hold dear, without the poison of anger and regret.”
Lan Xichen shudders, slowly rises from the cushion, pushing himself up with the low table. He is completely exhausted, yet strength is returning to him as he heads towards the door. Towards living.
“So, I’ll say goodbye for now, A-Yao. Until we meet again.”
____________________________________________________________________________
“Er-ge.”