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There is a beautiful huli jing locked away in Gentian House.

And baby dragon Lan Zhan thinks he can save him.

The fox spirit’s existence in Cloud Recesses continued to elude him until one cold morning when Lan Zhan found himself waking teary-eyed from a nightmare—a common occurrence now, ever since muqin’s death—and retraced his footsteps right back to the place his mother once called home. After all, it’d long become muscle memory. Lan Zhan could walk to the very place in his sleep.

Cloud Recesses held very little of his mother now. And with every passing year, more traces of her would only fade. This place of hers—Gentian House—was the last thing of hers he had left to hold on to.

And so, the baby dragon, of all eight, tender years of age, made the journey he’d made many times before.

(Even if each time, he would arrive only to silence, and the rooms would be empty; and there would be no one there to greet him.

But still, he would go. With his short, chubby limbs and his rather fat, still-growing dragon tail, he would curl himself up into a little ball on the stone steps where his muqin once sat. He would tuck his head into his arms, let his tail wrap around him, and bury himself in the imaginary warmth. Seeking comfort that would never come.

He did not expect this time to be any different.

For why would it be?)

But on this occasion, as he climbed the steps, his keen little ears indeed twitched.

He’d heard a sound; soft, tiny breaths, coming from just beyond the doorway. Someone was here.

Lan Zhan’s steps slowed. His golden eyes narrowed slightly. His short little claws clenched into fists at his sides.

And then immediately loosened—once he raised his gaze…

…For there was the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes upon.

Behind the windowsill sat a lone fox spirit, with one slender arm propped against the wooden frame. Resting his delicate jaw against his palm, gazing out into the far distance where the mountains lay. The soft moonlight kissed his skin just right, as his sweet silver eyes shimmered beneath the dim sky. He was an ethereal beauty, on all counts. The sort of beauty he only heard about, in the fairytales his mother would tell him about.

And yet, the fox’s eyes looked…noticeably, lost. Distant. Lonely. Just like muqin’s, whenever she thought her A-Zhan wasn’t looking. She was always sad. Harrowing sadness plagued her, like a haunting shadow she couldn’t shake off.

There were other things about the huli jing that were different, however. Looking to be just about xiongzhang’s age—perhaps even slightly younger—the huli jing had long, silken black hair that fell in a loose ponytail down his back, with a pair of fox ears twitching atop his head. The pristine white Gusu Lan robes he’d been forced into looked too large for his thin frame, swallowing him right up. They didn’t suit him. They didn’t belong to him.

Just like he didn’t belong here.

The baby dragon should have left right then and there, and listened to the wise words of his uncle that had been long drilled into his head—“should you ever find danger, Wangji, you turn into the opposite direction, and high-tail it out of there!”—but…

But this didn’t feel very much like danger. No, rather; this was the one good thing that had happened to him in years.

If muqin was gone and never coming back, then…could this beautiful huli jing possibly, maybe, be a gift sent right from the Heavens to fill the growing hole in his soft and tender, baby dragon heart?

It had to be; there was no other explanation for the huli jing’s sudden appearance, otherwise.

Lan Zhan did not even have the strength to make his presence known. He simply stood there, not moving, not breathing; and watched.

With his big and round opalescent gold eyes, unblinking as though he wished not to miss a single second of the beauty before him. As though the huli jing might slip from his grasp the next moment, should he dare to do such a thing.

Eventually, the night winds rushed in, curling around the baby dragon’s small body. His scales had not fully grown out, and so did little to shield him from the cold.

As such, before he could even stop himself…

“AH-CHOO!”

The force of the sneeze even sent him stumbling back a step, the tiny claws on his feet scraping against the stone floor.

The huli jing’s ears perked. He anxiously scanned his immediate vicinity, his voice ringing out like the melodious chime of a bell, “Who’s there?!”

His voice… It was so sweet.

So different from the clipped tones of the elders, the weary sighs of his uncle, or even the fake chuckles from his brother.

When the huli jing’s gaze finally fell upon him, the baby dragon froze. For some reason, Lan Zhan thought—he’d be met with fear, or worse, disgust.

But the huli jing…

Ah, the huli jing was always full of delightful surprises.

Instead of recoiling or turning away, the beautiful fox spirit’s silver eyes lit up—like he’d just seen the first warm light of dawn. Then, he straightened his shoulders, as softness gradually entered his gaze.

“A baby dragon…?” the fox spirit whispered in wonder, cocking his head to the side as he did so, as if utterly marvelling at him.

Lan Zhan wondered what he saw.

His hair was clipped neatly at all times, courtesy of his uncle’s work, and hung just above his shoulders. The tight Gusu Lan forehead ribbon rested firmly against his brow, perfectly knotted and—looking far too serious, for someone so small. The fullness of his round cheeks, still soft and hanging heavy with baby fat, exposed his true youth.

Short, stubbly dragon horns sat atop his head, like tiny buds still waiting to bloom. His stark white robes were much finer than the ones on the huli jing, woven from silks more expensive than most had ever touched. And behind him, curling just slightly at the end, was a small dragon tail twitching—the only telltale sign of his growing nervousness.

(And unmistakable affections…)

“You’re not like the others,” the huli jing murmured in awe. “You’re so… young.”

So stiff-backed and silent, Lan Zhan was. So unnaturally…obedient.

Then and there, the fox spirit made an impulsive decision to call him over. “Come on, don’t just stare at me like that. C’mere,” he softly beckoned, breaking into such a warm smile the baby dragon felt his chest physically ache.

Lan Zhan swallowed hard. Now that he’d been found out, Lan Zhan was left with no choice but to come forth. Besides, this might be a good opportunity as any to find out more about the bewitching fox spirit, and his intentions here. He’d never met one before, after all. This would be his first…

(And also, his very first love.)

Taking a hesitant step forward, it took everything inside of Lan Zhan not to break into a run toward the huli jing.

Quietly, he made his way toward the windowsill. It was elegantly carved into a circular frame, at the perfect height for Lan Zhan to peer into without obstructing his shoulders. It was his absolute favorite place in all of Cloud Recesses, having spent countless mornings and afternoons with his mother right here—confiding in her, sharing meals, even reading together. Sometimes, he would curl against the smooth curve of the windowsill and fall asleep beneath her gentle touch, feeling her fingers threading through his hair.

This time however, as he stepped closer, his gaze travelled downward, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

Shackles circled the huli jing’s ankles, made of thick, heavy iron chains that prevented him from going far. They weren’t tight enough to bruise, but were secure enough to make sure he could never leave the confines of Gentian House. The huli jing…was permanently trapped here.

The huli jing must have seen the blatant horror splashed across his face. For when Lan Zhan looked back up, the fox’s lips had curved into small, sad smile. As if thoroughly ashamed, to have his dreadful little secret found out.

“Are you lost, little one?” the huli jing still brought himself to ask anyway, hand reaching out to tenderly cup the baby dragon’s cheek. Trying to pretend as though his horrific fate wasn’t staring them right in the face. “What brings you to such a lonely place?”

Lan Zhan could not even find his voice. He could will no strength.

Not…not even his mother had been treated this way. She had been trapped in a different sense—she simply had nowhere else to go, in a world that wanted to see her put away. But not…like this. Not with iron shackles binding her to the floor like a caged beast.

With soft, anxious breaths, Lan Zhan whispered out, “…why have they locked you here?”

The huli jing stilled, not knowing how to answer. A soft sigh left his lips. He shifted uncomfortably in his position—he’d been on his knees—and his sleeves slipped to his elbow, revealing thin, pale wrists. Now marred with deep, violent, red bruises.

The huli jing must have fought his captors, his entire way here.

“Maybe I’m a bad person.”

But it was obvious he was only answering such a thing, because it was the easiest thing to tell a child; it wasn’t the full truth.

Lan Zhan insistently shook his head.

“No,” he firmly said. “You can’t be a bad person.”

The Heavens would not send you to me, otherwise.

The huli jing blinked at him, startled. Then, to Lan Zhan’s utter surprise, he threw his head back and laughed.

He was so pretty.

“You’re a willful one, aren’t you, kid?” he chuckled. “I can already tell. You’re different from the rest. You have a good heart.”

As he spoke, his tail slowly rose from behind. Thick and soft, coloured in a beautiful shade of reddish-brown. The tip of his tail continued to flick behind him, slowly, lazily. Invitingly.

The baby dragon’s lips parted slightly, completely mesmerised by the sight.

So beautiful…

Unable to rein his desires in, Lan Zhan reached a hand out, wanting to touch.

But the huli jing’s tail immediately swished the other way, feigning shyness.

“At least ask my name first before trying to pet my tail,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lan Zhan’s cheeks burned all the way to his ears.

Quickly, he straightened his posture, puffed out his chest just a little—and lifted his chin with as much dignity as an eight-year-old dragon could muster.

“I am Lan Wangji, Second Heir to the Gusu Lan Dragon Clan,” he pompously declared. He saw something flicker within the fox spirit’s gaze at that honourable mention, and wondered if the huli jing was notably impressed. But his child self could not perceive it correctly for what it was—debilitating fear. “But you may call me Lan Zhan.”

The huli jing’s interest was piqued.

“Lan Zhaaaan~!” he eventually sang, stretching out the name like he was tasting it. “A young master~! You’re the baby they’ve been hiding away from the rest of the world! How could I not have guessed? You’re dressed up all prim and proper, like a handsome young master. Of course you couldn’t be anything less.”

Lan Zhan’s face flushed at the compliment—ond that he took very much to heart.

Grinning at the sight, the huli jing happily introduced himself next, flipping his ponytail to the side, “This lowly one is Wei Wuxian! But you may call me Wei Ying—gege, hehe.”

(Speaking to him like how an adult would entertain a child. Lan Zhan absolutely refused to partake in this nonsensical exchange!)

The baby dragon immediately made a face.

Gege?

Gege?!

There was no way he could call the huli jing gege! That would basically disqualify him from the race before it even started!

Wei Ying only laughed at the sheer disgust in the eyes that met him. “Alright, alright, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But at least let me call you A-Zhan. You’ll be my cute little A-Zhan, from now on!”

Lan Zhan’s stomach did a strange, unfamiliar flip.

He quietly nodded. “…If that is what Wei Ying wishes...”

Wei Ying hummed, satisfied with what he heard. “Then it’s settled! We’re friends now.”

Lan Zhan could only stare back at him, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Friends…?

Ah. He hadn’t…ever had one before. Ever since birth, he’d only had his mother, his uncle, and his brother for company. He didn’t do too well with the others, especially in the years following his mother’s death, so they removed him from group classes and assigned a private tutor to him just for lessons.

Wei Ying… Wei Ying would be his first friend.

“…not lowly…” Lan Zhan mustered out, quietly, shaking his head stubbornly to himself.

“Eh?” the huli jing blinked.

He wasn’t sure if he was still being spoken to.

Lan Zhan slowly gazed back up at him, his golden eyes fluttering open wide, glistening with…a newfound hope so fragile and desperate.

“Did muqin send you to me?” he whispered. His little fingers curled tightly into his oversized sleeves, trembling as he spoke, “Is that why you have come?”

Wei Ying paused. He didn’t know what prompted the sudden question, but he could guess.

Lan Zhan looked at him, like he wanted Wei Ying to become his whole world.

His life had only just barely begun, and yet just how much loss and pain had he already been made to endure?

So, if he wanted to believe the huli jing was sent for him…

…then who was Wei Ying to take that away from him?

“There must be a reason why we met,” Wei Ying finally chose to say with a soft smile, eyes crinkling prettily at the corners. He leaned forward just a little, resting his chin in his palm. “And I am so very happy to have met you on this quiet night, A-Zhan.”

Lan Zhan sucked in a breath.

Like a ray of golden sunlight, the huli jing pierced right through the cold, endless winter of his world.

And for the very first time in his young life… Lan Zhan wanted.

The baby dragon learned what it meant…to covet.

He stood there for a long moment, small hands tightening and loosening at his sides, deliberating.

Then, in a voice so soft it was nearly lost to the wind, he quietly asked, “Can I come back?”

Wei Ying’s heart clenched.

“Can I share meals with you?” the baby dragon continued, wistfully. “And…read with you?” And then, in an even softer voice, “Would you… read to me?”

Wei Ying’s fingers gripped the windowsill, his smile tight. “I’m not going anywhere, A-Zhan.”

I can’t.

“I’ll be right here,” he promised.

Trying not to glance at the chains fastened securely around his ankles—that kept him eternally bound to this place.

Wei Ying reached his fingers out to lightly caress the wispy strands of hair that had fallen into the baby dragon’s face.

“I’ll gladly read to you,” he said. “Come back with a book of your choice next time, okay? I promise I’ll make it good—just for you.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes shone.

His little tail flicked excitedly behind him.

“I will not be a bother?” he asked hesitantly.

Wei Ying laughed then. “You’d be saving me from boredom, A-Zhan.”

From wasting away into nothingness, and giving up on the rest of my days.

Lan Zhan nodded. “Tomorrow, then,” he said. “I will return with a book…” Just like I always did with muqin.

Wei Ying’s smile was gentle.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

.

.

.

So, Lan Zhan returns in the dead of night.

He may be young, but he knows how to read between the lines. All signs point to the fact that the huli jing is a prized secret to be kept on these Gusu Lan grounds, and that his meetings with him must be done in a clandestine manner. And so, he keeps Wei Ying to himself.

All to himself.

After lights-out, and the servants tuck him into bed after whispering their goodnights, Lan Zhan waits and listens for their footsteps to fade; for their doors to slide shut, and for Cloud Recesses to settle back into silence. The minute he is certain everyone has retreated to their quarters, he scrambles out from under his blankets so fast—he barely catches his breath.

Stumbling toward his bookshelf, his hands tremble in his haste, as he pulls out his most cherished book. And then, clutching it tightly to his chest, he makes a run for it. Taking his most beloved path, that belongs only to him.

The roads are quiet. No one is allowed near Gentian House, with the exception of Lan Zhan’s immediate family, and the servants serving the occupants of Gentian House. In recent years especially, there has been no extra need for visitors. Lan Zhan has been the only guest.

Even now.

He flies up the steps as he holds the book close, huffing and puffing out anticipatory breaths.

Only once he reaches the windowsill does he finally remember to breathe again.

His beautiful huli jing is there, leaning lazily against the round curve of the frame, his head gently tilted toward the night sky. His silver eyes are lost in the distance, as though gazing at faraway places he will never reach. When the fox thinks no one is watching, he always looks especially sad.

But the moment the soft pitter-patter of Lan Zhan’s steps reaches his ears, his fox ears perk up. His tail rises to life behind him, as he excitedly turns, his entire being lighting up at the very sight of the baby dragon.

“A-Zhan!” Wei Ying merrily calls.

Lan Zhan almost throws himself forward then, running to him with all of his might.

“W…Wei Ying…!”

He skids to a stop just before the windowsill, and presents the book to the fox spirit, holding it high into the air.

Wei Ying hums, as he takes the book into his hand, and reads the title aloud: “The Story of the Dragon’s Pearl…?”

Lan Zhan nods furiously.

Wei Ying’s lips curve into a grin. “Is this your favourite book?”

Another frenzied nod.

Chuckling, Wei Ying pats the windowsill, inviting him to climb up. Lan Zhan does not hesitate; his small hands grip the edges for balance, as he crawls into the empty spot right next to Wei Ying.

“Well then,” Wei Ying tells him, licking the tip of his own finger as he proceeds to flip the pages of the book open. “Let’s get started.”

Clearing his throat, he begins.

….moved by a young dragon’s suffering, the Heavens sought to offer him recompense in the form of a single, majestic pearl. And yet, rather shockingly, the pearl was given up as quickly as it had arrived, for it was fed right away to a—” Wei Ying suddenly pauses. His eyebrows shoot up. “A huli jing?”

He turns to Lan Zhan, laughing. “Wait, there’s a fox in this story?”

Lan Zhan hurriedly nods again, pleased to share his favourite story with Wei Ying.

“So, you’ve long known about us foxes,” Wei Ying’s grin turns sly. “Is that why you do not fear me? Why…you’ve taken such a liking to me? I was beginning to wonder why this baby dragon was so fearless.”

Lan Zhan hesitates. Quietly, he admits, “Muqin told me… that fox spirits are to be cherished. To not believe in tales that demonise them, but instead…” he looks shyly to his hands, unable to meet Wei Ying’s eyes. “To believe in their good and kindness.”

Wei Ying startles. Then, slowly, he smiles. “Your muqin is wise.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums, his gaze completely fixated on Wei Ying’s face. Never moving away. “Muqin was right.”

Such unbelievable innocence…

The huli jing quietly sets the book down, and asks of him, “A-Zhan… Have you told your brother or uncle about meeting me?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “They don’t need to know.”

Wei Ying exhales softly, shoulders slightly relaxing. “I see,” he murmurs. “Funny. You’re so young, and yet wise beyond your years.”

Lan Zhan chews on his lower lip. “They did not like me visiting muqin, either,” he confesses. “But that…never stopped me.”

Wei Ying’s smile loosens.

“Then,” he sneakily suggests, placing a finger teasingly upon his cherry red lips, “this will have to be our little secret. I fear the consequences should they ever find out.”

Lan Zhan’s breath hitches. His hands tighten at his sides.

What a pretty fox, he thinks.

When he looks back up, his golden eyes are fierce.

“They can’t make me go.”

Wei Ying cocks his head, watching him in awe. “I believe you,” he murmurs. “I have a feeling they can’t control you, can they?”

“No,” the baby dragon says, with the firm determination of—a man far older than his years. “No, they cannot.”

.

.

.

The biting cold of winter finally eases, as the first breath of spring sweeps through the courtyard. The baby dragon’s eyes are wide with quiet wonder as cherry blossom petals fall all around him; one of them even catching on his dragon horn, tickling his forehead. For the first time, Lan Zhan finds himself…able to appreciate the true beauty of spring.

For the first time, the season is not clouded with the sorrow of his muqin’s absence.

For the first time, he will be spending it with someone else.

A cherished person…

Making a snap decision, the baby dragon squats, his stubby fingers reaching for the fallen petals on the floor. He gathers them into his sleeve, picking only the biggest, brightest ones—only the best for his Wei Ying.

They will look beautiful nestled against the huli jing’s dark hair, he thinks. Their pale pink hues will perfectly complement the beauty of Wei Ying.

Once satisfied with his loot, Lan Zhan clutches the makeshift bouquet close to his chest. Then, he takes off.

Up the stairs, toward the one who is waiting for him.

Wei Ying’s exhaustion shows on his face these days. The physical toll of being held captive weighs on him more with every passing day; shadows clinging beneath his sweet silver eyes from being made to sleep on the cold, hard floor, his once-lithe frame significantly thinning from the horrid things they are feeding him.

Lan Zhan knows he does not have any power to change the conditions of his captivity, not just yet. But in the meantime, he can bring him this.

Nearly tripping in his haste, with petals spilling from his grasp, Lan Zhan makes his appearance on the steps, huffing and puffing and out of breath.

All at once, Wei Ying’s face brightens at the sight of him. His fox ears twitch with delight. “A-Zhan,” he laughs. “What’s this? Almost lost your footing there, little one.”

Lan Zhan scrunches his nose up at being referred to as “little”, but pushes the flowers forward anyway, his cheeks flushing slightly as he proudly proclaims,

“For you.”

Wei Ying stills.

It is not lost on him that just last night, they had read a romance novel together—a tale of courtship, detailing sacred mating rituals of animals wooing their chosen mates.

Gift them pretty, shiny things… and they will be yours.

It looks like the baby dragon took the book’s advice to heart.

Wei Ying grins, taking the flowers into his hands. He twirls a petal between his fingers, silver eyes glinting warmly. “Thank you, A-Zhan,” he says. “How did you know I wanted one? I’ve been watching them fall all day.”

Wei Ying…has accepted his sincerity!

“I thought… they would match Wei Ying’s hair,” Lan Zhan whispers, absolutely buzzing from head to toe at the revelation that—Wei Ying has accepted his first token of courtship. To be his mate.

Wei Ying’s grin widens at his words. “Eh? Is that so?” Plucking a twig of blossoms from the bunch, he tucks it into his hair, adjusting it playfully before striking a small pose. “Like this?”

Lan Zhan forgets to breathe.

“…Mn,” he murmurs, quickly bowing his head to hide his burning ears.

Wei Ying chuckles, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. Then in the spur of a moment, decides to lean right over and plant a big, fat kiss atop the baby dragon’s head—Lan Zhan’s very first!

“What a thoughtful boy A-Zhan is,” he muses. “You’ve brought spring right to my doorstep! I can’t thank you enough.”

Lan Zhan is drunk on that kiss. He sees nothing else, feels nothing else; just the fervent warmth of Wei Ying’s lips.

Lan Zhan stares back at him in a daze, becoming determined. He proceeds to vow, more so to himself than anything else, “I will bring flowers to Wei Ying every day. As much as he wants.”

(And he does.

For every day that the cherry blossoms fall, Lan Zhan kneels to the ground and gathers the petals with careful hands, tucking them into his sleeves before bringing them to Wei Ying.

He will earn his rightful kisses.

He will bring a smile to his huli jing’s face.

He will not let the huli jing miss a single day of spring.

Not when the huli jing has become his.)

.

.

.

Lan Zhan can only ignore the cruel reality of why Wei Ying is here, for so long.

One evening, he arrives at Gentian House earlier than usual—only to freeze when he hears a violent commotion inside.

He quickly ducks behind a pillar, holding his breath when he hears…

—The heavy rattling of iron chains.

—A brutal crack of flesh meeting flesh.

—And, finally, the soft, keening cries of a fox.

A guard storms out not long after, grumbling under his breath as he grips a heavy metal bar in one hand. He stalks away, back to the main cluster of the Gusu Lan residence.

Once the coast is clear, Lan Zhan runs straight to the windowsill, faster than his little legs can even keep up.

“Wei Ying…!” he cries out.

Beyond the wooden frame, an injured fox lies curled on the cold stone floor, his tail wrapped tightly around himself as though it were his only protective shield.

At the sound of the baby dragon’s voice, the tail lifts slightly, just enough for Lan Zhan to see his bruised and battered face.

Fresh blood streaks across Wei Ying’s cheek. His nose is bleeding. His bottom lip has split. His long hair—normally pulled into a neat, high ponytail—now flows in long, dishevelled tresses behind his back. And in his trembling hands, the huli jing clutches the scattered petals Lan Zhan had brought him just days before, holding them to his chest like a lifeline. Squeezing them tight, as he lays limply on the ground. Like they’re the only thing he can hold onto—in this eternal darkness.

The fox looks utterly miserable.

The guard had no doubt laid hands on him!

Still, now that Lan Zhan is here, Wei Ying slowly pulls himself up from the floor with a shaky inhale. He tries to smile through the tears, not wanting to let the hurt show in front of the baby dragon paying him his daily visit.

“A-Zhan…” the fox painfully exhales, saying. “I’m not feeling so good. Can you leave me for the night?”

Lan Zhan adamantly shakes his head, his heart aching brutally at the sight. “Wei Ying, you are hurt…! Why have they done this to you? You have done nothing wrong…!”

Wei Ying weakly brushes it off with a cold chuckle. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, though his voice continues to shake. “I just… didn’t want to do something they asked. So they punished me for it.”

Lan Zhan follows his lonesome gaze, and finds a white plate placed onto the floor behind him.

A large red organ sits upon it, still fresh, still pulsating. Shaped just like a human heart.

Lan Zhan’s lips part slightly. He can take a quick guess. Looking back at Wei Ying in horror, he asks of the huli jing, “What… are they making you eat?”

Wei Ying flinches, knowing his shame has been found out. Slowly, he turns his back, trying to hide the plate from view. “I won’t eat it,” he says softly. “That’s why…”

The guards hurt him relentlessly. Why they beat him.

Lan Zhan cannot understand. “Why would my clan force you to eat human hearts?”

But it is then he recalls—the tales, the legends. Don’t the most powerful huli jings consume human hearts? That is how they cultivate their strength, and amass their power. It’s demonic arts, that’s what it is. But it’s also what makes their race such forbiddable, frightening creatures.

And desired, as prey.

He looks back at Wei Ying again—and a new, terrible realisation takes hold. “Are they… trying to strengthen your cultivation?” he asks.

Young he may be, but Lan Zhan is a smart boy. They want to fatten their prey before the slaughter.

After all, his uncle had long indoctrinated into him from a young age, the grand virtue of patience. Wangji, never forget this. Patience always pays off—for us dragons. It is even written into one of the Gusu Lan Clan rules.

Lan Zhan clenches his fists, his stomach churning at the disgusting revelation. “Wei Ying, do not…starve yourself. Wangji, Wangji will bring you proper food.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. “A-Zhan… please do not trouble yourself.”

“No,” the baby dragon breathes, his golden eyes burning. In spite of his age, the dangerous, firm conviction in his voice is that of a grown dragon’s. “This is wrong. I—I need to save you. I will take you, far away from here.”

Wei Ying’s breaths stutter at what he hears. His eyes widening at the sound of such a—sweet promise, the only sliver of hope he’s been bestowed in the past few months.

Then, as though a dam has finally broken, the strong, unshakable front he has held onto for so long collapses. And the huli jing collapses to the floor, as he sobs.

“I want to leave,” he chokes out, tears falling freely down his face. “I want to go home.” At his core, he is still a young fox, barely on the cusp of adulthood. And yet he is made to bear the humiliation, the pain, the torture, of things most people never have to go through. “I want my family. Jiejie, A-Cheng… What did I do to deserve this? Why am I suffering just because I was born a fox spirit?”

Lan Zhan can only watch helplessly, as his entire world breaks apart in front of him. “Wei Ying…”

“I am not a prize,” Wei Ying wipes at his face, his voice shaking with inconsolable rage. “Lan Zhan, there is a cruelty in this world you cannot yet fathom. Your heart is too pure for your clan. I can only hope it stays that way for the rest of your life. Meanwhile…” he laughs, all hollow, broken. “I can only pray for my death...”

A terrible, aching panic takes root in the baby dragon’s chest. No, no, no…!

“No,” he begs of Wei Ying. “Please… you cannot die. I…” need you.

You’re the only thing keeping me going in this world.

But the words do not make it past his lips. Did he even deserve to utter such a selfish thing, to Wei Ying?

The fox spirit continues to rub at his swollen eyes, as he tearfully confesses, “My cultivation will keep me alive for a while longer. But I know my days are numbered, as long as I refuse to eat. At this rate, I will not last another winter...”

And Wei Ying, he actually smiles wistfully at the thought. Like it’d be a relief.

Lan Zhan shakes his head frantically at the fact. “No. No, that cannot be true—!”

Wei Ying smiles anyway, as he gently pats at his head.

“To have had you by my side in my final days…” the huli jing whispers, smiling through his pain. “That is enough. That is all I can ask for.”

But it isn’t enough…! Not for Lan Zhan! He’d already imagined a whole life ahead with him! Endless happy times with his Wei Ying. An eternal spring…!

But spring…ah, it was already slipping away from him so quickly. Just like it did, with his muqin.

Was Lan Zhan always destined to lose everybody he loves?

No—the baby dragon woefully thought, as he clung onto the fox, and hugged him tight. Hardly able to rein in the tears creeping to his eyes, and the big fat lump forming at the back of his throat.

All of this, it’s far too much for a baby dragon to stomach. He shouldn’t have had to endure death—twice.

No, he cannot possibly bear this. Not if Lan Zhan has anything to do about it.

He’ll find a way to save the pretty fox, even if it costs him everything else.

.

.

.

The chains around Wei Ying’s ankles mean he can never go far.

He would love to lie on the tall, dewy grass and watch the stars; but instead, he has to contend with lying against Lan Zhan’s warm body on the windowsill to do so.

But it’s not so bad. The baby dragon is round and fleshy, and soft to the very touch. Plus, he adores hearing the quiet inhale and exhale of his soft baby breaths next to him, keeping him company. Proving that there is at least one kind soul within this clan that cares for him.

Lan Zhan had snuck into the main kitchen earlier, scavenging whatever scraps he could find. But Wei Ying was not used to the stale rice and cold, red meat that the dragons had long adapted to. And so, the baby dragon spent another hour outside, scouring the grass fields for something the huli jing would eat—from earthworms, to rodents, to frogs, and fresh berries.

Wei Ying then happily devoured them all, and his belly was full for the first time in days.

Now, Wei Ying sleepily watches the night sky with him. His eyelids drooping, his body finally succumbing to his exhaustion.

He only jolts, when Lan Zhan interrupts his reverie with a whisper. “Wei Ying never told me he had a family.”

Then again, Lan Zhan never did ask.

Wei Ying hums softly in response. “I do. Far from here. I couldn’t see out of the sack they transported me in, but…”

Lan Zhan breathes out, deducing from Wei Ying‘a tearful words earlier, “A brother and a sister?”

Wei Ying nods. “Not by blood. But,” he smiles softly at the thought, “they’re my only family.”

Lan Zhan bites his lip. I want to be yours, too. “What are they like?”

Are they like xiongzhang, a walking dichotomy—always smiling, always distant?

Wei Ying chuckles. “They are kind. Loving. Stubborn. But most importantly… they were always there for me. They kept me a secret until they couldn’t anymore. I want to remain by their side, but I’d only bring them more harm. After all, I’ve already…” Been responsible for the war that led to their parents’ deaths.

But he does not say that.

“…Been responsible for enough.”

Lan Zhan is quiet for a long moment.

“My brother and uncle keep me here too,” the dragon finally utters, attempting to offer some kind of solace. “I…have never left Cloud Recesses. They tell me young dragons are vulnerable.”

Wei Ying smiles faintly. “Yeah. I never got to leave Yunmeng either. And when I did… it was by force.”

He doesn’t say more, and Lan Zhan knows better than to ask. The implications of his statement hang between them, tense.

“If you could leave Cloud Recesses,” the huli jing suddenly pipes up, asking. “And go anywhere you wanted… Where would you go? What would you do?”

Lan Zhan simply stares at him, turning quiet. He’s too young to desire such a thing. “I do not know.”

But anywhere will be fine, he thinks.

As long as it is with you.

Wei Ying laughs, his head falling back to gaze at the sky. His hands fold behind his head, supporting his weight.

“I can’t go back to Yunmeng,” he hums as a matter-of-factly. “But I’d like to settle somewhere quiet. A little cottage, deep in the forest. Maybe with a field nearby, a place to grow things. I’d have a farm. Raise some cute animals. Bunnies, maybe. I’d hunt during the day, then return home at night. I’d go anywhere I wanted, but always have a place to come back to.”

He’s given much thought to this. Lan Zhan can tell.

“But it’s impossible for me,” Wei Ying sighs softly. “A person like me, is not allowed to have dreams.”

Lan Zhan hesitates. His eyes shimmer wetly as he speaks, “…Do you hate us? Us dragons?”

Wei Ying purses his lips. He doesn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t hate you,” is what he ultimately settles on.

Lan Zhan’s heart squeezes. Crawling closer to the huli jing, he cups Wei Ying’s slender face between his small hands, an expectant look of hope on his face.

“…Like Wei Ying,” he whispers, so soft Wei Ying has to strain his ears to hear. “I like Wei Ying so much. I hope you will never hate A-Zhan, for the rest of your life.”

Wei Ying laughs. “I couldn’t possibly, Lan Zhaan,” his smile is as fragile as his constitution. “You’re the only ray of hope in my life. I could never hate you.”

You are the only thing I have here.

Lan Zhan’s heart races, as he hastens to promise the fox, “As long as I am here, I will take care of you.”

Even if I am small. Even if I am powerless. I would do anything for you.

Because I love you.

.

.

.

The advantage of being a baby dragon is that adults have a habit of talking over you—not at you.

At the dinner table, Lan Zhan eats quietly, assuming a perfect posture and expression of child-like ignorance. His uncle and brother converse freely by themselves, lost in their own world; leaving the baby dragon to his food.

“…the cultivation world has been put in order now that we have the thing they’ve been killing themselves over,” his uncle muses, sipping his tea. “Only one more spring until he’s ready. Do you think the clan will benefit from him, I wonder?”

“If we follow protocol and devour the furnace properly,” his older brother replies smoothly. At his tender age of eighteen, he’s been groomed to take over the clan. “We can’t exhaust it, of course. It’s meant to serve our clan for thousands of years to come.”

Lan Zhan has a bad feeling about this. The way his brother refers to Wei Ying as an it, as if he were nothing more than an object, a tool to be used with neither thought nor feeling, makes his blood run cold. His hand tightens its grip around his spoon, before setting it down on the table with such force he startles both his uncle and brother.

“What’s a furnace?” the baby dragon demands to know.

His uncle and brother exchange looks.

“In time,” Lan Huan tells him, giving him one of his well-practised smiles, “you’ll get to enjoy it as well. Don’t worry, A-Zhan. There are worldly pleasures only adults get to indulge in. You’ll have to take your time—and grow up a bit more, first.”

There is an awful evil lurking beneath that smile. How had Lan Zhan never noticed before?

“Some people, after all,” his brother continues, with a smirk, “are born to be furnaces. Prey, meant to be used and devoured by the likes of us. Do you not remember what I taught you, that dragons sit atop the food chain? We’re only doing these poor creatures a favour.”

Lan Zhan feels sick. For the first time, he looks upon his family and sees nothing but a pair of polished masks—hiding their true wickedness underneath.

“Well, I have heard the furnace is not adjusting to life here very well,” his uncle remarks, remaining unconcerned with the look of disgust on his baby nephew’s face. “Throwing childish tantrums, starving itself for days on end. If the guards will not discipline him properly, then A-Huan, won’t you take over the reins? After all, it is paramount that he submits to the future clan leader.”

Lan Zhan’s heart immediately plummets.

“…Brother?” his voice comes out small, unsure, as he turns to his older brother, his big round golden eyes going wide with fear.

Lan Huan merely smiles at him.

“If the furnace requires a lesson, perhaps it is up to me,” he says, sounding almost amused. “You know, I’ve had plenty of animals before. But I’ve never had a fox.”

Lan Zhan, bless his young and tender heart, does not fully understand the extent of what this cruelty entails. But something deep in his bones tells him that if he does not save the fox in time—

“Perhaps I’ll do it tonight,” Lan Huan laughs, a cold, unnerving one, baring his sharp canines as he does so.

—Wei Ying will be lost to him, forever.

.

.

.

The baby dragon appears at Wei Ying’s door, heaving, trembling, his red-rimmed eyes shining with panicky tears. His tail swishes wildly behind him, unable to contain his nerves. He has never dared to cross the boundary of the door to Wei Ying’s room before, always choosing to remain by the windowsill—lest he bring any discomfort to the fox.

As much as Wei Ying is a prisoner, he deserves his own space, still. But tonight, everything is different.

With a frantic sob, Lan Zhan rushes in, throwing himself into Wei Ying’s arms.

“Wei Ying has to go,” Lan Zhan blubbers, voice high with the horror of a child. “Tonight. Before xiongzhang comes—”

Wei Ying steadies him then and there, attempting to calm his shaking self down by cradling his tender face between his hands. His smile is beautiful; gentle. Too gentle.

“A-Zhan, what’s gotten into you…?” the huli jing murmurs.

He looks so rough, so out of sorts, with red and purple bruises colouring his face and hands, but he’s still so perfect and sweet toward his favourite baby dragon.

Lan Zhan wants to cry. “Leave Cloud Recesses,” he begs. “Take me with you. I will protect Wei Ying. I want to be with Wei Ying forever.”

Wei Ying blinks, thoroughly puzzled by his emotional outburst.

Then, his gaze drops…

…to the key clutched tightly in Lan Zhan’s small hands.

The huli jing cannot believe his eyes.

“Lan Zhan, where did you get this—?!”

But the dragon has already dropped to his knees, clumsily forcing the key into every lock on the iron chains, determined to set Wei Ying free in spite of his uncontrollably shaking fingers.

(He’d had his ways, of course. Stalking his brother and getting his hands onto his prized possessions was easy as the beloved baby dragon of the clan. No one even questioned him.)

“I will go to every length to save you,” he vows, to no one in particular. “Wei Ying will not end up like muqin.”

Wei Ying simply stares, unable to process one bit of what is happening.

“A-Zhan, please, I don’t understand…”

Until, with one triumphant click, the shackles finally come undone, and the heavy chains clatter to the floor. Wei Ying gasps from the impact, almost collapsing. Resisting the urge to bawl right then and there. He stares down at his bare ankles, at the deep red indentations carved into his skin.

Lan Zhan…has freed him.

“A-Zhan, you… you did it,” Wei Ying’s breath shudders out of him in disbelief.

Suddenly, he is laughing, with tears spilling down his cheeks. “You…you freed me…? You…you’ve really surpassed my wildest dreams.”

Wei Ying does not even allow Lan Zhan time to answer. He gathers the baby dragon into his arms, and presses a big, tear-streaked kiss to the top of his small head.

“You’re my grand saviour,” he whispers, nuzzling his lips against the baby dragon’s cheek. “My handsome knight in shining armour. The reason I get to live once more.”

Lan Zhan's baby head dizzies. “Wei Ying…!” he chokes out, barely able to catch his breath.

He wants the huli jing to need him like this—forever.

Wei Ying pulls away slowly, only to stagger to his feet; swaying slightly from the unfamiliar weightlessness of his body.

For he is finally free.

Extending a hand toward the dragon on the ground, he asks Lan Zhan softly, with the widest smile he can muster, looking the most confident the dragon’s ever seen him, “A-Zhan… will you come with me?”

Lan Zhan can’t cry out fast enough.

“Yes...!”

.

.

.

“Get them!”

The moment Wei Ying hoists Lan Zhan into his arms and makes a run for it, the wards come alive, ringing with alarm. Cloud Recesses, the sanctuary of dragons, is layered with thousands of force fields. They are said to keep intruders and enemies out of the illustrious dragon clan.

But the truth is—they are meant to keep things in.

No one is to leave the land of the dragons, without explicit permission from them. This place—has never been anything more than a glorified cage for their prey.

“Capture them alive!” Lan Huan’s voice thunders through the darkness. “No one is to harm either of them!”

Because one is his precious, darling baby brother.

And the other—the clan’s most prized furnace. His furnace. Neither will slip from his grasp…!

And so, Wei Ying runs. He’s always been fast, always been a runner. He flies, feet barely touching the ground as he does so, slipping between the trees, his heart wildly drumming in his chest. The fox used to dash through the back hills of Yunmeng, barefoot and laughing, chasing the wind, dreaming of a freedom just beyond his reach.

He’s doing the same now—only at the back of the mountains of Cloud Recesses.

But the moment he nears the boundaries of their land, he unexpectedly slams headfirst into a barrier. A blinding force knocks him backward, flopping him onto the ground.

His heart stops at the revelation.

“No!” Wei Ying screams, scrambling up. He pounds against the ward with all his might, his sharp claws scraping at the impenetrable barrier that—feels just like glass.

It doesn’t budge one bit. Wei Ying rebounds violently instead, crashing onto the ground once more. His body is working against him. His cultivation is too weak… Months of starvation have drained him.

“No,” he breathes out, the air turning frosty cold.

Behind him, the guards are closing in. His small window of escape is vanishing—for good.

Lan Zhan does his best to fight too, stumbling to his side, tiny fists pounding desperately at the invisible force in a bid to aid the huli jing.

Nothing.

Wei Ying lets out a ragged, heartbroken sob. It can’t be over, just like this…

“Well, well, well,” comes the clan leader’s smug voice from behind.

Xiongzhang. Lan Zhan turns.

His brother steps into view, walking toward them at a leisurely pace—utterly unhurried. Clothed in impeccably pristine Gusu Lan white robes, his horns point at them menacingly like curved blades.

“Did you think us stupid?” Lan Huan’s voice drips with condescension as he speaks, reeking of mockery. “Cloud Recesses has been warded for centuries, since before you even walked this earth. No one enters or leaves this place without my command.”

Wei Ying’s entire self trembles at the fact. His hold tightens around Lan Zhan.

He cannot go back. He won’t...!

All at once, that debilitating fear that pulses through his veins with every waking second, every passing day—it completely possesses him, it controls his every move. His foxy eyes heavily darken, glowing red with his desperation. It’s life or death, now. He unsheathes his deadly claws in one move—and raises them fatally to Lan Zhan’s throat.

“Let me go,” he angrily snarls. “Or I kill your brother.”

This time, it is the world that stops. Lan Zhan’s breath hitches at what has just happened. His big round golden eyes widen, looking up at the huli jing in pure fright and disbelief.

“…Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying does not… does not mean that, right?

He does not mean to use Lan Zhan as collateral, and throw his life away that simply?

Wei Ying must only be bluffing, he thinks. But his small hands clutch at Wei Ying’s sleeves anyway, pleading for reassurance.

And yet, Wei Ying at this moment in time, hardly even looks at him. Like the baby dragon’s not even worth another glance.

Lan Huan steps forward, his eyes narrowing. In spite of this, a slow grin spreads across his face, like he knows.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Wei Ying barks sharply at him, with a snappy hiss, “Lift the wards. Now. Or I will take his life.”

“You,” Lan Huan sneers, “have no guts.”

Behind, the clan members exchange uneasy looks. The second young master of the clan is simply too important to have his life be forsaken like that, even if it looks to be an empty threat. They’re not ready to take that risk.

Meanwhile, Lan Zhan looks like he’s about to cry.

“Wei Ying,” he whispers, his golden eyes blinking rapidly up at the fox, holding in his tears. “I do not understand…”

They were supposed to leave together. They were supposed to be free together.

Why…? Why would Wei Ying threaten to hurt him? He would never forsake Wei Ying’s life himself.

After everything he had done… After the lengths Lan Zhan had gone to for him…

“Clan Leader,” one of the elders speaks up, sounding hesitant. “Perhaps… we should negotiate.”

“No,” Lan Huan coldly cuts off that line of thought. “I don’t negotiate with prisoners.”

Wei Ying can only see red. He so loathes these dragons. If that is the clan leader’s answer, then he is to do what he promised. And so, in a reckless moment of fury, Wei Ying’s beautiful foxy eyes dilate into slits, turning wild. His breathing becomes uneven, and his heavy claws strike right down on the baby dragon.

A slash; quick, shallow, but just enough to deliver an ugly long cut against Lan Zhan’s baby skin. Blood beads along Lan Zhan’s pale cheek, oozing out crimson.

…It hurt him…

Not from the minor wound; but from being struck by Wei Ying.

…It hurt more than anything…

The clan members gasp in horror at what they’ve seen. “Clan leader! We cannot risk the Second Heir! He’s too important!”

Lan Huan pauses; only then, is a flicker of concern to be seen in those cold, unfeeling eyes of his.

“Let Wangji go,” he calmly says to the fox spirit.

Wei Ying’s chest heaves, raising his claws. The tips of them, dripping with fresh baby blood. “Wards. First.”

Lan Huan’s jaw tightens. He knows his uncle will lose his mind, otherwise; Lan Zhan is his everything.

Finally, the older dragon flicks his wrist, and the air splits open. The wards finally shatter all around them, with the sweet echoes of glass fragments splintering into a million bits.

Wei Ying looks all around him, incredulous at the very sight. It had been that easy…?

“Return Wangji to me,” Lan Huan pompously demands.

Wei Ying sucks in a breath then, clutching the bleeding baby dragon close.

“I’ll return him,” he promises. “Once I’m far enough. I’ll see to it that he comes back in one piece.”

“No,” Lan Zhan protests right after, his tiny hands grabbing at Wei Ying, begging him. “No, no, no. I want to stay with Wei Ying! Forever!”

Lan Huan scoffs at the fox’s words. “Fine. If Wangji is not returned to us within twelve shichens, we will unleash our wrath upon Yunmeng.”

Wei Ying’s heart hardens at the threat. “Fine by me.” He will relinquish Lan Zhan, either way. He won’t subject Lan Zhan to the life he’s been forced to lead.

And then, without another word, he turns his back on the vicious horde of dragons—and runs.

Lan Zhan stubbornly clings to him, his small arms wrapped tightly around his neck, unwilling to ever part from the huli jing.

The guards behind him shout for their young master in vain, and Lan Huan even curses under his breath.

But Wei Ying never looks back; for freedom is finally his.

.

.

.

Wei Ying runs so hard and so far that even he doesn’t know where he has gone.

The entirety of the world blurs past him as he makes his escape. His heartbeat drowns out everything else; as does the ache in his arms from holding Lan Zhan so tightly to his chest. His legs burn with exhaustion, but he doesn’t stop.

He can’t stop, not until his body is giving way.

When he feels himself on the verge of collapse, only then does Wei Ying locate the nearest cave. He stumbles into it, his entire self crashing right to the ground. Lan Zhan slips from his grasp, tumbling hard onto the floor.

“Haaa…!”

The huli jing gasps out a broken cry of sheer relief. His head falls back against the cold, hard soil, as his entire body violently trembles in the aftermath of what has transpired, running on sheer adrenaline. He wants to laugh, and he wants to scream.

He can’t believe he’s finally free...! Even the air outside of Cloud Recesses feels easier to breathe in.

The baby dragon crawls closer to him, his small self insistently hugging at the fox’s hip.

“Wei Ying…” he quietly nudges him. “You did not mean it, right…? You will not return me to my brother…?”

Wei Ying has hardly even gotten the chance to catch his breath. As though only just remembering about the dragon, he slowly lowers his gaze, reaching a hand out for Lan Zhan. Cupping the baby dragon’s cheek, his tired eyes fall upon him.

There, he sees it - a thin, bloodied line across soft, pale baby skin. His stomach turns, and leaning in without so much as a thought, he pulls Lan Zhan hurriedly into his grasp, his one tongue flicking out to lap at the wound.

Lan Zhan utterly melts in his arms.

Suddenly nothing hurt anymore…

He’d almost forgotten. Huli jing saliva has medicinal, healing properties. Like magic, the sting fades, and the cut closes—inch by inch.

Wei Ying pulls back afterward, his eyes immediately turning dark; absent of the warmth it once had. He turns his head, so that he is not facing the dragon when he speaks.

“Rest,” he callously instructs. “Once dawn comes, go. Find the nearest market. Locate a merchant. If you tell them you belong to the Gusu Lan Clan, they will take you there without charge. They know they’ll be rewarded handsomely by your clan.”

His voice, it’s become a stranger to him, like he’s completely washed the baby dragon off his hands.

Lan Zhan stares at Wei Ying, in shock. “No!” he cries out loud, stubbornly clinging to Wei Ying’s muddied robes. “I want to stay with you!”

“No,” Wei Ying says, firm with his reply. “You can’t.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes shimmer. “W..Why?”

Wei Ying never looks at him. He stares at the cave walls, at the cold floor, at anything but the baby dragon trembling in front of him. “You are a dragon,” he coldly states. “An heir, to boot. You have a responsibility to uphold. You have to return to your clan. I am a fox spirit. Our worlds… can never meet.”

Lan Zhan’s small self shivers; then, his hands shoot up. “If it is because I am a dragon—” his fingers wrap around his growing horns, desperately tugging at them despite the pain. “Then I will not be a dragon anymore…! I’ll cut them off! I’ll—”

Wei Ying squeezes his eyes close. “Lan Zhan, you’re only hurting yourself. Stop.”

Lan Zhan sobbed, “Whatever you want me to be, I will be. I love you…!”

Wei Ying freezes, the words reverberating in his ears. Slowly, he turns to gaze at the little dragon, stunned.

What…?

What does a baby dragon know about love?

A soft laugh of disbelief leaves him. To have lost his mother so young… it must have thoroughly traumatised Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying places a hand over Lan Zhan’s head, letting out a quiet sigh. “Be good, A-Zhan,” he tells him, allowing him this one last shred of warmth. “I must walk this earth alone, as huli jings do. When you are older, you’ll understand.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head, blubbering out in a fit of tears. “No! When I’m older… you won’t be able to cast me aside anymore. I’ll protect you.”

Wei Ying’s heart actually aches at that. What a nonsensical dream…

The entire cave is now silent, save for the sound of Lan Zhan’s quiet sniffles. The huli jing smiles to himself, soft and sad. In another life, perhaps.

But in this one, he’s a couple years too late.

Wei Ying smooths his fingers through Lan Zhan’s hair, feeling the small ridges of the little dragon’s horns beneath his touch. He knows he should pry those small hands off him, and push Lan Zhan away so he can get a move on. But he’s so tired. He’s exhausted. Fluttering his eyes close, he quietly rests his chin atop Lan Zhan’s head.

“How nice it has been, to have been able to dream with you.”

Bit by bit, the fox’s strength begins to leave him.

Wei Ying’s body only weakens with every breath. By the time Lan Zhan looks back up, soft reddish-brown fur has begun to sprout, spreading over the rest of huli jing’s skin. His limbs shrink, his form curling in on itself until, at last, he is no longer a man—only a fox. Frail and injured. Barely even holding on; on the absolute brink of death.

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen.

“Wei… Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan whispers.

What… what was going on?

But Wei Ying’s eyes remain firmly closed. He cannot hear him anymore.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan cries, burying his face into Wei Ying’s chest, unwilling to give up on him.

The baby dragon raises his head and looks all around him, but there is no one in sight for miles on end. Only a lonely forest, with even more dangerous creatures lurking in its depths. No, this cannot be it, Lan Zhan thinks. This cannot be how it ends, when Wei Ying is finally free..!

Biting his lip, Lan Zhan gathers every ounce of his strength, and hoists the limp fox onto his small back. It’s amazing what one can do, when you’re in absolute peril.

He stumbles forward, his short legs shaking with every step. Wei Ying is not the heaviest, but Lan Zhan is only so small. It’s so hard to breathe. It’s so hard to think. It’s too difficult to see past the tears clouding his vision. His heart pounds so painfully in his chest it feels like it might give out the second he decides to stop.

But he does not stop. He will not stop. Not until he finds someone who can save Wei Ying.

Wei Ying, please hang in there.

I promise we’ll both see another spring again.

.

.

The baby dragon walks for hours, following a straight trail out of the forest.

He hadn’t an idea where to go. But every time he got lost, the Heavens would help him. A stray flower petal, floating through the wind. A croak of a frog, pointing the way. The scampering of a wild hare, leading him into the right direction. The universe was determined to see them live. And he would not let them down.

Sunrise came and went. He thought the first light of dawn had only just graced upon them, but Lan Zhan blinked, and suddenly the sun was already beginning its slow descent in the sky.

Trudging forward, the baby dragon never gave up. Not wanting night to fall, before he could get Wei Ying to safety. Time was paramount, here.

For Lan Zhan can still feel the soft rise and fall of Wei Ying’s chest against his back, and his shaky, pained breaths airing against his neck.

But he doesn’t know how long the huli jing has to hold onto…

—That’s when it appears to him, just like a dream.

Wei Ying’s dream.

A small and lovely cottage, just outside the woods. Situated right on the periphery of the forest, with the sun hanging in the sky right behind, next to the house are multiple fields—rice fields, vegetable patches, boundless meadows of grass. It’s all Wei Ying ever wanted.

Lan Zhan never ran so fast. Muqin is helping us, again.

He sprints right to the wooden door, and knocks onto it with all of his might. Not even a second later, the door creaks open. A beautiful young woman stands before him, cloaked in red.

At first, she does not see anyone and frowns in confusion. But just before she’s ready to step back in, she hears the light pitter-patter of feet below, and feels a small hand tugging at the hem of her dress. She looks down, her lips parting softly in surprise.

A baby dragon greets her with heavy reddened cheeks and ears, frozen from the cold. His eyes are wide with desperation, pleading with her. But she does not miss the forehead ribbon he wears, bearing the unmistakable sigil of the ruthless Gusu Lan Dragon Clan.

Her gaze turns wary then.

“Please… help me,” Lan Zhan begs when he senses her apprehension, lifting his teary eyes to her. “Wei Ying… my huli jing… he’s hurt.”

He turns to the side, revealing the frail, limp fox draped over his back. Immediately, she changes her mind.

She gently lowers her knees, and carries the fragile creature into her arms. The fox has been lying on Lan Zhan’s back for so long, his body has left a visible indent in the baby dragon’s clothes.

“I’m a healer,” she introduces herself, as she wraps the fox up with a scarf she has conveniently on hand. “I can heal him. Come with me.”

Glancing back at the little dragon, she’s overcome with awe. “How long have you carried him, kid?” she asks in amazement, as they enter the cottage together. “You’re so strong. You must have carried him for hours. People take days to leave that forest.”

Lan Zhan knows the full truth, but shakes his head. He can no longer feel his legs. Nor his back, that’s temporarily hunched over. But still, he insists to her, his gaze locked upon the fox in her arms: “Not… long at all.”

.

.

.

The woman’s name is Wen Qing. She and her younger brother live alone in this cottage, far from civilisation by choice. The world outside is rife with war. But here, in this little home tucked away from everyone else, she can practice medicine in peace, and heal the occasional traveller.

Kneeling by the bedside, she inspects the unconscious fox she had just laid down. Of all creatures that has turned up at her doorstep, a huli jing. And a heavily injured one at that.

She hasn’t seen a fox spirit in years—so few remain in this world. And for a child of the Gusu Lan Dragon clan to be protecting one like this… she might not know what has happened, but she can conjure up some guesses.

Pressing her palm to Wei Ying’s tiny frame, she feels for his weak pulse beneath the thick, soft fur. Lan Zhan watches from a corner of the room, seated near the window. Nervously glancing at the sky outside, every few seconds.

“You got somewhere to be?” she casually asks, without looking up.

Lan Zhan shakes his head, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t dissipate. “Not until Wei Ying wakes up.”

She sighs. “There’s a story here, isn’t there? Why are you so far from your clan?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer.

“Right,” she murmurs, straightening herself up to grab some medicine from the shelf. Her gaze flicks to him in the process, as she says, “I can put two and two together. Huli jings are nearly extinct these days. Whoever hid him all this time must have done it well… but the dragons still ended up getting their claws on him, didn’t they?”

Lan Zhan continues to remain tight-lipped, but she can see that his hands have begun to tremble.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she says at last. “Judging by that forehead ribbon, you’re a direct descendant. The clan has two heirs, don’t they? And you’re the younger one—the one they haven’t let surface in the cultivation world.”

Lan Zhan looked back up at her, shell-shocked. Wen Qing hit every nail on the head.

“If you need to go, go,” Wen Qing tells him. “When he wakes, I’ll tell him you were here.”

Lan Zhan’s shoulders stiffen, his small frame going rigid at the thought. “If I leave now…” his voice wavers, in fear. “I might never see him again.”

Wen Qing’s hands still for a fraction of a second. “But you have to go, don’t you?” she realises.

Rather sadly, the baby dragon nods. Twelve shichens. That is all the time he has. If he does not return, Wei Ying’s family will have to pay the price. His brother never makes empty threats.

And going by the amount of adoration in Wei Ying’s eyes when he spoke about his family, Lan Zhan knew he couldn’t forsake them…

Gathering his resolve, the baby dragon hops off the ledge he’d been seated upon, and makes his way quietly toward the bed. I have to do this for Wei Ying.

“I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye,” Wen Qing says, stepping away. She busies herself at the table, opening her jars and concocting a vial of medicine, pretending not to listen.

Lan Zhan stands over the bed where Wei Ying sleeps, his heart clenching at the very sight. The huli jing looks so small.

Please don’t forget me, he wants so badly to say. Muqin sent you to me. And so, you must be mine.

The Heavens arranged this for us. And so, there must be a reason that we met, you said so yourself.

With quivering hands, he reaches up to untie his forehead ribbon. It is the most sacred thing he owns, the only thing tying him to his lineage—his duty. But also, his undying devotion.

He folds it gently, tucking it into Wei Ying’s small paw, and then brings it to Wei Ying’s chest. With this, I am yours forever. Never to part.

Carefully, the baby dragon leans forward and plants a kiss gently atop the fox’s forehead.

Tears slipping down his cheeks, soaking into the huli jing’s fur.

“I will come back for you,” he vows.

Then and there, the fox twitches as though he has heard him. Very faintly, barely there.

But in the next second, nothing. The moment leaves them, as fast as it’d come.

Lan Zhan draws himself back, blinking back his tears. Turning to Wen Qing, he asks of her, “Will you let him stay here? The world outside is dangerous. And… Wei Ying’s dream is to live in a place like this.”

Wen Qing looks surprised to hear it. “Alright,” she agrees. “Only if he wants to.”

Such a young dragon, and he’s already making such mature requests on behalf of a…friend.

Lan Zhan nods to himself. “Then… it is time for me to take my leave.”

He turns toward the door, but his feet feel heavy, not wishing to move.

The dragon wants so badly to stay.

He glances back at the fox with such a lonesome look on his face, and feels his heart cripple.

“Do you think he will wait for me?” he asks quietly of Wen Qing. Buying himself just a few seconds more.

Wen Qing does not immediately have an answer for him. “He will remember you,” she finally finds the words. “As the dragon who saved him, at the expense of everything else. You were a brave dragon, Lan Wangji. You should be proud of that.”

Lan Zhan’s gaze lowers to the floor, hands curling into fists.

How nice it has been, he thinks.

To have been able to dream with you.

No matter how short a time it had been.

.

.

.

Ten years later

Cloud Recesses burns.

Just as his dreams once did, his brother and his uncle burns—with them. Their grotesque, severed heads now on pikes, Lan Zhan fully strips them of their pride and glory. Reducing the rest of their bodies to nothing, but blood, ash and memory. He is now the sole heir left, by blood. The newest clan leader, by default.

But instead of resolving the chaos and havoc that the clan is now under—all because of him—Lan Zhan takes to the sky, his body twisting into the sinuous, majestic form of a dragon. It has taken him a decade, but he’s finally accomplished his greatest desires.

For ten long years, he has bided his time, dreaming of this day, the moment when he’d spill his family’s blood—and exact the revenge he’d so dreamed of.

And now, he is off to accomplish his last one.

He soars through the skies, the cool winds whispering against his scales as he zeroes in onto the forest. He follows the path his younger self once walked, back when he’d been weak and flightless. It had taken him an entire day back then to leave the forest, a miracle in itself considering how small and feeble he had been.

In his adult dragon form, he reaches the cottage he’d left Wei Ying in—just under an hour.

All these years, he hadn’t felt worthy of standing before Wei Ying again. Not when he was still powerless, with nothing to his name. Without power, he wouldn’t be able to protect Wei Ying.

Today, all of that changes. He has finally done—what needed to be done. He has avenged his beautiful huli jing.

As the clan leader of the dragons, the world finally belongs to him. All creatures that walk this earth will cower at his feet. His very word is law.

And yet when he lands on his pair of mortal feet and stands before a simple wooden door, he still finds himself hesitating.

Wei Ying…never left this place.

True to her word, Wen Qing had let him stay.

Lan Zhan exhales slowly, and gathers all of his courage. Raising a fist, he prepares to knock.

Just then, he hears laughter that—he instantly recognises. Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan’s head snaps around so fast and hard as beautiful, melodic laughter floats through the air, carrying on the breeze like a birdsong. In the distance, a tiny reddish-brown figure streaks across the fields at lightning speed, leaping and bounding through the sea of swaying grass.

The loveliest fox he has ever seen…

Once again, it is spring.

Cherry blossoms shake from the trees above, scattering in the wind like silk petals. As Wei Ying rushes past the bushes, his fur catches the bulk of these twirling and fluttering petals. The golden sun frames his form, as the huli jing leaves cherry blossoms in his wake.

Lan Zhan watches him, utterly spellbound. The huli jing simply takes his breath away.

He’s the most beautiful, when he’s free.

Lan Zhan has imagined this moment a thousand times; dreamed of it more nights than he can count. But no dream has ever done it justice enough.

The wooden door creaks open before him, revealing a much older version of the woman he once met. “…oh, it’s you,” Wen Qing merely says. “You’ve finally returned.”

Lan Zhan quietly answers, “Yes… I have.”

He is not the same dragon she once knew. He has grown—much taller, leaner, with muscles forged by war and a hardness to his gaze honed by vengeance. His baby fat is long gone, his features now sharp, angular—in the ways all dragons are. They’re heavenly creatures, sculpted by the gods themselves. As one of the direct descendants, he is no exception.

Wen Qing shrugs at him, with a knowing smile. “Well… it’s like you never left.”

And Lan Zhan never really did. Gold and treasures had been left at their doorstep over the years, as his silent repayment and thanks; and as the dragon’s way of ensuring Wei Ying would never want for anything, in the time that he was gone.

Wen Qing always knew it was him. She never once breathed a word to Wei Ying about the existence of their mysterious benefactor, of course. She knew better than to do such a thing.

Turning behind, Wen Qing calls out to the fields. “Wei Ying! You have a visitor.”

A voice floats back. “Eh?”

In the blink of an eye, the fox dashes toward them, racing across the grass toward the cottage. Shifting back into his form, a beautiful young man takes his place right before the door, barefoot against the wooden floor.

Wei Ying hadn’t aged a single day. Huli jings aged very slowly, thanks to their high affinity for cultivation. They lived outrageously long lives, for hundreds of thousands of years, much like dragons.

His sweet silver eyes land on Lan Zhan, his gaze growing exceptionally curious at the appearance of this beautiful man. “Who…?” he hesitates, with a hint of shyness in his gaze—and wariness.

He does not have a good history with dragons.

Lan Zhan merely stares back at him, mesmerised by every detail...Wei Ying looks as beautiful as the day he’d lost him. No—even more so now, with fuller cheeks, and a body much meatier, fleshier, now that he is eating well. His fox ears and tail are fatter, thicker. The last time he stood before Wei Ying, too, Lan Zhan barely reached his hip. Now, the grown dragon towers over him by a whole head and a half.

Reaching into his sleeve, Lan Zhan pulls out a single flower.

“I hope you will still allow me to share meals with you,” he softly murmurs to the fox spirit, hoping to jog his memory with his words. “And… read to me before bed. Would you… read again to me?”

Wei Ying’s breath hitches. He can’t be…

His hands tremble as they reach forward, closing over Lan Zhan’s bloodstained hands. Covering the blood with his own warmth.

He doesn’t know what the dragon has done. But he doesn’t care.

Tears slip down his cheeks. It is only then that Lan Zhan’s eyes gaze downwards, and finds the forehead ribbon he’d given him all those years ago—tightly wrapped around the huli jing’s wrist.

The unmistakable sigil of the Gusu Lan Clan, that belonged to Lan Wangji. Lan Zhan forgets to breathe.

Wei Ying had kept it all this while...

“I’m not going anywhere, A-Zhan,” the huli jing smiles, repeating a promise he’d once given to the dragon on a quiet night, the first time they ever met. Speaking to the dragon now, he has to incline his head back a good distance to be able to meet his charming golden eyes—that it makes the fox laugh. “I’ll be right here.”

Behind them, cherry blossoms continued to fall.

But this spring was theirs forever.