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After three years of agony, Lan Wangji left seclusion with his head held high. A-Yuan was there to meet him, his little hand held by Xichen. The boy smiled widely, his eyes lighting up like stars. Now, they could be together every day as father and son instead of visits once a week.
At least, he got more than their mother had. That was his brother’s way of soothing Wangji’s anger over being separated from the boy. The words made him laugh inside, a bitter response to a ridiculous situation.
When he first faced the elders after they dragged him back to Cloud Recesses, he was so wrapped up in guilt, he accepted their punishment without question. He deserved it. He had failed Wei Ying, failed to stand by his side, failed to believe in his goodness, his righteousness. After all, everything he did went against the teachings of his sect.
He had stood against his elders, attacked them even, to protect Wei Ying from their judgement. These righteous people he grew up with did not appreciate his act of disloyalty. He had to be punished. That was the only way to correct him before they lost him for good.
A-Yuan ran to him and jumped in his arms. He held the boy close, closing his eyes and taking in the precious child’s love.
“A-Die, you and I get to be together now, right?” His luminescent eyes peered into Wangji’s, the boy’s desperation for a family a familiar ache to him.
“Mn. Always,” he said with a nod.
Xichen donned his gracious smile for both of them, though worry tugged at his features. “Remember what Uncle Qiren told you, a-Yuan. You’ll see your father, but you are old enough to live in the student dorms now.” He glanced at Wangji, hesitating as if he didn’t want to say the next part. “And it’s best if you call your father Hanguang-jun in public. Save a-die as a special name for him in private, yes?”
The boy nodded, his bottom lip quivering a tiny bit. “Yes, Zewu-jun.”
No. This wouldn’t do. He would not pretend the boy was just another student.
“For now, why don’t you go find Jingyi? I’m sure he’d like to play with you.”
Wangji’s son slipped out of his arms and bowed to them both. “Yes, Zewu-jun, a-D… Hanguang-jun.” He turned and left them, an obedient and proper Lan.
Where was the boy who ran after Wei Ying, laughing out loud and free? He watched his son disappear down the path. Already, a distance had spread between them. Already, the cold discipline of Cloud Recesses had set its hooks in the boy.
“Wangji,” his brother called, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Uncle requests your presence in his office. Now that you are out of seclusion, there are still some restrictions to endure until you have proven your loyalty to your sect and clan. I tried to reassure the elders and Uncle of your devotion, but they are still worried about any influence Wei… that may cause you conflict.”
Wangji didn’t look at his brother. As righteous as he was, Xichen would not believe in Wei Ying’s innocence. He knew his brother still held anger for his beloved, believing Wei Ying teased and flirted with him only to push him away in the end. It hurt to think that, but Wei Ying didn’t owe him affection, especially after Wangji failed to stand by him time and again.
Sometimes, he cursed his inability to put things into words. So many times, he wanted Wei Ying to understand his intentions only to present them the wrong way.
“Mn.” He bowed to his brother. “Will freshen up first.”
“All right.” Xichen reached out to him, but Wangji pulled away. He let his hand drop, his smile faltering. “I’ll inform Uncle you’ll see him in an hour. That should give you enough time to get yourself settled in the Jingshi again.”
“Mn.”
He headed to his quarters, numb to the beauty of a place he once called home. Wei Ying wanted to protect his reputation, keep him from getting dirty by association. Wangji didn’t care about any of that anymore. He wasn’t even sure if it ever meant anything to him. All he knew was the sun had left his life and everything was cold now. The only warmth lay in the eyes of a little boy who didn’t remember his first family.
Upon entering the Jingshi, he paused for a moment, unsure of what he really wanted to do. As a proper disciple and filial nephew, he should have a bath and put on fresh robes. He should be quick and efficient too, so as to not keep his uncle waiting. Those were the things he should do.
Instead, he took out a qiankun bag and filled it with the few belongings he found precious. He removed the box holding the few things he had of Wei Ying’s and packed them first. After, he gathered up some extra robes and the chest that held his portion of his inheritance from his father..
At one time, he was going to donate the money to his sect to help with repairs. His uncle was too proud to accept, insisting the funds the Jin sect loaned them was enough. Now, they were indebted to Jin Guangshan. Well, that was their choice. Xichen trusted Jin Guangyao more than he trusted anyone else. Whatever faith his brother once had in him had dissolved the moment the Jin came into their lives. It hurt and upset him at first, but he could do nothing about it.
Then he thought he might give the money to Wei Ying to help him and the Wen Remnants survive. But he moved too slow, fearful of his sect’s disapproval, fearful of losing his uncle’s good opinion. All his life, he followed the rules, fearing breaking them would cause him to lose another person he loved. Well, he kept the rules and lost Wei Ying. The rules didn’t mean much anymore.
Once he had gathered up his belongings, he picked up his sword and left the Jingshi to find his son. He could not bring himself to report to his uncle. As far as he was concerned, the man who helped raise him died the moment he allowed the whip to tear his flesh. The man’s hatred for Wei Ying was unjust, fed by a hatred of a woman, who dared to challenge him.
Wangji followed the giggles floating through the air like precious butterflies. They led him to the pavilion just outside the disciples’ quarters. As he rounded one of the buildings, he caught sight of a stern-faced elder glaring at the two children.
“Too much noise! You will copy the rules ten times. Maybe that will make them finally sink into your thick head, Jingyi!”
“Yes, elder,” the boys said, bowing.
The man huffed and stormed off, his head held high as though he had just diverted a great injustice. Once he was gone, a-Yuan wrapped his arm around Jingyi and hugged him tight.
“It’s okay, Jingyi. Don’t pay attention to him. He’s just stuffy.”
The other boy sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I’m always in trouble. I try to follow the rules, I do, but there are so many.”
A-Yuan sighed like he was ancient. “I know. I don’t mind the basic ones, but some of them I don’t understand.”
“Me neither.”
“Maybe we will some day.”
Jingyi sniffed again, more tears falling. “I miss my parents.”
Another sigh escaped a-Yuan, almost breaking Wangi’s heart. “I miss mine too.”
“At least you’ve got your a-Die.”
“But I don’t remember my mom.” This time, a-Yuan burst into tears.
“What if I forget my parents too?” Jingyi gasped, his expression one of horror.
Both boys dissolved into sobs, their little chests heaving with grief.
“We can’t cry,” a-Yuan said, trying to wipe both their faces. “Excessive grief isn’t allowed. If the elder comes back, he might paddle us.”
That was the final push to solidify Wangji’s resolve. He wiped away his own tears and strode up to the boys. They rushed to make themselves presentable, fearing punishment.
Heart breaking, he scooped them into his arms and held them, humming the only song that brought him comfort.
“Would you boys like to go on a trip?” he asked as they clung to him.
“We’re not in trouble?” Jingyi asked.
“No,” he said, walking as they talked. He headed toward the back mountains, keeping out of sight in case anyone tried to stop him. “You are perfect. Trip might be long. Might not come back for long time. You two okay with that?”
“Will there be rules on this trip?” Jingyi asked, his round face turning thoughtful.
“Only ones to keep you safe,” Wangji assured him, working hard to speak clearly.
“I’ll go anywhere with you, a-Die. As long as we get to stay together,” a-Yuan said, wrapping his arms around Wangji’s neck.
“I will too, but do I have to call you Hanguang-jun? It’s a lot to say in a hurry.”
Wangji huffed, a tiny smile touching his lips. “Both should call me a-Die, no matter who’s around.”
The two children shouted their joy, making him wince. Carrying them pulled at his scars, but he didn’t care. They kept walking until he figured he was far enough away for anyone to notice them. He took out Bichen and stepped on the blade. The boys gasped as they rose in the air.
During his time in seclusion, he concentrated on strengthening his core, making it even stronger than before. Despite this, he could not fly forever. The wounds to his back would never quite heal fully. After following the coastline for several hours, he stopped to rest by a stream that fed into the ocean.
Even though they had slept for most of the flight, the boys were weary too. They sat by the stream, dipping their toes in the water while he caught some fish to eat. He started a small fire, careful to use only dried wood that wouldn’t smoke. Both boys delighted in being able to roast their own food, and he let them chatter away as they ate. The sound soothed him, his mind drifting to Wei Ying and how he would talk through almost anything.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself together, not wanting to upset his young companions. Instead, he stripped down to his underclothes and lay in a calmer part of the stream. The cold water eased the pain in his back. Before he knew it, his sons joined him, splashing each other with icy waves. He let them play while he rested.
They needed different clothes and to lose the ribbons. Otherwise, everyone would recognise them no matter where they went. He didn’t really have a plan, which was strange for him, but he embraced the uncomfortable feeling of the unknown and kept his eye on his goal - to get as far away from Gusu as he could.
After a long rest, the three walked along the shore. The children played along the way, poking the sand with sticks and studying everything with innocent curiosity. Wangji enjoyed their freedom to be young and excited about life. Jingyi and a-Yuan could run and giggle loudly without anyone scolding them for being kids.
Still, he kept an eye out for Lan cultivators. They kept close to the edge of the forest just in case they had to slip into the cover of the trees. So far, the skies remained clear.
An hour later, they came upon a fishing village. The place wasn’t big, but it had a few shops and a two-room inn.
Before they entered the town, he removed their headbands, outer robes, and anything else that might mark them as cultivators or Lans.
“Are we no longer Lans?” Jingyi asked, his little fingers rubbing at the spot where his forehead ribbon once sat.
“Maybe one day we will be again. For now, I am Wangji or a-Die, and you are Jingyi.” He turned to a-Yuan, who blinked up at him, his round face curious and expectant. “And you are Sizhui.”
The boy smiled as Wangji cupped his cheek. That bright grin was so much like Wei Ying’s, it tore through his heart.
“Is that my courtesy name?” his son asked.
“Mn.” Wangji kissed him on the top of his head.
“I like it. Sizhui. Jingyi, I have a courtesy name now!”
The other boy nudged him. “I know, silly. I’m standing right here.”
“Jingyi,” Wangji said.
The child bowed. “Yes, Hanguang-jun? I mean, a-Die.”
He huffed a small laugh. “We let go of the ribbons, but regulate our actions just the same. Words between each other need accountability.”
Regret tugged at him as he remembered his own words of dismissal toward Wei Ying. It was easy to see why his soulmate had rejected him in the end. ‘Get lost!’ Hadn’t he said the very same words when he couldn’t face his attraction to his beloved. Now, it was too late.
“Jingyi, you and Sizhui are friends, brothers. Treasure each other.”
“Yes, a-Die,” they answered together and hugged each other.
“A-Die, where are we sleeping tonight? a-Yuan asked with a yawn.
“There’s an inn over there.” He pointed toward a two-story building with a rough porch and a sign indicating vacant rooms.
Wangji led the boys over and was greeted by a portly man with smiling eyes. He asked for a room, a bath, and some food, citing two tired boys to avoid any questions. That night, his sons curled up together like kittens on the bed while he rested on a mat on the floor. A part of him still marveled at what he had done.
“Wei Ying,” he whispered, careful not to wake the boys, “Would you be proud of me for leaving? I promise you I will take care of our son and his new brother. You would like Jingyi. He’s a handful, just like you.” He signed and closed his eyes, his thoughts filled with a sunshine smile and a joyful laugh.
The next day, he managed to purchase more suitable clothes for himself and his sons. The simple, rough robes would work to disguise their Lan roots. He also bought red ribbons for their hair. It was an indulgence, maybe, but he refused to forget his love. With that in mind, he tied their robes with white sashes to indicate mourning. If people assumed he had lost his wife, well, he had. As for Bichen, he kept his blade and gunqin together in his qiankun bag. It was chancy to travel without his sword handy, but he had no way of disguising the sheath yet.
They might expect him to fly, so he could get as far away as fast as he could. Then again, his brother might decide he would travel by foot to hide easier. He pondered his options as they strolled through the town, Jingyi and Sizhui fascinated by the fishermen and boats.
Sizhui turned a little green at the sight of the wooden vessels bobbing up and down with the waves.
“You okay?” Jingyi asked, patting Sizhui’s back gently.
“Queasy,” the boy answered, turning away.
An older woman stopped and studied his children as she was passing. Wangji tensed, ready to grab them and run, but she just gave a toothy grin and pulled out some ginger treats. “Here, boy. This will settle your tummy.”
After glancing toward Wangji for permission, Sizhui took two candies and handed one to Jingyi. They bowed and thanked her for her kindness.
“Aw, no need,” she said with a bright giggle. “I know a fellow lander when I see one.”
“You have trouble with boats too?” Jingyi asked, peering up at her.
“Oh, yes. You wouldn’t think so since I’ve been married to a fisherman all my life, but oh, it isn’t pretty if I go boating without my ginger.” She handed her bag of candies to Sizhui. “You take these. I have more at home.”
Wangji tried to pay her for them, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “A good deed is good luck. Means more fish. That’s good enough for me.”
Her eye caught their mourning sashes as she assessed their situation. Pity coloured her weathered features. “You boys looking to go fishing?”
“Mn,” Wangji responded before deciding he needed to say more. “Looking for better living. Lost our home.” The words ‘and their mother’ hung in the air. He hadn’t lied. She could take his meaning however she wanted.
“To be so young to lose so much.” She clicked her tongue, the corners of her mouth turned down in sympathy. “Well, you might find a boat of your own down by the docks. I think there are one or two for sale. Every so often we get someone new here, determined to try their hand at fishing. Sometimes they stay; sometimes they realise it’s more work than they thought. Well, I gotta keep going. Chickens need food and I need to rest my feet.” She patted his sons with her rough hands and bowed before leaving.
Later that day, Wangji bought a boat big enough for the three of them to live on and enough supplies to keep them going for a few weeks. Early the next morning, he bundled his children onto the boat and set sail, following the coast line.
Xichen and his uncle would not expect him to travel by water. True, he didn’t have much experience sailing the ocean, but he trusted his abilities to adapt. By the third day, he had sorted out any issues and settled into a routine that kept them moving and the boys happy. Even Sizhui had adjusted with the help of the ginger candies and lots of meditation.
They made another stop in Zhoushan before sailing around the southeastern side of the continent. After another month, they docked in a seaside town far away from Gusu and the cultivation world. Weary from their journey, they sold the boat and travelled inland until they came upon a tiny village near a wide, calm river.
As autumn came in an array of colours and cooler days, Wangji bought a piece of property big enough for a vegetable garden, a few chickens, and a couple of goats for milk. He had a three room house built with a kitchen off the garden. The boys wanted to share a room, so he made the spare one his study. Everything was snug and ready by the time winter hit.
He spent the colder season teaching the boys their lessons and making more plans for the future. They were happy in their little world, and even got to know some of their neighbours and townspeople. Before he knew it, he had a few more children to teach, which gave his sons the opportunity to make friends.
The next spring, he cleared some of the trees surrounding their property and made a training ground. Once it was ready, he started the boys out with wooden swords and basic moves. While he taught them about cultivation and the five arts, they taught him how to open up and share his heart.
Despite the beauty of their home and their pleasant life, the empty ache in Wangji never went away. Every night he played inquiry, hoping to reach his soulmate. The silence that met his call ached long into the next day.
Over the next ten years, he watched his sons grow into strong, talented cultivators willing to help anyone in need. They travelled together on night hunts as rogue cultivators but stayed away from any sect.
When Jingyi and Sizhui were gone, the heaviness of Wangji’s grief nearly crippled him. In the quiet of the evenings he would walk along the river, trying to keep himself together.
Sometimes, he missed his brother and even his uncle, but he wouldn’t go back. He lost too much in Cloud Recesses. If he could live his life all over again, he would grab Wei Ying and run. They could go back to rescue the Dafan Wen and Jingyi if he lost his parents again, but otherwise, the cultivation world would have to save itself.
As twilight settled in, he caught the soft notes of a dizi drifting on the summer air. The song made him stop in his tracks. It couldn’t be. Heart pounding, he followed the music, hoping to find the musician. He rounded the corner of the river and came upon a slender, young man leaning against a donkey and playing a dizi.
It couldn’t be. This wasn’t real.
Yes, he wore all black and a red ribbon in his hair. Yes, he played the dizi, but… but the song. Their song. No one else knew it except him and the boys.
Wangji slowed his steps and approached carefully in case he scared the illusion away.
“Wei Ying?” he called, and the young man turned, staring at him with a pale face and grey eyes.
It was him. It had to be.
“Ah, I’m sorry?”
The voice was different, but the way he moved and rubbed the back of his neck. Oh, that awkward smile he used when he wanted to get out of trouble.
“Wei Ying,” Wangji said again, his legs heavy as he forced them to move him nearer. What if he was imagining things? What if he had yearned for his beloved for so long, he conjured up an illusion to ease his pain?
They were only a foot apart. He could reach out and touch him if he had the courage.
“It is you, isn’t it?” he said, barely able to get the words out.
“Aiya, I don’t know…” He stopped as Wangji came closer, drawn to him like the waves to the shore.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, his beautiful eyes wide in recognition.
A laugh, his laugh, escaped lips so like his, yet different.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, it is you. I almost didn’t recognise you. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Gusu? They said you were in seclusion.”
“Left. Couldn’t stay anymore. Lost too much.” He moved in, and Wei Ying leaned back against the donkey.
“Oh.” He licked his lips, his gaze creasing with worry. “I guess that makes sense. ‘Cause of the war and all.”
“Mn. Lost you. Hurt too much. Missed Wei Ying.”
He laughed heartily at that. “Now, that doesn’t make sense. You hate me, remember?”
“No. Never hate Wei Ying. Wanted to save Wei Ying, protect Wei Ying.”
“Oh, you did?”
“Mn. Love Wei Ying.”
“You do?”
“Only Wei Ying.”
“Only - oh.” His beloved relaxed and leaned toward him.
“Love Lan Zhan, only Lan Zhan.”
They moved closer, their world narrowing down to just the two of them. Inches away from each other, the damn donkey bellowed and knocked Wei YIng off balance. Wangji caught him in his arms and vowed to never let him go.
After Wei Ying woke up in the body of Mo Xuanyu, he helped the baby Lan disciples with the Mo family. Unfortunately - or fortunately for him - the family died which fulfilled his part of the ritual. He didn’t recognise the senior Lan, who responded to the distress signal from the juniors. With a new life and a second or third chance - really, he had lost track by now - he decided to leave the cultivation world behind. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was run into Jiang Cheng or any of the dozens of people who still wanted him dead.
He definitely didn’t want to stumble onto Lan Zhan. The great Hanguang-jun would probably cut him down the moment he saw him. Though death wouldn’t be so bad. It was quiet, and he could rest. He supposed those were his two choices, disappear or die. Well, maybe he could do a little travelling before dying again. After all, death only required dying while wandering needed one to be alive.
With this plan, he borrowed a donkey from the Mo stables and a few coins from their house. After all, they probably owed Mo Xuanyu more than he scrounged up. Hungry, he stopped by their kitchen and filled a bag with some edibles to keep him going for a few days.
Once he left the village, he paused to decide which way to go. Forward would bring him to Gusu, Qinghe, and a few other places too righteous for him to survive. Right was a straight trail to the Jin, and that was never gonna happen. He had no idea what was left of the former territory of the Wen, but it held too many bad memories for him to want to visit ever again.
That left south. Yunmeng was south. Jiang Cheng was south. He shivered at that idea.
If he kept going north, he might be able to escape into the upper regions, but winters that way were far too cold for his new, weak body to handle.
He’d have to work on his core if he wanted to travel anywhere physically challenging. At some point, he needed to get a sword. Poor Suibian; his beautiful blade was probably hanging as a trophy on someone’s wall.
For now, he would make himself a new dizi. Musical cultivation wasn’t a bad idea, and he could work on talismans too. If there was one thing that came naturally to him, it was strengthening a golden core.
A thrill ran through him. He had a golden core again. Though he never thought he would miss it, even the small, spinning ball in this body’s dantian eased a pain in his soul he never admitted was there.
After a few moments, he almost decided to go north when he heard the conversation of a passing group of cultivators. The Jin, Jiang, and Lan were night hunting on Dafan mountain. That meant they were close. Well, south it is. If he travelled fast enough, he could make it through Jiang territory before anyone returned home. He could even slip through Yiling and into open territory. From there, he could head to the east coast, since heading west would lead to the desert and less hospitable places. Besides, he always wanted to see the ocean.
With this in mind, he headed out, leading his donkey by an apple tied to a string. For the most part, he avoided cities and towns, keeping to the peace of the woods and fields. On his second day of new life, he finally found a piece of bamboo good enough to make a new dizi out of. He took his time carving it, combining both Yin and Yang energy into the fibers and making the wood shine with white gold. This spiritual weapon could heal the living and command the dead. The tone was sweet with a clear, strong resonance.
Once his dizi was done, he played the song that sustained him. The melody soothed him and brought to mind a certain cultivator.
Ah, Lan Zhan, do you still mourn for the world? It didn’t matter. He would probably never see his fuddy duddy again. Somehow, that hurt more than anything. Could he really live a life where he never saw Lan Zhan’s beautiful face or those golden eyes again? Could he really exist, yet never tease his dear soulmate until his ears turned red and his composed mask fell away? The very thought of being in the world without ever seeing his Lan again brought up feelings he couldn’t identify.
The more he travelled, the more these swirling emotions nagged at him. Everytime he faced a monster or ghost, it was Lan Zhan he wished was by his side. With every new experience, he longed to share it with his friend. Just because Hanguang-jun didn’t think of them as friends, didn’t mean he couldn’t.
Did Lan Zhan miss him? Did he even think of him? If he did, did he burn paper money for him or remember him with kindness? That was silly. Everything Wei Ying did went against the very heart of Gusu Lan’s teaching. The heartache this caused confused him. Yet, he could do nothing about it. Yes, he didn’t make the best choices in his last life, but what else could he do? Turn over the Wens? Let Jin Guangshan have the tiger seal? Tell Jiang Cheng about the core transfer? None of these things would help remove the disgrace of embracing demonic cultivation in the first place.
The Wens didn’t deserve to die. Jin Guangshan would destroy the world with the power of the seal. And Jiang Cheng? He would hate him even more for destroying his pride in his achievements. To Wei Ying, giving him his core was like giving him a bow. He may have made the bow, but Jiang Cheng was the one who wielded it. Why couldn’t his brother see that?
Tired of sleeping on the ground, he decided to risk a night at an inn. After all, nobody on the edge of society would know much about him.
The innkeeper bowed as he entered, a kind woman with a young daughter by her side. “My husband is in the stables. He will gladly take care of your donkey,” she said as she gave him a key to his room. “Would you like anything else?”
“Ah, a bath, some food, and alcohol,” he said, looking forward to a long soak.
“Right away.”
He spent the rest of the night pampering himself and dreaming about his days in Cloud Recesses.
The next morning, he left early instead of sleeping until noon like he usually did. His dreams left him unsettled. No one would talk to him. Even Lan Zhan seemed immune to his teasing. It hurt so much to have his favourite Lan walk past him as though he didn’t exist. Maybe he didn’t, not anymore. To everyone who knew him, he was dead and they were happy about it.
Eager to avoid his thoughts, he left the inn and headed to the market. The few coins he had left were enough for a few supplies, especially apples for his stubborn donkey. As he wandered around, he listened for any interesting gossip.
“You might want to hide that dizi,” the fruit merchant said as he passed over the bag of apples.
“Why?” he asked, confused.
A huff of sour laughter came from the man. “This close to Jiang territory, it isn’t safe for anyone with a hint of demonic cultivation let alone carrying something so linked to the Yiling Patriarch.”
His gut churned. “I thought he was dead.”
Another snort. “Yeah, but that’s not enough for the Jiang leader. Anyone suspected of following the Patriarch’s path is dragged off to Lotus Pier. I got a cousin who had a stall near Lotus Pier. Had to leave. Couldn’t stand the screams. He made the mistake of bringing over a delivery once and caught sight of them dragging a shredded body out for burning. Nearly threw up at the sight. Left the next day. He said the way the Jiang sect ignored requests and bullied people was bad enough, but slaughter and torture is going too far.”
Wei Ying’s brain stalled. He knew Jiang Cheng hated him, but to torture and kill people - oh, Chengcheng.
After retrieving his donkey, he continued on his way. Every so often he stopped to put some poor soul to rest. The war had left a plethora of unhappy spirits wandering about. It confused him further to think that no one was willing to take care of them.
Aside from ghosts, he also found the odd weapon - a broken bow, a rusted sword, most of them were not much good anymore. He did collect every decent arrow he could on the off chance of finding a good bow.
After a few days of good weather, the skies decided to give him a bath and dumped enough water on him to fill a lake. Soaked to the skin, he struggled to find shelter amid the thick underbrush. His donkey didn’t help. The stubborn animal took off through the bushes, dragging him along.
He did his best to follow, though he picked up more than a few scrapes and scratches. As he cursed Apple, the donkey dragged him into the remains of a cabin. Part of the roof was still good, so he and Apple huddled in the driest part. Exhausted, he still managed to build a fire on the dirt floor, using whatever dry bits of wood he could find. He still had a couple of fire talismans which made it easier to get things burning. After he had some decent flames going, he removed most of his clothes and draped them over a broken table to dry. He removed the packs from Apple and took out some fresh robes. Once he was warm and dry again, he ate some of his rations and watched the rain drench the area around him.
A few minutes later, a young man approached from the other side of the building. The poor guy looked miserable, so Wei Ying waved him over.
“Hey. Come on and get dry,” he said, glad to have some company.
The young cultivator shuffled nearer, his sword tip dragging in the dirt.
“That’s not the best way to treat a blade,” he said, making the young man stop in confusion. “Why don’t you dry it and put it in its sheath?
His strange companion blinked again before holding the weapon out to Wei Ying. This time, it was Wei Ying’s turn to stare in confusion. The cultivator didn’t wear any sect robes; therefore, he had to be a rogue. Well, that would explain his lack of proper comportment.
Wei Ying took the blade with a tentative smile. It wasn’t bad, similar to Suibian in design, though a little thicker through the body. Still, with the proper cultivating, it had the potential to be a powerful blade. The rogue must have paid a pretty pile of coins for it.
“Nice,” he said, trying to hand the man back his weapon.
Tears flowed down the young man’s face, making Wei Ying desperate to cheer him up.
“Oh, don’t do that. I can’t stand crying. Makes me all shivery. Here, how about I clean the blade for you?” He took out a cloth from his supplies and polished the metal until it shone. “See? Isn’t that better?”
Now that the muck was gone, he could read the name. “Sùiyùe, the passage of time. Beautiful name, kind of sad, though. Did you pick it?”
The young man didn’t answer. Instead, he dropped the plain sheath and bowed. Wei Ying bowed back, still trying to give the cultivator back his weapon.
They watched each other for quite a while before Wei Ying realized what he was missing. To be fair, the dark, drenched robes hid a lot. Still, he should have noticed the gaping hole in the cultivator’s abdomen. This was a ghost, a lost spirit, who had never been through any kind of soul-settling ceremony.
After expelling a long breath, Wei Ying pulled out his dizi. “Would you like to hear a song?”
The spirit nodded, and he played Rest. Smiling, the cultivator closed his eyes before fading from view.
Wei Ying put down his instrument. The sword still lay on his lap with the sheath where the ghost dropped it. Well, he didn’t have a companion, but he did have a blade now. He sheathed the weapon and held onto it as he tried to get some sleep.
For the next several weeks, he spent a few hours recalling moves and working through patterns. Suiyue responded well to him, apparently delighted at being used again. A delightful taste of joy filled Wei Ying at being able to cultivate with a sword again. It brought back memories of cultivating when he was young. Maybe Suiyue was perfect after all.
What surprised him the most was the blade’s acceptance of demonic and spiritual energy. Perhaps, it was because Suiyue spent so much time with a ghost. Like his dizi, which he still hadn’t named, the combination of the braided energy made the sword stronger, reacting faster to his every command.
Céngjīng, the name came to him in the midst of his thoughts. Maybe it was because he spent most of his time alone these days, but he liked it - a reference to a past life, now lost to the passage of time. And lost love. The thought unsettled him. Had he ever been loved? Shijie did in her own way, but his memories of her actions confused him.
The Wen remnants loved him in the end, trying to protect him with their lives. Or did they feel they owed him? No. they were willing to die for him. Shijie died for him too, in the end. Love wasn’t perfect.
Jiang Cheng tried to kill him, though he didn’t blame him. If everything really was his fault, then his brother had every right to hate him.
Then there was Lan Zhan. The fuddy duddy confused him the most. He vaguely remembered the man saying something to him after Nightless City. Images and flashes of him fighting others. Were they wearing Lan colours too? Ah, it was all so unclear in his head. Most things were. Maybe that was for the best. So many things weren’t worth remembering.
Oh, he was spending too much time alone.
More weeks went by, and he delighted in the progress of his core. As it grew in strength, so did his body. Though they both had a long way to go, he liked to think he would reach the same level he had before he gave away his core.
Ah, Jiang Cheng. It saddened him how his didi’s life had gone. His brother had the potential to be a great sect leader. Yet, every rumour he heard painted a picture of an angry, bitter person, who disdained to help unless someone had died and trained cultivators of a similar nature. Was that his fault too? No. He couldn’t take responsibility for his brother’s actions when he was dead. At some point, Jiang Cheng had to face his own mistakes.
Then again, rumours were just that. Who knew what the truth was? Sure, it made sense when he heard Lan Zhan had gone into seclusion at Cloud Recesses. He also heard something about some son of Jin Guangshen causing trouble. He didn’t care. That was politics, and he was never good at politics.
Yeah, he was definitely spending too much time alone. The problem was, he didn’t know how to fix that. Yes, he chatted with people along his way, and even spent a couple of nights enjoying the company of farmers and families when he helped them on night hunts. Yet, that wasn’t the same as having someone by your side.
Again, the thought of Lan Zhan popped in his head. Once, he had imagined them night hunting together and even being cultivation partners. That was a longing he never lost even in his darkest days. Well, the best dreams didn’t always come true.
At twilight, he stopped by a stream, his head a muddle of emotions. Taking out Cengjing, he tried to settle his nerves by playing his favourite song. If only he knew the name of it.
“Wei Ying?” a familiar voice called, nearly making him jump out of his skin.
Lan Zhan. It was him. It had to be. Then again, the clothes were different, and where was his forehead ribbon - not to mention he actually had an expression on his face, though what it meant, he had no idea. This didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t good, either. Oh, boy. He rubbed the back of his nec, and managed an awkward smile.
“Ah, I’m sorry?”
“Wei Ying,” the man said again, moving nearer.
Oh, no, no, no. Not so close. This did too many things to him. His heart started pounding. Why? But this was Lan Zhan, right? No one was as amazing as his Lan Zhan. Oh, all the beauty in his countenance and eyes still shone.
They were only a foot apart. He could reach out and touch him if he had the courage.
“It is you, isn’t it?” the man he hoped was Lan Zhan said, barely able to get the words out.
“Aiya, I don’t know…” He stopped as he came closer, drawn to him like the waves to the shore.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, trying to understand the Lan’s strange behaviour. He laughed, unable to deny it any longer. “Ah, Lan Zhan, it is you. I almost didn’t recognise you. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in Gusu? I heard you were in seclusion.”
“Left. Couldn’t stay anymore. Lost too much.” He moved in, and Wei Ying leaned back against the donkey.
“Oh.” He licked his lips, worried. Was his soulmate going to stab him or what? “I guess that makes sense. ‘Cause of the war and all.”
“Mn. Lost you. Hurt too much. Missed Wei Ying.”
He laughed heartily at that. “Now, that doesn’t make sense. You hate me, remember?”
“No. Never hate Wei Ying. Wanted to save Wei Ying, protect Wei Ying.”
What? His brain stalled, his heart beating out of his chest. This couldn’t be. Maybe it was an illusion. Maybe he had been alone too long. “Oh, you did?”
“Mn. Love Wei Ying.”
“You do?”
“Only Wei Ying.”
“Only - oh.” He relaxed and leaned toward him, unable to resist. Lan Zhan loved him. All at once, the whole world crashed in on him, and the reason he could not forget about this man throughout his many lives came clear. “Love Lan Zhan, only Lan Zhan.”
They moved closer, their world narrowing down to just the two of them. Inches away from each other, the damn donkey bellowed and knocked Wei YIng off balance. Lan Zhan caught him in his arms and vowed to never let him go.