Chapter 112: WangXian

Three months later. Guangling.

On a hilltop, a group of villagers clutching torches and farm tools for weapons slowly closed in on a patch of forest above.

This mountain had a stretch of unmarked graves, and for months now it hadn't been peaceful. The villagers below had been harassed by the wandering dead from those graves until they finally couldn't take it anymore. They invited a few cultivators passing through to come up the mountain and wipe out the source of the trouble.

As dusk fell, the insects sang clear, and the waist-high wild grass kept rustling, as if something unknown lurked inside, waiting to strike at any moment. But when you nervously pushed the grass aside and shone a torch in, it was almost always a false alarm.

Those few cultivators, swords in hand, led the villagers as they carefully crossed the grass and entered the forest.

Inside the forest lay that stretch of unmarked graves. The damaged tombstones, stone and wood alike, leaned at crooked angles or lay toppled over, and an eerie wind moaned through. The cultivators exchanged a look, drew out Exorcism Talismans, and prepared to start clearing the evil. Seeing how calm they looked, the situation probably wasn't too dire, and a few of the villagers exhaled in relief.

But before that breath had fully left them, a loud bang rang out, and a blood-and-flesh corpse slammed down onto a mound right in front of them.

The villager nearest that mound screamed, tossed his torch, and scrambled away on hands and feet. Right behind it, a second, a third, a fourth blood-soaked corpse came tumbling down, like a rain of bodies falling from the sky, thudding one after another. The forest instantly erupted in screaming. Those cultivators had never seen anything like this. Shaken, they hadn't lost their nerve, and the leader barked, 'Don't run! Don't panic! It's just a minor evil—'

Before he could finish, it was as if someone had grabbed him by the throat. His voice cut off short.

He saw a tree.

Someone was sitting in the tree. A length of black robe hung down, and one slender black boot swung gently—so at ease, so content.

At this person's waist was tucked a dark, shadowy flute, with a blood-red tassel hanging beneath it, swaying lazily along with the movement of his leg.

The cultivators' faces changed on the spot.

The villagers had already lost their nerve, and hearing him shout had just given them a bit of backbone. But then they saw those cultivators all go pale at once, turn, and bolt like a gust of wind straight out of the forest and down the mountain, abandoning them without a second thought. The villagers figured there had to be some terrifying great evil up here, something even cultivators couldn't handle, and in an instant their souls left their bodies. They scattered like startled birds in the blink of an eye, every last one of them gone. One villager was slow on the draw and brought up the rear, took a tumble, and ended up with a mouthful of mud. He thought he was done for, alone and dead, when suddenly he spotted a young man in white standing ahead, and his eyes lit up on their own.

The man had a sword at his waist, and seemed to be wrapped in a hazy white glow. In the dim forest he looked almost ethereal, like he didn't belong to the mortal world. The villager begged him at once, 'Sir! This sir! Help, there's ghosts! Quick, quick, kill this—'

Before the words were out, another corpse dropped right in front of him. That face, with blood streaming from every orifice, met his eyes square on.

Just as the villager was about to faint from fright, the man said one word to him: 'Go.'

Though it was only one word, the villager felt an inexplicable calm, as if he'd been granted a royal pardon. A sudden rush of strength came over him, and he scrambled up and fled without looking back.

The man in white looked at the blood-soaked corpses crawling all over the forest floor, as if he didn't quite know what to make of it. He looked up, and the black-clothed guest who'd been sitting in the tree hopped down lightly, flashed to his side in an instant, and pressed him against a tree, murmuring, 'Oh, if it isn't the pure-as-jade Han Guang Jun Lan Wangji. What are you doing on my turf?'

All around them, blood-soaked corpses crawled across the ground, some blank, some vicious. This person stretched one hand out against the tree trunk, and Lan Wangji was pinned between his body and the bark, expressionless.

He heard the man say again, 'Since you've delivered yourself right to my door, then I'll— hey, hey, hey!'

Lan Wangji had, with one hand, locked both his wrists.

The tables turned, and the black-clothed man, now the one pinned, said in surprise, 'Oh my, Han Guang Jun, you're amazing, I can't believe it, shocking, unbelievable, you actually took me down with one hand. I can't fight back at all! What a terrifying man!'

Lan Wangji: '...'

His grip tightened without him meaning to. The other man's surprise turned to panic: 'Ah, that hurts. Let me go, Han Guang Jun, I won't dare do it again. Don't grab me like this anymore, and please don't tie me up, and definitely don't press me to the ground—'

Watching his words and actions grow more and more theatrical, the corner of Lan Wangji's brow twitched, and he finally spoke to cut him off: '...Stop playing around.'

Wei Wuxian, who was just getting into begging for mercy, said in surprise, 'Why? I haven't finished begging yet.'

'...' Lan Wangji said, 'You beg for mercy every single day. Stop playing.'

Wei Wuxian leaned in close and murmured, 'Isn't this what you asked for... Every day is every day.'

His face was so close, as if he meant to kiss Lan Wangji, but he kept holding back, refusing to actually press in. Between their lips there was always a paper-thin gap, near and far, there and not there—like a flirtatious, mischievous butterfly hovering breathlessly over a dignified flower petal, about to land but not landing, about to kiss but not kissing. After a moment of this teasing, Lan Wangji's pale eyes flickered, and he moved slightly, as if he could finally hold back no longer, the flower petal about to reach out and touch the butterfly's wing. But Wei Wuxian suddenly tipped his face up and dodged his lips.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Call me gege.'

Lan Wangji: '...'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Call me gege. Call me gege and I'll let you kiss me.'

'...' Lan Wangji's lips moved, just slightly.

In his whole life he had never used this soft-sounding address on anyone. Even with Lan Xichen, he had always, strictly and properly, called him xiongzhang. Wei Wuxian coaxed, 'Call once, let me hear it. I've called you that so many times. After you call it and we kiss, we can do other things too.'

Even if Lan Wangji had been on the verge of saying it, hearing that line was enough to defeat him, and in the end he couldn't get it out. He held it in for a while, and only managed: '...Shameless!'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Aren't you tired holding me with just one hand? Only one hand free is so inconvenient.'

Steadying himself, Lan Wangji, in a manner that seemed perfectly polite, said, 'Then please, what should I do?'

Wei Wuxian said, "I'll teach you, then — just take off your Blue Clan Forehead Band and tie my hands with it, won't that be easier?"

Lan Wangji quietly watched the grinning him for a moment, then slowly removed the forehead band and unfolded it to show Wei Wuxian.

Then, with the speed of a thunderclap, he tied a knot around both his wrists, pressed Wei Wuxian's two unruly hands firmly up above his head and pinned them there, and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Just at that moment, a scream came from the grass.

The two of them split apart at once. Lan Wangji put his hand on the hilt of Bichen Sword, but didn't draw rashly, because that scream had been clear and high-pitched—obviously a child. If they accidentally hurt a bystander, that would be bad. The waist-high grass rustled, the trail of movement getting farther and farther away—it looked like whoever it was had run off. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji chased a few steps, and from down the slope came a woman's voice, overjoyed: 'Mianmian, are you okay! How can you run around in a place like this? You scared your mother to death!'

Wei Wuxian blinked. 'Mianmian?'

He'd just been thinking the name sounded awfully familiar, that he must have heard it somewhere, when another voice, a man's, scolded, 'I told you not to run off during a Night Hunt, and you still charged ahead on your own. If a ghost had eaten you, what would your mother and I have done! ...Mianmian? What's wrong? Why do you look like that?' The last few lines should have been directed at the woman: 'Qingyang, look quick—is Mianmian okay? Why does she look like that? Did she see something up there she shouldn't have?'

...She had indeed seen... something she shouldn't have.

Lan Wangji glanced at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian looked back at him, the picture of innocence, and mouthed: 'What a sin.'

He clearly didn't have a shred of remorse for traumatizing a child. Lan Wangji shook his head, and the two of them left the graveyard and went down the slope. The three people below immediately looked up at them, surprised and wary. A man and a woman, husband and wife, were both squatting on the ground, and between them stood a little girl with her hair in two buns, about ten years old. The woman was a young matron of rather delicate, pretty features, with a sword at her waist. The instant she saw Wei Wuxian, she drew her sword, pointed the blade at him, and demanded, 'Who are you!'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Whoever I am, I'm a person, not something else.'

The woman was about to say more, but then she saw Lan Wangji behind Wei Wuxian, and she froze. 'Han Guang Jun?'

Lan Wangji wasn't wearing his forehead band, and for a moment she didn't dare be sure. If it weren't for that unforgettable face, she might have hesitated even longer. She shifted her gaze back to Wei Wuxian, dazed, and said, 'Then, then you're, you're—'

The news that the Yiling Patriarch had returned to the world had already spread far and wide, and whoever was with Lan Wangji now had to be him, so being recognized wasn't strange. Wei Wuxian saw the faint excitement in her face, and her features looked somewhat familiar. He thought, 'Could this lady know me? Do I have some grudge with her? Did I offend her? No, I don't know any girl named Qingyang... ah, Mianmian!'

Wei Wuxian suddenly realized. 'You're Mianmian?'

The man glared. 'Why are you calling my daughter?'

Turned out the little girl who'd been running around and accidentally stumbled onto them was Mianmian's daughter, also named Mianmian. Wei Wuxian found it rather amusing: 'A big Mianmian and a little Mianmian.'

Lan Wangji gave the woman a nod of greeting. 'Miss Luo.'

The woman tucked the slightly disheveled hair by her cheek behind her ear and returned the courtesy. 'Han Guang Jun.' Then she looked at Wei Wuxian. 'Lord Wei.'

Wei Wuxian smiled at her. 'Miss Luo. Oh, now I finally know your name.'

Lu Qingyang gave a slightly shy smile, as if remembering something from years ago and feeling embarrassed about it, and pulled the man up. 'This is my husband.'

The man realized they weren't villains, his expression eased, and after a few pleasantries, Wei Wuxian casually asked, 'May I ask which family or sect this gentleman belongs to?'

The man said frankly, 'Neither.'

Lu Qingyang looked at her husband with a smile. 'My husband isn't a cultivator. He used to be a merchant. But he's willing to go on Night Hunts with me...'

An ordinary person, and a man at that, willing to give up his settled life, unafraid of wandering, unafraid of danger, willing to be on the road with his wife—this was something extraordinarily rare and precious. Wei Wuxian couldn't help but feel a deep respect rise in him.

He said, 'You two came here for a Night Hunt too?'

Lu Qingyang nodded. 'Exactly. I'd heard this hill had wild-grave evil running amok, harassing the people here, making life miserable, so I came to see if there was anything I could help with. Have you two already cleaned it up?'

If Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had already handled it, there was no need for anyone else to step in. But Wei Wuxian said, 'You were tricked by those villagers.'

Lu Qingyang blinked. 'What do you mean?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'They told outsiders it was evil spirits stirring up trouble on their own, but actually they were the ones who dug up the graves and robbed the tombs first, tossing the dead's bones around carelessly. That's why the owners of those graves fought back.'

Lu Qingyang's husband said, doubtful, 'Really? But even if it was retaliation, they didn't have to kill several people, did they?'

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged a glance, and Wei Wuxian said, 'That's fake too. Nobody died. We checked. Only a few of the grave-robbing villagers got scared by the ghosts and were bedridden for a while, and one ran too fast and broke his own leg. Other than that, no casualties. All that stuff about several deaths was made up to scare people.'

Lu Qingyang's husband said, 'Is that so? That's shameless!'

Lu Qingyang sighed, 'Sigh, these people...' She seemed to recall something from the past, shook her head, and said, 'It's like this everywhere.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'I gave them a scare just now. After this, they shouldn't dare come up to rob graves anymore, and the evil spirits naturally won't go bother them. Done.'

Lu Qingyang said, 'But what if they invite other cultivators to come and forcefully Subdue it...'

Wei Wuxian smiled. 'I've already shown my face.'

Lu Qingyang understood. The Yiling Patriarch had already shown his face. Once those cultivators had seen him, they'd spread the word everywhere. Everyone else would assume he'd marked this whole area as his territory. What cultivator out there would have the nerve to come stir up trouble with him?

Lu Qingyang smiled. 'I see. Just now, seeing Mianmian scared like that, I thought she'd run into some evil. If there was any rudeness on our part, please don't take offense.'

Wei Wuxian thought, 'No, no, probably we were the rude ones here.' Outwardly, with a perfectly straight face, he said, 'Not at all, not at all. We scared little Mianmian, so please don't take offense either.'

Lu Qingyang's husband picked up his daughter. Mianmian sat on her father's arm, cheeks puffed out, glaring at Wei Wuxian with a look that was half annoyed and embarrassed, half unable to say what she wanted to say. Wei Wuxian saw her wearing a little pale-pink skirt, her face as cute as jade and snow, her eyes like purple-black crystal grapes. He wanted to pinch her cheeks, but her father was watching him like a hawk, so he only pinched the little braid hanging down by her face, hands behind his back, smiling brightly: 'Mianmian really does look just like Miss Luo when you were little.'

Lan Wangji glanced at him and said nothing. Lu Qingyang laughed, pressing her lips together, and said, 'Lord Wei, aren't you embarrassed saying that? You really remember what I looked like as a child?'

That pressed-lip smile faintly overlapped with the little girl in pink gauze from back then. Wei Wuxian felt not a shred of shame. 'Of course I remember! Not much different from now. By the way, how old is she? I'll give her some Soul-Suppressing Coins.'

Lu Qingyang and her husband hurriedly declined, 'No, no, no need.'

Wei Wuxian grinned. 'Yes, yes, yes. It's not me paying anyway. Ha.'

The couple blinked, not quite catching on yet, when Lan Wangji had already, of his own accord, placed something in Wei Wuxian's hand. Wei Wuxian took those heavy Soul-Suppressing Coins from his palm and insisted on giving them to Mianmian. Seeing she couldn't refuse, Lu Qingyang told her daughter, 'Mianmian, quickly thank Han Guang Jun and Lord Wei.'

Mianmian said, 'Thank you, Han Guang Jun.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Mianmian, I'm the one giving them to you. Why aren't you thanking me?'

Mianmian glared at him, furious. No matter how he teased, she refused to talk to him. She just lowered her head and tugged at a red string around her neck, pulling out a delicate little Scent Pouch, and carefully tucked the Soul-Suppressing Coins inside. Soon they all went down the hill. Wei Wuxian could only say goodbye with some regret, and walked off down a different path with Lan Wangji.

After their figures had disappeared, Lu Qingyang scolded her daughter, 'Mianmian. So rude. That was the benefactor who saved your mother's life back then.'

Her husband was shocked. 'Really?! Mianmian, did you hear that? See how rude you are!'

Mianmian mumbled, 'I... I don't like him.'

Lu Qingyang said, 'You child. If you really hated him, you'd have thrown those coins away already.'

Mianmian's flushed little face buried itself in her father's chest, and she hummed, 'He did bad things!'

Lu Qingyang was caught between laughter and tears, about to speak, when her husband asked, puzzled, 'Qingyang, I've heard you mention this Han Guang Jun before. I remember he's some big important figure from a noble family. Why would he show up in a tiny place like this, hunting such small prey?'

Lu Qingyang patiently explained to her husband, 'This Han Guang Jun is different from other famous gentlemen. He always answers every call. As long as evil spirits are causing trouble and harming people, no matter how high or low the Night Hunt target's rank, no matter how big or small the merit, he goes to help.'

Her husband nodded. 'He really is a true gentleman.' Then, nervous and puzzled, he pressed on, 'And that Lord Wei? You said he saved your life, but I don't think I've heard you mention him much. When did you ever run into life-threatening danger before?'

Lu Qingyang took Mianmian back into her arms. A strange light flickered in her eyes, and she smiled, 'That Lord Wei, well...'

On the other road, Wei Wuxian said to Lan Wangji, 'Who would've thought that little girl from back then would have a little girl of her own now!'

Lan Wangji said, 'Mm.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'But this isn't fair. Clearly what she saw was you doing bad things to me, so why does she dislike me more?'

Before Lan Wangji could answer, Wei Wuxian spun around to face him and started walking backward, talking as he went, 'Oh, I get it now. She must actually like me deep down. Just like a certain someone back then.'

Lan Wangji brushed some non-existent dust off his sleeve and said lightly, 'Please hand me the forehead band, Wei Yuandao.'

Hearing this unfamiliar name, Wei Wuxian froze. Half a beat later he caught on, clicked his tongue, and grinned, 'See? I told you, Lan Er Gongzi. Drinking vinegar, aren't we?'

Lan Wangji lowered his lashes. Wei Wuxian stepped in front of him, one arm around his waist, the other tilting his chin up, and said solemnly, 'Honestly now, how many years have you been nursing this pot of vinegar? You hid it so well I never even smelled the sourness.'

Lan Wangji, used to it by now, cooperated by tilting his face up. Then he felt an unruly hand slip into his chest. He looked down, but Wei Wuxian's hand had already come back out, holding something, and he said in mock surprise, 'What's this?'

It was Lan Wangji's money pouch.

Wei Wuxian's right hand spun the delicate little pouch in the air, while his left pointed at it. 'Han Guang Jun, oh Han Guang Jun, taking without asking is stealing. What did they used to call you? Heir of a noble house? Model disciple of the great sects? What a model—secretly downing strong vinegar on the side, stealing the Scent Pouch that little girl gave me, using it as your own money pouch. No wonder I couldn't find it anywhere after I woke up. If it weren't for little Mianmian's little Scent Pouch on her chest being identical to this one, I wouldn't have remembered at all. You, you, you, tsk tsk. Tell me, how did you slip it off an unconscious me? How long did you feel around?'

A tiny ripple passed over Lan Wangji's face. He reached to snatch it back, but Wei Wuxian tossed the pouch, dodged his hand, and stepped back two paces. 'Can't win the argument so you want to grab it? What are you ashamed of? This is something to be ashamed of too? Well, now I finally know why I'm shameless. We're a perfect match, the two of us. It must be because all my shame is stored over at your place. You're keeping it safe for me.'

The tips of Lan Wangji's ears had gone faintly pink, but his face was still set tight. He moved fast, but Wei Wuxian's feet were faster—he let him see it but never catch it. 'You were the one who gave me the pouch yourself back then. Why won't you give it to me now? Look at you. Not only do you steal things, you steal pleasure too, and you go back on your word. Bad to the bone.'

Lan Wangji lunged, finally caught him, and held him tight in his arms, defending himself, 'We kowtowed three times. We're already... married. That's not stealing pleasure.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Even between husband and wife, you can't always use force on me like this, always making me beg you, and you don't stop even when I beg. Look at you now, all turned into this. The ancestors of the Gusu Lan Sect would be furious...'

At the end of his patience, Lan Wangji fiercely sealed his mouth.