Chapter 117: Extra II: The Incense Burner

In the Treasure Pavilion of the Cloud Recesses, in the room called the Ancient Chamber, Wei Wuxian turned up an old incense burner.

Its body was like a bear's, its nose an elephant's, its eyes a rhinoceros's, its tail an ox's, its feet a tiger's. The belly served as the brazier, and once incense was lit, smoke breathed out from its mouth.

In the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian turned it over in his hands a while and said, 'This thing looks rather fun. No killing intent, no malice in it — surely it's nothing meant to harm. Lan Zhan, do you know what it's for?'

Lan Wangji shook his head; Wei Wuxian sniffed at the fragrance and felt nothing amiss either, and since neither could make out the least clue from it, they put the burner away, meaning to look into it some other day.

Who could have known that, not long after the two lay down, a heavy weariness came over them and they sank into deep sleep. After who knows how long, Wei Wuxian woke to find that he and Lan Wangji were not in the Jingshi of the Cloud Recesses at all, but in the midst of some wild mountain forest.

Wei Wuxian climbed up from the ground: 'What is this place?'

Lan Wangji said, 'Not a place of the living world.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Not the living world? Surely not.' He shook out his sleeves, the feeling of them utterly clear and distinct: 'If this isn't real, then what is it?'

Lan Wangji did not answer; he walked silently to the edge of a stream and gestured for him to lower his head. Wei Wuxian went over, looked into the water, and froze entire.

What the stream gave back was the face of his former life!

Wei Wuxian's head shot up: 'Is it that incense burner?'

Lan Wangji nodded: 'I fear so.'

Having stared a long while at that long-lost face in the water, Wei Wuxian drew his gaze away and said, 'It's fine. I tested that burner — there's no rancour in it, it's certainly no demonic device. Likely some immortal master of great power made it for cultivation, or to pass the time. Let's walk about first and see how things stand.'

So the two began to wander slowly through this forest, whether illusion or something else they could not say. Before long, a little wooden hut came into view.

At the sight of the hut Wei Wuxian gave a soft 'Hm?', and Lan Wangji said, 'What is it?'

Wei Wuxian looked the Small Hut over carefully: 'This place feels a little familiar to me.'

The hut was an utterly ordinary farmhouse, so for all his doubt he could not be sure he had seen it before. Just at that moment, from inside came the creak and clack of a weaving loom.

The two exchanged a glance; no words were needed, and together they drew near.

But when they reached the doorway and peered in, both were struck still in an instant.

What lay within the hut was far more preposterous than the worst they had imagined. No vicious villain, no monstrous beast or Fierce Corpse — only a single person. A person both of them knew exceedingly well.

Within the hut there sat, of all things, a “Lan Wangji”!

This “Lan Wangji” had the very same handsome face as the one at Wei Wuxian's side, the very same tall and slender frame. A plain blue-and-white cloth robe, simple yet far from coarse, had somehow been worn into the very picture of an otherworldly recluse, pure and immortal in bearing. Beside him a loom seemed driven by some spell, moving of its own accord, weaving cloth with creak upon creak, while the man himself sat to one side, a scroll in hand, reading with rapt attention.

The two had come right up to the door, and not quietly either, yet this “Lan Wangji” seemed wholly unaware, turning a page with slender, pale fingers, his expression serene.

Wei Wuxian looked at the Lan Wangji beside him, then at this “Lan Wangji” within, and the truth dawned on him: 'So that's it — so that's it!'

Lan Wangji's brows lifted faintly — that small motion his way of showing astonishment — and he asked, 'What?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'This, this, this — this is my dream!'

Before the words had died away, a slender black-clad figure came drifting and swaying in from outside, calling out in a long drawl, 'Er-gege, I'm home!'

Watching this radiant “Wei Wuxian” come in — a hoe over his shoulder, a fish-creel in hand, a blade of grass between his teeth, spirits high — Lan Wangji fell ever more silent.

If this was Wei Wuxian's dream, then it stood to reason that the people within it could not see them.

Only now did the weaving “Lan Wangji” raise his head, and at the sight of “Wei Wuxian” the corner of his mouth curved up faintly, then smoothed again, and he rose to greet him and poured him a cup of water.

“Wei Wuxian” spat out the grass in his mouth, sat down at the little wooden table, took up the water and drank, gulping it down in a single draught, then said, 'The sun was far too fierce out there today, near roasted me alive. I've left the work in the field — I'm done with it. We'll see about it some other time.'

“Lan Wangji” said, 'Mn.' Then he took out a snow-white Blindfold Cloth and held it out, but “Wei Wuxian” leaned his face in with a grin, his meaning plain as could be — he wanted it wiped for him. “Lan Wangji” did not mind in the least, and set about wiping it for him with genuine, careful attention. “Wei Wuxian,” enjoying every moment, kept his mouth no less busy: 'I went down to the river to play just now and caught two fish — Lan Zhan, make me fish soup tonight!'

'Mn.'

“Wei Wuxian” went on making his demands, utterly unabashed: 'How do they usually eat crucian carp in Gusu? Lan Zhan, can you make pickled-cabbage fish?'

'I can.'

'Then make that! I love that. Whatever you do, don't make it sweet — I had it sweet once and nearly threw up.'

'Mn.'

'It's getting hotter by the day. The bathwater tonight needn't be scalding, so I only chopped half the firewood.'

'Mn. It's fine.'

'...' Lan Wangji stared at the two trading their household small-talk and said, 'Your dream?'

Wei Wuxian was laughing himself into an injury: 'Pfft — hahahahahaha — ah, yes. For a while there, I don't know why, I kept having this kind of dream. Dreamed we'd gone into seclusion, retired to the wilds, and I'd go out to hunt and farm while you kept house and wove cloth and cooked for me — oh, and you'd keep the accounts and manage the money too, and mend my clothes at night. Every time I'd dream I had you heat the bathwater so we could bathe together come evening, but just when we were about to undress I'd wake. Such a pity, hahahahahaha...'

He felt not the slightest shame at Lan Wangji having seen this kind of dream; on the contrary, he sat there thoroughly pleased with himself. Lan Wangji, seeing him so delighted, looked on with a softened gaze and said, 'That would do too.'

To retire into the mountains and forests, to be done forever with the clamour — it truly would do.

Wei Wuxian's dream was full of nothing but trifling little chores — cooking, eating, feeding chickens, chopping wood — and sure enough, the very moment the bathwater was heated, the dream broke off short. The two walked a few steps and passed from that farmstead to an elegant, secluded pavilion, before which stood a spreading magnolia tree, breathing out into the night air a fragrance that pierced the heart.

The dream's setting had shifted, and this was a place neither of them could possibly fail to know. It was none other than the Library Pavilion of the Cloud Recesses in Gusu.

From a wooden window on the second floor a lamp still glimmered, and faint voices drifted out. Wei Wuxian looked up: 'Shall we go in and have a look?'

For some reason, Lan Wangji, against his nature, halted and would not go forward. He stared at that wooden window, lost in thought, as though hesitant. Wei Wuxian found it strange — he could think of no reason Lan Wangji would be unwilling to go in — and asked, 'What's wrong?'

Lan Wangji gave a faint shake of his head, brooded a moment, and was just about to speak when a burst of unbridled laughter erupted from inside the Library Pavilion.

At the sound, Wei Wuxian's eyes lit up; he darted into the Library Pavilion and bounded up the stairs in three strides.

He had gone in, so naturally Lan Wangji would not linger outside alone, and went in with him. Together they stepped into that lamplit reading room, and sure enough found something most amusing.

On a pale-coloured mat, beside the desk of punishment-copying, a Wei Ying of fifteen or sixteen was slapping the table and howling with laughter: 'Hahahahahahahahaha!'

On the floor lay a yellow-paged illustrated album, flung down; a Lan Zhan of the same fifteen or sixteen years had recoiled into the corner of the Library Pavilion as though from a snake or scorpion, and was crying out in a fury: 'Wei Ying——!'

The young Wei Ying laughed so hard he nearly rolled under the desk, and could barely raise a hand: 'Here! I'm here!'

And on this side, Wei Wuxian too was about ready to topple over laughing, tugging at the Lan Wangji beside him: 'This dream's a good one! I can't take it, Lan Zhan — look at you, just look at the you of those days, that face, hahahahaha...'

For some reason, Lan Wangji's expression grew only the more peculiar. Wei Wuxian pulled him down to sit on a nearby mat, propped his chin in his hand, and watched with a smile as their younger selves bickered and brawled in a fit of pique. Over there, the young Lan Zhan had already drawn Bichen; Wei Ying hurriedly snatched up Suibian, its edge gleaming three inches out of the sheath, and warned, 'Decorum! Second Young Master Lan! Mind your decorum! I've brought a sword today too — if we go at it, do you still want this Library Pavilion of yours left standing or not!'

Lan Zhan said in a rage, 'Wei Ying! You — what kind of person are you!'

Wei Ying cocked a brow: 'What else would I be. A man!'

'...' Lan Zhan denounced him bitterly: 'Have you no shame!'

Wei Ying said, 'Is this really something to be ashamed over? Don't tell me you've never once looked at this sort of thing. I don't believe it.'

Lan Zhan held it in for a good while, his face frost-cold, then took up his sword and advanced. Wei Ying startled: 'What — you'd really fight!' and met the blade in return, and just like that the two of them truly fell to crossing swords inside the Library Pavilion. Watching this, Wei Wuxian gave a soft 'Hm?', turned to look at Lan Wangji, and said in wonder, 'Is that how it went here? As I recall, we didn't actually come to blows back then, did we?'

Lan Wangji said nothing; when Wei Wuxian looked at him, he slid his gaze away from Wei Wuxian's without a trace. Wei Wuxian found him stranger and stranger tonight, and was just about to ask when he heard the little Wei Ying over there, mid-fight, tossing out a jibe: 'Good, good, good — able to draw and to hold, taut and slack by turns, fine swordsmanship! But, Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan, look at you — flushed so red. Is that from sparring with me, or from looking at that fine thing just now?'

The little Lan Zhan was not flushed in the least; he swept his sword across: 'Talking nonsense!'

Wei Ying arched his waist back into an exceedingly supple back-bend, slipped past the blade, then straightened again and, quick as anything, gave a pinch to Lan Zhan's smooth, fair cheek: 'How am I talking nonsense — go on, touch your own face, it's burning hot, ha!'

Lan Zhan's face went red, then white; he made to slap the claw away, but Wei Ying drew his hand back first, so the blow met empty air and nearly landed on himself. Turning, perfectly at ease, Wei Ying said idly, 'Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan, it's not that I mean to lecture you, but look at the others your age — which of them flies into such a great blush at the drop of a hat. If a little stir like this is too much for you, then you really are too green.'

This scene had neither truly happened nor been any dream of his — which left only one possibility: it was a dream of Lan Wangji's. Wei Wuxian watched with relish: 'Lan Zhan, you really do understand me. That is exactly the sort of thing I'd say.'

He failed to notice, however, that at this very moment Lan Wangji seemed almost unable to sit still.

The little Wei Ying went on: 'Copying texts is dreadfully dull — why don't I teach you a bit of this while I copy? Call it repaying your kindness in keeping watch over me...'

Having borne his nonsense so long, Lan Zhan could bear it no more at last; Bichen flew out in a stroke, the two blades clashed and were knocked clean out the window together. Seeing Suibian fly from his grip, Wei Ying startled a little: 'Hey, my sword!'

With that cry he made to leap out the window after it, but Lan Zhan lunged at him from behind and bore him down to the floor. Wei Ying's head knocked against the ground; he scrambled and struggled, and after a few exchanges the two were tangled together in a wild snarl. Wei Ying kicked desperately, elbows flying every which way, yet for all that he could not break free of the lock of Lan Zhan's limbs, as though caught beneath an unbreakable iron net: 'Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, what are you doing! I was joking, only joking! Why are you taking it so seriously!'

Lan Zhan seized both his wrists in one hand and pressed them behind his back, saying in a low voice, 'You — just now — said you'd teach me what.'

His tone sounded cold enough, yet in his gaze there seemed a volcano on the verge of eruption.

The two had been evenly matched, but Wei Ying, careless for a moment, had let himself be caught at a vital point and pinned hard to the floor, and could only play the fool: 'Did I? Did I say something just now?'

Lan Zhan said, 'You didn't?'

Wei Ying said, all righteous conviction, 'I didn't!'

He went on, 'Lan Zhan, don't be such a stickler — don't take every word I say to heart. You'd believe even my nonsense? What's there worth getting angry over. I won't say it anymore, all right? Now let me go — I haven't finished copying today, I'm done playing, done playing.'

At this Lan Zhan's face eased a little, and his arms seemed to slacken somewhat. Who'd have thought — the instant Wei Ying slipped a wrist free, his brows curved, his eyes darted, and he sent a palm-strike straight up. Lan Zhan had long been on guard; the moment Wei Ying moved, he caught him with sharp eye and quick hand and pinned him down anew. This time he came down harder, twisting Wei Ying's wrist into a still sharper arc, till he yelped and yelped: 'I told you it was a joke! Lan Zhan! Don't be so unable to take a little teasing!'

In Lan Zhan's gaze flames seemed faintly to leap; without another word he plucked the ribbon from his brow, wound it round three times, and bound the wrists of the Wei Ying beneath him fast, tying it off in a dead knot.

Never in his wildest imaginings expecting this turn, Wei Wuxian, off to the side, was already staring agog!

It was a good while before he turned to look at the Lan Wangji beside him, and at this glance he discovered that, though Lan Wangji's face was still snow-white without the faintest flush, his earlobes had already gone pink. Wei Wuxian leaned in with no good intent: 'Lan Zhan... this dream of yours seems a little — not quite proper, doesn't it?'

'...'

Lan Wangji rose abruptly: 'Stop watching!'

Wei Wuxian caught hold of him at once: 'Don't go! I still want to see what happens next in your dream — we haven't even reached the good part yet!'

By the desk in the Library Pavilion, the bound Wei Ying wailed like a tormented ghost for a stretch, and once he'd quieted, tried to reason with him: 'Lan Zhan, a gentleman uses his words, not his hands — this is small-minded of you. Think about it, what did I even say just now?'

Lan Zhan let out a soundless breath and said coldly, 'What you said — work it out yourself.'

Wei Ying argued speciously, 'All I said was that you're green, that you don't understand certain things. Isn't that just the truth? There are grown-up matters you really don't understand. To treat me this way for having the truth laid bare — if that isn't small-minded, what is it?'

Lan Zhan said indifferently, 'Who says I don't understand.'

Wei Ying arched one brow and laughed: 'Oh — is that so? Don't put on a brave front. It'd be a wonder if you understood, hahahahaha — ah!'

He gave a sudden cry, because Lan Zhan had abruptly given him a vicious pinch.

With a handsome face still touched by boyish youth, gone cold now, Lan Zhan repeated, 'Who says I don't understand.'

That pinch was a killer. Wei Wuxian laughed till he nearly fell over, and once he'd barely struggled up, he hung off Lan Wangji and, all but biting at his earlobe, said, 'Yes, who says you don't understand? What the mind dwells on by day, it dreams of by night — Lan Zhan, tell me true, didn't you badly want to do just this to the me of those days? I never would have guessed you were this sort of Hanguang-Jun...'

Lan Wangji's face remained expressionless, yet that touch of pink had quietly crept up his fair neck. The fingers resting on his knee, too, curled imperceptibly.

Over there, the little Wei Ying, having been pinched so viciously, lay slumped on the floor and drew a sharp breath: 'Lan Zhan, what are you playing at! Have you lost your mind!'

Lan Zhan had pinned Wei Ying's whole body fast, a posture truly unsettling; sensing the lay of things, Wei Ying hastily changed his tune: '...No, no, no! No one said you don't understand! You, you, you — let go first, we can talk this out properly!'

His hands flailed wildly, but the material of the Gusu Lan Clan's forehead ribbon was of the finest quality; struggle as he might, he could not loose it or wrench free. A couple more flails, and spotting a book fallen nearby, he snatched it up and flung it at Lan Zhan, hoping to knock him to his senses with the words of the sages: 'Snap out of it!'

The book struck Lan Zhan in the chest first, then dropped onto Wei Ying's leg, riffling open through several pages, and when Lan Zhan looked down, his gaze stopped moving.

As though by some unseen hand, the page had come to rest precisely upon a small illustration.

【...】

Wei Wuxian remembered that the album he'd shown Lan Wangji that time, to tease him, had nothing whatever to do with the love of men, and certainly held no such page as this; he could not help marvelling again at how richly Lan Wangji had embellished the details in his dream — truly admirable.

Lan Zhan looked down, staring at that page without blinking; Wei Ying saw the picture too and felt a flash of awkwardness: '...uh...' Lamenting inwardly how wretched it all was, he still reckoned hands beat words, and strained to pull one foot free for a kick. But Lan Zhan freed a hand and gripped him behind the knee. Wei Ying looked down, and his heart seemed to go cold along with it: 'Lan Zhan, what are you doing?!'

Wei Wuxian, watching from the side, was thrilled to the soul and beside himself with excitement, and could not help thinking: 'What a question. What else would he be doing!'