Chapter 125: 外六篇：莲蓬

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Yunmeng Lotus Enclosure.

Outside the Trial Sword Hall, the summer cicadas screamed; inside, bodies sprawled everywhere in a sight too pitiful to behold.

A dozen-odd boys, stripped to the waist, were plastered one by one to the wooden floorboards of the Trial Sword Hall, rolling over now and then like a dozen pancakes sizzling on a griddle, letting out dying groans.

“So hot…”

“I'm dead…”

Wei Wuxian squinted, half-dazed, thinking, “If only it were as cool as the Cloud-Deep Unknown Place.”

The patch of floor under him had soaked up his body heat again, so he rolled over. Just then Jiang Cheng rolled over too, the two of them grazing past each other, an arm flopping onto a leg. Wei Wuxian said at once, “Jiang Cheng, get your arm off me, you're like a lump of charcoal.”

Jiang Cheng said, “Get your leg off me.”

Wei Wuxian said, “An arm's lighter than a leg. It's more work for me to move a leg, so you'd better move your arm.”

Jiang Cheng exploded. “Wei Wuxian, I'm warning you, don't push it. Shut up, stop talking—you're making it hotter the more you go on!”

Sixth Shidi said, “Can you two quit fighting already? Just listening to you bicker makes me feel hotter, the sweat's pouring faster.”

Over there a palm was already swinging, a foot kicking out: “Beat it!” “You beat it!” “No no no, after you!” “Don't be shy, you first!”

The shidi all griped in chorus: “If you're gonna fight, take it outside!” “Both of you scram together, please, I'm begging you!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Hear that? Everyone wants you out. You… let go of my leg, you'll snap it off, big bro!”

The veins bulged on Jiang Cheng's forehead. “They clearly meant you should go out… you let go of my arm first!”

Right then, a swish of a trailing skirt sounded from the wooden corridor outside, and the two sprang apart like lightning. A moment later the bamboo blind lifted and Jiang Anli poked her head in, peering around. “Oh, so this is where you've all been hiding.”

Everyone called out at once: “Shijie!” “Shijie.” A few of the bashful ones couldn't help crossing their arms over their chests and shrinking off into a corner.

Jiang Anli said, “How come you're all slacking off on sword practice today?”

Wei Wuxian whined, “The sun's so vicious, the Training Ground's roasting hot—go practice swords out there and you lose a layer of skin. Shijie, don't tell anyone.”

Jiang Anli looked him and Jiang Cheng over carefully. “You two were fighting again, weren't you?”

Wei Wuxian said, “We were not!”

Jiang Anli slipped inside too, carrying a tray. “Then whose footprint is that on A-Cheng's chest?”

Hearing he'd left evidence behind, Wei Wuxian hurried to look—sure enough, there it was. But nobody cared anymore whether the two of them had been fighting, because what Jiang Anli was carrying was a big tray of sliced watermelon. The pack of boys swarmed forward and split it up in two or three moves, then sat on the floor gnawing the melon across from one another. Before long the rinds were piled into a little half-mountain in the tray.

Whatever Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng did, they had to turn it into a contest, and eating watermelon was no exception—snatching slices, pulling dirty tricks, fighting so fiercely that the others scrambled to clear a patch of open ground for them. Wei Wuxian was eating hard at first, then mid-bite he suddenly went “pfft” and laughed.

Jiang Cheng said warily, “What are you scheming now.”

Wei Wuxian grabbed another piece. “Nothing! Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not scheming anything, I just thought of someone.”

Jiang Cheng said, “Who?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Lan Zhan.”

Jiang Cheng said, “What are you thinking of him for, out of nowhere—missing the flavor of copying lines as punishment?”

Wei Wuxian spat out a seed. “Thinking about him's fun, that's all. You've no idea, he's hilarious. I told him, the food at your place is too awful, I'd rather eat stir-fried watermelon rind than your family's cooking—you should come visit us at the Lotus Pavilion when you've got time…”

Before he'd finished, Jiang Cheng smacked his melon aside. “Are you insane, inviting him to the Lotus Pavilion—asking for misery?”

Wei Wuxian said, “What's the rush, you nearly sent my melon flying! I'm just talking. Of course he won't come—when have you ever heard of him going off to play on his own?”

Jiang Cheng said righteously, “Let's get this straight first—I refuse to have him here, so don't go inviting people willy-nilly.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Didn't realize you hated him this much?”

Jiang Cheng said, “I've got nothing against Lan Wangji. But if he really did come, and my mother started comparing me to someone else's kid, you'd never hear the end of it either.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Relax, even if he comes there's nothing to fear. If he really shows up, just tell Uncle Jiang to have him bunk with me, and I guarantee I'll drive him crazy in under a month.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “You think you'd last a month sleeping next to him? I doubt you'd make it seven days before he stabs you dead.”

Wei Wuxian said dismissively, “Like I'm scared of him. If it really came to a fight, he might not even be my match.”

Everyone chimed in egging him on, and Jiang Cheng jeered at his nerve—but inside he knew Wei Wuxian wasn't lying or just bragging. Jiang Anli sat down between the two of them. “Who are you two talking about? A friend you made in Gusu?”

Wei Wuxian said happily, “Yeah!”

Jiang Cheng said, “You've got some nerve calling yourself his ‘friend.' Go ask Lan Wangji whether he'll even claim you.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Beat it. If he won't claim me I'll cling to him till he can't shake me, and we'll see.” He turned to Jiang Anli. “Shijie, do you know Lan Wangji?”

Jiang Anli said, “I do—that's the young Second Young Master Lan everyone says is so handsome and so talented, isn't it? Is he really that handsome?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Very handsome!”

Jiang Anli said, “Compared to you?”

Wei Wuxian thought it over. “Maybe just a tiny bit more handsome than me.”

He held up two fingers with a teensy gap between them. Jiang Anli gathered up the tray and smiled. “Then he must be really handsome. Making a new friend is a good thing—from now on, when you've nothing to do, you can visit back and forth.”

At that, Jiang Cheng sputtered out his melon, and Wei Wuxian waved his hands fast. “Forget it, forget it. That place of theirs—bad food and a million rules. I'm not going.”

Jiang Anli said, “Then you can bring him here. This is a perfect chance—why not invite your friend to come stay at the Lotus Pavilion for a while?”

Jiang Cheng said, “A-Jie, don't listen to his nonsense. He's nothing but trouble over in Gusu—why would Lan Wangji ever come back with him.”

Wei Wuxian said, “What rubbish! He would.”

Jiang Cheng said, “Wake up. Lan Wangji told you to beat it, remember? You hear me? Remember that?”

Wei Wuxian said, “What do you know! On the surface he tells me to beat it, sure, but I know deep down he really wants to come play with me in Yunmeng. Wants it like crazy.”

Jiang Cheng said, “There's one question I ask myself every single day—where on earth do you get all this confidence?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Stop asking. Same question for this many years and still no answer—I'd have given up ages ago.”

Jiang Cheng shook his head and was about to chuck his melon down when he suddenly heard a furious burst of running footsteps, and a chilling woman's voice carried over from a distance: “I was wondering where this whole bunch had run off to hide—I knew it…”

The boys' faces all changed, and they scrambled out through the blind—only to run smack into Madam Yu rounding the far end of the corridor, purple robes fluttering yet bristling with menace, her crimson eyes blazing with killing intent, genuinely terrifying. The instant she saw this pack of boys all stripped bare-chested and barefoot, an unseemly, unbearable sight, Madam Yu's face contorted for a good long while, her two thin brows arching up as if about to take flight.

Everyone's heart sank—“We're done for!”—and scattered in panic, scrambling to flee. At that, Madam Yu finally snapped to and roared, “Jiang Cheng! Put your clothes on! Stark naked like a wild savage—what kind of ghastly sight is that! Where am I supposed to hide my face if people see this?!”

Jiang Cheng's robe was tucked at his waist, and hearing his mother scold, he hurried to throw it on any which way. Madam Yu cursed on: “And the rest of you! Didn't you see A-Li was right here? A pack of wretched brats stripping down to this sorry state in front of a young lady—who taught you that!”

Of course, no thought was needed to know who'd led the charge. So Madam Yu's next line was, as usual: “Wei Ying! I think you're asking to die!”

Wei Wuxian shouted, “Sorry! I didn't know Shijie would come! I'll go find my clothes right now!”

Madam Yu grew angrier still. “You still dare run—get back here and kneel!” And with that, a whip lashed out. Wei Wuxian felt a searing sting across his back, yelped “Ow!” and nearly hit the ground rolling. Just then a voice murmured wistfully at Madam Yu's ear: “A-Niang, would you like some watermelon…”

Madam Yu was startled by Jiang Anli, who'd popped up out of nowhere, and in that one instant of delay the whole gang of little thieves vanished without a trace. Furious, she rounded on Jiang Anli and pinched her cheek. “Eat, eat, eat, all you know is eating!”

Pinched by her mother till a few tears actually welled up, Jiang Anli mumbled, “A-Niang, A-Xian and the others were hiding here to beat the heat—I came looking for them myself, don't blame them… would you… would you like some watermelon… I don't know who sent it, but it's very sweet. Watermelon in summer cools the heat and clears the fire, sweet and juicy—I'll slice some for you…”

The more Madam Yu thought, the angrier she got—and yet, hot and thirsty as she was, she actually was talked into wanting some, which only… made her angrier still.

Meanwhile the several of them barely made it out of the Lotus Pavilion, dashed to the Wharf, and leapt aboard a little boat. No one came chasing for a good while, so Wei Wuxian finally relaxed. He rowed hard a couple of strokes, felt his back still throbbing, tossed the oar to someone else, sat down, and felt the searing patch of flesh. “A grievance for the ages—let's reason this out: clearly nobody was wearing clothes, so why does she only scold me, and only beat me?”

Jiang Cheng said, “Must be because you're the most eye-searing one with no clothes on.”

Wei Wuxian shot him a look, then suddenly sprang up and dove into the water. The others answered the call too, plunging in one after another, until in a heartbeat only Jiang Cheng was left on the boat.

Sensing something subtly off about the situation, Jiang Cheng said, “What the hell are you up to?!”

Wei Wuxian glided to the side of the boat and slammed it with a palm. The whole boat flipped over, bobbing heavily in the water belly-up. Wei Wuxian roared with laughter, hopped onto the boat's bottom, sat cross-legged, and called toward the side where Jiang Cheng had gone under: “Eyes still searing, Jiang Cheng? Answer me—hey! Hey!”

He called twice with no reply, just a string of bubbles glug-glugging up. Wei Wuxian wiped his face, puzzled. “How's he still not up after all this time?”

Sixth Shidi swam over too, alarmed. “He didn't drown, did he!”

Wei Wuxian said, “No way!” He was just about to go pull Jiang Cheng up when a great shout came from behind him—he yelped, got shoved from behind into the water, and the boat flipped over dripping again. It turned out that after being flipped in, Jiang Cheng had dived down and circled around underwater to come up behind Wei Wuxian.

Each had landed one sneak attack, and now they started circling warily around the boat in the water, while the others splashed about, spreading out across the lake to watch the show. Wei Wuxian taunted across the boat, “Grabbing a weapon, big deal—if you've got the guts, drop the oar and we'll go bare-handed.”

Jiang Cheng grinned savagely. “Think I'm stupid? The moment I let go, you'll snatch it!” The oar whirled in his hands like wind, driving Wei Wuxian to keep retreating, and the shidi howled their approval. Beset on every side, Wei Wuxian still found a spare moment to protest, “Since when am I that shameless!”

Jeers erupted all around: “Da-Shixiong, you've got the face to say that!”

Next, everyone fell into a chaotic water battle—Greatly Merciful Pestle, Hundred-Venom Snake-Scorpion Weed, Life-Stealing Water Jet—Wei Wuxian kicked Jiang Cheng, barely managed to clamber onto the boat, spat out a mouthful of lake water, raised his hand. “Stop, stop, truce!”

The others, all crowned with heads of slick green waterweed and right in the thick of it, hurriedly said, “Why stop, fight! Fight! Begging for mercy the moment you're losing ground?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Who said I'm begging for mercy—we'll pick it up later. I'm too hungry to fight, let me get something to eat first.”

Sixth Shidi said, “So are we heading back? We could still eat a few watermelons before dinner.”

Jiang Cheng said, “Go back now and there's nothing on the menu but the whip.”

But Wei Wuxian already had a plan, and he announced, “We're not going back. We're going to pick lotus pods!”

Jiang Cheng sneered, “‘Steal,' you mean.”

Wei Wuxian said, “It's not like we never pay up afterward!”

The Yunmeng Jiang Clan often looked after the families around these parts, ridding the waters of evil without taking a fee, so within a few dozen li, never mind a few lotus pods—the locals would gladly have set aside a whole stretch of lake to grow them just for the clan to eat. Every time the clan's boys went out and ate someone's melons, caught someone's chickens, or drugged someone's dog unconscious, Jiang Fengmian would afterward send people to make good on it all, one by one. As for why they were so dead set on stealing the stuff to eat—it wasn't some hooligan rich-brat streak; it was just boys with a strong taste for fun, craving that little thrill of getting laughed at, scolded, and chased around.

Everyone boarded the boat and rowed for a good while, until they reached a stretch of Lotus Lake.

It was a vast Lotus Lake, lush and green. The jade leaves layered upon layer, the small ones like plates, the big ones like umbrellas. The outer ones were lower and sparser, lying flat on the water's surface; the inner ones were taller and more crowded, enough to hide a boat with people aboard—but if you saw a cluster of lotus leaves jostling shoulder to shoulder and rustling somewhere, you knew someone was hiding inside up to no good.

The Lotus Pavilion's little boat slid in beneath this green world, big plump green lotus pods hanging all around. With one person poling, the rest started getting handsy with them. The big-headed, big-brained lotus pods grew on long slender stems, the smooth green shafts covered in little prickles that didn't sting; one snap and they broke off crisply. They each broke them off with a long stretch of stem attached, so that once home they could find a vase and keep them in water—word was they'd stay fresh and tender a few more days that way. Wei Wuxian had only heard this, with no idea if it was true; either way, that's what he swore up and down to everyone else.

He broke off a few stems, peeled one offhand—plump grains—and tossed them into his mouth, tender and juicy, humming some made-up nonsense as he ate, something like “I'll treat you to lotus pods, what'll you treat me to.” Jiang Cheng overheard. “Treat who?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Ha, not you, anyway!” He was just about to grab a lotus pod to bean him in the face when he suddenly went “Shhh” and said, “We're done for, the old man's here today!”

The old man was the old farmer who grew lotus pods in these waters. Exactly how old, Wei Wuxian didn't know either—as far as he was concerned, Jiang Fengmian was an uncle, and anyone older than Jiang Fengmian could all be called old man. Ever since Wei Wuxian could remember, the old man had been at this Lotus Pond, and in summer when they came to steal lotus pods, if caught they'd get beaten by him. Wei Wuxian often suspected the old man was a lotus-pod spirit reborn, because he knew exactly how many pods had gone missing from his own lake—however many were missing was however many whacks. On a Lotus Lake, a bamboo pole worked better than an oar for boating. Thwack, thwack, thwack! It hurt like hell across your body.

The boys had all taken a few pole-whacks before too, and they hissed at once, “Run, run!” scrambling to grab the oars and flee in disarray. With every hand pitching in they paddled out of the Lotus Pond, glanced back with guilty consciences—and saw the old man's boat had already pierced through the dense lotus leaves and was gliding across the open water. Wei Wuxian cocked his head, watched a moment, and suddenly said, “Strange!”

Jiang Cheng stood up too. “Why's that boat moving so fast?”

Everyone looked—the old man had his back to them and was counting the lotus pods on his boat one by one, the bamboo pole set aside, unmoving, yet the boat ran steady and fast, even faster than Wei Wuxian and the others'.

Everyone went on guard. Wei Wuxian urged, “Row over, row over.”

As the two boats drew close, everyone saw it clearly: alongside the old man's boat, a faint, barely-there white shape was drifting beneath the surface of the water!

Wei Wuxian glanced back, pressed his forefinger to his lips, signaling everyone to be careful not to startle the old man or the water ghost below. Jiang Cheng nodded and rowed the boat, drawing out only soundless ripples, the disturbance nearly nil. When the two boats were about three zhang apart, a greenish-white hand rose dripping from beneath the boat, secretly snatched a pod from the old man's boatload of lotus pods, and slipped soundlessly back underwater.

A moment later, two lotus-seed husks floated up to the surface.

The pack of boys was stunned: “Unbelievable, this water ghost steals lotus pods too!”

The old man finally noticed someone had come up behind him; clutching a big lotus pod in one hand, he grabbed the bamboo pole with the other and turned around. The motion startled the water ghost—zip, the white shape was gone. Everyone hurried to say, “Where do you think you're going!”

Wei Wuxian splashed into the water, dove to the bottom, and in no time surfaced dragging something. “Got it!”

There he was, hauling up a little water ghost by the hand—greenish-white skin, looking like a child of twelve or thirteen, utterly terrified, nearly curling into a ball under the gaze of all the boys.

Just then the old man swung his pole and cursed, “Here to make trouble again!”

Wei Wuxian had just taken a whipping on his back, and now ate a pole on top of it; he yelped “Owww” and nearly lost his grip. Jiang Cheng said angrily, “Talk it out properly, what are you swinging at people for—treating good intentions like garbage!”

Wei Wuxian hurried to say, “It's fine, it's fine. Old… old uncle, look closely, we're not ghosts—this one's the ghost.”

The old man said, “Obviously. I'm just old, I'm not blind. Now let it go!”

Wei Wuxian was taken aback, but the little water ghost he'd caught kept bowing with cupped hands, its dark eyes wet, looking pitiful, still clutching that big lotus pod it had just stolen, unwilling to let go. The pod was broken open—looked like it hadn't had the chance to eat more than a few seeds before Wei Wuxian hauled it up.

Jiang Cheng thought this old man was utterly unreasonable, and said to Wei Wuxian, “Don't let it go, let's take this water ghost back with us.”

At that, the old man raised his bamboo pole again, and Wei Wuxian quickly said, “Don't hit me, don't hit me—I'll just put it down.”

Jiang Cheng said, “Don't let it go—what if this water ghost kills someone to take its place as a substitute!”

Wei Wuxian said, “This water ghost's got no smell of blood on it, it's young and can't swim out of these waters, and nobody else has been said to drown in this area lately, so it shouldn't have harmed anyone.”

Jiang Cheng said, “Even if it hasn't harmed anyone before, that doesn't mean it won't from now on…”

Before he'd finished, the bamboo pole came whistling over. Jiang Cheng took a hit and exploded, “Old man, can't you tell good from bad?! You know it's a ghost—aren't you afraid of it harming you!”

The old man was perfectly righteous too: “A man with one foot in the coffin—what's there to fear from a ghost.”

Figuring it couldn't run far anyway, Wei Wuxian said, “Quit hitting, quit hitting, I'm letting go!”

He really did let go, and the water ghost shot with a splash to behind the old man's boat, seeming not to dare come out.

Wei Wuxian climbed dripping onto the boat. The old man picked a lotus pod off his boat and tossed it into the water; the ghost ignored it. The old man picked a bigger one and threw it in too. The pod bobbed up and down on the surface a few times—then suddenly half a white head broke the water, like a great white fish, and dragged the two green pods under. After a while, a bit of white surfaced again; the ghost let its shoulders and hands show, huddled behind the boat, head down, munching away with a crunch-crunch.

Watching it eat with such relish, everyone couldn't help being puzzled.

Seeing the old man toss yet another pod into the water, Wei Wuxian rubbed his chin, feeling a little put out. “Old uncle, why is it that when it steals your lotus pods, you let it steal—and even give them to it to eat. When we steal yours, you beat us?”

The old man said, “It pushes my boat for me—what's a few lotus pods to feed it? You little brats? How many did you steal today?”

Everyone smiled sheepishly. Out of the corner of his eye Wei Wuxian saw the boat's belly was piled with no fewer than a few dozen, and thought, This is bad, and quickly said, “Move it!”

The several of them grabbed the oars at once, and the old man came charging head-on, brandishing his bamboo pole, his boat moving like the wind. Their scalps prickled, sure the pole was about to land any second, and they flung all four limbs into rowing like mad. The two boats chased twice around the great stretch of Lotus Lake, the old man drawing closer and closer, and Wei Wuxian had already eaten several pole-whacks—and noticed the pole came only for him. He clutched his head, yelling, “It's not fair! Why only hit me! Why only me again!”

The shidi said, “Shixiong, hold out, it's all on you!”

Jiang Cheng said too, “Yeah, you hold out good.”

Wei Wuxian was furious. “Pah! I can't hold out!” He grabbed a lotus pod off the boat and hurled it. “Catch!”

It was a very big lotus pod; it dropped into the water with a “plop,” splashing up a spray. The old man's boat did indeed lurch to a halt, and the water ghost swam over delightedly to fish out the pod and eat it.

Seizing the chance, the Lotus Pavilion's boat finally got a window and escaped.

On the way back, one of the shidi said, “Da-Shixiong, can ghosts taste flavors?”

Wei Wuxian said, “Usually they can't, I'd say. But looking at this little ghost, it's probably… probably… ah… ah-choo!”

The sun had set, the wind came up, and with each gust a cool edge rose, faintly chilly. Wei Wuxian sneezed, rubbed his face, and went on: “Probably wanted to eat lotus pods while it was alive and couldn't, and drowned in the lake when it snuck off to pick them. So… ah… ah…”

Jiang Cheng said, “So eating lotus pods settles its lingering obsession, gives it a sense of satisfaction.”

Wei Wuxian said, “Mm, right.”

He felt his back, fresh wounds layered over old ones, and still couldn't help asking the question on his mind: “This really is a grievance for the ages—why is it that every time something happens, it's always only me who gets beaten?”

One shidi said, “You're the most handsome.”

Another said, “Your cultivation's the highest.”

Yet another said, “You look the best with no clothes on.”

Everyone nodded along, and Wei Wuxian said, “Thanks for all the praise, everyone, I'm getting goosebumps just hearing it.”

A shidi said, “You're welcome, Da-Shixiong. You're always the one out front shielding us—you deserve more!”

Wei Wuxian said in surprise, “Oh? There's more? Let's hear it.”

Jiang Cheng couldn't take it anymore. “Everyone shut up! Talk sense or I'll stab through the bottom of the boat and we'll all die together and be done with it.”

Just then, passing a stretch of water, farmland lay on both banks. A few small, dainty-figured farm girls were working in the fields, and seeing their little boat pass, they ran toward the water's edge and called out from afar, “Heyy—!”

Everyone called “Hey” back, and with every hand pitching in they poked Wei Wuxian: “Shixiong, they're calling you! They're calling for you!”

Wei Wuxian fixed his eyes on them—sure enough, it was the ones he'd led the way in dealing with—and in an instant the storm clouds in his heart cleared to bright open sky. He stood up and waved too, laughing. “What is it!”

The little boat went with the current, the farm girls following along the bank, calling as they went, “Did you go stealing lotus pods again!”

“Tell us how many whacks you got!”

“Or did you go drug somebody's dog?”

Hearing a few lines of this, Jiang Cheng could've kicked him off the boat, and lamented bitterly, “You and your infamy—you really are a disgrace to our clan.”

Wei Wuxian argued, “They said ‘you' as in plural—we're all in this together, aren't we? If it's a disgrace, it's a disgrace for all of us.”

While the two of them bickered, one of the farm girls called out again, “Was it good?”

Wei Wuxian found a spare moment in the middle of it all. “What?”

The farm girl said, “The watermelon we sent—was it good?”

Wei Wuxian had a sudden realization. “So the watermelon was from you! It was delicious! Why not come in and sit a while—we'll treat you to tea!”

The farm girl smiled charmingly. “You weren't there when we dropped it off, so we just left it and went—didn't dare sit. Glad it was good!”

Wei Wuxian said, “Thanks!” He fished a few big lotus pods out of the boat's belly. “Here, lotus pods for you—come watch me practice swords next time!”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Like your sword practice is worth watching?”

Wei Wuxian kept flinging lotus pods toward the bank, tossing them far, yet they landed light and neat in waiting hands. He grabbed a few and shoved them against Jiang Cheng's chest, jostling him. “What are you standing around for? Get moving.”

Jiang Cheng, shoved twice, had no choice but to take them. “Get moving how?”

Wei Wuxian said, “You ate the watermelon too, so you've got to give them something back. Come on, come on, don't be shy—start tossing, toss them over.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Don't make me laugh. What's there to be shy about?” That's what he said, but while a whole boat of juniors was already tossing away and having a grand time, he still hadn't lifted a finger. Wei Wuxian added, “So throw, then. Throw one this time, and next time you can ask if the pods were good—gives you an excuse to talk to them again!”

The juniors all had a sudden realization. “So that's how it's done! Lesson learned—shixiong really is a seasoned hand!”

“You can tell he does this kind of thing all the time!”

“No, no, hahahaha…”

Jiang Cheng had been about to throw one, but the moment he heard that he snapped out of it, feeling thoroughly mortified. He peeled open a pod and started eating it himself.

The boat moved through the water, the girls trotting along the bank to keep up, catching the green lotus pods the boys lobbed over, running and laughing the whole way. Wei Wuxian rested his right hand at his brow, gazing out at the scenery, and somewhere in his laughter he let out a sigh. Everyone asked, “What's wrong, da-shixiong?” “Girls are chasing after you and you're sighing?”

Wei Wuxian shouldered the oar and said, “It's nothing. Just thinking about how I sincerely invited Lan Zhan to come have fun in Yunmeng, and he actually dared turn me down.”

The juniors gave a thumbs-up. “Wow—that's Lan Wangji for you!”

Wei Wuxian declared, full of spirit, “Shut it! One of these days I'll drag him here, then kick him off the boat, trick him into stealing lotus pods, get some old man to whack him with a bamboo pole, and have him chasing after me—hahahaha…”

After a long laugh he turned, glanced at Jiang Cheng sitting alone at the bow with a stony face eating his lotus pod, and his smile slowly faded. He sighed, “Ai, truly a hopeless case.”

Jiang Cheng flared up. “What's wrong with wanting to eat my own?”

Wei Wuxian said, “You—you, Jiang Cheng. Forget it, you're beyond saving. Go ahead and eat alone your whole life!”

In any case, the little lotus-pod-stealing boat once again came home loaded to the brim.

●

Cloud-Deep Unknown Place.

Beyond the deep mountains, a blazing sixth month. Within the deep mountains, though, all was a hushed world, a cool, clear realm.

Outside the Lan Room, two figures in white stood upright along the corridor. The wind passed, the white robes stirring gently while the men did not move at all.

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, standing upright.

Upside down.

Neither said a word, as though they'd entered a meditative state. The babble of a flowing spring, the flutter of birds—the only sounds here, which only made the surroundings seem stiller.

After a long while, Lan Wangji suddenly said, “Xiongzhang.”

Lan Xichen drew slowly out of his meditation, eyes fixed straight ahead. “What is it?”

After a moment's silence, Lan Wangji said, “Have you ever picked lotus pods?”

Lan Xichen tilted his head. “…No.”

If a disciple of the Gusu Lan Sect wanted to eat lotus pods, naturally they didn't need to pick them themselves.

Lan Wangji nodded. “Xiongzhang, did you know?”

Lan Xichen: “Know what?”

Lan Wangji: “Lotus pods with the stem taste better than ones without.”

Lan Xichen said, “Oh? I hadn't heard that. What is it—why bring this up all of a sudden?”

Lan Wangji said, “It's nothing. Time's up. Switch hands.”

The two switched the hand supporting their handstand from right to left, the motion perfectly in unison, soundless, utterly steady.

Lan Xichen was about to ask more, but he looked closer and smiled. “Wangji, you have a guest.”

Along the edge of the wooden corridor, a fluffy white rabbit slowly crept over, nuzzling up against Lan Wangji's upside-down left hand, its pink nose twitching.

Lan Xichen said, “How did it find its way here?”

Lan Wangji told it, “Go back.”

But the white rabbit didn't listen. It bit down on one trailing end of Lan Wangji's Blue Clan Forehead Band and tugged hard, as if it meant to drag Lan Wangji off by it.

Lan Xichen said leisurely, “It wants you to keep it company, I think.”

Unable to drag him, the flustered rabbit hopped a circle around the two of them. Lan Xichen found it amusing. “Is this the rowdy one?”

Lan Wangji said, “Too rowdy.”

Lan Xichen said, “Rowdy's no harm—it's cute, after all. I recall there were two. Aren't the two of them usually together? Why has only one come? Is the other one fond of quiet and unwilling to come out?”

Lan Wangji said, “It'll come.”

Sure enough, before long, a little snow-white head clambered up onto the edge of the wooden corridor too. The other white rabbit had followed, searching for its companion.

The two snowballs chased each other for a while, then finally picked a spot—right beside Lan Wangji's left hand—and squeezed in together, content and at ease, like little Anxin tucked safe.

The pair of white rabbits stuck close, nuzzling and pressing against each other; even seen upside down, the picture was awfully cute. Lan Xichen said, “What are they called?”

Lan Wangji shook his head—whether to say they had no names or simply that he wouldn't say wasn't clear.

But Lan Xichen said, “I heard you call them last time.”

“…”

Lan Xichen said sincerely, “They're very good names.”

Lan Wangji switched hands. Lan Xichen said, “Time isn't up.”

Lan Wangji silently switched his hand back.

An incense-stick's time later, the hour was up, the handstands ended, and the two returned to the elegant chamber to sit in quiet meditation.

A house servant brought in iced melon and fruit to ward off the heat. The watermelon had been skinned, the flesh cut into neat slices and arranged on a jade plate—red, translucent, lovely to look at. The two brothers knelt on the mats, exchanged a few quiet words about what they'd learned in yesterday's lessons, and then began to eat.

Lan Xichen picked up a slice of melon, then saw Lan Wangji staring at the jade plate with an unreadable look, and instinctively stopped his hand.

Sure enough, Lan Wangji spoke. He said, “Xiongzhang.”

Lan Xichen said, “What is it?”

Lan Wangji said, “Have you ever eaten watermelon rind?”

“…” Lan Xichen said, “Can watermelon rind be eaten?”

After a silence, Lan Wangji said, “I hear it can be stir-fried.”

Lan Xichen: “Perhaps it can.”

Lan Wangji: “I hear it tastes quite good.”

“I've never tried.”

“Nor have I.”

“Mm…” Lan Xichen said, “Do you want to have someone try frying it?”

After thinking it over, Lan Wangji shook his head, his expression solemn.

Lan Xichen breathed a sigh of relief.

Somehow, he felt there was no need to ask the question, ‘Who told you that?'…

The next day, Lan Wangji went down the mountain alone.

It wasn't that he rarely went down the mountain—it was that he rarely came alone to the bustling marketplace.

People coming and going, going and coming. Neither the cultivation clans nor the wild hunting grounds had this many people. Even at a crowded conference of pure discussion, the crowd was orderly, not this jam of shoulder to shoulder, where it was nothing strange for someone to step on someone else's foot or bump someone's cart. Lan Wangji had always disliked physical contact with others; seeing this, he paused, but he didn't turn back. He planned to find someone there to ask for directions. To his surprise, even after a good while he couldn't find a single person to ask.

Only then did Lan Wangji realize that it wasn't just that he didn't want to go near others—others didn't want to come near him either.

He simply didn't fit this noisy market at all: spotless, and carrying a sword besides. The peddlers, farmers, and idlers rarely saw a clan young master like this, and every one of them hurried to dodge out of the way. Either they feared he was some unruly nobleman not to be crossed, and nobody wanted to offend him by accident; or they were put off by his cold, severe air—after all, even Lan Xichen had joked that within six feet of Lan Wangji it was bitter winter, where not a blade of grass would grow. Only the women come to market wanted to look as Lan Wangji passed but didn't dare look too long, pretending to be busy with something in their hands, lowering their brows and then lifting their eyes. Once he'd gone by, they clustered behind his back, giggling and tittering.

Lan Wangji had walked a good while before he came upon an old woman sweeping the dust outside a large gateway. He said, “Excuse me—which way to the nearest lotus pond?”

The old woman's eyes weren't good, clouded over and dim, and she was short of breath; she couldn't make him out clearly. She said, “Go that way about eight or nine li—there's a household that grows a few dozen mu of lotus pods.”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My thanks.”

The old woman said, “Young master, that lotus pond won't let people in come evening. If you want to go play there, you'll have to do it in daylight—best go quickly.”

Lan Wangji said again, “My thanks.”

He was about to leave when he saw the old woman jabbing with a long, slender bamboo pole, unable to knock down a dead branch caught under the eaves no matter how long she tried. He pointed a finger, and a thread of sword-qi struck the dead branch loose from across the air, then he turned and walked off.

Eight or nine li was no great distance for his pace. Lan Wangji followed the direction the woman had pointed and pressed onward.

After one li, he left the market; after two li, the houses grew sparse; by four li, all he could see on either side was green hills and verdant fields, footpaths crisscrossing. Only now and then did a crooked little hut send up crooked threads of cooking smoke, and on the field ridges a few mud-caked children with topknots sticking straight up squatted with heads bent, playing in the muck, laughing—you smear me, I smear you. The scene held a rustic charm; Lan Wangji stopped to watch, but before long he was noticed. The mud-children were all small and shy of strangers, and they scattered in a flash. Only then did he set off again and keep walking. At five li, a coolness touched Lan Wangji's face—fine threads of rain had blown in on the breeze.

He looked up at the sky, and sure enough, the gray rolling clouds seemed about to press down. He at once quickened his step, but the rain came faster still.

Just then he saw five or six people standing at the edge of a field ridge up ahead.

The threads of rain had turned to drops, yet these people neither held umbrellas nor took cover—they seemed to be gathered around something, with no mind to attend to anything else. Lan Wangji walked closer and saw a farmer lying on the ground, groaning in pain.

Listening for a couple of lines, Lan Wangji pieced together what had happened. It turned out this farmer had been working his field when he was gored by an ox belonging to another farmer; now, whether he'd hurt his back or broken a leg, he couldn't get up. The ox, having done wrong, had been chased off to stand far away at the edge of the field, head down and tail flicking, not daring to come near. The ox's owner had run off to fetch a doctor, and the remaining farmers didn't dare move the injured man carelessly, afraid of wrecking his bones, so all they dared do was tend to him like this. But the heavens weren't cooperating—it had started to rain. At first it was just a drizzle, bearable, but before long it was coming down right in their faces.

Watching the rain pour harder and harder, one farmer ran home for an umbrella, but his house was far and he wouldn't be back anytime soon. The rest could only fret, cupping their hands to shield the injured farmer as best they could. But this couldn't go on. Even once they got an umbrella, there were only a few—they couldn't very well shelter one or two people and leave everyone else in the rain.

One man muttered a curse: “Like something cursed—a downpour this big, coming out of nowhere.”

Just then one farmer said, “Let's prop up that shed—even if it only holds a moment, that's a moment.”

Not far off stood an abandoned old shed, held up by four wooden posts. One leaned crooked; one, weathered by years of wind and sun, had rotted through.

One man hesitated. “Aren't we not supposed to move him?”

“A… a few steps should be all right.”

The crowd carefully lifted the injured farmer over together, and two went to prop up the broken shed. To their surprise, the two farmers couldn't even raise the one broken shed roof. The others urged them on, and they threw all their strength into it, faces flushing red—and still it didn't budge. Two more joined in, and still it wouldn't move!

The shed's roof was framed in wood and covered with tiles, thatch, and layer upon layer of dust—certainly not light. But not so heavy that four men who'd farmed all their lives couldn't lift it.

Before he'd even gotten close, Lan Wangji knew what was going on. He walked up to the wooden shed, bent down, lifted one corner of the roof, and raised it with a single hand.

The farmers were stunned.

A roof four farmers couldn't lift—this youth had raised it with one hand!

After standing dumbfounded for a moment, one farmer murmured something to the others, and without a moment's hesitation they hurriedly carried the farmer over. As they entered the shed, they all glanced at Lan Wangji, who kept his gaze straight ahead.

Once they'd set the man down, two of them came over. “This… young master, you set it down—we'll take it.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. The two farmers insisted, “You're too young, you won't be able to hold it.”

As they spoke, they raised their hands to help hold up the rain shelter. Lan Wangji glanced at them and, without saying much, simply eased off a fraction of his strength—and the two farmers' faces changed at once.

Lan Wangji drew his gaze back and returned to his former strength, and the two farmers sheepishly crouched back down.

The shed was heavier than they'd imagined—the instant the youth let go, there'd be no holding it up at all.

One man shivered. “Strange—how is it colder in here than out there?”

But none of them could see that at this very moment, hanging in the center of the wooden shed was a figure with withered hair, a long lolling tongue, and ragged clothes.

Outside, the rain lashed and the wind blew, and this figure swayed back and forth beneath the shed, stirring up a gust of ghostly cold.

It was this evil spirit that made the roof so unnaturally heavy that no ordinary person could lift it at all.

Lan Wangji had come out without any implement for Redemption. Since this spirit had no intent to harm people, naturally he couldn't simply beat it to oblivion without rhyme or reason, and for the moment it seemed he couldn't persuade it to let down the body it had hung up either—so all he could do was hold up the roof for now. He'd report it when he got back and send someone to deal with it.

The spirit swayed and dangled behind Lan Wangji for a while, blown about by the wind, complaining, “So cold…”

“…”

It looked left and right, found a farmer to lean against, as if to warm itself up a little. That farmer suddenly shuddered. Lan Wangji turned his head slightly and shot it a single, icy sidelong glance.

The spirit shuddered too and went back, aggrieved. But it still stuck out its tongue and complained, “This big—rain this big—all open like this… it's really so cold…”

“…”

Until the doctor arrived, not one of the farmers dared strike up a word with Lan Wangji. When the rain stopped, they moved the injured man out of the shed; Lan Wangji set down the roof and left without a single word.

By the time he reached the lotus pond, the sun had already set. He was about to step down to the lake when a small boat poled out from the opposite side. A middle-aged woman aboard called, “Hey, hey, hey! What are you here for?”

Lan Wangji said, “To pick lotus pods.”

The woman said, “Sun's down. We don't let people in after dark. Not today—come another day!”

Lan Wangji said, “I won't linger. I'll be gone in a moment.”

The woman said, “No means no, those are the rules. I didn't make the rules—ask the owner.”

Lan Wangji said, “Where is the owner of the lotus pond?”

The lotus-picking woman said, “Went home long ago, so asking me is no use either. If I let you in, the owner of this lake will have nothing kind to say to me—don't make things hard for me.”

Hearing this, Lan Wangji didn't press. He nodded. “Pardon the intrusion.”

Though his expression stayed calm, a kind of disappointment showed through all the same.

The lotus-picking woman looked at him again—white robes like snow, but half soaked through with rain, his white boots stained with mud—and softened her tone. “You came too late today. Come earlier tomorrow. Where are you from? That was such a heavy downpour just now—you didn't run all the way here in the rain, did you, child? No umbrella, even—how far is your home from here?”

Lan Wangji said truthfully, “Thirty-four li.”

Hearing that, the woman choked for a second. “That far! Then it must have taken you ages to get here. If you really want lotus pods that badly, just buy them on the street—there's plenty.”

Lan Wangji was about to turn away, but at this he stopped. “Street lotus pods don't have the stem.”

The woman said, puzzled, “You actually have to have ones with the stem? There's no difference in the taste.”

Lan Wangji said, “There is.”

“There isn't!”

Lan Wangji said stubbornly, “There is. Someone told me there is.”

The woman burst out laughing. “Just who told you that? Such a stubborn little young master—you're bewitched!”

Lan Wangji said nothing, lowering his head, ready to turn back. The woman called out again, “Is your home really that far?”

Lan Wangji said, “Mm.”

The woman said, “What if you… didn't go back today? Find somewhere nearby to stay, and come tomorrow?”

Lan Wangji said, “My home has a curfew. I have lessons tomorrow.”

The woman scratched her head and thought it over for a long, conflicted while. At last she said, “…All right, I'll let you in. Just a little while, a tiny while. If you're going to pick, be quick about it—if someone spots you and goes wagging their tongue to the owner about me, at my age I really don't want to be scolded.”

After fresh rain on the empty mountains—Cloud-Deep Unknown Place.

The magnolias after the rain were especially fresh and lovely. Lan Xichen, delighted by the sight, spread paper on his desk and painted by the window.

Through the carved lattice window, he saw a figure in white walking slowly nearer. Without setting down his brush, Lan Xichen said, “Wangji.”

Lan Wangji came over and, through the window, said, “Xiongzhang.”

Lan Xichen said, “Yesterday I heard you mention lotus pods, and as it happens Shufu had someone buy lotus pods and bring them up the mountain today. Do you want some?”

Lan Wangji said, from outside the window, “I've already eaten.”

Lan Xichen found this a little odd. “Already eaten?”

Lan Wangji: “Mm.”

The brothers exchanged a few more simple words, and then Lan Wangji returned to the quiet chamber.

When the painting was done, Lan Xichen looked at it a while, casually put it away, and forgot all about it. He took out Cracked Ice and went to the place where he practiced the Purifying Mind Tone each day.

Before the little Gentian Lodge, clumps of pale purple were dotted with little beads of dew. Lan Xichen followed the path in, lifted his gaze, and gave a slight start.

On the wooden corridor before the lodge sat a white jade vase, holding several lotus pods of varying heights.

The jade vase was slender, the lotus stems slender too—a very lovely sight.

Lan Xichen put away Cracked Ice, sat down on the corridor facing this jade vase, looked at it from the side a while, and wrestled with himself inside.

In the end, he restrained himself and didn't quietly peel one open to try, to see just what difference a stemmed lotus pod made in taste.

Since Wangji had looked so very happy, then it was probably truly delicious.