Fortunately, Lan Wangji had always been calm and composed, so he did not make a sound at Wei Wuxian’s sudden lunge. However, it was obvious he didn’t understand why they had to hide.
Wei Wuxian was also laboring under a similar confusion.
Yeah, why do we have to hide? It’s not like villagers in the countryside are going to recognize us. Can’t we just tell them honestly that we’re here to buy food? Maybe I’ve committed too many dastardly deeds and have gotten too used to sneaking around.
But the pounce meant he had Lan Wangji pinned underneath him in the soft straw. This half-forceful, suggestive pose evoked a strange feeling of excitement in him, and he decided to simply not get up. Feigning seriousness, he raised his index finger to indicate Lan Wangji was not to make a sound. Then, pretending he had no other alternative, he lay on top of him without any qualms. His heart overflowed with a secret and indescribable delight.
From the courtyard came the sound of wooden stools being pushed and shifted. The farmhouse’s owners seemed to have sat down at the wooden table.
A woman’s voice said, “Er-gege, give him to me; I’ll hold him.”
Lan Wangji froze slightly at the words “er-gege.”
This time, a man’s voice answered. “Just peel the beans.”
This was followed by the mumbling of a child, clearly fast asleep.
Apparently, they were a young husband and wife. The wife was preparing dinner, and the husband was cradling their sleeping child in his arms.
Wei Wuxian grinned broadly as he winked at Lan Wangji. “What a coincidence,” he whispered. “To think one of the farmhouse’s owners is also an er-gege.”
His words had an upward lilt to them, making his teasing obvious. Lan Wangji swept a profound look at him and then twisted his head away. Wei Wuxian’s heart fluttered, and he leaned over to whisper in Lan Wangji’s ear.
“Lan-er-gege.”
Lan Wangji’s breathing appeared to hitch. The gaze he turned on Wei Wuxian carried with it a hint of warning.
In the courtyard, the wife laughed. “You don’t know how to hold him. Won’t I be the one who has to soothe him when you wake him up later by accident?”
“He went wild playing today, and he’s tuckered out,” the husband said. “He won’t wake up for now.”
The wife broke and peeled the beans. “Er-gege, you really have to be a bit stricter with A-Bao. He’s only four years old and already like this. Can you imagine what he’ll be like when he grows up? That other child has been driven to tears a few times already, saying he never wants to play with him again.”
“But he still gives A-Bao attention every time,” the husband pointed out. “He says he doesn’t want to play with him, but deep down, he clearly does.”
Wei Wuxian let loose a snicker. “Lan-er-gege, what do you think about that? Do you agree?”
“Stop talking,” Lan Wangji said.
Ordinary folks could not hear their quiet commentary. As the couple chattered about their domestic trivialities, Wei Wuxian relentlessly whispered “Lan-er-gege” in Lan Wangji’s ear seven or eight times. His crooning was light and soft.
As if he could no longer bear the sound of it, Lan Wangji suddenly flipped them over in a quick, steady movement that didn’t even rustle the pile of straw. Wei Wuxian was now pinned beneath him.
“Say it again and you will be silenced,” Lan Wangji stated in a whisper.
Wei Wuxian reached for his face, but Lan Wangji caught his wrist at once.
Wei Wuxian told him, quite solemnly, “Hanguang-jun, there’s straw stuck on your forehead ribbon.”
On hearing this, Lan Wangji slowly released his grip. Wei Wuxian helped him remove the tiny piece of straw. Bringing it before Lan Wangji’s eyes, he smugly said, “See? I didn’t lie to you, did I?”
Before he could be smug for long, he heard the young wife say, “Even so, you can’t just let A-Bao bully others as he pleases.”
Unruffled, her husband commented, “Let him be; he’s a boy. Boys always bully the ones they’re sweet on. They just want their undivided attention.”
Wei Wuxian’s smile froze at those words.
The child seemed to wake at that point. He mumbled something in his little voice, and the husband and wife both hurriedly soothed him, playing with him for a moment until he fell asleep again.
“Er-gege, that isn’t the only reason I told you to discipline A-Bao,” the young woman said. “Things haven’t been safe of late. You have to tell him not to run all over while he’s out playing and to come home earlier.”
“I know,” the husband replied. “Is this about the old graves that got dug up near the village a few days back?”
“I hear it’s not just our village,” the wife said. “Even the ancestral graves of city folk have been disturbed. It’s bizarre. It’s better for A-Bao to play at home and not keep going outside.”
“Yeah. It would be bad if he ran into that Yiling Patriarch or something,” the husband said.
Wei Wuxian was speechless. “…”
“I grew up listening to stories about the Yiling Patriarch,” the young woman said softly. “‘If you’re naughty, I’ll have the Yiling Patriarch come for you and feed you to the ghosts!’ I thought that was just adults having fun scaring children, but who knew? He really existed, and he really came back.”
“Yeah,” the husband chimed in. “The moment I heard about the grave-digging, I thought of him. And I was right. The city is abuzz with rumors now.”
There was nothing Wei Wuxian could do but resign himself to being inextricably linked with grave-digging. He’d done his fair share of it in the past, that much was true. The Sunshot Campaign was by far the most infamous example—he’d dug the hell out of every last Wen ancestral graveyard and conscripted every last one of their clan’s corpses into his army of the dead. And he’d also turned every single Wen cultivator he killed into his puppets, commanding them to slaughter their own kin and companions…