“When did you start following us?” Wei Wuxian asked.
“Since Golden Carp Tower,” Lan Wangji replied.
Wei Wuxian looked at Wen Ning.
“He lent a helping hand during the fight against the various sects,” Lan Wangji explained further.
Wei Wuxian sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to find a place to hide and not worry about anything?”
Wen Ning gave a wry smile. “But, gongzi…where would I go to hide?”
Once upon a time, he’d had somewhere he could return to, people he could follow. But now, everyone other than Wei Wuxian was incomparably unfamiliar to him.
After a moment of silence, Wei Wuxian stood and patted off the dust on his bottom hems.
“Let’s bury them.”
Wen Ning nodded hurriedly and continued working away at the partially dug pit.
Lan Wangji drew Bichen. The moment the sword’s aura emerged, the ground cracked apart and muddy soil went flying everywhere.
“Hanguang-jun, are you going to help with grave-digging too?” Wei Wuxian asked.
Lan Wangji turned his head, about to speak, when he saw Wen Ning standing right behind him. Wen Ning tried his best to lift the stiffened corners of his lips and squeeze out a smile.
“…Lan-gongzi, do you need any help? I’ve finished digging my side.”
Lan Wangji glanced behind him at the row of pitch-black pits and the mounds of soil piled up neat and high.
Wen Ning maintained his “smile.” “I do this sort of thing often. I’m experienced. Fast.”
No explanation was needed as to who often made him do that sort of thing.
After a moment of silence, Lan Wangji said, “No need. Go help…”
Trailing off, he realized Wei Wuxian had not moved at all but was squatting over to the side, watching them work. He’d swiped a melon on his way out of the farmhouse, and now seemed to be mulling over how to cut it open. He caught sight of Lan Wangji’s judgmental gaze.
“Hanguang-jun, don’t look at me like that. I have no tools and my spiritual power is weak, right? Every discipline has its experts—that much is true. When it comes to digging graves, Wen Ning is the fastest. The two of us might as well discuss how to eat this melon. Bichen isn’t usable for the time being, since it just dug a grave. Do either of you have spare blades or swords or something?”
Wen Ning shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t bring anything.”
“Hanguang-jun, um…” Wei Wuxian said. “Did you bring Suibian with you?”
“…” Lan Wangji gave no comment.
In the end, he still retrieved Suibian from his qiankun sleeve. With the melon in one hand and the sword in the other, Wei Wuxian gave the blade a flashy twirl. Swoosh, swoosh. He cut the melon into eight pieces, then crouched back on the ground to eat while he watched the other two diligently dig graves.
Within an incense time, Wen Ning had dug a row of neat, uniform pits. He apologized as he interred the corpses he had previously dismembered.
“I’m really sorry, everyone. I can’t tell your corpses apart anymore. Please don’t take offense if I bury you in the wrong arrangement…”
After finishing the melon and burying the remaining corpses, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continued on their journey.
Several days later, they arrived in Yiling.
The Burial Mounds were less than five kilometers ahead of this small town. Although they didn’t know exactly what awaited them there, Wei Wuxian had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.
But Lan Wangji was right by his side, his gait steady, his gaze cool. Wei Wuxian had never been one with any sense of crisis to begin with, and with the way Lan Wangji looked, he was even less likely to get nervous at all.
Passing through the small town of Yiling, he was awash in the sounds of the local accent. It was invigorating and incomparably endearing. While he wasn’t planning on buying anything, he couldn’t help but strike up conversations in the local dialect with the street vendors. Only after he’d had his fill of socializing did he get down to business.
“Hanguang-jun, you remember this town, right?”
Lan Wangji gave a slight nod. “Yes.”
Wei Wuxian grinned. “I knew you had a better memory than me. We ran into each other once, right here in this town. I happened to bump into you when you came to Yiling for a Night Hunt and said I’d treat you to a meal. Remember that too?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a shame you still ended up paying the bill, ha ha!” Wei Wuxian laughed. He sat cross-legged on the donkey, swaying back and forth, and asked with seeming nonchalance, “Speaking of which, Hanguang-jun—do you have any plans to retreat in retirement?”
Lan Wangji paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering the question. Wei Wuxian struck while the iron was hot and pushed further.
“Have you even considered what you’ll do when you retire?”
Lan Wangji regarded him. “Not yet.”
Perfect! Then I’ll help you think, Wei Wuxian thought.
He would find a sparsely populated spot with picturesque scenery and build a big house for himself there. He could help Lan Wangji build one next door too. There’d be home-cooked meals and soup every day. Of course, it would be best if Lan Wangji did the cooking. Otherwise, they’d be stuck with whatever Wei Wuxian made. It would be best if Lan Wangji handled the household finances as well.
Before his eyes, there materialized an image of Lan Wangji wearing coarse clothing with patches sewn on his chest and knees, sitting expressionlessly at a handmade wooden table as he counted money one coin at a time. Once he finished counting, Lan Wangji would sling a hoe over his shoulder and head off to work for the day. Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian would… He would… What would he do?
Wei Wuxian reflected seriously on what he ought to be doing. People often talked about earning their daily necessities by working the fields or weaving. Well, someone was already tilling the land, so that left him with the job of weaving. The very idea made him wince—he saw himself stuck sitting cross-legged in front of a loom all day, restlessly jiggling his knee. No, he should be the one out with the hoe, and Lan Wangji the one weaving. The latter was more suited to it.