Immediately following the collapse of the Wen Clan of Qishan, Nightless City also seemed to vanish with the break of dawn. What had once been the most flourishing city of the cultivation world was reduced to ruins. Scores of cultivators sought out new hubs and relocated to new cities. Of these, the four cities that saw the largest influx were Lanling, Yunmeng, Gusu, and Qinghe.
It was now two months later.
In Yunmeng, people hurried along a long, rambling street. The various clans’ and sects’ up-and-coming disciples strolled around with their swords at their waists, pontificating to each other on the world’s current state of affairs. All were in high spirits.
All of a sudden, the people milling about the long street lowered their voices slightly and looked in unison toward the end of the road. A young man in white was slowly walking along. He wore a forehead ribbon and carried a guqin and sword on his back.
This man’s appearance was extremely dashing and refined, yet he seemed to be enveloped in an aura of frost and snow. Before he had even drawn close to the crowds, the cultivators fell silent of their own initiative and met his eyes as a show of respect. Some of the slightly more well-known ones boldly went forward to pay their salutations.
“Hanguang-jun.”
Lan Wangji nodded his head slightly, meticulously returning each greeting. He did not linger, and the other cultivators backed off voluntarily, not daring to bother him.
However, a colorfully dressed young girl approached him with a smile. She brushed past him in a hurry and suddenly threw something to him as she did. Lan Wangji swiftly caught it and lowered his head to inspect it.
It was a flower bud, white as snow, delicate and fresh, with dew still gathered on it. As Lan Wangji stood silent and motionless, another lithe and graceful figure walked over and tossed a small, light blue flower with a wave of her hand. She had meant to aim for his chest, but it missed and hit him on his shoulder instead. Lan Wangji caught it with his fingertips and turned to look at her. That woman giggled and feigned bashfulness, covering her face as she fled.
The third time was a young girl of tender age who wore her hair in double-buns. She skipped toward him, holding a bouquet of flowering branches in her arms. They were sprinkled with red buds. She threw the bouquet at his chest, then turned and ran.
This happened again and again. Lan Wangji was expressionless as he stood there on the street, bearing an armful of flowers and flowering branches in a myriad of colors. The cultivators who recognized Hanguang-jun wanted to laugh but didn’t dare to; they put on solemn looks even as their gazes kept drifting over. On the other hand, the common folk who didn’t recognize him were already starting to point at him. As Lan Wangji pondered this predicament with eyes downcast, he felt something land on his head. He raised his hand. A blooming pink peony had landed right on target, tucking itself into his hair above his ear.
A smiling voice called to him from the top of a tall building nearby. “Lan Zhan—ah, rather, Hanguang-jun. What a coincidence!”
Lan Wangji looked up to see an elaborate building decorated with fluttering gauze curtains. A slender man dressed in black reclined against the red-lacquered balustrade. One of his arms dangled from the railing, holding an exquisite black earthenware wine jug. Half of the wine jug’s red tassel was draped over his arm, while the other half drifted leisurely in the breeze.
At the sight of Wei Wuxian, the disciples from the various clans and sects who had initially been watching the show now pulled odd faces. Everyone knew that the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun were not on good terms. They bickered often, even when they fought on the same side during the Sunshot Campaign, and it was anyone’s guess what would go down between the two of them this time. Giving up all pretense of politeness, everyone stared at the two men with increasing interest.
Contrary to what they expected, Lan Wangji did not leave with a cold flick of his sleeves. He merely said, “It is you.”
“It is me!” Wei Wuxian confirmed. “The only one who would do such a frivolous thing is, of course, me. Wherever did you find the time to visit Yunmeng? If you’re not in a hurry, why not come on up for a drink?”
A few young girls surrounded Wei Wuxian. They squeezed together at the balustrade and beamed down at Lan Wangji with coaxing smiles.
“That’s right, gongzi. Come on up for a drink!”
Those girls were the ones who had been tossing flowers at Lan Wangji earlier. It wasn’t hard to guess who’d told them to do so.
Lan Wangji lowered his head and turned to leave. Wei Wuxian was not at all surprised to see Lan Wangji’s lack of reaction to his teasing. With a click of his tongue, he rolled off the balustrade seat and tilted his head back to drink a mouthful of liquor from the jug. Unexpectedly, a moment later, moderate and unhurried footsteps echoed from the floor below.
With steady steps, Lan Wangji ascended the stairs and lifted the curtain to enter the room where Wei Wuxian was idling. The strings of the beaded curtain clinked together, the sound clear as a melody.
He set the collection of flowers that he had been pelted with on the small table. “Your flowers.”
Wei Wuxian leaned over to the table. “You’re welcome. They’re your flowers, since I gave them to you.”
“Why?” Lan Wangji asked.
“Why not?” Wei Wuxian answered. “Just wanted to see your reaction to this kind of thing.”
“Frivolous,” Lan Wangji said.
“You bet,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “That’s the only reason why I would’ve dragged you all the way up here… Oh, come on, man. Don’t leave. You’re already here, so why not have a cup or two before you go?”
“Alcohol is prohibited.”
“I know booze is prohibited at your place. But this isn’t the Cloud Recesses. It’s fine to have a cup or two.”
Those girls promptly produced a new wine cup. Once they’d filled it to the brim, they pushed it over toward the flowers. Lan Wangji still didn’t look inclined to take a seat, but he didn’t seem inclined to leave either.
“You rarely make trips down to Yunmeng. Are you really not going to sample the fine local liquor?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Well, though the liquor here’s lovely, it still can’t compare to Emperor’s Smile from Gusu. That’s some unparalleled stuff. When I have a chance to visit Gusu again, I’m going to grab eight or ten jugs, stash them away, and guzzle them all in one go. Say, what’s the matter with you? There’s places all around to sit and you just have to keep standing there. Come on, take a seat.”
The girls all urged him on.
“Go on, take a seat!”
“Sit down, won’t you?”
Lan Wangji’s light eyes frostily examined the charming, beautiful girls before his gaze landed on the shiny black, red-tasseled flute hung on Wei Wuxian’s waist. He lowered his head, seeming to be contemplating his choice of wording. Wei Wuxian quirked an eyebrow at the sight of this, as if he’d already figured out what Lan Wangji was about to say.
Sure enough, Lan Wangji slowly said, “You should not while away your time with things nefarious.”
The teasing smiles on the faces of the girls around Wei Wuxian instantly vanished.
The gauze curtains fluttered, intermittently blocking out the sunlight. The interior of the room flickered between illumination and darkness. The girls’ snow-white faces seemed too pale, as if they were totally devoid of blood. They almost seemed ghostly. Their eyes stared so fixedly at Lan Wangji that it was chilling.
Wei Wuxian lifted a hand to motion for them to stand down and shook his head. “Lan Zhan, the older you get, the less interesting you become. You’re so young. It’s not like you’re seventy or eighty. Why do you keep following your shufu’s example, always so methodically concerned with lecturing people?”
Lan Wangji turned and took a step closer to Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying, it is best if you return to Gusu with me after all.”
“…It’s been a long time since I heard you say that. The Sunshot Campaign is over; I thought you’d long since given up.”
“Did you notice certain signs during the Siege Hunt on Mount Baifeng?” Lan Wangji asked.