Please click here for supplemental materials. They are organized in a collapsed accordion menu so you can pick and choose what you want to see. Headers include: About the Prompt, About the Art and Artists, SPOILERS! Content Advisories and Trigger Warnings, Worldbuilding Assumptions (rough notes, no serious spoilers), Chinese Terms (potential spoilers, will be addressed in relevant chapters), OC List (some spoilers).

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Cover by Jenrose

Part 1: Original Timeline

Chapter 1: Jinlintai

Training

Arrival

The first time he is brought to Jinlintai, Mo Xuanyu is in awe. He’s fourteen, gangling in the way of young teenagers, and the fact that his father has finally come, finally wants him, finally is bringing him into the fold of the family, overwhelms him.

He walks up the steps, taking in the majesty and overwhelming glitter of the place one stair at a time, then realizes his father is almost to the top and hurries to catch up, a few steps behind Jin Guangshan. At the top, his father snaps at someone, “Attire him properly. Your brother will be joining us.”

“Yes, Fuqin,” someone says, and then Mo Xuanyu is at the top of the stairs, and he sees his brother for the first time. 

“What is his name?” the young man in the black gauze hat asks. 

“Mo Xuanyu,” says Jin Guangshan, curtly.

“Will it be… changed?”

“If he earns it,” Jin Guangshan says, and then looks down at Mo Xuanyu. “You will be Jin Xuanyu if you develop a proper golden core. If you like, when that happens, we might change your courtesy name to Guangyu. Your brother used to be Meng Yao. He is now Jin Guangyao because he killed our enemy and brought glory to the clan. But his core is not strong. Can you be stronger?”

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know where to look, but he can’t help seeing the flash of anger on Jin Guangyao’s face, quickly papered over with a pleasant smile.

“I’m sure my didi will do well,” Jin Guangyao says. “Come, Xuanyu. Fuqin has much to do, he is a very busy man.”

And with that, Jin Guangshan stalks away, and Mo Xuanyu is left with his brother. 

“I will have rooms prepared for you near mine,” Jin Guangyao says, gesturing for Mo Xuanyu to accompany him. “Have you done any work on developing a core yet?”

“I didn’t know how to start,” Mo Xuanyu says, hurrying alongside. “Fuqin stopped visiting when I was four. All I knew was that he was a clan leader and Xiandu. And my mother swore he’d come back for me.”

“I suppose she was right,” Jin Guangyao says. “I was sixteen when I started learning. And I’m not strong, but I’m clever, and that matters with cultivation. If you focus, you have a head start. He never visited me at all.”

There is something in his voice. Mo Xuanyu says softly, “I wasn’t sure I wanted to come.”

“Don’t say that to anyone else,” Jin Guangyao says through clenched teeth. “You have been magnanimously granted a tremendous privilege. And it may feel insulting that you did not simply get it as a right of being his son, but you will never let it show, do you understand?”

“Yes, gege. Or should I call you something else?”

“Xiongzhang would be appropriate,” Jin Guangyao says. “If you like, I can call you Xuanyu or A-Yu.”

“Either, whatever you want, Xiongzhang,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“I’ll speak to the training master about getting you started. I’m afraid I began my training with the Nie, and if you are to be a Jin cultivator, you should start yours as you mean to continue. I cannot teach you.” With great efficiency, Jin Guangyao catches a servant and requests the room be prepared immediately, and then shortly after sends another servant to fetch clothing and a bath to the relevant room. 

The attention is giddying, but soon Mo Xuanyu finds himself sitting alone in an oddly ornate bedroom, waiting for the bath to be filled, as his brother leaves to continue on another task. 

The first year

The clothes are fine, the bath is nice, there are ample snacks and treats and no one is stealing them from him, and there is a remarkable dearth of people hitting or yelling at him, generally.

His father’s interest in him seems to have started and ended with bringing him to the tower. Mo Xuanyu’s ideas of maybe spending time learning from his father were only half-formed to begin with, but they die a quick death. 

“He is busy,” someone tells him, when he asks where his father is. Eventually he stops asking.

Jin Guangyao is more present, making sure he has what he needs, getting him set up with a tutor as there is no group class that will be appropriate to his combination of reading ability and complete lack of cultivator training. He needs baby lessons for cultivators, but his reading, calligraphy, art, and mathematical skills surprise the instructors. 

“My mother taught me to read,” he explains. “And there was a library in my grandfather’s quarters which no one else used, and it was the one place my cousin would never think to go. I used to go there and draw, or read, as much as I could get away with.”

“You are very careful with paper, I see,” says the Jin training master, while testing him. 

“Oh, I couldn’t waste it, and wrecking a book would have gotten me beaten. My aunt was just pleased enough at my drawing and scribe work that she allowed me paper and ink, once my hand was neat enough to take dictation for her.”

“Well, late-formed cores tend to be weaker than the early-formed ones, but with a good hand, you could learn to make and use talismans. Do you know how to read cursive?”

Mo Xuanyu does not. But learning the new technique and the underlying theory becomes an endless fascination for him. The idea that words have power is not new. That he can simply craft the right sigils in the right placement on special paper, with special ink, and suddenly have light, or heat, or a blowing wind, or a defense against the evil in the world? Magic indeed.

It takes several weeks for him to be able to sense spiritual energy. And longer than that to get the hang of moving it within his body. 

He’s starting to learn basic sword forms with a practice blade with the baby disciples, the little six-year-olds who are expected to spend the next three to five years condensing a core. It’s a little embarrassing at first, but he catches on, and his physical strength compared to the scant weight of the small practice sword is much better than a six-year-old’s, so the kids end up seeing him as more of a practice assistant than a peer. 

He’s never had anything to compare himself to, at Mo Village, but he’s starting to think that he might be pretty good at learning quickly. 

He develops a rudimentary golden core within his first year, but after that, progress is frustratingly slow. He asks for help, for guidance, but gets mostly shrugs and is told to meditate more. His teachers tell him he should focus on talismans, since his core is so weak, but they don’t tell him how to strengthen his core further. 

The lessons are endless, but he doesn’t mind them.

He’s too busy to gossip that first year. He’s vaguely aware that his brother’s wife has just given birth, but she’s in her month of sitting and no one thinks to bring him in to see the little boy until well after the hundred-day celebration. 

Qin Su is kind to him, and A-Song is very cute. She asks that he join them for dinner regularly, since he enjoys playing with his nephew so much.

The second year

The second year, joining his age-mates is a rude awakening. He has a golden core now, but it’s a small thing, and tires quickly.

The whispers start, first. He responds to someone asking him who he thinks he is, when he shows someone up on a written test (he wasn’t trying to, it just wasn’t that hard,) by answering honestly. 

“I’m Zongzhu’s youngest son? I’m supposed to earn my place. They told me to try my best.”

“Zongzhu’s bastard, more like. There’s more where you came from, bastard, don’t think you can’t be replaced.” The speaker is an older boy, seventeen or so. “They only brought you here so that the other bastard wouldn’t get too comfortable.”

“How is any of that my fault? I was told to do my best, and I’m trying,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Am I supposed to not answer test questions correctly because you didn’t study?”

That’s his first beating. He goes to Jin Guangyao about it and is told to avoid them, to not antagonize them. 

It doesn’t feel like the right answer, but then he starts to pay attention, and realizes how constantly Jin Guangyao hears about his own parentage, how little his father supports his older son.

The teachers do stop announcing top marks, which should help, but doesn’t, because now when he isn’t at the top of the class, they get mad at him for making it so others don’t get recognition either. 

His golden core progress is painfully slow. He knows that the late start is the culprit, but it’s hard to make himself continue the exercises for so very little payoff. He does, but the lack of internal commitment doesn’t help with their effectiveness.

Someone says to him, “Well, you can always find someone stronger than you to dual cultivate with you when you’re older. That ought to do it, if you don’t mind being a cutsleeve.” 

They’re teasing, but he’s never even heard of cutsleeves before, so he asks his brother, who directs him with a sigh to a different part of the library to further his long-neglected education about sex and sexuality. 

He reads about men and women, and is bemused. It seems like a lot of mess and fuss and for what? Children? Who is he to even consider fathering children when he can’t protect himself?

He reads the story of the cut sleeve and about dual cultivation between men and is immediately thrown into crisis. He didn’t… he wasn’t… that’s possible? It’s not the sex, per se, that draws him in, but the men in the drawings. The receiving man in one drawing is drawn like a beautiful maiden, painted face, jewelry, even a pretty dress. It is obvious, still, that he is a man, because it’s that kind of picture, but he’s so… 

Mo Xuanyu has always been put off by the changes in his own body and the roughness of most of the men he’s known, the loud, brashness expected of him. And suddenly here is a man who is allowed to be beautiful, soft. 

He tries to imagine the reaction of his classmates if he came into a training session with makeup and a women’s gown. He looks at his own reflection, distorted in a brass mirror, and tries to imagine what it would be like to put his hair up, paint his face, cover over the boy of it all until all that is left is softness and beauty. He shakes his head.

He’s almost sixteen, and his entire idea of who he is, who he wants to be, has shifted. 

He doesn’t do anything about it, but people notice. Word gets back to his father, somehow, that he’s not keeping up with swords and with golden core development, but that he’s extremely talented with talismans.

His father is disappointed but not surprised, and his expression grows remarkably calculating as he considers the reports from his instructors. “This might not be a complete loss,” he says.

Mo Xuanyu dies a little inside at that. 

“Well, perhaps you can work more closely with your brother, after all,” Jin Guangshan says. “He’d be a good fit, don’t you think?” This is directed at Jin Guangyao. 

“He’ll need to be more isolated from his peers,” Jin Guangyao says, face unreadable.

“I don’t mind that,” Mo Xuanyu says. “They don’t like me anyway.”

“Fine, fine. Make it happen,” Jin Guangshan says, and they are dismissed with a wave of his hand. 

Subversion

Sixteen

A week after that, he turns sixteen. There is no great celebration, but he is given a few gifts from his teachers, from his sister-in-law, from his brother. There is a small purse from his father. Small by Jinlintai standards, but more money than Mo Xuanyu has ever had in his possession in his life. More importantly, the purse is a qiankun pouch. And his brother gives him a new robe to wear under his Jin attire, one with hidden qiankun pockets. 

Mo Xuanyu asks how the qiankun pockets are made. Jin Guangyao sends him to a building in the back of the clan, hard to get to from the outside, with a token and a note. 

Qiankun bags and pockets have more to do with talismanry than they do with the usual sword cultivation. Jin techniques are highly guarded, but as the son of the clan leader, he is grudgingly allowed in.

He learns, quickly, and the qiankun master is startled that one with such a weak core can be so adept at this. 

There’s something mathematical about it. He asks if there are books about how the techniques were developed. He is given a student copy, and spends days with it.

Something is missing from the theory, something important, and he can’t put his finger on it. The function of the final products is clear. The instructions work, after all, but the implications of the initial theory and the developed final product seem to be missing something.

He asks to see the originals. 

The master shrugs and stands over him as he pores through the oldest bamboo scrolls, gently unrolling them, ink fading with age. 

“This one is shorter,” he says. It’s one of the middle ones. In fact, he suspects that not only is the one shorter than it should be, but the entire shelf that that section was on is decidedly less full than the others. “Something’s been removed.”

The qiankun master shrugs. “It has always been like this, since I first had access.” 

Mo Xuanyu learns some about the weaving of the bags, but not how to do it. It’s not that important—the weave of the cloth is not what makes the function. The weave just makes them more sellable.

The talismanic work that makes the pouches function is actual embroidery, as well as a carved wooden or metal disk sewn into the base. 

“It’s like a talisman and array, working together,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Exactly like.”

He spends a few months in the baggery, as the apprentices call it, until he comprehends how the talisman provides a tiny openable doorway into the much larger space the array defines. There’s also an element of will, to allow the bearer to think about what they want and bring it out without having to rummage, written into the talisman embroidery.

He explains what he’s been learning to Jin Guangyao, over dinner with his wife and son, and Jin Guangyao nods appreciatively. “I wanted to learn talisman work, but have had very little time. Would you be interested in more esoteric studies?”

He basks in his brother’s approval. Of course he’s interested. 

That’s how he ends up transcribing Wei Wuxian’s notes. He has an eye for the missing pieces. Once he’s worked on many of the notes, Jin Guangyao puts a stack of talismans in front of him and says, “Now that you’re familiar with his hand and his mindset, please examine these so that we might understand better what each of them does.”

The notes have been chaotic, jumping from topic to topic seemingly at random. There are doodles in the margins, random sketches of potential devices, not nearly enough fleshing them out to be useful. 

The notes make more sense when he looks at the talismans. Some of the notes. Some of the pages are rough descriptions of something about the dizi, some are diagrams of devices that seem baffling in purpose and construction. There’s one page which is still nearly incoherent, written in a faster than usual cursive scrawl halfway between standard cursive and talisman runes. He sets the page aside, to look at later, when he understands the talismans better.

He’s copied about half the notes down, one idea per paper so as to better reorganize them, when Jin Guangyao asks him if he’d like to learn how to play the dizi. 

Mo Xuanyu answers without looking up. “It might make this easier to understand, if I at least had some grounding in the theory.” He stares down ruefully at the notes spread around him. 

“Stand up, Xuanyu, and greet this sect leader,” his xiongzhang says. Shocked, Mo Xuanyu looks up, to see Su-zongzhu standing a few feet behind his brother. 

He scrambles to his feet and bows as elegantly as he knows how. “Apologies, Su-zongzhu. This one did not see that the sect leader was here.”

Su-zongzhu gives a patronizing smile as he glances up. “It’s alright, A-Yu. We are to be working together. I will teach you to play the dizi.”

Mo Xuanyu drops his eyes back down. His brother has asked him to treat Su-zongzhu with every respect, but there is something artificial about the excessive familiarity. From his brother it would be an endearment. From Su Minshan it feels like he’s been relegated back to servant status. He will please his brother if he can.

“It would be an honor,” Mo Xuanyu says. “At your convenience.”

Seventeen

At age seventeen, Mo Xuanyu has been working closely with Su Minshan for months, and has started to learn how to control resentful energy, when Nie-zongzhu suffers a qi deviation on the steps of Jinlintai.

Everyone around him seems very raw, but he sees Jin Guangyao flip from being heartbroken and comforting Lan Xichen to being matter-of-fact and calculating with Su Minshan moments later, and he wonders. Nie Huaisang spends a lot of time at Jinlintai weeping, but his grief doesn’t fade when he turns away from Jin Guangyao or Lan Xichen. 

He intercepts a tea service intended for the new Nie-zongzhu, and brings it to him, setting it down and preparing a cup, which he gently puts in Nie-zongzhu’s hand. 

Nie Huaisang looks up at him, blinks, and says, “Oh, Mo-gongzi.” 

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Mo Xuanyu says quietly. “I know everyone’s been on and on about the transfer of leadership and all of that, but I… I think sometimes we just need to be sad.”

“I keep hearing him telling me to stop being so frivolous,” Nie Huaisang says, considering him. “No choice now, I suppose.”

“I don’t know,” says Mo Xuanyu. “I really don’t know anything about leading a clan.”

Nie Huaisang tips his head a little to one side, flips up his fan, and says, “I'm a weak cultivator. Everyone underestimates me. They keep going on about strength, and I just want to figure out what happened and how to stop my people from dying. I want my brother.”

Mo Xuanyu considers this and says, “I started learning late. My core is weak. I’m the spare bastard who is here to keep my older brother from being too comfortable. If someone told me to lead the clan, I’d probably run away. But I do know that they always, always underestimate me here, and I try to keep it that way, because showing strength when I have little would make me a target.”

“I can’t run away,” Nie Huaisang says. “I won’t. Something happened to my brother, and I want to know why it got so bad, so fast. But maybe…” he closes his fan, sets the teacup down, and rises. “I think I will go home. Thank you for the tea, Mo-gongzi.”

Mo Xuanyu bows deeply. “Please, Nie-zongzhu, I’m just Mo Xuanyu.” 

“Then you must call me Nie Huaisang, I have precious few who will ever call me by my name again.” Nie Huaisang does not wait for an answer before turning and saying, “I’ll go first.”

Mo Xuanyu watches him go, bemused.

Things settle down quickly enough.

Mo Xuanyu spends most of his time studying, working on the tasks his brother gives him. Su Minshan has deemed his playing “adequate,” but privately, Mo Xuanyu suspects that he has simply hit the limit of Su Minshan’s imagination. The Su sect leader is a powerful cultivator, but he seems to have a few specific tricks that he relies on. He can raise a fierce corpse and direct it to attack. If Mo Xuanyu raises a corpse, Su Minshan can take it from him. 

Well. Mo Xuanyu figured out very early that he should not exceed a sect leader in front of that sect leader. He can feel where the control could be broken, if need be. But he doesn’t use that knowledge. It seems to him that the primary advantage of such a technique is that if you time it right, the other person won’t know you’re doing it. 

He expresses frustration at having the control taken away, and Su Minshan laughs, and says, “It worked against the Yiling Laozu, didn’t it? Do you think you’re somehow stronger than him? Stronger than me?”

But he doesn’t elaborate. 

Mo Xuanyu has heard much of the Yiling Laozu. That he was evil, that he killed Jin clan members and stole prisoners, then killed Jin Zixun and Jin Zixuan in an ambush, and then slew thousands of cultivators in a single night before committing suicide. He wonders when Su Minshan had the chance to get one over on the man, and if so, why he hadn’t saved the Jin. He knows better than to ask.

It’s hard to reconcile the Yiling Laozu’s evil reputation with the bunnies doodled in the margins of Wei Wuxian’s notes.

His father summons Mo Xuanyu and Jin Guangyao to his study to ask for progress. Mo Xuanyu stammers out his work with the notes, and with the dizi, and with the talismans.

“Good, good,” Jin Guangshan says without really looking at him. “Guangyao, let him look at the artifacts and see what he can make of them.”

Jin Guangyao’s flash of a response is complex, but he smiles, nods, and then says, “Of course, Fuqin.”

“Go on, boy,” Jin Guangshan says to Mo Xuanyu. “I have things I need to discuss with your brother.”

Mo Xuanyu leaves. He stands outside the door for a moment, but there is some sort of privacy talisman on the study, so he doesn’t linger long.

Mo Xuanyu treats his brother with great deference. He has always known his place is fragile here, and chooses the path of demonstrating loyalty at every turn. He takes several meals per week with Jin Guangyao and Qin Su and little Jin Rusong. The boy is going to be four soon. The child is quiet and easy to be around, but Mo Xuanyu notices Jin Guangyao watching with a concerned look more often than not. 

Sometimes Lan-zongzhu is there. Lan Xichen is always kind to Mo Xuanyu, dotes on little A-Song, and often plays restful music after the dinner, music that seems to wash away some of the ever-encroaching dread that comes with working with resentful energy. He says it is because it feels like there is resentful energy lingering from Chifeng-Zun’s qi deviation. He looks so sad when he says his sworn brother’s name.

Mo Xuanyu is absolutely certain that’s not where it’s coming from. He can feel resentful energy below his feet. There are a number of sources under Jinlintai, a byproduct of the demonic cultivation they’ve been teaching him.

He thinks about telling Lan Xichen, but then thinks about how close he and Jin Guangyao are, and how tenuous his place has always felt here. And he stays silent.

The new spiritual devices, mostly broken, are a fascinating project he can immerse himself in for months. He cleans up a few of them and recommends that his brother put the gadgets into general circulation.

“Do you want credit?” Jin Guangyao asks.

“They’re not my designs,” Mo Xuanyu says. “People should be able to use them. I noticed a second hand on some of the design notes that came with them?”

“Not important,” Jin Guangyao says. “You’ve done well, Didi.”

Mo Xuanyu blushes and murmurs, “Xiongzhang, this one is just doing as he was asked.”

“Nevertheless.”

A day later, there is a new purse in his room, and a note that says, “Father was pleased.”

He has spent very little of the money he’s been given. He squirrels it away into the qiankun pockets he’s put in his innermost layers. Having it known that he has money feels like begging for a beating and not having money anymore, so he will protest his poverty. He does not allow himself to think about why.

The harder to understand notes make more sense in the context of the relevant artifacts. But along with that, some of Wei Wuxian’s worried ramblings become clearer. 

Mo Xuanyu finds himself less and less eager to write down complete transcripts of the things he can now understand. He’s not sure anyone else could break it down the way he has—even with the things he has figured out, often it is only the end result which is used. His brother, his father, and Su Minshan all look confused at the explanations.

He thinks, “I could be the one to put these into their hands. Do I want to?”

He waits.

Eighteen

Jin Guangshan dies when Mo Xuanyu is eighteen years old. 

He barely remembers his father from his early childhood, and has spent so very little time with him in his time at Jinlintai that he finds he is only distantly regretful. Jin Guangyao in public acts the dutiful, grieving son. Jin Guangyao in private seems exactly as he always has—breathtakingly competent and calculatingly pleasant. Mo Xuanyu finds himself alternating between annoying emotionality and frustrated anger, but the one thing his brother has been exquisitely careful to teach him is how to hide his feelings. 

“You may feel whatever you like,” Jin Guangyao says after Mo Xuanyu has an outburst about one of the cousins. “But if you let them see it, you give them a weapon.”

The circumstances of his father’s death are terrible, and utterly believable.

At first, Jin-furen takes over the clan, saying she will be regent until Jin Ling is of age, but she soon grows ill and dies. “Shame,” say some. “Too many losses,” say others.

Mo Xuanyu had learned early to stay out of Jin-furen’s way. To her, his very existence had been an affront, and whenever she’d had a chance, she’d always found a way to punish him for it. He is not particularly grieved by her death, but he is confused by it. She’d had a strong core; he’d felt the brunt of it several times. But she’d lived for her grandson, and had not grown sickly until her husband was gone. She had not seemed ashamed, to him—she seemed wronged.  

The maids had whispered of a wasting curse. Mo Xuanyu starts listening very carefully, whenever he can. Wherever he can.

Jin Guangyao ascends to the clan leadership, and soon after, with the staunch support of Lan Xichen, to the office of Chief Cultivator. He has less time for Mo Xuanyu, but more need of him to continue the work they’ve been doing.

“I have so many enemies, Xuanyu,” Jin Guangyao says. “The Jin clan must be strong and able to defend itself and to prevent harms before they happen. The work you do will make us better able to use our enemies’ crimes against them.”

Mo Xuanyu is not sure which crimes Jin Guangyao is talking about but is very afraid to ask.

He knows that as Chief Cultivator, Jin Guangyao has been working hard to bring the clans around to his watchtower idea. Mo Xuanyu thinks the watchtowers sound interesting, but the clans are not easily convinced.

Nie Huaisang has been visiting often, and he is someone Mo Xuanyu can ask such things of. 

“Ah, Xuanyu, a watchtower can be a great thing for detecting problems early, but the clans are worried that it will mean Jin spies everywhere. And people do not like change.” Nie Huaisang flutters an elaborately painted fan in front of his face. 

“Your fan,” Xuanyu says. “It’s so pretty.”

That gets the first smile he’s seen on Nie Huaisang’s face. 

“It is, isn’t it? So few people appreciate pretty things.” 

Mo Xuanyu looks up at Nie Huaisang and realizes, for the first time, that the fabrics of his robes, while in the relatively dull greens of the Nie clan, are exquisitely woven, shimmering with undertones of silver and gold. His hair is elaborately braided. His face is subtly painted; most people would not notice the makeup, but Xuanyu has been interested in it for several years now. 

He says, hesitantly, “I think if I expressed an interest in anything here that was not gold, they would throw me down the stairs. But I do enjoy beauty. I’m not entirely sure I enjoy all the gold.”

“It is a bit much, isn’t it?” Nie Huaisang says ruefully, looking around. “And they are not forgiving here, in Jinlintai, of boys who like pretty things, are they? The Lan are better about it. They love elegance, as long as it is quiet.”

“How is it in Qinghe?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

Nie Huaisang says, “Better, now,” but then looks sad. “Da-ge used to encourage my hobbies, but he knew he was dying and he thought I could not be strong and still have pretty things. But I don’t know. My first disciple and my second do most of the work. I have time to be pretty, still.”

He gives an aggressive flip of his fan, surprising a laugh out of Mo Xuanyu. 

Not long after that, Mo Xuanyu realizes there’s been a decrease of resentful energy below his feet. Su Minshan spends less time in Jinlintai, and his brother smiles more. 

Jin Guangyao takes him down in the bowels of the hill the clan stands on, and shows him a new workshop. “This will be your space from now on, to work on whatever you please. I would ask that you put your attention to learning and understanding about the materials in that crate. Please be careful, they are very old.”

“Not Wei Wuxian’s?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“They’re old Wen documents, and documents from the Xue clan,” Jin Guangyao says. “I’d be interested to hear what you make of them.”

What he makes of them is nothing good. He learns more than he ever wanted to about the creation of the original Yin device, the sword and the coin shield. There are parts of it that would not make sense to anyone who had not gone deep into Wei Wuxian’s meanderings about the Yinhufu, the Yin tiger amulet. 

He copies the notes that are not in code, but does not elaborate on the pieces he thinks he can avoid elaborating on. It’s too much power, Wei Wuxian’s notes alone had made that clear, but he now knows Wen Ruohan’s research as well. 

He recognizes his brother’s hand in many of the Wen documents. He knows his brother was in Qishan to kill Wen Ruohan, but few people talk anymore about what he did before. 

His brother is not angry about the notes he cannot elaborate on. More crates come. It is easier to forget to be afraid when he keeps busy.

A large selection of Wen notes are annotated, and he discovers several documents written in the same hand, authored by Wen Qing.

His brother trusts him enough to bring him into his own hidden chamber, to look at some of the remaining artifacts which are too volatile and valuable to risk transporting them. 

He doesn’t see Nie Huaisang again for a long time, because he’s spending so little time where anyone but the servants can find him. 

Nineteen

He is there when his little nephew dies. 

He sees Jin Guangyao flip from broken father to calculating clan leader so quickly that it frightens him, and it frightens him more when the murder is quickly pinned on a small clan that had disagreed with Jin Guangyao about the towers, and the small clan is obliterated. 

Mo Xuanyu is quick to see connections, and he can’t see how they could have done it. 

At nineteen years old, Mo Xuanyu spends most of his time hiding and watching and working, always working. There are no more meals with Qin Su and Jin Guangyao because Qin Su is barely eating and Jin Guangyao is always, always in meetings. 

He looks for signs of dissent. There have always been those who do not like Jin Guangyao because of his parentage. Those he dismisses. But he notices the flashes of hatred Bicao sends Jin Guangyao’s way when his back is turned, and asks her about it.

The answer—that his brother’s wife is his sister, that he knew before they married and married anyway, had Jin Rusong anyway… All Jin Guangyao’s concerned looks make sense, in context, but A-Song was a little boy, a sweet little boy who deserved to live. It breaks Mo Xuanyu.

He finds it hard to care about his reputation anymore. He finds a mask in the marketplace, grotesque, cheaply made, and wears it. It hides the makeup he wears, and the terror in his eyes.

He creeps through Jinlintai, not quite finding the answers he needs, and struggles with whether he should tell his sister-in-law, his sister-in-truth, about her own parentage. 

He thinks, but cannot prove, that his brother murdered his father. That his brother may have murdered his own son and then used that death to gain a political victory. 

He hides in closets and listens. He hears Su Minshan and Jin Guangyao discussing Chifeng-Zun’s uncontrollable fierce corpse, hears them decide to dismember it. 

He tries to get Qin Su to flee Jinlintai with him. He’s her brother, he doesn’t want her at Jin Guangyao’s mercy anymore, she’s too sweet, she doesn’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve any of it. 

He’s maybe not coherent enough to get the message across accurately. She doesn’t understand what he’s saying. She thinks he wants to run away with her romantically. “I’m your brother,” he keeps saying, but she doesn’t understand. 

And then Jin Guangyao walks into the room, drags him out, has him beaten senseless, and tells him, “I will not kill you for this, because you have, before this, done all I asked. But no one in the cultivation world will believe a word you say, because you have gone quite mad, harassing your sister-in-law this way. Go home to your mother. Do not come here again.”

They take his outer robes, his sword, the visible purse he wears and the qiankun pouch he wears at his waist. They push him down the stairs. 

Everything goes dark.

On the road

He comes to in the back of a cart on the road to Mo Village. His golden core is struggling to keep up with healing him, but he remembers the histories of the second battle of Nightless City, and he whistles soft, like the wind or the whine of the turning cart-wheels, drawing in scraps of resentment from around him, letting the resentment paste over the broken places and hold them together by sheer will. 

Once the resentment has numbed his injuries to a grumbling ache, he sits up, pushing a rough canvas dropcloth off of him. 

“You might as well go back to sleep, boy,” someone says from the front of the cart. “It’s another half day to Mo Village.”

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Well, normally I’m a merchant. But I was handed a large amount of money to get you out of town right now, no questions asked.”

“How much?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

The amount is not large compared to the purse he has tucked away in a qiankun pocket close to his skin in his trousers. Or the second purse in the qiankun seam of his inner robe. 

“If I give you double that, will you take me to Yiling, instead?” he rasps.

“I’m supposed to take you to your mother.”

“I can’t… I can’t face her. Please, he wants me away, and Yiling is farther. If I give you the money, you can’t tell anyone where you take me.”

“If I refuse it, I can do my job, tell him where you’re running to, and get a reward.”

By this point, Mo Xuanyu has worked his way up to a position where he can see that he’s in a fully laden cart, with one man ahead of it leading a sturdy horse at a plodding walk. He summons a talisman to his fingers, and then blows it like a kiss at the back of the man’s head, whispering, “Forget me. Take us to Yiling.” The talisman squirms under the man’s clothes at the nape of his neck and settles between his shoulder blades. 

Wei Wuxian described having invented this particular talisman at Cloud Recesses. He’s not sure about the forgetting part, so he clears his throat. 

The man nearly jumps out of his skin, whips around, says, “Who are you?” and then gets a strange, dazed look in his eyes, and continues walking the horse. 

A half a shichen later, he clears his throat again, and the same, exact thing happens. He giggles silently to himself when the man turns back to the road. 

He has to tell the man to stop and eat and rest, and to wait for further instruction, and sneaks off the back to buy some food for himself. He whispers to the man to take care of the horse and then continue the journey, and then falls asleep in the back of the wagon. 

The man’s steps are dragging when he wakes, and he whispers, “Stop.”

He tells the man to get into his own cart and rest. The guy blinks and then his eyes drift away and then he’s asleep. 

While he sleeps, Mo Xuanyu crafts a tiny, careful curse. He’s never actively cursed anyone before, but this…. The man was paid to do a job, but he doesn’t think much of someone who would move an injured man without questions. When he’s done, he’s sure that the man will not remember him, even if the curse is removed. He removes the commands he’s given, so that the man may proceed as he will once he wakes, leads the horse to a stream to drink, and loosely ties it where it can crop grasses along the side of the road until his owner wakes. 

He thinks again and puts a small ingot in the man’s curled hand. Let him wonder.

He pulls out one of his favorite talismans, a “don’t-look-here,” whispers to a glowing butterfly to lead him to Yiling, and starts to walk.

No one talks to him or interacts with him on the road. He finds a little shop selling robes and dresses and buys a dress “for my wife, she’s about the same height as me,” from a smiling old man who can barely see past his own fingertips. 

There’s an apothecary down the lane, who has the pigments and herbs and rice powder he wants, and says, “Show me how, so I can do it for her,” to the pretty girl behind the counter. She laughs and shows him. He leaves her with a tiny curse of forgetting, just enough to make sure that she won’t remember if anyone asks. 

He refreshes the don’t-look-here, sneaks into a mostly empty inn, puts on the dress, powders his face, puts up his hair into a married woman’s bun, sneaks back out again, powers down the talisman, and rents a room and a bath.

The serving girl who brings his bath says, “If you want to hide the bruises better, let me do your makeup in the morning!”

Mo Xuanyu breathes in sharply, and says in his softest, highest voice, “Oh! Can you teach me?”

“Better to get rid of the man than keep powdering bruises. Did he hit you?”

“Threw me down the stairs,” Mo Xuanyu says softly. “I’m not going back. Please, if they ask about me, please don’t tell them you saw me?”

“I’m as silent as a Lan,” she says. “Who-furen?”

Mo Xuanyu giggles. “Thank you.”

“Do you need help with your bath?” the girl asks.

“Oh, oh, no, please, I don’t want anyone to look at me,” Mo Xuanyu says, voice cracking a little. “I can handle the bath, I prefer privacy for that.”

“I can bring up your dinner in a bit,” the girl says. “Jiejie will take care of you so you don’t have to be down with the rowdy regulars.”

“Thank you, Jiejie.” Mo Xuanyu says, his voice catching at the easy kindness. He can’t remember the last time someone was so kind to him, for no reason other than that he seemed vulnerable. 

He sleeps more soundly than he can ever remember sleeping, wakes, bathes, dresses, plucks the few beard hairs he can feel and greets the girl, who has only ever told him to call her Jiejie, when she brings his breakfast in. 

“You eat, I’ll get things ready,” she says, pouring tea and setting his food in front of them. 

He eats, watching carefully as she looks over what he has and then pulls a little pot of salve. 

“My popo makes this. She used to be a rogue cultivator, so she infuses it with herbs and then spiritual energy. It will help the bruises heal up fast. You can use it wherever your skin is damaged.”

He nods. 

She goes over everything she has, explains how to use them, and then when he’s done eating, paints his face. There is a small, worn mirror on the wall, distorted, but he can see that it’s better.

When she’s finished, she smiles and says, “Ah, such a pretty meimei you make, Furen. You have someplace safe to go?”

Mo Xuanyu nods. 

“Safe way to get there?”

He nods again. The don’t-look-here works well on anyone who isn’t actively looking for him, and not getting followed is the biggest part of not getting caught.

She hands him a packed lunch, and he presses more money than would be expected into her hands and leaves before she can object.

Burial Mounds

It takes days of walking slowly enough to heal to get to Yiling. His core grows a little stronger with the work of healing his body, the resentment sliding away as the tissues heal. He experiments as he walks with balancing the two energies, resentment the bandage, spiritual energy the repair. 

He wears the makeup, the dress. They’re comfortable, and a better mask than the grotesque one he’d worn at Lanling. It isn’t as big a deal as he’d feared. 

In Yiling, he plays a young widow, quiet, unassuming, as he buys a large basket, slips a qiankun pouch inside, and then buys enough food and tea to keep him from starving for a while, tucking them into the pouch inside the basket, which never gets full or heavy. He buys several blankets, ducks into an alley, and then reestablishes the don’t-look-here. 

He follows a mental map to the Burial Mounds, dizi at the ready. 

There is a little shrine at the foot of the path, with a few flowers and grave offerings. Pieces of fruit. An incense burner with ash next to it that has not had a chance to be washed away by rain. A little box of startlingly expensive incense, stamped with the symbol of Gusu Lan sits next to it, and he lights a stick. 

He walks up the path, wary, watching.

He’d expected clouds of billowing, seething resentment. Maybe screaming.

But the place feels… oh, there’s resentful energy here, he can feel the places where corpses might be coaxed out of the ground, but it feels more sad and tired than anything. It is a place of old grief, worn despair. It’s a familiar feeling. For all the Burial Mounds’ reputation as inescapable and deadly, there’s a frustration in the resentment, a certain powerlessness. 

He follows the path to the tumbled wardstones, and spends a shichen examining them. There are old Jiang wards, Wen wards, and several he’s absolutely certain were invented by Wei Wuxian himself. He considers trying to lift the stones back into place, then looks around and decides against it. 

Their power is gone. He passes unhindered, and follows the widest path up the hill.

The old Wen settlement is in tatters. Angry people have torn it apart. He wonders at it, as it is not nearly so large as to have contained an army. Perhaps the forest has reclaimed part of it? Not that Wei Wuxian had ever described such a thing…

The sign above the cave is hanging at a strange angle, but the doors are ajar, so he makes his way inside the cave. 

A talisman bathes the space in gentle light, but the room is only dusty, with the kind of grime that accumulates through open doors over the course of a decade or more of neglect. There are no papers to be seen in the central area, though there’s an elaborate array on the floor.

Examining the array is both intellectually fascinating and reassuring. There are a few little breaks, but nothing he can’t fix easily, and it’s a strong protection against anything coming in while he sleeps. He repairs it, and then goes back to bar the door. 

It fights him a little, but he gets it closed and barred, and then takes stock.

There is a bed platform, the bedding long since rotted away. He clears it, finds an old, old broom in a corner, and uses that to sweep the platform clean. He spreads out the blankets he bought, and then lays out everything he has, from all his pockets and pouches. 

The food will keep best in a qiankun pouch. He’s noticed that hot food put into a pouch will still be hot when taken out even a day later. Does time pass at all in the pouch? He thinks not. 

He has the clothes he was thrown out in, and the women’s clothing he’s wearing now, and that’s basically it. He folds the gown and tucks it away. 

He has his personal notes, the ones he never wanted to share with his brother, the ones he’s written in code, in an invisible ink of his own devising, where diagrams might be needed. 

He has a fair stock of talisman papers and talismans, an ink stone, ink sticks and brush in a case, note paper. 

There are enough gold and silver ingots to feed him for a long time if he’s careful. 

He sleeps.

When he wakes, he explores the cave itself. There are several cave-ins at the back. He thinks that some are newer than others, but this was once a palace built into the mountain, and now it is one large room, several alcoves, and places where it was probably possible, once upon a time, to go deeper into the mountain.

There is little in the main space. Behind the fallen statue whose mouth opens onto the unsettlingly dark pool, he finds some old clothing, and he brings it out to the brighter area near the bed.

He scribbles a quick cleaning talisman and applies it to each of the garments. A child’s under-tunic and robe. A black over-robe, the silk still intact, expensive, once, cultivation embroidery stitched into the seams and hems, protections. It is a bit longer than he would prefer, but a belt could fix that… it will hide him better. He murmurs, “Duibuqi, xiexie ni,” and puts the robe on. A hair ribbon falls out, deep red. He fingers it, and then winds it in his hair. 

Something changes in the atmosphere around him, a shift of mood, almost, a lightening, an anticipation. 

He continues searching, a bright talisman clasped in his hand, bleeding light between his fingers. He is methodical, and he finds a small stack of notes tucked deep into a crevice. They seem to have been shoved there, as if to get them out of sight, and when he reads them, he thinks he knows why. These are the dangerous things, the concepts that could be catastrophic in the wrong hands. He thinks perhaps Wei Wuxian was trying to keep them out of his own hands, too. The temptation… 

There is a note at the bottom of the sacrifice summon pages, a scrawl, really. “Who could I possibly inflict myself upon this way? Yu-furen? Jiang-shushu? Too many dead, and I must stay.”

He spends a month making a new, better dizi out of black bamboo and practicing the Empathy technique with the surrounding spirits. There are few coherent enough to be helpful, and one scolds him for doing this, because so many could take advantage, take over his body. 

That one is the most useful. They don’t remember who they were, though he gets a sense that it has been many years since their death, and they answer the question of why the Burial Mounds are so quiet.

“He took many of us into the Yinhufu, took us with him to Nightless City, but before that, his people calmed this place by being respectful, by growing things, by bringing joy into this place that had none. He played for us every day, soothing things. Such a good boy. And the people in the town now offer respect to us, shrine offerings, incense. There was a little boy…”

The spirit withdraws. 

Mo Xuanyu begins playing the dizi every night. They all tell him what they remember of their stories.

He goes down into the town every now and then, dressed as a woman, leaving his don’t-look-here active until he’s in town, so they will not associate him with the Burial Mounds. He buys food, takes a meal in the wine house, listens to the gossip. He’s running low on paper, so he buys more, and another ink stick on one trip. Tea on another.

It has been a few months since he was thrown out of Jinlintai when he notices a sharp undercurrent in the crowd murmur in Yiling. When he takes his lunch at the wine house, halfway through his meal, a clan leader walks into the place. 

Mo Xuanyu sees Jiang Wanyin, who knows him well, and quietly reactivates his don’t-look-here. 

It works.

Jiang Wanyin sits down with his back to Mo Xuanyu, at the middle table, and orders tea and a meal in a curt voice, eyes fixed on the door. He has four men with him, and one of them asks the waiter if anyone’s heard of any demonic cultivators in the area. 

The waiter says, “We often see three or four people per week pretending to be the Yiling Laozu, but they’re all grifters, you know? Talismans don’t work, that kind of thing. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

Jiang Wanyin sighs, and slips something into the waiter’s hands.

“Now someone did say they heard music on the wind the other day.”

Another patron says, “I heard someone saw the shadow of the Yiling Laozu’s ghost up on the mountain!”

“There’s plenty of ghosts up there, but Hanguang-Jun said none of them were the Yiling Laozu.”

Mo Xuanyu freezes. Is it possible to see the mountain from the town that way? Why didn’t he check?

A flap of fabric and a small gust of wind are all the warning they get of a cultivator landing from his sword outside. 

A Lan walks in a moment later. He looks so much like Lan Xichen, and Mo Xuanyu is terrified because Lan Xichen, here, might be looking for him, and if he’s looking for Mo Xuanyu here, he might well see through the talisman, but the echoing polite “Hanguang-Jun!” tells the story.

Mo Xuanyu has not met Hanguang-Jun before, though he knows Lan Xichen very well. 

Hanguang-Jun sees Jiang Wanyin and then sits with his back to him at a different table. 

Mo Xuanyu has never seen one of the gentry fail to acknowledge a major clan leader before. Not even the ones who hated his brother would refuse to bow. There had been no change of expression on Hanguang-Jun’s face, either, as if he’d glanced over a space of empty air. 

“So it’s like that, still?” Jiang-zongzhu says with a snarl. “You can pretend I don’t exist all you like, but if he’s there, I’ll find him.”

Hanguang-Jun says nothing in response, but orders tea. 

Mo Xuanyu flees, walking out, then running as soon as he’s clear.

He runs up the path, drawing in resentful energy as he goes to keep himself from falling, and dives into the cave, where he shoves everything he owns and the notes, everything but the child’s clothes, into qiankun bags, into his clothing. He stays in the dress, and asks the spirits where one could hide. 

Flee, flee… They have all gone to Nightless City. Fly away, we will protect him, we will hide him, we’ll keep him safe until until until… 

“Can you carry me out of here?” he asks. “Carry me so I don’t leave tracks? Make this place look unused? Delay them?”

A fair trade for the music…

“The music was a gift,” he says, but his feet leave the ground, and there is a rushing darkness, and he is carried on the wind, north and away.

Home of the Wen

When the rushing darkness stops, Mo Xuanyu finds himself deposited gently at the foot of a volcano. One of the spirits lingers, while the others melt away, back to the Burial Mounds or finally put to rest, he isn’t sure. 

The one who lingers whispers to him, If there are spirits here, and they are ours, they will like it if you wear his clothes.

He feels the words, more than hears them. He nods, moves off the road, and changes quickly.

He lets his hair fall out of the bun, then ties half up with the red ribbon. And then he walks up the road to Nightless City.

It is so quiet here. There’s wind, but even the animals are quiet, if birds can live here. There is a hot smell on the breeze, slightly sulfurous, though the air feels cool.

The city is the emptiest place he’s ever been. There are few spirits here, and no people at all. 

He follows the road through the large gates, and climbs up to the grand receiving ground. 

“Do you know where he died?” he asks the spirit.

No.

He moves up to the steps of the palace, brings out his dizi, and begins to play a calling, quiet tune. With demonic cultivation, intent means more than intonation, but he makes it a calm, peaceful, low sort of music, and thinks about his desire for answers, of all the questions he has to ask. 

He feels a few spirits come, feels them listening, then opens his eyes.

They have little substance, but they are letting him see them, and they are beckoning. 

They lead him down a treacherous path, away from the battle, across a cooled lava field, up a rocky slope, and then to a meadow. 

One of the spirits comes to him, tips its blurry head to one side, and then taps him on the forehead. He blinks, and suddenly he can see them much more clearly. 

There is a small ring of ghosts in the middle of the field. They are all watching something happen in the middle of the ring. 

The spirit in front of him, a young woman in red robes, mouths, Come.

He follows.

Two of the ghosts step apart for him, though he’s fairly certain he could just walk through them, and he sees, in the middle, a young woman in mourning clothes, with wounds on her back, bending, picking something up, and pressing it gently to her chest. Then she turns, and he sees there’s another wound in her chest as well. She clutches a small swarm of glowing light to her bosom, looks at him, starts to reach toward him.

Then something like disappointment crosses her face, and she shakes her head, and returns to her work, searching for something. She moves away from him, and as she moves, the ring of spirits follows her, until she bends, picks something up, and presses it into the light in her other hand. 

“What are you doing? What is she doing?”

The wind blows in small, swirling eddies, and then his spirit, the one who brought him this far, says to him, She is gathering together the pieces of her brother’s soul.

The young woman in the red robes cocks her head and another little gust of wind blows, and then the spirit who came with him says, I can speak to you because you’ve known my soul through Empathy. These are my people. I died before they did, soon after we fled Qiongqi Dao. None of them will possess you.

The young woman who greeted him was Wen Qing when she lived, he discovers, through Empathy. 

He sees her struggle with her choices, sees her ask for help, sees it given beyond all measure, sees her sacrifice, sees her spirit stay with her brother until she finally cannot not bear it, sees her spirit flee to find the ghosts of her family, sees her end up here, guarding, with her family, the spirit of the last person who loved the man they both considered a brother. 

When he opens his eyes, he asks, “What is she doing?”

Jiang Yanli’s spirit is looking for the tiny, scattered pieces of Wei Wuxian’s spiritual cognition. She has been collecting them since her death, bringing them together, so that one day she can unite them and allow his soul and hers to rejoin the cycle.

It has been eight years. It will likely be at least four or five more before she is finished. Wen Qing has been keeping track. Jiang Yanli has not. Her spirit is so fixated on the task that she ignores almost everything else.

“When she looked at you, I think it was the first time I’d ever seen her look up since I arrived here,” Wen Qing whispers at him, her voice more substantial, somehow, than the other spirits. “You look a bit like him, dressed in his clothes.”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened, back then. I think it might have been my family’s fault. I want to make amends…”

“No one person caused this, and it is too much for one person to make amends for,” Wen Qing says. 

“He wrote of a time travel talisman,” Mo Xuanyu says. “All I have are the notes, he did not leave an example. I was hoping to find his spirit to get more information.”

At that, all the spirits turn to him, including Jiang Yanli. She hands the precious ball of spirit fragments to Wen Qing, and extends her hands to Mo Xuanyu. 

He is tired, so tired. The spirit who traveled with him raises a sharp breeze and a fuss, and Jiang Yanli sighs, takes back the mass of soul, and returns to her work. 

Wen Qing says, “You must rest first. I will show you a place you can go.”

And she leads him away, down a path, up a hill, through a small cave and then up a steep climbing track. When he starts to flag, she touches him, and he feels an energy move through him, and then it’s a little easier.

They climb. Eventually they come to a building, a siheyuan so covered by huge trees that he suspects that despite the size of the traditional house, it is not visible from the air. A tree even grows from the large courtyard; in one place, a wall has fallen from the push of roots. But most of it is intact. 

She leads him to one of the private quarters. When he opens the door, the air is stale and there is dust but it is otherwise very neat and tidy. 

“My brother’s room, when we were here before. It was a place he liked to come, and it has not been touched significantly in over a decade.”

He absently brings out a talisman, powers it, and the dust shivers and then collects into a little eddy in the center of the room, and then follows his gesture out the door, where it disperses.

“Handy,” she says.

“Burial Mounds was dusty,” he says, looking around the room at the dark wood, the old red tapestries. “Why did people react that way when I mentioned the time travel talisman?”

“I wasn’t here for it,” she says, “but they say that when Wei Wuxian died, as he was falling, he tried to use just such a talisman. It didn’t work—I don’t know why—but it scattered his soul across several li, like grains of sand. Yanli has been trying to put it back together ever since.”

“Your spirit, hers, you both should have had soul calming as babies, why…”

She sighs, and looks more translucent than ever. “There is no soul calming strong enough to counteract what we all went through. I was desperate to stay with my brother, but he… he is still there, in Jinlintai, and I…” 

There is a wan wail around her, though her mouth does not make it, just the noise of a soul in pain. 

“Still? His body?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“They… he’s not… He’s not exactly dead, but they blocked his spiritual cognition. Even I can’t reach him. The only one who could… well, Yanli is picking up the pieces as we speak. Do you have food?”

He blinks at the non sequitur. “I… yes, some. I was stocking up when… I had to run. I begged the spirits to get me out of there. They brought me here.”

“They liked you, then.” 

“Oh, I… I played music for them, and listened to them. They seemed to like it.”

“If I was alive I’d check your meridians. You look like you’ve been letting resentful energy patch you back together too much.” She peers down at him, obviously frustrated. 

“They threw me down the stairs of Jinlintai. I don’t have a very strong core, but I knew that he… that Wei Wuxian had used resentful energy for healing, and experimented with it on the way here.”

“He didn’t… it didn’t heal him, it just kept him from bleeding out.”

“It makes a decent bandage. I let my core do the actual healing.”

Her expression changes, but he can’t quite read it. She turns away, and says, “Rest here. You’ll be safe. We don’t sleep, one of us will wake you if there’s danger. But you are the first person in this place since Wen Ruohan died, besides me.”

“Can… I’d like to stay for a while, if you don’t mind. If Lanling finds me, they’ll send me home, and I can’t… I won’t…”

She looks at him as he sits down on the bed platform, and says, “I felt that way about this place, once upon a time, that it was a home of sorts, but not my home, and that I could never go back to the people who treated my brother so badly. None of us could stop you even if we wanted to, but if you are respectful and allow Yanli her work, I don’t think anyone will mind. You remind us of him.”

“The Yiling Laozu?” he asks.

“Wei Wuxian,” she answers. “He was very kind.”

“Oh!” he says. “I… thank you?”

“Sleep,” she replies. “It was a compliment.”

In the morning, he rises, he eats, she shows him where water can be pumped up for a bath, and he feels truly clean for the first time in ages. Cleaning the various garments is no trouble, but bodies don’t respond to cleaning talismans in a comfortable way. 

He has long had a habit of keeping everything he doesn’t want to lose on his person at all times. That doesn’t change now. Once he’s dressed, he makes his way back down to the field where Yanli works. 

“There must be so many pieces,” he says to Wen Qing.

She nods. “The fact that they don’t disperse is a miracle. But imagine setting a firecracker off in a pan of powdered salt, and then trying to find every bit of the powder, one piece at a time.”

“I wonder what went wrong?” he muses.

“You could ask her. She knew he was scattered, she might know how. We can’t even see the pieces, or we’d be helping, rather than guarding.” She gestures at where Yanli is searching. 

“Will you help me get her attention?” he asks. 

Wen Qing nods, and drifts over to Jiang Yanli. It takes a moment, but then Wen Qing holds out her cupped hands and accepts Yanli’s burden.

Jiang Yanli’s form is less bloody this morning. She is still paler than death and cloaked in white, but the gaping wounds are just spots, and she tips her head and holds out her hands. 

He comes close, and sits down before her, and she kneels, taking his hands. 

Jiang Yanli's Memories

She takes him back to her childhood, first. She shows him Lotus Pier, and her parents, and her brother, and then a little boy, so thin, so alone, and he feels her heart embrace that child completely. She shows him his own brother, Jin Zixuan, who he never, ever knew, and his early rough manners, but then skips forward in hops through all of them growing up.

He feels her watching her brothers struggle against her mother’s rage. He sees it all, the fear when she was sent away, every time she was sent away, until she couldn’t find her way back to either of them, not really. 

He sees Lanling Jin from a young woman’s perspective, and thinks his father really should have died sooner. She was protected from his direct assault, but all the other women she met had stories, near misses and not-misses. 

He sees his own brother change and love her. He sees her brothers change, feels her desperate worry for them both. Feels the confusing mix of love for her husband and increasing loathing of Jinlintai. There, he whispers, “It wasn’t just you.”

And she whispers back, I know.

The worst comes, when her brother doesn’t and her husband is dead and she knows her brother came to see her and she knows they’re going to kill him and she flees, she runs, she goes as fast as she can, stumbling to Nightless City—still weak from giving birth and her sitting-in month—and grieving and she’s bleeding still even before she started running. A feeling of inevitability, somehow she was always going to die this night, with so much of her heart gone… 

She can’t find him, she can’t, and then there is pain, and he’s there, and she finally can tell him, can save him… 

She takes the blow, but she’s not… she’s not DONE, she still needs to show him. 

She dies just before dawn, and as the sky lightens and the oppressive dark lifts, her soul follows him, as if she might pull him back from the cliff, as if she could make him keep breathing when she knows he no longer wants to, and she follows him off the cliff, as he hangs there, as she wishes she could push him back up into Lan-er-gongzi’s arms, anything but this… She died to save him, and for what?

Her didi stabs the sword into the cliff, and A-Xian wrenches free, and falls, and she sees his hand reach for a talisman, hold it out…

STOP. Mo Xuanyu says, and the scene freezes. He stares at the talisman, memorizing every line, every curve. Then he realizes there’s blood, spatter, streaked, from the cut on Lan Wangji’s arm, from Wei Wuxian’s own blood. Much of the talisman is written in cinnabar, in the stylized cursive runes he favors, but the marks in blood… Wei Wuxian’s notes talked about reversing talismans and changing the meaning of existing talismans by adding blood radicals, and everyone knows that if you distort an array or add blood to it, you’re likely to get an unexpected or undesired result. 

It should say “separate.” 

It looks more like “disperse.”

“I might be able to save him,” he tells her. “I might be able to save you all. It will take some time, and it might not work, but I promise you I’ll try.”

The scene shifts, and she shows him the act of feeding her little brothers soup, watching their tears dry. She takes a bite, herself, and he can taste it, feel it, the entire experience of it. She shows him how she made it, the slow cooking of the broth, the whisper infusion of her own spiritual energy, weak as her core was, but enough for this. He understands; it is as much as if she’d said, outright, “I wish I could make soup for you,” recognizing him as another little brother in need of warmth. 

When he surfaces, he is weeping, but he finds his ink, his brush, the little vial of water for wetting the stone, paper, and he doesn’t move until he’s sketched the whole talisman, both as it was, and as it should have been.

“He wasn’t done with it,” Wen Qing says. “It wasn’t ready.”

“No,” he says. “But I know where it went wrong, and I have ideas of how to make it safer. I will not use such a thing until I understand it fully, because if I don’t succeed, no one else possibly can.”

The outskirts of Nightless City

He stays. Wen Qing has more ability to move as she wills than most spirits ever can, and she teaches him to heal his own hurts more completely. She shows him where some of her books are. She shows him where a flock of chickens have gone wild, and he can add eggs to his diet. Leads him to an orchard. It’s all overgrown, but the exercise and work help his body grow stronger. There is a startling lack of resentful energy in the area, which confuses him, and she laughs and tells him that Hanguang-Jun cleared the area three years after Nightless City, not putting spirits to rest forcefully, but cleansing the resentment that was festering. 

“I told him to stop playing Inquiry, because his hands were bleeding,” she says one day, while he is picking a basket of berries. “Then I left before he could ask me who I was. He was looking for Wei Wuxian, too.”

“To exorcise him?”

“I doubt it. I think he just missed him. He was so sad. Wei Wuxian adored him.”

“Were they cutsleeves?”

She laughs. “If so, I don’t think they ever acted on it. Wei Wuxian called him zhiji.”

“Hanguang-Jun has a son, you know. No wife, just a son. I heard that he acted like a widower for years. Zewu-Jun is very proud of his nephew.” 

“Surprising,” she says, and then frowns. “How old?”

He blinks. “Oh, I’m not exactly sure. I never met him, but Zewu-Jun told me not long after I arrived at Lanling, oh, a year or so after your death, that his nephew had learned to read well, not even six years old, and was already learning to play the guqin. I was fourteen, so, six years ago, he must be twelve-ish now?”

She is silent for a long time. Finally she said, “There was a child among us, at the Burial Mounds. A cousin, we shared a grandmother. He came with us, towards Lanling, but then he disappeared on the trek. A-Ning was going to go back for him, but Popo said, where we were going, that it would be safer for him to be out in the world, that maybe someone would help him. He was… He was so good at getting people to love him.”

“The spirits at the Burial Mounds told me he brought them joy, that listening to his laughter cleared resentment away. I asked once, about him, and they said he’d gone, and then come back alone, that the light one carried him away.”

Her spirit trembles, goes wobbly, vanishes for a moment and then re-solidifies on the other side of him. “He went home to find his Xian-gege. And Hanguang-Jun found him there.”

“There’s one here we could ask.”

“I just did,” she says. “She told me… if any one of us could have survived all that, I’m glad it was him. Come with me, come please.”

He follows her down to the hillside where Jiang Yanli is searching, and he feels the breezes stir and swirl and several of the spirits there come and beg for him to tell them about the boy.

Hanguang-Jun never once brought his son to Jinlintai, so he has never met the child, but Zewu-Jun wasn’t shy about his affection for his only nephew. Mo Xuanyu talks for a long time.

“He’s a strong cultivator,” Mo Xuanyu tells them. “His bofu thinks he will be one of the strongest cultivators of his generation, and the kindest. He’s the second clan heir for Gusu Lan, after Hanguang-Jun himself.”

Popo comes forward, places a cool blessing on his brow, swirls a breeze around them all, and lets herself finally move on. 

“She was so worried for him,” Wen Qing says. “You put her heart to rest.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“No, don’t be. We’ve all been so set in our pain for so long that we cannot begrudge her rejoining the cycle now that she knows he is safe, and loved, and respected. And who knows, if somehow you are successful where Wei Wuxian was not, perhaps she will have a different life. I hope so.”

“What would you change?” he asks. 

“I want to say that if I knew how it would all come out, I would kill Wen Ruohan and Wen Zhuliu in their sleep, but honestly, it would be easier to list the things I wouldn’t want to change. It’s shorter. I’d have gotten A-Ning and my family out of harm’s way much sooner. But I never did kill anyone directly. In retrospect, I think more people died because I didn’t.” 

“What do you wish you’d known then that you know now?” he asks.

“I wish I’d known that Wen Ruohan was going to lose. That he wouldn’t protect us. That Wei Wuxian would. I would have… I wouldn’t have… There’s so much that could have been averted if I’d been willing to sacrifice myself sooner.”

“Hey, that’s not… you shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself at all!”

“Do you know how far back you would need to go to really change things? Maybe you go back eight years, tell him not to go to Jinlintai. Does he listen? I don’t know. He doesn’t know who you are other than someone who looks like a Jin, a kid, at that. You can’t be that old.”

“I’m nineteen. Wait, no, twenty,” he says, suddenly realizing a birthday had gone unremarked in the Burial Mounds. 

“Right, so how are you going to persuade him at age twelve that you know what will happen? Clan leaders don’t make twelve-year-olds aware of their nefarious deeds.” She is pacing now, drifting back and forth across the room in agitation.

“Or you go back farther, to when we arrived, what, ten years ago. You’re ten. Half my family is already dead. Wei Wuxian is already… and Sunshot happened, and my people are being abused, and little A-Yuan is just a toddler, starving with them at Qiongqi Dao.”

“How young do you think you can be and still retain as much as you need? If you go back too far, A-Yuan will not have been conceived. Will you stop him from existing?”

“When was he born?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“I think you must have been six when he was conceived. Seven when he was born. How can a seven-year-old change anything?”

“Maybe I’ll go back as an adult,” he says. 

“Wei Wuxian did not think that was possible.”

“Why didn’t he try it, back then, before the end?” he asks.

“Tell me what the talisman does, exactly,” she demands.

He looks over his sketches. “Here, it separates… the spiritual cognition from the physical body. But that would take an enormous amount of energy, at least done this way, unless…”

“Unless the spiritual cognition was ready to separate anyway.”

“At the moment of death,” he says, understanding, suddenly. “This indicates… time, and how much of it. He wanted to go back about five years, I think. So… that would have been thirteen years ago.”

“Cloud Recesses,” she says. “He would have been in a mostly adult body with a core almost as strong as he ever had it. He probably would have gone after Wen Ruohan. It might have worked, if the talisman hadn’t been stained.”

“This here is for memory, and that is for connection, and those… I think this separates spiritual cognition, retains memory, and sends the spirit back into the younger self. And this allows activation with blood and intent, not spiritual power? Why…”

She sighs, hesitates a long moment, and then says, “He said that a cultivator never knew when their power would be completely drained, and the chances that such a talisman would need to be used when spiritual power was gone were high. Hadn’t you noticed that everything he developed in the Burial Mounds did not rely at all on having spiritual energy?”

Mo Xuanyu quickly sorts through his notes, and then stares at her. “He cared that much about non-cultivators?”

She nods. “He always cared. He was an orphan on the streets very young. He always remembered how the weak were treated. Making new toys for cultivators was nowhere near as useful as making things regular people could use. Most of my family were not cultivators. A-Yuan’s parents. Me. My brother, but his core was as weak as yours.”

On many days, they talk about the past, about what she knows of the timeline. He does Empathy with all of the Dafan Wen who want it, he lures the flock of chickens closer to where he’s staying, he explores the city and the palaces. She shows him some of the vaults the Jin did not find, the libraries that got missed. 

No one pushes him to try the time travel talisman. He will, he will, but first he needs to understand.

He studies the notes he found at the Burial Mounds, Sacrifice Summon, Time Travel. The Yinhufu. 

His memory is almost as good as his brother’s, not perfect, but once he understands a thing, he can’t forget it. He recreates Wei Wuxian’s notes that he’d left behind in Jinlintai. 

The older notes are making more sense, the more he looks at these missing pieces.

Then he realizes that the time travel theories dovetail with the qiankun pouch theories, and remembers the missing parts of the treatise back at Lanling, and wonders if someone excised it as too dangerous. If it was him, he’d excise it as too dangerous. The idea that twisting space might have a lot in common with twisting time makes an uncomfortable amount of sense. 

Sometimes Wen Qing goes back to Jinlintai, to check on her brother, who is still in a prison cell, chained, still mercifully insensate, and she looks into Mo Xuanyu’s old study, where she finds Jin Guangyao reading his notes. She’ll point out to Mo Xuanyu what he’s missed, later. 

When Jin Guangyao leaves, she rifles the notes and stirs the wind to disrupt them, just to make him afraid when he returns.

“What’s the point in being a ghost,” she tells Mo Xuanyu, “if I can’t haunt an asshole?”

Leaving Nightless City

Nightless City is his, and the ghosts’, and very quiet, and he is there for almost two years before anyone shows up.

One day when Mo Xuanyu is almost twenty-two years old, Sishu’s spirit, the fourth uncle of the Wen, rushes with a gust of wind into the lodge saying, “There’s someone here! A clan leader!”

“Which one?” Wen Qing asks. “How many men?”

“He left several men below the city, came up to the middle of the plaza and called, out, ‘If anyone has seen my brother’s body walking around, could you please come show me where it is?’”

“Not Lan, or they would have asked with music,” Wen Qing says. “And the brothers are both alive.”

“Jiang Wanyin wouldn’t ask politely, and Jin Guangyao wouldn’t ask at all,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Do you think you can tell Nie-zongzhu to wait?”

“You’re assuming it isn’t one of the smaller clans?” Wen Qing asks.

“Does he have a fan?” Mo Xuanyu asks, gathering his things. 

“Yes!” Sishu says, and then disappears.

“You trust him?” Wen Qing asks.

“I think we have an enemy in common,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I think he, of all people, will not tell my brother where I am. I could use his thoughts on what we’ve been discussing. I… we were friends. I’ve missed him.”

“I can’t stop you,” she says. “I hope you’re right.”

Nie Huaisang is sitting on the plaza steps when Mo Xuanyu finds him.

“Huaisang,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Nie Huaisang glances up and then for the first time in their acquaintance, visibly startles. “A-Yu! He said… I thought… You’re here? You look… That’s certainly a look.”

Mo Xuanyu glances down at his borrowed robe, smiles a little ruefully, and says, “After they took away my Jin raiment, threw me down the stairs and carted me off toward home, my options were limited. I didn’t want to return to my aunt’s house.”

“I looked for you there, when Jin Guangyao said he’d sent you there, you know. I think he thinks you’re still there.”

“I may have confused the person taking me there into forgetting I existed,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Oooo, tell me more,” Nie Huaisang says, looking expectant. Then he frowns, “But first, why here?”

“Why are you here? No one comes here. I’m here because no one comes here,” Mo Xuanyu retorts.

“Oh, that. Um… Da-ge’s body, er, isn’t where we put it. Baxia grew so upset that we had to spirit trap her to keep her from, well, she was making trouble. I figured there were two things that Da-ge’s corpse would rise to fight, and those were Wens and Jin Guangyao, and so I decided to rule out Nightless City just on the off chance that it would be an easier problem than if Jin Guangyao stole him.”

“He did,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I heard him talking… he definitely did. I was so afraid, I wasn’t talking to anyone, I’m sorry.” He blinks. “You know it’s just now occurring to me that it’s really weird that he taught me demonic cultivation? Like, I was what, fifteen? Sixteen? And they were teaching me to raise corpses.” 

Nie Huaisang is staring at him, aghast. He gathers himself and then says, “Tell me more,” his voice suddenly flat and competent and extremely serious.

“Are you going to tell anyone about me?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Who would I tell? Jiang Wanyin would kill you. I wouldn’t help Jin Guangyao across the road unless there was a trap on the other side. Lan Xichen, bless him, there’s not a better soul anywhere, but he can’t lie or keep a secret to save his life. I’m a clan leader. Exposing you doesn’t help me and it doesn’t help you.”

“Your guard, will they worry if you’re gone for a long time? Do you trust them?”

“They are the only ones I trust,” Nie Huaisang says. “They know I plan to be here for the day.”

“Right. Then follow me.”

He leads Nie Huaisang to the place Wei Wuxian fell, and says, “You know this is where the Yiling Laozu died.”

“He was Wei-xiong to me,” Nie Huaisang says. “I miss him. He was a friend. I never believed a tenth of what they said about him.”

“Wei Wuxian’s body was never found, and they didn’t know why,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“But you know? Weren’t you like, twelve when it happened?” Nie Huaisang sounds more intrigued than disbelieving.

“I saw it from Jiang Yanli’s perspective,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“She died before he fell.” Huaisang looks confused.

“She wanted to save him. Her spirit is rather fixated on it, still. She’s out there, carefully picking up tiny fragments of spiritual cognition. Someday, years from now, she might succeed in patching it back together, one grain at a time. She’s been working on it since the day he died. She thinks there’s at least half as much out there to do as she’s already done.”

“Wo de tian,” Nie Huaisang breathes. “You found Yanli and performed Empathy?”

“When he fell, he activated a talisman. She got a very close look at it, because she was following his body down. He was trying… He was trying to travel in time. There was blood—Hanguang-Jun was bleeding—it changed the radicals enough that the spell… What did they find at the base of the cliff?”

“His dizi. Nothing else, as far as I know.”

Mo Xuanyu says, “You know his handwriting was very fluid?”

“Very fast, but with a certain casual elegance, yes.”

“’Separate’ managed to become ‘disperse’, and there were a few other unexpected effects, as well. He did not travel in time. His soul crumbled and spread like ash over a wide distance, but the pieces have been persistent. Normally a soul damaged that way would dissipate. But his has not. So, he may have invented time travel, but he didn’t make it work.”

“So if you know what went wrong, do you know how to fix it?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“I can make an educated guess, but the consequences of a mistake… successfully going into the past would end the timeline we’re in, I believe. It is a huge responsibility. And potentially fatal whether or not you succeed. It is literally a last resort.” Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. “I’ve been studying it. I have as much time as I need to really understand it—going back now or ten years from now, it shouldn’t make a difference. This talisman will only work on someone who is about to die. The timing is potentially tricky. I have some ideas about it, but how could we possibly test it?”

“I don’t know, you could send a chicken into the past, to this moment, and that might…”

For a moment, they both look around, as if expecting a squawk.

Mo Xuanyu snorts. “If I’m right, the chicken will go into its earlier body, it won’t fall out of the sky right here. How can you get a chicken to tell you it time traveled? Would it even know the difference?”

“If you tied a note around… wait, no, does a chicken even have a spiritual cognition?”

“The note won’t travel.” Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. “If it was easy, I would already have done it. I think that it’s ultimately going to require a leap of faith.”

“How far back do you think you could go?” Nie Huaisang asks. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to go younger than seven, in any event. Little kids are watched too closely. For me, age ten would be ideal in terms of ability to get around and function. But if I have it memorized, I will be able to draw the talisman again. So I could go back more than once.”

“Every time you go back, the future being erased means you can’t then go forward, doesn’t it,” Nie Huaisang says.

“And I’ll be the only one who can remember the things that need to be changed. But I’m not ready yet. I need to understand. I need to know.”

“I think… I want you to come back to Qinghe with me,” Nie Huaisang says. “I can protect you there, and we have more resources. How much of your time do you spend making sure you have enough to eat?”

“About half,” Mo Xuanyu says. “A quarter sometimes. More sometimes.”

“Come let other people take care of your food needs. I’ll buy you pretty clothes, and you can work on your project. I understand the appeal of the black and red, it’s a real look, but we both know that’s not really your style.”

“It makes the ghosts happy,” Mo Xuanyu says. “They miss him. It reminds them of him.”

“How many ghosts?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“Most of the Dafan Wen. No one bothered with them. Hanguang-Jun came and cleared out most of the resentment years ago, but he didn’t force anyone to rest if they weren’t causing trouble. They’ve been standing guard over my saozi’s labor all these years. I spend most of my time chatting with Wen Qing. Did you know her brother is alive?”

Another cold look off into the distance before Nie Huaisang says, “I didn’t. Where…”

Wen Qing becomes abruptly visible in front of them.

Nie Huaisang squeaks, and then says, “Wen-daifu.”

Her voice is breathy but audible as she says, “Jin Guangyao blocked his spiritual cognition and Jin Guangshan bound him in chains beneath Jinlintai, after they murdered me. Once I realized I could do nothing for him, I looked after my family’s spirits, and found them here. I approve of Yanli’s task, and theirs, and so I have stayed here, mostly. Every once in a while I haunt Jin Guangyao a little, for fun. My ability to hurt him is limited, but scaring him is easy.”

Nie Huaisang bows and says, “A service to us all. This one humbly thanks Wen-daifu for keeping A-Yu company. I would like to bring him to Qinghe so that he may continue his work with more creature comforts.”

“If I come with you, will anyone try to put me to rest?” Wen Qing asks.

“You want… oh! If you aren’t causing problems, no one will trouble you. I wouldn’t recommend you go to Gusu, they notice such things more than we do. What, if I may ask, are you lingering for?” Nie Huaisang fluttered his fan and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. 

“One brother is stuck in a body which doesn’t change, and cannot enter the cycle. The other will not enter the cycle until his spiritual cognition is reassembled. I would see my brothers whole, or at least able to move on, or this whole awful mess undone completely, or Jin Guangyao dead. Some combination of that. In the meantime, the only one I can help is Mo Xuanyu, who is a good boy, but needs a bit of minding.”

“I’ve done all right,” Mo Xuanyu says.

They both look at him, and he sighs. “But yes, it would be nice to be able to really focus. Let me pack up. I’ll meet you down with your men, if Wen Qing can come, too.”

“She will be most welcome,” says Nie Huaisang. 

He bows, and turns to leave. Wen Qing fades significantly, and says to Mo Xuanyu, “I will bid my family farewell.”

He nods, and returns to the lodge to pack the books.

Planning

On the way to Qinghe, Mo Xuanyu tells Nie Huaisang, “So your brother… I think my brother was working with someone to turn him into a fierce corpse, and lost control of him.” They’re riding together in a slow carriage.

“Fuck,” Nie Huaisang breathes. “Of fucking course… I’m going to kill… no, that’s too… Tian a, Da-ge, what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to work with me to go back and fix this, is what you’re going to do,” Mo Xuanyu says, low and quiet. 

“Xue Yang was there for a while,” Wen Qing volunteers. “He’s not there now.”

“I miss Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang mutters. “He’d walk in and start shaking things until answers fell out, and he wouldn’t worry about reputation doing it.”

“I worried about reputation for a long time,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It didn’t help me much.”

“You tried to do what they wanted. They just didn’t take into account that you are a human being with feelings and a conscience,” Nie Huaisang says. 

Mo Xuanyu snorts. “If I go back to before, I’m never stepping foot in Lanling again if I can help it.” 

“Words to live by,” Wen Qing says, drifting translucently along with them. “I wish I never had. Jin Guangshan was a lying snake and I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Best thing my brother ever did,” mutters Mo Xuanyu. “Pity he waited so long and took out so many others.”

“If you go back,” Wen Qing says, “and you go back before Sunshot kicks off, please tell the other clans that he was having frequent conversations with Wen Ruohan, playing both sides to see who would come out on top.”

“Was he?” Mo Xuanyu gives her an interested look. 

“Everyone thought so,” Nie Huaisang says. “But it wasn’t obvious until the end. If it had been obvious at the beginning, and Jiang Wanyin had not been so completely green, he never would have been allowed to become Xiandu.”

“You two are going to have to tell me everything,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Mo Xuanyu ends up with rooms adjacent to Nie Huaisang, with the old war room across the hall being converted to the needs of their project. 

The central table has long been a map. The map is moved to the wall, and next to it, a long list of events, places, times, and relevant people. Mo Xuanyu gets deeply overwhelmed at first, then thinks of one of Wei Wuxian’s earliest talismans, Bonding (or binding) and adapts it to small, carved wooden pins, which can be attached to places on the map. 

Nie Huaisang sees him use the pins to make selective connections more obvious, makes an unholy squeal of glee, and asks, “Can I take one? Will it work if it’s metal?”

“I think any metal would work even better than the wood, but the engraving matters. If you have someone who makes spiritual weapons, whatever alloy they’re using would be fine, or… “ Mo Xuanyu stops for a moment, and then with quick brush strokes draws a design. “A thin needle or nail, sharp, cut to this long.” 

He ponders a moment longer. “Then they can create a mold or a stamp with a hole for the top of the nail, and join them together. It should be tiny, like jewelry.”

“Jade pins?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“I think metal would be easier for those of us with low spiritual energy,” Mo Xuanyu says.

After that, it gets easier to associate people with times and events. The list of “things Nie Huaisang would change” goes all the way back to the death of his father, but even he can’t figure out how he’d pull it off as a child. 

“Are we sure you should be the one to do this?” Nie Huaisang asks Mo Xuanyu one day. “I could go back farther than you can.”

“Your brother would stop you from running away,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Me? My mother might miss me, maybe, but she can’t stop me. My aunt would say good riddance.”

“Surely your mother would care,” says Nie Huaisang. 

“I mean, I made her life harder in every way, and she was so eager for me to be gone.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t just glad for you to have the opportunity?” Wen Qing asks. “I mean, I know how Lanling is, we all do, but she loved your father once, from what you’ve said.”

Mo Xuanyu looks away. “Anyway, I can get away from my mother. Huaisang would be running from his whole clan, led by Chifeng-Zun. I need to be the one to do it. Also, if I end up going back far enough, someone’s going to have to use demonic cultivation against Wen Ruohan, and I don’t know if it would be me or Wei Wuxian, but if I go back before he learned it and teach it to him early, maybe he’ll have enough power to stop things before they get bad?”

“If he’d had it at the indoctrination camp,” Nie Huaisang says, turning to where Wen Qing drifts.

“It would have changed everything,” Wen Qing says. "He used demonic cultivation to kill Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu, eventually, but if he’d used it sooner…”

“Make the dates as exact as you can,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I want to make plans for several potential jumps.”

Life in Qinghe

Mo Xuanyu spends the vast majority of his time between his rooms, the war room, the library, and Nie Huaisang’s garden. They have always been friendly, but now they’re friends, best friends, even, and it’s something Mo Xuanyu has never experienced before. 

Nie Huaisang teaches him how to braid hair in the Nie fashion. Teaches him about art, textiles, papermaking, fashion, not in the didactic way that Lanling Jin taught such things, but with the passion of a true enthusiast. 

Very few people in the clan see him, and when Jin Guangyao comes to support his da-ge’s didi, Mo Xuanyu is always, always elsewhere. 

Nie Huaisang is very dramatic about how much help he needs while Jin Guangyao is there, but is completely competent when he is not. 

Lan Xichen comes as well, and again, Mo Xuanyu stays out of the way. Nie Huaisang is meticulous in reporting the gossip they bring, and Mo Xuanyu is delighted to be well out of it. 

Nie Huaisang has started treating him like a dress up doll, which he doesn’t mind at all. They talk about the idea of sex, sometimes, but nothing comes of it. “We’re too much alike,” Nie Huaisang says. “I enjoy living vicariously through romance novels. The actual doing of such things I will leave to those with a more active interest.”

“I just… I’ve been hiding my whole life, from one thing or another. I don’t know that I can trust anyone, not even myself, in that situation,” Mo Xuanyu says, as Nie Huaisang walks around him, considering the fourth layer with a thoughtful frown. “I like being here, though. I like this.”

Nie Huaisang smiles at him. “You should have things you like.”

The next day, there’s a tray of his favorite snacks when they’re working on breaking down the talismans and considering the options for the final version.

“I still think going back as an adult would be better,” Nie Huaisang says.

“I think he was concerned about the amount of spiritual energy it would take.” Mo Xuanyu plucks a little cake off the tray and chews thoughtfully. “I mean, Wen Qing can travel instantly anywhere that isn’t actively warded, pretty much as often as she wants, but even strong cultivators are drained nearly to death by teleportation talismans.”

“I could have a dozen cultivators charge the talisman with power,” Nie Huaisang says, “if we adapt it with your energy storage technique.” 

“It’s a saber approach,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Brute force. And I’m not sure the price is on the same scale, for corporeal time travel. It might not be a candle versus a bonfire, or even a forest fire. It might be a candle versus all the fires of the heavens.”

“Worth a try?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“It could kill you. The approach I’m working on will actively sever the spiritual cognition from the body, which, if the time travel part doesn't work, will absolutely kill you. But again, the energy requirements for pushing a weightless spiritual cognition are not significant, once it is severed and the talisman starts the chain reaction that allows travel. So the part that is aware, the part that makes you you, travels back into an earlier self and is then alive. It just needs the initial push of activation.”

“And how does this affect the body when you get there?” Wen Qing asks. “Will it then have two spiritual cognitions? It seems like there’s going to be excess, somehow.”

“Won’t know until we try,” Mo Xuanyu says. “But I’m not ready. Quiz me again.”

He realizes, after a while, that in spite of it all, he is happy here in Qinghe, with a challenging task, good friends, good food, and a safe sleeping place. Places, as he sometimes curls up with Nie Huaisang. No one has even tried to hit him in a long time.

Of course, that’s when Jin Guangyao asks Nie Huaisang if he’s seen Jin Guangyao’s didi, that he was sent home for his health, and had apparently never arrived. That his mother had thought he was at Jinlintai, and was terribly worried that he was not. 

It would have been very convincing to most people, the brotherly concern. 

“It feels like a trap,” Mo Xuanyu says. “A trap for you, a trap for me…”

“If it gets too bad, use your talisman,” Nie Huaisang says. “I trust your judgment about how far back you go. You could even go back to this moment, now.”

“Apparently not,” Mo Xuanyu laughs, a dry bitter chuckle. “Or at least not yet. I have to live this through once, you know? It could change for you next time around. But I have to live it all. The only way I know it works is if I activate the talisman and don’t die. I need… I need to check on my mother.”

Wen Qing shimmers and then vanishes. Half a shichen later, while Mo Xuanyu is packing what he dares take with him (for once, he is leaving much behind,) she reappears. “She is sick, and fretful, and there are no Jin troops there.”

“I will have one of the juniors fly you close, but you should walk in,” Nie Huaisang says from where he has been watching Mo Xuanyu pack. 

“Come to me, if you decide to use it, if you can,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Just, please, they won’t tell me anything if you get hurt here. I’ll try to come back when my mother is better. But if you fail, I want to try.”

“Even if it kills me?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“Especially then,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“A-Yu, you don’t have to go.”

Mo Xuanyu smiles sadly and says, “A-Sang, you know I do.”

Home?

He arrives at Mo Village to his mother’s wails and his aunt’s slaps and his cousin’s fists. 

It only gets worse from there. His mother loves him, did everything for him, how could he do this to her? The lies Jin Guangyao told, pretending all compassion for Mo Xuanyu’s fragile mental state, are used to make every single word he says sound like the words of a lunatic. 

“It wasn’t like that,” he protests. “He was doing bad things. I was trying to tell her…”

His mother screams at him, and then keeps screaming until something in her breaks, and the next thing he knows, they’re telling him that he killed her, that she died of shame because he’s a pervert who would go after his brother’s wife, or maybe his brother, and where was he all these years, maybe prostituting himself?

He starts to run, but his aunt bids the servants to throw him in a locked room, and he’s too stunned for a while to do anything at all.

And then, too hungry. 

His mind, normally active and trying to find solutions, is numb, pins and needles, and he can’t… he can’t do anything. Someone leaves him food, but it’s terrible, and he can’t make himself… 

A distant part of himself knows that he doesn’t have to stay, that he knows enough demonic cultivation to get out of a room, that he could escape, he could run, but his mother died of shame, screaming at him, and the part of him that wants to live is very, very far away, but he can’t bring himself to save himself by going back…

He drinks the water they leave, driven by pure animal need. 

He picks at the food.

He moves all of his belongings to the innermost pockets after his cousin threatens to take the robe off his back. There is little of worth here, but Ziyuan breaks it all anyway.

Then he does very little, for a long time. Sometimes Ziyuan beats him. Sometimes his aunt comes to scream at him or slap him. 

He can’t bring himself to care.

One day he finds himself wishing he could feel something, anything at all, and he puts on the pretty dress, paints his face.

Ziyuan sees him, and screams at him for being a cutsleeve, and beats him again. Is it a different beating from the ones before? He doesn’t know, and has a hard time caring.

Wen Qing comes, sometimes, and tries to talk to him, tries to get him to move. 

“They already think I’m crazy, and now they’re going to think I’m talking to myself,” Mo Xuanyu mutters.

She swears, and says something about depressive idiots who don’t see their own inestimable worth.

She keeps trying. She even begs, once, for him to get himself out of this, to come home to Qinghe, that Nie Huaisang is worried about him and wants him safe.

“I killed my mother,” he says. “You shouldn’t want me anywhere, let alone safe.”

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll let Huaisang deal with this. He wants to use his talisman. Maybe he should.”

The Death of Nie Huaisang

He barely reacts when Nie Huaisang comes and uses his not insignificant wiles and some outright bribery with silks to visit his “dear friend” in his “moment of grief.”

Mo Xuanyu is crumpled on the floor, idly tracing radicals in dust he could whistle away in a moment. 

“Oh, baobei, your hair,” Nie Huaisang says. And then sniffs, winces, and calls for a hot bath to be brought. “And furniture, why is there no furniture in here?”

“We were afraid he would hurt himself with it,” says A-Tong. 

Mo Xuanyu could tell Nie Huaisang that this is an absolute lie, that his whole family would be perfectly content if he dropped dead, but it’s too much work to say anything. 

The servants bring in a tub, water, and a bed, and he hands them a few coins and asks them to fetch one of his disciples from the courtyard, the biggest one, please.

When the man comes in, Nie Huaisang says, “Xiongmao, I’m going to undress him. I need you to lift him into the tub.”

The big man, Nie Xiongmao, nods, and waits as Nie Huaisang carefully takes the layers off. 

Mo Xuanyu’s trousers are the only thing remaining that is his, the other garments stolen from him and replaced with rougher weave from one of the servants.

When Nie Huaisang starts to take the trousers off, Mo Xuanyu reacts, saying, “No, mine, I’ll kill you.”

“Hush, A-Yu. It’s Huaisang. We’re bathing you. Just bathing. Time to get clean. I’ll give you fresh clothes, and we can talk once you’re clean.’

Mo Xuanyu looks up at Nie Huaisang and says, “They’ll only steal them again.”

“They won’t have a chance. I’m going to fix this.”

Mo Xuanyu wonders but does not ask what the point of bathing is if Nie Huaisang is going to undo everything anyway. He lets Nie Huaisang take the pants, lets Xiongmao pick him up and lower him like a baby into the tub, and then sits while Nie Huaisang cleans him with his own hands. 

Another of the Nie disciples brings in a meal, and Nie Huaisang feeds it to him in the bath, slowly, then bids Xiongmao to continue feeding while he tackles the rats nest that is Mo Xuanyu’s hair. 

When he is fed, and clean, and not clothed in rags, when he is lying in an actual bed, Nie Huaisang dismisses Nie Xiongmao, sits next to Mo Xuanyu and says, “Are you able to listen and look at something for me?”

Mo Xuanyu nods.

“Here’s my final version. I worked on it after you were gone, but I think it incorporates everything we need.” He holds up a talisman. 

Mo Xuanyu’s gaze traces the new radicals and the old, and he frowns. “It’s going to… I don’t think it’s going to work the way you want it to.” The talisman is already buzzing with spiritual energy. “It’s charged?”

“A dozen of Nie’s finest. Show me yours,” Nie Huaisang says.

It takes less than a thought for it to appear In his hand, and Mo Xuanyu holds it up. “Only the destination date is missing.” 

“Right. I’m going to fix this, A-Yu.”

“A-Sang,” Mo Xuanyu starts to say, but then there is a flash of light, and a sensation of pressure, and when his vision clears, Nie Huaisang’s body is slumped over him. 

“A-Sang,” he whispers, vision blurring. “A-Sang…”

Well, shit, you were right.

“I told you,” he says to Nie Huaisang’s spirit.

I didn’t go anywhere at all.

“My talisman impels the spiritual cognition. Yours was trying to move too much. The energy tried, and failed.”

And now?

“I don’t want to live in a world you’re no longer in.” 

Mo Xuanyu holds up his talisman, nips his finger, and adds the destination time. Without waiting, he activates it.

Part 2: First Loop

Chapter 6: Qinghe

The Second Death of Nie Huaisang

The first thing he’s aware of is that something heavy is on his arm. It feels like he’s been asleep for a long time, his body feels odd, more rested than he can remember being. Clean, still? Again?

His eyes open, and the first thing he sees is Nie Huaisang slumped against his arm, in a different position… in a different… is he in Qinghe? How—

Nie Huaisang is dead. 

There is a note, saying, “I found you in your room in the village, unconscious. I brought you here, so that I could fix this. If it doesn’t work, you can go try yours when you wake. If you wake. Maybe you did, and it didn’t work. Maybe you did, and it did. But either way, it wasn’t far enough.”

Nie Huaisang’s body is still warm under his frantic hand when he checks for a pulse. 

Mo Xuanyu does not speak, does not say anything to the spirit he can already feel lingering. 

Mo Xuanyu laughs, bitter, through tears, and steps out of his room in Qinghe to ask a passing servant what day it is. He doesn’t tell her that Nie Huaisang is dead, because that’s not going to matter very long.

He had set the talisman for a day before Nie Huaisang showed up. He has been unconscious for two full days.

He still has his time travel talisman, because he has had the finished version for months, and it’s still there in the qiankun pocket of his trousers.

He bites his finger.

He fills in the space left for a destination time with the glyphs for one week prior. 

He activates it.

Part 3: Second  Loop

Chapter 7: Mo Village

Acrimony

He wakes to pain in his ribs, and Ziyuan yelling at him to wake up, that he’s wasted food sleeping so much for two days. 

He doesn’t open his eyes, and spares a thought that if he ever does try Sacrifice Summon, his awful cousin is going to be at the top of the list.

Ziyuan leaves, and Mo Xuanyu opens his eyes. If he was down for two days… Huaisang will be here soon enough. And he can tell him that the talisman works his way, but not Nie Huaisang’s way.

He gets up, eats, and discovers a simmering energy under his skin. He’s had a golden core for years now, but it’s never felt like this. The bruises Ziyuan put on him are fading as he watches. He wonders at what it must mean.

Wen Qing shows up, and immediately asks, “What did you do?”

“It works,” he says. “And my golden core is stronger… I don’t understand why. It takes so little energy to activate that talisman, how could it affect me this much?”

“Give me some of your energy,” she says.

He does, and she looks startled, and then solidifies next to him. He’s never had enough to give to her this way. He could have done it with resentful energy, but it would have hurt her. 

She feels his meridians, cocks her head, and lets herself go insubstantial again. “If I push a pebble off a mountain, it doesn’t take much energy. But if the mountain is tall enough, even a tiny pebble could kill someone standing underneath. Maybe it’s like that? I know you want to go back a ways, but please, age ten at the farthest. I was still alive then. Go to me, tell me what I’ve said now, ask me to check before you go back any further. You are currently… ah, tell me you were as strong as Wen Ning at sixteen, before. You are currently as strong as I am…was. I don’t know if the length of the journey impacts the boost to the core.”

“Will you believe me then?” he asks.

“You know what to tell me, if I don’t,” she says. 

Yanli and Nie Huaisang and all the Dafan Wen spirits have told him small secrets that their past selves might recognize him as someone they can trust.

He writes a talisman to take him back fourteen years, to age ten, but doesn’t use it yet. He still has something to say.

Nie Huaisang shows up, and Mo Xuanyu is as clean as he can make himself given the circumstances.

Without preamble, he says, “Mine works. Yours does not. Every time you have tried to send your body back, you have died. Your spirit doesn’t go anywhere. Mine knocks me out for two days on arrival, but it also strengthens my golden core. Even a week gave me a large boost.”

“I can use that one, then,” Nie Huaisang says, leaning toward him.

“No, you can’t,” Mo Xuanyu says. “If I’m right, you’re going to be trapped and chased and inhibited at every turn by your well-meaning brother. And if you do it, I can’t, because I’ll be a baby, and I will never have learned what you need me to know. You don’t know demonic cultivation the way I do. Your memory is very good, but it’s not as good as mine, and this depends entirely on memory retention.”

“How far did you travel?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“A day, the first time. A week, this time. Both times because you died on me. Literally, on me.”

“I want to at least try to save my father!” Nie Huaisang says, voice rising.

“You CAN’T.” Mo Xuanyu says. “You were too young. Who would believe you, a little kid who hates the saber and doesn’t want his diedie to hunt?”

“And they’re going to believe you?” Nie Huaisang says, almost snarling, as angry as Mo Xuanyu has ever seen him.

“Wen Qing will. You will. I’m not… I promise I will do everything I know how to save your brother. If I fail, I’ll go back farther and try again.”

Mo Xuanyu holds up the talisman. 

“Give it to me,” Nie Huaisang says, stepping forward, arm outstretched, the look in his eye consumed with urgency.

“No,” Mo Xuanyu says, activating it.

  Part 4: Third Loop

Chapter 8: Ten

Mo Village

He wakes with his mother crying softly next to him, stroking his hair, begging him to wake up so that he can eat.

He feels… he feels amazing, actually. This body has never touched resentful energy, but is brimming with power from a golden core so much stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. He’s not even hungry. 

His body is little, a child’s. It is before the growth spurt that made him taller than his brother, taller than Huaisang… 

“What… what’s been happening?” he asks her.

It takes some time before she stops wailing at him about how long he was unconscious, how frightened she was. She keeps going on about it as she makes him eat and drink and then bathe, and it is while he is sitting in the water, bemused at his suddenly smaller self, that she finally starts giving him the gossip he so desperately needs. 

She tells him how, while he was sleeping, Wei Wuxian had wickedly murdered Jin cultivators, stolen criminals from a work camp… He winces, because it means their dates were off, someone hadn’t remembered correctly. He had wanted to come back before that… 

Then he realizes he’d forgotten to account for the two day coma that seems inevitable with this form of time travel, and his foot travel time. 

“He’s building an ARMY,” she is saying.

“I don’t think he is,” he murmurs, and she frowns. 

“He’s a wicked, wicked man and your father will stop him.” Her voice is scolding.

He bites back anything he might say about his father and asks if he may be excused. 

She checks his forehead, decides he isn’t dying, and lets him go.

He has more freedom, as a child, than he ever did as an adult.

He quietly nabs a few household talismans off the wall, turns them over, and scribbles a quick don’t-look-here on one, and a silence spell on the other. The paper is good, though the talismans themselves were otherwise worthless before he used them. 

It’s sufficient to allow him to sneak into his cousin’s room. His cousin is currently six, and has more money than Mo Xuanyu had seen until he went to Jinlintai. He scribbles another talisman, an altered trading one which resonates with silver to help merchants avoid counterfeits, and finds what he expected: there are at least seven purses in this room, and one of them has fallen behind the bed platform and will not be missed.

He pulls a few small ingots out of each of the other purses. Ziyuan couldn’t count very well as an adult; he’s certainly not going to figure it out as a child. 

There’s enough silver ingots and copper coins to last him for quite a while. 

Heartened, he sneaks into his aunt’s office, and pilfers a few pieces of gold, replacing them with silver so the bag weight won’t change, slipping the silver to the bottom of the bag. He finds a worn inkstone and an old brush and a stash of worthless good luck talismans, and takes those. A quick cleaning talisman removes the traces that might lead back to him. 

The kitchen staff are kind to him when he goes asking them for some extra food because he was sick for two days, and he has a basket of bao and fruit and some extra bread, as well as a small knife he “borrows” to cut the fruit. He slips some table linens into his basket as well, and a small sewing kit.

He reactivates his don’t-look-here so that Ziyuan will not see his treats, long enough to get back to his mother’s room, and then tells his mother that he’s going to go play near the woods.

She frets at him but doesn’t stop him.

As soon as he’s out the door, he activates the talisman again, and starts walking.

Journey to Yiling

The walk to Yiling is a little different for a ten-year-old child than it was when he had been kicked out of Jinlintai at nineteen.

He wonders if he should just go back a week, now, make sure Wen Ning survives… but Wen Qing told him to have her check him before he tried any more jumps, and they don’t know yet if it’s the distance or the numbers of jumps increasing his core, and he really doesn’t want to qi deviate trying to find out. 

He wonders, idly, if him qi deviating as a child might change anything at all for anyone, but it’s not like he’d get a chance to try again if he did, and if he hadn’t figured out the time travel talisman, no one else would. It might not matter to Jin Guangyao or Wei Wuxian or Jin Guangshan’s paths, but it would matter to Nie Huaisang. It would matter to Wen Qing. It would matter to Jiang Yanli. 

So he will ride this out, this loop, take it as far as he can, learn as much as he can, and then try again. 

He adds to his basket as he goes. The small sharp knife gives him a few bamboo canes to work with. He finds a small, flat piece of wood. 

When he gets to the fork in the road that leads to Yiling, he manages to hitch a ride on a cart, and then another, and while they aren’t faster than walking, it gives him time to make a qiankun belt to wear up against his skin. It’s easier than making a bag, just a simple tube with the qiankun array in the middle, the array carved tiny with the point of the knife into the flat piece of wood, slipped in the middle of the tube. The embroidering of the talismanic opening is hard without a frame, in a moving cart, but he just takes out the stray stitches, and then redoes them. On the outside, he puts a don’t-look-at-this-belt-you-can’t-feel-it-either talisman and then wraps the belt around his waist under his clothes, just leaving an end where he can access it. 

When the cart stops for the night, he deactivates his don’t-look-here long enough to ask the innkeeper in the small town they’ve stopped at if he can do a few chores in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep. 

He’s clean, and polite, and they make sure he can do the work before they feed him. When it is time to sleep, the innkeeper’s wife tells him to go sleep with the stablehands, and he whispers to her, “Please, I’m traveling as a boy so I won’t be such a target for men. My father died and my mother is sick…. she’s sending me to my grandmother in Yiling, but we couldn’t afford an escort… Is there someplace I can sleep that isn’t full of men?” 

She looks at him, considers, and then says, “Thought you were awfully pretty for a boy. Clean, too, for having been on the road all day. Most of the rooms are empty, you can stay in the one at the back, just clean it when you’re done. Such a brave girl.” She tuts. “I don’t know what your mother was thinking. She must not have had a choice.”

“She didn’t. I had to beg her to let me.” He gives a maid’s quick courtesy, and thanks her effusively for the kindness.

With privacy, he has time to remove the ink from the remaining luck talismans, and draws up one for detecting silver, gold, and copper, then draws up another for protection from malicious spirits and low-level curses. The luck talismans would have been fine with the ink still on them, but it would raise questions, and these are gifts. He takes some time to consider his options, and then draws several other talismans that had not been released by the time Wen Qing died, but which he’s memorized. And then a handful of cleaning talismans. 

In the deepest part of the belt, he puts one time travel talisman, set to age eight, just in case. 

He sleeps.

In the morning, he cleans the room with one of the talismans and makes the bed by hand, the cleaning talisman having refreshed the bedding better than it was when he slept in it. His cleaning talismans can be reused if infused with enough spiritual energy. He makes a number of trigger points around the edge and fills each one. It depletes him not at all, which was not the case when he’d designed it. 

He finds his hostess, and bows to her, and says, “For your kindness, Furen,” and hands her the cleaning talisman, the counterfeit detector, and the protection charm, and then explains how each one works.

She looks skeptical, but a guest has just left, so he shows her the cleaning talisman in action with one of his own. “Just hold it like so,” he says, pinching one of the spots between his two fingers, “and then think about what you want cleaned. If your imagination is big enough, it might do the whole inn, but probably best to not do that when anyone is in bed.”

She laughs at the notion, as she’s seen the little dust eddy that whisked itself out the front door. “I imagine your little winds could get a bit personal.”

“Ah, yeah, don’t clean people with it. The talismans won’t last forever but they might be a kindness to you while they do. The protection charm will last until it burns out due to being used. If it turns black or burns up, it stopped either something big or a lot of small things, but I can’t imagine someone as kind as you getting too many curses.”

She smiles a genuine smile, and packs him a lunch, and then insists on having her brother take him to the next town, where one of her cousins also has an inn.

“First, is there a woodcarver in this town?” 

He comes away from the woodcarver with a small stack of thin, square pieces of good quality wood. They’d been destined to become a small wooden box, but will work for Mo Xuanyu’s purposes. He pays for them with one of the counterfeit detectors. When the man uses the detector and discovers two lead plugs in his moneybox, he asks Mo Xuanyu if there’s anything else he needs. 

He comes away with well-cured bamboo cut to the desired length, and the lead plugs, for demonstrating the detector later for people who don’t have counterfeit in their money boxes. 

The woodcarver says, “Send word when you’re settled, lad, and we’ll buy more if you’re selling.”

On the way, in the cart, he makes a simple qiankun pouch, more suitable for carrying a larger quantity of materials, and does most of the work of making a simple dizi. 

He gets his lunch in the next town, pays with a protection talisman, and the cousin’s uncle hoists him up onto a horse and rides behind him to Yiling in a shichen or so at a brisk and bumpy trot-walk. 

“My grandmother lives a little ways away, but I’ll be safe from here,” he assures the gruff, middle-aged man when they arrive in the late afternoon. “I need to shop for her.”

“You know how to get there, then?” the man asks.

“It’s like a second home to me,” Mo Xuanyu says absolutely truthfully.

He buys a sack of rice, hoists it onto his shoulder, walks into an alleyway, and pops it into the pouch. He repeats this for a variety of foods, cheap earthenware plates and cups, always saying, “I’m running errands for my popo,” when people ask why he needs them.

He thinks about what Wen Qing told him about their early days, and gets a handful of blankets from one vendor, a handful from another.

There’s a shop that has some music supplies, including the reed for a dimo, and the vendor offers to place it for him. 

Then he buys a pair of chickens in a wooden crate, activates a don’t-look-here, thinks about it, activates a silence talisman to help reduce the chicken noise, and walks the familiar path up to the Burial Mounds as the summer sun hangs low on the horizon.

The wardstones are up, and quite majestic. Mo Xuanyu studies them, looking for the things he’d missed before, and then puts a hand against the wardstone gently. 

Moments later, a spirit approaches, and he raises his dizi and plays a short, gentle greeting. 

The spirit seems startled, and disappears. 

Shortly after that, Wen Qing and a man he recognizes from her memories and from Yanli’s come down the path. Wei Wuxian is thin and looks unwell, but he radiates something that speaks of power and charisma.

Mo Xuanyu straightens. “Wei Wuxian?”

“It’s a kid?” Wei Wuxian says to Wen Qing. “What’s a kid doing dabbling with the ghostly path? Talking to my ghosts?” He sounds indignant.

“Perhaps you should ask him,” Wen Qing says dryly. 

“Kid, why are you using demonic cultivation?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“It works better when you want to work with spirits, rather than fight them,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I’m not using demonic cultivation, I merely greeted your spirit and told him I was a friend and needed to talk to you. Well, something to that effect. Intention matters more than intonation with this stuff.”

“Who taught you that?” Wei Wuxian asks, his voice shifting from indignation to intrigue.

“You did,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Or well, your notes did, hmmm… five or six years from now.”

Wei Wuxian wags a scolding finger at him and says, “You should be developing your golden core, not dabbling around with things you don’t under—Did you say five years from now? As in, in the future?”

“My golden core is fine. I’m not sure when you’ll first start making that talisman, but I’m going to bet you’ve been wondering if time travel is possible,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

Wen Qing steps forward and puts a hand on his wrist without a by-your-leave, but Mo Xuanyu has been hanging out with her spirit for years now, and he doesn’t even blink at the familiarity.

Wei Wuxian says, “I haven’t written anything down, there hasn’t been time… did you… you must have separated your spiritual cognition, or you’d be an adult.”

“He has the core of an adult,” Wen Qing says. “His body looks nine or ten, tops, but his core is closer to a typical adult Wen cultivator in strength. Maybe stronger. Brute strength, he’s stronger than me.”

“So way stronger than Wen Chao, probably a little less than Wen Xu? Weaker than mine…” Wei Wuxian looks thoughtful. “I wouldn’t think you’d be able to take it back in time…” he trails off.

She nods. “Roughly between them, definitely less than yours. Yours… is one of the strongest I’d ever felt in anyone younger than fifty.” 

Wei Wuxian focuses on Mo Xuanyu and says, “So, spiritual cognition? You were older, then—what, twenty?”

“Twenty-four, and something like that. But I didn’t have a very strong core, then,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I read your notes at Lanling because my brother Jin Guangyao and my father Jin Guangshan wanted to understand them, several years after you died.” He says brother and father as though they are dirty words.

Both Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian freeze, and go bone white. “You’re a Jin?” Wei Wuxian says, fear staining every word.

Mo Xuanyu spits on the dry earth. “I’m not. After your death, the man who impregnated my mother will bring me back to Lanling to put pressure on my half-brother, because my other half-brother, his legitimate son, is dead and he wants my living brother to know that he is completely replaceable. But they never called me Jin. I’ve always had my mother’s name.” He bows. “Mo Yu, courtesy Xuanyu. I will not become a Jin in this lifetime, or any other from here on, if I can help it.”

“Do the Jin know we are here?” Wen Qing asks.

“I haven’t spoken to any Jin since I came back. I assume they do. This was my first stop,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I understand they started arguing about what to do about you quite quickly after Qiongqi Dao.”

“Why did you come here?” Wen Qing asks.

“Because you told me to,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Your spirit did.” 

“That’s fascinating and horrifying, but what we really need to know is why you came back at all, Not-A-Jin.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is hard, and sharp. 

“The world is shit, and I need to learn from you, so that I can go back farther, and fix it. I might be able to save Lotus Pier if I do, and I’m going to do my utmost to save Wen Ning. I was supposed to get here earlier, but we miscalculated,” Mo Xuanyu says ruefully. “But this was always going to be a trial run.”

“Why did I tell you to come to me here?” Wen Qing asks. 

“To do what you just did,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Look at my core, tell me how strong it is. When I say my core was weak, I mean my father thought it was so worthless he was willing for me to damage my health using demonic cultivation. It was about as weak as Wen Ning’s at sixteen, you said, before… before I came back. It was stronger by a bit when I jumped back two days, but you, she didn’t measure it, then. When I jumped back a week, it was as strong as yours is when you’re not…”

“Starving?” Wen Qing says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh! I brought food!” Mo Xuanyu says.

“The chickens?” Wei Wuxian asks. “They won’t go very far among the number of people we have.”

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head and hands over the qiankun pouch.

“Who made this?” Wei Wuxian asks, tipping it from side to side in his hand. It is rougher and larger than they usually are. 

“I did, on one of the carts I took to get here,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Open it.”

“You just…made… a qiankun pouch… in a moving cart…” Wei Wuxian peeks in the top opening, and then looks momentarily dizzy. “What…. Did you stuff a whole marketplace in here? Were you seen?”

“I told them I was shopping for my popo. Is she here? I miss her.” Mo Xuanyu smiles his most angelic smile.

“Aiya, this kid,” Wei Wuxian says, obviously having finally slotted Mo Xuanyu into the category of one of his. “We’ll take the food up, Wen Qing will do a more thorough evaluation of your health, and I want a look at your time travel talisman.”

“The food is for all of you. For us, if you let me stay. I came here for Wen Qing to help me figure out if further jumps are going to make me qi deviate. But I don’t even have the talisman right now. It requires quality materials, and I couldn’t exactly bring anything with me. I could draw it, but I’m not going to. You tried it once. So did Nie Huaisang. I’m the only one who has survived the process.” Mo Xuanyu picks up the chicken crate, and lets Wen Qing bring him through the ward.

It’s a lie, about the time travel talisman, but he learned to lie as easily as breathing from his brother. Better to make them think it doesn’t exist than have Wei Wuxian go haring off without a plan.

“I can take the chickens,” Wei Wuxian starts, and then his brain catches up with him and he says, “Wait, how do you know I tried?”

Mo Xuanyu switches the chicken crate to the hand farthest from Wei Wuxian and says, “I performed Empathy with your sister’s spirit. I found her diligently picking up the spiritual scraps of your shattered spiritual cognition. She’d seen the talisman in the moments before your death, and was able to show it to me.”

“Shijie’s… spirit…”

“When I found her, she’d been working on it for eight years. The pieces were like grains of sand, sometimes dust. It was going to be years more for her to finish so that you could both reenter the cycle.”

Wei Wuxian staggers at that, slumps, and Wen Qing hurries to his side to keep him from falling. 

They’re coming up to the beginnings of a settlement, now. They’ve been here a week, maybe. Wen Qing had told him that they’d sold the horses they escaped on, and bought building materials and seeds, but that food had been thin. The people are working hard, though the sun is casting long, reddish rays through the evening. 

“Are those chickens?” someone asks. “Why does that boy have chickens? Who is he? Why would he come here?”

“Why chickens?” Wen Qing asks.

“A rooster and a pullet. She’s just started laying. He’s… well, you could cook him, or you could wait until she goes broody so you get chicks. You could maybe cook him after that, the chicks will probably have a few roosters among them. But I brought other food. Chickens are easy.”

An old woman comes up who seems familiar. “Call me Popo, child, everyone does. I’ll take care of the chickens.”

He looks at her, and smiles, and then, appallingly, starts to cry.

“What’s this?” she asks. “Tears?”

“I’m sorry, Popo,” he says. “I missed you so much.” 

She looks absolutely perplexed, but then shrugs it off and puts an arm around him. She’s not much taller than he is, but it’s enormously comforting. “Ah, it’s alright, child. I assume there’s a big story about why you are here, in this place, bearing gifts. Tell my old ears sometime, when you can.”

“I brought food,” he says, gesturing at the bag in Wei Wuxian’s hands. Wei Wuxian sets it down on a stump and starts pulling things out. 

“I also have some money, and can earn more,” he says.

Wei Wuxian pulls out a blanket, and Popo says, “Meili, A-Heng, you help A-Xian empty that.”

A man steps forward, says, “I’m Sishu.”

“I know,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Do you now? And how does a kid get this much stuff and money? You’re what, nine?”

“I’m ten. I stole it from my asshole cousin who used to beat me and steal my things. He deserved it. You deserve the money more than he does.”

Sishu cackles, delighted. “I like this one. We all know about asshole cousins here.”

“Language, both of you. A-Yuan is still awake,” Popo says. 

A-Yuan, with the invariable instinct for his name that most three-year-olds share, comes running from the first shelter. “Popo? Who is this pretty gege?”

“Call him Yu-gege,” Wen Qing says. 

Mo Xuanyu smiles. “This must be A-Yuan. I have heard so much about you, but I never met you.”

“You’ve never met any of us,” says Sishu.

Mo Xuanyu smiles sadly. “Until today, I had not met Wei Wuxian, or Wen Ning, or A-Yuan. The rest of you, I knew well, when I was twenty.”

“Wow, you’re just going to tell everyone, aren’t you? Just like that?” Wei Wuxian says. 

“I need you all to believe me, to believe that I know you, that I care about what happens to you, and that I’m here to help. And I need you to trust me completely when I tell you something is a trap, or will not work,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

He looks around the circle, and then says each of their names, and something he’s learned about them. 

To Wen Qing, he says, “You never wanted to be in Nightless City at all. Wen Ruohan frightened you, and you think he caused your parents’ death. You told me once you wished you’d known that he would not protect your family, that he would lose the war, that everything would go so badly after. You said, if you’d known early enough, you would have had them flee, had Wen Ning flee, sooner, and you would have killed Wen Ruohan, his sons, and their lapdog Wen Zhuliu with your bare hands to stop the war from destroying Qishan and the Wen name so completely.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve never killed, I’ve never wanted to kill, it’s not our way to…”

“You told me that you would say that, but your future self told me that those four deaths you were too afraid to cause could have saved tens of thousands of lives. It could have saved Lotus Pier. It could have saved Cloud Recesses. It could have saved most of the common folk of Qishan.”

“And yet you come back now, when I can do nothing?” Wen Qing asks, her voice bitter.

“I need to learn. Nie Huaisang and I only had so much information, and I learned most of my skills from Wei Wuxian’s notes and your spirit. I’m going to mess things up this time. I already have, but I need to ride this out as long as I can with you, learning, so that when I go back farther, I do it better. I think I can go back once more, maybe twice, but if I qi deviate, not only won’t I be able to change anything, but there will be absolutely no one left to even try to fix anything, and as bad as this is right now? It got so, so much worse later.”

“He doesn’t sound like a kid,” one of the aunties says.

“I know why you never met my spirit,” Wei Wuxian says. “And I can guess at Wen Ning, though if you could tell me if I manage to…”

“He woke up, regained more of his spiritual cognition than he had most of his life, but appeared as a fierce corpse in most respects. I’m told that he was very polite. When I time traveled, he’d been stuck in the bowels of Jinlintai for thirteen years, spiritual cognition blocked, probably for the sake of my brother’s research with Xue Yang.”

“Jin Guangyao is working with Xue Yang?” Wei Wuxian says slowly, a little smoke rising from his shoulders.

“Do not underestimate the lengths my brother will go to in order to get what he wants,” says Mo Xuanyu. Then he says, “I need to play for you. Lan-zongzhu used to play for us and it would make me feel better.”

“I’ll kill him,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“Eventually, someone will. We’re not going to let him get away with this. I’ll go back as far as I have to, to stop him,” Mo Xuanyu says. “But I need to do it carefully. There’s so much more at stake than just Jin Guangyao.” 

Then he lifts his dizi, and plays the tune that used to make him feel the best. It doesn’t seem to do much at first, though his intention is strong.

“Infuse your playing with spiritual energy,” Wei Wuxian says. “The Lan method is very different from resentful energy cultivation, though I got the idea from that.”

He does, and it works quickly. He’d grown used to manipulating the tiny amount of qi he’d had. This floods into his music with the least urging.

Wei Wuxian blinks and says, “Shit, I need to have you do that for Wen Ning soon.”

“I’d be happy to,” Mo Xuanyu says, and then yawns. 

“Someone make him a sleeping place in Wei Wuxian’s cave,” Wen Qing says. “It will have to do until we can make another space. Core or no core, you’re ten, and you need rest. It’s very late.”

Wei Wuxian asks endless questions of Mo Xuanyu. They work together, clearing resentful energy from the place they’re living, and rather than dissipating it, concentrating it into a wall around the perimeter of the Burial Mounds.

Mo Xuanyu talks to the spirits, as he always does, explaining that the people living here now will honor the dead, and directing any remaining ire toward anyone who would hurt the Dafan Wen.

Wei Wuxian is fascinated. “That’s not how I do it, but I like it. Wait, I just realized, you’re like, older than I am. I should call you Yu-gege, too!” 

“Please,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Please don’t. You’re eighteen? I was twenty-four when I came back. But I don’t feel twenty-four.”

They’re walking the perimeter, tweaking wardstones and setting temporary talismans together.

“You’re going to go back someday and you’ll be even younger in your body and even older in your soul,” Wei Wuxian says. “If you go back far enough, teach me demonic cultivation your way. My way hurts too much.”

“You haven’t figured out how to balance it with your core?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Wei Wuxian stares at him, blinking, for a long time, not speaking.

“What?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“She told you so much, and she didn’t tell you that?” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. 

Mo Xuanyu narrows his eyes. “Tell. Me. What.” 

“Ah, I was never going to tell anyone, not ever, and I made her promise… but you, you actually have a chance at fixing it.” Wei Wuxian rolls his shoulders and then holds out an arm. “Feel my meridians.”

Mo Xuanyu takes the offered wrist, sends a little energy in, and then stops, blinks, and says, “I should have figured that out. Wen Zhuliu?”

“Indirectly. Wen Qing removed it and gave it to my brother. Wen Zhuliu crushed his core. He cultivates normally now. He needed it more. I’m doing fine without it. He was suicidal.”

“And you’re not?” Mo Xuanyu says, disbelieving. “I’ve been there, I had to be to come back at all. You literally threw yourself off a cliff two years from now.”

“He’s Jiang-zongzhu!” Wei Wuxian starts, and Mo Xuanyu holds up a hand.

“I don’t… you… I know Jiang Wanyin very well. He was often at Jinlintai, because of Jin Ling. Frankly, you’re worth ten of him.”

“I’m not!” Wei Wuxian says. “They saved me. They took me in… I owed them… It was my fault…”

“Have you ever asked Wen Qing if any of this was your fault?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

“What?”

“She knew Wen Ruohan well, she knew what he was planning. I spent years talking to her about it, about specific causes, and not once did she say that the fall of Lotus Pier had anything to do with you, no matter what they said. Was your sixth shidi truly plotting the overthrow of Qishan Wen?”

“Of course not,” Wei Wuxian says. “He was just a kid.”

“You’re still just a kid,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You were even younger, then. I’ve had some experience with bullies. They will always try to make it sound like your fault, even though you are just doing the right thing.”

“But Jiang Cheng…”

“Look, according to Wen Qing, he’s going to show up in a couple days. You’re planning on telling him that you’re defecting, and you’re going to fight about it. He will stab you in the gut. It will take forever to heal. She didn’t tell me why, but I’m going to assume that it’s the core thing. I think you shouldn’t do that. I think you should tell him the truth, and I should tell him the truth, and you should let him make his own choices with as much information as possible. He was an angry, bitter man when I knew him, and a lot of it was that he had lost everyone he ever loved, and that probably includes you. If it doesn’t, he’s more of a fool than I thought, and doesn’t deserve you anyway. She thinks he just wanted you to come home.”

“He’s too new, he can’t stand against the other clans alone… the clan was nearly destroyed. He’s building it back, but…”

“Where is Yiling?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “Which clan?” He knows. Nie Huaisang had showed him. Wen Qing had agreed, in their vanished future.

“It’s on the border between Qishan Wen and Yunmeng Jiang,” Wei Wuxian says absently. “Qishan Wen was responsible for the Burial Mounds, but apparently that means ‘Using it as a convenient place to dump people without bothering to the disposition of their remains or spirits.’”

“But it’s on the border. Yiling would look to Yunmeng Jiang now, if they thought they could ask.”

“What are you saying?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Be clear.”

“Give him another way. Give him a reason to fight for you, and give him the wherewithal to do it. You’re not building an army, you’re using the Wen to fix the problem Qishan Wen neglected so many years. No one would possibly want to live in the Burial Mounds. Lanling Jin was experimenting with actual demonic cultivation on Wen prisoners.”

Mo Xuanyu paces. “You rightfully punished cruel men who were jabbing spirit flags into bodies, for what… fun? No, they wanted to see what would happen, and were probably ordered to do so. They had me raising corpses at sixteen. The Lan would not let that stand, let alone Qinghe Nie. You tell them that you’re using the Wen to put the Burial Mounds to rest and eliminate a severe source of resentment in the area? The Lan would help. Tell Qinghe Nie that we know how to ease the damage of resentful energy, and they’ll jump on board, too. Make it so you’re doing Jiang Wanyin a favor, by fixing a problem in his territory that no one else has ever been able to solve.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “You’ve been sitting on that one for a while, hm?”

“I lived at Jinlintai for almost six years. The idea that they hold the moral high ground is laughable.”

“But I don’t want to tell Jiang Cheng about the core,” Wei Wuxian whines. “He’ll cry and he’ll yell and…”

Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes. “He’ll cry and yell even if you don’t tell him.”

“Aiya, kid, stop with all that making-sense nonsense. You can’t make me tell him.” Wei Wuxian stalks to the next wardstone, glowering.

Mo Xuanyu follows. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”

Wei Wuxian whirls around. “Don’t you dare.”

“Fucking watch me,” Mo Xuanyu shouts back at him.

Wei Wuxian suddenly snickers, and then grins at Mo Xuanyu. “That’s it, kid, you just graduated to brother status. I’m calling you Yu-gege forever.”

“I’m ten, you’re eighteen. It will confuse everyone. Also, what the fuck? I just yelled at you and now you’re friendly?”

“It won’t confuse anyone who matters,” Wei Wuxian says, settling down. “And you should understand that I grew up with a brother who expresses nearly every emotion with angry shouting and occasional punching. Oh, kid, don’t look like that, I gave as good as I got. Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen were just… there was a lot of yelling. He never quite figured out another way to be.”

“Neither did you, apparently. I was raised to keep my head down and try not to get noticed. It feels very weird to shout at someone.”

“Good though, yeah?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Do you want me to play for Wen Ning today?”

“Yeah. I wish Lan Zhan was here though. He’s got like, this whole repertoire of differently nuanced calming and healing guqin pieces, and a staggeringly large core. Your playing is good, and it helps, but…”

“I have never aspired to be as good as a Twin Jade,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It doesn’t hurt my feelings. Zewu-Jun played for us frequently. That’s how I picked it up. He was teaching my brother a lot of it.”

“Did your brother teach you the dizi?” Wei Wuxian asks as they head back to the settlement. 

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. “That was Su-zongzhu.”

“Who?” Wei Wuxian asks. 

“Su She, courtesy Minshan, sect leader of the Moling Su. Founded… oh, this year? According to Su-zongzhu, he was cruelly cast out from Gusu Lan because the outer disciples were not allowed into the Cold Pond Cave when Wen Xu attacked Cloud Recesses, and with a sword to his throat he was forced to explain that it was the headbands that allowed the inner disciples in.” 

“I have no memory of him.” Wei Wuxian says. 

“If we ever have the misfortune to see him, I’ll point him out to you. Anyway, he taught me the basics of demonic cultivation. He does a few tricks very well, but has no creativity or imagination. Like, he’s strong, sure, but I learned pretty quickly not to show him any of my own initiative. He ranted a lot about how everyone just bowed at the feet of Hanguang-Jun, when he’d been off building a sect from scratch. I’m not sure how ‘scratch’ it was, he learned everything at Gusu Lan, but he never finished there. And in the early years he spent most of his time at Jinlintai, kissing up to my brother for favors.” 

They play for Wen Ning. 

Mo Xuanyu is fascinated by the Yinhufu, and how Wei Wuxian uses it to draw off resentful energy. He doesn’t touch it, as he’s been warned, but it has a presence that is undeniable. 

“How strongly can you isolate it?” Mo Xuanyu asks, when they stop for a break.

“Most people can’t feel it through a qiankun pouch, but the Yin iron could sense other Yin iron even through a pouch.”

“Have you used it to try to find Xue Yang’s piece? Or is it Xue Yang’s piece? He was never sure.”

He’s stopped referring to Jin Guangyao as his brother, usually, but he also doesn’t like to call him by name. Wei Wuxian usually can pick up on when he’s talking about him though.

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “I never… no. And wow, I feel stupid now, we literally used a piece to track where other pieces had even been. This one isn’t that piece, though. It isn’t like the other ones. It was a sword first.”

“You made the amulet when?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“I… it was here, but it was different, here, then. You know the places we concentrate the resentful energy along the border? More like that, but everywhere, and I didn’t know how to control it yet. The sword… I don’t know how I did it, I just know that it worked. It was an act of will, but honestly I’m not sure if it was mine or the metal’s.”

The next day, Mo Xuanyu tells Wei Wuxian of what he knows of how Wen Ning woke up. Wen Qing did not see all of it, but the other Wen did, and he has seen it from several perspectives. 

“It’s worth trying before he’s fully awake,” Wei Wuxian says, and so they do, changing out the talismans, allowing Mo Xuanyu to cleanse away most of the resentment actively while Wen Qing’s needles are in place and Wei Wuxian applies new talismans, rapid fire. Wen Ning is quieter, at least, when they’re done, but he’s not yet awake. 

“It will come,” Wei Wuxian says. “You saw it.”

Two days later, Jiang Wanyin shows up at the wards, but can’t break through, because they’re not just resentful energy now. 

They feel the attempt, however.

Mo Xuanyu and Wei Wuxian look at each other, and Mo Xuanyu says, “Let’s bring A-Yuan.”

“I should go alo—“

“He needs to see you with two children at your side. His cultivators need to see it,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Mo Xuanyu asks A-Yuan if he wants to go meet a new shushu. 

“Not a gege?” A-Yuan asks.

“I’m going to tell him I birthed you myself, so you should call me Diedie this time,” Wei Wuxian tells A-Yuan. “I want to see the look on his face.”

A faint bellow echoes against the mountain. 

“Aiya, can he not just wait?” Wei Wuxian whines.

“He’s loud,” A-Yuan says reproachfully.

“Call Xian-gege Diedie and I bet the loud man will buy you toys,” Mo Xuanyu says.

A-Yuan considers that, then holds his hands up. 

Wei Wuxian picks him up, tucks him against his hip, and walks with Mo Xuanyu down the narrow path.

Jiang Wanyin stands with eight disciples at the gate, frowning at the ward. 

“We worked hard on those,” says Wei Wuxian. “Gotta keep the nasties away from my children.”

Jiang Wanyin blinks at Wei Wuxian through the ward, at the toddler in his arms, at the slim boy standing next to him. “You’re eighteen. Did you get someone knocked up when you were gone those three months? Or, no, he’s too old.”

“I birthed him myself, didn’t I, A-Yuan.” 

“Xian-gege is Diedie,” A-Yuan says, quite seriously. “For today.”

Mo Xuanyu giggles at the twin looks of consternation on both Jiang Wanyin’s and Wei Wuxian’s faces.

“He was one of the people Xian-gege rescued,” Mo Xuanyu says. “They weren’t feeding him enough in the camps, and his grandmother had to carry him on her back while carrying a spirit lure for the Jins’ demonic cultivation experiments.”

Jiang Wanyin stares at him, aghast. “Their… My sister is at Lanling right now.”  

“She’s safe enough, for the moment, but she won’t be if the Jin are allowed to keep persecuting your brother and the poor people they shouldn’t have imprisoned in the first place.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Jiang Wanyin says to Mo Xuanyu. 

“I’ll tell you, but only if you come sit down. Xian-gege gets tired if he’s standing too long, because of his core.” Mo Xuanyu ignores the betrayed look Wei Wuxian gives him.

“Da-shixiong, are you okay?” calls out one of the Jiang disciples.

“Look what you’ve done now, you little hellion,” Wei Wuxian mutters. Then he sighs and says, “I’m living on a mountain of corpses trying to keep a bunch of innocent people safe and farm food on cursed soil while the cultivation world is out to get me. It’s honestly the best time I’ve had in years.”

“You’re not raising an army?” one of the Jiang asks.

“I am an army. Why would I need to raise one? I don’t even like being an army. I just want to grow potatoes in peace, and Wen Qing won’t even let me plant them.”

“Are you married, Da-shixiong?” another disciple asks.

“Aiya, all these questions! Look, put your weapons away, promise not to hurt anyone, and I mean anyone, and I’ll open the ward for you to come see for yourselves.”

Half the disciples tuck their weapons away instantly. 

Jiang Wanyin looks at the others, sighs, and says, “You lot stand guard down here. Inform anyone who asks that I am assessing the situation.”

The disciples look warily at the seething wall of blackness to either side of the wardstone gate.

“It’s not like that inside, and it won’t come out unless you attack the wards hard enough to damage them. The wards are as much to keep that in as to keep you out,” Mo Xuanyu says to them. 

Jiang Wanyin stares at him, then shakes his head and says, “Regardless, sentries, take position. The rest of you, with me.”

“You sound more commanding than Jiang-shushu ever did,” Wei Wuxian says to Jiang Wanyin as they walk up the path. “Good job, I’m proud of you.”

“No thanks to you,” Jiang Wanyin mutters.

“Careful, Jiang-zongzhu, you may eat those words someday,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Who the fuck are you, kid?”

“Why does Angry-shushu-gege say fuck?” A-Yuan asks Wei Wuxian.

“See what you’ve done?” Wei Wuxian says to Jiang Wanyin. “He’s going to be saying that at the worst possible times from now on. You have to watch your language around small children.”

“Your brother should sit down before he falls over,” Mo Xuanyu says, and takes A-Yuan from Wei Wuxian. “Answers after he sits. A-Yuan, there are some words that grownups are allowed to say when they are angry or upset that little children should not say. Because you do not know what those words mean yet, and it is unwise to say words of strong feeling without knowing exactly what they mean.” 

Qin Su had said something very similar to Jin Rusong, before— 

“What’s fuck mean, Gege?” A-Yuan asks.

“You will learn when you are a much bigger boy than you are right now. In the meantime, assume it means, ‘I’m having very strong feelings about this and I haven’t figured out a better way of expressing myself than swearing,’” Mo Xuanyu says. 

Wei Wuxian makes an abrupt, spluttering snortgiggle and elbows Jiang Wanyin. 

“Seriously, where did you find the big one?” Jiang Wanyin mutters at Wei Wuxian.

“He asked politely to come in and explained everything that was going to go wrong in the next couple years,” Wei Wuxian says.

“He looks like he could be your kid brother.”

“Ah, I’m collecting didis, but you’ll always be the first, Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Wanyin makes a grumble of protest, but his heart isn’t in it.

They emerge from the forest into the settlement.

The Wens look up, and then freeze.

“I promised to protect you,” Wei Wuxian says. “He wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust him.”

Wen Qing comes over, bows impeccably, and says, “Jiang-zongzhu.”

“Wen-daifu.”

She straightens. “Come this way, the dining area is probably the best place to sit.” She eyes Wei Wuxian. “You overdid it?”

“A-Yuan is heavy,” Wei Wuxian whines at her. 

“You’re not even carrying him,” she says, pushing him in the direction of the main communal area. 

Mo Xuanyu hands A-Yuan to Popo and follows.

The Jiang follow them, looking around with interest at the sharp contrast between the remains of the Xue palace and the simple huts the Wen spend most of their time in. 

“You’re gardening here? Is it safe?” Jiang Wanyin asks.

“The talismans your brother has developed could revolutionize farming in previously haunted or tainted areas,” Mo Xuanyu says as Wei Wuxian sits down with a resigned look at Wen Qing, who already has needles out.

“Who are you?” Jiang Wanyin asks Mo Xuanyu. “He’s sitting. Explain.”

Mo Xuanyu bows. “Mo Yu, courtesy Xuanyu. Son of Mo Xiuying and Jin Guangshan. If you can’t promise to not share my whereabouts with Jin Guangshan or Jin Guangyao or anyone who would be likely to tell them where I am, I will curse you with a tiny forgetting spell and you will no longer remember my name.”

“Another Jin bastard? That man…” one of the disciples says.

“Oh, I agree,” Mo Xuanyu says. “My mother was sixteen when I was born. He came around a lot until I was about four, and then just never came back.”

“You couldn’t curse me, my core is too strong, and you’re too young,” Jiang Wanyin says. 

Wei Wuxian holds out a hand and says, “Do not take that as a challenge, Yu-gege.”

“What, you think this child could curse me?” Jiang Wanyin says with a snort. “You haven’t spent enough time with me lately, my core is much stronger than it was a few years ago.”

“So you did notice that,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Mo Yu, if you tell him…”

“What, Wei Wuxian? You’ll do exactly what? Exact the vengeance of the Yiling Laozu on a ten-year-old?” Mo Xuanyu says. “Not your style. He needs to know.”

“You’re about as much a ten-year-old as I am an evil sorcerer,” Wei Wuxian mutters.

“What the FUCK are you talking about,” Jiang Wanyin says, voice flat, Zidian starting to crackle.

Wen Qing stands up. “I must beg for your forgiveness, Jiang-zongzhu.”

“Wen Qing! No!” Wei Wuxian says. “You promised!”

“He will take it better from me, and he must hear it. You know he must, to save us all. I wouldn’t have promised if I’d known…”

And Wei Wuxian puts his face in his hands, suddenly quiet, shoulders shaking.

Jiang Wanyin stares at her, and says, “What.”

“Baoshan Sanren did not repair your core. At Wei Wuxian’s request, I gave you his.”

Jiang Wanyin staggers at that, shaking his head. The Jiang disciples’ jaws drop. A tear rolls down his shocked face.

“By request, she means he begged her until she gave in,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He has not had a core since two days after you parted at the foot of the mountain. He did not have a core when he was beaten and thrown into the Burial Mounds by Wen Chao.”

“You really lived here? Without a core?” Jiang Wanyin says, his voice soft and broken. “Why would you do that to yourself? For me?”

“I couldn’t watch you die,” Wei Wuxian says through his hands. He looks up from his hands, and says, “I promised to be by your side, and help you, and I’m sorry I can’t do that now, but I gave you everything I had in order to make sure you could be the clan leader you were always meant to be.”

Jiang Wanyin sags, sits on one of the low log sections they use as chairs for those with bad knees. “Your cultivation method…”

“A matter of survival. That’s all I use it for now. Defense, keeping the Burial Mounds livable. Xuanyu helps. He…” Wei Wuxian looks up at Mo Xuanyu and Mo Xuanyu nods. “He grew up, went to Jinlintai, they taught him a bastardized version of demonic cultivation.”

Mo Xuanyu chuckles. “Literally bastardized.”

Jiang Wanyin snorts, and then says, “Wait, he’s ten.”

“Right, I’m getting to that. His father came and claimed him when he was fourteen, and when he didn’t develop more than a rudimentary core, let Jin Guangyao guide his education to my notes, which were looted from here after my death, two years from now.”

“Your death… two… what…”

“Just listen, Jiang Cheng, I’m getting there. Anyway, ever since Lotus Pier I wanted to figure out if I could go back and fix it. In time, that is. I got close, but I failed. He… when he was almost twenty, after his father died—“

“Pretty sure my half-brother had him killed, by the way,” Mo Xuanyu interrupts.

“—after his father died, Mo Xuanyu uncovered some other terrible things that Jin Guangyao had done, and tried to warn one of the affected parties, and Jin Guangyao had him thrown down the stairs and carted back home.”

“I didn’t go,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I came here, instead, and found some of the notes the Jin had missed. Then when you and Hanguang-Jun came to investigate, I fled to Nightless City. Where I found the ghost of your sister, trying to put your brother’s spiritual cognition back together, because he didn’t just jump off a cliff, he activated a damaged talisman on the way down, and it…”

Wei Wuxian puffed out his cheeks and mimed an explosion.

“How did she…” 

“It’s a terrible story, worse when you know that it was orchestrated to give Lanling Jin more power,” Wen Qing says. “Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun were killed, your brother was blamed, we thought if we turned ourselves in, they’d stop persecuting him, they killed us all, and he went mad in his grief and defended himself when they came after him. She was trying to stop it, and was attacked. Deliberately, I suspect.”

“How do you know?” Jiang Wanyin asks Wen Qing.

“We’ve been discussing this for weeks now,” Wen Qing says. “From what Mo Xuanyu has said, Lanling Jin is working at this moment at developing several demonic cultivators. One of those became proficient enough to instruct Mo Xuanyu in the technique, and works very closely with Jin Guangyao.”

“You’re saying that sycophant decided to off his brother and my sister? What, like Jin Guangshan would ever make him heir?”

“He had no say in the matter. Jin Guangyao was a hero of the Sunshot campaign. And the only other potential heir other than Jin Ling was me,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Jin Guangyao became Jin-zongzhu, and Xiandu eventually. And was still grasping for power.”

Jiang Wanyin looks thoughtful, and Mo Xuanyu says, “Anyway, I spent years studying Wei Wuxian’s notes, artifacts, and techniques. I did Empathy with your sister’s spirit, and she showed me so much. She showed me you, as a small boy, and she showed me your brother’s arrival at Lotus Pier, how sad and angry you were over the loss of your dogs, how you hurt yourself going out to bring him home. She showed me how your parents treated you both, which, honestly, they may not have been philandering power-hungry narcissists, but wow. You all deserved so much better. Your sister said to tell you she understands, and she’s proud of what you’ve accomplished, but she asks that you do not abandon your brother, not for anything, not even if he asks.”

“So that was in the future?”

Mo Xuanyu’s words come out in a rush. “My past, your potential future, but yes. I stayed with your sister’s spirit and the spirits of the people around us for several years at Nightless City, learning. Eventually Nie Huaisang found us, because his brother’s corpse had been stolen by my brother. Nie-zongzhu and I worked together on time travel for a while. We each had our own approaches. He was rather committed to his, and I knew it wouldn’t work… but he wouldn’t listen. My mother… I had to go home at one point because of my mother, and she died, and he came to me there, and he used it and it killed him without sending his spirit anywhere. I used mine, and mine worked. Once I had the technique worked out, I came back to age ten, ran away, and came here to learn as much as I can.”

“Why now? Why not—“ Jiang Wanyin waves his hand—“before?”

“I’m ten. The other potential jumps we identified involved going back to age eight, just before Sunshot or age seven, at the earliest. I’m going to try age eight, next, because I couldn’t save Wen Ning from what happened this round, but I wanted to talk to you, to your brother, to as many people as I can before I make that jump, so it has the best possible chance of working. The farther I go back, the harder it will be on my body, and little A-Yuan will not have been conceived if I go back too far. He’s very important to people who matter to me.”

“A-Yuan? The toddler?” 

“He became the son of Hanguang-Jun, and heir to the Lan clan, and the only survivor of Qishan Wen.”

“You tell me this, now, aren’t you afraid I’d do something to stop that?” Jiang Wanyin says, low and threatening.

Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t move fast enough to stop me from jumping, and you won’t remember this conversation if I do. And you’re curious, and your brother would never forgive you.”

 “This kid is just as much of a smartass as you are, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Wanyin says dryly. 

“This kid is about six years older than we are. You should call him gege,” Wei Wuxian shoots back.

“Please don’t,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“So you’re here, with these people—“ Jiang Wanyin starts. 

“These innocents, and the people who saved our lives after Lotus Pier, the ones responsible for you having a golden core at all.”

“Please tell me you can fix that,” Jiang Wanyin says to Mo Xuanyu.

“If I had managed to get here in time for Wen Ning to survive, eventually I would have given the talisman to Wei Wuxian so that he could go back a few days to restart his core. I’d have gone back earlier this time, but no one told me he lost his core. As it is, it’s very, very risky for me to let anyone else use the talisman, because I have so much memorized that is essential to making the correct changes. If I succeed, your sister will live and your brother will have his core. I might even be able to save your parents. We might be able to win the war early, as well, and save far more of Wen Qing’s family. But I need time to learn, time to study. There are things that Wei Wuxian knows about the war that no one else could tell me. There are things you know, that Hanguang-Jun might know, that could change everything.”

“I don’t want to abandon my brother. I don’t know how to help these people,” Jiang Wanyin says. “Our clan is so small right now, so weak…”

“Bullshit,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I knew you, before, and even without Wei Wuxian you were one of the strongest clan leaders. People flocked to you, to rebuild the clan, and were loyal enough that you could go to Lanling several times a month without repercussions. And if Wei Wuxian is part of your clan, and is seen as part of your clan, well, he’s an army all by himself, isn’t he?”

“With demonic cultivation,” Jiang Wanyin says, looking rueful.

“With the ghostly path,” Mo Xuanyu corrects, “Which is not demonic cultivation. He is not doing what Wen Ruohan did. He is not turning living people into puppets and controlling them. The opposite, in fact. He is not fostering resentment, but ameliorating it. He’s taken the greatest weapon this world has ever known and turned it into a healing tool. And you know how the Burial Mounds look from outside?”

“Foreboding and dark and very, very evil,” Jiang Wanyin says. 

“They used to be like that everywhere. Yiling looks to Yunmeng Jiang now, and the Burial Mounds are a threat to Yunmeng Jiang, and your brother has managed, between his first stay here and the past month, to make it habitable. The only reason the barrier is the way it is—“

“Protection,” Jiang Wanyin says. “So he’s not raising an army of the dead, he’s cleansing an ancient burial ground to protect Yunmeng Jiang…”

“He could be doing it with your support. You’d look very wise, and the people in the surrounding areas will be exceedingly grateful.”

“And the Wen?”

“Your brother was approached by an old friend who had saved his brother’s life, and asked to find another old friend who was in mortal peril. When he got there, he found evidence of horrific abuse, and in his grief at the treatment of his friend, not realizing his friend was still barely alive, he enabled his friend to respond in kind to the people who had wounded him. Only, their deaths were much faster and cleaner. When he realized his friend was not quite dead, he couldn’t let the resentment go, or the life would be lost, so instead he took all the people who were still there, all innocent, and brought them to the only place he knew no one else would want. But that’s not what you’re going to tell people.”

“Oh?” Jiang Wanyin says, too interested to argue.

“You’re going to tell them that your brother was right to stop the Jin guards from murdering innocents, which they were doing at that very moment, but that you recognize the harm the Wen clan has done. One of those harms was to neglect the Burial Mounds and add to its resentment by throwing bodies and living cultivators in to die horribly. Their work here is fixing that, and it is a far more appropriate task than whatever the hell they were doing at Qiongqi Dao. And you’ll tell them with A-Yuan on your brother’s hip.”

“I cannot take my brother there now. They’ll kill him,” Jiang Wanyin says. 

Wen Qing says, “Bring Jiang Yanli and Hanguang-Jun here first. We won’t be safe until Jin Guangshan is out of power, but we might be able to make it politically inexpedient for him to take action.”

“Jin Zixuan is probably asking her to marry him as we speak,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’d suggest bringing him, if you think he can keep a secret, but that wasn’t the impression I was given…”

Both Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian snort at the same time. 

Wei Wuxian says, “No, he’s… he’s not the worst, I guess, but he’s not subtle.”

“They’re asking about the Yinhufu,” Jiang Wanyin says. “Jin Guangshan will not take no for an answer.”

“When the Wens are safe, I’ll destroy it, and not before,” Wei Wuxian says. “It will never, under any circumstances, be in Jin Guangshan’s hands. It would probably kill him on contact, and people would blame me. And having that much resentment added to Lanling Jin would be dangerous for everyone, just like it was dangerous to have all that Yin iron at Nightless City. I suspect that even the piece at Cloud Recesses had an effect there. I’m literally the only safe place for it to be, because I don’t want to use it for power, and I understand it.”

“Besides,” Wen Qing adds, “why should Lanling Jin take a Yunmeng Jiang spiritual tool? Are they going to demand Zidian next, just because you spark when you get angry?”

“Could you imagine if they demanded Wangji on the grounds that Chord Assassination is too dangerous?” Wei Wuxian asks. “The only person who has any say over my spiritual tools is… my clan leader. Why should Jin Guangshan usurp your authority other than to make you look weak?”

“Well, he does really want to use it,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Or command its use. I don’t think he grasps that if my brother had that power right now he’d turn his father into a puppet. It’s the fact that the Yin iron can compel a living human that makes it interesting to him.”

“Which is exactly why neither of them must ever have it,” says Wei Wuxian. “I just want to grow potatoes and buy a donkey and live in peace.”

“You were going to be my right hand man,” Jiang Wanyin says sadly, without any hint of reprobation.

“He can do your clan a huge favor by cleansing this place,” Wen Qing says. “It would be my family’s honor to help.”

“I will… I will try,” Jiang Wanyin says. “I make no promises that they will listen.”

“Can you at least get Jiang Yanli out of there until the situation stabilizes?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “I’m afraid they’ll hold her hostage if it comes down to it.”

“What would have happened, next, if you hadn’t come?” Jiang Wanyin asks Mo Xuanyu. 

“Your brother would have told you to stop protecting him and to tell the other clans he’d defected.”

“No one would believe that,” Jiang Wanyin says.

“Well, they did when you had a duel and stabbed him and he broke your arm, tomorrow. Keep in mind, you didn’t know he didn’t have a core when you stabbed him.”

Jiang Wanyin wags his finger at Wei Wuxian and his mouth tightens. “This is why you don’t hide things from your brother! You would let me stab you? Did he even survive?”

“He survived that. It was later that he died, after your sister…”

Jiang Wanyin puts his head in his hands. “Of course. Just… UGH. Fine. Stay with your Wens, for now. Do your thing, here. I’ll… I’ll bring Jiejie. And you said Hanguang-Jun?” 

“I think he needs to know, sooner than later,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Why?” Jiang Wanyin asks. 

“Because he grieved like a widower when Wei Wuxian died. He tried to save him. He looked… broken when it happened. He rescued A-Yuan and adopted him as his own.” Mo Xuanyu sighs. “I don’t know anyone else the clans would consider as unimpeachable. And I need to know what he knows.”

“How do you know what he looked like, weren’t you still a kid?” Jiang Wanyin asks.

“Your sister died just before that, and she was so fixated on saving Wei Wuxian that her spirit followed him over the cliff he threw himself off of. When he, er, used the talisman, she spent the next ten years picking up the pieces, and was still doing it when I reversed time. She showed me what she saw.”

“How… she had a spirit calming ceremony… why didn’t she move on?”

“I’m not sure there’s any level of ‘calming’ that would overcome her level of determination to protect you two,” Mo Xuanyu says. “She wasn’t weak-minded, her priorities were just different.”

Wen Qing stands from where she’s been helping Wei Wuxian, and says, “Jiang-zongzhu, if I may check your meridians, I’d like to make sure all is well. The surgery I did… had never been done before. It would be scientifically helpful…”

“You had your hands in my belly,” he says flatly.

“I did, yes, briefly,” she says.

“Call me Wanyin,” he says. 

“Wanyin,” she says. “May I please check your meridians?”

He sighs, and sticks out his left arm. 

She wraps her hand around his, and then puts two fingers of her opposite hand to his wrist, and closes her eyes.

She tips her head to one side, furrows her brow, lifts her fingers, and then sends a bright sunset spark of energy into his wrist for a moment, and then sets his hand on his knee. 

“One of your meridians was slightly misaligned. I fixed it. It might reduce your general irritation level,” she says. 

One of the Jiang disciples lets out a not-quite-effectively stifled giggle. 

“Not having this unholy mess would reduce my irritation level,” he mutters, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s staring at one of her hands.

“Just remember that none of this would have happened if Jin Guangshan was not a power-hungry lying asshole,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Is your mother dead?” Jiang Wanyin asks.

Mo Xuanyu blinks. “No. I… before I started, she died… she died screaming at me… I couldn’t… I try not to think about her.”

“Is she safe?” Wen Qing asks.

“I… they don’t treat her very well, but they didn’t kill her,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I can’t… I can’t do what I’m doing and be with her, here.”

“I could bring her to Lotus Pier,” Jiang Wanyin says. “Just to keep her out of Jin Guangshan’s way. If she panics and goes to him about not being able to find you…”

Mo Xuanyu pales. “My brother would pretend that the Yiling Laozu kidnapped me, as leverage over my father, if he knew.”

“I’ll look into it,” Jiang Wanyin says. “What about Wen Ning? You said he was alive, they said you turned him into a fierce corpse.”

Wei Wuxian strokes his nose. “I thought he was dead, so that’s not completely inaccurate, but I wasn’t directing him, I just gave him permission to attack the ones who wronged him. And he stopped as soon as I stopped him, when Wen Qing told me he still had a thread of life. I patched him up with resentful energy long enough for us to escape, and we’ve been trying to heal him ever since. We’re—I think we’re almost there.”

“Let me see him,” Jiang Wanyin says. 

“Give Wei Wuxian your sword and Zidian first,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You trust him with them.”

“But you don’t trust me,” Jiang Wanyin says.

“You have a hot temper and poor impulse control,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I think it would be better if you didn’t have the chance to do something you’ll regret later.”

Jiang Wanyin huffs out a breath and says, “Fine,” thrusting his sheathed sword at Wei Wuxian and then Zidian.

They move through the palace, back to the bower where Wen Ning lies, covered in talismans. 

“He’s been like this for a month?” Jiang Wanyin asks, looking at the pale skin, the thin tracery of black lines. “You’re sure he’s not…”

“I promised Wen Qing that he would wake up with his spiritual cognition restored. Mo Xuanyu says I succeed.”

“I mean, he was still pretty fierce-corpsey,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Wen Qing’s memories of him afterwards were that he was incredibly strong and fast, but did not require food or sleep, and that he was still kind and affectionate to his family. I raised enough corpses to know that none of them were capable of direct speech or anything more than abject rage.”

“Isn’t it weird to have all these other people’s memories?” Jiang Wanyin asks, looking appalled.

“They chose what to show me,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I just listened and paid attention. I wasn’t forcing anything. People want to be heard. I don’t know everything Wen Qing ever felt, just the things she really wanted me to know. She hid the core transfer from me, and that really would have changed some of my decisions.” He frowns at Wei Wuxian, who puts up his hands. 

“I just didn’t… I don’t want Jiang Cheng to feel obligated, I didn’t do it for recognition, I just wanted him to be okay.”

“When you’re not okay, I’m not okay, asshole,” Jiang Wanyin snaps at him. “It won’t matter, if you get it back eventually.” Then he looks at Mo Xuanyu and asks, “How long are you thinking about waiting?”

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head, saying, “I don’t know, I really… I have so much to learn. It might be a few years, or maybe I change something and this place gets attacked tomorrow and I have to make it and use it then.”

“Or I figure it out and push the issue,” Wei Wuxian says, narrowing his eyes.

“Look, I need to know how much stays the same, how much we can change…” Mo Xuanyu says, voice urgent, “If things keep going the way they would have gone in spite of us, then there’s going to be less point in bothering to go back. If they change a lot, for better or worse, it’s probably worth trying. I need to know what to change. Please, you only know a fraction of what I have memorized right now. I spent years learning everything you haven’t even finished yet. We’re going to be able to leapfrog to the next things, if you'll be patient.”

“Ugh, fine, fine, I’ll wait.” 

Jiang Wanyin looks around and frowns. “If this is going to be an official Jiang project, you’re going to need help, and better facilities. What have you even been eating?”

“I brought food when I came, and money,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“How… no, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know how a ten-year-old gets enough money to feed a couple dozen people for a month.”

“There are people in town who will buy my talismans when I run out,” Mo Xuanyu says, pulling out a handful of them. “Here are some samples. This one detects counterfeit coin. Well, it lights up money according to metal content, which is the same thing. This one blocks low-level curses for about half a li around it, and repels low-level yao and spirits. I think it will work for about a year, and can be recharged.” 

He pauses for a moment, and then a talisman appears in his hand. “This is what I call a don’t-look-here. It just makes people not notice you. So I can go down into town, shop, duck into an alley, activate it, and no one sees me coming back here. They all think my popo lives in the hills somewhere around here.” 

Jiang Cheng blinks at him, looks at the talismans, looks at Wei Wuxian, and says, “These look a lot like something you’d come up with.”

“All my best tricks are built up from his foundations,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He just hasn’t written them down yet.”

“Okay, I am going to leave enough manpower here that this kid is going to have nothing to do but write,” Jiang Wanyin says. “Volunteers?”

“I’ll stay,” one of the older disciples says. 

“We all will,” says another. “Cleansing the Burial Grounds? Bringing Da-shixiong back? Count me in.”

“Right.” Jiang Wanyin opens a qiankun bag, looks thoughtful, and then pulls out another bag, and tosses it to Wen Qing. “You’re more sensible about money than he is. Use this to hire whatever you need. Send my men to buy supplies. No one from this place should leave until I tell you it’s safe.”

She looks at the pouch in her hands, takes a deep, shuddering breath, and nods.

Things change quickly. Sturdier houses are begun. Fodder is purchased and a couple of goats. Four more cultivators means any spiritual energy work can be delegated. 

Three days after Jiang Wanyin leaves, Wen Ning wakes up, with Wen Qing at his side, while Mo Xuanyu and Wei Wuxian play an eerie duet, one pulling resentful energy away, the other cleansing. It is a peaceful awakening, but no one is quite sure if Wen Ning is entirely alive, although he doesn’t appear to be entirely undead either, much as Mo Xuanyu had seen in Empathy. 

The Jiang disciples are unsettled but impressed. 

A celebration happens that evening, festive and bright, with A-Yuan sitting on his “Gui-shushu” to eat dumplings. Wen Qing is actually smiling. 

“Looks like some change is possible, eh, Didi?” Wei Wuxian says to Mo Xuanyu. 

“I thought I was Gege,” Mo Xuanyu shoots back. “We’ll see. If everyone is still alive in ten years…”

After a week and a half, Jiang Wanyin returns bearing Jiang Yanli, with Lan Wangji flying alongside, giving an awkward ride to Nie Huaisang. 

They are met at the wardstones by Wei Wuxian, Mo Xuanyu, and Wen Ning.

“Fuck, you did it,” breathes Jiang Wanyin. 

“Language,” Jiang Yanli says reflexively. “Wen Qionglin? Are you…”

Wen Ning gives a stiff, awkward bow and says, “I’m not sure what I am, but I’m able to help, and I’m here, and that’s enough.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, eyes wide.

“Aiya, I just brought his spiritual cognition back together and cleaned out all the spirits that were fighting to possess him, and Yu-gege helped cleanse the resentment. Might have gone faster if you were here sooner, Lan Zhan.”

“Just,” Jiang Yanli says with a laugh. “Only you, A-Xian. Are you going to introduce us to this young man?”

“Ah, that’s my newest didi, Mo Xuanyu,” Wei Wuxian says. “He showed up a few days after we got here, and well, we’re keeping him.”

Lan Wangji looks up at the perimeter of seething resentful energy and frowns. “Wei Ying?” 

“It’s fine, come in, you’ll see. It’s not like that where we’re living.” Wei Wuxian brushes his nose. “If Jin Guangshan pulls his head out of his ass we might manage to cleanse the whole thing.”

“Good luck, I think he lives there,” Nie Huaisang says, stepping out from behind Lan Wangji.

“Hey, Nie-xiong!” Wei Wuxian says with a grin. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“It sounded interesting, and well, Da-ge has been stomping around wondering what the hell you’re doing up here, so I thought that if I… hey, are you okay, kid?”

Mo Xuanyu stares at Nie Huaisang with tears streaming down his face. He opens his mouth, shuts it, and runs back up toward the settlement.

He stumbles, looks back, hears—

“Oh god, he hasn’t seen you since…” Wei Wuxian claps a hand over his mouth.

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes go wide. “Shit, I didn’t even think… Ugh, okay. We need to get up to the settlement and start explaining things.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never met him before, I don’t understand…” Nie Huaisang flicks open his fan. 

Mo Xuanyu gets back to his feet and runs.

“Just… Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, grabbing Lan Wangji by the wrist and dragging him up the path.

Wen Qing looks up when they arrive. Mo Xuanyu is sobbing on Popo while A-Yuan pats his leg.

Wen Qing glances back down at Mo Xuanyu with a furrowed brow and then tells them, “I’ll come explain, at least until he’s calmed down and can tell you himself.”

The dining room has a better floor now, and cushions to kneel on, and seats for the arthritic. She pulls a seat up and sits down.

“I’ll make tea,” Wen Ning says, and removes himself to the fire to boil water.

“Okay, the first thing I have to say,” Wei Wuxian starts, “is that we’ve already managed to prove that the future is changeable. What we’re about to tell you is going to be deeply upsetting, but it’s important that you know what’s going on here and what we’re trying to change.”

Wen Qing nods. “It’s also important that you understand that Mo Xuanyu has managed to persuade Wei Wuxian, myself, and Jiang Wanyin that he is telling the truth about what we’re about to tell you. There are things he knows that no ten-year-old child could possibly know. He has the core of a strong adult cultivator. He knows more about demonic cultivation than Wei Wuxian, and says he learned it as a teenager, at the request of his older brother.”

“Who—” Nie Huaisang starts.

“How…” Lan Wangji says.

At the exact same time, Jiang Yanli asks, “Why?”

Wei Wuxian smiles. “How… he traveled in time using a talisman I haven’t designed yet, but have been thinking about.”

Stunned silence. 

Wen Qing says, “His older brother, in this case, refers to Jin Guangyao, although he is obviously Jin Zixuan’s brother as well. He never met Jin Zixuan while he was alive, in his first lifetime.”

“A young woman came to Jinlintai a few weeks ago to beg for Jin Guangshan to help find her son who went out to play and never came back,” Jiang Yanli says. “He actually sent cultivators to look, which he doesn’t usually do. You’re saying she was his mistress? And has a ten-year-old? She must have been very young indeed when she had him.”

“Sixteen, he said,” Wen Qing says flatly.

“That man…” Jiang Yanli frowns.

“I’ve taken Mo-er-furen to Lotus Pier since then,” Jiang Wanyin says. “She’s twenty-six years old, and I’ve told her that her son is safe and that as soon as the situation is less volatile, we’ll reunite them. She’s worried but not panicked now. We told Jin Guangshan that we’d found the boy, and that he’d run away from the Mo family because he’d been abused, and that I would ensure their safety, as Lotus Pier can use all the warm bodies it can get.”

“He’s going to think you’re holding the boy hostage,” Wen Qing mutters.

“He didn’t argue,” Jiang Wanyin says. “I believe Jin Guangyao may have suggested the boy would fare better away from Jin-furen.”

“As to the why… that’s a long story,” Wei Wuxian says. 

He starts explaining. Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji both reel at the description of the second battle of Nightless City, of Jiang Yanli’s and Wei Wuxian’s deaths. He does not mention A-Yuan, not yet.

After a while, Mo Xuanyu comes in, shaky and looking anywhere but Nie Huaisang, and sits on the floor next to Wei Wuxian, who idly pets his hair soothingly as he continues talking about how Nie Huaisang came to Nightless City, looking for his brother’s corpse.

Nie Huaisang is stock still, eyes wide, mouth set.

“Do you want to explain from here?” Wei Wuxian asks Mo Xuanyu. “I’ve covered it pretty much chronologically, I think.”

“First, he should have something to drink,” Wen Qing says, handing a cup down.

After he takes a long drink of water, Mo Xuanyu climbs to his feet and says, “Wen Qing’s spirit and I went back to Qinghe with Nie… zongzhu. I stayed there for a while, and we worked together on the materials I’d generated from what I knew of Wei Wuxian’s notes. I memorized so much of the relevant history. Wen Qing would quiz me on it, so would… anyway, they would quiz me constantly, so that I would have it in my memory. My memory is excellent for dates and times and events and such. Not as perfect as my… as Jin Guangyao’s, but very good. It was pretty clear that I would have more freedom and less pursuit than Nie-zongzhu would, because Chifeng-Zun would not give a child that much freedom.”

He sighs. “He wanted to be the one to go back so he could save his father. I thought that was probably not going to work, because he would have to be too young. I think it happened before I was born? And the farther you go back, the more variables there are, the harder it is to know what will come of it. And he wanted to do it as an adult, which, I’m sorry, was never going to work, and… But my mother happened, and I was at Mo Village then, and he came, and he did it anyway, and he died.” 

His voice hitches. “The thing about time travel is that it is basically a death, a death of everything, you pay that price to go back, and while we were working together, while we were making progress and… I didn’t want it to end, it was the first time in my life that I’d been safe, and cared for, and valued, all at the same time. And he set off the talisman, and his body landed on mine, and he was just gone, and then his spirit was there, telling me I was right. Like that was any consolation.”

“I…I’m so sorry, Xuanyu,” Nie Huaisang says, softly.

“Fat lot of good that does, because I finally used my talisman for the first time, woke up, and it was a day later and I was in Qinghe and your CORPSE was on me again!” Mo Xuanyu finally looks up at Nie Huaisang, his eyes red and haunted. “I didn’t know then that there appears to be an inevitable two-day coma when you arrive.”

“I suspect it is a hurt to the head,” Wen Qing says. “And to the spiritual meridians. The spiritual cognition seems to carry a lot of spiritual energy with it when it ‘lands’, and the brain and dantian require rest to heal.”

“So I still had the original talisman on me, because in the new timeline I hadn’t used it yet, and I set the date for seven days prior to the first attempt, went back, and woke up this time with my cousin kicking me. Then you came,” he says, looking at Nie Huaisang, “And I explained that your method failed exactly as catastrophically as I’d predicted, that you’d died twice on me, and that I couldn’t take it anymore. I set the date for this time, and when you tried to take it from me, I activated it, and it worked. Wen Qing had told me to have her check me, first thing, so I came here. And I’ve been here ever since.”

“Xuanyu, I…” Nie Huaisang starts.

“You don’t call me that. You called me A-Yu. And then you died.”

“What was I… what were we to each other?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“Zhiji,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You knew me better than any other, and you said I knew you.”

“You were older then. Were we lovers?” Nie Huaisang asks.

Mo Xuanyu laughs a short, negating laugh and shakes his head. “We’re too alike, in certain ways. We were very close, but not that way. We talked about it, we just never… it wasn’t necessary. You liked buying me pretty dresses and teaching me art. I liked having someone clever who wanted to hear what I had to say, who could teach me the things no one else would ever let me learn. And then my mother died, and you died, twice, and I… you took my heart with you.”

Nie Huaisang folds his fan and tucks it away, leans forward and opens his arms. “Come, then.”

Mo Xuanyu hesitates, kneels next to him, facing him, and lets himself be held. He says, mumbling into Nie Huaisang’s shoulder, “I was always taller than you.”

“Everyone’s taller than me except San-ge,” Nie Huaisang says. “You will be again.”

“I missed you,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“I’ll try to come back as much as I can,” Nie Huaisang says. “Maybe someday you can come to Qinghe.”

“There’s so much to do here.”

Lan Wangji says, “I still have questions.”

Wei Wuxian says, “Ask. We’ll answer if we can.”

“The resentful energy… Your cultivation… I still don’t fully understand.”

Wei Wuxian brushes his nose. “Aiya, it always comes back to that.” He sighs heavily. “Wen Qing? Would you explain?”

She nods. “Hanguang-Jun, you are familiar with the abilities of Wen Zhuliu?”

He nods, and then his eyes widen and he stares at Wei Wuxian. “Did he… Your core…”

“Ah, not exactly, but the end result…”

“He gave his core to me,” Jiang Wanyin interrupts. “Wen Qing did the highly experimental surgery without my knowledge. No one asked me if I wanted my brother to gut himself for my benefit, but he did it, and so his core is here, in me.”

“And then Wen Chao caught him and threw him in the Burial Mounds,” Wen Qing says.

“I had to channel resentful energy, or die,” Wei Wuxian says. “I know it doesn’t look that bad here now, inside the wards, but then, it was like the barrier, everywhere. I think if I’d had my core at the time, I would have died quicker.”

“You said you’d died…” Lan Wangji says. “At Nightless City, you said it to Wen Ruohan.”

“I was thrown from a height with the source of the Yinhufu in my qiankun pouch. It helped, a bit, but I was very broken when I landed.”

Mo Xuanyu looks up and says, “Resentful energy makes a good bandage, stops your bones from moving, keeps you from bleeding out. But it doesn’t heal.”

“It took me a while to figure it out, but once I finally did, I was able to work with the resentment, with the spirits, rather than against them. I always strove to do the things that would eventually bring them to rest, but well, they were very angry, which, er, aligned nicely with my goals at the time. It’s not demonic, though it could be. That’s why I call it the ghostly path, not demonic cultivation. Wen Ruohan was a demonic cultivator. And Mo Xuanyu has learned both. Not that I’m letting him use them here.”

“You gave your core to your brother,” Lan Wangji says softly. “And then developed an entirely new cultivation path, and then risked everything to rescue people whose family had caused your worst hurts.”

“To be fair, Wen Ruohan had caused their worst hurts, as well,” Wei Wuxian says, looking away. “They were innocent. Anyone would…”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Jiang Wanyin says bluntly. “You see the world differently, and you don’t see your value in it.”

“Anyway, so I don’t have a core, but I’m doing okay now,” Wei Wuxian says flippantly. “And Yu-gege wants to learn as much he can from us about what we’ve experienced, to give us the best chance of getting it right the next time he goes back. 

There’s a commotion, outside, and then running feet, and then A-Yuan crashes into Wei Wuxian and says, “Want Diedie!” 

Wei Wuxian turns scarlet. “Popo put you up to this, didn’t she.” 

A-Yuan leans against him. “Diedie was gone a long time.”

Wei Wuxian softens, and wraps an arm around him. “Aiya, little radish, clearly you need more planting.”

“Who…” Lan Wangji says.

“A-Xian…” Jiang Yanli echoes.

“Ah, he’s mine, I birthed him myself,” Wei Wuxian says, mischief in his eyes. 

Lan Wangji looks momentarily pole-axed. “His mother?”

“I just told you,” Wei Wuxian says.

“He’s one of the refugees from the camp,” Jiang Wanyin says, rolling his eyes. “An orphan. He’s latched onto my brother, or maybe my brother’s latched onto him.”

Mo Xuanyu sits back up. “In my lifetime, after… Hanguang-Jun had a son. No one knew where he came from. His name was Lan Yuan, courtesy Sizhui. By the time I was twenty-four, he was the lead junior disciple of Gusu Lan, and the second heir of the clan, after Hanguang-Jun. And the top young master of his generation. I did not meet him, but his bofu was very proud of him. Most people assumed that Hanguang-Jun had been secretly married, and that his wife had died, because the boy looked so much like him. Wen Qing, the one I knew first, thought that he might have been secretly married, even though she knew he had not begotten the boy.”

Lan Wangji’s ears have gone scarlet. “That… I do not know why he would resemble me so closely.”

“The great Hanguang-Jun letting people think he’d been married?” Wei Wuxian says, teasing. “Such an untruth…”

The blush increases.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Is there someone?”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes, and says, “You’re going to have to explain it to him, Lan-er-gongzi, because he’s too thick to understand.”

Lan Wangji shoots her a desperate look.

She sighs. “Wei Wuxian, have you ever been to a Lan wedding? That you knew of?”

“What do you mean, that I knew of? No, people don’t really invite me to weddings at other clans.”

“I saw one, once. The most sacred moment of it was when they bound their wrists together with one of the forehead ribbons, and then bowed to their elders, who blessed the union.”

Wei Wuxian blanches. “Shouldn’t they both know the, um, implications of what they’re doing for it to, you know, count?”

“I did,” Lan Wangji says. “I knew you did not. I would not hold you to it, though I held myself to it as much as I could without creating a diplomatic incident that would have possibly resulted in you being forced to stay in Cloud Recesses when you did not wish to.”

“And what if I’d wanted to?” Wei Wuxian says. “What if I’d have wanted to know, wanted the choice?”

Lan Wangji blinks. “Did you want to?”

“It’s not exactly an option now,” Wei Wuxian says. “My core…” 

“The state of your core is irrelevant to me,” Lan Wangji says.

“Anyway, you just did it to save my life, not because you loved me or wanted to be my husband,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Wait, what?” Jiang Wanyin says, suddenly catching up. 

Lan Wangji ignores him and continues, “I did it to save your life. The other things… Do not make assumptions.”

Jiang Yanli laughs, and says, “A-Xian, did you go and get married and have a son and not tell your Shijie?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Wei Wuxian exclaims. “If I’d known ahead of time, I’d definitely have invited you.”

“But if you’d known ahead of time, you’d have still wanted to marry him.” It is not a question Jiang Yanli is asking.

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Lan Zhan?” he says, burying his face in A-Yuan’s hair so he doesn’t have to look at anyone. 

Most of the people in the room raise their hands.

He glances up at the silence, sees the raised hands and says, “Well, you’re all idiots, then.”

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wei Wuxian buries his face again. A-Yuan doesn’t seem to mind, reaching up and roughly patting his head. 

“You should marry me again, so I know it’s happening,” Wei Wuxian mutters. “It’s not fair.”

“He should talk to your clan leader, is what he should do,” Jiang Wanyin says abruptly, standing. “Ask permission, which he should have done in the first place.”

“It was life or death. There wasn’t time,” Wei Wuxian says, looking up at his brother.

“It’s been several years. There’s been plenty of time,” Jiang Wanyin says. “I get that he didn’t want you to be forced into something, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it correctly, now.”

Lan Wangji does not miss a beat. He kneels before Jiang Wanyin and says, “This one apologizes for taking such liberties with your head disciple, and would like permission to marry into your clan so that I may stay with my spouse, here.”

“I should talk to Zewu-Jun—” Jiang Wanyin starts.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Mo Xuanyu interrupts. 

“Excuse me?” Jiang Wanyin asks. 

“Please, let them pour tea for you here. Don’t tell Lanling Jin or Gusu Lan if we don’t have to. Tell them… tell them that Hanguang-Jun will stay and help supervise the Wen, and make certain that the Yinhufu is not being misused.” Mo Xuanyu stands. “He has kept this secret for years, would keep it years more. Zewu-Jun and Jin Guangyao are too close. If Jin Guangyao sees you strengthening ties with Gusu Lan and Wei Wuxian, he will see you as a threat, especially to his relationship with Zewu-Jun. We need time.”

“My brother needs to know what his sworn brother is capable of,” Lan Wangji says.

Mo Xuanyu winces, and says, “Not this time.” At the brewing outrage, he hurries to add, “I will be going back farther in time. On the next round, we will bring as many people together as we can to fix this, and will need to bring Chifeng-Zun and Zewu-Jun into this. But this time around… I need to understand how things happen. If I didn’t already know I was going back… I need to see what happens if we can keep Wei Wuxian from falling out with Yunmeng Jiang, if we bring Hanguang-Jun in. It’s already better. But there are things none of us could figure out about why things happened the way they did. Your brother will know, next time he’ll know early. Please…”

 “It is hard for us, only knowing what you tell us,” says Jiang Yanli gently. “We want things to be better, and you’ve already helped… But asking Lan Wangji to hide something so important from his brother is a lot. Asking Nie Huaisang, as well.”

“Oh, I keep secrets from Da-ge all the time,” Nie Huaisang says.

“Can we wait for a while, at least?” Mo Xuanyu asks, pleading.

The others look at each other, and then each of them nods. 

“Now, A-Yu, we’re really going to need to know exactly what each of us needs to be looking for,” Nie Huaisang says. There is none of his usual prevarication in his voice, just hard steel. “Whatever else, I must attempt to save my brother’s life.”

Mo Xuanyu nods. 

Jiang Wanyin squares his shoulders, and announces, “I have already told Jin Guangshan that Yiling, the Burial Mounds, and everything about Wei Wuxian and the Yinhufu are Yunmeng Jiang matters which I will deal with as I see fit.” He sighs. “He is demanding reparations for the ‘murdered’ guards. I told him that the rest of the clans would need witness reports from the victims of demonic experimentation, and that I would be willing to bring representatives of both the Nie and Lan clans here to get those reports.”

“Once I have observed to my satisfaction,” Lan Wangji adds, “I will need to report with Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang to my brother and his. As soon as I am finished, I intend to request to be posted as an observer here. If they decline, I will come anyway.”

Wei Wuxian looks alarmed. “Lan Zhan! You can’t… that’s your family.”

“Are you not my husband? Is that not your son, and therefore mine as well?” Lan Wangji asks calmly. “There is no higher responsibility in my clan than the responsibility to one’s spouse.”

Wei Wuxian gapes like a landed fish, wordless.

Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing both start laughing at the same moment. 

Lan Wangji looks at Mo Xuanyu and says, “If they attempt to detain me by force, and they might, I will need to tell my shufu the truth, at least.”

“Better do that while already standing on Bichen,” Wei Wuxian says. “If you must.”

They spend a week interviewing the Wens. It’s awful, but also necessary. Jiang Yanli has to take breaks from it; Lan Wangji’s face just grows more and more set, the more he hears. They also talk to the Jiang disciples, who have stayed, and hear a mind-numbingly and blissfully dull report of gardening and building huts and night hunting the remaining active threats in the less inhabited parts of the area.

Nie Huaisang goes to town and returns with better quality talisman paper and writing supplies, gives them to Mo Xuanyu, and says, “If you would write out copies of the most useful and immediately obvious talismans, we can present them as evidence of the good you’re doing here.”

“Would Jin Guangshan accept them as compensation for his lost cultivators?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “How many talismans for a life?”

Nie Huaisang looks thoughtful, and says, “How fast can you write them?”

“You can’t tell them it came from me,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Who would I blame but the, what did you call him? The Yiling Laozu.” Nie Huaisang smiles. “No, keeping you out of Jin hands is definitely a worthy goal.”

Wei Wuxian is subdued—Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang have gone with Jiang Wanyin to deliver their report. Subdued, but twitchy. Jiang Yanli soothes him and chats with Mo Xuanyu, who likes her even better alive. 

A-Yuan continues to call Wei Wuxian Diedie, and Wei Wuxian moves from shock through tolerance to insisting on filial piety from the boy. 

The settlement starts to look like a village, rather than a frantic attempt at survival. With more cultivators, more talismans and wards can be made. With more strong bodies, more ground can be purified and planted. With more good food, the mood of the place is hopeful. 

Mo Xuanyu talks to each of them. It’s both more and less revealing to speak to the living, who can dissemble, but who also have clearer memories. 

Wei Wuxian is the most interesting of all to Mo Xuanyu. The kinship he’d felt with the man as experienced through his notes and works is nothing compared to the brotherhood of the living man. They work together on talismans, Mo Xuanyu beginning a book of designs that he already knows, with their purposes described. Wei Wuxian says that he can see his own hand in them, but that it’s weird to see things that he knows he could design but hasn’t thought of yet. 

A full month later, they are outside the cave, arguing lightheartedly about a talisman when Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji finally return. Their first warning is a delighted shriek from A-Yuan, who flies across the clearing to wrap his arms around Lan Wangji’s thigh, bounces up and down and yells, “Baba, pick me up!”

Wei Wuxian flushes and clutches his chest, saying, “That kid…”

“I mean,” Mo Xuanyu says, “If you’re Diedie, and you’re married, he must be Baba, right?”

“Married…” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “Ridiculous. Everyone is ridiculous.”

Lan Wangji picks A-Yuan up, holds him on his left hip, and produces a grass butterfly from his sleeve.

A-Yuan gasps, takes the stick in one hand and gently touches the wings with a finger. 

“You’ll spoil him,” says Wei Wuxian, walking over.

“Good,” says Lan Wangji, with a tiny smug smile.

“What news?” Wen Qing asks.

Nie Huaisang says, “It took some doing, but we are here to, er, observe. Indefinitely. Da-ge took some persuading. So did Lan Qiren.”

“Your brother, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji.

“Brother was supportive, but I had to explain more than we had planned. I did not tell him of the time travel, but I did tell him about…” He reaches up and touches his forehead ribbon with his free hand. 

“And?” Wei Wuxian asks, cautiously. 

“And he initially tried to play it off as invalid and unnecessary, until I told him that I’d explained it to you and you’d expressed a wish to… honor the marriage in accordance with our customs. That he has a nephew. He will… he will visit soon. But he told our shufu that he trusts my judgment, that he knows that I will not lie to them about what I see here, that there could be no better, safer observer, and that I was, perhaps, the only person who might bring you back to the righteous path.” Lan Wangji looks apologetic at the last.

Wei Wuxian winces. “You didn’t tell him about…”

“It isn’t my story to tell. It is yours. It is Jiang Wanyin’s. Wen Qing’s. I told him that I believed my endeavors here might succeed in making it possible for you to return to the sword path. I did not explain that it would involve time travel.”

Wei Wuxian gapes at him. “Lan Zhan, that’s devious!”

“The rules insist that one must not lie. The rules are very clear that gossip is not to be tolerated, and thus, we are not required to elaborate the entire truth in all things at all times.”

“Marry me,” Wei Wuxian breathes.

“I already did,” Lan Wangji says serenely. “But your brother and mine will be here in a few days, and we may repeat the process then.”

Wei Wuxian blushes again, and nods. 

“I did request that he not inform anyone, especially anyone at Jinlintai,” Lan Wangji says. “He did not like it, but he did agree. There is significant discordance between what Jin Guangyao has told him and what we have described. He is already unsettled in that regard. His purported reason for joining us is that he must corroborate the story your friends have told him.”

“My brother will likely join him,” Nie Huaisang says. “He wants to see with his own eyes. He has agreed to withhold judgment until then.”

A few days later, a small train of carts makes its hesitant way up to the gates of the Burial Mounds. Another follows closely on its heels.

The cultivators and Wen Ning all carry the contents up to the settlement, and the carters leave the moment the carts are empty, looking behind themselves at the roiling blackness of the barrier to either side of the gates, and then making haste away.

One train is from Lotus Pier, and contains all of Wei Wuxian’s belongings, a tailored red wedding hanfu, a large stash of dry goods for the settlement, a small box of toys, and several qiankun pouches, one filled with money and another with herbs that are tagged for Wen Qing. A bag filled with bags of spices and jars of oils is also included. There are two bows and a supply of arrows. 

One of the bows, Wei Wuxian recognizes; the other is well crafted but obviously new. “My good bow, and… oh! This is for Wen Ning.” He holds it out. Wen Ning comes forward and takes it, handling it reverently. 

The other delivery is from Gusu, and contains clothing for Lan Wangji, including wedding robes, a large number of texts, many copied in his own hand, several child-sized instruments and a practice sword, and a large amount of the fine writing paper and talisman supplies Gusu specializes in. There is a purse of gold and silver ingots, a box of incense, and a box of Lan Wangji’s favorite tea. There is a second box of texts with a note in Lan Xichen’s hand, “For Wen Qing.” 

Lan Wangji recognizes his brother’s hand in many of the copies, and tells her, “He copied these himself for you.”

“He is recognizing you as family,” Jiang Yanli says. “As are we.”

Wen Qing blinks at the gifts and says, “But you are his sister.”

Jiang Yanli smiles, and says, “I have never found it difficult to have multiple brothers. I believe it may do my brother good to have multiple sisters.”

The last crate is opened, and it contains a number of Wen garments and two cultivators’ swords. A note inside, from Jin Zixuan, says, “I cannot do as much as I would like, right now, but please know that not all of Lanling is against you. Please let Jiang-guniang know that I still wish to protect her, and that I know my father has not been wholly truthful.”

A second note, from Lan Xichen, says, “Jin-gongzi asked me to pass these to you the next time I saw my brother. I thought this would be less conspicuous. He doesn’t know anything beyond the report that was given, except that Jiang Yanli is there, and supports you.” 

Wen Qing takes her sword gingerly from the box and runs her hand along it, then pulls the other one and hands it to her brother. 

“It might be worth bringing him in,” Jiang Yanli says. 

“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian says. “Not yet.”

Mo Xuanyu helps carry crates into Wei Wuxian’s cave, which is becoming less and less “eccentric hermit den” and more finished, comfortable abode. He’s been staying in a small house of his own for a few weeks now, a two-part building that is mostly bedroom and workshop, so the changes are striking. 

The space has been separated by walls and screens, so that the workshop may be more secured and that A-Yuan may have a place to sleep. The bedroom now sports an actual bed, not just the makeshift platform that had remained well into Mo Xuanyu’s future. And Lan Wangji’s presence is already felt in the absolute immaculate nature of the sleeping space. 

The blood pool is no longer bloody, Mo Xuanyu notes. Wei Wuxian catches him looking and says, “Yeah, I purified that so that we can actually bathe in here. It was fine when it was just me, but Lan Zhan doesn’t need the, er, ambiance. So I moved the resentment to the barrier.”

Lan Wangji, carrying a large crate by himself, murmurs, “Much appreciated.”

“The fallen statue is a lot,” Mo Xuanyu comments.

“We’re going to see if we can coax it into something a little less aggressive,” Wei Wuxian says to Mo Xuanyu. “It’s hard to relax in a bath coming out of a giant mouth.”

Three days after that, Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Jiang Wanyin arrive.

The Wen have gotten more used to visitors, and barely look up from their work at first. Wen Qing urges each of them to come to the village center, to greet the clan leaders. 

When they are all assembled, Nie Mingjue asks, “Is that everyone?”

Wen Qing looks and says, “Where’s A-Yuan?” 

Popo comes hurrying up, nudging a sleepy A-Yuan ahead of her. “Sorry, he was napping,” she says.

A-Yuan blinks at the clan leaders, and then runs up to Jiang Wanyin, holds up his hands, and says, “Shushu-gege, up.”

“Just Shushu,” Wei Wuxian says to A-Yuan. “And Lan Xichen is your baba’s older brother, so you should ask him if he prefers Bofu or Bobo.”

“Ah, Xiao-Yuan, you may call me Bobo,” Lan Xichen says quickly. 

A-Yuan ducks his head shyly against Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder. Jiang Wanyin looks extremely smug at this development. 

Lan Xichen smiles. “I’m sure A-Yuan will need a little while to be comfortable with new people.”

Jiang Wanyin offers A-Yuan a candy from a bag at his pouch with a smug look.

“No, really, this is all of them?” Nie Mingjue asks.

“I told you, Da-ge,” says Nie Huaisang. “Wen Ning and Wen Qing are the only cultivators, and they saved the Jiangs during the war. The rest never should have been in camps to begin with. That’s where Popo and A-Yuan were.”

“And Wen Qionglin?” Nie Mingjue asks. “He is a puppet now?”

“No, Nie-zongzhu,” Wen Ning says, stepping forward and bowing. “I’m no puppet. Nor a fierce corpse. We’re not quite sure what I am, but Wei-gongzi kept me from dying and brought my spiritual cognition back. I feel… my body is strange, but my mind is clearer than it’s ever been.”

“Wen Ning was the victim of a spiritual attack as a child,” Wen Qing adds. “After, he struggled with speech and was sometimes clumsy, and he became very shy. I believe that the attack made him more vulnerable to what the Jin did, but Wei Wuxian was so thorough in recalling his spiritual cognition to his body once the possessing spirits were banished that he regained things he’d lost when he was very young.”

“Wait, he was possessed when the guards were attacked?” Nie Mingjue asks.

Popo steps forward and bows and says, “He was wounded by the guards. They were making us carry spirit attraction flags, and when he protested, they beat him and drove the staff of a flag into his belly. So any possession resulting in their death…”

“Was their own fault,” Lan Xichen says softly. 

Wen Qing  looks down at her hands. “I believe that when we found Wen Ning, Wei Wuxian wrapped him in the ample resentful energy of Qiongqi Dao, and simply told him that he could take his revenge on those who had hurt him. He was already possessed at that point, all Wei Wuxian did was allow his body the freedom to move without further injury. He was not told to kill indiscriminately, and he did not.” 

“They were murdering people at that very moment,” Sishu says. “A-Ning stopped them. And some of them got away, because Wei Wuxian stopped him when A-Qing told him that A-Ning was alive.”

“And all of these people are from the Dafan Wen?” Lan Xichen asks.

“We are all Dafan Wen,” Sishu says. “None of us took part in the war. Some of our people were conscripted early on, but they… they did not return.”

“I’m satisfied,” Nie Mingjue says. “I require nothing from these people that they are not already doing.”

“The Lan are also satisfied,” Lan Xichen says. He looks around. “Wangji says resentment levels have improved drastically here?”

Wei Wuxian bows. “My cultivation method works with the spirits to help them let go more easily. Most of them find comfort in protecting these people, this place, because we treat them with respect and offer them music and something positive to do. Many of them have indicated that they will move on once they are confident that these people are safe. Many have moved on simply because we’ve stopped this place from holding them here. They would not have responded to traditional cultivation techniques before. I suspect that within the next few decades, they will.” 

“I would like to share this with Shufu, eventually,” Lan Xichen says. “He will find it intellectually fascinating.”

“Once he overcomes the urge to throw something at my head?” Wei Wuxian says wryly.

“Just so,” Lan Xichen replies with a smile. “Wangji has explained to me that you and he wish to formalize what happened in the Cold Pond Cave. You understand that this is not required? There will be no shame to either of you if you do not follow through on a promise you did not know you were making.”

Wei Wuxian takes a sharp breath and then says, “That Lan Zhan wishes to be my spouse is an honor I can never fully be worthy of, but I would very much like to try.”

“Even if it means living in this place, away from his family?” Lan Xichen asks.

“I have a job to do here,” Wei Wuxian says. “He wants to help. Should we continue to neglect this place, allow it to fester? It destroyed me once. I would prefer to make it impossible for it to destroy anyone else.”

“And will you return to the sword path?”

“I have reason to believe it may be possible, in time,” Wei Wuxian says cautiously.

Lan Xichen looks perplexed. “Possible?”

Jiang Wanyin steps forward, and says, “My brother does not, at this moment, have a golden core, because he donated his to me when mine was crushed. At present, it is not possible for him to use spiritual energy. We are working on several possible ways of restoring that option to him, but no amount of criticism, advice, or lecturing is going to magically replace his golden core, after so profound a sacrifice. I would thank you for adjusting your judgment accordingly.”

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue both recoil, shocked. 

“I thought he did it in order to get revenge on Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue finally says.

“I did it to survive. Had I not, I never would have regained enough control to stand up on two legs, let alone walk out of this place,” Wei Wuxian says, tone curt. “I use my cultivation to help, to defend, to put to rest. Since the war, I have done little else with it, aside from Qiongqi Dao.”

“So the Yinhufu—“ Nie Mingjue starts.

“It allowed me to walk out of the Burial Mounds. It allowed me to take control of the Yin iron from Wen Ruohan. It helped trap the spirits which were possessing Wen Ning. I have not used it otherwise. I don’t want to use it. If I could figure out how to safely destroy it, I would. It should never, ever be in the hands of anyone who has a taste for power.”

“You don’t?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Me? I want to plant potatoes and watch my child grow, and make a home with my loving husband. I want my people safe. That’s it. I keep the amulet because the thought of it in the hands of someone like Jin Guangshan or Yao-zongzhu gives me the creeps. At least I know that with me, it won’t be used the way Wen Ruohan used what he had.”

“Is it Xue Yang’s piece?” Nie Mingjue asks abruptly.

“I don’t know where Xue Yang’s piece is. It wasn’t on him when we caught him. Lan Zhan was with me when I found the sword the Yinhufu was made from. I’m fairly certain that the pieces would have joined to form a coin-shape, and that the sword was meant to go down the middle. Part of the reason I reshaped it into a tiger tally is so the pieces could be separated to diminish the ambient resentful energy it gives off. The sword was… worse. Reshaping it precluded anyone ever putting the whole thing back together. I think that would be potentially disastrous.”

“Jin Guangyao thinks you’ve gone mad,” Lan Xichen says softly. “I—I find myself questioning that evaluation.”

“You were willing for your brother to marry me when you thought me mad?” Wei Wuxian asks, disbelief in his voice.

“If I’d found you to be what I was told you were, I would have struck you down where you stood or died trying,” Lan Xichen says without rancor. “But I’ve seen too many inconsistencies for snap judgment at this point. My brother, I trust, to a point. Your brother is crabby but reliable, and he would not allow his sister here if it was not safe enough for Wangji. My only hesitation was that Wangji was trying to hide from me his true purpose here. Now, I understand.”

“Shufu would have forbidden it,” Lan Wangji says. “Shufu would have been mistaken. I could not risk him imprisoning me the way he imprisoned our mother.”

The next day, there is a tea ceremony, and a modest feast, and Wei Wuxian disappears, hand in hand with Lan Wangji, into the cave they already share. 

A-Yuan is sitting on Mo Xuanyu’s lap when Lan Xichen sits down next to them and says, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m A-Yuan’s Bobo, and you are?”

Mo Xuanyu panics, and says, “I’m Yu-gege.”

Lan Xichen laughs. “Are you A-Yuan’s actual brother? Were you in the camps?” He suddenly looks puzzled, when Mo Xuanyu doesn’t immediately answer. “You weren’t mentioned in the reports. Not any of them. I would have noticed mention of another child.”

Nie Huaisang kneels down across from them. “A-Yu, I see you’re being introduced to Er-ge?”

“I can’t call him that,” Mo Xuanyu whispers. “He’s a clan leader.”

Lan Xichen laughs lightly, “Ah, but you’re a child, and my nephew’s gege. Surely we cannot be formal.”

Mo Xuanyu gives Nie Huaisang a wild look and Nie Huaisang whines, “Er-ge, he’s shy. You are both the prettiest man of your generation and a clan leader, and you’re making his head spin. A-Yu, you may call him Er-ge or Bofu, or even Bobo if he likes, and he probably does. Er-ge, you may call him A-Yu, or Xiao-di. Wei Wuxian considers him an adoptive brother, not a son."

“But where did he come from?” Lan Xichen asks, sounding completely baffled. “He reminds me of…”

“You can’t tell anyone I’m here,” Mo Xuanyu says softly. “Especially not him.”

“Who?” Lan Xichen asks.

“The one I remind you of.”

“Did he hurt you?” Lan Xichen asks gently.

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head, but it’s an unsteady thing. “Not… He hasn’t, so far.”

“But you’re afraid of him, specifically? Not… you share a father with him, or a mother?”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “A father, unfortunately, technically.”

“But you are more afraid of your brother?”

“Please, Er-ge, I can’t—I know you want to know, and you’re right to question his… motives. But I can’t—I have reasons, good reasons, to fear him. I know that he is the reason the people around us suffer. Our father is simply not clever enough to be so cruel in such a nuanced way. I don’t want to be seen as a threat or a target or a tool for either of them, and that’s all I could ever be.”

Lan Xichen sits back on his heels, and sighs. “It is hard hearing such words about someone I have cared about, who has always treated me with such kindness.”

“He loves you well,” Mo Xuanyu says softly. “But that doesn’t make him safe for the people you care about.”

“This is the first I’ve seen you, how can you know that with such certainty?” Lan Xichen asks mildly.

Nie Huaisang says, “Ah, Er-ge, our A-Yu is very wise, and knows many surprising things about the world. I find it best not to question, and simply accept that he is wise beyond his years. You’ve rattled the boy enough. Pretend you’ve never met him to anyone beyond these borders, and come talk to Da-ge, who never gets to spend as much time as he’d like with his A-Huan.”

“A-Yuan, would you like to come?” Lan Xichen says hopefully.

A-Yuan puts his face into Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder.

“See, this is what happens when you grill his Yu-gege instead of giving him toys like you’d planned,” Nie Huaisang says. 

A-Yuan rolls his head so that one eye is visible at the mention of toys.

“Right, yes, I did!” Lan Xichen says. “I brought you a little drum!” He pulls a brightly-painted rattle drum out of his sleeve and wiggles it enticingly.

The only movement is one of A-Yuan’s hands reaching for it, and the one eye following its movement.

“I promise not to ask your Yu-gege any more questions?” Lan Xichen says hopefully.

A-Yuan sits up, takes the drum, looks at it, and then leans toward Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen stands, and picks him up. “I promise I won’t take you too far,” he says. “You can run back to your gege or your popo any time.”

“Want Diedie, want Baba,” A-Yuan says.

“It’s a Popo or Gege night,” Nie Huaisang says. "Your BabaDiedie got married, and they will see you tomorrow.”

That gets a whiny little “mn” which makes Lan Xichen laugh. 

“You sound like your baba,” Lan Xichen says fondly. 

“He is very attached,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’m not sure there was ever a chance of your brother leaving once he saw A-Yuan.”

Mo Xuanyu makes a small noise, but manages to stifle his response.

Communication

The clan leaders leave the next day, taking Jiang Yanli with them. 

Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji stay behind.

It is only a few days after their arrival that Lan Wangji finds Mo Xuanyu doing sword exercises, and folds his legs under himself to watch.

“Have you always done them like that?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Like what?” Mo Xuanyu asks, stopping.

“You do not project your spiritual energy as you move. I know the Jin method is different, but it should not be that different.” 

Mo Xuanyu blinks at him. “No one ever told me… I skipped…” Suddenly it dawns on him how tightly his brother monitored his progress, how his brother hand-picked his every teacher. 

He sheathes his sword, and bows deeply. “Laoshi, this one would be honored if you would assume rank ignorance, and instruct this one as though he had never built a core at all.”

“It is not necessary to bow,” Lan Wangji says.

Mo Xuanyu straightens. “I fear it is possible that my education was sabotaged in my first lifetime. I would like to understand better how it is supposed to work. It is something I thought I understood, but clearly I have much to learn.”

Lan Wangji nods. “A humble attitude is a good starting point. Show me what you were taught.”

They discover quickly that Mo Xuanyu’s education was indeed sabotaged, but with a healthy core, it is a simple matter to correct his technique. 

“It is possible that your lack of diligence in your first life saved you from forming terrible habits,” Lan Wangji says. “You are diligent in most areas. I believe once you are seeing proper results, continued progress with the sword will be easier.”

The mornings become lessons with Lan Wangji, who tells Mo Xuanyu that he is an easy student, as he only has to be instructed once. 

Mo Xuanyu finds after only a few days that it becomes difficult to think of Lan Wangji as anything but “Laoshi.”

“Why is he ‘Laoshi’ but I’m ‘Xian-gege?’” Wei Wuxian asks as they clean up after a meal. 

Mo Xuanyu just smirks at him.

“Because you’re a child, and Lan Wangji acts like a teacher,” Wen Qing says.

Wei Wuxian’s answering pout does nothing but make them both laugh.

Nie Huaisang stays for another month to learn everything he can about the issues that will affect him and his brother. Mo Xuanyu falls back into working with him as if they’d never stopped, and frequently finds himself stopping to say, “Right, you don’t know that yet.” 

Together with Wei Wuxian, they devise some of the most sophisticated spy talismans anyone has seen, and Mo Xuanyu teaches them the Jin butterfly, which Wei Wuxian immediately sets out to improve upon. 

“Butterflies are a vanity. And they’re slow. If Wen Qing’s spirit could travel instantly, then it should be possible to send the information much more quickly.” 

They experiment for a bit, and discover that with the right foreknowledge of a place, if paper is there, a message can be formed on it in glowing energy. There are limitations: It is not long-lasting, so someone has to be looking. It drains the user. It fades, quickly.

“This needs more work,” Wei Wuxian declares, and Mo Xuanyu has a new project. 

There are certain places that can be well-known. The clan leaders’ offices at Lotus Pier, Cloud Recesses, Jinlintai, and the Unclean Realm all have a stable supply of visible paper in a known location. They also all have a water source and ink. 

He tries figuring out ways of wetting ink and bringing it to the paper in a pattern. He tries pushing his spiritual consciousness into blank paper to direct the process, and gets a terrible headache and a lecture from Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing, and Nie Huaisang within an incense stick of each other. Lan Wangji does not lecture, he just gets a furrow in his brow and then A-Yuan gets sad about it, which is worse. 

He tries using the spiritual energy to create heat instead of light and sets a sheet of paper on fire.

“This is why my ward talismans are so simple,” Wei Wuxian says.

“It just needs a finer touch,” Mo Xuanyu says, and then blinks. “And less air.”

He spends an entire day staring at a stack of three sheets of paper, then takes another sheet, writes a message on it, writes a talisman, applies the talisman to the paper, and the little stack of three sheets twitches, makes a tiny foomph noise, and the top sheet flutters, glowing, up into the air, then drifts down away from the next sheet down.

The sheet above and the sheet below are no longer clean, but they aren’t on fire. The sheet in the middle? Has a copy of the message, written in light brown scorch, but readable. 

He does it again, only this time he draws a picture of the talisman he used, as well as a message, and takes it to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. 

Lan Wangji visualizes the precise arrangement on his brother’s main writing desk and activates the talisman, pressing it to the sheet of paper.

They wait. Moments go by, then a little longer, and then Lan Wangji’s desk is lit briefly by a glowing paper floating into the air.

Underneath, the message reads, “Thank you, it worked perfectly.” Underneath is a quick sketch of his private desk, and another note saying, “If you wish this technique to be secret, send the message to my room instead.”

“I need to go to the places I will need to send messages,” Mo Xuanyu says. “So that if I go back, I can send them correctly.”

“Several clans were rebuilt within the past few years,” Wei Wuxian says. “I think I can paint a clear enough picture of my supplies in my room at Lotus Pier, but it won’t guarantee I’ll see them.”

“The Jingshi has not changed, and was not burned,” Lan Wangji says. “I was living there from before the lectures. If he gets a message to me, there, during the lectures, most of us will be readily accessible.”

“So when was that?”

Lan Wangji says, “I was born near the New Year. Wei Ying is about nine months younger than I am. I was sixteen and he was still fifteen when we met at the beginning of the lectures. It was late the following summer that we left the lectures to go searching for the Yin iron fragments. Cloud Recesses burned not long after, which was the start of the war, though not the start of the Sunshot campaign. If you want to make the most difference, you will need to go back to either before we left, or when we first arrived at the lectures.”

“So I was eight when you left, and seven when they started,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Wen Qing and Wen Ning were there, too,” Wei Wuxian says. “So if you need her to check you out, you’re going to need to either tell us where to meet you, or join us at Cloud Recesses.”

And with that, they’re off, planning for two different contingencies. Mo Xuanyu knows that he will go back to age eight, but he doesn’t tell them, not now. 

Engagement

Jiang Wanyin shows up six months into their stay in the Burial Mounds with several jars of lotus wine to tell Wei Wuxian that their sister is getting married. Sishu has a batch of fruit wine ready to go, and the Twin Prides of Yunmeng make absolute idiots of themselves getting completely smashed and lamenting the fact that there are no real grounds for objecting to the Peacock, but that they have very real and realistic fears of what will happen to both of them. 

“A-Yu!” Wei Wuxian slurs. “Make a note of it! Find someone else for my sister to marry, to keep her out of that snake pit!”

“You don’t want Jin Ling?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Whossat?” Jiang Wanyin asks, squinting at him.

“Your nephew. You raised him. It always seemed to me like he was the only human being you could stand,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“The peacock got ‘er pregnant? I’ll kill’im.” Wei Wuxian empties a bottle mostly into his face. Lan Wangji calmly dries his chin.

“Can’t, we’ll lose our nephew,” Jiang Wanyin says. “’S’important. I like nephews. They’re all little. Cute. Was he cute?”

“He was very cute,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And as far as I know she’s not pregnant yet.”

“Gotta be the best wedding ever,” Wei Wuxian says. Then he frowns. “Can I see it?”

Jiang Wanyin sighs, seems to sober a bit, and says, “I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“Yu-gege should go, too. See his brother married.” Wei Wuxian waves a jar in Mo Xuanyu’s general direction.

“I don’t need to…”

“She wants you to meet him,” Jiang Wanyin says. “She thinks he’d like to know that he has another brother on his side.”

“I don’t… I… maybe.” Mo Xuanyu sighs. “Ask me when you’re sober.”

Another Brother

Jin Zixuan visits a few weeks later, with Jiang Yanli, and understands immediately who Mo Xuanyu is. 

“You’re the third sibling I’ve learned of,” Jin Zixuan says. “We’re keeping it very hush-hush, but we have a sister.”

“Qin Su?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“How did you… Yes. Someone sent an anonymous note to her and to each of us, and her mother confirmed it. She and A-Yao had been thinking about courting, and well…”

“How did he take it?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Jin Zixuan shrugs. “I never know with him. He doesn’t show much. But I don’t understand why you’re here. I know why you’re not at Jinlintai, I’ve seen how my mother treats A-Yao, but isn’t your mother at Lotus Pier?”

“A-Yu is very gifted,” Nie Huaisang says. “During the rebuilding stage, his skills are better developed here, with Wei-Xiong and Wangji. Why, even I help.”

“My skills are better for talismans, arrays, and cultivation theory,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I don’t have a sword, yet. Xian-gege has been letting me use Suibian to practice, but it’s big for me, and he has to open it every time.”

“But you have a core?” Jin Zixuan asks.

Mo Xuanyu holds out his wrist, and Jin Zixuan tests it, and his eyes widen. “So young? You should have a sword…”

“Jin-xiong, he doesn’t have the money to buy one or commission one,” Nie Huaisang says. “And he is loath to ask your father for it.”

Jin Zixuan frowns. “I can see about having one made. Perhaps I’ll ask A-Yao…”

“No! Please…” Mo Xuanyu’s panic is clear.

Jin Zixuan looks confused. “But he’s our brother… and he’s very helpful.”

“His position is precarious,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I don’t want to put pressure on him at all. I have no desire to come to Lanling, or to be involved with our father. I can continue studying here and borrowing Xian-gege’s sword, as he doesn’t use it.”

Nie Huaisang says, “Imagine, being the son of a prostitute, with a weak core, and your father bringing in another bastard with a stronger core, whose mother is the second lady of a small village but not a prostitute. If A-Yu wanted to be at Jinlintai, it would be another matter, but he doesn’t have any desire for it, and has a number of highly talented cultivators willing to teach him here. Perhaps he should have his own sword. But let us not call the attention of Lanling down on his head, lest he become a tool for the more politically minded.”

Jiang Yanli says, “I know the smith who made my brothers’ swords. We could certainly have one made without bringing in anyone at Jinlintai, couldn’t we?”

Jin Zixuan considers for a long moment, and then nods. “I understand. I’m a little jealous that you are able to remove yourself from it. Maybe Mianmian had the right of it.”

“What should I call you?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Oh!” Jin Zixuan’s eyes go wide. “You can… I’d like it if you called me Da-ge.” He smiles brightly. “I spent most of my life thinking I was an only child, and A-Yao was born in the evening, after me, so he just calls me Zixuan, and very few people know about Qin Su, so I usually call her Qin-guniang, but you can be my didi if you like, when we’re together.”

Mo Xuanyu nods, not trusting his voice. Jin Guangyao had always held him at arm’s length, and this, this is the brother he had never known. 

Later, he tells his brother to keep Jiang Yanli safe, because she is the best person ever. 

“I know,” Jin Zixuan says. “She deserves so much better than me. I keep trying to be worthy of her.”

“Just be careful. I don’t…” Mo Xuanyu stops. Jin Zixuan is not someone in on the secret, and he doesn’t know if he should be. “I know how much the others at Jinlintai have hurt the people here, and I know there’s a lot of… our father isn’t… I don’t trust…”

“I know. And I don’t know how you know, but you’re not wrong. I don’t know what to do about it, but I’m willing to pledge my life to keep her safe.”

“Live your life,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Just, live.”

“Will you come to the wedding?” Jin Zixuan asks.

“I… No, I can’t,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It wouldn’t be… I… no. I am happy for you, and I would love to be able to come, but I can’t… If Father recognized me…”

“He’s seen you?”

“He came to my mother until I was four. He used to— he brought toys, and sweets. And then he just stopped. I wanted him to come back, my mother wanted him to take me to train to be a cultivator, but if I’d waited for him… I wouldn’t have a core now. I don’t hate him, really, but the love he gives feels very… conditional. I have people here who care for me, for me. They don’t stop caring for people if they stop being able to do what they were doing, they just keep on, and that’s precious. And he wants them dead.”

Jin Zixuan sits back on his heels, and says, “Yes, I can… I understand. Jiang Yanli is like that, she’s always cared for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. And it was the first time I’d felt that I was important to someone just for being me, rather than whose son I was, or what status I brought them. When our engagement was broken, she could have asked for an engagement to Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen, both of them clan leaders, and they probably would have said yes, because of the alliances she would bring. But she didn’t. She was still kind to me, even when…”

“She brought you soup, didn’t she?” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“She didn’t have to. She wasn’t even… she didn’t even try… She’s a genuinely good person and she makes me want to be better, and that’s not something that comes easily in Lanling. I… if you can come, come. If you can’t, I understand. I do want to get to know you better. I like the idea of having a didi.”

It is not in that moment, but not long after, that Mo Xuanyu talks to Jiang Yanli and the two of them decide to tell Jin Zixuan the truth. 

He listens, listens well, and takes the news about Jin Guangyao and his father with a remarkable lack of shock. But also, he has no idea what he can actually do to help. Neither do they. 

Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Nie Huaisang leave for the wedding in early spring with a Jiang escort. Mo Xuanyu stays behind with the Wens and a small contingent of Lan and Nie cultivators, who are nominally there to “supervise” in the Jiangs’ absence, but in reality are there to give independent reports to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen and reduce the likelihood of Jin shenanigans. 

When they return, three days later, A-Yuan tears across the village and straight into Wei Wuxian’s arms, scolding his Diedie for being gone “forever.” Wei Wuxian buries his face in the boy’s hair and his shoulders shake a little.

Nie Huaisang says, “He was pigeonholed by Jin Guangshan once, and Jin Zixun had to be physically restrained, but apparently Jin Guangyao had made arrangements for just such eventualities because Jin-furen had threatened his life if anything went remotely wrong. Jiang Wanyin was stuck to him like glue the whole time, and between him and Lan Wangji and Jin-furen, Jin Guangshan was not able to do more than be socially unpleasant at them.”

“You got out in one piece, anyway,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Is Jin Zixun sick yet?”

“Funny thing, that,” Wei Wuxian says. “He’s not. I offered him the talisman belt that you made for him, but he was very suspicious of it. Asked if I was threatening him. I said, no, but that my sister was coming to live there, and I’d prefer that the people around her not be vulnerable to curses, and that while I found him personally unpleasant, he was important to my new brother-in-law, and that it was a peace offering.”

“How did he take it?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“He went around checking with several different older scholars about the talisman work, and they were fascinated, confirmed that there was no ill intent, and pointed out that not only could the talisman protect against curses, but it appeared to be able to track any incoming curse attempts back to the caster, so that he would know exactly who was causing him grief if anyone did curse him.”

“Did he use it?”

“Only after three of them offered to buy it from him if he didn’t want it,” Nie Huaisang says, laughing. 

“Could you feel resentment under the floor?” Mo Xuanyu asks Wei Wuxian. 

“Some, not a lot,” Wei Wuxian says. “Whatever they were doing before, they’re not doing it yet. But you were only there after they… after I…”

“Yeah,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’m almost twelve. I was fourteen before he brought me.”

A few weeks after Mo Xuanyu turns twelve, Jiang Wanyin comes to take him to Lotus Pier to visit with his mother. He bows to the inevitability of it when Jiang Wanyin says that his sword is ready, but that he’s tired of hearing Mo Xiuying moping about her unfilial son.

“Also, A-Jie is pregnant, and the Peacock has decided that it is best for her to have a steady supply of fresh lotus at hand for her nausea, and nothing at Lanling is as good as she deserves, so she’s at Lotus Pier for the duration and so is he, and they want to see you, too.”

Mo Xuanyu is startled to discover when he arrives that his mother, who was quite a bit taller than his ten-year-old self during the brief time he saw her before, is now eye to eye with him.

She breaks into loud tears when she sees how tall he’s gotten. 

“They’re feeding me more than Yima gave us,” he says. “And I’m learning cultivation.” He brings a bright amber light to his fingertips, and she gasps.

More tears follow, but now, he thinks, maybe they’re tears of pride.

Jiang Yanli is there, not showing yet, but with a pleased little glow about her. Jin Zixuan actually hugs Mo Xuanyu after his wife does, and then says, “Your sword is ready. We’ll do a ceremony in the morning. Later morning, so A-Li can… Later morning.”

Mo Xuanyu is momentarily wistful for his friends in the Burial Mounds, but then Jiang Yanli leans forward and whispers, “And I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a party when you get back.”

He realizes soon after that his cheeks are aching, that he’s been smiling, that there is something profoundly different about having his family proud of him. He likes it. 

His memories of his mother’s death, the way she screamed at him until she broke, have been haunting him. And now she is proud, and happy to see him, and he wonders when the other shoe is going to drop.

His sword is simple but elegant, ivory and black with minimal red and gold embellishment, including the name… Changyuan. Timeless. He wonders, when he goes back, if his sword will be different. 

“You should be Jin Ziyu,” Jin Zixuan says to him. “I understand why you don’t want it, but know that I would do what I could to make it yours, if you did.”

“Xuanyu is enough for me, Da-ge,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’d make a terrible Jin.”

“Perhaps one day we can be worthy of you, Didi.”

Jiang Wanyin takes him back to the Burial Mounds despite his mother’s protests. 

“Can’t he learn here? I miss my baby. I could go there?”

But he finds that while he is more at peace with her than he was in their future, it’s frankly exhausting, and would be worse trying to hide his secret from her on a daily basis. And he cannot trust her not to go to his father with his secret, hoping for some reward. She still thinks pleasing Jin Guangshan is a worthy goal, and Mo Xuanyu cannot bring himself to disappoint her again by disabusing her of the notion.

So he goes, and finds himself relaxing with the distance, and Jiang Wanyin gives a rueful chuckle in his ear and says, “I loved my mother, too, but it was downright restful being in Cloud Recesses when she was not. I miss her, but it would be… challenging to live with her now.”

“Yes, exactly,” Mo Xuanyu says into the wind. 

The Invitation

That summer, the Burial Mounds are flourishing. The chickens have gone from two to thirty, the lotus pond is thriving in the center of the village, and a larger pond halfway down the mountain now houses a small flock of ducks and geese. 

Mo Xuanyu, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji have created permanent wardstones, carved painstakingly over the winter, which use resentful energy and spiritual energy together to create a static barrier. It is a novel merging of qiankun and maze array theory which creates a discontinuity between the stones. The only place spiritual weapons or resentful tools may pass is through the gate, and there, the warding is more active, easy to take down for a moment from the inside, keyed to specific people, not artifacts. 

Those who might attack the barrier with resentful or spiritual energy should  bounce off. Cultivators cannot pass if they will not drop their swords, and their swords, held in anger, will bounce off, often painfully. Those passing with malicious intent, even with non-spiritual weapons, find themselves walking back in the direction they came.

There is a weaker overhead barrier, which snaps into place when cultivators fly over the stronger sidewalls, that can be reinforced actively with spiritual or resentful energy, but they need rain and wind and air, and so it is triggered, not continuous. When it goes active, the lingering resentment bound at the barrier slides over the top of the settlement along the lines of the new barrier, obscuring everything below, but it’s oppressive to live under, so they keep the option in reserve. 

Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian to visit his sister in Lotus Pier with reasonable frequency during her pregnancy, and when the baby is born in deepest winter, Jiang Wanyin tells them in writing via the now-proven communication talisman and they go immediately, not waiting for the one-month or hundred-day celebrations to see Jin Ling. 

Mo Xuanyu figures out that Jin Ling’s birth comes a bit later, in this lifetime, than it did when he first lived it, delayed by Jiang Wanyin’s insistence on keeping Wei Wuxian in the family. He’s still a cute baby, however, and Mo Xuanyu goes to Lotus Pier for the small one-month celebration. This is his nephew, and so he goes in the morning, flying on his own sword, knowing that his father will be there for the evening celebration. 

He doesn’t account for his mother’s continuing presence at Lotus Pier, the consequences of which he doesn’t learn of until the invitation arrives for Jin Ling’s hundred-day celebration.

It is scheduled to happen at Jinlintai, near Mo Xuanyu’s birthday, and the invitations which arrive at the Burial Mounds include separate invitations for Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang… and Mo Xuanyu. The invitation to Mo Xuanyu is written in Jin Guangyao’s hand. Inside the formal invitation are two notes. One from Jin Guangshan, who says, “Your mother says you’ve developed a fine golden core on your own, and that you are a talented cultivator already. Come meet your zhizi and we can discuss your cultivation further.” 

The other, also in Jin Guangyao’s hand, says, “I would enjoy meeting my didi. Please do accept the invitation.”

He stands in the dining hall, staring at his hands, as the papers flutter to the ground out of his shaking fingers.

“A-Yu?” Wen Ning asks, and then there are a dozen people looking at him. 

A-Yuan picks up the papers and says, “Yu-gege dropped them!”

Nie Huaisang intercepts them, eyes scanning the characters, and then hands them to Lan Wangji as he wraps an arm around Mo Xuanyu, saying, “Hey, you don’t have to go.”

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head and whispers, “I think I do. If I don’t, they’ll say that he’s brainwashed me against them.”

“We have time to plan,” Nie Huaisang says.

“You won’t be alone,” Lan Wangji says. 

“And if my father insists that I come there permanently? Should I be so unfilial as to refuse?” Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. “I… I’m not ready, but I don’t…”

“Breathe, A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian says. “They’re mostly going to be after me. We knew this was coming, we couldn’t hide you forever. You’re too strong and too important.”

“I’m not supposed to be either!” Mo Xuanyu says. “Someone needs to teach me how to be an assassin so I can just stop him next time, without him ever knowing I’m there. Both of them.”

“You’re cleverer than that, Baobei,” Nie Huaisang says. “You know that the lever needs to be pulled from as far away as possible to move the stone.”

Mo Xuanyu turns into Nie Huaisang’s arms and sobs. He’s in the middle of a seemingly perpetual growth spurt, and his head has finally cleared Nie Huaisang’s shoulder. “I’m too tall,” he says, voice hitching. 

“Wo de tian, you’re going to have to go through puberty twice,” Wei Wuxian says.

“At least,” Mo Xuanyu says, muffled against the fabric at the top of Nie Huaisang’s shoulder.

“You could go back any time,” Wei Wuxian says.

Mo Xuanyu straightens. “No,” he says. “I need to see this play out. All of it, even… Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She must have bragged to him the first chance she got.”

“Next time, send her to Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji says. 

“I can’t send her anywhere until after the war,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Maybe then. Mo Village wasn’t really involved in the war, so it’s the safest place for her, even with how they treated us. At least I know that there, she won’t die—earlier, anyway.”

“So what are you going to do? Wei Wuxian asks.

“I have to go, don’t I? They sent the invitation here; they know where I am. If I don’t go, they’ll accuse you of keeping me from you.”

“We won’t let them keep you if you do not want to be kept,” Lan Wangji says. 

“Would you go against your clan if your brother supports his sworn brother?”

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian, then back at Mo Xuanyu. “Xiongzhang will not. If he did, I would… You are too important to allow Lanling Jin to hurt you again. Xiongzhang knows enough not to fight me on this. But if he did, I would support you. You are our student. Your study with us is essential to the furtherance of knowledge and the upholding of justice.”

Wen Qing says, “You know this could be a trap in a hundred different ways.”

“Wen Ning will stay,” Wei Wuxian says. “We will fly, and avoid Qiongqi Dao. I’ve already done what I can to avoid Jin Zixun being cursed. They can try, but we have more allies this time. Are they going to attack me with the heirs to two clans at my side?”

Celebration

He turns thirteen just before they leave. Wen-popo makes him noodles, and there is a celebration, but it feels like they are holding their breaths for what will come next. 

They fly to Jinlintai, Wei Wuxian standing wrapped in Lan Wangji’s arms on Bichen, Nie Huaisang riding behind Mo Xuanyu on Changyuan. When they were close in Mo Xuanyu’s first lifetime, their cores were both weak, but in this lifetime, even at thirteen, Mo Xuanyu has a much stronger core than Nie Huaisang, and he finds he deeply enjoys flying. 

Mo Xuanyu’s clothing is an ivory vest over a black hanfu, with a red sash belt and an ivory hair ribbon. Nie Huaisang has done his hair up in Nie braids, Lan Wangji has loaned him one of the hair ornaments he wore before he turned fifteen, there are a clarity bell and a jade token at his belt, and a burnished brown dizi tucked into it at his waist. Most of his possessions are in his qiankun belt, the one no one knows about, up against his skin below his innermost robe. 

He looks like someone with the esteem of many clans, but doesn’t look as though he belongs to any of them. His entire wardrobe says, “This person is valued, and he is not yours.” There is no gold, anywhere, but for the trace of it on his scabbard.

He and each of the people traveling with him carry pre-charged teleportation talismans, set to take them back to the Burial Mounds palace, where a set of four arrays have been spaced as targets, to avoid unfortunate collisions. 

Jin Guangyao greets them at the top of the stairs, with utmost graciousness, first Lan Wangji, then Nie Huaisang, then Wei Wuxian, and finally— 

“And this must be Mo Xuanyu! I am your Er-ge, though I may not always remember to answer to it. Zixuan says you call him Da-ge, and he was born in the morning of the same day I was, a few hours older. More people call me San-ge, due to my sworn brotherhood with A-Sang’s and Wangji’s brothers.”

Mo Xuanyu suddenly realizes that their father must have said that he wants Jin Guangyao to make him feel welcome so that he will want to come. He bows, and says, “Xiongzhang.” It is a reflex, and both a distancing politeness and a slight insult after being told to use something else. “This one is A-Yu.”

“I can see you’ve been spending time with Hanguang-Jun,” Jin Guangyao says with a smile, glancing over at Lan Wangji. “His manners are impeccable, and quite formal.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says. 

“San-ge,” Nie Huaisang says, his voice slipping into a natural ingratiating whine. “We’ve come all this way, are there rooms where I can help A-Yu freshen up? I’m afraid I’ve rumpled him, since he was so kind as to fly me here.”

A-Yu does not need freshening up, A-Yu has been armed with every cleaning and tidiness talisman Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji could share, embroidered into his hems and belts and the ribbon in his hair, improved from a mere dirt and wrinkle resistance to actual protection from small projectiles. But he could very much use the space to fall apart for a little while. 

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao says smoothly. “This way. I have you staying next to your brother, A-Sang. We have quarters set up for A-Yu in the main family’s wing.”

“I want to stay with Sang-gege,” Mo Xuanyu says, letting his pitch stay as childish as possible. “He did my braids, and they’re so good.”

Jin Guangyao smiles with half his face and says, “Yes, I enjoy the Nie style myself. I can fix your hair, if it needs it. I’ve done A-Sang’s hair many times.”

Wei Wuxian says, “I think he’s nervous to be apart from his teachers. We’ve all spent a lot of time together recently. He was not treated well where he lived before, and I think he would be more comfortable with familiar faces. You know how it is. He can come with us if there’s no room with Huaisang.”

Jin Guangyao’s eyebrow twitches slightly at the close address. To Mo Xuanyu’s eye, he recalibrates, and says, “I can certainly put a screen and an additional bed in A-Sang’s quarters. My father simply wanted to make him welcome.”

Mo Xuanyu says quickly, “Xiongzhang, if you please, I’ve come to pay my respects, but I cannot stay here. I do not wish to be seen as a threat to anyone, and I’m no good at politics. I just want to study with Xian-gege and Laoshi— Hanguang-Jun. I’m learning so much. I…Da-ge says it’s been hard for you here, with Jin-furen, and I want no part in making it harder with my presence.”

“You don't want our father’s recognition?” Jin Guangyao says, sounding dubious.

“Fuqin… he is a great man, who already has two talented sons. But he was not kind to my mother, and he had no interest in me whatsoever until he found out I’d developed a core and made connections with teachers from other clans. I cannot see how his regard could do anything but make things worse here for the two of you. I find the work I’m doing and the things I’m learning rewarding. I would like to keep doing them.” Mo Xuanyu looks down, and then whispers, “And if I came here, my mother would try to join me, and I think we both know how impossible that might be. I fear for her.”

Something softens in Jin Guangyao at that, and gets him a look he’s never seen before from his brother directed at him. “Indeed, someone has been teaching you very well. I will… I may be able to persuade him to keep you where you are.”

Nie Huaisang’s room is spacious, and the moment they are alone, Mo Xuanyu throws a talisman on the floor which expands into a silencing array, sparkling for a moment along the boundaries of the room. When the sparkling fades, he breathes out, sliding quietly to his knees, shaking his head.

Nie Huaisang crouches down next to him and says, “Can I help?”

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. “I just need to—“ he shakes his hands out and shudders.

“You did well, I thought,” Nie Huaisang says.

“He’s too aware of me, right now,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And he knows I’m competent. I don’t like it.”

“He also thinks you have good reason to avoid this place, though honestly, it being, you know, this place should be enough for anyone,” Nie Huaisang says. “I think you took yourself out of ‘threat’ category nicely.”

“It’s not going to work,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Our father does not like being told no.”

“Never underestimate your xiongzhang’s persuasive ability,” Nie Huaisang says. “By the way, that was a nice touch. You put him on equal standing with his brother, even if you didn’t accept the informal address.”

“They’re the same age,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And he picked xiongzhang last time. I think it’s because Laoshi uses it with Lan Xichen.”

He stands. “Change my braids?”

Nie Huaisang smiles. “Of course.” They’d planned it that way. He’d arrived with retainer’s braids. Nie Huaisang changes them to the braids of a younger son of the main Nie family, much as he’d worn his own hair before he turned fifteen. It’s a statement, one which Jin Guangyao will be able to read, but which Jin Guangshan will not notice.

When he has collected himself, they go back out to the banquet hall, where Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan, and Jin-furen wait with Jin Guangshan, who is sitting in state at the end of the hall. 

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are standing next to Jiang Wanyin near the Jiang disciples, and Jin Guangyao is at the entrance with Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue. 

“Huaisang, what kind of trouble are you in now?” Nie Mingjue asks gruffly. 

Mo Xuanyu gives a deep bow and says, “Nie-zongzhu, apologies, Sang-gege was helping me with my hair.” 

“I see that,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow at Nie Huaisang. “Are you going to come learn the saber with us, then?” 

“I am always interested in learning more about cultivation,” Mo Xuanyu says. “But Lan-Laoshi and Xian-gege have been teaching me the sword, so I will have to wait until they say I’m ready to add other techniques.” He pats Changyuan.

“Shufu asks when you are going to accompany Wangji to Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen says.

“I am only thirteen,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I had hoped that I might come when I’m old enough for one of Lan-xiansheng’s famed lecture series.” 

“I sent the token along so that you might come whenever you are available,” Lan Xichen says. “I know that our library might be helpful for you.”

“Thank you, Lan-zongzhu, this one is honored. It will depend on when my teachers say I’m ready.”

“I’ll put a word in,” Lan Xichen says. “I must say that I’m very interested myself, and wondered if you might want to learn the xiao.”

“I’ve always played the dizi, but it would be interesting to see how the cultivation differs,” Mo Xuanyu says. He can feel Jin Guangyao watching him.

“Our Xuanyu has gained much interest,” Jin Guangyao says, and Mo Xuanyu has to put every lived year of experience in hiding into concealing his reaction to “our.” 

“It seems that having a student has calmed both my brother and his… Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen says. “The talisman work they’ve been doing is revolutionary, and Wangji insists that Mo Xuanyu is a large part of it.”

“I invented very little,” Mo Xuanyu says, shaking his head. “I just tweak them a little, to make them easier to use.”

“I know at least twenty merchants who would like permanent versions of your counterfeit detection talisman,” Nie Mingjue says. “We had traders coming in with large numbers of lead slugs, and we’ve been able to confiscate many, and ban the traders who were bringing them in.”

“We’ve been most interested in how quickly the resentment of the Burial Mounds has been controlled,” Lan Xichen says. “Even Wei Wuxian has said he couldn’t have done it as quickly without your help.”

“He is the master, I am but his humble student,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“You are learning to work with resentful energy?” Jin Guangyao asks.

“Not to create it or to use it for malicious purpose, but it is often faster and less dangerous to move it or allow a ghost to do something active and productive than it would be to suppress it by brute force,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“If there is a fierce corpse, I can usually persuade it to vent its energy into clearing a field rather than attacking the locals. The techniques I’m being taught help me understand them better without danger to myself, which means that it’s much easier to figure out what will help a spirit move on. They like music, and they are soothed by improving the land and helping people, especially people who have been cast aside unfairly.” He takes a breath, and then continues.

“Many of the more recent spirits there were cast in there by the Qishan Wen, and those spirits understand… my teachers have not taught me anything about controlling the living or making fierce corpses from regular corpses, and they both feel very strongly about respecting the dead. And the ones who are not ready to move on like being useful, so they don’t mind maintaining the defenses. When there is no longer a threat, we will be able to put the Burial Mounds to rest. It is… satisfying work.”

“Surely there is a potential great power in such techniques,” Jin Guangyao says.

“I mean, sure, I guess, if you’re an asshole,” Mo Xuanyu says abruptly, and then claps his hands over his mouth.

Nie Mingjue guffaws and Lan Xichen ducks his head with a smile.

“Apologies,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It’s just, my teachers talk a lot about the problem with Wen Ruohan’s work with resentful energy, and that having a strong power motive without a good moral compass created such a great evil. The Yin iron was a tool that magnified that evil where it already existed. But the Yinhufu has not made Wei Wuxian evil. He has used it only twice, to defeat Wen Ruohan and to heal Ning-gege. 

“It helped him pull possessing spirits out of Ning-gege while bringing the shattered pieces of his spiritual cognition back together. Resentful energy can be a powerful bandage, but it took a lot of other work to actually heal. The Yinhufu could not have done it without the added work we did with spiritual energy. As one might expect, the two forces work best in balance, wielded by someone without ulterior motives, or a pair working in tandem toward a common goal.” He blushes, suddenly, and says, “I’m sorry, I… this is what I’m studying now, and I get carried away.”

“Oh, I think it’s fascinating,” Lan Xichen says. “I think you and your teachers may well end up revolutionizing cultivation theory.”

“It seems unlikely to me that Wei Wuxian is without ambition,” Jin Guangyao says. “But I know he’s your teacher, and you must be loyal to your teacher.”

“I think Hanguang-Jun would tell you that Wei Wuxian is aptly named, and righteous,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Ah, but the heart blinds even the best of men,” Jin Guangyao says. 

“A-Yao, you’ve been spending too long in this place,” Nie Huaisang says. “I have seen much of ambitious men in my life, and Wei Wuxian’s greatest ambition right now is to grow lotus and potatoes.”

“The lotuses are coming along,” Mo Xuanyu says. “The potatoes are too good at drawing resentment out of the soil, so we can’t actually eat them. He’s very put out about the fact that we still have to buy them from others. Wen Qing says that when the potatoes stop—well, you really don’t want to see a resentful potato—we’ll be able to actually eat them. The daikons seem impervious to the resentment, which is good because we all resent them a lot.”

“You’ve been getting enough to eat?” Jin Guangyao asks.

“He’s growing like a weed,” Nie Huaisang says. “Yunmeng Jiang provides, and Da-ge and Er-ge have been helping, too, in exchange for talismans.”

“Bamboo shoots, vegetables, mushrooms, and rice are a small price to pay for the improved wardstone design,” Lan Xichen says.

“Sending meat and fabric in exchange for a talisman that acts as a resentment sink was an easy call,” Nie Mingjue says. “There’s no charity in what we’re doing, just good sense.”

There’s a motion from the end of the room, and Jin Guangyao says, “Ah, I’ve kept you too long. Come meet our father, Xuanyu. You’ve already met Jin Ling?”

“I’ve already met our father,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He used to visit, until I was four. I remember him, a little.”

“Nevertheless, he wants to see you again.”

“Of course, Xiongzhang,” Mo Xuanyu defers.

Jin Guangshan has a benevolent, patronizing smile on his face as he sits, waiting for his sons to come greet him.

“Fuqin,” Jin Guangyao says. “My didi, Mo Xuanyu.”

“A-Yu, do you remember your A-die?” Jin Guangshan says.

“Jin-zongzhu,” Mo Xuanyu says, bowing. “This one remembers a little, from long ago. I believe you bought me sweets.”

“Ah, you called me A-die then,” Jin Guangshan says. 

“I would not be so presumptuous now,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It has been a long time.”

“Ah, yes, well.” Jin Guangshan waves a hand. “But you have managed to find some lofty company, child. And formed a strong golden core? Such ambition I thought I might not see.”

“It was formed in extremis,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I was not striving for immortality, just survival. I was fortunate to find such righteous guidance.”

“How did you end up in that place, anyway?” Jin Guangshan asks. “Last I’d heard, you had disappeared while playing near the woods. Next thing I know, Jiang Wanyin is saying you’ve been found.”

“Ah, I… I ran away,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Mo Village… was not a kind place, and then … I was lost in the woods. The golden core was an accident. Xian-gege says he formed his much the same way. He knew it was possible, so he figured out how to use spiritual energy to keep warm, first. I heard that Wei Wuxian had run to the Burial Mounds because no one could hurt him there, and I went there because I wanted to learn how to make it so no one could hurt me again. I knew he’d played a dizi, so I made a simple one, just a whistle, really, and that helped me ask a spirit to tell him I wanted to talk. And Xian-gege’s really nice, so he let me stay.”

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji move closer, to stand near Nie Huaisang.

“Did he know you were mine?” Jin Guangshan asks, his face making clear the implication that Wei Wuxian must only have taken in this child to get leverage against the Jin.

“I mean, I didn’t think I was,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’m just a bastard and… I… it was pretty clear you didn’t want me. He took me in because I was a hungry kid who just wanted to be safe, and he understands that. He… and the Wens… and his friends… they’ve taught me so much and just welcomed me. They don’t care who… my father is. They give me more food, I don’t get hit, no one yells at me. My golden core is strong now. I didn’t even have one before I left home, and they think I might be as strong as Hanguang-Jun someday if I keep going. They didn’t have to make me strong or love me, they just did.”

Wei Wuxian reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You could have come here, to your family,” Jin Guangshan says.

Jin Guangyao’s face flickers, and Mo Xuanyu says, glancing at him, “But we heard stories about how bastards are treated here. That you… That Xiongzhang… And you… I was there, you knew I was there, and no one trained me, or helped me, or protected me. If I’d stayed, if I hadn’t gone to the Burial Mounds, would you ever have come? If I wasn’t already strong?”

Jin Guangshan waves a hand dismissively. “I sent out cultivators to look for you when you ran away, when your mother requested. Whatever has gone on, you are welcome here, now. I’ve made arrangements for you to have quarters here. Your name is now Jin Guangyu, and you have earned a place in this clan.”

Mo Xuanyu bows deeply and says, “Respectfully, Jin-zongzhu, my da-ge suggested the name Jin Ziyu, and I declined, as I have no wish to join the Lanling Jin. My studies will keep me with Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun for the foreseeable future. I will stay with them.”

“I am your father,” Jin Guangshan says, frowning. “I will not have my child living on a midden heap with Wen-dogs.”

“The Wen have been far kinder to me than the Mo ever were, and have done more for me in a few years than anyone else has done for me in a lifetime,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Part of the work we are doing is clearing resentful energy from the Burial Mounds, so that the land may be reclaimed and the spirits there put to rest. It is such a noble task that Hanguang-Jun has made it his life-work as well. Who am I to say that I am better than my laoshi, Hanguang-Jun, who also lives there? I will give my filial duty to those who have shown me filial blessings.”

“So you would turn your back on your family, to work with my enemy?” Jin Guangshan says.

“I have never been interested in being anyone’s enemy,” Wei Wuxian says mildly. “I really just want to grow some nice potatoes and take care of my family.”

“Wei Wuxian is still a member of the Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Wanyin says, frowning. “I was not aware that hostilities had been declared.”

“Your servant has poisoned my son against me,” Jin Guangshan says. 

Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli both bristle at the word servant, but before they can say anything Nie Mingjue snorts. “You didn’t even care about the boy’s existence until you found out he had talent. Is it so shocking that your fatherly behavior has been so similarly rewarded?”

“I’ve always found Xuanyu to be very respectful,” Lan Xichen says. “And he is my brother’s student.”

Mo Xuanyu looks at the clan leaders standing behind him, and says, “Also, I am a cutsleeve, and I’m certain that it would not be tolerated here.”

“You’re not old enough to know that about yourself, boy. That you could think it is reason enough to get you out of that place, with those influences.”

“I’ve known it about myself for years, long before I met anyone at the Burial Mounds,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“No son of mine—” Jin Guangshan starts.

“I think we have established that I am not interested in being a son of yours,” Mo Xuanyu says abruptly. “I appreciate the invitation, but I will not be staying.” He turns to Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. “Sorry, Da-ge, but I suspect that he’s about to ask the guards to detain me.” He gives a little push of qi to a red packet to send it over to his brother’s hand. 

Jin Zixuan catches the packet, and nods.

“We’ll see you at Lotus Pier,” Jiang Yanli says.

“I’ll go first,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Jin Guangshan opens his mouth to say, “You will not,” but Mo Xuanyu has already activated his talisman.

Escape

It is less than half a shichen later that Wei Wuxian joins him in the dining hall at the Burial Mounds, where Mo Xuanyu is peeling and chopping radishes with more aggression than the vegetables probably deserve. 

“Did he declare war?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Not yet,” Wei Wuxian says. “I decided to get out while I still could.”

“And your husband?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Oh, he’s being very him, and staying to make sure they don’t, you know, launch an actual attack. Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng are all steadfastly against it, but I wouldn’t put it past Jin Zixun and the Yao brigade to join with him just to stir something up.”

“Sorry,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure this went way worse the first time around. No one shot me, for one, and my sister and her husband are fine. And headed back to Lotus Pier tonight, whatever he does.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “You really outdid yourself back there. I think the only person I know of who has ever made him angrier is, well, me. He threw things after you left, and he yelled a lot.”

“And somehow he’s shocked that I don’t want to live there,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“The fact that you were able to use a teleportation talisman impressed a lot of people,” Wei Wuxian says. “I didn’t tell them that we’d precharged them with resentful energy.”

“I could have used a standard one, I’d just be lying on the floor of the cave right now, passed out, if I had,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Did you feel it, under the floor?”

“Oh, that? That’s nothing. They’ve barely begun.”

“There was Yin iron down there,” Wei Wuxian says. “Not a lot of it.”

“I think Xue Yang splintered pieces off of his piece. He probably gave a splinter to Jin Guangshan in exchange for his life,” Mo Xuanyu says, stabbing a radish particularly viciously. 

“The next time you go back, please give us enough time to catch him in the act and get that shard away from him,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“You’re not going to have the skills you have now. If he has the iron, you won’t defeat him alone. I’ll have to persuade you to let me come. And I’ll be eight. How do you think that will go?” Mo Xuanyu snaps back at him. “You’ll be what, sixteen? How many sixteen-year-olds have you met who would take advice from an eight-year-old?”

“You’re going to tell me about my past,” Wei Wuxian says. “And then you’re going to tell me about my possible futures. I think I’ll listen. I did this time.”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I just—it’s been a long time since I had to deal with that… place. My brother. My father. You’ve always listened.”

“If we’d left Cloud Recesses immediately after we met Lan Yi, I think it would have given us enough time. I’m afraid if we hadn’t—“ 

“You want to make sure you’re married to your husband,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Understandable, he’s very pretty.”

“I mean, I think if you told me that he was going to be the one to love me completely, forever, and that our goals aligned and that he was really fun once I got to know him, I think—“

Wen Qing walks in and says, “If someone had told you on day one that Lan Wangji was ‘really fun’ you would have laughed in their faces.”

“Qing-jie—“ Wei Wuxian whines.

"If I have to go back farther, I’ll just tell you that in every life that I’ve known about you and him, he’s been madly in love with you,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“I wouldn’t—I’d have thought it was a prank,” Wei Wuxian says. “That someone like him could—“

“All right, so I’ll tell you that after I tell you about the brindled stray who nearly killed you until you threw it across the alley with your core at age seven.”

Wei Wuxian shudders. 

“Seven?” Wen Qing asks.

“I don’t tell people when I formed my core or how,” Wei Wuxian says. “I usually say I did it to keep from freezing. That’s not entirely untrue. My parents… they died when I was, oh, almost five, I think, I don’t remember much, but I lived with a popo in Yiling for a time after that, a year or so, and my mother had just started me on these exercises—I didn’t know what the exercises were, at the time, they were just a game, but they were core exercises, and they were what I had of them, so I did them every day while I was with that popo. And when she died… it took a while for someone to come and kick me out, but I was already able to feel spiritual energy, and it made me warmer to do the exercises, and less hungry… I was having to fight dogs for scraps sometimes, and the dogs would usually win. One dog decided I was a scrap, and well… I think that’s when my core really condensed. Not a method I recommend.”

He looks at Mo Xuanyu and says, “By the way, very clever with Jin Guangshan. Quite plausible. Then again, ‘time travel creates precocious golden core’ is probably not on their list of possibilities.”

Mo Xuanyu and Wen Qing both snort. 

Wei Wuxian grabs his chest suddenly, and pulls out a talisman. “Fuck,” he says succinctly as it burns up. 

“Lan Wangji?” Wen Qing asks. 

“To the wardstones,” Wei Wuxian says. “They’re coming.”

Siege

Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang show up a little while later. “We have a shichen,” Nie Huaisang says. “They’re flying here. Our brothers are all coming, but Jin Guangshan is sending Zixun and a flock of flunkies with some of the minor clans, using his position as chief cultivator to drive them. I don’t know who will get here first.”

“I will take the high ward with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. 

“I’ll take the gatestone,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I suppose they’re coming for me, anyway, and if they break the ward, I’ll go with them.”

“You can time travel out of this right now if you need to,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“We need to know if the wards work as well as we think they will,” Mo Xuanyu says. “We’re still working on the Lotus Pier wards. If I go back to your late Cloud Recesses days and don’t have all the wards fully memorized and ready to deploy, I might as well not bother. I need more time.”

Lan Wangji looks at him for a long moment and then says, “Go back if your life is in danger. You can always go back farther if you need to.”

“I’ll go to the gatestone,” Nie Huaisang says. “I can’t help much, but I can direct our cultivators until Da-ge gets there.”

Several hundred Jin, Yao, Ouyang, and Su disciples arrive a shichen later. The wards between the gate flicker red whenever someone strikes at them, but they do not bend to a variety of techniques. 

Someone gets the bright idea to go over the top of it, and then comes back down saying, “It’s like a boiling mass of resentment, over the whole valley. How could anyone live there? Why would anyone want to?”

“I thought they were purifying the area?” another man says. 

Nie Huaisang peeks through the ward, and says, “It’s only like this when the wards are being attacked. They’re feeding off your resentment.”

“Open the gate, Nie.” Jin Zixun says. “I’ve been told to retrieve my cousin.”

“I won’t. A-Yu is better off here than with the likes of you, and we don’t trust you with the people who live here.”

“Ask him if he’s been cursed lately,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Your cousin wants to know if you’ve been cursed lately,” Nie Huaisang says, stepping through the ward as if it is not there. 

“I… Su Minshan tried something a few weeks ago. It didn’t work. Our father banned him from the entirety of Lanling.”

“Your cousin made that belt for you, here. He couldn’t have learned it anywhere else.”

“He should be with his family,” Jin Zixun says. “Jin-zongzhu—“

“Grab him and use him to get through the ward,” Yao-zongzhu interrupts.

“It won’t work,” Nie Huaisang says, “But you’re welcome to try. No grabbing needed.”

“You just walked through, you must be recognized…” Jin Zixun takes Nie Huaisang by the elbow and walks face first into the ward, bouncing off so abruptly that he loses his grip. Nie Huaisang walks through.

“See, here’s the thing,” Nie Huaisang says, walking back through the ward. “I have no ill intent towards the people who live here. And I am not carrying any spiritual weapons at the moment. Anyone who comes in peace, bearing no weapons, will be able to walk through the ward. It’s that simple. You bounced off, therefore I assume you wish the people here ill.”

“They’re criminals!” Jin Zixun shouts. 

“What, the toddler? The grandmother? The old wine-making uncle?”

“What is a Nie doing defending Wens? They killed your father! How unfilial!” Yao-zongzhu exclaims.

“These Wen did not,” Nie Huaisang says. “And I’m here because Hanguang-Jun doesn’t like talking and is busy reinforcing the wardstones so that you lot don’t hurt anyone. So just realize that when you strike these wards, you’re striking against the Lan, the Nie, and the Jiang.”

Someone shoots an arrow at the wardstone. The arrow slows at the barrier in front of the wardstone, turns around, flies back, wags like a scolding finger in front of the archer, and then drops to the ground. 

“That was a warning, by the way,” Nie Huaisang says. “If you’d shot that at a person, it would have just killed you.” He yawns, flutters his fan, says, “I’m tired. My brother will be along soon. You should go away now.”

He walks back through the gate, gives Mo Xuanyu a small hug, and takes a seat on a log.

Wen Ning says, “They’re not going away.”

“No, I wouldn’t think they would,” Nie Huaisang says, as the thin barrier of the boundary roils, and the sounds of shouting attacks come through. “They’re going to test the whole boundary. I suspect someone will die.”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “I really am going to have to kill them, aren’t I?”

“What, all of them? The world will always have its Yaos and Zixuns. The ones who need to die are the axles on which those wheels turn.”

“I don’t like the idea of fratricide or patricide,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“And that, darling boy, is why you are a good person, and they are not.”

They sit inside, waiting, until suddenly the noise outside stops. Then they hear, “Huaisang!” 

Nie Huaisang smiles. “Da-ge is here.”

He goes to the ward and walks through to find several cultivators lying on the ground outside the ward, many more sweaty cultivators standing around looking awkward, and a whole flock of Nie, Jiang, and Lan disciples lining up behind their leaders.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Nie Huaisang says with a smile at his brother. 

“What happened to them?” Jiang Wanyin asks, nodding at the cultivators on the ground.

“Well, they shot the wardstone, and it warned them, and I explained how the ward works, and they attacked it anyway. I don’t know what they expected would happen. No one here has done anything but sit inside and maintain the wards.”

“Why does it look like that?” Jiang Wanyin asks. “From above, it looks worse than ever?”

“It’s just a thin layer, along the barrier, and it’s there because there’s an attack. If these lovely people would back off, then the upper barrier would drop. Imagine if the Cloud Recesses or Lotus Pier had had such defenses…” 

Jiang Wanyin’s eyes widened. He says quietly, “A test?”

Nie Huaisang makes a very tiny gesture of confirmation.

“Is Wangji here? He left rather suddenly,” Lan Xichen says.

Nie Huaisang hides a smirk behind his fan, and says, “Of course, where else?”

Nie Mingjue looks at the assembled Jin alliance. “Are you lot really going to fight all of us? Over another of Jin Guangshan’s bastards not wanting to be a pawn of his father?”

“We were told the Yiling Laozu had kidnapped him,” one person says.

“Most of the people in charge of you know that we are talking about a thirteen-year-old who fled the place he was stashed because he was being hurt,” Nie Mingjue says. “The only reason Jin Guangshan wants him is that he was taken in by the Yiling Laozu and Hanguang-Jun and given the protection of Lotus Pier. I’ve met the kid. He’s doing well where he is.”

“But a child, in that?” someone asks, gesturing at the roiling barrier. 

“If everyone would fly back to Yiling,” Lan Xichen says, “and go up to our usual traveling height, where you can see the Burial Mounds, I will ask my brother to lower the upper ward, and you can see what it’s usually like.”

“Wei Wuxian says that it was like this when he first arrived,” Nie Huaisang says. “It was like this all the way through. He barely survived, but in surviving he learned how to defeat Wen Ruohan and his army of the undead. Now he grows lotus here.”

A rising mutter, and then Yao-zongzhu says, “Well, I’m curious enough. What say you? Shall we see?”

“My cousin—“ Jin Zixun starts, but Nie Mingjue turns on him.

“You haven’t laid eyes on the boy until today. You treat A-Yao like dirt. Your father threw A-Yao down the steps of Jinlintai, and your cousin knows it, and does not care to leave people who genuinely value him, for that. Would that someone had protected you that way, when you were small.”

“I didn’t need—“ Jin Zixun starts, but one of his friends puts a hand on his arm, and he stops. “Fine. Pick them up,” he says, nodding at the fallen. 

“Are they dead?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Unconscious, probably,” Nie Huaisang says. “Wei Wuxian wanted to make a point, not murder people. He dislikes killing.”

Someone checks, and then nods. “Just… sleeping?”

“Oh, good, it worked,” Nie Huaisang says. “The superficial defenses are all non-lethal. If you break those, well, it’s a different story, but none of these cultivators managed it.”

“None of them?” Lan Xichen says, interested. “Working together?”

“We kept bouncing off,” one of the Ouyangs says. “When we tried to work together, we got dizzy.”

Lan Xichen smiles, and says, “To Yiling, then, if you’d like to see what it really looks like.”

“How will they know to drop it?” someone asks.

“They’ll know,” Nie Huaisang says. “Never underestimate what the Yiling Laozu knows.”

Later, Nie Huaisang tells Mo Xuanyu about it, how the siege and the clan leaders and their entourages flew down to Yiling, and then rose into the air en masse, Nie Huaisang on his brother’s saber.

The Burial Mounds were a seething black mass, spreading into the distance, until Lan Xichen quietly triggered a talisman, an all clear.

From the central mountain, a clear patch developed, and the blackness receded until it was an almost invisible thin ring enclosing the area the clouds had previously covered. Underneath, fields with crops, a small herd of goats, chickens, ponds, birds, fruit trees, and the small village near the center. 

Nie Huaisang had kept his hand on another talisman, one which would have the barrier going back up at full strength if anyone had broken formation to attack. 

“Is that Hanguang-Jun?” someone had asked, pointing at a ledge over the village, where a small white figure could be seen. 

“Is that Wei Wuxian next to him?” another person had asked, looking at the small black-robed figure standing alongside. 

“As you can see,” Lan Xichen had said, “the boy is not living in a mass of resentment, he’s living in a reclaimed settlement, in a house, with ample food and capable teachers. He is safe. I know that our instincts say that children should be with their parents, but many of us were not, and are still good people.” 

It is not long before the siege disperses, and the clan leaders are welcomed into the village.

“A-Jie is furious at Jin Guangshan for ruining the hundred-day celebration,” Jiang Wanyin tells Wei Wuxian. “They’re already at Lotus Pier.”

Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen are talking to Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang a little ways away.

“I’m sorry,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I could have just gone with—“

“Literally no one wants that, kid,” Jiang Wanyin says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep your mother from talking to your father. I tried, but she outwitted the disciple I had set to distract her.”

“I— maybe I’ll try not leaving her behind next time,” Mo Xuanyu says softly. “I don’t know…”

“You have tools this time that you didn’t have then,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I’m still not ready,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I want to protect all of you, and the places you care about. I’m not there yet. The more time we buy me, the better.”

“Aiya, this is a strange life we lead,” Wei Wuxian says. “Waiting for a child to undo everything. I’m glad I won’t remember most of it, it was bad enough the first time.”

“If I do it right, most of the worst stuff won’t happen,” Mo Xuanyu says. “If I didn’t think I could fix the worst of it, I wouldn’t bother. I like living here with you, all of you. It’s so much better than what I remember.”

“I’d have been dead already, wouldn’t I?” Wei Wuxian says.

Mo Xuanyu nods, and Jiang Wanyin shudders.

The other clan leaders join them, and Wei Wuxian asks Lan Xichen, “Do you think they’ll leave us alone for a while?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Nie Mingjue says. “They won’t act without broad support, and I think we managed to demonstrate today that they don’t have it.”

“Be ready for more subtle means,” Nie Huaisang says.

There’s something in his voice… “You’re going?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“For a little bit,” Nie Huaisang says. “I have some things… I’ll write. Often.”

“Stay for dinner, at least,” Mo Xuanyu begs.

And they do.

It is later that evening, when they’ve all finished dinner but are still sitting around the dining hall, when Mo Xuanyu says, “Wait, we survived.”

Wen Ning picks up Mo Xuanyu’s plate and says, “You thought we wouldn’t?”

“Last time… they didn’t,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I really changed it.” Then he blinks. “I told my father off.”

Lan Wangji looks over and says, “That is no small thing. I often wonder what would have happened if we’d held our father accountable.”

“I never, ever stood up to Yu-furen,” Wei Wuxian says. Then his eyes get wide. “If you make sure I stay with Lan Zhan, I might never have to go back to her after Cloud Recesses and she wouldn’t even be mad about it because it’s Lan Zhan.”

“We have to get the wards to Lotus Pier,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Let Jiang Wanyin do it,” Lan Wangji says. “You will be giving all of us tasks, will you not?”

“Yes, if you’ll take them, Laoshi,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Lan Wangji ponders that for a moment, and then says, “Let us dedicate ourselves to crafting the best messages for our younger selves. Your memory is excellent. I believe you might be able to recreate them from memory if we are careful enough.”

Thirteen

Things are quiet after that for a while. Mo Xuanyu works with each of them, creating a plan of attack for his next jump, a complex message for each of the people they plan on bringing into it. 

When they finish with the Lotus Pier reinforcements, Jiang Wanyin and Jin Zixuan escort Mo Xuanyu to Lotus Pier to install and test them. Jiang Wanyin tells him the finest details of his puppies’ markings, and how it was worth giving them up for his brother. 

His message will contain the instructions for the Lotus Pier reinforcements, plus suggestions for security and evacuation, most of which Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian have designed together. 

Mo Xuanyu plays with his nephew and talks to his brother, who tells him about why he was so reluctant to marry Jiang Yanli. Jin Zixuan’s letter will include messages about his behavior and suggestions for getting to know his future wife, plus a warning about his father, his cousin, his brother. It will tell him of his sister, and warn about the indoctrination. 

“I don’t know what I should have done differently other than how I treated Yanli,” Jin Zixuan says. “But tell me to support Wei Wuxian, the Jiangs, the Lan, no matter what. Tell me to stay in Cloud Recesses to help them prepare. Tell me to take a different sword to the indoctrination, if we go.”

There has been much debate about the indoctrination. On the one hand, it was terrible and unnecessary, but on the other, it is a single perfect chance to destroy both Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu.

“I will include instructions for secret qiankun clothing with embroidered talismans that foil detection,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I will tell you to bring enough for twenty, stocked with weapons and food.”

Jin Zixuan nods. 

He returns to the Burial Mounds from Lotus Pier, spends barely a day, and then Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian travel together with him to Gusu. 

The wards for Cloud Recesses are very different, and the placement goes well. Lan Qiren surprises Mo Xuanyu, who has only really heard stories of the man, but it is easy to be polite and respectful, and when he shows Lan Qiren how the new wards convert the resentful energy of attackers into increased barrier strength, the man strokes his beard and then gives a reluctant nod. The angrier and more murderous the attackers, the stronger the defense will be. The new barrier allows a stronger overhead barrier, and the younger disciples are set to work carving small bamboo talismans to set into each of the remaining large trees. A metalworker is brought up to make metal protection talismans for every building. It takes twenty days from start to finish, and Mo Xuanyu nods.

“Hopefully we will remain in a time of peace for many years to come,” Lan Qiren says. “Though it does give my old heart ease to know we are better protected.”

“Lan-xiansheng, if you could go back and change anything, anything at all, what would you change?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

“Ah, I try not to think about the past that way,” Lan Qiren says. “It is futile, as the past is the past.”

“But if you could? What mistakes would you undo?”

Lan Qiren tips his head to one side, strokes his beard, and says, “I would not allow Wangji to go on that foolish mission. I would never accept Su Minshan as a disciple in the first place.” And then a long hesitation. “Ah, there are a few other things, but they are not mine to tell, and our clan forbids gossip.”

“Why do you think it impossible to go back in time?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Lan Qiren blinks at him. “Why on earth would it be possible? Time moves in one direction. To reverse it? To unwind everything that has happened on the off chance that it might, somehow, become better? Who would be so arrogant as to even…” He freezes. 

Mo Xuanyu waits. 

Lan Qiren looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Did Wei Wuxian suggest that it might be possible?”

Mo Xuanyu tries to decide exactly how to broach this. Then he says, “Lan-xiansheng, by the time I was fourteen years old, Wei Wuxian had been dead for two years. I spent years learning from his notes, and then from the spirits of his friends and family. He had, in fact, devised an attempt at time travel. It failed. I succeeded when I was twenty-four years old.”

Lan Qiren’s hand stops in place on his beard. He frowns, opens his mouth, shuts it again. Finally he says, “You are thirteen.”

“My body is thirteen,” Mo Xuanyu says. “My spiritual cognition is twenty-seven-ish. My golden core is stronger than it ever was in my first lifetime, as I did not start training until I was fourteen, after Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian, and the entire Wen settlement died. Within the next few years, Jin-zongzhu and Chifeng-Zun were murdered by Jin Guangyao with the help of Xue Yang and Su Minshan. My own mother died of shame when I was cast out from Jinlintai for trying to warn my sister that her husband was her brother. So when I ask you what you want to change, I’m telling you that there is a strong possibility I can change it.”

“You should not,” Lan Qiren says, reflexively.

“Imagine if the wards we just set had been set when Wen Xu attacked the Cloud Recesses? If Su Minshan had already been dismissed?”

“Wangji would never have had to…” Lan Qiren breathes out. “The library… And we lost so many. The list of my students from the year before the war who are still alive is shorter than the list of those who died. You think…”

“I believe I can save them,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I should have two more chances to try. If I fail, I will have gone back far enough that my golden core has overwhelmed my body, and things will go on as they would have without my involvement. What would you change?”

“You can’t possibly go back far enough for me to save the boys’ mother,” Lan Qiren murmurs, almost to himself. 

“But if I told your past self that one of your dearest regrets was that you could not save her?”

“Tell me that after Tang Lijuan died, I found her notes, which explained exactly what happened to her,” Lan Qiren says. “If you tell me that A-Huan was fathered by Lan Kaishen, it is something that no one else knows, which no one else can possibly know, and something which you should tell no one else, at all.”

Mo Xuanyu considers that, and then says, “It would destabilize everything and benefit no one. Agreed. Only you, only for this, so that you will help us. If I use this it will be because I have already gone back, and only then.”

Lan Qiren nods, then says, “How will you bring so much knowledge back? Into your eight-year-old self?” 

“I have a very good memory,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It is not quite as perfect as Jin Guangyao’s, but it was sufficient to recreate most of Wei Wuxian’s original work in the Burial Mounds, such that he was able to start from where he left off, and focus his efforts on defensive work rather than the desperate methods he was thinking about using.”

“Time travel?” 

“Is a last resort,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And Laoshi, trying to save him, bled on the talisman. It did not… it backfired. Separate became disperse.”

Lan Qiren winces. “Ah.” Then he frowns. “Who knows?”

“Everyone at the Burial Mounds. Jiang Wanyin, my da-ge and Jiang Yanli. Nie Huaisang.” Mo Xuanyu’s brow furrows. “I think that’s it.”

“Not Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen?” Lan Qiren asks.

“I don’t… I’m not sure. I haven’t told them. They both know there’s something going on. I’ve left it to their brothers.”

“May I speak to Xichen about this?” Lan Qiren asks. 

Mo Xuanyu thinks about his initial instinct, that Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao are too close… but they have not been quite so close this time. Lan Xichen has come down firmly on the side of Lan Wangji and the Wen Remnants. After a long hesitation, he nods.

“Thank you for trusting us,” Lan Qiren says. 

“Thank you for teaching this one, Xiansheng,” Mo Xuanyu says, bowing his head. 

“My nephew considers you family.” Lan Qiren strokes his beard. Then he gives a dismissive huff. “Of course I will teach family. And you repay in kind, abundantly. It is only fair for me to teach you, by either measure.”

Mo Xuanyu outlines the plan for Lan Qiren. Later, they sit down with Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian to discuss the finer points. 

He goes to Qinghe, next, eager to see Nie Huaisang. It is the same, and different, less decoration, more joy. Nie Mingjue is having some symptoms of qi disturbance, but between Mo Xuanyu, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji they are able to reverse much of it. The resentful energy sinks have been helpful, and they give the Nie designs for mosaic arrays to create wards which will constantly draw any resentful energy in the area to strengthen the walls.

Nie Mingjue takes the time travel news in stride. “That answers a number of unanswered questions,” he says. And he explains how the sabers work, the problems of the ancestors’ blades. When they’re done, they have mapped out a method for protecting a large swath of the area around the Unclean Realm fairly quickly. 

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return to the Burial Mounds within a few days. Mo Xuanyu stays long enough to see the work completed and tested. And a little longer after that, because he missed Nie Huaisang. 

Mo Xuanyu turns fourteen in the Unclean Realm, and then, weeks later, travels with Nie Huaisang by carriage to Yiling. 

Fourteen

The Burial Mounds are lush with spring growth when they arrive, green budding leaves on the fruit trees at the base of the mountain, still some petals hanging on farther up. A-Yuan has sprouted up, and suddenly looks every bit of his newly-seven years. 

“Yu-gege!” he shrieks, and what his voice has lost its toddler piping, it has gained in volume. He slams into Mo Xuanyu with his nose at Mo Xuanyu’s waist, and asks, “Did you bring me anything?”

“Aiya, Didi, is that all you want? Not me, not your gege, but toys?” Mo Xuanyu laughs, and ruffles A-Yuan’s hair. 

A-Yuan raises his eyebrows. 

“I was just in Qinghe, of course I brought you something,” Mo Xuanyu says, and pulls a kite out of a qiankun pouch. “Oh, no, that’s from Yunmeng.”

He reaches into the pouch, and pulls out a toy boat. “Oh, no, this one is from Caiyi!”

Then he reaches in one more time, and brings out a carved and painted fan. “Are you able to be very careful?”

A-Yuan’s eyes go wide, and he nods.

“Sang-ge and I made this for you together,” Mo Xuanyu says, flicking it open. 

A-Yuan gasps. “It’s so pretty!”

“It’s magic,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’ll teach you about it later.” The fan has a few small tricks worked into it, that will help A-Yuan develop his core.

“Spoiling him again?” he hears, and looking over, finds Wen Qing. He runs forward to give her a hug, and then stops, shocked.

“You’re shorter than I am!” he says. 

She looks up at him with one eyebrow raised. “I’m still the boss of you. Now give your jiejie a hug. You’ve been terribly neglectful.”

“I missed you, Qing-jie,” he says, hugging her. “My bones hurt when I’m growing so fast.”

“Come by after dinner, I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “Go give Popo your respects, she’s worried about you.”

He nods, and breathes in the air of home, feeling something in his body relax. 

It is strange to think that if he succeeds, this place will never be what it is right now.

He shoots up, taller than Nie Huaisang, taller than he remembers being before. His core strengthens with time, despite being already strong. Sword forms from Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan come easily, in this stronger body. While he shares some of the features of his father’s family, he also bears a striking resemblance to Wei Wuxian, despite Wei Wuxian looking nothing like the Jin at all. 

“Could your mother have been a Mo?” he wonders, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t look like his aunt or cousin at all. His mother’s mother’s family, perhaps? He doesn’t really look like his aunt, either.

He asks his mother, when visiting Yunmeng, about his maternal grandmother, who he doesn’t remember. 

“Ah, she died when you were little,” Mo Xiuying says. “Her name was Liu Yun, and I look like her. But my cousin is still alive, you could ask him? Liu Huizhong. He lives, oh, not far from Mo Village, several li away? There’s another little town on the road between Lanling and Qishan, closer to Qishan. I haven’t seen him in years…”

“Do you want me to let him know you’re here?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Her eyes shift and she shakes her head. “That’s alright. I’m fine here. They’re so kind to me!”

He doesn’t really want to go back anywhere near Mo Village, but he does send a letter, asking if there were any Liu family members who went missing around the time of Cangse Sanren’s discovery by Baoshan Sanren. Wei Wuxian is currently twenty-three years old, the same age as his mother was when he was born, according to Lan Qiren. They believe that she was found around age two, so the mystery of where she comes from before that is about forty-four years old. His mother is thirty-one, her mother, Liu Yun, would be fifty-one if she’d lived. 

The cousin, who is thirty-five, writes back saying that he’s too young to remember himself, but his mother remembers her husband’s brother’s family going missing in a flood around the right time period. 

He tells Wei Wuxian what he’s found, that it’s possible that they might be distant cousins through their mothers. Together, they work on a kinship talisman, out of sheer curiosity as to whether it can be done. The Wens are a perfect testing ground, with siblings and multiple generations but a lot of gaps. 

Once they have a basic talisman that can show close kinship, which lights up strongly between Wen Qing and Wen Ning, who are full siblings, and moderately between them and their grandmother, they work on refining it. It seems to be able to detect strength of connection but not precision of connection.

“I think there’s a mathematical relationship to it,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Like, say, if half of us is from each parent, and half of each of them comes from each of their parents, and full siblings are about that strong, but half-siblings are less strong… wouldn’t it make sense that a grandparent might only be half the strength of connection? And cousins less?”

“So we want to be able to detect more distant cousins, who might share—“ Wei Wuxian does a few calculations and then says, “So maybe three parts in a hundred? That would be five steps… let’s go to six steps, for luck.”

The talisman ends up being less useful, as they tend to lose function too quickly to easily assess.

“Could we etch it on glass?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

That sends them down another tangent, and Nie Huaisang gets involved. They give him a design, finally, and he has it made by a Nie shop that does both jewelry and glasswork. 

In the end, with another month of experimenting, they come up with a device which has six stones of varying sensitivity. It responds to a drop of blood on either end, which can easily be washed off afterwards.

The most sensitive lights up with only small amounts of connection, successfully picking up the connection between two distant cousins from the Nie clan. It lights up for everyone else who is related, too, but the gradually less sensitive stones only light up with stronger and stronger connections.

Jiang Yanli and Jin Ling, now a dumpling of a toddler, light up all the stones, as do Wen Ning and Wen Qing, and Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin. Nie Huaisang and his brother, half-siblings, light up all but the last stone, as do Mo Xuanyu and Jin Zixuan, and A-Yuan with Popo. Interestingly, while Popo and Wen Qing light up five stones, she only lights up four with Wen Ning, despite it being clear that Wen Ning and Wen Qing are full siblings. It takes looking at the thing in the dark to realize the fifth stone is flickering faintly.

A-Yuan and Wen Qing, first cousins, light up all but two stones. 

The great shock is when Lan Wangji tries it with Wen Yuan, and it lights up with all but two stones, indicating that they are likely first cousins, as well. Deeply curious, he tests with Popo and Wen Qing, but there is no connection at all.

“Your mother must have been a sibling of A-Yuan’s mother,” Popo says, “for you to be such close cousins.”

“I know so little about her,” Lan Wangji says, stunned. “Your son’s wife?”

“My son’s wife was from the north. She came to Dafan quite young, alone. We took her in. She never talked about her family, just that they’d fled a conflict, that she’d been separated from them… She married my son, eventually, but the war, and then she died soon after A-Yuan… My son was conscripted for one of Wen Ruohan’s conquests in the southwest, before the war. We found out he’d been killed before A-Yuan was born.”

“My mother was a rogue cultivator. She must have been much older than her sister,” Lan Wangji says. “They would have been separated, oh, twenty-six years ago?”

“Yes, about that,” Popo agrees. “A-Ming was, oh, somewhere between four and six. And A-Yuan was conceived seven years ago, his mother was about twenty-five. She was a good medical cultivator, my eldest, A-Qing and A-Ning’s father, trained her, and her husband was, as well.”

“May I tell my brother?” Lan Wangji asks. “My shufu?”

She nods. “You probably are his closest blood kin besides us, you know.” 

“I would love him anyway,” Lan Wangji says, “But I was curious, as so many people say he looks like me.”

Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu finally try the kinship detector after most of the village have tried it. Two of the stones light up. 

Wei Wuxian then tests it with Jiang Wanyin, and a single stone lights. 

“We’re related?” Jiang Wanyin asks.

“Distant cousins, somehow,” Wei Wuxian says. “Was my mother a distant cousin of yours? Was my father distantly related to the Jiangs? Who knows. But it’s certain we are not blood brothers of any degree.” 

“You’re still my kin, and my brother, but it’s nice to know the rumors about my father were just as false as we always thought,” Jiang Wanyin says. 

Wei Wuxian tests it with Jin Zixuan, just out of curiosity (and to rule out a Jin connection with Mo Xuanyu) and nothing lights up at all.

“Thank the heavens,” Jin Zixuan says.

“Eh?” Wei Wuxian says, not sure whether to be offended or not.

“You don’t understand how many surprise siblings I have,” Jin Zixuan says, looking away, with an apologetic glance at Mo Xuanyu.

“My mother would never,” Wei Wuxian states.

Jin Zixuan sighs. “There are an unfortunate number of women who would never but have not been given a choice in the matter.”

“What would it take for him to have a single consequence for his actions?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Mo Xuanyu snorts. “You mean the part where he impregnated my mother when she was a child, or where he raped another clan leader’s wife? Good luck proving it. He wouldn’t even admit Jin Guangyao was his until it served him.”

Jin Zixuan’s eyes go wide. “With this, you could prove it.”

“Yes, but who is going to take him to task? Who could?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “Everyone’s always known what he is, and no one’s stopped him.”

“Qin Cangye might, if given cause,” Jin Zixuan says slowly. “I still don’t think he knows about Qin Su’s parentage.”

“Could we test the waters? Tell him? See what happens?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I’d like to know what happens there. If it causes her long term problems, Mo Xuanyu won’t go that route the next time.”

Qin Cangye watches as the detector is tested, and shows Qin Su’s connection to Jin Zixuan, and her complete lack of connection to him. Qin-furen explains about the rape, and his face goes grim. He’s known Jin Guangshan too long to disbelieve it, though it was easy to pass off as unimportant before. Too easy. 

He demands satisfaction from Lanling, a dowry for his daughter, and a high price for the violation of honor. He uses the device to prove his case, and Jin Guangyao takes the opportunity to demonstrate his kinship to his brother within moments of learning of the device’s existence. 

The smaller clans call for Jin Guangshan to step down as Xiandu. The large clans concur. 

Lan Qiren is reluctantly pressed into the position. He pulls Mo Xuanyu aside, and whispers through clenched teeth, “If you do this over again, do whatever you must to keep me from being chief cultivator. I have neither the inclination nor the temperament for the position.”

“Who would you see in it?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “Anyone who might be alive when I would go back.”

Lan Qiren half closes his eyes, as if running down a mental list, and sighs heavily. “Jiang Fengmian would have had the temperament, and it might have given his wife something to sink her teeth into. He was very well-liked, she was very good at not suffering fools. Together, they’d have been a force to reckon with, if you could figure out how to point them in the same direction. Maybe if you can publicly dispel the rumors of Wei Wuxian’s parentage. As for other options, Nie Mingjue won’t do it. Xichen could but I’d end up having to lead the Lan much of the time, since Wangji is ill-suited to diplomacy. I would anticipate the position to require one’s full attention, especially at first.”

“Jin Guangyao was Xiandu before I began traveling,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He was good at some parts of it, but ruthless about others. I would not see that happen again.”

Mo Xuanyu turns sixteen, and everything seems to fall apart in slow motion. 

They’re making good progress. He has so many tools that he didn’t have before, so much more information, and the more he learns, the more it feels like he doesn’t know. The Wen are thriving, though they still don’t venture out much. Nie Mingjue is well, and has been for years. Lan Qiren is Xiandu, and since most of the clan and sect leaders have been his students and are conditioned to listen to him, it actually works quite well, as much as he hates it. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are disgustingly in love and generally happy, and A-Yuan is nine years old and a bright, curious child. 

Jin Guangshan’s decline in power seems to have been accompanied by an increase in tension at Lanling. Jin Ling is three, and almost always at Lotus Pier, but Jin Zixuan is required to be at Jinlintai often, and Jiang Yanli goes with him. 

Rumors, always present, have multiplied, with contradictory tales and increasing invective. The Yiling Laozu is evil, and a threat! The Yiling Laozu and Hanguang-Jun have brought light to the darkest place! Jin Zixuan is a threat to his father! His father is a threat to Jin Zixuan! The Yiling Laozu has sworn vengeance on Jin Zixuan, on all Jin! The Yiling Laozu is going to help Jin Zixuan overthrow his father! Hanguang-Jun has been seduced to cutsleevery and demonic cultivation by the Yiling Laozu and the evil Wen!

They hear about it all at the Burial Mounds through Nie Huaisang, who relays the last one with particular delight.

Lan Wangji shrugs a little, and gives an interested, “Mn,” at the idea. 

Wei Wuxian is just perplexed by the amount of attention other people want to give a lotus farmer. “I’m retired! The only time I raise corpses is if they’re unhappy where they are and want to be put to rest, because I am too weak and feeble to lift them another way!”

“You don’t even do that, Die,” A-Yuan says. “You make Tang-ge do it!” A-Yuan had become very interested in his family tree when they were developing the kinship detector, and had started calling Wen Ning ‘Tang-ge’ soon after. 

“So which of those did you plant, and which is Jin Guangyao planting?” Wen Qing asks. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“He’s planning something.” Wen Qing shakes her head. “I don’t like it.”

Jiang Yanli’s spirit reaches the Burial Mounds before the news of the disappearance of the Jin heir and his wife does. 

Mo Xuanyu sees her outside the ward, and does a double-take, and then starts to cry, great, gasping sobs, collapsing against the wardstone. Wen Ning looks terribly confused, and then alarmed, and then whispers, “I can feel someone, but I don’t know who…”

“I failed,” Mo Xuanyu says, between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I failed.” 

He reaches a hand upward, and releases the ward, just long enough for her to slip through. 

He looks up at her, holds out his hands, and slides into Empathy with her, for the second time. 

She’s happy, she’s with Jin Zixuan, they’re stopped at an inn between Lanling and Yunmeng, they’re going home to her son after an unpleasant visit with Jin Guangshan and an increasingly upset Jin-furen, who wants her grandchild brought to Jinlintai, where he belongs. 

It is late at night when the dizi wakes her, curls of resentful energy reaching out, suffocating. She can’t see anything until she dies, but then can see everything—a man in a black robe and a red ribbon in his hair, a cruel parody of her brother, laying out her body, getting someone else… in white? Wearing a mask? But she’d recognize Hanguang-Jun by his bearing, this is a poor substitute, shorter, voice sharper… 

Su Minshan, Mo Xuanyu supplies. I’d recognize his annoying whine anywhere. 

They carry her husband’s body away, and set fire to the inn. They make sure they are seen. She follows them back to Lanling, checks on her son, her brother at Lotus Pier, then goes to the only place she knows she will be heard…

We have to know what they’re planning, she tells him. We have to know how far he’ll take it.

He surfaces to Wei Wuxian roughly shaking his shoulder, Lan Wangji ringing Mo Xuanyu’s own clarity bell. 

He looks up at Wei Wuxian, eyes raw and red with horror and grief, and says, “I’m so sorry. I failed.”

“Who…” Wei Wuxian whispers.

“She wants to talk to you,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“No,” Wei Wuxian says, slumping in his husband’s arms. “Tell me it isn’t Shijie…”

“I would give anything to tell you that, but it would be a lie,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“You have to go back. You have to fix this. You have to GO! WHY are you still here?”

Mo Xuanyu rises to his knees, to his feet, and shouts, “Because she told me not to, not yet! I came back for her as much as anyone! Do you think I don’t want to?”

“I think you’ve been playing happy family for a long time,” Wei Wuxian says, smoke trailing off of his fingertips. “I think you’ve been comfortable. Are you still comfortable?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says gently, a hand on his arm. 

“Talk. To. Your. Sister.” Mo Xuanyu says. “She’s right here. You know Empathy as well as I do.”

“Do I?” Wei Wuxian asks. 

“You said it was how you survived the first time, in your notes,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“I knew the theory, and I talked to them with the dizi, the way you do, but if I’d opened myself up that way the first time, I’d have been devoured whole. I just empathized with them, and expanded the theory, but I’ve only done actual Empathy maybe twice, both by accident. And got yelled at. Shijie didn’t yell much but she yelled about that.”

Mo Xuanyu blinks. He’s performed Empathy dozens of times. Because he’d known it had worked for Wei Wuxian. But they haven’t had to rely on it with more cultivators, more resources.

“I… Fine. Sit. Open your mind. Invite her to take your hands, let her take you through it.” Mo Xuanyu watches as Wei Wuxian goes into a trance. It’s weird from the outside. 

It is almost a full shichen before Wei Wuxian finally comes out of it, weeping, but he isn’t yelling at Mo Xuanyu. 

“Come, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says softly, and just picks Wei Wuxian up, carrying him back up to the settlement. 

“Can you speak to me now?” Mo Xuanyu asks Jiang Yanli’s spirit.

yes

“We already know you can travel. Wen Qing could go anywhere. Be wary of traps and sensitives. You just want to observe. Stay away from Cloud Recesses. I’ll send a note to Lotus Pier. You can find out where they took your husband’s body. Don’t try… I know that it will be tempting to try to take action, but the best thing you can do is go undetected, and tell us what you see. It will make it easier for me to fix it next time.”

my baby

“We’ll write to Jiang-zongzhu immediately.”

She trails after him as he returns to the settlement, as he dully informs Nie Huaisang, as they work together on a letter to Jiang Wanyin, to the other clan leaders. 

Then she vanishes to go look for more information for him.

The entire village is shell-shocked. Mo Xuanyu expects the Jiang cultivators to leave, but they shake their heads. If he’s contacted their clan leader, and their clan leader hasn’t ordered them away, their duty Is here. 

“They’re going to blame us,” Wen Qing says. 

“He planned this,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Of course they will. He wants to use it to lift the Jin up.”

“If you haven’t made your talisman yet, you ought to,” she says.

“I’ll go do that,” he says softly. 

It is a lie. He does check. The talisman has been written and destroyed and rewritten countless times in the five years he’s been in this version of this life. The timing should be quite good. But there are still things he wants to learn, to take back with him. 

“Test me,” he says to Nie Huaisang.

Huaisang lets him curl down into a ball against his shoulder, and starts reading from one of the lists as Mo Xuanyu cries. 

The Second Siege

It is not surprising at all when the wards lock down the next day. Mo Xuanyu and three Jiang cultivators take to the upper wardstone to engage the more active protections, and he leaves them to maintain it. They’ve done a lot of work on stabilizing the barrier as needed; it does not require Hanguang-Jun. 

The resentful energy is thinned, compared to what it was, but the spiritual energy barrier is still strong, and the more resentment directed at it, the stronger it will fight back.

There is another gathering of cultivators at the gate, and they seem to be arguing amongst themselves. More are constantly arriving. 

Hanguang-Jun goes through the gate, fully kitted out in his Gusu Lan regalia—though he is often in simple linen while they are working, now he is in full silk, lace, guan, the works. He waits until they notice him, and the crowd falls silent.

“Why are you here.” His words are quiet but forceful.

“The Yiling Laozu has kidnapped Jin-shao-zongzhu and his wife!” someone shouts. 

“Wei Ying did not kidnap his sister,” Hanguang-Jun says. “Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan were murdered yesterday by someone who wished to blame us for it. Wei Ying was very close to his shijie, and on good terms with her husband.”

“How do you know they’re dead if you didn’t do it?” someone shouts.

Mo Xuanyu steps through the gate and activates an amplification talisman. “Because her spirit came and told us what happened. I performed Empathy with her myself.”

A large contingent of cultivators riding swords descends through the trees, and someone shouts, “Back, make way for Sandu Shengshou!”

Another voice calls out, “And Zewu-Jun! And Chifeng-Zun!”

The crowd parts and shifts and thickens. The three clan leaders land at the front. 

“Xuanyu, are you sure?” Lan Xichen asks.

Tears in his eyes, he nods. “Wei Wuxian also did. Her spirit was quite coherent.”

“Where is he?” Jiang Wanyin asks. 

“Wei Ying is under Wen Qing’s care,” Lan Wangji says. “He was nearly catatonic last night with grief.”

“What happened?” Chifeng-Zun asks.

Mo Xuanyu says, “Two people, I strongly suspect Xue Yang and Su Minshan, were dressed much as Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun dress when they are in public together. One had a guqin and the other a dizi. They suffocated them with resentful energy, took Jin Zixuan’s body away, and burned the inn with people inside.”

“Why do you suspect them in particular?” Jiang Wanyin asks.

“Because Xue Yang has been working for Jin Guangyao for years and knows how to manipulate resentful energy—we believe he still has a piece of Yin iron, and because I recognized Su Minshan’s voice. Su Minshan is very close to Jin Guangyao as well. The clothing her spirit observed was very familiar in style, but I would know my teachers’ voices and the way their bodies moved, and this was very much not them. We believe that this is the start of a push for Jin Guangyao to become heir to Lanling Jin.”

“Jin Ling is Zixuan’s heir.” Jiang Wanyin says. “If Jin Guangshan dies, Jin Ling will need a regent, but he will still be the heir.”

“And who do you think would be made regent?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

“I would assume Jin-furen,” Chifeng-Zun says.

“If I’m right, unchecked, every obstacle between Jin Guangyao and the clan leadership of Lanling Jin will be gone within two years,” Mo Xuanyu says, his voice amplified and strange. “If you listen to him, it will all make perfect, terrible sense. So sad, how his father died of his own debauchery, how Jin-furen died of grief over the loss of her son and husband. Oh, Chifeng-Zun opposes it? Well, too bad he qi-deviated, you know how the Nie are with their brutish sabers.”

“I’ve had no sign of deviation in years,” Nie Mingjue says. 

Mo Xuanyu shrugs. “There exist songs that can push a core into deviation. Su Minshan brags very much about his qin and cultivation, doesn’t he? And Jin Guangyao spent time with Zewu-Jun when Lan-zongzhu fled from the Wen, with the most critical texts of the Lan library in his possession.”

Lan Xichen opens his mouth and then closes it again, and pales. 

“My point is that my brother is dead, my saozi is dead, and all of you are here,” Mo Xuanyu says. “No one here would have hurt them, no one would have wanted to. We only knew so quickly because Saozi’s spirit was so steadfast that she came to warn us, knowing we’d be able to sense and understand her. Why are you here? Why are you not asking Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao for an account of the actions of their subordinates?”

“Su Minshan is a sect leader!” one of the smaller sect disciples says. “You have no proof! We don’t even know if they’re really dead!”

“There was a fire burning last night between Yunmeng and Lanling, still,” Jiang Wanyin says wearily. “We just came from there. We’d have been here faster, but…”

He holds up a charred object, a blackened jade lotus, partly cracked. “I have no reason to doubt Xuanyu. He has been reliable for years.”

Mo Xuanyu suddenly notices that Jiang Wanyin’s purple robes are smeared with soot. His face must have been cleaned, hastily, but the backs of his hands are still blackened, and behind his ears. His eyes are red and his face incredibly weary. 

Jiang Wanyin continues. “There were… remains. I…” He take a deep breath. “They were too burned for identification, but are consistent with Xuanyu’s report of his Empathy session. I have no reason to doubt that my sister died there, and that her husband, who would have been with her, was no longer there. Several people died in the fire. There were reports of people dressed as he said, carrying a Jin cultivator who appeared unconscious or dead. What I want to know is who told you to come here?”

“We heard that they were kidnapped,” Yao-zongzhu says. “We wanted to try to rescue them.”

“Who did you hear it from?” Jiang Wanyin persists.

“From Jin Guangyao,” Ouyang-zongzhu says. “We were at Lanling already, and he came running in saying that there was a ransom demand… Jin Guangshan wanted to pay it. We said we’d come…”

“Who was the ransom demand from? What did they want?”

“Gold, and the note was not signed, but they were instructed to leave the gold in Yiling. He didn’t say where.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, “did you play Inquiry?”

“I was too busy monitoring Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says. “Empathy can be dangerous, though we were certain she would not hurt him.”

“But he required medical treatment?” Chifeng-Zun asks.

“Dehydration. And his… He lacks a golden core to sustain him in his grief. Guzi was very important to him, he has required much support.”

“Guzi? What? Why would you call her sister-in-law?” Yao-zongzhu asks.

“Wei Ying and I have been married for six years,” Hanguang-Jun says. “His family is very important to him, and he has made tremendous sacrifices for them. Jiang Yanli requested that I call her guzi when we were wed. Our son calls her gugu.”

“You have a child? With Wei Wuxian?” Ouyang-zongzhu says, sounding perplexed.

“We adopted an orphan cousin of mine from my mother’s side of the family,” Lan Wangji says. “He is nine.”

“A little older than my A-Zhen, then.” Ouyang-zongzhu muses. “You are raising him here?” 

“He has been a happy child, growing well,” Hanguang-Jun says. “My husband’s methods are extremely effective at cleansing the soil and living spaces of resentful energy. I believe many of you have benefited from his inventions.”

“Still, I wish you’d talked to Jiang-furen,” Lan Xichen says. “If just to confirm that the spirit was indeed hers.”

“I spoke to her myself,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I would offer to show you, but I don’t believe Empathy works on the living.”

“It can work on those on the verge of death, but not those who are conscious, with an active golden core,” Jiang Wanyin says.

“We have another technique which allows mind-to-mind communication,” Lan Xichen says. “However, it can be quite… personal, and it goes in both directions. If you are willing, I would do this with you, to see what you have seen.”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “I will do it, but you won’t like what you see.”

“I would like to see with my own eyes what Jiang Yanli showed you about the cultivator pretending to be my brother,” Lan Xichen says. 

“Not here,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Can more than one person—“ Jiang Wanyin starts and then shakes his head. “No, I trust Lan-zongzhu. And I don’t want to see her die.”

Lan Xichen turns to the crowd and says, “Go home. Or back to Yiling. Nothing good will come of any attempt on this place. Please trust me to investigate fairly.”

Chifeng-Zun stands next to him, impassive, but gives a short nod at the last.

There is murmuring, but the crowd disperses.

The mind connection with Lan Xichen is done in Mo Xuanyu’s private house, which has grown to have a bedroom, an area for eating, and a small workshop with his own private library, mostly filled with books he should have no way of possessing, copied from memory from another lifetime. 

The library is hidden, and warded, a set of bookshelves recessed into a wall that is a foot shallower than it ought to be based on the exterior measurements of the house. 

They sit around the low table where Mo Xuanyu often takes meals with Nie Huaisang. Jiang Wanyin and Nie Mingjue have followed them in, to observe. 

“Explain to me how this is done, step by step,” Mo Xuanyu says, as Lan Xichen starts to lean toward him. “I may need to use it.”

Lan Xichen nods, and says, “It is simple, really. I take a small amount of spiritual energy, here—“ He touches his brow. “I visualize pulling a thread away, but I do not allow the thread to break.” His fingers come away from his forehead, glowing faintly, the connection barely visible. 

He reaches out to Mo Xuanyu’s forehead, and says, “I will a connection with your mind, but you must also will the connection as I do so. This can be easily stopped by simply not wanting it.”

Mo Xuanyu blinks at that. He wonders if it is part of the initial intention, or if a connection could be made by force, if he was not visualizing a voluntary connection. Then he shakes the thought away, and breathes out, and nods.

The fingers on his forehead tingle, a little, the cool buzz of Lan Xichen’s spiritual energy sinking into his skin, spreading out. He finds something in himself reaching for it, and then gasps when the connection opens.

“Oh! I…”

It is possible to force an unwilling connection, but such things are forbidden, and can be damaging to both the one who initiates and the one who receives. The results have been fatal in the past, on both sides.

He stares at Lan Xichen with wide eyes, and then says aloud, “It’s similar to how I speak to spirits, after Empathy.”

“Mn,” Lan Xichen agrees, speaking. “Now, can you picture in your mind what I need to see?”

Mo Xuanyu had intended to show Lan Xichen Jiang Yanli’s Empathy. But the thing that comes to mind first… 

The images come in a rush, out of order, Jin Guangyao from his first lifetime, Lan Xichen at dinner, laughing, playing. Conversations about Chifeng-Zun’s death. Jin Guangyao casually having Mo Xuanyu thrown down the stairs, the demonic cultivation, the manipulation, the rapid shifts from distraught to calculating, Lan Xichen supporting Jin Guangyao’s ascension…

Panicking, he tries to focus back on Jiang Yanli. The first thing that comes up is the first time he met her spirit, plucking grains of soul-sand from the hillsides of Qishan. The Empathy session with her, then…

“What…” Lan Xichen says aloud, frowning.

“You know I traveled in time,” Mo Xuanyu says. “This was from before.” 

“I need to see the more recent episodes, but can we come back to this?” Lan Xichen asks.

“I’ll try,” Mo Xuanyu says. And then he closes his eyes, and focuses on the moment she appeared at the wards, and lets the memory roll between them in as much detail as possible.

When he opens his eyes, Lan Xichen has tears streaming down his face. “You haven’t seen her since?”

“She was going to check out Jinlintai. If there was a spirit trap there…” 

“Could you find her, if you went there?” Jiang Wanyin asks. 

“If my father catches me there—“ Mo Xuanyu starts. Then he says, “But I might be able to go without being detected. Possibly. There’s a talisman, it makes people not notice me.”

“Does it have the same effect on wards and alarms?” Jiang Wanyin asks. 

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. Then he tips his head to one side and says, “It’s possible I could teach you how to look for her, though. If you get caught, they wouldn’t dare keep you.”

He shows Lan Xichen the other things the Lan clan leader had wanted to see, the older, alternate memories. It is frustrating to Mo Xuanyu that his perspective of his first lifetime is so limited. He can’t tell Lan Xichen what happened after the Burial Mounds for the Lan; though he knows about A-Yuan becoming Lan Sizhui, he doesn’t know why he never, ever met Lan Wangji or Lan Sizhui at Jinlintai. 

He cannot tell him exactly how Nie Mingjue died, only that Jin Guangyao stole his body and turned it into a fierce corpse and lost control and dismembered it. That alone leaves Lan Xichen reeling, but the connection goes both ways, and Mo Xuanyu can feel that Lan Xichen does not have the fierce loyalty to Jin Guangyao that was so clear in his first lifetime.

It is harrowing, later, creeping around Jinlintai under a don’t-look-here with Jiang Wanyin.

No one is looking for them, and so the talismans work very well, but the low call he makes to Jiang Yanli’s spirit conjures up nothing, and the wards are very different from what he remembers. He’d had a hand in many of them by the time he’d been thrown out, but this time, Jin Guangyao has had neither Wei Wuxian’s notes nor Mo Xuanyu’s work on them. 

It’s inconvenient, if probably safer. They’re able to spot the wards quickly, but there’s only so far they can go without setting anything off. 

When they return to the Burial Mounds, Jin Guangshan is in Yiling, preparing to mount an offensive against the gate. 

Mo Xuanyu keeps the don’t-look-here active as Jiang Wanyin and the other clan leaders go down to meet his father, but comes with them because he must, must hear this, must be ready.

There is still work to be done, he still wants more time, but he cannot stand the thought of this family dying again at his father’s hand. He would rather die, and that’s the crux of it, that every time he travels in time, there is that risk that he won’t wake up at the other end. Fear has been holding him here, and love, but for love, he would try… gladly.

“Xiandu asked us to investigate,” Chifeng-Zun is telling Jin Guangshan. “Lan Xichen has seen Jiang Yanli’s last memories, and can absolutely guarantee that the person who was wearing Lan clothing and carrying your son’s body was not his brother. He says the voice is consistent with Su She. We believe his companion was Xue Yang.”

“The letter said my son is alive!” Jin Guangshan insists. 

Mo Xuanyu steps out from behind the clan leaders without thinking, deactivates his talisman, and says, “If you were to go against the Yiling Laozu right now, there is a strong chance that you and your most loyal disciples would be killed, because the defenses of the Burial Mounds are very strong and can respond proportionally. I would ask you who would benefit from your death, and from my da-ge’s death.”

“Boy, you are coming home with me today,” Jin Guangshan says, voice low and angry.

“I’ll just leave again,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Listen to my words. Who would benefit from your death? Who has been working with Xue Yang, at your request? Who tried to keep you from banning Su-zongzhu from Jinlintai when he tried to curse Jin Zixun? And then ask yourself who stopped that curse from being effective, allowed you to track that curse back to its source, and loved Jiang Yanli with his whole heart?” 

“If you’re right, you will be the only son I have left,” Jin Guangshan says. “You must come learn.”

“Jin Ling is the legitimate heir,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I would not want to infringe upon that. I am too young to regent, and do not have the temperament to lead the Jin.”

“You say that as if you think I am going to die,” Jin Guangshan says, almost snarling.

“If you do not remove the one who would benefit the most from your death, you will die within a year, two at most, and it will look like—“ Mo Xuanyu pauses for a moment to choose his words, “—natural causes. And if you die, your wife will die, too, because she hates him, and he hates her too.”

“How can you know this? What are you, boy?”

Lan Xichen steps forward and says, “We have learned, in the past few years, that your son here has rare insight into motivations and possible outcomes. His mind is highly strategic, and he sees nuances others miss. My shufu thinks very highly of him, and was hoping he would come study this year or the next at Cloud Recesses. When he offers advice, I take it.”

Jin Guangshan’s face roils with conflicting emotions. “My eldest is dead. That whore-son, if you are correct, caused it or conspired to cause it. And you’re expecting me to take advice from a stripling who refuses any semblance of filial duty?”

“I cannot and will not live at Jinlintai,” Mo Xuanyu says. “But I am offering you the best I am able, the information you need to live to see your grandchild grow up. You need to stop all three of them, at once. They use teleportation talismans. They are skilled at obfuscation, poison, and political machination. You need to stop your ridiculous vendetta against my mentors, because they have helped your family in spite of your horrific treatment of people they care about.” He doesn’t wait for a response before activating his own teleportation talisman.

Wen Qing and Lan Wangji are still at Wei Wuxian’s side when he appears in the array across the wide open main room of the only-partially-restored palace. 

“Is there fighting?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No, I just couldn’t keep talking to Jin-zongzhu,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“That implies you were able to talk to him at all,” says Wen Qing.

“I wouldn’t,” Lan Wangji mutters.

“He was going to launch an offensive. I pointed out that he would die, and that there was one person who would benefit from that happening, who just so happens to be close to the two people we’re fairly sure killed Da-ge.”

“Did it work?” Wei Wuxian says from the bed where Wen Ning had lain for so long. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t stay to find out,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I’m so sorry, but we tried to find her, and couldn’t.”

“You have to… why am I still able to talk to you? Why haven’t you gone back?” Wei Wuxian asks. 

“Because I don’t know how to stop them! I can go back, but then what? We can protect the clans, the Dafan Wen, but how do we stop this? I need to see if it is even possible for my father to do the right thing.”

“Make sure we kill Xue Yang before Qinghe,” Lan Wangji says. “It would not have taken much.”

“Send Su She on an important mission,” Wei Wuxian says. “Make sure he’s elsewhere when the Wen attack. Keep an eye on him.”

Wen Qing says, “Have Chifeng-Zun send Meng Yao to Qishan. And put him on my list.”

“Qing-jie—“ Wei Wuxian says. 

“You don’t know how easy it would be for someone to simply disappear in Nightless City,” Wen Qing says. “And if it will buy freedom and peace for my family and yours? Compromising my ideals is a small price to pay, and will bring fewer regrets than this— “ she waves her hand, indicating everything.

“I’m still not ready to go back,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“I invented that talisman,” Wei Wuxian says. “I can recreate it.”

“It fucking killed you,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Your husband would never forgive you.”

“Enough,” Wen Qing says. “You both need rest. Let the leaders sort this out. The wards will wake you if there’s something you need to deal with.”

When Mo Xuanyu wakes the next morning, Wen Qing is sitting cross-legged next to his bed, watching him.

He blinks at her. “Qing-jie?”

“You’re going to travel,” she says. “He won’t let you put it off for much longer, now that his sister is gone.”

He sighs. “Probably. I’m hoping to eke out another year if I can.”

“You’re not wrong,” she says. “But I think you need to…” She sighs at her hands twisting in her lap. “I think you should connect to my mind. I think I should tell you everything I know about the things I hid from you before.” She bites her lips.

“You don’t have to, Qing-jie,” he says.

“But I think I do. You need… you need to be able to show it to me, to explain it to some version of me who won’t have tried… I learned things from it that we might need, even if we never— even if you succeed in protecting me from ever having to do it again.” She looks at him and gives him a tiny smile. “You’re our time capsule, for better or worse. You protect what must not be lost, even if it must never happen.”

He reaches for her, wraps his arms around her. He’s bigger than she is, as tall as he was as an adult in his first life, though in this one he has yet to stop growing. 

She sobs against his shoulder and he realizes she’s whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, you’re too young to be taking care of me, and you’re too young to see this, and you’re going to be younger before this is through.”

“Shhh,” he says. “I’m older than you were, really. I’m almost twenty-nine.”

“You’re still sixteen,” she says. 

“This is literally what I’m still here for,” he says.

“In our doomed future.” She pulls back, wipes her eyes.

“In our doomed future. I’m happy to take whatever you want to show me back to you.” He summons a thread of power, holds his hand out to her.

She takes it, and presses it to her own forehead.

Interregnum

Mo Xuanyu learns later that the clan leaders returned to Jinlintai intent upon finding Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang, and Su Minshan, but found them gone and Jin Zixun dead. 

All the major clans issue statements that the three are now wanted criminals, with a reward offered for their capture, dead or alive. 

Lan Qiren, as Xiandu, calls for a discussion conference and invites Mo Xuanyu personally to come for a stay at Cloud Recesses for educational purposes. There is no lecture series planned, but he is promised extensive access to the Cloud Recesses library and personal tutoring by the chief cultivator himself, and there is no good reason to refuse him. 

Moling seals itself off from the outside world. The Moling Su being the Moling Su, their barrier is shitty and probably breakable with enough top cultivators, but there are several funerals to be held, and the clans set watchers to see that it remains sealed. 

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t hear about that until after the funerals, which he attends. His father does not speak to him. He leaves from the funeral for Cloud Recesses, accompanied by Lan Xichen. 

He doesn’t ask to stay at the Burial Mounds, not with Wei Wuxian’s gaze upon him at every turn with bleak intensity. The man doesn’t have to say out loud what his eyes are screaming: Why are you still here?

Cloud Recesses is as it has always been for him, though the war scars are more healed than the last time he was here, the trees grown up. There are no buildings under construction now. 

Lan Xichen excuses himself and leaves Mo Xuanyu to a junior disciple as soon as they arrive. 

The disciple introduces himself as Lan Yunru, and leads Mo Xuanyu back through the Cloud Recesses to a little house separate from the main mass of buildings. 

The placard over the gate says “Jingshi,” and Lan Yunru says, “This house belongs to Hanguang-Jun, but he sent word that it should be made available for your use while you are here, so that you may have greater privacy for your studies. May I ask how old you are?”

“This one is sixteen,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Huh, I’m surprised they didn’t have you in the dormitories with us. You’re the same age as I am.” Lan Yunru’s expression is mild, and his tone carries none of the belligerence such a question could have carried in Jinlintai.

“I have been under private instruction with Hanguang-Jun and Wei Wuxian,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I believe that Xiandu wants to evaluate me before risking, er, contaminating the students here with the—“ he hesitates, looking for a word.

“The Yiling Laozu’s heretical path?” Lan Yunru supplies.

“Just so,” Mo Xuanyu says ruefully. “It’s necessary for where we live, but Xiandu approaches it with caution. Quite necessary caution,” he adds hurriedly. “In less careful hands, the ghostly path can be very destructive, both to the practitioner and to the rest of the world. I wasn’t planning on teaching it to anyone here, but there’s a lot I’d like to learn, and we’ve made a lot of progress with other areas of cultivation study.”

“Well, I don’t want to learn any wicked tricks, but if you would like to join us at mealtimes, they’re quiet enough that no one will ask you about such things.”

“Hanguang-Jun’s meals are always silent,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Except for Xian-gege, who would probably have to be gagged to keep his mouth shut. It won’t be a problem.”

A dumbfounded pause. “You call the Yiling Laozu Xian-gege?” Lan Yunru finally says.

“He’s actually really kind,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Remember that Hanguang-Jun is one of the most righteous cultivators of their generation, and Hanguang-Jun is utterly devoted to his husband, and says that he is the most righteous one of all. I have always found him very brotherly. He would rather die than hurt someone he loves. He sees it as his life-mission to help those who need help. He’s just very talkative when he’s happy.”

The Cloud Recesses are peaceful and calming and Mo Xuanyu finds himself wondering what his life would have been, growing up here, with the structure and the rules. He thinks having thousands of rules spelled out feels safer, somehow than the unspoken rules of Lanling Jin, the rules that changed depending on who you were talking to, the rules which you only learned by breaking them. But he misses the Burial Mounds. 

Notes appear on the Jingshi desk frequently, in Lan Wangji’s elegant hand, occasionally augmented by Wei Wuxian’s scrawl, or on the best days, a drawing from A-Yuan.

He breakfasts with the disciples and spends his mornings in practice and meditation, then lunches with Lan Xichen, and spends his afternoons in the library. He is with Lan Qiren most evenings. 

It is then that he learns of the current state of Moling Su, a week after he arrives.

He tells Lan Qiren, “You know they use teleportation talismans.”

Lan Qiren says, “Those are incredibly draining for the cultivator. They would be unable to do much damage if they use them to leave.”

Mo Xuanyu sighs, and pulls out one of the several charged talismans he carries. “Wei Wuxian and I figured out how to pre-charge them. We did not share the information with them, but they may have discerned from the fact that Wei Wuxian was able to use one that we had done it, and figured out how.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes widen, and he takes the proffered talisman with a less than steady hand. 

“You think they could?” he asks, studying the talisman.

“The change is obvious if you know that storing energy in a talisman long term can be done,” he says. “And I use the technique in a lot of the talismans I make. It allows non-cultivators to use them without resorting to resentful energy.”

He pulls out a handful of the trade talismans he’s crafted. 

“Wei Wuxian did this?” Lan Qiren asks.

“I did,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Once I understood qiankun theory and Wei Wuxian’s notes, in my first life… his methods for creating novel talismans for specific uses mean that if you understand the language, you can make a talisman for many different purposes on the fly. I never had a lot of spiritual energy, but I could charge something slowly, and charging things helped strengthen my core over time.”

“You’re very strong now,” Lan Qiren says. “Almost as strong as Wangji, I believe.”

“I’ve been training since I was ten, and already had a strong core because of the time travel. It’s why I haven’t already gone back. I am worried that showing up in the body of an eight-year-old with a powerful adult core…”

“Hm, yes,” Lan Qiren says. “Can you shape how you enter your past self with the talisman you use? Make it easier on your young body?”

“Mn,” Mo Xuanyu says noncommittally. “I am not discussing the particulars of that talisman with anyone, for reasons which should be obvious.”

“If Wei Wuxian knew exactly what you’d done to fix his work, he’d already be gone,” Lan Qiren says.

“His memory isn’t good enough to be the one to jump,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Nie Huaisang tried, and it killed him, but worse, he doesn’t understand cultivation theory as thoroughly as Xian-gege and I both do. And Xian-gege has a terrible memory for faces.”

“I am uncomfortable with your ghostly path,” Lan Qiren says, “However, I will say that you are not an impulsive child, and between you and Wei Wuxian, I think your assessment is correct.”

“The ghostly path requires caution and support,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He did not have time for caution, and before, had no support at all. I believe it is much better this time.”

“I do not suppose you know what part I had in it, last time?” Lan Qiren asks.

“Very little,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I saw you a few times, but we never spoke, and while I spent more time with Xichen-ge, I was his sworn brother’s useless, weak half-brother, and he did not notice me much. I worked very hard not to be noticed. But I know that Laoshi was in seclusion for three years after Wei Wuxian’s death, and I know that he adopted A-Yuan during that time, and I know that Xichen-ge was both worried about his brother and deeply proud of his nephew. How do you think you would have responded, if you’d thought Xian-gege guilty of the things he was accused of, and Laoshi had defended him, adopted his child?”

Lan Qiren winces. “I cannot know for certain, but my perspective on Wei Wuxian has shifted dramatically since…”

“Since I showed up,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Ah. Yes.” 

Lan Qiren looks at the talisman, and says, “You know you’re making another jump. I believe… I believe I need to teach you how to hide your talismans, to prevent such mischief in the future.”

“Hide? But they need to be visible in order to work, don’t they?”

“Ah, no,” Lan Qiren says. “I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it, the method is similar to the one you use for communication. Why is it always the second paper which bears the message, and the first bears the light?”

“Because it would ignite, if it was exposed to the air when the char is created,” Mo Xuanyu answers quickly. “The light happens when the message is finished, a secondary set of radicals not necessary to the function of the first.”

“Oh?” Lan Qiren asks. “And why did you create it that way?”

“The light? To call attention to the message. Sending it without is useful when the recipient does not have complete privacy, but often results in delays.”

“Have you considered that talismans may be hidden?”

“Of course,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“And have you considered that the best place to hide a talisman is under another talisman?” Lan Qiren asks.

“But that’s not a long term-solution,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

Lan Qiren stands, goes over to a cabinet, and pulls out a lacquered box. Bringing it back to the table, he opens it, and begins removing things. A small burner. A pot. Several smaller boxes. Talisman papers.

“You have made extensive use of stitched talismans, as I would expect of a Jin,” Lan Qiren says. “And the metal, stone, and wood wards and talismans you’ve created are very clever. But to protect a proprietary technique, where misuse is a risk, we have another option, one which makes the paper talisman both more durable and impossible to duplicate.”

Mo Xuanyu watches, eyes wide, as Lan Qiren takes a standard light talisman and two blank talisman papers, and lays the first blank one down. He pulls a few transparent flakes of isinglass out of one of the little boxes, and puts it in the tiny pot, adding a little liquid from a vial, and stirring them over the small oil burner. 

He takes a wide, flat brush out, paints the blank talisman with the glue, and then places the already-finished talisman face down onto the blank. He adds a bit of lampblack to the isinglass, mixing them together quickly but with a care for bubbles, then paints the back of the talisman with the sticky ink, then applies the second blank on top of it. 

A breath of spiritual energy sets the inks and glue, and he holds it out to Mo Xuanyu. “If you had not seen the talisman first, would you have any way of telling what’s inside?”

Mo Xuanyu holds the talisman up to the light. The blacking of the back has obscured the talisman. 

“If someone peeled them apart?” he asks.

“Any technique which dissolves the glue will dissolve the talisman ink and the paper.”

“It doesn’t interfere with the function?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Try it.”

A cool light spreads from the talisman, bright and slightly blue. Mo Xuanyu smiles.

“The surface touching the talisman ink must use clear glue, or function will be impeded,” Lan Qiren says. 

“Do you have any texts on the subject?” Mo Xuanyu asks, deactivating the talisman.

“I will pull the relevant materials and have them delivered to the Jingshi,” Lan Qiren says. “Can you think about whether it is possible to block teleportation into or out of an area?”

Mo Xuanyu’s breath catches and then he nods. “I might need Xian-gege for that.”

“I will speak to Wangji and see if his husband is able and willing to join us.”

The Lan send four cultivators to replace Hanguang-Jun at the Burial Mounds. Jin Guangshan has retreated back to Lanling, and is licking his wounds, but he still periodically sends angry messages to Lan Qiren demanding that his son and grandson be returned to Jinlintai. Jiang Wanyin insists that Jin Ling is safer in Lotus Pier, and Lan Qiren agrees, as Lotus Pier has better defenses than the Jin. 

A week later, Wei Wuxian rides into the Cloud Recesses on a donkey led by Hanguang-Jun, with nine-year-old A-Yuan sitting in front of him. They have, inexplicably, named the donkey “Bunny.” 

The Jingshi is full to bursting the first few days, but then A-Yuan’s newest friend, Lan Jingyi, drags him off to the children’s dormitory, and he ends up staying there for the duration. Then Lan Qiren suggests to Mo Xuanyu that he might prefer one of the Twin Jades' childhood bedrooms to sharing a rather small house with Wei Wuxian and his husband. 

He moves in with Lan Qiren. It is very quiet, in a restful sort of way.

It has always been incredibly rewarding to work with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but working with both of them and Lan Qiren at the same time is the most intellectually interesting time of Mo Xuanyu’s lives. 

It's not as happy as it has been—Wei Wuxian is still raw and grieving. But he's also focused. 

Lan Xichen joins them, utterly fascinated with the theory. Their work in barrier formation and spiritual energy confinement is revolutionary. 

They create a delayed teleportation talisman, one which can be attached to something or someone and triggered, sending whoever or whatever to the designated location a set amount of time after triggering. This allows them to test their barriers with objects.

Mo Xuanyu also develops a teleportation amulet, one which can be keyed to several preset arrays in different places and recharged with spiritual or resentful energy.

They test first whether it is possible to put an object into a qiankun pouch and have it teleport out with a delayed talisman.

The result is a nonfunctioning qiankun pouch and a missing piece of bamboo. It’s not at the destination place, and it’s not in the qiankun pouch, which is now just a pouch, the embroidery just embroidery. Curious, Mo Xuanyu checks the array disk in the bottom of the pouch, and finds it crumbled into dust. 

Wei Wuxian winces. “That’s expensive.”

Mo Xuanyu blinks at him. “I’ll just make a new one.”

“Teach me how, this time,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“How do you—“ Mo Xuanyu was going to say, “come up with a time travel talisman without knowing how qiankun pouches are made?” but he stops himself, because this was the missing piece for him, this was what allowed him the knowledge to fix the time travel talisman. Had Wei Wuxian known how qiankun pouches neatly tear a small gap in reality, form a pocket in another sort of space, and keep it stable, he wouldn’t have had to wait until just before death to activate it, and would have know how to make the talisman work more reliably… and… 

“How do I?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Never mind,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’ll make another one, but it’s proprietary clan knowledge.”

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes, but doesn’t press. He says, “Right, so we can break the ability of the object to transport, but it vanishes completely and destroys the trap.”

Later, Lan Wangji pulls Mo Xuanyu aside and says, “You realized something, earlier. You don’t care about proprietary knowledge any more than Wei Ying does. What did you realize?”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “I realized why he couldn’t perfect his time travel talisman and also realized why it is imperative that he never try it. Mine—it uses the golden core. Not just spiritual energy, but the actual golden core. It doesn’t require much of one, but without one? Mine would have no way to neatly separate the spiritual cognition from the physical body and maintain the cognition during the travel.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes go wide and he breathes in sharply.

“Yeah,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I did mine the way I did because I knew his… his everything had basically scattered, body, spirit, all of it, and I thought it was because of the added radicals from the blood, but it was more than that. I used the core to tie my cognition up like a package. He has no way to do that.”

Mo Xuanyu looks Lan Wangji in the eyes. “Please, please do not let him push it. We know mine works. We know that his and the one Sang-ge made were both lethal in completely different ways. A better understanding of qiankun theory would give him just enough information to be able to kill himself faster, but it wouldn’t actually let him travel in time.”

Lan Wangji blanches, the most expression most people would ever see on the man. “Time travel and qiankun pouches are connected?” he finally manages.

“The theory of qiankun pouches at Lanling Jin has a giant hole in it, actual missing documents and one which cuts off in the middle. I believe someone figured it out and then removed it. Once I saw Xian-gege’s work from the other side, I realized they were two parts of the same thing. It’s very dangerous, and should never be common knowledge. I will never give this knowledge to another person. There’s a reason I hesitate to use it, even now.”

“The argument that you need as much information and as many tools as possible is a logical one,” Lan Wangji says. “Even now, you are actively developing tools which would be of great import in preventing future harm.”

“But you see why I can’t let Xian-gege develop his time travel talisman,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“I understand,” Lan Wangji says.

“And if someone did figure it out, if they go back to before I’m ten years old, everything we’ve built upon will be lost if they can’t remember how to do it,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hums, looking concerned.

“I… I know it is arrogant to say I’m the only one who can, but I am the only one who can retain what needs to be retained, work with the ghostly path, and travel as needed.” He looks away. “If he does manage something, they have to do a shorter test jump. They have to. I know the instinct will be to go back all the way, but I’ve worked so hard, for so long… I’ve literally devoted most of my waking time for almost fifteen years to maximizing our chances of success on the next jump. Please, please, you have to watch for it.”

Lan Wangji nods. 

Creating a barrier that bounces a teleporting object back to the starting point ends up being less a qiankun matter and more of a mirror trick. It takes them months. Mo Xuanyu turns seventeen at Cloud Recesses. 

Unfortunately, by the time it is set up around Moling, two of the fugitives have already escaped. They’d known that someone was teleporting out and buying food, but when they stop the teleporting from working; and the interior ward comes down for the Su sect disciples to come out to surrender, only Su Minshan remains.

Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao are in the wind. 

Assassinations

Su Minshan’s trial is, much like Su Minshan himself, nasty, brutish, and short. He is executed, his sect dismantled, the disciples are reluctantly (on both sides) sent to Cloud Recesses for retraining and evaluation. The Cloud Recesses adds anti-teleportation mirrors to the ward system, to prevent them from leaving (or others from arriving.) 

For the sake of Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu, target arrays for their own teleportation amulets are hidden near the front gate. 

A week later, Nie Huaisang sends a frantic he’s here message to Lan Wangji in the Jingshi, but by the time Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Mo Xuanyu arrive in the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue has qi deviated, and Jin Guangyao has disappeared with his body. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Mo Xuanyu says to Lan Wangji. “You two know that he’ll be heading to Lanling next, most likely. He’ll go after our father. A-Yuan is safe in Cloud Recesses, as safe as anyone.”

Mo Xuanyu is not wrong. Jin Guangyao does go after his father next, but Xue Yang goes to Lotus Pier at the same time. He doesn’t teleport in, and they’re not sure how he gets around the defensive wards, but the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang flies to the gates of the Cloud Recesses to report that both Jiang Wanyin and Jin Ling have been murdered in their sleep. 

Jin Guangyao kills his father and his stepmother himself, drugging their last meal in disguise, leaving Lanling Jin and Yunmeng Jiang with no heirs whatsoever. It is small comfort that Lan Wangji catches him in the shadows and kills him on the spot. 

Mo Xuanyu learns all of this a week later, when a red-eyed Wei Wuxian tumbles off Bichen before Lan Wangji has even landed completely, and stumbles into the Unclean Realm to shake him and tell him, “You must go. This cannot stand! If you don’t, I will!”

That’s when the wards they all carry for the Burial Mounds go off. 

They all four teleport to the Burial Mounds, to find Xue Yang laughing on a roof, watching Wen Ning do battle with fierce corpses, many of whom… are the Dafan Wen.

Wei Wuxian takes Xue Yang’s piece of Yin iron with less than a thought, just a short, sharp whistle, and then chokes the life out of Xue Yang with the next breath. 

He drops Xue Yang’s corpse like a bag of rocks, turns to Mo Xuanyu, and says, eyes blazing red, voice low and terrible, “Do it now.”

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and activates—

Part 5: Fourth Loop

Chapter 21: Age 8

Mo Village

He wakes to his mother sobbing again, with the village healer puttering around the room and his aunt in the corner with a complex expression on her face. 

He inhales deeply, blinking, and then glances down at his body. Oh, that’s going to take some getting used to.

Eight. He’s small, smaller than he was last time by a hand or more, and there is energy buzzing under his skin.

“Thirsty,” he says, and his mother wails. His aunt rolls her eyes and steps forward to give him something to drink. 

The water helps. His core, oh, he was strong before, but this… He feels… He has to get out of here.

“How long?” he asks.

“Days,” the healer says, putting a hand on his forehead. “You were feverish at first, but then just completely limp for days.”

“What’s the date?” he asks. 

They give it to him. He has a couple of days to get his messages out, but the energy crawling under his skin… 

He sits up, assesses. He’s in a simple sleep garment. He looks around and says, “Can I bathe?”

The healer feels his wrist, though he’s certain the man can’t detect spiritual energy, and then says, “I suppose. Kids sometimes bounce back like that.” The last is directed at his aunt.

“Hmph,” she says. “Well, I have things to do.”

His mother is just staring at them all. “He was on death’s door and now he’s fine?”

“I want to get clean, and I want to eat, and I want to go play,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

She nods, dazed.

Dafan

It takes him a day to gather his resources and find a chance to sneak away. Staying busy keeps his brain from going back to his last moments in the other timeline. That and knowing that the disasters are erased.

Ziyuan is too young to have money now, so he chances his aunt’s office and comes away with the things he needs, draws an old-fashioned teleportation talisman and gratefully dumps the excess spiritual energy into that, landing at the place Wen Qing recommended, so many years in the future, at the little Wen village at Dafan Mountain.

Popo looks so young, and Wen Yuan, orphaned already, is a little dumpling of a baby, all fat cheeks and giggles.

He tells her that he’s run from an unkind family, and that he needs a safe place to be for a bit, and that if she can hide him for a little, he might be able to help her family find a safe haven from the coming war.

It doesn’t surprise her at all, the idea that war is coming. She looks at him long and hard and says, “The day I throw a child out of my house is the day you’ll know I’m possessed.”

Lan Wangji 1

He writes letters, one after the other. The first is to Lan Wangji, because he knows the Jingshi so very well. It explains the communication method, and provides a sketch of the communication talisman and of Mo Xuanyu’s stack of papers, and their exact location. They have practiced this, in the future, and it should work. If it doesn’t, he’ll teleport to Cloud Recesses directly. But the plan will work better if he can start here, in this time.

I know this will sound completely implausible, he writes, but I have traveled in time, and in our future, you and I knew each other well. You told me about your mother, and how you waited for her, and I know that about a day ago, you betrothed your future husband, Wei Wuxian, in the Cold Pond Cave, in front of Lan Yi. You think you will not tell him, because you do not wish to obligate him to a life with you. But I believe you have loved him in every lifetime I’ve known about, and you very much wanted me to tell you that he would, in fact, love you back, given the least sign of your true feelings. 

But that is not why I’m writing. I know you’ve been given a quest for the other pieces of Yin iron. And I know that you are days from leaving. And leave you must, but not to follow the trail the Yin iron leads you on. I know where each of the pieces is, and I believe that I can help you retrieve them, but if you proceed as originally planned, it will result in the burning of your clan, the complete destruction of Lotus Pier, and years of war and strife. If you listen to me, right now, and wait for the rest of the messages I will send, and then do as I suggest, we have a chance to prevent most of the ills that are coming. 

Here is the communication talisman that I am using… Write a message, copy the talisman in cinnabar ink, place it on top of the message you wish to send, and activate it while visualizing clearly this stack of papers on this desk, which is in the village at the foot of Dafan mountain. I will let you know if it works. Please attempt it now, and let me know if you are willing to help me.

Mo Xuanyu

He continues writing in the time it takes for a response to appear. When it does, he brushes the glowing top sheet away, and reads eagerly. 

I do not know who you are, or how you know what you know, but it is no surprise that the cultivation world tips on the edge of war, and I will do whatever I can to prevent that from happening. Please let me know what I may do to assist.

Lan Wangji

Mo Xuanyu immediately sets the next message in front of himself and activates the next talisman. 

It is a set of instructions for the wardstones and fireproofing talismans for the Cloud Recesses, with descriptions of their purposes and where they should be placed. 

Wen Qing 1

The sheet after that is a list of the coming missives and who will be receiving them. He suggests that Lan Wangji assemble Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian, Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, Jin Zixuan, Luo Qingyang, Wen Qing, and the Jiang siblings, as they will need to work together. That he understands why this might seem a strange list, but that Wen Qing is key to the coming missions.

The next letter is to Wen Qing. 

Wen Qing

Years from now, I called you Qing-jie and lived with you and Ning-ge and Popo and A-Yuan in a refugee village with Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian rescued your family and resurrected your brother from the dead, earning the enmity of the cultivation world, for the Wens had lost the war, and while your family was mostly nonviolent non-cultivators, they were still caught up in the sweep following Wen Ruohan’s death. 

You told me about how your brother had lost a shred of his spiritual cognition to the dancing goddess statue when Wen Ruohan stole her Yin iron heart, how your parents died at the same time, how you’ve never liked working for him, and that if you’d known before it all began how much it would all devastate your family, you would have killed Wen Ruohan and Wen Zhuliu in their sleep, no matter what your family precepts. 

I think I can save all of the Dafan Wen and Wen Ning, but it will take careful coordination. You, yourself, are uniquely positioned to potentially stop the war before it starts. I can tell you that no matter what else, Wen Ruohan will lose, and that he must lose, because if he obtains three pieces of Yin iron, it will consume any shred of humanity he has left, and he will attempt to unleash hell on earth, and the first to fall will be Wen. He will threaten your brother. Wen Chao will not hesitate to use the Yin iron on your entire family at Dafan mountain, a few weeks from now. Xue Yang will wipe out an entire clan in less time than that. 

I ask that you pledge yourself to the cause with Lan Wangji, and with any who join us.

I came back in time to help you, to help them, because I have never had a home so sweet as the tiny little village I shared with them, and it was your deepest wish that we save as many people as could be saved.

Also, in my history, due to the actions of Wen Zhuliu, you ended up having to do a core transplant between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and while it was successful, and a medical miracle, it was also something you described as the worst thing you’d ever done, and you do not want to do it again. 

Mo Xuanyu, known to you as A-Yu

Wei Wuxian 1

He does not wait for a response before sending the message for Wei Wuxian.

Xian-gege

I called you that, several years in the future, when I arrived on your doorstep to tell you I’d come from the future and I wanted to learn what you know. You asked me how I’d managed it, and I said that you’d made a time travel talisman, but that it hadn’t worked, and that I fixed it. 

The irony now is that I am now younger still, but you will still want to call me Yu-gege, because you figured out very quickly that I was older than you. At this point my lived experience is thirty years. I have never been older than age twenty-four. I was seventeen before my last jump. I’d been hoping to hold on a few years longer, but your siblings had just died, and most of the people you cared about, and you begged me to go, so I did, and here I am.

I asked you what I should tell you that would make you believe that I am what and who I say I am, and that I know you well, and you said, “Tell me that I formed my golden core throwing off a brindled dog who wanted to eat me in Yiling. I tell everyone else I did it to stay warm.”

When I was fourteen, the first time, I started golden core training, and it was very weak. Every time travel jump has increased my core. I am currently in an eight-year-old body, and my core is so strong that I was able to use a standard teleportation talisman, and have enough energy left over to write more than a dozen talismans and their accompanying letters. I’m not tired yet. I am terribly afraid of getting this wrong, because if I have to go back any farther, it could send me into qi deviation. The only way I’m avoiding it right now is by dumping a lot of energy into talismans.

I bring with me years of collaborative work that you and I have done together, the years of work you did alone the first time, and enough information to save Lotus Pier, stop a war before it starts, and hopefully allow you to marry your future husband and adopt your son in peace. He has already tied his wrist to yours, and you have completed your first bow. 

I know about the Yin iron, and I know about your speculation about resentful energy. You are not wrong, but also, you should not delve down that path without supervision. It tore you apart. If you can stand to learn from a cultivator stuck in the body of an eight-year-old, I can teach you how to cultivate the ghostly path safely, with your husband at your side. I believe we can keep you from lasting harm. Together, we should be able to stop the war before it burns the world. My first great teacher was you. My last great teacher was Lan Qiren. Together, you and I worked with him to create some of the strongest defensive wards the cultivation world has seen. 

Your infant son has already been born, he is here with me, with his grandmother, at the foot of Dafan Mountain. He is already an orphan.

In one lifetime, this child was the heir of Gusu Lan. The next lifetime, he was already studying there, best friends with a little boy named Lan Yei, courtesy Jingyi, who is a few months younger. Before the end, you and your husband were staying in the Jingshi, where you are right now. 

You are important to me. I came back in the first place to help save your shijie, who was very kind to me, even as a ghost. She loved you very much, and made it easy for me to care about you and the people you love. Please let me help you. The next sheet will be instructions for Jiang Wanyin, and will contain wards you and I developed together, for the defense of Lotus Pier. I’m hoping we can prevent the attack that killed Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan from happening, but if it does come, these may completely prevent loss of life if applied thoroughly and used correctly. There is just enough time to create and install them. 

Mo Xuanyu, or Yu-gege

Jiang Wanyin

Mo Xuanyu shakes out his hand, sends spiritual energy to his fingertips, and sends the next letter.

Jiang Wanyin

It is strange to me not to call you Jiang-zongzhu, but you told me years from now that your dearest desire was to not have to step into that role in the first place, at least not for a couple decades more. At the time, you were raising your nephew, following the death of your sister and her husband at the hands of my half-brother, Meng Yao. 

You told me once that when your brother came to live with you, you were required to give away your puppies, Princess, Jasmine, and Love, so named because of their markings, a funny white crown and royal mittens on her front two feet for Princess, flower marks on Jasmine's sides, and a large white triangle on Love's chest.

You told me that giving them up broke your heart, but was worth it, for your brother.

War is coming. Your father thinks that if he just goes along with what Wen Ruohan wants, Lotus Pier can escape the coming conflict. But it is impossible for just men to comply with atrocity and remain just. Wen Ruohan will commit atrocities. 

An attack is likely at Lotus Pier a number of months from now. They will lure your father away, and then your mother will sacrifice herself to save you, and almost everyone will die. You will lose your core, and your brother will have Wen Qing cut his core out to give to you. 

We can prevent all of it. 

These wards were designed by Wei Wuxian, me, and you, and were thoroughly tested in the future. Please follow the instructions exactly, and place them as indicated on the existing ward locations. They are unlike anything you’ve seen, because they use the resentful energy of attacking forces to reflect their own attacks. The resentful energy is consumed that way, and the attacks deflected. The more aggressive the attack, the more violent the reflection. They are not demonic cultivation, as they do not create resentful energy, nor do they rob people of will or cause possession. Wei Wuxian, in another life, called it the ghostly path, but it is simply a way of taking the natural resentment generated by hostile invaders and turning it back upon them. There are also spiritual ward enhancements, and a better overhead shield, should the enemy attack from above. I want to keep your family safe, and allow you the freedom of more time to learn. You did not enjoy becoming a clan leader at seventeen, but you were very, very good at it.

Losing his golden core was ultimately part of how your brother died in my first lifetime. I saved him in the second, but I had not known about the core, so arrived to late too prevent that. This time, I hope to save all of you, and your families. Please take these wards to Lotus Pier and see them installed. I will contact you via this method, at your desk in your room in Lotus Pier, as soon as I have addressed the current concerns here. Let Wei Wuxian go, he has a journey to make, and it will ultimately benefit your family more than anything he could do there. 

These wards are in many ways his love letter to Lotus Pier. They are strong, and should keep you all safe. Your safety and happiness have always been his highest priority. It was your death, in this last lifetime of mine, that was part of what drove him to send me back this far. He could not go without a golden core.

Mo Xuanyu, who you called Xuanyu when you were feeling happy about me, and that brat when you were annoyed

Lan Qiren

Mo Xuanyu thinks for a moment, and then picks up the letter to Lan Qiren. He pauses, puts it down, scribbles a quick note to Lan Wangji that the next message is for Lan Qiren and Lan Qiren’s eyes only and that he will wait for confirmation of that before sending the next letter. He sends it and waits.

The next letter comes quickly and says, merely, “I am waiting, the rest have been sent to the garden—Lan Qiren.”

Lan-xiansheng,

It is strange to think that you do not know me now, for we shared many dinners in your home when I was sixteen. We would eat silently, and then after, we would discuss cultivation theory. 

Feel free to cut this part off if you share the rest of this with the group. When I was thirteen, five years in your future, you told me to tell you, and only you, this: “A-Huan was fathered by Lan Kaishen.” You regretted that it would be impossible for me to go back far enough in time to save your nephews’ mother. 

But what I can do is spare you the loss of many students, much of the Lan library, and years of misunderstanding.

By the time I was seventeen, you had a good working relationship with Wei Wuxian, who at that point had been married to Lan Wangji for six years. Their adopted son has already been born; he’s half a year old and made entirely of fat and smiles. He is already an orphan, but he still has an extended family, who are in as much danger as the Lan clan. I am with them now. He could be the next Lan heir—by the time he was twenty he was the top-ranked young master of his generation.

I believe that working together with Wen Qing and Wen Ning, all of the people I have asked to be assembled can prevent the coming war, and the disastrous peace that follows. But it means putting a lot of faith in your nephews and in me, and it means setting aside your preconceptions of Wei Wuxian as an unserious troublemaker. 

In fact, he is one of the best men I’ve ever known. His commitment to justice and filial loyalty goes above and beyond. He is a genius, and most of the designs coming to you and the others today are either his, or could not have been created without his work. Also, Lan Wangji has already betrothed him and bowed to Lan Yi in the Cold Pond Cave with his ribbon around their wrists. He will be the salvation of your clan, and a tremendous headache for years to come. But he will bring you a grandchild, and he will help save you and your clan, and your library. 

I know your home well enough to send further messages to you there, or in the Hanshi, when Lan Xichen leaves for the task only he can fulfill. 

I hope that when all of this settles, we can take tea together, and have more stimulating discussions about cultivation theory. In the meantime, I beg you to trust me. Your future self did. 

You also begged me to make sure that this time around we didn’t make you Xiandu. You told me Jin Guangshan is not fit for it, Nie Mingjue will not take it, and Lan Xichen would do it but Wangji has neither the inclination or the temperament to replace him as clan leader. You thought it would be both entertaining and effective to, as you put it, saddle Jiang Fengmian and his wife with the task. I will do my best. 

The wards should help. Please place them as indicated. Lan Wangji should leave very soon, and my hope is that you will supervise the ward placement.

Mo Xuanyu (You usually just called me Xuanyu, except when you were weary, and then you would say A-Yu with an enormous sigh.)

Popo finishes reading the letter to Wei Wuxian and looks up at Mo Xuanyu just as he is incinerating the letter to Lan Qiren. “Children…. You only mention A-Yuan?”

“He was the only child in the Burial Mounds,” Mo Xuanyu says, continuing to write. “Other than me, the second time.”

“No… no others?” she asks.

He puts the brush down. “No… I… others?”

She stands up, goes to the door of the cottage, and calls out, “A-Juan!”

Mo Xuanyu suddenly takes in the cottage, the wide bed, the little box of toys too old for a baby…

A little girl comes running in, four years old. “Popo, I’m here!” she says, her voice high and so young. He remembers A-Yuan this age, the only child of the entire village other than Mo Xuanyu himself.

“How many, in the village?” he asks.

“There’s our Wen Juan, here, who lives with me. And my fourth son has a girl, age twelve. A son your age. I have several adult grandchildren who’ve left, and there a handful of other children who call me Popo but who are farther in the family line. A-Juan, this is Yu-gege. He’s going to help us go find your Qing-jiejie.”

“And Ning-gege?” the little girl asks. 

“Mn,” says Popo with a decisive nod. 

“Yay!” she says, dancing around. 

Mo Xuanyu wonders why Wen Qing had never shown him this little girl. How tightly the Wen had wrapped their hopes in A-Yuan, letting go the lost children of the village.

Lan Wangji 2

Mo Xuanyu writes another letter. Halfway through, another message comes through, in Lan Wangji’s hand.

Shufu says to tell you that you have aged him a decade, but he will listen, and he hopes to meet you someday. He is fascinated by the wards, and by the idea of a grandchild. I find myself at a loss over the idea myself, as I had not thought to be a parent at all, but you say he is an orphan already—is he safe? Wei Ying keeps looking at me strangely. Are you certain? Will I be a good parent, a good husband? You know so much about a future I cannot imagine. Wen Qing says she awaits further information.

Lan Wangji

Mo Xuanyu switches to a blank sheet of paper, and writes.

Laoshi,

You and Xian-gege were so in love that there were stories written about it, though I believe Nie Huaisang was probably responsible for most of them. You were an excellent husband to him, he told everyone that, and you were a kind father to A-Yuan, and to me, a deeply beloved teacher. You told me once that the age you are now, it is difficult for you to tell when people are mocking you versus when they are respecting you. Xian-gege teases, but he has only ever had the most profound respect for you as a man and as a cultivator. You have been his favorite person since he met you, except possibly his sister, but all of us agree that Yanli-jie is the best ever, you included. She was your guzi, and deeply supportive of your marriage to her brother. 

A-Yuan is my first priority, we will be seeking refuge at Qinghe very soon, as it is the safest place for us to go right now, to take his family out of Wen Ruohan’s sphere of influence. They are the current major pressure point controlling Wen Qing. Their safety will likely guarantee her cooperation. The next message is for Xichen-ge.

I have just learned that A-Yuan has a sister. A-Juan is four, and a joy. There are other children in the village whose parents yet live. A-Yuan was the only child who survived the war last time. I find myself overwhelmed at the thought that we might save them all. A-Juan is a bubbling giggle full of questions, all smiles and little fluffy buns in her hair. She loves her family with her whole heart. I never knew that A-Yuan had a jiejie, not ever. How must it have hurt them to lose so many children? 

So it is possible you will come out of this with a daughter, as well. Oops?

Xuanyu

Lan Xichen

He sends it, writes for a bit, and then sends the next one.

Xichen-ge,

I called you Lan-zongzhu in my first lifetime, because my half-brother insisted, but on our first meeting after I started time traveling, you told me to call you Er-ge, but the sworn brotherhood that placed you in that position no longer made sense after a time, when my own half-brother, your sworn brother, betrayed us all. I began calling you Xichen-ge, and hope that I may continue. 

I know at this point, you have only known Meng Yao for a very short time. He and I are both bastard sons of Jin Guangshan, but his temperament is more set on ambition. I wanted to love him, but in every lifetime he has ended up murdering people I care about. 

As you probably know by now, I’m asking a lot of the Lan, the Jiang, and the Nie. Your task will be easier for the warning, and is not much different from what would have happened anyway. 

In my first lifetime, about four weeks after your brother left on a futile quest for the Yin iron, Wen Xu attacked Cloud Recesses, burning most of it, including the clan library. The inner disciples took shelter in the Cold Pond Cave, but the cave's defenses made it impossible to bring in the outer disciples. Lan Wangji returned from his journey just in time to allow most of the inner disciples to escape, and he joined you, but when he heard Su She tell Wen Xu that the secret to getting into the cave was the forehead ribbon, Lan Wangji volunteered himself as a hostage. The Yin iron was taken from him, his leg was broken, and he was dragged to Qishan for a set of indoctrination lectures that were really just an excuse to murder the clan heirs. 

The Wen did not succeed, due to the actions of Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, Jiang Wanyin, and Jin Zixuan, among others. You shouldn’t hate Su She for that betrayal, however. He was watching outer disciples be murdered left and right, and had a sword to his throat when he betrayed the Lan. 

No, you should hate Su She because he will become a toady of Meng Yao once Meng Yao becomes Jin Guangyao, and in that position will murder people and help leave the Jiang and Jin clans completely heirless and leaderless. I strongly recommend returning all outer disciples to their home clans immediately for their own safety. Those who choose to stay and help the Lan should be given what they need to stay safe. And if Su She betrays you again, kill him and save us all the trouble. 

I studied demonic cultivation under him at Jin Guangshan’s request in my first lifetime. Whether he had stolen or copied books from the forbidden section of the Lan library, or obtained the materials from Meng Yao, I’m not sure, but he used musical cultivation to malevolent effect. It was also grating to listen to. I did not continue his methods as soon as I had the option not to. 

When the Wen attacked your clan, Lan-xiansheng sent you with the most important texts of the Lan library to preserve them. Meng Yao took you in, and you were very fond of him because of it. He became a spy for you, and leveraged that into becoming a war hero, despite the fact that his information led Nie Mingjue into a trap. To this day I believe he was playing both sides against the middle.

I believe the best course of action is to encourage Meng Yao to leave for Qishan early, rather than to wait for him to murder a man, get kicked out of the Unclean Realm, and then save you before running off to become a spy. Better for him to leave early, and watch for betrayal later. 

You taught me a technique for mind connection, and if you meet us in Qinghe, I would be happy to let you see my memories of these things, if you feel it necessary. But I do not want to see him. He terrifies me.

I hope to see you in Qinghe in a week. I believe the wards will protect the library, but duplicate texts should probably be stored elsewhere if possible. 

Mo Xuanyu (You called me A-Yu or Xuanyu. As I am currently in an eight-year-old body, with a spirit that has lived about thirty years, take your pick. Yes, it is every bit as weird as it sounds.) 

Jin Zixuan 1

The next message goes to his brother.

Da-ge,

The first time we met, I was ten, and you were twenty, and on the verge of renewing your engagement to Jiang Yanli. You were bemused at the idea of having a younger brother, as the only other sibling you knew about was Meng Yao, then called Jin Guangyao, who is less than a day younger than you are. He is also, ultimately, the man responsible for your death and the death of your wife, twice over, and your son on another occasion. 

You told me that you did not want to be forced into an arranged marriage, that you were afraid of being like our father, and honestly, I wouldn’t want to be like him, either. But you did, eventually, marry Jiang Yanli for love, which is only natural as she is one of the best people who has ever lived. She is fond of you even now, in this life you are living, and you often told me that you would go back and slap yourself if you could for being so rude to her. If you do it in front of Wei Wuxian, though, he’ll just punch you instead, and none of us will fault him for it. 

That said, you’re definitely my favorite brother, and I would prefer that you not stick your foot in your mouth. Remember that Jiang Yanli will be the mother of your child, and that she will love you more sweetly than anyone else in this world ever could. The baby you two will make—he’s awfully cute, too. I enjoyed playing with my nephew so much. But we’re a few years away from that.

Now, we have a problem. Several problems. First, there is a war coming, and your father (technically mine as well) will be worse than a coward about it, pretending some support for those fighting Wen Ruohan (who is genuinely evil,) and simultaneously trying to make nice to Wen Ruohan so as to stay on the winning side, no matter what. When the war is won, he will try to take charge as Xiandu, and commit atrocities against civilians simply for having the surname Wen, whether or not they supported Wen Ruohan. He will acknowledge Meng Yao as Jin Guangyao, and then encourage him to make friends with demonic cultivators in order to increase his own power. 

Moreover, he will forget that he raped Qin Cangye’s wife, and support a marriage between his second son and Qin Su, who is our half-sister. She does not know this. Only her mother and her mother’s maid know this, and her mother will tell Jin Guangyao before the marriage, and Jin Guangyao will go through with it anyway and marry and bed our sister, and she will have a son, who he will later murder. He will also murder our father and probably your mother, but that will be long after he arranges for your murder and has Su She murder Jiang Yanli.

We have a chance to stop Jin Guangyao. I am at a loss for how to deal with your father, but he cannot be allowed to be Xiandu, and he cannot be allowed to have any part in the aftermath of the war. We have time to discuss this further.

Your tasks are ones you asked for. Be kind to Jiang Yanli, get to know her, eat her soup. That is not a euphemism, she is an extraordinary cook. Help the Cloud Recesses prepare for the coming invasion. We will attempt to stop it, but we may not succeed. 

If you are required to go to an indoctrination at Qishan Wen, do not, under any circumstances, bring your sword or your disciples' swords anywhere the Wen have access to them. Attached are instructions for a specific adaptation of Jin techniques to make a nearly invisible qiankun belt. Do not allow your father to know this technique exists. Luo Qingyang might be the best person to help facilitate their manufacture without making the technique widely known. 

If you make several of these belts, all cultivators should put their spiritual weapons within them before arriving at the indoctrination. They should carry swords they don’t mind losing. The belts, if made exactly as specified, can be worn under your clothing, leaving only a small tail between layers for access. Even a physical search will not normally uncover them, unless someone knows they are there. Have your disciples give their weapons to you. Give other belts to the clan heirs and let them handle their disciples. Store enough food for several weeks in the belts as well. You will not need to use your weapons until you are in the cave. 

I am attempting to stop the indoctrination, but it would be very wise to prepare anyway. If you do not use the belts for the indoctrination, you will probably use them for the war. 

It is vitally important that you not force the hand of your father or Jiang Yanli’s father to come and retrieve you directly from the Cloud Recesses. Let him know you will be returning a little late, that you are staying to spend some time with your fiancée. He will like that. 

I will either meet you in Qinghe or I will find you at Muxi mountain. I always enjoyed spending time with you. Of all the people I’m actually related to, you have always been the kindest.

Your didi, Mo Xuanyu

Wei Wuxian 2

The next message comes through a few moments after he sends the message to his brother. 

This one is in Wei Wuxian’s familiar hand.

Yu-gege

As you can probably guess, my first, second, and third reactions were disbelief. At first I accused Lan Zhan of an elaborate prank, but it’s really not his style, and the expression on his face… but I have read every missive that anyone will let me look at, and all of your wards and talismans, and I’ve read every talisman guide I could get my hands on and have never seen anything like them, except the gleam of the beginning of ideas in my own mind. I have not begun to wonder about time travel, but with the horrors you describe coming, I can imagine that it would become a priority. 

I keep going back and forth between the carrot and the stick. A husband who loves me like out of a story! A child Children of my own to love and care for! And then, the coming war, which is a very large stick, bigger than the planks they beat miscreants with here. I have not met this baby you describe so vividly, but I find I would die for him already. And a sister? Siblings are the best, and I’m delighted that we might help them keep each other. Ah, I feel your shock at the idea that so many children could be lost. Of course we want them. I echo Lan Zhan—are they safe? Please tell me we can see them soon. But yes, let us make the world safer for them, and for you. You are eight? But also thirty? It must be so very strange. 

You are correct that I would absolutely call you Yu-gege upon learning that, even if you were a toddler, though how a toddler would manage to hold the spiritual cognition of a grown man, I cannot imagine. Are you okay? I imagine your childhood must not have been kind, the first time, and I hope that in spite of your years we might somehow scratch a better one out of this world for you. I am too young to be a father of two, but I find I do not care. What did my son call me? Was I Baba? A-Die? I feel like I would ask a child to call me Diedie. Perhaps we shall confuse the world, and I will call you Yu-gege, and you can call me

Xian-die

Added in a more hasty hand, after:

—if this is too presumptuous, I will understand, and remain your Xian-gege. I always resisted distancing myself from my own father, but I know your relationship with Jin Guangshan must be quite different. The choice is yours.

The paper in front of Mo Xuanyu goes blurry, and he realizes there are tears running down his cheeks. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Popo, A-Yuan riding high on her back in a bundle. She shifts the paper aside and puts down a bowl of soup. A-Juan has already run back outside to play.

He has allowed Popo to read most of the letters when he’s finished with them. Soon she will go out and explain to the family members that they must pack, quickly, quietly, without drama. But for now, she wraps him up in a hug, and says, “So much depending on such a small boy. It’s okay to cry. We’ll help.”

“I always miss you, Popo,” he says. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Alright,” she says. “Eat your soup. Tell me what to write to your, hmmm, Xian-die.” 

He nods, blows on a bite, and then says, “First, tell him who you are, his son’s grandmother.” He takes the bite.

“Hm, then he will be my son, no? But he loved his parents, orphan that he is. He can call me Popo, too, everyone does.”

She begins.

Wei Wuxian,

This is the last time I am likely to use your courtesy name, as I am your children’s grandmother, and I’ve never called my children or grandchildren by courtesy names and I don’t intend to start now. You are of an age with my older grandchildren, so I will be Popo to all of you. A-Yuan and A-Juan are well. A-Qing set us up with a talisman to make better milk for the baby, and he thrives despite there being no wet nurse in the village. As long as we have a goat available for the next few months, and a place to wash, he will be fine. Babies are easy. And A-Juan is just old enough to be a little helpful, and wise enough to know when to be serious.

It gives my heart ease to know that they will be so loved. I will stay with them as long as I can, but that does not mean you cannot step in, if you desire. A-Yu is adamant that you and your young man were excellent parents to A-Yuan and filial indeed to his family, and I could not wish more for him than the potential future those ties could bring him. 

I know that A-Yu seems improbable, and it is best that he remain so, for the implications of time travel make my old head hurt. We will do our utmost to make this his last trip, as he vibrates with excess spiritual energy. I hope for Wen Qing to examine him as soon as possible, perhaps when we get to Qinghe. His body is healthy, but he has barely moved from this table, writing letter after letter. I am coaxing soup into him right now, which he has only agreed to do because I am writing in his stead. 

That said, Ruohan’s nonsense has been damaging this family for years. He is Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s paternal grandfather’s younger brother, but took them in after their parents died. We have not been in a position to stand against him, and our resources have been deliberately limited by him, but we will do everything we can. We are healers, not fighters. I would not have A-Yuan or A-Juan spoilt by his methods. They are already orphans because of him.

A-Yu has finished his soup, so I will allow him to complete this. Let me know your small names, and which those who care for you use.

Popo

Xian-die

While my spirit is older than I look, my body, my heart, and unfortunately my head are still eight. I have more experience, and a stupidly strong core, but the part of me that evens my emotions has lost much of the trained regulation I remember having. I know the techniques and can do them, but it takes a lot more work. Between letters I am charging teleportation talismans. I have fully charged six of them. I am not yet tired. This is terrifying.

A-Yuan is currently asleep and drooling on Popo’s neck. Picture the roundest, fattest dumpling of a baby, and stick a shock of black hair on top of his head like a bundle of river reeds, and then picture him asleep, pink-cheeked and glowing. If I was not buzzing with energy, just looking at him could put me to sleep. However fat you’re picturing his cheeks, make it fatter. No, that’s not fat enough. They’re like little round balls with his little mouth puckered up between them, like he’s dreaming of milk. I have never seen you be even remotely indifferent to him. I couldn’t imagine it. 

A-Juan ran out to play. She is at that age where children are most foolish and most wise, all at once, but the village has always been safe for her, so far. 

As for Lan Wangji, however much you feel about your son right now, he has felt more than that about you, for much longer. He has been alone for a very long time, and he described you as bringing light into his life. In his mind, you are already married, and have been since the moment you asked him to wrap the ribbon around your wrist. There will not be another for him. In other lifetimes, he was prepared to let you go, to not hold you to the thing he was holding himself to, because he has not been told in his life that he is lovable as a person. He has been held up as an example, loved as a brother and a duty and a valued clan member, but you and A-Yuan were the first people to love him for himself. 

He will learn to relax about rules. He is already realizing that there is a conflict between following a righteous path towards justice, and maintaining every rule at all times. All you need to do now is to be sincere, to express yourself plainly, and to accept that you are, in fact, someone who deserves love. When you lived together with A-Yuan and me and A-Yuan’s family, you were surrounded by love. We cleansed the Burial Mounds with it. 

I have another batch of letters to send, and instructions for your journey with Lan Wangji. Please encourage anyone with questions to send them my way.

Yu-gege
 

Jiang Yanli

Yanli-jie,

I cannot call you Saozi yet, but I will. My brother’s clumsy treatment of you has never been about who you are, only about his feelings about arranged marriages. The main ones he has seen are his parents' and your parents’ marriages, and they are not happy examples. But I have known of his love for you in two lifetimes, and I will tell you, as you asked me to in the future, to be patient as only you can be, because he is, in fact, willing to become a better man than his father would have made of him, for your sake. 

You bore the worst of both lifetimes, and I knew from the moment you died in the second one that I would be coming back, because the world is a better place with you in it, and none of the many people who adore you could stand the idea of a world without you. 

Your brothers and your future husband will always want to keep you safe, and I sympathize. You are planning to return to Lotus Pier soon, with Jiang Wanyin, and there is much work to be done there. Hopefully we will be able to make Jinlintai safer for everyone before you are to live there. 

Now, there are a number of tasks that can help in the coming months which require no great core-work. I will send a copy of the qiankun belt instructions for you, as you were fascinated by them in your other lifetime and told me if you’d been able to pack the food you sent with your brothers into them, it would have stayed fresh much longer and held them through the travails to come. I’m also sending a number of useful talismans, which I will entrust to you and the inner Lan alone. Please work with Lan Qiren to make a number of each of them, obscured as he taught me. If you can arrange to stay a few days longer at Cloud Recesses, I will help you teleport to Lotus Pier in time to arrive when your brother does with the disciples.

I will send a letter for Nie Huaisang next.

Mo Xuanyu, your A-Yu

Nie Huaisang

A-Sang

I know you’ve been sitting there, taking it all in, wondering why you were invited, wondering what your part in all of this could possibly be.

I have called you Nie-zongzhu, Huaisang, A-Sang, Sang-gege. In my heart you are always A-Sang, my zhiji, the one who has always understood me better than anyone. You asked me last time if we’d been lovers, when I was in my twenties and you were running Qinghe. 

You were very good at running Qinghe, but managed to pretend to be very bad at it, to deflect those who might ever consider your clan a threat. Losing your brother was the worst, but I have done as I promised. 

In my last life, we figured out how to prevent the vast majority of the damage of the Nie cultivation method, while strengthening your clan. I’m sending to you many things, first of which are wards which will both vastly improve the defensibility of the whole of Qinghe, and provide a sink for the resentful energy that builds up with the Nie saber cultivation method. 

There are secrets of the Nie that you do not yet know, but your brother will understand when I tell him the saber halls have been given better tasks, and should require no more sacrifices.

Regardless, we have not been lovers, but nevertheless, my heart’s home has always been with you. We have so many interests in common, books, painting… Also, I enjoy your taste in the clothing you choose for me, and the way you dress my hair, and paint my face. We were very close.

I watched you die too many times in my arms to not value your life beyond all others. You have been the best co-conspirator I could ask for. 

And I hope you will take that to heart, for I have an annoyingly difficult task for you. When we planned this together, you looked at it and said, “Ugh, I hate this, but you have to persuade me to do it anyway. It’s that important.”

I need you to persuade your brother, as quickly as possible, that he should accept a group of people as refugees. He agreed to this in my future, and you persuaded him to it then, too. 

The people I am sending to you are all Dafan Wen. They include the children who will become Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s son and daughter soon, and their grandmother and her village. If we can provide them, and Wen Ning, a safe haven in Qinghe, Wen Ruohan will lose his leverage against Wen Qing, and she will be able to take action she was unable to take in my last lives. She may either dramatically reduce or eliminate the war entirely, if her family is protected. 

Wen Ning is a sweetheart, and did not deserve what happened to him last time. Protect him, he is precious to everyone, a brave, true soul. The Dafan Wen are unlike anyone else I’ve met in the great clans, in that they place very little priority on status, and much upon taking care of each other. Also, Sishu makes a really astonishing fruit wine, and Popo will fill in all the empty corners of your heart. These Wen have no desire for conquest, and just want to live simple lives. They have already been hurt by Wen Ruohan—ask Wen Qing to tell you what he did to her parents, and to her brother. 

Wen Qing will not remember it, because it was a previous lifetime, but the part of the wards that help deal with the problem that causes so many qi deviations, those are something we could not have done without her extensive medical knowledge. And they will save many Nie cultivators. 

Now for the worst part, which I am writing on a separate sheet of paper so that you may share it without the first page.

Meng Yao is not under any circumstances to be trusted, forgiven, or relied upon, but unless someone is willing to kill him outright, he may be used. 

I know that he has been kind to you. He will keep that kind look on his face while he poisons your brother’s qi, if given a chance. He drove your brother into a qi deviation, then killed him, then turned him into a fierce corpse and then, when he could not control it, dismembered him. 

If you can find a way to send him as a spy into Qishan, he was very good at it. Not entirely trustworthy—under no circumstances should your brother attempt to assassinate Wen Ruohan based on Meng Yao’s maps—but otherwise quite adept. 

He is my brother. I worshipped him at first, respected him, cared for him, but when I learned of the worst things he’d done, he threw me down the stairs and discredited me in order to protect himself. He is literally capable of any atrocity you can think of. In my first lifetime, he killed his own little son, age four, and most people believed him when he blamed it on another clan, and then used it as justification to wipe that clan out to the last chicken. He married his sister, knowing she was his sister. He murdered our father, who, honestly, deserved it, but he did it by hiring prostitutes to work him to death, and then killed the prostitutes. I can forgive him for killing my father, but those women—no one deserves that. 

He helped our father invent a vendetta against Wei Wuxian and the Dafan Wen, not because they were any threat to him, but because he wanted a spiritual tool which Wei Wuxian had crafted. At his bidding, I learned demonic cultivation, much like Wen Ruohan practices now. Nothing Wei Wuxian will ever come up with can come close to the depravity that Jin Guangshan and Meng Yao were capable of together. They were nearly as bad as Wen Ruohan is trying to become. Worse, in some ways, because it is so calculated to manipulate. 

His first known crime in Qinghe came several weeks from now, when he murdered the captain of the guard, on the grounds that the man called him a son-of-a-whore and did not listen to instructions passed from your brother through Meng Yao. 

I have no great respect for a man who insults another’s parentage, but I do believe that responses should be proportional. You should discuss this with Lan Xichen, but you should make your own decision, as Xichen-ge has a very soft heart. I will come to Qinghe in disguise, as I do not wish to allow Meng Yao to find out I am also a son of our father. My hope is that he will be gone by the time I arrive, and he must not know of the Dafan Wen’s location. 

I will look for you there. I will look like a girl, and go by the name Wei Chanyu, as Xian-die has apparently adopted me. I don’t find that I mind. We are actually distant cousins, he and I. I will look a bit like him when I am older, but I’m prettier, and find it easy to pass as a woman, even easier now to pass as a girl. It is okay to share this name with the others. Mo Xuanyu is a name my father knows. Nevertheless, I remain,

A-Yu

Jin Zixuan 2

A letter arrives from Jin Zixuan.

Didi,

As much as I find myself resisting all of this, every bit of it, your words ring uncomfortably true in every way. I am assured by Lan Wangji that you are the impossible thing you say you are, a traveler from a future time, and I know my father too well to doubt any of it. 

Of course he’s capable of raping a woman, he doesn’t imagine that the world could ever deny him anything he wants. I hope your mother was not violated in that way. 

I know my mother would never let him touch her after me, and I have never faulted her for it, but the idea of having a brother is appealing to me, in the abstract. It sounds like the reality is quite complicated. 

Jiang Yanli and I have exchanged your letters so that we may read each other’s. It is clear that you care for her very much, and as annoying as my mother will be, I will take your advice and give her a chance. You are correct. Thus far, I have not. 

Unfortunately, learning that my father is definitely a rapist makes me even more reluctant to subject anyone worthy to a home that is entirely under his control. I don’t suppose you have a handy talisman for that? 

I note that other clans have been given powerful wards. I take it from your other words that Lanling was never attacked. And it is clear from your instructions for the bags that you have spent enough time in Lanling to learn clan secrets and improve upon them. 

The hidden qiankun belt is genius. Qiankun pouches’ greatest weakness has always been how easy they are to steal. You’ve made one people will not notice. I want one for everyone I care about, immediately. It looks like it does not even require any great core work, which has been a limiting factor on how many bags Lanling could produce. I can see hiding my sword and weeks’ worth of food in there, and feeling secure even in the darkest of places. 

I want you to know that I could have gone an entire lifetime without seeing Wei Wuxian confessing his deep affection for Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji actually had an expression about it! He looked extremely silly, but I shouldn’t judge. I expect, if you are correct, that I will soon look equally foolish. I know I am a proud man, but I’m not sure the point of being proud when the thing I’ve been proudest of is so rotten at the core. 

Wei Wuxian will not shut up about fat babies and how he is too young to be a father to two children. 

Nie Huaisang said that you will be taking the Wei family name while in hiding, and truly, I cannot fault you for stepping away from all of it. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to protect your mother in the coming chaos. I know you must have had to leave her in order to do this, and I would like to make her safe if I can. But Wei Wuxian? Really? He’s always seemed rather hotheaded to me. But we have not been at our best with each other. 

Mianmian (Luo Qingyang) is going to take the designs for production immediately, she is not even waiting for the lantern ceremony in two days. She told me to light a lantern with Jiang-guniang, and I think I will. My cousins have always called her quite plain, but I have seen her laughing and taking care of her brothers on this emotional evening, and when she smiles wide at people she cares about, her whole face lights up. I would like to see more of that. 

Lan Qiren has been here all evening and has not scolded anyone even a single time. He goes through every missive you send which the recipients are willing to share, though I note that he did not share his message with us, and in fact, cut away part of it and burned it before anyone could get a look at it. 

I find myself uncurious, knowing the depths of depravity mentioned in my own. I… hesitated to share them, myself, but then realized that the reason he gets away with such things is that no one talks about them. I will do my best to protect my sister from the fate you describe. I do not believe any of the people here would be here if you did not trust their discretion. We must all be working together. Perhaps if we can present a unified front, we can stop the factional nonsense that has been creating so much difficulty for so long. 

Please allow me some brotherly concern, and suggest that you sleep tonight as soon as you can. No need to respond to this before you rest. Lan Qiren will pass on any further messages until I return to Lanling. 

Da-ge

Lan Wangji 3

While reading his brother’s letter, Mo Xuanyu pauses to send his next missive to Lan Wangji.

Laoshi,

I promised instructions, and I will preface them by saying that they are instructions you yourself directed me to memorize, so that I could write them to you in this time. We drilled them for years, so that I would not forget a word. I know them better than the Lan Rules, and you made me memorize those, too, so that I might understand why they are there before I chose whether or not to follow them.

You told me that you might have a hard time with breaking rules, and that some rules would need to be broken. Some should not—for example, you should never, ever drink, to preserve your dignity, no matter how much your husband teases about it. After experiencing you drunk on two occasions, your husband concurred, and you can tell him so. You have a knack for increasing the chicken flock when under the influence, and you tend to find it very embarrassing the next day, as the birds tend to need to be returned to their rightful owners and catching chickens is undignified. The rule about alcohol is there for a reason, to preserve your dignity and prevent harm to innocent bystanders (and chickens.)

But rules about bedtime are guidelines, there to give you structure and help you have a strong, healthy body. Violation of these rules brings natural consequences, and need not garner more punishment. 

You told me that the Lan clan assumes all cultivation work with resentful energy is evil, but that in your observation, Xian-die’s fourth method, though not as he described it in his initial conflict with Lan-xiansheng, is, in fact, a viable and even preferable path toward the ultimate goal of liberation of souls, allowing more to be preserved rather than eliminated, through the calming effect of productive work. 

And then, of course, there’s the fact that without someone able to counter the cultivation of Wen Ruohan, the cultivation world will be lost, more and more people turned into puppets for his irrational quest for power. 

You have several tasks ahead of you. You need to travel with Wei Wuxian, and you will need to leave in the morning. You should not wear your usual clothes. I suggest that you go in black or brown. Xian-die should be in blue, perhaps, but not black, not white, and he should hide his hair ribbon and use something less obvious. You can keep your ribbons on your wrists. You should not wear yours on your forehead. Whether or not you take the Yin iron with you, you need to better insulate it. Create a talisman from this diagram, and affix it to the qiankun pouch. It should isolate the Yin iron completely, cutting it off from the other pieces so that you cannot be tracked with it, and making it impossible to detect for anyone else. 

Leaving it in the Cold Pond Cave, better insulated, is probably the best practice. It will disappear from Wen Ruohan’s senses, and he will not know why. You don’t need it to track the other pieces, anyway. 

Both of you need to wear this talisman. I’ve keyed it so that two people wearing the same talisman will not lose track of each other. I call it a don’t-look-here. Please do not share it with anyone but the two of you. 

Your first stop will be at the Damsel of Annual Blossoms, but you need to go quickly and use this talisman to make resentful energy visible. The Yin iron should show up like a dark beacon. Immediately isolate it in a qiankun pouch and add the blocking talisman, and store it in your clothing, not on your belt. When you get to me, I will have a special qiankun belt for you to hide it in.

Your second stop will be Mo Village, where you will let my mother know that I am safe, with healers, that they are treating the remainder of the illness I had before I left. 

Let her know that she needs to stay in Mo Village, but that I will send for her when it is safe. If you can give her money, the family will be kinder to her. There is no place safer for her right now, which isn’t saying much. If she doesn’t calm down, I’ll have Jin Zixuan come talk to her. She’ll listen to a Jin.

Then come to the village at the foot of Dafan mountain, north of Mo Village. Once you reach me here, the Dafan Wen will start their journey to Qinghe. They will be going incognito, wearing similar don’t-look-here talismans. 

We will head further west, to Yueyang Chang, in hopes of intercepting the third piece. I must be with you, as the third piece will be being actively used, and I know how to counter it. We must kill Xue Yang. We cannot take him for trial, we cannot show mercy, it doesn’t matter that he’s probably fourteen right now, he is not salvageable. You speculated once that he may have been exposed to a piece of Yin iron since birth. If we get there quickly enough, we may be able to save the Yueyang Chang clan. 

We will rejoin the Dafan Wen, and travel with them to Qinghe, as discreetly as possible.

Once established there, we will reassess based on whether or not Wen Qing has been able to fulfill her mission, where Lan Xichen is, and whether Meng Yao is still there. 

The last things I will send tonight include the following improved talisman designs. I recommend that each of you take several of each design. They are not for general consumption.

Silence: Works anywhere, creates a temporary, complete disjunction between the place the talisman is used and the space outside the effective area. Your intention will define the area, be specific. Outdoors, a sphere that encloses you and the people you are speaking with but no further will be most effective. Indoors, the walls of the room you are in. Be wary of closets and hidden spaces, as it is better to be in a smaller, well-defined space than to create a sphere which includes spaces you can’t see. Stays active as long as you will it, will inactivate if you leave it too long—the air will go stale and you will pass out and the talisman will fail. This is a safety feature and should not be circumvented. If you hear wind, it is no longer working.

Don’t-look-here: This works to keep casual observers from noticing your presence. It is not effective versus active searchers. So if someone is actively looking for you and at you, the talisman will not hide your presence, but it will prevent people from tracking your movements through rumor. Best to keep it active whenever you are on the move, unless you wish to be traced. Can be activated and deactivated and reused. Can draw any sort of energy, but only uses very little. It is related to a forgetting curse, but is extremely transient and leaves no marks. They last for a very long time.

Here is the method for a small, mostly harmless forgetting curse… I strongly advise only using it in extremis, for example, if someone looking for you finds you. It can make them forget you exist. This can be extremely funny, but also awkward as hell. Undoing the curse is very simple… 

Xian-die, I know you have a body control talisman. For shame. Nevertheless, in a pinch, it can be used with a forgetting curse to persuade someone to help you for a long time and then forget that they’ve done it. Ethically speaking, I cannot recommend it; however, I did use it to escape my brother, back in the day, by telling the man who was supposed to take me to confinement to take me somewhere else and forget about me after he threatened to tell my brother where I was running to. I don’t think much of someone who would take an unconscious man somewhere no questions asked, but I could have walked him to death. It is such a simple talisman, but frightening in its potential uses. This way lies Wen Ruohan. You will have to decide for yourself whether the moral stain is worth using it in your own journey. 

(It was amusing to speak to him when he had the forgetting curse on him. He was always startled to see me, and would then promptly forget, and would be startled again a moment later. I freed him from the compulsion as soon as I was far enough away that it would take him a significant amount of time to get back. He never did go back to my brother because he forgot he was supposed to.) 

The forgetting curse probably wouldn’t work on someone who was even moderately competent at recognizing curses, I don’t think, but it’s very, very small as long as you pick something they’re not likely to encounter again, like you.

Lastly, this is an improved teleportation talisman… and here is the accompanying array… Place an array outside your wards, as the Cloud Recesses improved wards are designed specifically to block teleportation, in or out. Have Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang do the same. The array should be obscured and out of the way, but close enough to the gate to allow rapid access to the main ward. The teleportation array allows the talisman to use much less energy. When we are settled, I will give schematics for a variety of devices which can make things much easier.

When you write these talismans out, use the obscured technique Lan-xiansheng knows. You do not want one to be dropped and adapted for other uses.

The teleportation talismans can be charged in advance, with small amounts of energy throughout the day, to prevent depletion. It is refreshing in unpleasant situations to be able to leave, promptly. Key the teleportation talisman to the specific array. I suggest the following symbols…

In a pinch, you can slip the teleportation talismans into the Yin iron pouch, if you have one with you. They can siphon off some of the resentful energy, but will leave a significant amount of it if you actually use the talisman.

See you soon.

Oh, there’s one more message for Qing-jie.

Xuanyu

Wen Qing 2

A note from Wen Qing comes shortly, just as he’s about to put a talisman down on a note to her.

A-Yu,

If you save my family, I will do what is needed. You are correct that I have resisted taking action out of fear for them, but until now, there has been no other way. I find myself wondering how far I can go to protect my family, and I’m not sure there’s a limit. But if Xiandu will not bother to protect them, he does not deserve my loyalty. You are right that he caused my parents’ deaths. I haven’t allowed myself to even think that in many years. 

Please let me know what I suggested. I have some ideas, but it would be nice to have some inkling of what my future self was thinking.

On your word, they trust me here. My brother desperately wants to help stop Wen Ruohan. 

Qing-jie

Mo Xuanyu adds to the letter he was going to send, and then slaps the talisman on it, yawns, and realizes the buzzing under his skin has calmed. 

Popo looks up and says, “I put a pallet next to my bed. You should sleep there.”

He nods, and tucks the letters all away. In the morning he will make belts. 

Qing-jie,

Wen Chao will come to get you soon, and will want to follow Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. I have taken steps to make that difficult, which should, theoretically, send him to Tanzhou to find a piece of Yin iron. 

At the first opportunity, it would be ideal if you can eliminate the entire party, leave some sign to imply that you have also been eliminated, and then use this talisman to obscure yourself. Meet your family on the path between Dafan and Qinghe. We will be moving slower, but you should be able to see us from the air if you are wearing your don’t-look-here. 

Wen Xu will be headed for Cloud Recesses in four weeks. I do not know how the disappearance of his brother and Wen Zhuliu will play into his timetable. I will give you teleportation talismans as soon as I see you. You suggested paralysis and incineration. If Wen Chao obtains the Yin iron before Lan Wangji, be prepared to isolate it with a qiankun pouch and this talisman…

You thought to kill Wen Ruohan in his sleep. I believe if we use the teleportation talismans, you will be able to act fast enough to pull it off. I can write a talisman to put you in front of his throne, but you’ll have to work incredibly quickly after that. Do not touch the Yin iron when you isolate it. Teleport out. 

Please wear a don’t-look-here whenever you are not wanting to be observed. If you can kill Meng Yao, even better, but it must be secret—if possible, he should vanish without a trace. Best case would be that Wen Ruohan dies, Meng Yao shows up, and he dies in Qishan. I do not know if the timing will work. 

I know this is not what you wanted to be doing, but there is no one else I know with the decisive nerve you have, nor the trust of Wen Ruohan. If you succeed, we will be years closer to safety.

You know what he’s capable of. It only gets worse from here. You showed me what it was like when he had three pieces of Yin iron. When I see you, I can show you what you showed me. 

A-Yu

Getting the band back together

He sleeps that night the sleep of the exhausted child, and though there is still a surplus of energy simmering under his skin, it doesn’t bother him enough to keep him awake.

In the morning, he asks Popo if there is silk or lotus silk available, and she gives him a long look before pulling out her old wedding garments, packed away many decades before. 

“I would lose this soon, anyway, and if it can help…”

He strokes the silk respectfully, and then nods. “Would you help me?”

He holds little A-Yuan while she cuts the fabric into pieces, amusing the boy with glowing butterflies dancing on his fingers. A-Juan touches them, and they burst into sparks, and she giggles.

When Popo stands up straight and stretches, he says, “May I give you spiritual energy to help your pain? Qing-jie taught me how to do it for non-cultivators.”

She nods, and he puts a hand on her shoulder, letting the energy trickle through her skin and along the dormant meridians. 

Her eyes widen. “Oh, I’d forgotten—it’s been some time since my granddaughter was here.”

She continues cutting the pieces he’s requested while he settles A-Yuan, sleepy, on his shoulder, and goes to find Wen Heng, who can help with the amulet blanks.

It isn’t long before Popo’s house has half a dozen people in it, putting together belts and bags and making the backs for the hidden talismans he will write. Blank talismans are covered with black glue and other blanks pasted on top, so he can write the talismans on them when they are dry and then put the covers on all at once. 

They have enough qiankun bags for the Wens to pack by lunchtime, which one of the neighbors brings. Every time a don’t-look-here is complete, someone puts one on, and by early afternoon the village outside is a hive of activity, but only obvious to the people wearing talismans. 

Someone finds Mo Xuanyu a girl’s gown, outgrown by one or another of them, set aside for A-Juan, and he braids his hair up into a feminine Nie style he’d learned so many years ago from Nie Huaisang. Another villager brings out every dizi in the village, and he finds one with finger holes small enough for his fingers to cover them. It pipes higher than his normal dizi, but it is intent, not intonation that matters here. 

Popo considers the overall effect, and says, “Show me your walk.”

He takes small, smooth steps, and she nods. “Is there a fan I can borrow?” he asks.

She goes to a chest that has not yet been packed, and brings out a faded but beautifully painted fan. “This one is the right size for you,” she says. Then she pulls out an ivory sash, and a faded red tassel, and wraps the sash around his waist. “So you have someplace to put it,” she murmurs.

“Whose… whose were they?” he asks. 

“’My eldest daughter's,” she says. “Wen Qing’s mother.”

They continue working through the afternoon, moving from the don’t-look-here talismans to teleportation talismans. 

A letter appears toward evening, in Wei Wuxian’s familiar, hasty hand.

Tanzhou successful. Coming quickly. Don’t-look-here is the best, did I invent it? We passed Wen soldiers moving toward Gusu, they didn’t even notice. To retrieve Wen Qing? Will overnight at Lotus Pier, see you in the morning.

By the time Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are seen in the air in the distance mid-morning, the Dafan Wen are completely packed, waiting in their houses for the all clear. 

Three people in the village have been pointed out as Wen Ruohan’s spies, sent to lend weight to the threat that keeps Wen Qing in line. For them, Mo Xuanyu crafts a careful, tiny forgetting curse, and tells them, “Forget to tell anyone that anything is strange here.”

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji land, and Popo carries A-Yuan in her arms, with Mo Xuanyu walking next to her with A-Juan’s hand in his, to meet them.

It takes a moment for their eyes to land on the four of them, and the villagers are peeking out of their doors, watching.

The two cultivators stop, still, when they see them, and Wei Wuxian grabs Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Is that…” he breathes.

“Wei Chanyu, A-Yuan, A-Juan, and Popo,” Lan Wangji says. “I am surprised you did not adequately convey exactly how fat his cheeks are, or how cute her smile.”

“I have been negligent, Laoshi,” Mo Xuanyu says, bowing. “I struggled to find sufficient poetry on the subject.”

A-Juan giggles, and hides behind Mo Xuanyu, peeking out and then giggling and hiding again when Wei Wuxian makes a silly face at her.

A-Yuan regards them with remarkable aplomb as Popo turns him so that they may better appreciate him.

“Lan Zhan, oh…” Wei Wuxian closes his mouth and then makes a little squeaking noise. “He’s… oh…”

“Come, hold him,” Popo says. “My old arms are getting tired. And you haven’t yet told me what I should call you.”

“My sister calls me A-Xian, or Xianxian when she’s cosseting me,” Wei Wuxian says, stepping forward hesitantly. “Jiang-shushu calls me A-Ying.”

Popo smiles. “Ying-er it is.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t have time to get indignant about the diminutive, because A-Yuan is reaching for him.

Surprised, Wei Wuxian takes the boy, and then looks up at Popo, looks down at the actual baby in his arms, and gives a sheepish, sighing smile. “All right, Popo.” 

“That’s my didi!” A-Juan says, running over to Wei Wuxian. 

“He is!” Wei Wuxian says. “You must be the great big jiejie! I have a jiejie, you know. Little brothers love their jiejies the best!”

“He’s kind of boring, though,” A-Juan says in a faux whisper. “He’s just little now.”

“Ah, he’ll be running around in no time,” Wei Wuxian says.

Popo smiles at them and turns to Lan Wangji, who is staring, stunned, at Wei Wuxian and the children. “And you? I understand you’re also family, in several ways. What did your mother call you?”

Lan Wangji breathes in sharply, though his eyes are utterly fixed on Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan, and says softly, “A-Zhan. She called me A-Zhan. Wei Ying calls me Lan Zhan, and the rest of my family Wangji.”

“May I call you A-Zhan?” she asks.

He gives her a tiny, hesitating nod, and she reaches up and pats him on the cheek. “Such a good boy for your Popo.”

Lan Wangji's ears turn pink, then he gathers himself, turns back to look at Mo Xuanyu, and says, “A-Yu, if you are going to call my husband Xian-die, you should not call me Laoshi. A-Yuan will call me Baba, A-Juan too, if she chooses. We told your mother this morning that we would be taking responsibility for you. I would not mind being your baba as well, if you will accept it.”

Mo Xuanyu nods, unable to speak. 

“I don’t have enough arms,” Wei Wuxian says plaintively. “Lan Zhan, take the baby for a moment, I must meet this brave child of mine properly.”

Lan Wangji moves very quickly to take A-Yuan, who stares up at Lan Wangji but accepts the transfer, and Wei Wuxian is momentarily dumbstruck by the two of them regarding each other with equally serious expressions.

A-Juan tugs his sleeve and says, “That gege is very pretty.”

“He is, isn’t he,” Wei Wuxian says to her. “I think he’s so pretty, I married him!”

“He’s going to be A-Yuan’s baba?” she asks.

“Yours too, if you want,” Wei Wuxian says. “I know you might remember your fuqin…”

“A-Ba died, and A-Ma died, and they’re gone now,” she says. “I have a popo and a sishu and Qing-jiejie and Ning-gege and and…” she stops. “A-Yuan will call you Diedie? And he’s Baba? For both of us? And I get a Yu-gege-jiejie?”

“I would be honored to be your Diedie,” Wei Wuxian says, very seriously. 

She considers this for a long moment, and then nods, and runs forward to Lan Wangji, grabs him around the thigh, looks up at him and says, “Hi, Baba. I’m your A-Juan.”

Wei Wuxian makes a high squeaking sound. Lan Wangji looks down at her, astonished, and then his whole face softens and he crouches down, still holding A-Yuan with one arm, and says to Wei Wuxian, “You were going to greet our eldest.”

Mo Xuanyu laughs at Wei Wuxian. “As if you could ever take your eyes off him when he’s holding children.”

Wei Wuxian turns, and wags his finger at Mo Xuanyu. “Ah, such an unfilial child, though I birthed you with my own body.”

“You were my age when I was born, and you’ve only just met me,” Mo Xuanyu says dryly. 

Wei Wuxian waves a hand dismissively. “Nevertheless. Now, let me look at you.” He puts his hands on Mo Xuanyu’s shoulders, then pats him on the head, and stands back, arms folded. 

“Now, I had thought I had two sons and a daughter, but I am looking at a son and two daughters. Is this permanent?”

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head and laughs. “I’ll grow up to be a cutsleeve, and I love pretty things, but being a girl is a useful way to avoid notice, and the braids will help us where we’re going. I find no one pays attention to girls, even if they notice them.”

Lan Wangji looks over and says, “They look like the braids for a daughter of the main Nie clan, but really more suited to someone about twice your age.”

“I was in my twenties when Nie Huaisang taught me. There was a dearth of small children at Qinghe Nie by the time I was there. In fact, there were few children in any of the major clans, except the Jin, because of the war. So I never saw them on a younger girl.”

“We will be leaving soon,” Popo says. “I will take the children, so that you may continue on the very necessary task ahead of you.”

Wei Wuxian makes a sad noise of acquiescence. 

“We will complete our errands promptly, so that we may reunite soon,” Lan Wangji says. “A-Yu was correct that we would happily take responsibility for A-Yuan, for A-Juan, and for your family.”

Popo looks them over, and then gets a startled remembering look on her face, pulls out one of the qiankun bags and hands it to Mo Xuanyu, saying, “A-Yu, do that trick and think about the yudi jian.” 

“Small sword?” Mo Xuanyu says, puzzled, and then nearly drops the pouch when a grip pokes out of it. 

It is closer to a glorified dagger, less than half the length of Mo Xuanyu’s adult sword, but the working of the hilt and scabbard are exquisite, a black scabbard with gold and jasper fittings, and a Wen sun in gold on the hilt, with a burnished red grip and a polished gold cap at the end. 

“Popo, this must be from one of your family…”

“It will help my family survive. It was a gift from Wen Ruohan’s father to my daughter’s husband, Wen Qing’s father, when he was first developing his core. It remains a fine weapon, and I have no need for it at all. See if it will open for you.”

Mo Xuanyu grasps the grip and slides the sword from the scabbard, and blinks as he feels it blend with his spiritual energy. “How old was he when he received this?” 

“He was eight,” Popo says. “He was always quite strong. It would have gone to A-Ning, but he couldn’t…”

“Popo, this is a spiritual weapon. Who makes spiritual weapons for eight-year-olds?”

“Qishan Wen,” Sishu says. “It’s pretty normal for the main line.”

“I had my first spiritual weapon at ten,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“I had mine at ten as well,” Lan Wangji says, “but I think this will be a valuable tool for you, and I am happy to see that you will have some form of defense that is not talismans.”

“To be fair, his talisman skills are amazing,” Wei Wuxian says, chucking A-Yuan’s cheek. “I want a turn before we go.”

Lan Wangji sighs and transfers the baby back, and then reaches down to pick A-Juan up. Wei Wuxian promptly starts nibbling at the child’s cheeks. A-Yuan giggles and grabs his hair.

“Oh no,” Wei Wuxian says softly. “Oh, he laughs. How can I possibly…”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “There’s a murderer we have to stop, who will one day help kill your sister if we don’t take care of him now.”

“Right. Popo?” Wei Wuxian says, disentangling tiny fingers from his hair and then gently handing A-Yuan back to her.

Lan Wangji is gobsmacked when A-Juan gives him a peck on the cheek and says, “Bye, Baba.” 

Wei Wuxian says, “Be safe on your journey. We will find you on the road as soon as we can.” He drops a kiss on A-Yuan’s cheek, ruffles A-Juan’s hair, and then shakes his head. “Ah, my wayward youth has come to an abrupt end, and I find I do not mind a bit. Will that thing carry you?” he asks Mo Xuanyu. 

“Let’s find out. If it won’t, I’m sure one of you will,” Mo Xuanyu says, stepping onto the sword. It rises smoothly in the air, nearly as responsive as Changyuan had been.

“I wasn’t flying reliably until I was eleven,” Wei Wuxian says. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I have been flying for years,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You two taught me.”

“How very clever of us,” Wei Wuxian says, and steps onto his sword.

Xue Yang

The little sword is smaller relative to his feet than Mo Xuanyu is used to, even with a child’s feet, but his spiritual energy hums through his body and the sword and he knows that it would take an act of his own will for him to fall.

It feels good to let the power flow. “Are either of you tired?” he calls out, and then amends with, “And would you admit it if you were?”

“Why do you ask?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Because I’m still overflowing and have energy to spare,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I can give you each a boost if you want.”

“Showoff,” Wei Wuxian says, but he drifts closer and extends an arm. 

“Foolish to do this midair,” Lan Wangji says.

“Watch me,” Mo Xuanyu says, taking Wei Wuxian’s wrist and letting a thin thread of power flow through it. His sword feels even more stable. 

“Wow,” Wei Wuxian says. “How?”

“Time travel,” Mo Xuanyu mutters. “And it’s not worth it. I was fine before. This is too much. I’m just a scholar.”

“I find it hard to believe you’re just anything,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“The entire time I’ve known you, you were constantly saying, ‘I’m just a potato farmer, I’m just a servant’s son, I’m just a humble radish farmer,’ having demonstrated so much power that actual clan leaders pissed themselves in fear because they could not imagine having that power and not wanting to use it.”

Lan Wangji, a short distance away, snorts, and they both stare at him.

“Did he just…” Wei Wuxian says to Mo Xuanyu.

“He has a sense of humor,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It’s just very dry. Bone dry. Dryer than that.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian calls out. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Lan Wangji turns his body carefully while not affecting the movement of his sword’s progress in the slightest, and simply raises one eyebrow. 

Wei Wuxian wags a finger at him, and Lan Wangji allows one corner of his mouth to drift upwards very slightly. 

“You!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, and then buries his face in his hands. 

“So, you two are getting married soon, then?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Lan Wangji says, “Shufu read your missives and immediately insisted upon a tea ceremony.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, “He was muttering the whole time about how ridiculous it is for two men to have a rapid wedding-of-necessity due to unexpected children.”

Lan Wangji continues, “So then we stopped at Lotus Pier to bow for the Jiangs. We are thus technically already fully married, though Jiang-zongzhu did ask that we wait for a time… we will have a more formal ceremony, later.”

“Yu-furen was thrilled to make me Lan Zhan’s problem,” Wei Wuxian says. “And Jiang-shushu kept asking if I was sure, if I was willing, telling me he could rescue me if I needed, that no one would marry me against my will. I just told him, ‘Look at him! Who wouldn’t want to marry the Second Jade of Lan?’”

At that, Lan Wangji looks away.

“It was for their benefit, Lan Zhan. You know the one I want to be married to is my Lan Zhan, not your title or position.”

“It’s weird seeing you flying your own sword,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“That’s right, there was something about me losing my core? I can’t imagine,” Wei Wuxian says.

“Imagine if your brother’s core had been crushed, and he was lying in a bed, unwilling to eat, waiting to die, and you found out that there was a method for you to give him your core,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Oh. Yeah, that would do it,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“Wen Qing was the one who did the transfer, at your request. She’s currently on a mission to make sure it can never happen.”

“She was so… she was quiet and separate the whole time, and she read your letter, and then immediately said, ‘Wen Ruohan sent me here to search out the piece of Yin iron hidden here. Under no circumstances should he be allowed to have it. If you will help protect my family and my brother, I will pledge myself to the cause of preventing the coming war. I would not normally be willing to take a life, but it has been pointed out to me that I can save tens of thousands of lives by acting, now.’”

Mo Xuanyu takes a sharp breath. “She doesn’t expect to survive this.” Then he sighs. “But she never did. She was a spirit the first time I met her.”

“Did you know Inquiry?” Lan Wangji asks.

“No, there’s a technique, Empathy…”

“Empathy is dangerous,” Lan Wangji says flatly. “The risk of possession—“

“Yes, of course, you always say that, but I always started with musical cultivation, with the dizi, to express my desire to help, first. Where resentment is high, it’s more dangerous, but with her, with Jiang Yanli, there was no real danger. They did not want to possess a teenager who reminded them of their brother.” He looks at Wei Wuxian and says, “And Qing-jie has always looked at you as another little brother, though she fought it at first.”

“So you used Empathy,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I did, and Qing-jie did a thing… I could see spirits very easily. I haven’t tried since I arrived. Anyway, anyone I’ve done Empathy with, I can talk to, and that’s how I got to know the Wens. About a quarter of that village survived the war and the work camps, and I performed Empathy with all of them. I know them.”

“We should land,” Lan Wangji says, pointing at a clearing below. “You should take some time to get used to your sword before we go in.”

“For a little bit,” Mo Xuanyu says. “If you’re tired, I can still help.”

Wei Wuxian reaches over and snags his wrist without so much as a by-your-leave, and he feels the exploratory spark of energy. “Wo de tian a, Lan Zhan, it’s so strong.”

“Stronger than your own?” Lan Wangji asks.

“You feel,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Wangji shifts closer with a thought, and holds out his hand. “May I?”

“So polite,” Mo Xuanyu says, and puts his wrist in Lan Wangji’s grasp. 

Lan Wangji winces. “When did you use the teleportation talisman?” 

“A bit over a day ago,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’ve filled a number of others, besides.”

“You should keep feeding us power, slow and controlled, while we fly,” Lan Wangji says. “If you start to have flashes of anger or a strong fever, I may need to lock your spiritual energy until we can have an expert healer look at you.”

“My first stop is usually Qing-jie when I travel in time,” Mo Xuanyu says. “The time was just tight this time. I was unconscious a day longer than expected.”

“You shouldn’t do this again,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I might have to, if we can’t get this right,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I haven’t gotten it right, yet, and going back younger… This was the oldest I could go and still make a major difference to everyone’s goals. You both agreed that it would be better after the Cold Pond Cave.”

They land, and Mo Xuanyu runs through the Jiang sword forms, the Lan forms, the Jin forms, and a modified version of the Nie forms. The sword moves through them all with only a minimum of resistance, and he sends it a mental apology of I never learned the Wen forms. 

“You still need to develop your muscle memory, but the knowledge is there,” Lan Wangji says. “There are disciples my age who could not do as well.”

“You were pleased with my progress,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I am afraid that the sword is more of an intellectual exercise for me. I have not used one in battle, nor have I wished to.”

“Still, it is a good skill to have,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“You coached me through flying,” Mo Xuanyu says, “but your brother taught me most of the Jiang forms.”

Mo Xuanyu feeds each of them some more energy, and they take to the air again.

Yueyang is bigger and more energetic than Mo Xuanyu remembers it being from the last time he was there, on one of the familiarization journeys they’d taken to practice the routes he’d need to know.

He leads them to the Yueyang Chang clan, which is already in chaos.

Mo Xuanyu consciously shifts his vision, understands what Wen Qing’s spirit did to make him see more clearly, long ago in Nightless City, then lifts up just enough to reach Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s foreheads before flicking them with the tiny bit of energy that will shift their vision, too, for greater clarity.

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian says, ducking a spirit heading for him. 

“Qin,” Mo Xuanyu tells Lan Wangji. “Your strongest spirit calming song.”

He looks up as the music starts, finds the mass of dark energy on the roof, pulls open a qiankun bag hanging at his waist, then brings his hands back up to play a quick, violent summoning command on the dizi.

A piece of Yin iron thumps into the bottom of the bag and in one motion, he reaches down, closes the bag, activates the talisman already on it, and disappears the whole business into his belt. 

There is a shriek from above—“That’s MINE!”—and a blur as Xue Yang slams into Mo Xuanyu from the roof. 

The dizi falls out of Mo Xuanyu’s hands as he hits the ground, and he feels himself start to fade—oh, there are hands around his throat. 

He slams a raw burst of spiritual power through Xue Yang as hard as he can, and the hands disappear in a blaze of pain when Xue Yang is flung backwards, where Wei Wuxian promptly decapitates him. 

Everything stops. 

Wei Wuxian drops Suibian, turns around, and throws up.

“A-Yu?” Lan Wangji says, and he sounds worried? Why is he worried? “A-Yu! Wei Ying!”

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes.

The last thing he hears is, “He’s bleeding, quick!”

Flashes

—light as his eyes drift open.

—being carried, a hand on his throat. He doesn’t like that, and bats at the hand.

“No, baobei. We have to keep it there.”

—Xian-gege. He stops fighting, and drifts away again.

—A low rumble of Laoshi’s voice, concerned. 

—Pain in his throat, the skin on his neck… 

“Easy, child.” Popo.

—Something soothing over the rawness on the outside.

Horses, walking, the creak of wood over less-than-perfect road. He’s in a cart; how many times has he woken in a cart?

Instinctively, he breathes a whisper of calling through barely pursed lips, calling resentful energy to fill in the wounded places. His throat burns with it, and then cools. 

“What is he doing?” A sharp, feminine voice.

He smiles. “Qing-jie. You’re here.”

—A prick of a needle, the world goes away.

He surfaces slowly, a conversation happening over his head.

“—and as far as anyone knows, A-Ning and I are both dead, too.”

“Are you okay, A-Jie?” Oh, that’s Ning-gege. If he opens his eyes, Ning-gege will be breathing and pink and alive.

“I don’t want to think about how easy it was,” she says. “But I’m as okay as I could hope to be, A-Ning.”

“So you succeeded in eliminating Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu?” Laoshi’s voice is always such a comforting quiet rumble. 

“I did, along with eight of Wen Chao’s favorite, worst subordinates. There will still be an attack on Cloud Recesses—I have no way to get to Wen Xu in time, but hopefully they will hold it off.”

“Wen Chao… attacked Qinghe… last time, too,” Mo Xuanyu says, his voice weak and child-high and creaky. 

“Shhh, child, don’t talk,” Popo says. 

“Promised to share with Wen Qing… mind to mind…”

“If you can muster the energy to make it happen, I’ll allow it,” Wen Qing says. “But you haven’t opened your eyes yet.”

“Heavy,” he says, and reaches for his core. “Ow…”

It burns. The core is sputtering, still there, but the energy he’d been spilling over with is gone. A flash of panic runs through him, then a rigid determination. He finds just enough… 

Bringing his hand to his forehead is like lifting the entire world, but he does it, then says, “Put… hand on…forehead.”

When he feels her skin under his fingertips— and how do his fingertips hurt?— he reaches, as he was taught, for connection. 

He feels it connect, wills all the doors in his mind open, and that’s the last he knows for a long time.

Awakening

He wakes to familiar architecture and an even more familiar face.

Nie Huaisang looks so young, baby softness around his cheeks still as he sits, reading, next to Mo Xuanyu’s bedside. 

“A-Sang,” he says, and he will never get used to this piping child’s voice. His voice never got all that deep for an adult, but it had matured, grown richer in timbre over time. “You’re here.”

“Well, you’re here, baobei,” Nie Huaisang says, putting his book down. “Where else would I be?”

“Xian-die?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “Qing-jie?” 

“Off getting their family settled,” Nie Huaisang says. “You gave them quite a scare.”

“What happened, after Xue Yang?” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“He nearly ripped your throat out when you threw him off of you. I think your Xian-die—and that’s delightful, by the way, I will never let him live down his teen parenthood—held you together by sheer willpower until We—until Qing-jie could stitch you up. Apparently Lan Wangji flew all three of you. They couldn’t find your teleportation talismans.”

“They’re in my belt.”

“What belt? We bathed you and didn’t see a belt.”

Mo Xuanyu is currently dressed in a single layer, under a light quilt.

“Give me a moment.” Mo Xuanyu reaches for his core, finds it flickering a little brighter than last time, and encourages the energy to circulate through his body more effectively. A moment later, he puts a hand to his waist, and summons teleportation talismans to it. 

“These,” he says, opening his fingers and letting the papers fall on his belly.

Nie Huaisang reaches over and gingerly plucks the talismans off his belly, and turns them over in his hands. 

He holds up a thick talisman with writing on one side.

“Standard teleportation talisman, already charged, reusable.” Mo Xuanyu pauses to catch his breath, and continues. “Power intensive, can be charged over time.” 

Nie Huaisang holds up one which is thick and appears blank, except for a quick sketch of the Yunmeng Jiang logo.

“Charged teleport… only goes to Lotus Pier, wherever the array is. Rechargeable.”

“And if someone duplicates what they see?”

“Clan blanks won’t do anything. Teleportation talisman… probably suck them dry. Might work. Won’t be rechargeable.”

“So the design is proprietary,” Nie Huaisang says, his voice approving. 

“Your brother, supportive?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Skeptical, until the first resentful energy sink was made. Then completely on board. Qing-jie showing up with Wen Chao’s sword helped, too.”

“Need to talk to her,” Mo Xuanyu says. “So tired.”

“She’ll be here when you wake up,” Nie Huaisang says, but Mo Xuanyu is already out.

He wakes to Wen Qing at his bedside, to the feel of her spiritual energy cool through his whole body, soothing. 

Don’t talk, he hears in his mind. The connection—I’ve maintained it, but you really need to keep your throat still. 

He wonders if he’s going to live. 

Of course, A-Yu, you stupid, brave boy. I will not let you die, not after you’ve come so very far for us. 

Not stupid.

Even a genius can be stupid. 

There are things I need to tell you, Qing-jie.

I spent the first three days we were here combing through your memories, foolish child. 

He is startled that it actually worked. 

I think it helped that you very much wanted me to see it. I think we need to adjust your time travel talisman. 

There is a flash of panic that runs through his body, and then her quiet internal laughter. 

I’m nowhere near skilled enough to recreate it from your memories line-perfect enough to trust it. But I understand the theory as you understand it, and I believe that we can better protect your spiritual cognition. 

You think I’ll need to use it again? A feeling of tiredness washes through him, bone weary at the idea.

I think we need to be prepared that you might. There is so much to be done, and so little time. If we don’t succeed, and we won’t if I can’t get you back on your feet, you will need to jump again, and if you use the talisman as is, it will kill you. 

I thought it might. It felt like a close thing this time around. Will I recover?

You are already recovering. If I put one of your teleportation talismans in your hand, do you think you can draw from the charge? Say, half of one of the clan talismans?

He feels the paper under his fingertips, and she gives him a mental picture of what she wants him to do.

Aloud, she says, “Gently, baobao.”

Everyone calls me baby, he grumbles inside his head, and she laughs and sends him the picture of how she sees him, thin and small but with wide eyes and a child’s cheeks.

He sends her an image of how he looked at his oldest.

She sends back an image of him looking like a tiny old man. Laobaobao. Draw the energy in, slowly, carefully, let it move through your body and then settle in your core.

He can feel the energy under his fingertips. Can feel what she wants him to do. Frowns… Sends her an image of a mark she needs to add to the corner.

And then the energy is flowing, his own energy, moving easily now through the meridians she’s healed. He feels so warm, all over. He smiles, and opens his eyes.

She checks under the bandage on his neck, then gently pulls it away. “Congratulations,” she says. “You’re going to live.”

He is not allowed to build up more power, Wen Qing tells him, until his meridians are fully healed. But he wants to be where the Wen are, and where Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are. 

He is deeply shocked when Nie Mingjue comes into his sickroom not long after, and says, “Qing-daifu says you’re well enough to be moved, but not well enough to fly yourself.” He looks over at Wen Qing and asks, “Do you have all the things?” 

“And the things your brother added,” she says, holding up a red qiankun belt. 

“Right. Follow,” Nie Mingjue says, then he leans over, scoops Mo Xuanyu up into his arms, and strides out onto the balcony overlooking the inner courtyard.

Mo Xuanyu squeaks. “Nie-zongzhu!”

“My brother says that you are supposed to be his zhiji. Call me Da-ge.” Nie Mingjue drops his saber to hover just above the floor of the balcony, steps onto it, and takes to the air. Wen Qing follows.

“I have an older brother, though,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“He’s a da-ge. He’s your da-ge. I am Da-ge. Ask anyone. Sorry, Meimei, you’ve put yourself in the position of having a very large number of concerned older brothers.”

“I’m still wearing the braids, aren’t I,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Huaisang redid them into something more age appropriate, but yes. Very fetching. He’s been making funny bird noises about getting to dress you up. I hope you know what you’ve signed up for.”

“He was always like that,” Mo Xuanyu says fondly. “We both enjoy pretty things. He taught me to paint.” 

“Should I invite your mother to Qinghe?” Nie Mingjue asks. 

“Ah, she’s safer where she is, I think,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I don’t trust her not to tell a certain person where my friends are, later.”

“Hm, we shall have to come up with a solution, eventually. There’s no guarantee your, er, fathers will keep you here. They’re both beholden to other clans.”

“Where is A-Sang?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Ah, he listened to what Qing-daifu had to say after you woke up the first time, and went to take care of some things with our craftspeople. He said he would meet us at the village for your people later.”

“You made a new village for them?”

“Well, it turned out to be easier than trying to settle them someplace already established. We had an unfortunately haunted old settlement, and just one of your temporary wards sucked up all the old resentment. So they’re repairing it now. Where did you learn to do that?”

“The Burial Mounds,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I lived there for years. It was a bit bleak when we started but it was beautiful before the end…”

“The Burial Mounds! Something terrible must have happened, for you to leave your home.” Nie Mingjue looks horrified. 

“There are about a hundred of the Dafan Wen now,” Mo Xuanyu says impassively. “By the end of the war, in my first life, there were about fifty. By the time they escaped the work camps established by the Jin, there were a couple dozen. And in the last timeline all but one of those were alive, until the day I used the talisman. On that day, Xue Yang murdered at least half of them, turned them into fierce corpses, and made Wen Ning fight his own family. You’d been murdered about a week prior, as had all the clan leadership and heirs of both the Jin and Jiang clans, including a small child. I’d succeed in discrediting one of my brothers, who you know as Meng Yao. I had not succeeded in preventing him and his cronies from going on a murderous rampage.”

“I sent Meng Yao to Qishan before you arrived,” says Nie Mingjue. “He’s always been very reliable, so I’m hoping perhaps being entrusted with such an important task will help, but if I see any signs of treachery, I’ll kill him myself.”

“He is blazingly competent and utterly brilliant,” Mo Xuanyu says, “but he has no moral compass that I’ve ever been able to detect, and he lies as easily as he breathes. If he tells you that there’s an easy way to do something, it’s a trap. Tell me, have you seen your captain of the guard?”

“What? Yes, I saw him this morning.”

“In my experience, he disrespected Meng Yao and Meng Yao quietly killed him for it, during a Wen attack, trying to make it look like a Wen had done it. You caught him in the act, and banished him for it. That was days from now. He fled, helped Xichen-ge, went to Qishan, worked his way into Wen Ruohan’s confidence, and sent Xichen-ge maps and information. It was usually reliable, but when you personally took action on the information, you were captured, many of your soldiers were killed, and you barely escaped with your life. Meng Yao only turned on Wen Ruohan when it became clear that Wei Wuxian was winning the battle for control of the Yin iron. He stabbed the man in the back. Xichen-ge talked you out of killing him, after. Xichen-ge told me to tell him not to do that, this time.”

They land in a small village nestled in a valley in the woods of Qinghe. Mo Xuanyu can taste the lingering spirits, robbed of their resentment, and when he lets himself, he can see them, too. Lan Wangji is playing the guqin, A-Yuan strapped to his back, asleep with one cheek pressed against his baba’s shoulder. Lan Wangji’s long hair has been shifted over the opposite shoulder, but A-Yuan’s fingers are tangled in a few strands. The spirits, shapeless with time, seem to be listening.

Image by Procoffeinating

The sounds of construction rise from a number of the buildings, and there are stacks of building materials sitting here and there.

Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning are working on a house near where Lan Wangji sits, but Wei Wuxian is being remarkably ineffective because he keeps stopping to coo over how cute A-Yuan and his Lan Zhan are together, and the only thing this place needs besides more roofs is a bunch of bunnies.

Nie Mingjue calls out, “I’ve brought a special shipment for you. One meimei, only slightly worse for wear.”

“A-Yu!” Wei Wuxian calls out, then he drops the board he’d been lifting, and runs over. Behind him, Wen Ning sets his end down more gently, shaking his head with bemused tolerance. “Come to your Xian-die!”

Lan Wangji looks over, then gestures away his guqin and rises smoothly to join them.

“No exertion for our Yu-mei,” Wen Qing says. “I don’t even want A-Yu walking for another day.”

“What exactly happened to my body?” Mo Xuanyu asks her. “I was pouring out spiritual energy right and left and not feeling depleted. Why is recovery taking so long?”

“There’s a difference between using spiritual energy in a controlled way, even with a teleportation talisman, and a panicked shove of every last trace of spiritual energy to throw someone across a courtyard. You could have pushed with a tenth of the power and still accomplished the same goal. Your core had enough energy, but you had, at that point, the meridians of an eight-year-old. A precocious eight-year-old, but still.”

“I was about to kill him, anyway,” Wei Wuxian says. “You basically pushed him through my sword.” He shudders. “So gross.”

“Was that the first time you’d killed a person?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

“First time. Never want to have to do it again. Absolutely will if it is necessary to protect my family,” Wei Wuxian says abruptly. “I threw up because it was gross, not because I felt bad about doing it. He’d already killed half the cultivators there.”

Nie Mingjue says, “I threw up the first time I killed a boar. Who am I giving Yu-mei to?”

Wei Wuxian reaches his arms out, and Nie Mingjue hands him over. “A boar would have been fine. I’ve hunted plenty. People…”

Nie Mingjue nods in understanding. “I need to get back. You know what my desk looks like. Send a message for me if it’s not urgent, use your warning talisman if it is.”

“Mn,” Wei Wuxian says with a decided nod. Nie Mingjue takes off.

“What are we going to do with you, A-Yu?” Wei Wuxian says. “I want to talk to you, but we need to keep building.”

“A-Yu may sit,” Wen Qing says. “Make a comfortable spot over there, A-Ning.”

Soon Mo Xuanyu is tucked in off to one side from where they are building, and Wei Wuxian says, “Now tell me more about Xue Yang.”

“Last time he killed everyone who was home at the time, down to the babies and the clan goats,” Mo Xuanyu says. “We saved lives.”

“And we have what we set out to get,” says Lan Wangji. 

“There’s two more out there,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And I need to give you talismans. I wanted to go to Cloud Recesses with you, but I don’t think I can yet. But if we can be safe here, and I think we can, they’re going to need you, and they’re going to need Wen Qing, and you’ll need to go sooner than later.”

“What have you got?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“When I was sixteen, I went to Cloud Recesses and studied privately with Lan-Xianshang for most of a year. A large part of that year we spent working on wards, but you adapted several of them into talismanic amulets to stop projectiles and reflect weapons. We hadn’t gotten a chance to test them when everything went bad, but I think we can try them now. The Nie clan has the craftsmen for it. I have diagrams, and some rechargeable paper talismans. Stone or metal would be better for a permanent version, though.”

Wei Wuxian reaches out and makes a grabby motion.

Mo Xuanyu laughs, and summons the talismans to his hand. 

“They’re blank?” Wei Wuxian says, turning it over in his hand. “Oh, there’s a little arrow.” He turns the thing sideways and then holds it up to the light. “Oh, this is what Shijie was going to be doing… the talisman is on the inside?” 

“We ran into problems last time when they were able to look at some of my talismans and apply the techniques to others. I’ll show you… Did you keep the designs I already sent? Are they protected?”

Lan Wangji touches his waist. “Shufu has some, which he is keeping on his person at all times. The rest are with me, in one of your belts.”

“I can’t see his belt even when I’m looking for it,” Wei Wuxian says. “Why can’t you do a talisman like that instead of a don’t-look-here for people?”

“Ah, I tried.” Mo Xuanyu thinks about how to explain and then says, “Okay, so with the don’t-look-here they don’t notice me, but they don’t run into me. The belt is… you don’t know much about qiankun pouches, but it’s kind of… shifted? Like, when you tie it, there’s a thing that happens when the threads connect, and it sort of shifts the whole thing except the very end… away… like the inside of the bag. So since you access it by touch/thought, you touch the end and the thing you want ends up in your hand, but the rest of it just isn’t there. That part of it gets deactivated when you want to untie it. It’s like putting a bag in a bag, kind of, but there’s only one bag. But that doesn’t work for a whole person.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “You… The don’t-look-here is yours, not mine.”

“Xian-die, when have you ever wanted to not be seen? For me, I had to hide, in my first life, because I was living in Jinlintai and there was so much danger everywhere, all the time. After I learned how the qiankun pouches worked, and I started transcribing your notes from that scrawl you call writing, I realized that the body control talisman could be adapted to simply push everyone in the vicinity to ignore me, like a low-level mutter to the eyes to slip away and to the memory to not register. It works pretty well most of the time.”

“I still think invisibility would be nifty,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I did, in fact, manage to make myself invisible. But apparently, if you make your eyes invisible, they don’t actually work as eyes. So not only can’t anyone see you, but you can’t see them either. Not useful, and likely to get you killed in a battle. Plus, I think people might run into you.”

“Not so nifty,” Wei Wuxian says with a frown. 

“It was… unsettling. It wasn’t even dark, it was just a complete absence of vision. The mind creates things. I removed it very quickly.”

Mo Xuanyu asks to hold A-Yuan, so Lan Wangji gently brings the baby forward and then sets him, still sleeping, on Mo Xuanyu’s lap. 

Lan Wangji lets a hand linger on A-Yuan’s head, his hand so large that it curves around the whole thing. 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Mo Xuanyu says. “At least this way I can be useful. Where are the other kids?”

“A-Juan is with Popo to keep her out of the construction, and the older children are helping with planting,” Lan Wangji says.

“You have teleportation talismans to take us to Cloud Recesses?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Lan-Lao…xiansheng says that he’s going to have the array ready for us in a shichen.”

“Several of them, charged,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You’ll know they’re fully charged if they're red along the edges. Plain means no charge, shades of gray to black means almost, and red is ready to go. When we have more time, we can make more durable ones. Also Lotus Pier, and here. I have several go-anywhere talismans charged, but Wen Qing has dibs.”

“You know what she did to Wen Chao?” Wei Wuxian says, moving close, voice low.

“I have a vague memory of hearing her say he was dead,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“She drugged the guards, used her needles on everyone else, and incinerated them. Left most of their belongings behind, but made it look like a robbery. Left identifying scrap of clan robes, took their swords, made it look like she and Wen Ning had died, too. The swords, she spread out over miles, heading in the direction of Qishan, on her way to meet the Dafan, not in a straight line. They’ll spend months looking for the missing ones.”

“Good,” Mo Xuanyu says, with heat. “The things they were about to do…”

“She told us,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“Is Xichen-ge here?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“He came, left a library with Nie Mingjue, and went back to Cloud Recesses. We’ll join him soon.”

“Was Meng Yao here when we arrived?” Mo Xuanyu says. It is harder to keep his emotions off his face at age eight, he realizes. 

“We had on don’t-look-here’s and Nie Mingjue came out to meet us. We put privacy wards up, and went directly to the village, except you and Wen Qing, who were taken to a private room.”

“It used to be my bedroom, once upon a time,” Mo Xuanyu says dryly. 

“Well, anyway, he was gone soon after we arrived. Left when Xichen did. She took care of you until you were stable, and then came to check on us, and went back to check on you now and then, always wearing her don’t-look-here.”

“I was surprised that I didn’t have one on, there,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I had to put a new one on for the journey up here.” 

“Well, Nie Huaisang knew to look for you, and he took care of cleaning you up, so maybe he took it off then. He said the room was very private. He probably rabbited it away for his own use.”

“I’d have given him one anyway, but yeah, he very much would.”

“Anyway, Xichen still wants to meet you, but I think it will have to be after the attack.”

Mo Xuanyu yawns, and says, “You and Laosh—Baba should practice blending the Yunmeng water and Gusu air manipulations.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian says.

Mo Xuanyu’s eyes widen. “You… can you play a dizi yet?”

“Some, I guess?” Wei Wuxian says. 

“Go ask Popo who has the dizis. Right now.”

“I’m taking A-Yuan to her anyway,” Wei Wuxian says, picking up the baby carefully and letting him flop like a ragdoll onto his shoulder. “You’re getting tired.”

“Gotta stay awake to explain—“ Mo Xuanyu says, leaning back against the log behind him. 

“Close your eyes for a little, it’s okay,” Wei Wuxian says. 

He wakes in someone’s lap, warm and lazy, with a slow trickle of spiritual energy soothing his meridians. There’s something nice about being small enough to fit that way. The familiar low murmur of Laoshi’s voice against his ear becomes comprehensible and he realizes that Lan Wangji is explaining how the guqin can move large amounts of wind with broader or narrower effect. That his brother’s xiao is better at moving water, but lacks a certain precision that the guqin has with air. 

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t bother opening his eyes to say, “Dizi is better at precision than xiao. For dousing fires, you need both air and water, but it need not be precise. Whirl the air, suck up the water, dump it where you need it. You used to, the two of you… It was all Laos—Baba’s spiritual energy, but the dizi would explain to the water what it needed to do. I don’t know how it will work with you with your own spiritual energy. Maybe better? You should work on it at Cloud Recesses, with the waterfalls, in case they use fire.”

“I wonder if we could create a heavy enough fog…” Wei Wuxian says.

Mo Xuanyu drifts back to sleep again as Lan Wangji suggests something.

He wakes in a newly-roofed cottage, on a new bed, with A-Juan asleep next to him, and finds his core feeling, not full, but significantly better. 

He climbs off the platform and finds a chest of clothing with a neat stack on top, and dresses himself in the gown, peeking inside to find a variety of clothing in his size, in a variety of cuts, but mostly Nie Huaisang’s impeccable taste. His hair is still remarkably calm for waking up from a nap, but there is no mirror yet, and he trusts that it is sufficient while he puts on shoes, belt, fan, dizi, and sword. He does a double take at the fan, which is different from the one he went to bed with. Looking in the chest, he finds that one and several others.

“You’re not supposed to be up,” Wen Qing says behind him. 

“I feel better,” he says. 

“A-Ning will carry you outside if you want to go,” she says, bending down to put her fingers against his chest. He feels the cool tingle of her energy as she tests his meridians. “Better, but not stable. Think about the new skin over a burn, thin, fragile, but intact. Still easily broken and re-injured. Only it’s the things you will use your whole life to channel spiritual energy. We’re working very hard, very fast to accomplish everything we need to do to prevent you having to go back again. Please don’t fuck it up by burning out your meridians.”

“Yes, Qing-jie,” he says, not resisting at all when A-Ning comes forward to lift him. 

“Do… do you want me to call you A-Yu or Yu-mei?” Wen Ning asks, lifting him easily. 

“Oh! I… either, I guess,” Mo Xuanyu says, leaning against Wen Ning’s shoulder. There is something deeply comforting about being this small, he finds. He’d forgotten about it, though no one picked him up this way in his first life after he was four. 

“We know a couple people… their bodies did not fit who they felt themselves to be,” Wen Qing says as they walk out of the cottage. “Is that why you dress as a girl?”

“Oh! I…” Mo Xuanyu blinks in the bright sunshine. “I haven’t really thought about that. In… in my other life, someone called me a cutsleeve, and I didn’t know what it meant, and my brother gave me some materials… I was, oh, fifteen or sixteen, and he was raised in a brothel, so he had some opinions about the lack of information the children of the gentry are given on such things. And the first time I really felt like I could see who I wanted to be, it wasn’t the pictures of the women, it was the pictures of the men dressed as women. I—“ 

He looks for the words. “I don’t wish I was a woman, but it is a relief to have people look at me the way they look at women. To a point. Once, last time, I told someone I was a girl pretending to be a boy, and she was so much kinder to me. When I dressed as a married woman, few people bothered me but many offered to help. It feels like a kinder world when people think of me as a woman. But I never… I didn’t really want to do the things cutsleeves did, or anything else for that matter.”

He snorts then, remembering. “I did tell my father I was a cutsleeve to make him not want me. It just made him angry.”

They come to a large, roofed area, open on three sides, with rough benches and even rougher tables. Wen Ning sets him down on one of the benches, and says, “Let me know if you get too tired to sit up.” 

Fa Meili comes over and puts a small tray in front of him with meats, fruits, a bowl of rice, and cooked vegetables.

He stares. “It’s so much!”

“Nie Mingjue is very pleased with your wards,” Wen Qing says, dryly. “We have been amply provided for.”

“It didn’t stop him from qi deviating last time,” Mo Xuanyu says. “But both times, it was deliberately induced.”

“Hm,” she says. “Too bad you can’t stop whatever deliberately causes such things…”

“A inverted silence talisman might do it?” Mo Xuanyu says after swallowing a bite of food. 

“Wen Ning, please go find out if Wei Wuxian has eaten,” Wen Qing says. 

“Wha-what?” Wen Ning asks.

She sighs. “Go find him, ask him if he’s eaten. I know way, way too much about him, now, and I know when he’s focused he forgets to eat, and I don’t think Hangua… Lan Wangji has realized yet how much caretaking that man needs. And check on A-Juan.”

“Yes, A-Jie,” Wen Ning says, and walks off.

She leans forward and says urgently to Mo Xuanyu, “Something in your memories. After the Jin hurt Wen Ning, Wei Wuxian put his spiritual cognition back together, and managed to get all of it. Do you know how to create that talisman?” 

Mo Xuanyu considers. “It wasn’t entirely the talisman. The Yinhufu was also involved. But we can think on it. We may have to recreate the thing to defeat Wen Ruohan. When things settle down?”

She sighs. “If it was easy, it would already be done. When things settle down, then. What is next for me?”

“I’d like to see if you can get close enough to stop Wen Xu,” Mo Xuanyu says. “If you can, then I’d like to see if you can do the same with Wen Ruohan.”

“I’m listening,” she says.

He describes to her the combination of talismans that may get her into Wen Xu’s encampment and close enough to take action. She listens, nods, and accepts the talismans and a belt, then lays out the necessary needles. 

She is packing them back up when a call from just outside the ward goes up of “Second Jade! Lan Wangji! Message from Lan-zongzhu!”

“Lan-zongzhu doesn’t know where the paper supply lives, yet,” Wen Qing says dryly. 

Lan Wangji strides past at an unbelievably rapid walk, and Wen Qing hurries to finish packing before getting up to follow him. “Make him finish his meal,” she snaps at Wen Ning, who is rushing back to them, as she walks away.

Wen Ning stares down at Mo Xuanyu, who takes a giant bite of vegetable, picks up a plum, and says while chewing, “I’m done. Please help me go see what’s going on.”

Wen Ning looks back towards where his sister has gone, and then nods, stepping forward and gently scooping him up.

“—gathering at the base of the mountain,” the Lan disciple is saying. “They could be up at the gate in half a shichen.”

“We will come. The teleportation array is functional?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Mn, we were even able to test it.”

“A-Yu?” Wei Wuxian says.

Mo Xuanyu hands over the Lan-specific charged talismans, and several Nie-specific ones.

“I wish I could come with you,” he says. 

“You’ve done enough,” Wei Wuxian says.

“It’s so early. I wasn’t expecting him to be so fast,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“My cousin missed a check-in,” Wen Qing says. “Wen Ruohan probably told Wen Xu to go knock heads together and find out where all of us had gone, since that was the last place anyone saw us.”

“Fuck,” Mo Xuanyu says softly, and the Lan disciple looks appalled.

“Such language from a little girl!” 

Wei Wuxian snorts. “I was taught that strong language must only be used in circumstances which warrant it. Wen Xu attacking Cloud Recesses weeks early warrants it.”

“Thank you, Xian-die,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“A-Ning, stay here,” Wen Qing says. “Send a message to Nie Mingjue and tell him what has happened. Perhaps his disciples can help.”

“Mn,” Wen Ning says, nodding vigorously. 

“Ready?” Lan Wangji asks Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian.

They vanish with the Lan disciple.

“A-Ning, please take me back to the little cottage. Can you find me some writing supplies?”

Wen Ning doesn’t bother speaking, he just goes.

They send a note to Nie Mingjue, who shows up quickly with twenty disciples. Mo Xuanyu takes a stack of prepped talisman blanks, and starts writing. 

Ten teleportation talismans later, he straightens, and watches as ten of the disciples charge the talismans for the others to use. 

“I’m leaving most of them here,” Nie Mingjue tells Mo Xuanyu, nodding at the disciples who did the charging. “Nie Zonghui still has enough oomph to get you back to Huaisang. He’s very worried about you.”

“I thought I was going to stay here,” Mo Xuanyu says, frowning.

“There’s been some activity on the border. You’ll be safer in the walls of the fortress.”

“But the Wen…” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Hence the disciples,” Nie Mingjue says. “They’ll help with building while they’re here, but with Wen Qing gone, Huaisang wants you closer to healers. And he wants to talk to you. He’s very grumpy that I brought you here so quickly after you woke up.”

Mo Xuanyu smiles. “Yes, he would be.”

Nie Zonghui waits for Nie Mingjue and nine of his disciples to disappear with the newly charged talismans, and then accepts Mo Xuanyu from Wen Ning, stepping easily onto his saber.

Nie Huaisang is fussing over Mo Xuanyu almost from the moment they land with the setting sun, directing Nie Zonghui to carry Mo Xuanyu back to the overly comfortable bed he’d woken up in… that morning? 

“Tell me everything you can,” Nie Huaisang says. “I know you have a history with me, and I can’t imagine. You’re so cute and tiny!”

“I’ll be taller than you by the time I’m thirteen,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Everyone is, eventually,” Nie Huaisang says. “But right now, you’re a little meimei, and I’m going to very much enjoy having a sister.”

“You read most of the letters?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

“Many of them,” Nie Huaisang says. “I suppose I’ll die curious about whatever you told Lan Qiren.”

“Yeah, you will,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

They talk for a while, until Mo Xuanyu’s yawn stops him, and Nie Huaisang fusses and helps him get ready for bed by taking his braids down into something more comfortable to sleep in. 

A voice from the door interrupts them. “Shao-zongzhu, there’s a messenger at the gate!”

“From?” Nie Huaisang asks, his voice unusually brusque. 

“Xiandu! Should I admit him?”

“Absolutely not,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’ll go down.”

“Don’t go outside the ward,” Mo Xuanyu says urgently.

“I won’t. A-Tan, will you finish Yu-mei’s hair?” 

“Yes, Shao-zongzhu.”

The disciple, a boy of maybe twelve, comes in and quickly braids Mo Xuanyu’s hair into softer, looser braids, asks if there’s anything else he needs, and then makes a retreat.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t return before Mo Xuanyu falls into a fretful sleep.

He wakes to his brother’s face, stark and haunting in candlelight.

“You don’t look like much,” Meng Yao says, as Mo Xuanyu startles back, cringing away and scrabbling for his sword. 

It is in Meng Yao’s hand, sheathed.

“Looking for this?” Meng Yao asks. “So curious, a child I’ve never even been introduced to, so frightened of me. Why, I wonder?”

“I thought you were supposed to go to Qishan,” Mo Xuanyu says without thinking.

“Now how would you know that?” Meng Yao says, idly turning the sword around in his hands. “Such an interesting blade, this. So very Wen, and from the main family, if I’m not mistaken. Can you use it, a slip of a thing like you? Is your core that strong, at your age?” 

“You wouldn’t want to suffer what I’ve suffered to make a core this young,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“Ah, but better that than a weak, feeble core at my age,” Meng Yao says. “You have a look about you. Are you my sister?”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I’m not.”

“My brother, then?” Meng Yao asks.

Mo Xuanyu hesitates too long. 

“You see, I found something, the last time you were here,” Meng Yao says, holding up a don’t-look-here talisman. “I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t involved in quite a bit of activity happening in the clan. I’ve been involved in everything, lately, and found myself cut out suddenly, just as new wards were being placed and a whole village’s worth of people seems to have come and gone with no one noticing. So I started looking more closely, and what did I find but a Wen, here, where our beloved Zongzhu cannot abide Wen at all, and a sick child, being doted upon by our own dear A-Sang. It did not take much to distract Huaisang long enough to find out why I only saw you when I searched particularly hard. Such an interesting talisman. Responsive even to my weak touch.”

Mo Xuanyu glances toward the door, but Meng Yao shakes his head. “Don’t bother. I put up a silencing spell. You bring so many clever toys with you. And I'm afraid A-Sang can be careless.”

“Why aren’t you in Qishan?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“See, now, there are very few people in this world who I truly respect, didi. Oh, I’m assuming that my dear father either conned or molested your mother until you happened. It’s what he does. You have the look. Smart, to come here, and not to Lanling. Oh, I see you know about Lanling, then? Did you know they threw me down the stairs?”

Mo Xuanyu nods.

“My reputation has spread so far… into the future, was it?”

And now, Mo Xuanyu is truly afraid. He thinks of reaching for a teleportation talisman, but he’s given them all away, and where would he go? His time travel talisman might kill him. Then again— 

Meng Yao has drawn the small sword, turning it over in his hands. 

“The two men I’ve respected the most are Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao says, studying the shine of the blade with the candle he still holds. 

“Lan Xichen often comes to visit here. We’ve had quite a nice correspondence, and he’s been helping me develop my core. Every time he comes, he brings new books for me to study, and takes away the ones he left before. He looks me in the eye. He calls me so politely. He has always been so kind. But the last time he came, he—” Meng Yao closes his eyes for a split second, and Mo Xuanyu puts his hand on his own belly, resting on the belt. 

Meng Yao’s eyes open, and Mo Xuanyu freezes. 

“Imagine my disappointment when there were no new books, when he wouldn’t look at me. When he agreed with Nie- zongzhu that I should be sent as a spy on a dangerous mission, because I’m so good at making people accept me, and because they really need information, though, as far as I know, we are not yet at war with the Wen. Only… we will be, won’t we?”

“You will be a war hero,” Mo Xuanyu says softly. “You will stab Wen Ruohan in the back, and end the war, and our father will welcome you to Lanling Jin and call you Jin Guangyao.”

“Not Ziyao?” Meng Yao asks. “Anyone would assume that it would be Ziyao. You know differently.”

“He has forgotten that he raped Qin Cangye’s wife, while he was drunk. He doesn’t know that he’s Qin Su’s father. He will support you marrying her. You will find out when it is too late to back out, that she is our sister. His acclaim is… not worth striving for,” Mo Xuanyu says softly. 

“You are terrified,” Meng Yao says. “No one has ever, I think, been as scared of me as you are right now.”

“Have you killed the captain of the guard yet for calling you the son of a whore?” Mo Xuanyu asks. 

Without warning, Meng Yao snarls and plunges the sword into Mo Xuanyu’s belly, activates the don’t-look-here talisman, and runs.

It takes Mo Xuanyu a long moment to process that there is a sword in his belly.

His body seems frozen, and he struggles past the spreading fire in his gut to think. He manages to summon the time travel talisman to his hand, but does not activate it. 

It will kill you if you use it again as-is, Wen Qing had said. He thinks about that. He’s not dead yet, he might have enough time… he brings out a talisman blank, considers it, and then the blood seeping out around the sword. 

How many times had he watched Wei Wuxian casually bleed himself and then direct the blood into precise forms? He knows the talisman like the back of his own hand, better, even, with his hands so small and unfamiliar now… And there’s so much blood.

There is enough resentful energy from his own heart alone in this moment to use to both slow the wound and direct the blood to the talisman. He has always made a cage for his spiritual cognition with the refined qi of his golden core, to hold it together. Now, he writes the talisman to turn it into something like a qiankun pocket of pure qi, to feed his cognition more gradually into his younger body. 

He stares at the finished talisman. Dare he activate it? Will it work? He has it set to take him to a week after the start of the Cloud Recesses lectures, a year ago. With more time, can they plan better? More discreetly? Can he stop Meng Yao and Lan Xichen from forming a friendship deep enough to betray?

He writes a note, slaps a talisman on it, and winces as he activates it. His meridians are not happy, but it won’t matter, one way or another. 

He waits, wondering if he’s dying, and waits, then he adds some radicals onto the talisman so that if he stops breathing, it will automatically trigger, and presses it to his chest. 

He waits.

The room is spinning and darkening when he hears Wen Qing’s voice shouting, “A-Yu!” 

He feels her hand on his chest, feels her qi start to flow into him just as everything—

Part 6: Fifth Loop

Chapter 31: Wen Qing, Twenty-One

Cloud Recesses

The first thing she hears is her brother’s voice, low and urgent. “Please, I can feel it, she’s getting better. Please don’t contact Xiandu…”

“It has been three days,” another voice says.

Wen Qing blinks awake slowly to see her brother’s clean face and the serene architecture of the Cloud Recesses. And Lan Qiren, and a healer.

“A-Yu!” she says, sitting bolt upright, and then, “What…”

There is more puppy-fat on Wen Ning’s face than there was the last time she saw him. “Oh, fuck,” she breathes. “When… what day is it?”

“You’ve been unconscious for three days,” the healer says.

“How long have we been here? I mean, at Cloud Recesses?” she asks, a feeling of dread growing.

“Wen Chao dropped us off ten days ago, Jie, why?” Wen Ning asks.

She taps into her golden core, and is shocked by how strong it is. Power rushes through her, and she scrambles to control it, soothing it through her meridians, directing it to heal as it goes. She feels practically drunk with it, there’s so much. 

She reaches for him, and directs a focused stream, letting it spread through him, and he startles. 

“Wen-daifu, you must not…” the healer begins, and she waves him off.

She looks at Lan Qiren. “I need talisman paper,” she says. “Right now.”

Then she says to Wen Ning and the healer, “You two, please leave the room. I need to speak to Lan-xiansheng in private, immediately.”

Lan Qiren gets out talisman paper from his qiankun pouch almost without thought, saying, “Wen-daifu, I don’t understand…” as he hands it to her.

She throws qi at the paper for a silence talisman and activates it. “You told someone, years from now, that Lan Kaishen fathered Lan Huan, so that you would trust him if he came back in time to talk to you. And I need to go now and save his life. The lives of half of the disciples in Cloud Recesses depend on it.”

“What…” Lan Qiren says, recoiling. “How… if I told… I must have trusted… How could you…”

“I am here to stop Wen Ruohan from destroying the cultivation world with Yin iron,” she says. “The person you trusted was in his teens when you told him. He’s seven years old now, and probably on the verge of qi deviation. I would explain more, but there’s no time. I need more paper, cinnabar ink, and I need it before I qi deviate myself, and then I need to leave, with no-one the wiser.”

“Yin… teen… what?”

“Time travel,” she says, taking the writing supplies he’s already holding out.

It is somehow easier, with so much qi flowing through her, to access the memories she’d gleaned from Mo Xuanyu when she first met him. He’d drawn teleportation talismans so many times… and she can remember the standard one. She has so much power right now… surely…. She remembers how he stored power in them. 

Please please please, she thinks, as she writes out three talismans. Please don’t let me be the only one who came back, baobei. We need you. Please be okay.

She charges one, fully, and assesses. 

Lan Qiren watches her, eyes wide. 

She still has more power than she did before… she charges the second one, and still feels overfull. After the third, she can still feel the improved capacity, but it isn’t crackling underneath her skin. 

She sighs with relief. “Time travel seems to magnify the core, but not quite as much as it magnifies the spiritual energy within the core,” she says, standing and pulling on the rest of her clothes.

Lan Qiren turns away as he says, “So this boy… seven? He wouldn’t have had a core at all.”

“That didn’t stop him the last several times he’s traveled. But he was already so strong… I must go, and quickly. It may already be too late. I will return as soon as I can. Please allow my brother to cover for my absence. Wen Ruohan must not know I’ve left.”

“You know my worst secret,” he says.

“I pulled it from his mind on the last go round, while he was unconscious,” she says. “He did not betray you willingly, though he trusted me enough to open his mind to me completely. The things I learned from him… he has my undying loyalty. Once, he had yours as well. He will again, should he live.”

She has collected her things. She frowns, and then turns around to see him holding out a purse and a medical kit.

“Would these help?” Lan Qiren asks.

She thinks she has enough, but just in case… “I do have money and supplies, but I don’t know what I’m going to be walking into. Thank you, I will return what I do not use.” She  drops the silence ward.

She opens the door to find her brother waiting. She speaks softly when she tells him, “A-Ning, I need you to stay here, go to our guest quarters. If anyone else asks where I have gone, tell them I’m resting and have asked not to be disturbed. I will explain when I return. Under no circumstances should anyone contact Wen Ruohan.”

“Mn,” he says with an earnest nod. 

“If you need help, ask Xiansheng,” she says. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She activates the first teleportation talisman before he can respond.

Mo Village

The talisman deposits her at the gate of Mo Village, the only part of it she’s seen with living eyes. 

The gate guard blinks at her. “Wen-guniang?”

“Wen-daifu,” she corrects him. “I need to know if Mo Xuanyu has been ill.”

He frowns. “Xuan… You mean A-Yu?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, has he been ill?”

“Yes, we sent to the Jin, but they haven’t responded yet,” he says. “He fell unconscious three days ago, and has been running a high fever. Mo-furen and Mo-er-furen are both beside themselves.”

“I’m a doctor,” she snaps. “Take me to them.”

He looks around wildly, then spots a servant. “Lao-Ting, please escort Wen-daifu to Mo-furen.”

The servant bows, and says, “This way, Daifu.”

When the door of the sickroom opens, she is knocked back by the heat and the stench of incense and the cloying-sweet drunken smell that high fevers sometimes produce. 

“Why is this room so warm?” she asks. She looks over at a man who is brewing tea. “Open the windows and air it out.” At a woman, finely dressed. “You should have them remove all incense. We need a cool bath.”

“Who are—A Wen? Wen-guniang?” the finely dressed woman asks.

“Wen-daifu,” Wen Qing corrects. “I am a cultivator and a doctor and the niece of Wen Ruohan himself, and I understand that Mo Yu is sick.”

“We asked the Jin,” the woman next to Mo Xuanyu says through tears. “He should send someone. He’s Jin-zongzhu’s son.”

“That man wouldn’t do the right thing if it would save his life,” Wen Qing snaps. “He’s not here. I am. And I may be the only one who can save your boy. Will you let me?”

Mo-er-furen sobs and nods.

“Right,” Wen Qing says, and sits down on the edge of the pallet. “I need a tray.” She reaches for Mo Xuanyu’s wrist— he is so tiny, how could a heart that big fit in such a small body— and realizes nothing is happening around her.

“I told you, open the windows, clear out the incense, and bring me a tray. Now, if you want him to live!” she snaps, and then closes her eyes, reaching into his body with her energy to figure out what’s wrong. 

There is a bustle behind her, but she’s too focused to notice.

The amount of energy in his body is not as terrifyingly huge as she’d feared, but it is much, much too high. And getting higher, as— oh, you brilliant boy— a structure of pure qi bleeds slowly into his nascent dantian. He’d be dead, if he hadn’t slowed it down. He may still die, there is so very much—

She opens her eyes. “Talisman paper,” she snaps. “Or those luck talismans you have around the house. At least… six of them? Maybe seven? I need the talisman paper immediately.”

“Do they have to be unused, the talismans?” the servant who escorted her asks.

“No, any of them are fine. They’re worthless, but for the value of the paper itself. Grab them off the walls, but do it now.”

She knows he did this, multiple times, in multiple jumps. Soon, a stack of talisman papers are in front of her. They won’t have the right ink—the talismans are a decent quality of paper, but inked with a cheap ink which won’t support spiritual energy. 

She sighs, pulls out a needle, pricks her own finger, and directs her own blood onto the back of the paper, another teleportation talisman because it’s the one most fresh in her memory and it can take so very much qi.

As soon as the thing is done, she dries it with a puff of power, and puts a hand on Mo Xuanyu’s chest, pulling—the energy flows out of him like it is desperate for a place to go, and rushes through her and into the talisman. She struggles to regulate the flow, but then gets the hang of it. Has she ever tried to take qi out of a patient before?  

When the edges of the talisman turn red, she tamps off the flow of energy and lifts her hand, then pricks her finger again and repeats the process.

Her core more than doubled in her one journey back. She can’t grasp how much energy is in his tiny body right now. She cuts off the flow and turns her attention to his dantian, guiding it to expand, moves along the meridians, coaxing the qi to reinforce them rather than burn through them. His qi responds to her like an old friend. Really, at this point, it probably is. She moves on to his systems, feeling through his head and heart and spleen and liver and directing the qi to soothe every rough place. It feels like she’s teaching his body to heal itself, and maybe she is. 

“Cool, moist towels,” she says to his mother. “He can’t produce enough sweat to keep himself cool, you have to do it for him, with water.”

She looks over at his aunt. “If someone brings a clean bowl of water and a soft cloth, you can get moisture into him.”

Mo-furen blinks at her sharp tone, and then nods. “Yes, Wen-daifu.”

“I can’t pay you,” Mo-er-furen says softly, as Mo-furen steps out of the room.

“I don’t expect you to. I’m actually going to need to bring you and A-Yu with me when I go.”

“To Qishan?” Mo-er-furen asks, looking alarmed.

“No,” Wen Qing says. “To Cloud Recesses. His brother is there and will want to see him.”

“Jin-shao-zongzhu?” Mo-er-furen asks.

“Yes. He’s much kinder than his father, once you get past the prickly exterior.”

“I thought his father would help—“ Mo-er-furen says softly. 

“You’re better off if his father forgets he exists,” Wen Qing says. “And so is he.”

“Jin-zongzhu is a great man! And he was very fond of A-Yu!” Mo-er-furen says indignantly.

Wen Qing sighs, and then says bluntly, “Mo Xiuying, you are twenty-three years old, and you became ‘too old’ for his preferences three years ago. Jin Guangshan is a rapist, a child molester, and an adulterer, and he would sell his own children for a handful of gold if it suited him. I have heard stories that a bastard child of his came to ask for his acceptance, and he had the boy thrown down the steps of Jinlintai.”

She continues, ignoring the tears slipping down Mo Xiuying’s cheeks. “His wife will not tolerate bastards, and the Jin clan is a viper pit. Jin Zixuan may well be the only decent man to come out of the main family line in several generations. Your son will do much better at Cloud Recesses. And so will you. Jin Guangshan liked fucking you, for a while, and found A-Yu a convenient way to keep you on a leash. But he doesn’t like women who’ve given birth, past a certain age. He is never coming back for you, and he’d only come back for A-Yu to use him, if he felt he had no other choice.”

Mo Xiuying recoils, and then starts to cry. Her sister is standing next to them, looking at Wen Qing with some deep recognition. Had she had this very conversation with her sister? Would she, someday? Mo Xuanyu’s memories of her had not implied the level of concern Wen Qing sees now, colored by more than a decade of further experience, interaction with his cousin, this woman’s son, now a toddler.

When had things shifted?

Mo-furen kneels next to Mo Xuanyu’s head and asks, “How should I do this?”

Wen Qing pulls a little jar of salve from her kit and hands it to Mo-furen. “Use this on his lips, so as not to crack them when you open his mouth. Then dip the cloth in water, and tuck the end in his mouth. Put the other end in the bowl, and hold the bowl just a little bit above. The moisture will trickle in slowly through the cloth, and will not overwhelm him.”

“Should I add salt?” Mo-furen asks. 

“A pinch of salt and a little honey or juice, after the first bowl. We need the tissues in his mouth moistened immediately, though.” Wen Qing writes another talisman, and fills it with Mo Xuanyu’s qi. 

“What—what is wrong with him?” Mo-furen asks. “The healers had never seen anything like it.”

“It is a strange kind of spiritual illness, and extraordinarily rare. If he survives, he may end up being one of the strongest cultivators the world has ever seen. But his survival will require extensive supervision, for a long time, and education, and resources which cannot be provided here.”

“How did you know?” Mo Xiuying asks. “How did you know that he was like this?”

“I cannot explain, other than that he called for me from a distance, and I had records of a similar illness, and followed the call here,” Wen Qing says.

The other two women seem to accept this well enough, and Wen Qing continues with her work. 

Much later, someone puts a meal down next to her and Mo-furen says, “Please, Wen-daifu, it would look poorly if we did not provide for your comfort.”

Wen Qing blinks at her, because she is still simmering with energy, and hadn’t even noticed the inedia. 

Mo Xuanyu is less feverish already, so she sighs and then nods. “Thank you, Mo-furen. Most kind.”

“Xiandu’s own niece, how could I not?” Mo-furen says. “I should send him a note, thanking him.”

“Do not,” Wen Qing snaps. “He does not know I am here, and would not have cared to send me if he’d been asked. I am here on my own. There is nothing to be gained by implying you owe him anything at all. Best to go completely unnoticed.”

Mo-furen’s eyes go wide at that, and she frowns. “I don’t understand.”

Wen Qing sighs. “Just… trust me. Even his allies suffer from his attention. You do not want to be indebted to the man under any circumstance. Best to stay out of clan business entirely. Tend to your own people. If you need anything, send to Gusu Lan, not Qishan Wen, not Lanling Jin. Qishan Wen will take your people and your independence, Lanling Jin will take your gold and your dignity. Gusu Lan will only take your tea, and will provide better help, besides.”

She remembers something similar from a conversation an adult Mo Xuanyu had in his first lifetime. Strange to think how much older he is, in his soul, than she is in hers. And yet she, too, remembers so very much beyond her own life. It is hard to remember that she is only barely twenty-one. She remembers being twenty-two. She remembers being twenty-five. She remembers seeing herself at age 30 through Mo Xuanyu’s eyes. She remembers being dead.

Her head feels stuffed full, as though any more knowledge will make information just start falling out of it. How can he possibly retain it all?

Mo Xuanyu is stable enough for her to apply an herbal febrifuge, trickled into the newly moistened tissues of his mouth at a slow drip from a vial in her kit. It is a tincture, in distilled rice wine, but a tiny amount, and the alcohol will slow his qi anyway, which is all for the good. 

“You can have someone fetch broth, honey, salt… Have someone make him juice, citrus or plum, diluted…”

It goes on like that until far into the night, when his fever finally breaks completely and his core is no longer terrifyingly overfull compared to his body’s capacity. 

Someone brings a bedroll in for her when she asks, and she falls asleep almost immediately after giving instructions to one of the servants to keep him hydrated through the night.

In the morning, she asks if there is a wet nurse who might be able to give some milk for the child, as it will be safer to test swallowing, and will speed healing. 

Mo-furen nods. “Ziyuan’s wet nurse has more than enough, and he eats food well.”

Not too much later, a small bowl is brought. “How much will you need?” the servant asks.

“Just this,” Wen Qing says. “Even a small amount can be strengthening in such a severe illness in a young child. This should help him turn the corner.” She knows he’s seven, but he’s so small… 

She sets the bowl down, climbs onto the bed and lifts Mo Xuanyu’s limp body up, then sits cross-legged with him in her lap. It takes a moment to get him settled in a position where she can both hold the bowl and control his head with her other arm. 

She brings the bowl up to rest against his mouth, without tipping it, and says to Mo Xiuying, “Use the spoon to put a drop on his lips.”

The milk spreads across his lips, trickles in the corner of his mouth, and then disappears. He doesn’t move other than his breathing.

“Another drop,” she says. 

This time, there is a motion in his mouth, just a small one, his tongue shifting reflexively. 

“More, just as slow,” Wen Qing murmurs.

This time, the lips purse, and twitch.

“Again.”

He swallows, and his lips part slightly.

“More,” Wen Qing says, and Mo Xiuying empties the spoon.

Wen Qing adjusts the bowl against the pursed lips, and nearly cheers when he begins to draw the fluid down, swallowing. She smiles up at the boy’s mother, radiant with victory. “He should live,” she says. “Sometimes a fever like that will stop certain reflexes, but he is still young enough to have a trace of the suck-and-swallow babies are born with. It’s a very good sign.”

The bowl is not large, and he finishes it without waking.

Mo Xiuying says, “He used to do that in his sleep, nurse without fully rousing.”

“It’s why I wanted milk for him. The other liquids, we only gave enough for them to soak in through the tissues in his mouth. This… after this we should be able to get him to swallow larger amounts of other things.”

Wen Qing pauses, thoughtful, then touches her forehead, and then his, with a whisper of power, testing for… something in him reaches for her just as surely as his mouth had yearned for milk, and the connection they shared in another lifetime reawakens. 

His mind, still unconscious, is as intact as the first time she did this. She smiles again, and then looks up at his mother. “You should pack your things and his, only the things you cannot do without. More will be provided for you.” 

There is enough gold in her own purse to cover whatever they need in the immediate future. Once she sets things in motion at Cloud Recesses, gold will not be an issue at all. 

She stands with Mo Xuanyu in her arms and then lowers him gently back to the bed. He’s so slight… 

A servant comes in, bearing breakfast. While Wen Qing eats, she plans. Every so often she scribbles down another talisman.

Caiyi

She takes them to Caiyi by teleportation talisman, landing in the courtyard of an inn she’d stayed at, years before, when she’d attended the wedding of one of the Lan clan, when her parents were still alive. They surprise a servant doing laundry, and soon after, they have one of the better rooms in the inn.

Wen Qing watches as Mo Xiuying gets broth into Mo Xuanyu successfully, without help, and nods. She scribbles a quick and simple alarm talisman, drawing from his memories again, and then its mate, and gives one to Mo Xiuying. “If he has a turn for the worse, tear it in half, and it will alert me. If he wakes up, be prepared. Feed him, immediately, but do not leave him alone. If he disappears, do not panic, but use the talisman and stay here.”

She pauses, thinks, and then goes to the room’s desk. As she expected, there are writing supplies. She writes him a note, in cursive.

“I can’t read that,” Mo Xiuying complains. “How could he?”

“Just trust me,” Wen Qing says. “He might not wake up for another day. I should be back in about half a day. A day at most.”

“Wen-daifu?” Mo Xiuying says, looking up at her.

“Yes?” Wen Qing says.

“Thank you for taking care of us. For taking care of A-Yu. For… everything.” Mo Xiuying drops her eyes and blushes.

She really is very pretty. 

Wen Qing sighs. “I can’t explain it yet, but your son has paid any debt incurred here, a thousand times over. You need not thank me. You are not in my debt.”

“My father once said that for those close to us, debts are never incurred, and never paid,” Mo Xiuying says. “My sister said it was nonsense, but I… You may not accept that I owe you a debt, but I am still grateful for my son’s life.”

“So am I,” Wen Qing says.

It had occurred to her, during breakfast, that the biggest problem they’d faced, last time, other than rushing, was that Mo Xuanyu, while understandably keeping to the people he trusted most, had simply not had time or inclination to tap into the people with the most experience in subterfuge and careful manipulation of this era. More likely, he just hadn’t known.

Wen Qing smiles as she activates the teleportation talisman, focusing hard on the gate of Lotus Pier.

Lotus Pier

The guard at the gate has a sword pointed in her direction before her vision clears. She puts her hands up, and says, “Please, I come with an urgent message for Yu-furen.” She activates the don’t-look-here. It shouldn’t work on him, since he already knows she’s there, and it shouldn’t work on Yu Ziyuan, who will come looking for her. It should keep casual observers from reporting back.

He puts his sword away and bows. “Pardon, Wen-daifu.” He turns, calling out to one of his shidis, “Go tell Yu-furen that there is a Wen doctor here with an urgent message for her.”

“I need a private audience,” Wen Qing adds.

“Requesting a private audience,” he calls out to the boy.

Wen Qing winces. She’d considered teleporting farther into the clan, but she’d suspected, apparently correctly, that it would have gotten her skewered. The don’t-look-here will only do so much against gossip.

Yu Ziyuan takes her time, and appears more than an incense stick later with her maids flanking her. “Wen-daifu,” she says.

“Zi Zhizhu,” Wen Qing says with a deep bow. “I have an urgent matter to discuss with you, but it would be best to do it in private.”

“If Wen Ruohan has something to say, I’m sure he can take it up with my husband,” Yu Ziyuan says.

“I come on my own,” Wen Qing says softly. “It regards the Yin iron.”

“Follow,” Yu Ziyuan says curtly, and turns on her heel.

They go to a pavilion that looks over the water, and Yu Ziyuan gestures for Wen Qing to sit. 

Wen Qing looks at the maids, and Yu Ziyuan says, “They are unimpeachable.”

“It is the Yin iron,” Wen Qing says. 

Yu Ziyuan sighs, and gestures with her chin at the maids. They withdraw about twenty feet. 

Wen Qing activates a privacy talisman. It is one of the simpler talismans in Mo Xuanyu’s repertoire, and one he did frequently. 

“Speak,” Yu Ziyuan says.

“Wen Ruohan has a chunk of the Yin iron and has figured out how to turn living people into puppets,” Wen Qing says without preamble.

“Fuck,” Yu Ziyuan breathes. 

“Exactly,” Wen Qing says. “It’s worse than that, though. In the next eighteen months, he will acquire two more pieces, destroy the Cloud Recesses, take the clan heirs hostage, and eventually destroy this clan.”

Yu Ziyuan’s eyes narrow. “How can you possibly think that I would let that happen?”

“Zhao Zhuliu has become Wen Zhuliu, and is Wen Ruohan devoted servant, willing to use his core-crushing skill to do whatever his master or his master’s sons bid him to do.”

Yu Ziyuan breathes in sharply. “How can you know this? Are you so involved with Xiandu that he trusts you with these plans?”

“It is a very long, very complicated story,” Wen Qing says. “Will you listen?”

Yu Ziyuan nods. 

“First, you and I have never spoken before. But I know that your son’s imbalance with your husband’s ward’s strength eats at you, and that the rumors of his parentage make mention of him intolerable. I also know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Wei Wuxian is not your husband’s offspring. He is, in fact, a distant cousin of one of you, but I don’t know which side.”

“He told you that?”

“When he was, oh, twenty or so,” Wen Qing says, “he developed a tool which can determine kinship by degree. He and Jiang Wanyin tried it, and their connection was only one of six stones. My brother and I lit all six, as did your daughter and her son.”

“He’s only fifteen! Are you expecting me to believe…”

“That Wei Wuxian is brilliant enough to help create a time travel talisman? Yes,” Wen Qing says, and waits.

“That idiot boy,” Yu Ziyuan starts and then frowns. “Why are you the one talking to me if he was the one who did it?”

“I said helped. He failed, the first time, and it killed him. It took Jiang Yanli’s spirit and the help of someone else to perfect it.”

“Why come to me?” Yu Ziyuan asks.

“Because while I think you’re a terrible parent, I think you’re an amazing cultivator, and neither Wen Ruohan or Jin Guangshan will pay the least amount of attention to your activities.”

Yu Ziyuan grimaces slightly, but doesn’t disagree. She gestures for Wen Qing to continue.

“The Yu are known in certain circles for their… discretion and willingness to do the necessary thing. And if things continue, at the very least you and your husband and the vast majority of your clan will be wiped out and your daughter will die. At worst, the entire clan, including your son and your grandson will be wiped out completely. I happen to respect your son, or at least, I will once he stops being an annoying teenager, and I am deeply, personally indebted to Wei Wuxian, who has, in every lifetime, stepped up to protect both your family and mine beyond what any person could ever reasonably expect of another.”

“That irreverent, disrespectful—“ Yu Ziyuan starts, but Wen Qing puts up a hand and shakes her head.

“In the first timeline I know of, after Lotus Pier fell, Jiang Wanyin’s core was crushed. My brother rescued him from Wen Chao’s clutches, and took him, Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian to safety, with me. Wei Wuxian was beside himself because Jiang Wanyin was dying, having lost his will to live with the fall of Lotus Pier and the loss of his core.” The words spill out from her in a rush. She spent a long time with this memory, the first time, because it had been horrifying to her, but also fascinating.

She continues. “He scoured my library, and found notes I’d made on a possible procedure for transplanting a golden core from a willing donor to someone who had lost theirs. I wrote it as a theoretical exercise after seeing someone’s core crushed by Wen Zhuliu.”

She takes a deep breath, and then says. “Wei Wuxian was a willing donor. He remained a willing donor through two and a half excruciating days, awake, while I severed his core from his body to place it within your son. A core, I may add, which was one of the strongest I have ever felt. Jiang Wanyin used that core to rebuild the Jiang clan from the ground up, and he became one of the strongest clan leaders and cultivators of our generation. Using the core of the boy you have rejected at every turn, which he built up in spite of your constant sabotage. So please, you do not have to like him, but I will not hear of him being anything but completely loyal to his family.”

“And what did he do to make you so loyal?” Yu Ziyuan asks. “That your brother and you would commit treason to help him?”

“For my brother, he was kind… Of all the people in our lives, he was the only person other than me, by that point, who really valued Wen Ning and treated him with respect. And my brother begged… My softness was repaid tenfold when Wei Wuxian saved my entire remaining close family from a prison camp after the war. They were being tortured… my grandmother… my baby cousin… So many others had already died. They murdered Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian revived him.”

“Without a golden core?” 

Wen Qing explains the ghostly path, the Yinhufu, everything. Yu Ziyuan stops her long enough to send for food, and they continue with the story of Mo Xuanyu, Jin Guangyao, the different time loops.

“So you’re from the most recent loop?” Yu Ziyuan asks. “And you remember all of this from this child’s memory?”

“He knew things about each of us that he could have only learned if we’d told him ourselves. The kinds of things you only tell a person you trust completely. He told us our own secrets, and then gave us the keys to solve most of the problems quickly, but…”

“But you ran into things you hadn’t thought to control for.”

“It turns out when you start sneaking around with a clan leader behind his second-in-command’s back, the second-in-command, who is a sneaky bastard in every sense of the word, gets suspicious. He stabbed A-Yu, and I got dragged back in time with him.”

“This Meng Yao didn’t get dragged back, too,” Yu Ziyuan asks.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’d have seen him.”

“So you come to me. And what do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to bring your dear friend Duan Ai and come to Cloud Recesses with me.”

Yu Ziyuan looks deeply startled by the notion. “To what end?”

“Well, first of all, you’re going to need to negotiate the marriage of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. No, don’t look so appalled. They’re a good match, an excellent political match, it will get him out of your hair, and you might even get a grandchild out of it. Plus, he’ll have to live under Lan rules.”

Yu Ziyuan cocks her head to one side, and then a slow smile crawls across her face. “And second?”

“Second, Duan Ai may need to give her son permission to break his engagement with Jiang Yanli under the condition that he spend more time with her first.”

“You said they ended up married?” Yu Ziyuan asks.

“Happily. He will be a good man when he pulls his head out of his Jin-ness.”

Yu Ziyuan snorts. 

“No, he will come to hate his father in short order.”

“There’s more?”

“I suspect that it would be most beneficial to introduce Qin Su to Lan Xichen.”

“Lan Xichen is a cutsleeve,” Yu Ziyuan says.

“He is also a clan leader without heirs who knows his duty, and his brother’s only children that I know of—unless Wei Wuxian comes up with something really off the wall—are born Wen, and the Wen name is unlikely to be good for much in about three years.”

“You would undercut your own clan?” Yu Ziyuan asks.

“I would save the Dafan Wen from the predations of the Qishan Wen and the Lanling Jin in a heartbeat,” Wen Qing says. “Xiandu caused my parents’ deaths and the loss of part of my brother’s spiritual cognition. He will allow his son enough latitude to turn the rest of my family into puppets. I owe him nothing.”

“Good girl,” Yu Ziyuan murmurs, and then asks, “And you think Lan Xichen would be an acceptable spouse for this girl, Qin Su?”

“He was fond of her, and they got along, and he would be a thousand times better for her than marrying her brother and having her son murdered by her husband.”

“And what do we do about the man who allowed two of his children to marry?”

“I can provide categorical, obvious, visible proof of Jin Guangshan’s rape of a child of fifteen. I will need a few months and a good jeweler. The same device will dismiss any talk of Wei Wuxian being Jiang Fengmian’s byblow. The true explanation that he simply wanted to honor his friend’s memory will then be more plausible to the general public.”

Yu Ziyuan smiles, wide, like a wolf. It is an unsettling expression. “So, what do you plan to do about Wen Ruohan?”

Caiyi

Mo Xuanyu wakes up slowly, to darkness, and without thinking summons a little light to his fingers. 

His mother isn’t crying over him this time, which is a refreshing change. She is asleep, next to him, in a large bed in a room he has never seen before in his life. 

He feels… he breathes, reaches for his core, is shocked both that it feels quite stable, and that it is full but not overflowing. And unspeakably strong. The bag worked? He looks around the room. There’s a letter, addressed to him, in Wen Qing's elegant cursive. 

A-Yu,

You are in Caiyi, in an inn. Your mother has been told that you may disappear if you wake before I return. My hand was on the talisman on your chest when it activated, and it pulled both of us back this time. It took me three days to wake; as soon as I could, I dumped most of my excess into a number of teleportation talismans and came to find you. 

You were dying. You will not use this talisman again if I have to cast a forgetting curse on you myself to stop you from making another one. Don’t think I won’t. I know how. It will kill you next time, and it was only luck that you took me with you this time. This round is your last trip. We get what we get.

The adjustment bought you enough time for me to get to you. If I hadn’t known I needed to go, you would have gone into complete qi deviation the moment you woke up, if you woke up at all. With the amount of energy I had to pull out of you, it could have demolished the village.

I am gathering resources, and will be back in Caiyi in about half a day if things go as planned. It might be tomorrow. The room is paid for, for a week, with board, so your mother will be fine. I will bring her with me to Cloud Recesses when I return if you are already gone. If you go anywhere, go to Cloud Recesses. It might take a bit for them to let you in, but if you use the time to meditate like a good little Lan, just as Lan Wangji taught you, they’ll let you in eventually, and if they don’t, they’ll let you in with me as soon as I’m back. 

Lan Qiren is aware that I have traveled in time but he does not know your name. If you tell him that you are Wen Qing’s friend, he will understand. He knows very little.

Don’t try to teleport—I already used your excess qi to fill the talismans I’m using. Eat food before you go, you’re too tiny, and inedia won’t help you grow, even if it will keep you alive.

Your Qing-jie

He is crying before the end of the letter, but dashes his tears and finishes it, then looks around. There is a covered bowl of rice, meat, and vegetables with a heating talisman on it, and a pot of cooled tea. 

He eats, he drinks, he looks at his clothing, looks around the room for a talisman… yes, over the door. The usual tripe. He scribbles a cleaning talisman, and his clothes shudder and brighten. He feels his hair, and winces. 

There’s not as much hair as there will be, or even as there was a year later. Some of his hair comes away in his hand, and he frowns, then looks around the room for his mother’s bag… yes. He combs his hair out carefully, from end to root, gingerly, and he’s deeply disturbed by how much comes away on the comb. High fever? He directs a little spiritual energy to his scalp. It won’t make hair magically appear, but maybe the remainder won’t fall out? 

There’s enough to make a top knot. 

He creeps out of the room, looking for another talisman. When he finds one, he scribbles a quick don’t-look-here in his own blood, then sways a little. He sighs, activates the talisman, spends a moment circulating the spiritual energy through his whole body, and then takes the letter and walks out of the inn. 

The Gate

It’s a long walk from Caiyi to the base of the path to Cloud Recesses through lighted streets, and the sun is rising as he reaches the path. It’s an even longer climb. He misses his unnamed sword, his named sword, and being carried by extremely strong cultivators. 

It is still early for most people but practically mid-morning for the Lan when he reaches the gate. He deactivates the don’t-look-here about three feet away from the guard, startling the man half to death.

“No admittance without invitation,” the man says. He seems vaguely familiar, in the way that all Lan are vaguely familiar.

“Please, I must speak to Lan Qiren,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“I can’t leave my post, and there is no admittance without invitation,” the guard repeats. “Where are your parents? Why are you alone? How did you just appear like that?”

“My mother is in Caiyi. I’ve come to ask to be a disciple. And I don’t know, I just walked up here. Maybe you weren’t paying good attention?”

“Go back to your mother, child,” the guard says. “Have her send a petition.”

Mo Xuanyu sighs, walks a few steps away, and sits in a perfect Lan meditation pose, and waits.

After a while, he says, “Could I speak to Zewu-Jun? It’s important.”

The guard says, “No admittance without invitation.”

“Please, ask him, he’s a very kind man. I’m sure he’d want to talk to me,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“I can’t leave my post,” the man says.

“Mn,” Mo Xuanyu says, completely noncommittally, and returns to his meditation. 

Almost a shichen later, another Lan disciple comes down and looks at him quizzically.

“He doesn’t have an invitation, and he says his mother is in Caiyi,” the guard says. 

“He’s just tiny,” the new man says. “You should tell Xiansheng.”

“He’ll be in class,” the guard says. “I don’t want to interrupt him.”

“Well, tell someone when you go up. Lan Wangji has the authority.”

The first guard leaves, and the new disciple asks, “Why are you here?” He’s significantly friendlier than the last one.

“I need to talk to Lan Wangji or Zewu-Jun or Lan-xiansheng,” Mo Xuanyu answers. “It’s very important.”

The disciple blinks. “Why?”

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “Gossip is forbidden.”

The disciple opens his mouth, shuts it, and then returns to his guard stance, saying, “Hopefully Su She will get someone for us.”

Mo Xuanyu’s whole body twitches. He’s seen people change dramatically over time, but Su Minshan had transformed in the ten years between when Mo Xuanyu learned from him and, well, now. 

“Please,” he says. “Please don’t make me rely on Su She.”

The disciple gives him a funny but not unsympathetic look. “If no one has come by the time I’m done, I’ll let Lan Wangji know. Better than bothering Zongzhu or Xiansheng. Do you need something to eat? I might have an apple…”

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head, and continues his meditation. He does accept water later.

“You are very kind, gongzi,” he says.

“You deserve to get your chance with Lan Wangji,” the disciple says. “You’ve kept your posture perfectly.”

“I’ve had practice,” Mo Xuanyu says, letting his qi pull the ache out of his knees. This kind of meditation is torturous without a golden core. With? It’s boring, but easy.

Another disciple comes down at the shift change, and Mo Xuanyu stays in position as the kind disciple says, “I’m going to get someone to talk to the kid. He’s alright, though. No trouble. Been here since half chen shi, though. Just like that.”

The new disciple looks curious, but takes up his position anyway.

Two incense sticks later, Lan Wangji comes down, and it is all Mo Xuanyu can do not to run into his arms. But he maintains his position, as he hears the gate guard confirm that he’s been meditating for about three shichen, and has been asking for Lan Qiren, Lan-zongzhu, and Lan Wangji specifically.

Lan Wangji considers Mo Xuanyu for a long moment, and his face softens, though Mo Xuanyu is aware that few people would realize it. It is no accident that he is kneeling here, waiting in this way.

Lan Wangji comes over and says, “You wished to speak to me?”

Mo Xuanyu nods.

“You have been kneeling a long time.”

Mo Xuanyu nods again.

“Your legs are probably numb and sore. If you will permit, I will carry you up to Cloud Recesses so that you may have a meal and we may talk. Your mother is in Caiyi?”

He thinks about letting Lan Wangji know that his knees are alright, then realizes he’d be talking himself out of a ride, and nods again.

“Once we’ve talked, I will return you to her. You are too young to be without your mother, and she is probably very worried.”

“She will be coming up here soon,” Mo Xuanyu says quietly. “She was told I would come.”

“How old are you?” Lan Wangji asks, bending over and lifting him easily, holding him around his legs with one arm, upright. Lan Wangji is just sixteen, but still very tall, especially given that Mo Xuanyu was never large as a child to begin with.

“I’m seven,” Mo Xuanyu answers, and wraps an arm around Lan Wangji’s neck.

Lan Wangji nods at the gate guard, says, “I will take responsibility,” and starts the trek up the path.

“I did come to talk to you,” Mo Xuanyu says, extending his senses to feel that no-one is in eavesdropping distance. “But I also will need to talk to Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang, Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren, the Jiang siblings, Jin Zixuan, and Luo Qingyang. Oh, and Wen Ning and Wen Qing, but she’s not back yet.”

Lan Wangji nearly drops him, but Mo Xuanyu clings like a monkey, reflexively.

“Speak to me, first,” Lan Wangji says. “I will judge whether we need most of the clan heirs and their lead disciples, a clan leader, and the head teacher of the Gusu Lan. I am having difficulty imagining what a seven-year-old might need from them.”

“Check my meridians,” Mo Xuanyu says, extending a wrist.

Lan Wangji shifts Mo Xuanyu so that he is basically sitting on Lan Wangji’s left forearm, and takes his proffered wrist with his right hand. 

“What—“ Lan Wangji says, with a gasp. “How?”

“Would you believe time travel?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“I—I would not believe it possible for a child so small to have a core so strong had I not felt it myself. I was considered precocious to develop a core at eight-and-a-half. My core now is not this well-developed.”

“Would it make more sense if I told you it was Wei Wuxian’s design, years in the future, that allowed me to travel in time?”

He can feel a slight full-body shiver from Lan Wangji, and schools his response.

Lan Wangji says, “That is somehow more plausible. But why would you risk traveling in time?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you knew it could save everyone you cared about? You still don’t know why that disciple died, a puppet, the day Wei Wuxian came and was turned away at the gate.”

“Stay silent until I can set you down,” Lan Wangji says. 

“Mn,” Mo Xuanyu says, and leans against his laoshi, resting his head against his shoulder.

They pass the first buildings and Mo Xuanyu picks his head up and whispers, “Where are you taking me?”

“To the Hanshi,” Lan Wangji says. “To speak to my brother.”

“The Jingshi is easier to ward against eavesdroppers,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“I… You… You may be correct, but I must involve my brother.”

They see Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren on the steps of the Hanshi first.

Lan Qiren glances over, sees Lan Wangji carrying a small child, and nearly falls over before rushing down to meet them, a bemused Lan Xichen trailing behind. 

Mo Xuanyu looks up to see a look of utter confusion plastered on his Xichen-ge’s face at his brother carrying a child. Mo Xuanyu puts his head down on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, hiding his face, but peeking at Lan Xichen. He knows exactly what he’s doing, but it’s fun to mess with both of them. Xian-gege would be so proud.

“Who is this?” Lan Xichen asks. Lan Qiren appears to be nearly vibrating.

“Please come discuss it with me in the Jingshi, Xiongzhang, Shufu,” Lan Wangji says, his tone extremely formal. “This matter requires privacy.”

Lan Xichen tips his head and then nods. Lan Qiren looks completely torn between speech and silence, but walks with them.

They start walking, and hear a familiar voice saying, “I have to go. See you later Jiang Cheng!” And then, “Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji looks over at Lan Xichen, and says, “I normally supervise his punishment now.”

Lan Qiren opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

Mo Xuanyu sits up on Lan Wangji’s arm and looks over. 

Wei Wuxian skids to a halt in front of them and says, “Is that a baby? Are you holding an actual child, Lan Zhan?”

“Hi, Xian-gege,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You should come talk with us.”

“Absolutely not,” Lan Qiren says.

“Xian-ge— How do you know my name, kid? Who are you?” Wei Wuxian says, his demeanor shifting a little, the head disciple authority sliding over him without a moment’s transition.

“The Jingshi,” Lan Wangji says. “Are you sure?” he asks Mo Xuanyu. 

“About Xian-gege? Of course,” Mo Xuanyu says. He looks at Lan Qiren. “It’s necessary.”

Lan Qiren meets his eyes, scowls, then shakes his head. “If you’re certain.”

“Did Wei Wuxian put you up to this?” Lan Wangji asks Mo Xuanyu sharply.

“You felt my wrist,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Could anyone fake that?”

“What’s going on?” Wei Wuxian says.

“Please accompany us, Wei-gongzi,” Lan Xichen says smoothly. “I would like an answer as well.”

Wei Wuxian nods, and says, “Of course, Zewu-Jun.”

As they walk, Lan Xichen catches a disciple and says that he and Lan Qiren will be unavailable for a time.

“If my mother comes, they need to let her in, Xichen-ge,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“What is her name, child?” Lan Xichen asks, smiling at the -ge.

“Mo Xiuying,” he says.

“And yours?” Lan Xichen asks.

“In the Jingshi,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Lan Wangji sets Mo Xuanyu down on the porch of the Jingshi, opens the door, and gestures everyone inside. 

Mo Xuanyu makes a beeline to Lan Wangji’s desk, pulls out a talisman paper, wets cinnabar ink, and quickly sketches one of the strongest privacy wards that he, Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen, and Lan Qiren had ever designed. Then he dries it, lets Wei Wuxian get a good look at it, and activates it.

He turns, bows deeply, and says, “This one is Mo Yu, courtesy Xuanyu. I am the son of Mo Xiuying, Er-Furen of Mo Village, and Jin Guangshan. I do not want Jin Guangshan to know that I am here, and do not wish it broadcast that I am his son.”

He turns to Lan Qiren. “As you guessed, I am Wen Qing’s friend.”

They stare at him for a long moment.

“How old are you, kid?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“It depends on how you count it,” Mo Xuanyu says. “My body is seven.”

“How else would one count it?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Well, my spiritual cognition is… thirty, I think. Ish.”

They blink at him. He looks over at Lan Wangji. “This will go more smoothly, Laoshi, if I have writing materials. I’m sorry about using the talisman supplies without asking, but I didn’t want to say anything until we couldn’t be overheard, especially with Su She living in Cloud Recesses right now.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says. “Use what you need.”

“What's wrong with Su Minshan?” Lan Xichen asks.

“He left the child kneeling and did not come to get someone in authority,” Lan Wangji says. “Mo Xuanyu had to kneel for a shichen and a half longer than necessary because Su She did not think it important enough to interrupt Shufu, you, or me, despite the fact that the child had no food or drink with him. Lan Heiying gave him water.”

Mo Xuanyu turns from where he’s gathering supplies and says, “Oh, if that was all, I wouldn’t care. I’ll explain in time.”

The supplies are where the supplies will always be. He opens the correct drawer for the inexpensive notepaper and pulls out a small stack, but discovers he’s too short for the isinglass and lampblack. “Could someone lift me? I need something from that shelf,” he says.

To the others’ shock, Lan Qiren steps forward and lifts the boy easily to reach the supplies.

“Wangji, how does he know your desk so well?” Lan Xichen asks.

“I don’t know,” Lan Wangji says. 

“Here, Xiansheng, please put these on the table over there,” Mo Xuanyu says, nodding at the low meal table, handing things to Lan Qiren unceremoniously. 

He picks up more talisman supplies, an inkstone, the third-best brush, and several sheets of higher quality paper. 

Carrying them over, he organizes everything exactly the way Lan Wangji would, and says, “I need to talk while I write, because there’s a lot to say and a lot to write.”

“Where exactly did you find him?” Wei Wuxian whispers loudly to Lan Wangji. 

“He knelt for three shichen at the front gate,” Lan Wangji says. 

Mo Xuanyu says. “It was fine, my core is strong. I could have walked, but it’s kind of fun getting carried. One of the perks of being little again.”

“I can send for food,” Lan Xichen says, hiding a small smile.

“Actually,” Mo Xuanyu says, beginning to draw several lines on one of the note-grade papers, “could someone ask Yanli-jie to make soup? I haven’t had her soup in so long. And I’d like to see her.”

“What the fuck,” Wei Wuxian says, and then slaps both hands over his mouth, mumbling, “Sorry, Lao… Lan-xiansheng.”

“I find that an… understandable sentiment,” Lan Qiren says, looking distracted.

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “I traveled in time. This is my fifth use of the time travel talisman you and I designed, Xian-gege. I’m going to lay it all out for you. You should pay attention, because there are a lot of lives depending on it.”

“His core is stronger than mine,” Lan Wangji says. “Possibly much stronger.”

The other men stare at him, and then at Mo Xuanyu, who sighs, sets a weight on the corner of the paper, holds out his other wrist, and continues drawing and notating. 

Wei Wuxian steps forward, takes his wrist, sends a vibrant little pulse of energy into it, and yelps when Mo Xuanyu makes it bounce back doubled.

“Xian-gege, I just woke up from a coma this morning. Don’t put that much into it. You need a lighter touch,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Lan Xichen steps forward and checks, much more gently, and gasps quietly. “He’s on the verge… What on earth?”

Lan Qiren takes the boy’s wrist and says, “She wasn’t wrong… how did you survive?”

“It turns out that time travel requires a certain number of things and one of those things ends up pouring a lot of refined qi and structure into the body on transmigration. When mine landed in my body the first time, my core got stronger. The second and third time, also. The fourth time, it nearly killed me. This is my last chance. And the only reason it didn’t kill me is that Wen Qing saved my life.”

“How did she know? Wasn’t she here?” Lan Xichen asks. “She was found unconscious several days ago, and woke up yesterday. She’s recovering in her quarters.”

“Ah,” Lan Qiren starts, and then seems at a loss to continue.

Mo Xuanyu laughs. “She’s not, I promise. She came back with a ton of extra energy, dumped it into a bunch of teleportation talismans to stop herself from qi deviating, and went to find me. She stabilized me, transported me and my mother to Caiyi, and went to run an errand. I think they’ll be back soon, probably. Someone should tell Wen Ning she’s alright. He’ll worry, and he’s too nice to worry.”

“She did tell me, briefly,” Lan Qiren says. “But she disappeared so quickly. Obviously to save young Xuanyu’s life.”

“What are you drawing?” Wei Wuxian asks Mo Xuanyu, looking down curiously.

“Timelines,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It will be easier this way. Last time I wore my hand out writing letters to everyone. This is just… better.” He pauses in his writing and says, “Lan-xiansheng, have you taught them the obscured talisman technique?”

“I know it,” Lan Xichen says.

“It is usually kept to the inner clan,” Lan Qiren says. 

“Well, Xian-gege better learn it, it will save a lot of trouble later. Could you teach him and Laosh—Lan Wangji?” 

“Why do you call me Laoshi?” Lan Wangji asks. 

“Because when I lived with you and Xian-gege and your son in the Burial Mounds, you were my laoshi, always. Last jump you wanted me to call you Baba, and Xian-gege wanted me to call him Xian-die, but it didn’t last long enough to become natural.”

“My son?” Lan Wangji says, stunned.

“Your son,” Mo Xuanyu says, gesturing with his free hand between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian and continuing to annotate his timelines. 

“Our son?” Wei Wuxian splutters. “Like, together?”

“I mean, Lan-xiansheng insisted you formalize your marriage before you adopted him, but yes, both of you adopted him.”

“I what?” Lan Qiren says, his voice rising.

“Lan Zhan doesn’t even like me!” Wei Wuxian exclaims.

“He does,” Mo Xuanyu and Lan Xichen say simultaneously. Mo Xuanyu grins up at Lan Xichen.

Wei Wuxian turns scarlet, and Lan Wangji’s ears go bright red.

“But marriage?” Wei Wuxian asks, when he regains control of his mouth.

“You told me that I should tell you that you should stop teasing him to get his attention, because you already have it,” Mo Xuanyu says. “That you wished you’d known while you were here that he would end up being the love of your life, because you’ve been being a real asshole to him and he deserves better. You said he deserves all good things, and since he made it clear that one of his favorite things is you, he should have what he wants.”

Mo Xuanyu turns to Lan Wangji. “Xian-gege doesn’t think he deserves nice things because he’s been told all his life that he has more than he deserves, even though he always gave far more than he was given.” 

He looks at Lan Qiren. “And he makes trouble because he’s bored and is not getting enough challenges.”

Then he says to Lan Wangji, “Also, he has no idea that he likes men, but I’m absolutely certain that he’s never been into anyone the way he’s into you, once it dawns on him that it’s possible.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, completely blindsided.

Lan Qiren strokes his beard.

“When did they marry?” Lan Xichen asks, his tone mild and amused.

“It’s a matter of some debate, and depends on which timeline. In the original timeline, they were punished for drinking together, months from now, though Xian-gege insisted that it wasn’t Laoshi’s fault, because Xian-gege came up with an extremely sketchy control talisman and made Laoshi drink. Laoshi insisted that he was responsible for his actions, even to me. I know the control talisman works on regular people, but I haven’t tested to see how strong you have to be to break it, because I don’t like the idea of it. I don’t think Xian-gege ever used it again, because he was so disturbed by the consequences.”

“The beating?” Lan Xichen asks. 

“No, he’s taken plenty of those. It was that Laoshi cannot hold his liquor at all. Xian-gege told me years from now to explain very carefully to his past self that while some of the Lan rules are absolute nonsense, the one about drinking is there because many of the main Lan clan simply do not tolerate alcohol at all. Blackout, amnesia, and hijinks that might be entertaining with someone small enough to stop, but once Laoshi gets even a swallow of alcohol in him, he’s out of control. And he’s not small enough to stop.”

“And that somehow led to their marriage?” Lan Qiren asks, interested in spite of himself.

“Ah, no, they went to the Cold Pond to heal. And Lan Yi pulled them down into the Cold Pond Cave, where the white guqin started attacking Xian-gege because he wasn’t Lan. And Laoshi, well, the fastest thing to do was…” Mo Xuanyu mimes taking a forehead ribbon off and wrapping it around the wrists. 

Lan Xichen slaps a hand over his own mouth, eyes twinkling. 

Lan Qiren puts his head in his hands.

“If that had been all, it might have been brushed off. Well, probably not because Laoshi’s already pretty much gone on him.”

Lan Wangji actually makes a little wheezing noise, but Mo Xuanyu ignores him. Wei Wuxian is staring at Lan Wangji with his mouth agape. 

“Anyway, immediately after that, Lan Yi appeared, and they bowed together to her, while bound at the wrist, and she approved the match. Then she gave them the Yin iron, and sent them on a really pointless quest. We can fix that. We did, last time, mostly. Anyway, the Yin iron was part of a whole series of events which resulted in a war starting with the burning of the Cloud Recesses and the destruction of Lotus Pier by the Qishan Wen.”

They are trying to speak, but not succeeding. 

“One of the reasons,” he says, “that I spent so long in a loop I knew was going to be undone was to spend time with all of you developing better wards and tools to prevent the invasion. And Wen Qing… She knows everything. And she wants to help.”

“The Wen burnt down Cloud Recesses?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Do you know the difference between the Dafan Wen and the Qishan Wen?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“Aren’t Dafan Wen an offshoot, mostly medical?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“They split off from Qishan before Wen Mao’s time,” Lan Qiren says. “One of Wen Ruochen’s grandsons married into the Dafan Wen— Oh! that’s Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s father. It was quite the scandal. No consanguinity issues, at that remove, but that he would leave Qishan… His father, Wen Ruohan’s older brother, was killed in a hunting accident some time after that. Wen Ruohan wouldn’t have inherited if they hadn’t both been out of the way.” He strokes his beard. “I always wondered at her parents’ deaths… but Wen Zemin could have cared less for fighting for the leadership of Qishan.”

Mo Xuanyu nods. “The Dafan Wen don’t fight at all. Most of them aren’t even cultivators. Wen Qing is the best doctor of her generation. Maybe one of the best doctors alive, and certainly the foremost expert on the golden core and healing resentful energy.”

“She’s twenty-one,” Lan Xichen says.

“She’s twenty-one, but she has seen my memories, and one of the things I remember doing is performing Empathy with her ghost. She died at twenty-five the first time, trying to protect Wei Wuxian from Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao. She had, at that point, performed a successful golden core transplant, and spent years keeping her family alive in the middle of the Burial Mounds. The second time I shared her memories, she was alive, she was thirty at the time, and lived to thirty-one and had been in the Burial Mounds for seven years. It was easier the second time around, because I helped Xian-gege and Laoshi to purify most of the Burial Mounds. We would have finished it, too, if my father wasn’t such an ass.”

Lan Xichen sighs.

“You know about what he did to my brother,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Jin Guangyao… Meng Yao?” Lan Xichen asks.

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “Do you want me to tell you or do you want to see for yourself?”

“See for myself…Oh.” Lan Xichen considers that.

“Wait, but, marriage?” Wei Wuxian says, leaning forward.

“Right, anyway, the first time, you weren’t together or anything, and I had to piece this together long after the fact. You died, Xian-gege. About… five years from now. But the important thing here is that before you died, you took in a little orphan boy, well, his whole family, too, Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s family. And that little boy was the only survivor of Jin Guangshan and a whole lot of horrible stuff.”

He takes a breath. “And I knew from talking to Xichen-ge later that after the war, Laoshi adopted a son, but I knew Laoshi only by reputation, by his title, Hanguang-Jun, and his son was going to be the next clan heir. It took talking to some ghosts to learn that Hanguang-Jun’s son was the same boy you’d adopted in the Burial Mounds.” 

“Okay, so I had a kid, and then I died and Lan Zhan adopted the kid?” Wei Wuxian says.

“A-Yuan. You always adore him on sight, every time.”

“Marriage?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Right. So the Cold Pond thing, you never told Xian-gege that it is the first but most important step in a Lan wedding. You were willing to let it go and not treat it as such because you did not believe he could feel the same way for you as you did for him. And when I went back in time, and I explained it to Xian-gege, he got all blushy and squeaky and Yanli-jie asked him if he’d have wanted to marry Laoshi if he’d known that was what was happening, and he said, ‘Who wouldn’t want to marry Lan Zhan,’ and well, it wasn't long before you two poured tea for Xichen-ge and Jiang-zongzhu.”

“Jiang-shushu?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Ah, no, Jiang Wanyin,” Mo Xuanyu says. “But that was only the first time you got married. I lived with you two and the Wen for years, except when I was traveling to the clans to improve their defenses. That was when I learned the most, and we designed a lot of neat tools, and figured out that you and I are related on your mother’s side, you and Jiang Wanyin are distant cousins somehow, and A-Yuan, the boy you adopted together, is actually Laoshi’s biao-di. Xichen-ge’s, too. His mother was a much younger sister of Lan-furen.”

A sharp inhale from both of the Lan brothers and Lan Qiren. 

“His mother died?” Lan Wangji asks.

“In childbirth. Her husband died not long after she got pregnant, so he’s probably already dead. His big sister died in the camps. A-Yuan’s birthday is just a double handful of days earlier than yours, so he’s not born yet. His mother’s alive, in Dafan village. She’s… twenty-five? I think Popo said? But I don’t know if whatever caused her death in childbirth can be fixed.”

“The second time we were married?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Ah, it was just a day or two after the Cold Pond Cave ribbon tying. I jumped back to that point on purpose, sent you all a lot of letters, and when Lan-xiansheng learned of you tying the ribbon and that Xian-gege was interested in marrying you, he sat you down, had you pour tea and sent you off, and you poured tea for your Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen and that was that. You seemed very happy about it, and you both adored A-Yuan and A-Juan on sight—he was very round and fat and full of smiles, and she was very giggly and full of questions—but then things just happened so fast and I ended up here.”

“I think…” Lan Xichen says, and then gathers himself and starts again. “I think you need to show us everything.”

“Agreed,” Lan Qiren says. 

Wei Wuxian is staring over at Lan Wangji with a strange look on his face. Lan Wangji’s face is completely blank. 

“Yeah, I think they need a bit to get their minds around it,” Mo Xuanyu says. Then he touches his forehead and holds out his fingers to Lan Xichen, who bends forward and accepts the small fingers on his brow. 

Mo Xuanyu does not show Lan Xichen everything. He carefully shows him a selection of memories of his own, from Jiang Yanli, from Wen Qing, from the ghosts of the Dafan Wen, of the fall of the clans, the core transplant, the Sunshot campaign and the treatment of Wei Wuxian and the Dafan Wen, and the disastrous end. 

He lets Lan Xichen see Qin Su and Jin Rusong, their meals at Lanling Jin, Lan Xichen’s staunch support… and then shows him how Jin Guangyao treated a scared teenager, what Su Minshan taught him, what Su Minshan knew… Nie Mingjue’s death, Lan Xichen’s pride in his nephew, how Lan Wangji never came to Lanling at all. The death of Jin Guangshan as told by the rumor mill. Learning of Qin Su’s parentage. He lets Lan Xichen feel being thrown down the steps of Jinlintai, and his own sword being driven into his gut. 

Mo Xuanyu says aloud, “You have done none of that. You didn’t know, and now you do.”

“A-Yu,” Lan Xichen says, his voice choked. 

“Ah, Xichen-ge, take heart. We have time, we can make it better.”

“Please,” Lan Xichen says, and holds out his arms.

“Ah, I’m so little now, though,” Mo Xuanyu says, but he gets up and lets Lan Xichen hug him, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Wei Wuxian says.

Lan Xichen shudders. “You should be afraid. What is coming, if we cannot stop it…”

Then he pales. “Wei-gongzi, I feel as though I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t, yet,” Mo Xuanyu says. 

“But the way he was treated…”

“Will not be a problem now. Pull him from classes. He can work with me. Tell people he’s tutoring me. They don’t need to know it will be the other way around.”

“You would teach him…” Lan Xichen mimes a dizi.

“We may need it. My core is strong and I know the methods, but my body is still seven. And is it fair to withhold knowledge he himself developed? When I knew him, he never once used it to further his power or position beyond the bare minimum necessary to take care of the people he felt responsible for.”

“And Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Laoshi needs to know everything. All of it.”

“You would bring the others in, as you did before?”

“I regret this last time that I did not get to work with you or Xiansheng directly,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Do you have the strength to show me, as well?” Lan Qiren asks.

“Check yourself,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Lan Qiren touches his wrist, considering, and then nods, kneeling down next to Mo Xuanyu and Lan Xichen.

Mo Xuanyu turns in Lan Xichen’s arms and says, “Hold me up for this?” as he allows Lan Qiren to make a connection.

When they are done, Lan Qiren opens his eyes and regards Mo Xuanyu for a long moment, his face bleak and eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“You have been trying for a very long time to right wrongs that were never yours to fix,” Lan Qiren finally says. “Please forgive this old man.”

“You’re forty-two, not old,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You’ve been raising children you never planned on since you were twenty-two years old. You led a clan that you did not expect to inherit, and stepped aside for Xichen-ge without complaint when he was ready to lead. I think we would both rather bury our noses in old scrolls than any of the things we’ve been doing, but they are, nevertheless, rewarding, are they not?”

“And you are what, thirty?” Lan Qiren says. “You have spent decades struggling against overwhelming odds. The only saving grace of you being so young, now, is that perhaps we can allow you some time for a childhood, after we address what should never have required your intervention in the first place.”

“You will allow me to teach Wei Wuxian? You will allow them to marry?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“I… I need… You will teach him. But you will teach me as well. I will not ask children to do something I am unwilling to do myself. You cannot go back again, and we cannot rely on just one person. This way, I can be sure that the path is, in fact, righteous.”

“A compromise. You will teach your classes. I will teach Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Each evening, we will discuss together what we have been studying. Your health… you have suffered from many spiritual wounds in my experience, and I would not compound that with resentful energy.”

“You would teach Wangji?” Lan Qiren says, frowning. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are watching them with rapt attention.

“He is the key to keeping Wei Wuxian safe,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He will not be manipulating resentful energy, but protecting Wei Wuxian, both from external threats and from his own—“ Mo Xuanyu hesitates, searching for the word he wants.

“From his own self-destructive and self-sacrificial tendencies,” Lan Qiren suggests. 

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian says.

“Yes, exactly,” Mo Xuanyu agrees. 

“I suppose it’s pointless to try to force them to wait to marry until they are twenty,” Lan Qiren says.

“Well, if we can save Tang Mingxi, there won’t be such a rush,” Mo Xuanyu says. “A-Juan and A-Yuan were really the determining factor last time. Well, and the Cold Pond Cave.”

Lan Qiren shoots Wei Wuxian a look. “He’s going to be insufferable about this,” Lan Qiren grumbles.

Wei Wuxian tries to look as innocent as possible and fails.

“Completely,” Mo Xuanyu says, laughing. “You might as well let them marry. It’s not as if they can get each other pregnant, probably.”

“Probably?” Lan Qiren asks, looking vaguely alarmed. 

Lan Wangji looks thoughtful and Wei Wuxian looks utterly mortified.

“Xian-gege joked about it often enough.” Mo Xuanyu turns and says to Wei Wuxian, “Last time you told me moments after we met that you’d birthed me with your own body.”

Wei Wuxian snickers, hand to his mouth.

Mo Xuanyu continues, “I’m afraid that Laoshi’s self-restraint where Xian-gege is concerned is… how did you put it, Xiansheng? Lacking. But we never even told anyone they were married in one loop until they’d been so for five years. It might be best to arrange a quiet, quick ceremony now, enough to save face if it comes up later, and announce it as a political marriage after the war. If it becomes known that Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang have become closer allies now, it may create a situation where Wen Ruohan pushes ahead with his plans before we’re ready.”

“You know where all… five… pieces of the Yin iron are,” Lan Qiren says.

“Yes, but the moment we take action on any of them, it will set things in motion. My ideal would be for us to prepare extensively, and take the three out in quick succession, then the sword.”

“We cannot reforge that… thing,” Lan Qiren says.

“I need to know more,” Wei Wuxian says.

“You’ll get your turn,” Mo Xuanyu snaps. Then he says to Lan Qiren, “We may not have to, if Wen Qing is successful.”

“She should take part in our evening discussions,” Lan Qiren says. “She is sensible.”

There is a knock on the door.

There is a knock on the door.

“Can they hear us from there if we can hear that?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“No,” Mo Xuanyu says, as Lan Wangji gets up to go answer the door. 

Lan Xichen lets go of Mo Xuanyu, and looks apologetic.

Mo Xuanyu smiles brightly and says, “Do you know what the best thing about being seven is?”

“I cannot imagine,” Wei Wuxian says.

“I’m little enough that people can pick me up, and old enough in my head to not find it a terrible offense to my dignity,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Hugs are great at this size, and no one expects me to do the hard stuff.”

“I… did not have that,” Wei Wuxian says. 

“I didn’t either,” Lan Xichen responds.

Lan Qiren’s brow furrows. 

“I am bringing people in,” Lan Wangji announces. “Wen Qing is here. And Yu-furen. And Jin-furen. And Mo… er-furen.”

Mo Xuanyu is on his feet and running for the door before the sentence is over. He flings himself into Wen Qing’s arms, sobbing, and she picks him up, letting his legs wrap around her waist, as she carries him in.

Art by @melomelany_art, all rights reserved.

She murmurs, “I know, baobei. We’re going to fix it. It wasn’t your fault. You did so well.”

This makes him sob harder. 

He hears, “Wei Wuxian,” from the woman he has never met, but heard much about, and hears the answering “Yu-furen,” in a tone he’s never once heard from Wei Wuxian in all the years he’s known him.

His back stiffens, and Wen Qing whispers, “It’s okay. She won’t hurt him. She knows I have needles.”

“A-Yu?” he hears from his mother, and he turns to find her close. He reaches over and gives her a hug. “A-Yu, you were gone when I woke up.”

“I know, Mama,” he says. “But it’s important. Qing-jie told you?”

“She said you had a rare sickness, but that it might leave you with a powerful golden core if you healed.”

He brings power to his fingertips, and the little sparkling butterflies the children had loved so much dance in the air. His mother gasps. “Your father will be so proud!”

“And you will never, ever tell him,” Mo Xuanyu says. “Not ever. You know he’s a bad man.”

She sighs. “I know. And I won’t.” Her eyes shift to Wen Qing for a moment, and then back to Mo Xuanyu. 

Wen Qing sets Mo Xuanyu down and says to Mo Xiuying. “Your A-Yu is going to move in lofty circles. I’m going to suggest that you move here permanently, Mo Xiuying, so that you can be close to your son while he gets the education he deserves. Lan-zongzhu? Xiansheng?”

Lan Xichen nods, absently. “There’s room in the guest quarters on the women’s side.”

“I’m not a cultivator,” Mo Xiuying says. “I’m just a mother.”

“You will find useful work, if you like. I do not tolerate cruelty to our guests here,” Lan Xichen says, casting a brief, oblique look at Wei Wuxian. “We would take care of you here for A-Yu’s sake even if you did nothing at all.”

“You can tell your sister you have a good place here. She will be pleased,” Wen Qing says. 

“Can we get down to business?” Yu Ziyuan asks. Next to her, Duan Ai is staring at Mo Xuanyu with a complicated expression.

Mo Xuanyu looks over at Wei Wuxian, and then goes over to him, and without so much as a by-your-leave, sits on his lap, then leans forward to pull the writing materials in front of himself. He strongly suspects Wei Wuxian is going to need him as a screen later, especially with Yu-furen present.

“So here are the timelines I’ve already experienced,” Mo Xuanyu says, notating events as he speaks. He can feel Wei Wuxian leaning over his shoulder to look.

He explains how the end of the lectures the following summer will kick off the chain of coming events, what happened the first time, how they subverted it. When he gets to the attack on Cloud Recesses, he looks to Wen Qing.

She says, “Unfortunately, the Cloud Recesses elders balked at placing wards that made use of resentful energy. What I did not have a chance to tell you was that Wen Xu’s cultivators were able to break through because the ward was incomplete. Many had fallen when I heard your mind scream.”

“Scream?” he asked.

“When you woke up, your panic… all I knew was that something was terribly wrong. I… killed Wen Xu. And watched Wei Wuxian take a sword for Lan Wangji… I tried to help, but Xichen had already fallen… I used the Nie teleport array and ran from the gate to you, and you were dying—I was trying to feed you qi but the talisman activated. And here we are.”

Mo Xuanyu stares at her in horror. “It went so wrong, so quickly?”

She nods. “We were too rushed.”

He takes a deep breath. “Right, so we need to place the wards without the elders being aware of their full function, or we need to explain the resentful energy cultivation enough that they’re on board with it by next year.” 

Lan Xichen comes as close as anyone has ever seen to rolling his eyes and says, “So, then, we’ll place the wards without the elders knowing.”

“Agreed,” Lan Qiren says, and they stare at him.

“Xiongzhang? Shufu?” Lan Wangji asks.

“Can you show him?” Lan Xichen asks Mo Xuanyu.

“Not yet,” Wen Qing says, walking over and checking Mo Xuanyu’s meridians. “He needs food, rest, and a bath, not in that order, before he does any more cultivation work. He nearly died two days ago.”

“I feel fine, Qing-jie.”

“Obey your doctor,” Yu Ziyuan snaps at him. 

“I will, but let me explain the rest of the timeline first,” Mo Xuanyu says.

Wen Qing nods, and they kneel around the table to look at the papers in front of him.

He breaks it down into the pre-Sunshot campaign, the war, the immediate aftermath of the war, and the various things that need to be prevented following that.

Jin-furen goes pale repeatedly as they are talking, leaning against Yu Ziyuan, who pats her friend’s knee comfortingly. She keeps sending glances at Mo Xiuying, who isn’t looking at her at all.

When he gets to the point where he’s going to have to tell them about Qin Su, he says, “The next thing I’m going to tell you is going to be awful, and it absolutely must not leave these rooms.” And he lays it out, the story of Qin Su and Jin Guangyao, of little Rusong, of the rape of Qin-furen.

“There’s an easy way to short circuit all of that without any of it becoming public,” Wen Qing says. 

“Oh?” Duan Ai, Jin-furen, says. 

“Lan Xichen must marry in order to produce heirs,” Wen Qing says. “He was very fond of Qin Su in at least one of his lives. How much better would it be for both of them if they married each other? It is a good political match for her, better than A-Yu saw in his lifetime, where Lan Xichen remained unmarried, and no concern of consanguinity. There is no need for a great love match in every marriage, and I know he cannot marry where his heart inclines him, not if his brother is also marrying a man.”

Wei Wuxian sits bolt upright. Mo Xuanyu doesn’t fall off his knees but it’s a close thing.

Yu Ziyuan sighs. “Why do you think I’m here, boy? I’m going to arrange the match.”

He blinks at her. “You would let me?”

“I’ll kill you if you mess this up,” she says, with less heat than he’s ever heard from her.

Wen Qing covers her mouth. 

“I… what… Lan Zhan? Are you okay with this?” Wei Wuxian asks, an arm going around Mo Xuanyu’s waist belatedly, as if to stabilize the boy, but Mo Xuanyu strongly suspects it’s more to stabilize Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji bows to him, formally. “I feel I owe you an apology, as I have misjudged your character. I already knew that you are as rare a match for me in cultivation ability as I might ever hope to find, but now I understand why I am drawn to you, and would be honored to court you.”

Lan Qiren has his head back in his hands, looking resigned.

Mo Xuanyu is not the least bit surprised to feel Wei Wuxian’s forehead against the back of his head, as if he could hide behind Mo Xuanyu's thin top knot. Wei Wuxian makes a high pitched whine. 

Mo Xuanyu sighs and says, “That means that yes, he would be honored for you to court him. He’s just terrible at accepting compliments. If you really want to fluster him, tell him he’s pretty.”

“Betrayal,” Wei Wuxian mutters. 

“It would be dishonest to imply otherwise. Wei Ying is stunning,” Lan Wangji says, as if commenting on the blueness of sky or greenness of bamboo leaves in the spring.

Yu Ziyuan looks actually amused by this. “So. Lan Xichen. Would you be willing to consider protecting Qin Su in this way?”

“I… I would be willing to consider courting her, if she is also willing,” Lan Xichen says. “I saw…”

“I showed him my memories already,” Mo Xuanyu says. “He’s seen her there. She’s very sweet and kind, and deserved better.”

“She did,” Lan Xichen agrees. And then his voice shakes a little as he says, “We all do.”

“And should I speak to you or to Lan Qiren regarding these two?” Yu Ziyuan asks.

Lan Qiren sighs, straightens his posture, and says calmly, “I will not object. We may negotiate the particulars tomorrow, if you are not averse.”

While they wait for food, Mo Xuanyu says, “The only problem that I see with not making it public that Jin Guangshan raped Qin Su’s mother is that it was our leverage to get him out of the chief cultivator’s chair. But I wouldn’t want to put my sister in that spot if I could avoid it.”

“You, girl, how old were you when he started seeing you?” Duan Ai says to Mo Xiuying.

She glances wildly at Mo Xuanyu.

“Mama, I know about sex, and I know he’s a bad man, and it’s not… I won’t think less of you. I already know most of it,” Mo Xuanyu says.

She looks away, and says “I… I was fourteen. I… I thought I was pregnant then, but he had me drink a tea. I didn’t tell him with A-Yu, because the tea… He stopped coming around when I was twenty. A-Yu came when I was sixteen.”

“Fourteen?” Yu Ziyuan snarls. 

Duan Ai looks up at the ceiling and seems to be counting under her breath.

“In Meishan Yu, such a man would have his balls cut off and his back whipped,” Yu Ziyuan says. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Duan Ai says. “Did he provide for your son?” 

“He brought us trinkets, and gave my sister money at first. I think it was so she wouldn’t be mad about it…”

“Did he force you, Mo-er-furen?” Lan Xichen asks.

She looks down at her hands and shakes her head. “He brought me flowers and told me I was the prettiest…” she glances up at Duan Ai. “Sorry.”

“He says that to all his women. Did he give you a pearl button?” Duan Ai asks.

Mo Xiuying looks miserable as she nods. “He stopped coming when I started asking if he was going to help with A-Yu’s education, because I knew my boy could be a cultivator, and he’s so clever.”

“Of course he did,” Duan Ai says. 

“We can definitely prove that he’s my father, and my mother’s birth is a matter of record,” Mo Xuanyu says. “I can prove he’s my father without his cooperation, with Da-ge’s help.”

“My Zixuan?” Duan Ai asks.

“Mn. He was always very kind to me. And a good husband and father. He’d already come around, even in the very short time we had, last time. He just needs the right kind of encouragement.”

“You said we should let him break the engagement,” Yu Ziyuan says to Wen Qing.

“It all depends on how many people we’re going to tell up front,” she says. “I’m inclined to fewer. Mo Xuanyu obviously prefers more.”

“The problem last time wasn’t how many people we told, it was that Xichen’s behavior had changed markedly, and we just didn’t have enough time to get the wards in place,” Mo Xuanyu says. “We have more time now. We had days to prepare, then. Now? We have most of a year.”

“Well, that gives us time to do things properly,” says Lan Xichen. “I have not seen Meng Yao since he returned to Qinghe. I had been thinking of taking him some books. Perhaps this time, I will not start down that path, and there will be nothing to change.”

Food comes, simple fare, and they eat in silence. 

Mo Xiuying finishes her food and says, “A-Yu, you're so quiet now.”

“I lived with Laoshi for long enough to know how to behave with Lans at mealtime,” he says to her. 

“You… you aren’t really my little boy anymore, are you?” she says softly.

He looks at her and then says with a small shake of his head, “Not really. Parts of me feel little, still. It’s harder to control my emotions. But my mind has lived for thirty years.”

“You want to live here?” she asks.

He nods. “I… I know that my cousin is tiny right now, but he… he does not grow up to be a kind person. If we stayed there… Your sister will resent my connection to Jin Guangshan, and when it occurs to her that me being older than him and a potential cultivator is a threat to his status, and she realizes that my father is not coming back, she will not be kind. And when my father is dead and I am disgraced from Jinlintai, you will die of the shame of it. I cannot walk that path again.”

“You will not be at the mercy of Lanling Jin again,” Lan Xichen says. “We will make a place for you here, as long as you wish it.”

“The Dafan Wen will always be a home for you, wherever our home is,” Wen Qing says.

“Did I help you?” his mother asks. “You’ve come back several times. Have I helped you?”

He looks away. “I didn’t ask you for help.”

“You ran away?” she asks.

“You lived at Lotus Pier, the first time. The second, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji told you where I was. I never forgot you. I made sure you were looked after.”

“I don’t know who I am if I’m not your mother,” she says.

“You’re always my mother,” Mo Xuanyu says. “This doesn’t change that.”

“But you don’t need me,” she says. “Last week I had a little boy who needed me. And now… you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re young, yet,” Duan Ai says. “You have time to learn how to do other things.”

“There are many opportunities here to learn,” Lan Xichen puts in. “Most of the children here live in the student dormitories from about Mo Xuanyu’s age, anyway. We do not expect children to define their parents. For which I am most grateful. If you enjoy small children, we have a nursery you could help in. If you would like to learn a craft, or scholarly arts, something can be arranged.”

“But I cannot choose to simply continue to mother my A-Yu,” Mo Xiuying says bitterly. 

“Your sister started treating you like a servant within a year of now, anyway, when it became clear my father was not coming back,” Mo Xuanyu says tiredly. “These options are better, Mama. Please understand. There is so much to do. I cannot spend time right now being a child.”

“That’s not true,” Wen Qing says. “You… you absolutely should spend some time being a child. And you need mothering. You need people to remind you to eat, to play, to do things other than frantically try to save the entire cultivation world. You’re not the only one who can do these things now. Yes, you need to teach Wei Wuxian what he needs to know. Yes, there are things only you can do. But there are many things you cannot do, and many things that I can do that you could never have done at all. Tonight, you need to bathe and sleep. We have so much time, compared to last time, and last time we very nearly succeeded.”

“I believe quarters have already been readied for Jin-furen and Yu-furen,” Lan Xichen says. “I will ask for someone to set aside permanent quarters for Mo-er-furen. A-Yu, do you prefer the dormitory, or to stay with your mother right now?”

“Can… can I stay with Qing-jie?” Mo Xuanyu asks, his voice very small.

“Yes,” she says. “In fact, I must insist. His physical state—he still requires some monitoring. We have room for his mother, as well, if I can send A-Ning to the dormitories. Which I will, if I can trust he will not be harassed.”

“Nie Huaisang has no roommate,” Lan Wangji says. 

“Oh, they always got along very well!” Mo Xuanyu says. “And we will need to explain things to A-Sang tomorrow, anyway.”

“A-Sang?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyebrow raised.

“Mo Xuanyu grew very close to Huaisang,” Lan Xichen says. 

“He will be my zhiji,” Mo Xuanyu says. “And he is key to bringing his brother on board. He helped extensively in every lifetime.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Wei Wuxian asks. “His father… Wen Ruohan…”

“I will talk to Nie Huaisang before we send my brother over,” Wen Qing says. “There are things… I will be able to persuade him quickly.” She turns to Qiren, “He’s filled you in?”

“He has. May I say—“ Lan Qiren begins, but she’s already putting up a hand.

“Please, don’t. I know—I know what it’s like to see what you’ve just seen. I know there are things you wish you could apologize for or do differently that you haven’t done yet. And you won’t do them, so it’s not necessary.”

“I know that Xichen and I are of one mind when I say that your family is welcome here, and that we will do all we can for them,” Lan Qiren says. “It never should have…”

“Wen Ruochen should have smothered his son in the cradle, and yet here we are anyway,” Wen Qing says. “I will do what needs to be done. You will keep my brother and the Dafan Wen safe. You will not harm Wei Wuxian. You will protect A-Yu. We will, hopefully, enjoy the fruits of our efforts in a long peace.”

“Jin Guangshan?” Lan Qiren asks.

Wen Qing smiles, broadly. It is not a kind smile. “Jin Guangshan is not your concern, nor mine, much.”

Lan Qiren raises his eyebrows. 

“Those he has wronged will have a chance to address those wrongs,” Wen Qing says. “Or so I am assured.” She looks over at Yu-furen and Jin-furen, who both nod curtly.

Lan Qiren’s face flashes to disgust and then returns to its normal implacability. “I have much to consider,” he says. “Xuanyu, please join us after dinner tomorrow. Wen-daifu, you as well.” And with that, they disperse for the evening.

Wen Qing tells Mo Xuanyu later that night that it took three sentences for Nie Huaisang to go from guarded to enthusiastic about Wen Ning, as she helps Mo Xiuying settle them into the Wen guest house. 

He lets them pamper him, a bit. Wen Qing spends a long time studying his meridians before he falls asleep, until he gently flicks her on the forehead and says, “You’re still recovering, too, Qing-jie.”

“Hush, you,” she says. “I feel great.”

“How close were you to qi deviation, yourself?” he asks.

“I started dumping off qi into a talisman almost immediately,” she says. “If I hadn’t known…”

“How many people do you think have figured the technique out?” he asks.

“I think most of them tend to go back so many times that they qi deviate and pull themselves out of history completely,” she says. “I think… I think it is no longer an option for you, if you want to live. If you'd been stronger at the start, you'd have died before you ever got to the Burial Mounds. I don't believe I could jump again safely even once more.”

He blanches and nods. “We’ll get it right this time?”

“We will get it close enough,” she says. “Now you have two choices. Sleep, or I make you sleep.”

“Only if you will, too,” he says. 

He’s already drifting off when he overhears his mother asking Wen Qing, “Is he really all right now?” and the soft, reassuring hum of Wen Qing’s response.

Mama

He wakes up midmorning to find a warm breakfast and a warm bath ready and his mother sitting, frowning over a basic text.

When she sees that he’s awake, she asks, “Are you feeling okay, baobei?”

He feels his own energy and his body feels stable, whole. He nods. 

“Qing-mei said you were doing much better,” Mo Xiuying says. “I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he says. “You understand why everything was so urgent, though?”

She nods, still looking worried. “Are you going to show me the future?”

He shakes his head. “You… It would make you sad, and all I need from you is for you to be safe, and here.”

“You left me… how many times?”

“When I was fourteen,” he says. “You encouraged me to go when my father came to take me to Jinlintai. It was… not what I expected. When I traveled… When I was ten, I ran away, and then Jiang-zongzhu, Jiang Wanyin, took you in at Lotus Pier so you wouldn’t be abused. When I was eight… well, I wasn’t eight very long. But I made sure that you were told I was protected.”

“If Qing-mei hadn’t come…”

“I would have died,” he says. “If I hadn’t died, I would have left immediately. I didn’t know how to bring you with me. No one ever listened to me in Mo Village.” He gets out of bed, and says, “I’m sorry, Mama, but it’s the truth.”

“In all your futures?” she asks. “I never listened?”

“You told my father that I had a golden core,” he says. “He tried to destroy my friends to get me back.”

She puts a hand over her mouth. 

“I… I didn’t know how to tell you,” he says.

Tears stream down Mo Xiuying’s cheeks. “Qing-mei… she told me that… she said he’s terrible, and she’s right. I always… it was flattering, that such a powerful man wanted me. But if someone like that tried to seduce you at that age? I’d want to kill them.”

“Fortunately,” he says, “I’m not interested in that sort of thing.”

“No?” she asks. “How old were you?”

“I’ve been as old as twenty-four,” he says. “And I knew about sex, and I just… I think if I’d really wanted it, Huaisang might have, eventually, but he didn’t really want it either enough for either of us to…”

“Is that… your zhiji?” she asks.

“Mn,” he says. “He’s the clan heir for Nie Mingjue. We… he always took care of me, when he could, when I’d let him. He…”

He looks away. “You were so angry with me about it, when I left Lanling.”

“About?”

“They told you I was a pervert, a cutsleeve.”

“But you aren’t interested…”

“What I was interested in was occasionally pretending to be a girl,” he says. “Sometimes I hid that way. It feels like the world is more gentle, somehow…”

She snorts. “It wasn’t for me. If I’d been a boy, things might have been very different.”

“You might have inherited,” Mo Xuanyu says. “All I ever was as a boy, before, was a threat. Anyway, A-Sang and I both enjoy beautiful things, and sometimes I was his beautiful… I was his meimei, and he would buy me clothes, and do my hair, and it was nice. It felt special. It wasn’t about sex, just… it felt more like me than all the crises and pain and fear.”

“I… I think I understand,” Mo Xiuying says. “I felt that, sometimes, with your father. And if my body was the price I had to pay…”

He frowns at her. “Mama, A-Sang never made me feel like there was a price. There shouldn’t have been a price. You know that, right? If I hadn’t wanted to dress up, he still would have been my zhiji, my friend.”

“I always felt like it was okay, because there was you,” she whispers.

“There’s more for you, here,” he says. “You can learn. You can find ways of being that don’t rely on the whims of awful, awful men. I am grateful that you wanted me, but please, I cannot define you. Only you can define you.”

“Can I still be proud of you, my A-Yu?” she asks, small and quiet.

“You can,” he says, “but it’s not why I do what I do.”

“Why, then? Why go through such pain, such danger, such suffering, over and over?” she asks.

“Because it needs to be done, and because no one else possibly could have,” he says. Then he smiles. “Mama, the time travel didn’t give me everything, you know?”

She looks at him curiously.

“I learned a secret, while I was at Jinlintai.” 

“Oh?”

“I’m really good at parts of cultivation that most people don’t understand at all,” he says. “Not even the most powerful cultivators. They don’t understand how things work for their most basic tools. And I do. You can be proud of that. Xian-gege invented, well, would have invented, a whole new form of cultivation, but even he didn’t, in that future, understand all the things I do. But I understand what he did.”

“I think I can be proud of that,” she says.

“You can, but you absolutely cannot ever brag about it,” he says. “Not to anyone. Not even once. You may talk to Qing-jie about it. That’s it.”

There is a knock on the door. Mo Xuanyu scampers over to see who it is, and finds Wen Qing there, with Wen Ning, who is carrying a platter.

“You need to eat,” she says, and walks into the room. “And you need to talk to Wen Ning.” She looks over at Mo Xiuying. “Ying-jie, how is he?”

“I think he’s doing very well,” Mo Xiuying says. 

“You should eat,” Wen Qing says, and gestures at the table, where Wen Ning has spread out a better lunch than the Lan would have eaten. 

Wen Ning is shy at first, but quickly warms to Mo Xuanyu’s easy affection. Wen Qing explains, briefly, the history, and explains that Mo Xuanyu has, in those other lives, been quite close to them, and might be able to help him.

“Only if you want to,” Mo Xuanyu says. “It is not necessary for us to change you in order for us to be friends with you. But it’s a piece of your spiritual cognition, and we might be able to get it back, if you want it, later.”

“I… I wouldn’t mind trying,” Wen Ning says. “Things are hard, a lot. Maybe it would be easier that way?”

“Things are hard either way,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You’re you, either way. But you should know the possibility is there.”

Wen Ning gives a short, sharp nod. 

“Is it nice to know that you’re going to make a lot of friends here?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

Wen Ning smiles. “Wei-gongzi is already very kind. It’s nice here.”

Mo Xuanyu grins. “Was Nie Huaisang a good roommate?”

“He was… talkative,” Wen Ning says, then hastily adds, “but in a good way! I like it when people… when they don’t ask me too many questions.”

“Wen Ning is good at secrets,” Wen Qing says. 

“You know what it means to spend your life hiding from people,” Mo Xuanyu says to them both. “We’ve always understood each other, in that.”

When he’s done with his meal, Wen Qing says, “Alright. Wei Wuxian was extremely persistent about wanting to talk to you. Lan Wangji just kept looking at me.”

“You went to class?” Mo Xuanyu asked, surprised.

“Lan Xichen was teaching. I was curious,” she said. 

“And?”

“And he spent the class talking about ethics, responsibility, and looking beyond rumor for the underlying facts.”

“Well, that’s useful,” Mo Xuanyu says.

“Jin Zixun didn’t think so,” she says dryly.

He sighs. “That prick is so far up Jin Guangshan’s ass that I’m surprised he can breathe.”

“Mo Yu!” his mother says sharply.

“I know you’re older than you look, but it’s too strange to hear someone so small talk that way,” Wen Ning says reproachfully.

Mo Xuanyu sighs. “Alright, Ning-gege. Sorry. Sorry, Mama.”

“You’re not wrong, though,” Wen Qing says. “I don’t know what we should do about him, but we can’t…”

“Well, we know he’s curse-able,” Mo Xuanyu mutters.

“Don’t you dare,” Wen Qing says. 

“Just a little one?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“No,” Wen Qing says. And then she gets the strangest look on her face.

“What?” 

“I… how much can you make someone forget with that forgetting curse?” she asks.

“I… if you want to keep it small, it has to be very well defined, precise, and limited in scope,” he says. “Otherwise it’s going to leave a visible mark.”

“Hm,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate. 

“I mean, the problem with Zixun is that he’s an asshole,” he says. “If he can’t remember a grudge he’ll make one up.”

“No, you’re right,” she says. “And really, the problem with him is Jin Guangshan, and that’s…”

“Don’t tell me,” he says. 

“No, I wasn’t going to,” she says. “A-Ning, please escort him to the Jingshi.”

“You’re not coming?” Mo Xuanyu asks.

“I have matters to discuss with Jin-furen and Yu-furen,” she says. “Ying-jie, would you like to join us?”

Walking over with Wen Ning feels odd at first, but then Wen Ning asks, “Does it feel weird? Being small?”

Mo Xuanyu laughs. “You know, it’s funny. Because people keep picking me up, because I’m little. And it would have made me furious before, or scared. But there’s something comforting about it now. There was a very long time when there was no one who cared to bother.”

He realizes that Wen Ning has stopped, suddenly, and looks back. 

Wen Ning regards him very seriously, and then opens his arms, saying, “If… if you want.”

It takes two steps, a jump, and a monkey cling, and Wen Ning carries him the rest of the way to the Jingshi.

When they knock on the Jingshi door, it is a moment before Lan Wangji answers it, looking completely flustered and a little disheveled.

“Sorry, Jie said—“ Wen Ning starts, but Mo Xuanyu just rolls his eyes.

“Don’t bother. They’re shameless. Xian-gege, are you decent?” he calls out.

“Am I ever?” comes the reply.

“He is fully clothed,” Lan Wangji says primly. “He has remained fully clothed.”

“Remind me to ask Xiansheng if he feels strongly about you having a chaperone,” Mo Xuanyu says dryly. 

“Don’t you dare, kid,” Wei Wuxian calls out. 

“Your forehead ribbon is crooked,” Mo Xuanyu says to Lan Wangji as he walks past him into the Jingshi, just to see his laoshi try to look at his own forehead. 

Wei Wuxian is in some disarray, but it’s hard to say if it’s different from his usual disarray, except for— 

“Wei-gongzi, you might want to, er… I could give you a salve…” Wen Ning says awkwardly.

“Salve?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“The noble Second Jade appears to have given you a hickey,” Mo Xuanyu says. “A little spiritual energy to the neck might keep Yu Ziyuan and Lan Qiren from murdering the both of you the next time they see you.”

“We just wanted to see if we were really that compatible,” Wei Wuxian mutters. “I thought I liked girls.”

Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes. “Of course you did. Can we start?”

“Were you compatible?” Wen Ning asks.

“Yes,” Mo Xuanyu, Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian answer in unison.

They look at Mo Xuanyu. “What? I helped design your improved privacy wards and silencing spells, to spare your poor son’s ears. And Popo’s. And Wen Qing. And Wen Ning. And Jiang Wanyin, and literally anyone who has had to share space with the two of you for any length of time. You would never stop telling us how perfect the other was. Neither of you. Oh, and there you go…”

They’re looking at each other now, and Mo Xuanyu says, “Look, Wen Ning, it might take them a while to come back to earth and actually talk about the salvation of their clans and whatnot, maybe we should go.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says, tearing his eyes away from Lan Wangji. “No, I need to know what you know.”

“Him first,” Mo Xuanyu says, nodding at Lan Wangji. “I need him to know what I know before you do, because I may need him to help me help you after.”

Lan Wangji takes three steps forward and goes to his knees before Mo Xuanyu, bowing his head slightly. 

“You two talk amongst yourselves,” Mo Xuanyu says to Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian. And then he presses his fingers to his forehead, carefully touches Lan Wangji’s brow below the ribbon, and makes the connection.

It surprises Mo Xuanyu how talkative Lan Wangji is in his head. He runs through memories, but Lan Wangji is constantly asking questions that lead to other memories. He shows Lan Wangji his own first life, Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao and Su Minshan. He shows him Nie Huaisang and the Dafan Wen and their memories, showing the memories in the order they happened to him. It is fast, rapid-fire, almost like opening books for Lan Wangji to skim. 

It is easier this way, to observe when I know no one else is observing me, Lan Wangji tells him silently. Wen Qing’s memories of that rainy night at Qiongqi Dao are hard and sharp, and Lan Wangji opens his eyes for a moment to look at Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning, the former laughing and talking and waving his hands, the latter ducking his head shyly and smiling. 

They have always been like older and younger brothers, Mo Xuanyu says. They are both like older brothers to me.

Why did I not do more?

You didn’t think you could, and you didn’t think he wanted you, Mo Xuanyu tells him, and then shows him the Burial Mounds as Wen Qing remembered, Wei Wuxian pale and wan.

Why was he like that? He’s so strong… 

Oh, right. Mo Xuanyu goes back, showing Wen Qing’s memories of the aftermath of Lotus Pier from her perspective—Wei Wuxian begging her, pleading for desecration, longing to save his brother’s life by any means. This will not happen, Mo Xuanyu says. I would give my own core before I’d let him donate his, but Wen Qing will not do it again. She would commit murder to avoid it. 

It takes some more jumping around, but they move through it, through Mo Xuanyu’s attempts to fix things, his view of Lan Wangji’s relationship with Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan and the Wens. 

He shows the work they did together, mostly the results of it, some of the process, over years. He can feel Lan Wangji becoming overwhelmed, and ends with the memory of them meeting baby A-Yuan, little A-Juan, of his own view of Lan Wangji playing for attentive spirits with the baby asleep on his back, of Wei Wuxian looking up at him with complete adoration in his eyes. 

Mo Xuanyu opens his eyes, and finds Lan Wangji weeping. Wei Wuxian is crouched next to them, looking deeply concerned, and Mo Xuanyu sways a little to discover Wen Ning behind him. Wen Ning scoops him up without hesitation, and brings him over to the table where a meal has been laid out.

“A-Jie would be mad if I didn’t make you eat and rest before you do any… any more, A-Yu,” Wen Ning says. 

Mo Xuanyu sits, and looks over to see Lan Wangji with his arms wrapped tight around Wei Wuxian, clinging.