Yangyang the Fifth

When aristocratic cultivators set out on a Night Hunt, they usually travel with a full retinue and considerable ceremony. But Lan Wangji [he/him] has always preferred solitary excursions, and this arm was so strange and sinister that the slightest carelessness could bring harm to others. So he brought no family disciples or other sect students, only Wei Wuxian [he/him] — and he kept an even tighter watch on him than before.

Wei Wuxian had originally planned to find a chance to slip away once they descended the mountain, but every escape attempt along the way ended the same: Lan Wangji seized him by the back of his collar with one hand and hauled him back. He switched tactics, clinging and sticking to Lan Wangji as much as possible, especially at night, when he unfailingly crawled into Lan Wangji's bed, hoping Lan Wangji would be so disgusted he’d quickly cleave him away with a sword. Yet no matter how wildly Wei Wuxian flailed, Lan Wangji remained utterly unmoved. Whenever Wei Wuxian burrowed into his blankets, Lan Wangji struck him with a light palm that stiffened his entire body, then tucked him into a separate set of bedding and arranged him in a scrupulously proper sleeping posture until dawn. Wei Wuxian suffered through this several times, waking each morning with aching back and sore legs, wailing about his misery, and couldn't help thinking, 'He's grown up, and become far duller than before. You used to be able to tease him and he'd at least get flustered, and it was rather amusing. But now not only is he unshakable under all eight winds, he's even learned to counterattack. This is utterly unreasonable!'

Guided by the left hand, the two traveled north-westward. Each day they played Rest together once, to temporarily soothe its fury and murderous intent. When they reached the vicinity of Qinghe, the arm, which had maintained its pointing posture for so long, suddenly changed: it withdrew its index finger, and the five fingers curled into a fist.

This signified that whatever the hand was pointing toward was now nearby.

They walked and inquired their way to a small city in Qinghe. In the broad daylight, the streets bustled with people in lively commotion. Wei Wuxian trailed behind Lan Wangji with a lazy scuffing gait when a sharp, cloying scent of rouge and cosmetics suddenly assaulted his nose.

Having grown accustomed to the light sandalwood on Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian was stung by the smell and blurted, 'What are you selling? That scent.'

The fragrance came from a street-corner healer swathed in a Daoist robe, his face written with swindle and deceit. He carried a box on his back, peddling small trinkets to passersby. Seeing someone ask, he replied cheerfully, 'Everything! Fine rouge and powder at fair prices. Care to have a look, gongzi?'

Wei Wuxian: 'All right, let’s look.'

The healer asked, 'A gift for the lady at home?'

Wei Wuxian grinned. 'For myself.'

‘…’ The healer's grin froze. He thought, 'He's playing me for a fool!'

Before he could erupt, another young man doubled back and said, expressionless, 'If you're not buying, don't make a scene.'

This man was handsome to the extreme, elegant to the extreme, his white robes and forehead ribbon surpassing snow, his irises pale, a long sword hanging at his waist. The healer was merely a fake Daoist, half-knowledgeable about the clans of The Mystic Gate. He recognized the family emblem of Gusu Lan and dared not act out. Hurriedly he cinched up his box and fled forward. Wei Wuxian called, 'What are you running for? I really was going to buy!'

Lan Wangji said, 'Do you have money to buy?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'If I have no money, just give me some.' As he spoke he thrust a hand into Lan Wangji's robes. He hadn't expected to find anything, but after a few rummages, he actually fished out a delicate, compact, and weighty money pouch.

This utterly did not seem like something Lan Wangji would carry, but over these past days the unthinkable things on Lan Wangji's person had numbered more than one or two. No longer fazed, Wei Wuxian took the pouch and walked off. Just as expected, Lan Wangji let him take it, let him leave, without half a protest. If Wei Wuxian didn't have at least some understanding of Lan Wangji's character and his scrupulous propriety, and if Hanguang-jun’s reputation weren't so frighteningly impeccable, he might almost have suspected that between Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu there had been some entangled, unresolved muddle.

Otherwise, how could he tolerate him going this far?!

After walking some distance, Wei Wuxian unintentionally glanced back. Lan Wangji had been left far behind and was still standing where he’d been, watching him from that spot.

Wei Wuxian’s footsteps slowed quite of their own accord.

For some unknown reason, he felt a faint stirring in his heart that perhaps he shouldn't be walking this quickly, shouldn't be leaving Lan Wangji cast behind him like that.

Just then, someone beside him shouted, “Yiling Patriarch! Five coppers a sheet, three sheets for ten!”

Wei Wuxian: 'Who?!'

He hurried to see who was selling him, and it turned out to be that selfsame street-corner healer and fake Daoist. He had packed away his low-grade rouge and cosmetics and taken out a stack of fierce, ogre-faced prints worthy of door gods, chattering nonstop, 'Five coppers a sheet, three sheets for ten — at this price you can't go wrong, you can't be cheated! Three's best: one to paste on your main door, one in your main hall, and the last at your bedhead. With ferocious energy and dense evil aura, use evil to quell evil, use poison to fight poison — guaranteed no demon or monster will dare come near!'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Brags blown sky-high! If it's really that potent, you'd sell each for five coppers?!'

The healer said, 'You again? Buy or leave. If you're willing to pay fifty coppers apiece for these, I'd be more than happy.'

Wei Wuxian flipped through the stack of 'Yiling Patriarch Demon-Quelling Portraits' and absolutely could not accept that the man in the picture — blue-faced, with tusks, bulging eyes, and knotted veins — was meant to be himself.

He reasoned vehemently, 'Wei Wuxian is a famously good-looking man. What have you drawn here?! Even if you've never seen the real man, don't scribble nonsense and lead people astray.'

The healer was about to retort when Wei Wuxian suddenly sensed a rush of wind at his back and ducked aside.

He dodged it, but the street healer was sent flying, crashing into a neighbor's pinwheel stall. People helped and picked up, all scrambling in a flurry. The healer had been about to curse, but upon seeing his kicker was a young lord flashing gold all over — clearly wealthy and noble — his momentum shrank by half. Then he noticed that embroidered on the other's chest was a Sparks Amidst Snow white peony, and his spirit was utterly spent. Still unwilling to accept an unprovoked kick, he said feebly, 'Why did you kick me?'

That young lord was none other than Jin Ling. He folded his arms and said coldly, 'Kick you? Anyone who dares utter the name “Wei Wuxian” in front of me — if I don't kill them they should kneel down grateful for my mercy. And yet here you are shrieking like a ghost in the open street. Courting death!'

Wei Wuxian had neither expected Jin Ling to appear here, nor that his conduct would be this domineering. He thought to himself, “This child's temperament — where on earth did it come from? Huge temper, heavy virulence, arrogant and self-indulgent, no one in his eyes. He's picked up every last vice of his uncle and father, and not a half of his mother's virtues. If I don't give him a rap or two, sooner or later he'll suffer a great loss.” Seeing that Jin Ling seemed not to have vented his anger enough and was advancing two steps toward the man on the ground, he interjected, 'Jin Ling!'

The healer dared not make a sound, his gaze brimming with a thousand gratitudes. Jin Ling indeed turned toward Wei Wuxian and said contemptuously, 'You haven't fled yet? Fine.'

Wei Wuxian smiled: 'Aiyō, I really don't know who was pinned to the ground and couldn’t get up last time — who was it, who was it?'

Jin Ling gave a short scoff and let out two brief whistles. Wei Wuxian didn't grasp the meaning at first, but moments later, from far off, there came a harsh, chuffing sound of a beast's heavy panting.

He turned his head and saw a half-human-height, black-maned spirit hound rounding the street corner and bolting straight for him. The long street erupted with screams, each nearer than the last, each louder: 'A vicious dog is biting people!'

Wei Wuxian’s expression changed drastically and he fled as fast as his legs could carry him.

It shames him to say, but the Yiling Patriarch, so-called invincible, actually turns craven at the sight of a dog. There's no helping it — when he was young and hadn't yet been taken home by Jiang Fengmian, he grew wild outdoors, often snatching food from under the jaws of fierce hounds. After several bites and chases, he suffered deeply, and gradually became deathly terrified of dogs both large and small. For this Jiang Cheng [he/him] never let him hear the end of it. This story is not only humiliating, but few would believe it, so it’s not widely known. Wei Wuxian was nearly scattered out of his wits. Suddenly his eyes caught sight of a tall, willow-straight white silhouette, and he yelled with a torn heart and ripped lungs, 'Lan Zhan, save me!'

Jin Ling chased to this spot and, seeing Lan Wangji, went pale with shock: 'This madman is with him again?!' Lan Wangji was stern by nature, never smiling, and even many peers in The Mystic Gate felt dread in his presence, let alone these juniors. His power to intimidate surpassed even Lan Qiren of yesteryear, no less. The dog, strictly trained and no ordinary breed, was sharp in spirit; it seemed to know it couldn't run wild before this man, whimpered a few throaty howls, tucked its tail, and shrank behind Jin Ling instead.

This black-maned spirit hound was a rare breed gifted to Jin Ling by Jin Guangyao. Any ordinary person would hardly dare slight a gift from Lianfang-zun, but Lan Wangji was no ordinary person. He didn't care who the giver was or whose dog it had been set loose by — he would punish it as it deserved, leniency withheld. Caught by him unleashing his dog to chase a man through the streets, Jin Ling's heart went cold, and he thought in secret, 'I'm dead. He'll definitely slaughter this spirit hound I trained with so much trouble, and then give me a harsh dressing-down!'

But to his surprise, Wei Wuxian plunged straight beneath Lan Wangji’s arm, ducked behind him, and wished so desperately he could climb up Lan Wangji's tall, straight figure like a pole and scramble into the heavens. Lan Wangji, the moment Wei Wuxian wrapped both arms around him, seemed to go rigid all over. Seizing this chance, Jin Ling blew two more short whistles and, taking his black-maned spirit hound, fled in defeat.

On the ground beside them, the healer struggled to his feet, still trembling: 'The world is declining, the morals are slipping. These young masters of aristocratic families nowadays — intolerable! Simply intolerable!'

Hearing the barking recede into the distance, Wei Wuxian came out from behind Lan Wangji. Placidly, with his hands behind his back, he agreed: “That's right. The world is declining, and men’s hearts are no longer as they once were.”

The healer now looked at him as if he were his saviour and repeatedly chimed agreement; to show his gratitude, he tossed that stack of 'Yiling Patriarch Demon-Quelling Portraits' into Wei Wuxian's hands as if discarding a hot potato: 'Brother, many thanks for just now! Take these as thanks. You can sell them off at a discount — three coppers a sheet, that’s still three hundred in total.'

Lan Wangji glanced at the blue-faced, tusk-toothed brawny man in the picture and offered no comment. Wei Wuxian, seeing his own price plummet lower and lower, didn't know whether to laugh or cry: 'This is your thank-you gift? If you truly want to thank me, paint him better looking! … Stop right there, don’t run off. I’d like to inquire: while you’ve been doing business around here, have you heard any strange tales, or seen any uncanny sights?'

The healer said, “Strange tales? You’ve asked the right person. I’ve long been stationed here and people call me the Qinghe Baixiaosheng. What sort of strange tales?”

Wei Wuxian said, 'For instance: demons causing havoc, bizarre dismemberment cases, massacres of entire families.'

The healer said, 'Nothing of the sort here, but if you go five or six li forward, there’s a mountain ridge called Wayfarer’s Ridge. I advise you not to go.'

Wei Wuxian asked, 'And why is that?'

The healer said, 'This Wayfarer’s Ridge has another, vulgar name — “Man-Eating Ridge.” What do you think I mean by that?'