Morning Dew

This time, Wei Wuxian didn't close his eyes all night, kept them open, and stubbornly held on until just before the mao hour the next day, when the wave of soreness and numbness passed from his body and his limbs could move again. Casually, unhurriedly, he slipped off his upper garment under the blanket and tossed it under the bed.

Then, he pulled down Lan Wangji's sash and forcefully stripped off a section of his upper garment. Originally he'd intended to take his clothes off too, but halfway through, when he saw The Brand beneath Lan Wangji's collarbone, Wei Wuxian paused slightly, his hand stopping of its own accord, and he also recalled the Discipline Whip Scar on his back. Realizing this was improper, he wanted to immediately pull Lan Wangji's clothes back up. That moment's delay, Lan Wangji seemed to feel the cool air, stirred lightly, furrowed his brows, and slowly opened his eyes.

The moment he opened them, he rolled off the bed.

One truly can't blame the graceful Hanguang-jun for being so startled that he lost all grace. What man, waking early in the morning after a hangover, seeing another man lying naked beside him, his own upper garment partially stripped off, the two of them flesh pressed against flesh, squeezed tightly together in the same bed and under the same quilt, would have the leisure to be graceful?

Wei Wuxian half-covered his chest with the blanket, revealing only his smooth, bare shoulder. Lan Wangji: 'You...'

Wei Wuxian hummed with a nasal tone: 'Mmm?'

Lan Wangji said: 'Last night, I...'

Wei Wuxian winked his left eye at him, propped his chin on one hand, and smiled eerily: 'You were so wild last night, Hanguang-jun.'

'...'

Wei Wuxian said: 'Don't you remember anything from last night?'

It seemed he truly didn't remember; Lan Wangji's face had gone snow-white.

It was good he didn't remember. Otherwise, if Lan Wangji recalled that he'd secretly slipped out at midnight to summon Wen Ning and started questioning him, Wei Wuxian would be in a bind whether he lied or told the truth.

After so many times where his teasing backfired and he ended up lifting a rock to smash his own foot, Wei Wuxian had finally found a bit of his old swagger again and clawed back some ground. Though he wanted to press his advantage, he still intended to trick Lan Wangji into drinking again later, and couldn't let him develop a shadow of wariness. Knowing when to stop, Wei Wuxian threw open the blanket to show him his own neat trousers and still-unremoved boots: 'What a chaste and upright man! Hanguang-jun, I only took off our clothes as a joke. Your pure and unsullied body remains intact, untainted, please rest assured!'

Lan Wangji stiffened where he was, and before he could answer, the sound of shattering porcelain came from the center of the room.

This sound was not unfamiliar; it was the second time they'd heard it. Again, the Evil-Sealing Qiankun Pouch pressed down on the table had grown agitated, overturning teapot and teacups, even more ferociously this time, all three at once. Last night, one of them was dead drunk and the other was thoroughly tormented, so naturally they'd tossed the matter of playing together to the back of their minds. Wei Wuxian, anxious that the overly startled Lan Wangji might impetuously stab him dead on the bed, hurriedly said: 'Business first, come on, let's get down to business.'

He grabbed a garment and threw it on, rolled off the bed, and reached a hand toward the just-risen Lan Wangji. His original intent was to help him up, but the gesture looked as if he was about to tear his clothes off. Lan Wangji, still not recovered, stepped back and stumbled over something underfoot, swaying. He looked down: it was Bichen sword, which had lain on the ground all night.

By then, the pouch's cord had already been loosened, and a ghastly pale hand was halfway crawling out of the small opening. Wei Wuxian reached into Lan Wangji's half-open bosom, fished around, and pulled out a flute, saying: 'Hanguang-jun, don't be afraid. I'm not going to do anything to you; it's just that you snatched my flute last night, so I have to take it back.' After speaking, he even considerately helped pull his clothes back up to his shoulders and tied his sash properly.

Lan Wangji gave him a complicated look, as if he very much wanted to press for the details of his drunkenness the night before, but he was accustomed to putting business first. Suppressing it forcefully, he composed his expression and brought out his seven-stringed guqin. The three Evil-Sealing Qiankun Pouches sealed a left arm, a pair of legs, and a torso—these three parts already made up the greater half of a body. They influenced each other, multiplying the resentful energy, making it more troublesome than before. The two played Rest three times in succession before the agitation gradually subsided.

Wei Wuxian put away his flute and was just about to tidy up the corpse pieces scattered across the floor when he suddenly let out an 'oh,' saying: 'Good Brother has been doing some pretty good training.'

The burial shroud draping the torso had come undone, the collar pulled askew, revealing the solid, powerful physique of a young man: broad shoulders, narrow waist, clearly defined abdominal muscles, strong but not exaggerated, just the kind of masculine build countless men dream of. Looking horizontally and vertically, Wei Wuxian couldn't help giving his abs two pats and said: 'Hanguang-jun, look at him. If this were alive, a slap from me would probably bounce back and injure me. How on earth was this trained?'

Lan Wangji's brow seemed to twitch, but he said nothing. Who knew Wei Wuxian would pat twice more? Finally, expressionlessly, Lan Wangji took up an Evil-Sealing Qiankun Pouch and silently began sealing the corpse. Wei Wuxian hastily stepped aside. In a moment, Lan Wangji had sealed all the limbs back, even tying several tight knots in succession. Wei Wuxian noticed nothing odd; he looked down at his own body's build, raised his brows, tied his sash properly, and once again looked perfectly presentable.

Glancing over, he saw that after putting away the pouches, Lan Wangji was still looking at him, intentionally or not, his eyes seemingly full of words unspoken. Deliberately, he said: 'Hanguang-jun, why are you looking at me like that? Still worried? Trust me, I really didn't do anything to you last night. And of course, you didn't do anything to me either.'

Lan Wangji pondered for a moment, as if having made some resolve, and said in a low voice: 'Last night, besides snatching the flute, I...'

Wei Wuxian said: 'You? What else did you do, right? Nothing much, just said a lot of things.'

Lan Wangji's Adam's apple on his snow-white neck moved slightly: '...What things.'

Wei Wuxian: 'Nothing too important. Just, um, for example, you really like...'

Lan Wangji's gaze froze.

Wei Wuxian said: 'Really like rabbits.'

'...'

Lan Wangji closed his eyes and turned his head away. Wei Wuxian considerately said: 'It's fine! Rabbits are so cute, who doesn't like them. I like them too, I like eating them, hahahahaha! Come on, Hanguang-jun, you drank so much last night... well, not that much, you got so drunk last night, you might not be feeling well this morning. Wash your face, drink some water, sit for a while longer. When you feel better, let's set off again. This time the direction is south by southwest. I'll go downstairs to buy breakfast, won't disturb you anymore.'

Just as he was about to leave, Lan Wangji said coldly: 'Wait.'

Wei Wuxian turned back: 'What?'

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and finally said: 'Do you have money?'

Wei Wuxian laughed: 'Yep! Where you keep your money, don't I know. I'll bring you a portion of breakfast too, Hanguang-jun, take your time, no need to rush.'

Stepping out of the room and closing the door, he stood in the hallway, silently clutching his stomach for a good while.

Lan Wangji seemed quite struck; he shut himself in the room and didn't come out for a long time. While waiting, Wei Wuxian leisurely went downstairs, left the inn, wandered around the streets a bit, bought some random snacks, sat on the steps, and ate while squinting in the sun. After basking for a while, a group of thirteen- or fourteen-year-old children ran past on the street.

The child in front was running very fast, tugging a long string, and at its end, a kite flew neither too high nor too low, bobbing up and down. The children behind held toy bows, shouting as they chased the kite and shot small arrows at it.

Wei Wuxian had once loved this game too. Archery was a required art for every scion of a cultivation clan, yet most disliked the tedium of shooting at proper targets. Outside of a Night Hunt, where they loosed arrows at monsters and demons, they preferred shooting at kites like this—each person with one, and whoever could fly it highest and farthest while hitting it most accurately was the winner. Originally played only among the younger children of the cultivation clans, the game spread until ordinary folk's children loved it as well, though the destructive force of their small arrows could never match that of these refined and gifted clan scions.

Back when Wei Wuxian was at Lotus Pier, playing kite-archery with the Jiang disciples, he took first place many times. Jiang Cheng was always second; his kite would either fly too far for the arrow to reach, or if it was hit, it wouldn't have flown as far as Wei Wuxian's kite. The two of them had kites a whole size larger than everyone else's, shaped like a flying demonic beast, vividly and grandly colored, its wide mouth gaping with a howl, several pointed tails dangling and fluttering wildly in the wind. From afar, they looked exceptionally lively and vivid, not so much ferocious as rather adorably clumsy. Jiang Fengmian had personally built the bamboo frames, and then Jiang Yanli painted them, so every time they brought those kites out to compete, they felt a sense of pride.

Thinking of this, a faint smile curved at the corner of Wei Wuxian's mouth, and he couldn't help lifting his head to look at what kind of kite the children were flying. He saw it was entirely golden, a large round disc. He wondered: 'What is this thing? A sesame cake? Or some monster I don't know about?'

Just then, a gust of wind came. The kite had been flying low to begin with, and not in an open area, so it came crashing down at once. One child cried: 'Aiyo, the sun fell down!'

Wei Wuxian understood immediately: these children were probably playing a game imitating the Sunshot Campaign.

This place was Liyang. Back when the Qishan Wen Clan was at its height, they threw their weight around everywhere. Liyang was not far from Qishan, and the locals must have suffered deeply—either harassed by the clan's poorly confined demonic beasts, or bullied by their overbearing cultivators. After the Sunshot Campaign, when the Wen Clan was crushed by the united families, their century-old foundation collapsed overnight. Many places around Qishan happily held activities celebrating the Wen clan's downfall, which even evolved into traditions. This game probably counted as one of them.

The children stopped chasing, gathered together with great consternation, and began discussing: 'What do we do? Before we even shot the sun, it fell down on its own. Now who's going to be the boss?'

One raised a hand: 'Of course me! I'm Jin Guangyao, I killed the Wen Clan's great villain!'

Wei Wuxian sat on the steps in front of the inn, watching with keen interest.

In this game, the currently glorious and highly favored Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun was naturally the most popular role. Although his origins were hard to speak of, precisely because of that, his achievement of climbing to such heights was all the more admirable. During the Sunshot Campaign, he'd spent years as an undercover agent, moving like a fish in water, fooling the entire Qishan Wen Clan inside and out, countless secrets leaked without their knowledge. After the Sunshot Campaign, with every manner of flattery, a thousand clever schemes, and ten thousand tactics, he ultimately ascended to the position of Chief Cultivator, becoming the undisputed foremost among the hundred families. Such a life could truly be called a legend. If Wei Wuxian played, he'd want to give being Jin Guangyao a try too. Choosing that kid as boss—very reasonable!

Another protested: 'I'm Nie Mingjue, I won the most battles and captured the most prisoners. I'm the boss!'

'Jin Guangyao' said: 'But I'm the Chief Cultivator.'

'Nie Mingjue' raised his fist: 'So what if you're the Chief Cultivator? You're my third brother too. Don't you still have to tuck your tail and run when you see me?'

'Jin Guangyao' was indeed very cooperative, very much in character; he shrank his shoulders and ran off. Another said: 'You short-lived ghost.'

Since they'd chosen to play a certain sect leader, they obviously harbored some admiration for that leader in their hearts; 'Nie Mingjue' got angry: 'Jin Zixuan, you died even earlier than me, even shorter-lived!'

'Jin Zixuan' refused to concede: 'So what if I'm short-lived? I'm ranked third!'

'Ranked third only means your face is ranked third!'

At that moment, a child seemed tired from running and standing, and also sidled over to the steps, sitting down side by side with Wei Wuxian. He waved his hand, like a peacemaker, and said: 'Alright, alright, stop arguing. I'm the Yiling Patriarch, I'm the most powerful. I'll just reluctantly be the boss.'

Wei Wuxian: '...'

He looked down and, sure enough, stuck in the child's waistband was a small thin wooden stick, probably meant to be Chenqing.

Only children like this could so purely disregard good and evil, only argue about combat power, and be willing to deign to act as the Yiling Patriarch.

Another said: 'No, I'm the Sandu Shengshou, I'm the most powerful.'

The 'Yiling Patriarch,' in a very knowing tone, said: 'Jiang Cheng, what do you have that can compare to me? Which time haven't you lost to me? How can you shamelessly claim to be the most powerful? Aren't you embarrassed.'

'Jiang Cheng' said: 'Hmph, I can't compare to you? Remember how you died?'

The faint smile at the corner of Wei Wuxian's lips shattered instantly.

As if pricked without warning by a tiny highly poisonous needle, a sudden slight sting spread throughout his body.

The 'Yiling Patriarch' beside him clapped his hands and said: 'Look at me! Left hand Chenqing, right hand Tiger Tally, plus a Ghost General—I'm invincible under heaven! Hahahaha...' He raised a stick in his left hand and held a stone in his right, laughing wildly for a while, then said: 'Wen Ning? Come out!' A child behind the crowd raised his hand and weakly said: 'I'm here... um... I wanted to say... during the Sunshot Campaign, I wasn't dead yet...'

Wei Wuxian felt he absolutely had to interrupt.

He said: 'Distinguished sect leaders, may I ask a question?'

These children had never had an adult intervene in their game before, let alone not a scolding but a serious question like this. The 'Yiling Patriarch' looked at him strangely and warily: 'What do you want to ask?'

Wei Wuxian said: 'Why is there no one from the Gusu Lan Clan?'

'There is.'

'Where?'

The 'Yiling Patriarch' pointed at a child who hadn't said a single word from start to finish: 'That one.'

Wei Wuxian looked and sure enough, the child had very delicate features, clearly a handsome sprout, and a white cord was tied around his smooth forehead, serving as a forehead ribbon. He asked: 'Who is he?'

The 'Yiling Patriarch' curled his lip disdainfully and said: 'Lan Wangji!'

...Alright. These children had grasped the essence. Playing Lan Wangji, one truly should keep one's mouth shut!

Suddenly, the corners of Wei Wuxian's mouth curved up again.

That highly poisonous little needle had been pulled out and tossed who knows into which corner; all the stinging was swept away in an instant. Wei Wuxian murmured to himself: 'Strange indeed. How can someone so dull always make me this happy?'

When Lan Wangji came downstairs, he saw Wei Wuxian sitting on the steps, a group of children beside him sharing steamed buns. Wei Wuxian was eating buns while instructing two children sitting back-to-back in front of him: '...Now, before you are thousands upon thousands of Wen cultivators, every one of them fully armed, surrounding you so tightly not a drop of water could trickle through. Sharpen your gazes—yes, just like that. Good, Lan Wangji, pay attention: right now you're not your usual self. You're covered in blood! Your killing intent is fierce! Your eyes are ferocious! Wei Wuxian, lean closer to him. Can you twirl a flute? Let me see, one-handed twirl. With flair—do you know what flair means? Give it here, I'll teach you.' The child 'Wei Wuxian' gave an 'oh' and handed over the small thin stick. Wei Wuxian, with practiced skill, twirled 'Chenqing' between his two fingers until it spun like flying, prompting the children to swarm over in a rush, marveling loudly.

Lan Wangji: '...'

Approaching silently, Lan Wangji saw Wei Wuxian notice him, dust off his rear, and bid the children goodbye. It was with some difficulty that he stood up, and as he walked along the road, he laughed all the way, as if afflicted with a strange poison.

Lan Wangji: '...'

Wei Wuxian: 'Hahahahaha, sorry, Hanguang-jun, I gave all the breakfast I bought for you to them. We'll buy more later.'

Lan Wangji: 'Mm.'

Wei Wuxian: 'So, weren't those two kids just adorable? That one with a cord tied around his head—who do you think he was imitating? Hahaha...'

After a stretch of wordlessness, Lan Wangji finally could not hold back: '...What else exactly did I do last night?'

It surely wasn't that simple—otherwise how could it make Wei Wuxian laugh like this until now???

Wei Wuxian waved his hands repeatedly: 'No no no no no. You didn't do anything, it's just me being bored, hahahahaha... Alright, ahem, Hanguang-jun, I need to talk business.'

Lan Wangji said: 'Speak.'

Wei Wuxian said with utter seriousness: 'The coffin-beating noise at Chang Family Cemetery had been silent for ten years, and suddenly it's haunting again. This definitely isn't coincidence; there must be a trigger.'

Lan Wangji said: 'What do you think the trigger is.'

Wei Wuxian said: 'Good question. I think the trigger is that the torso was dug up.'

Lan Wangji said: 'Mm.'

His focused expression made Wei Wuxian again recall the earnest way he'd held his two fingers when drunk last night. Suppressing his laughter with great pain, he said seriously: 'I'm thinking that the dismemberment wasn't simply revenge or venting hatred, but a vicious suppression method. The one who dismembered the body deliberately chose those places where supernatural disturbances haunted to place the parts.'

Lan Wangji said: 'Fight poison with poison, mutual restraint, maintaining balance.'

Wei Wuxian said: 'Correct. So yesterday, when The Gravedigger dug up the torso, with nothing left to suppress the Chang family's vengeful spirits, the coffin-beating started again. The principle is the same as the Qinghe Nie Sect's method in the Saber Hall for suppressing the Saber Spirit and the wall-corpses. Perhaps it was learned from the Nie family's Saber Hall to begin with. It seems this person has deep connections with both the Qinghe Nie Sect and the Gusu Lan Clan, hardly an easy character.'

Lan Wangji said: 'Such people are few.'

Wei Wuxian said: 'Mm. They'll gradually surface. And since the other side has started moving the corpses, it shows they're getting anxious. They'll certainly make more moves next. Even if we don't go looking for them, they'll come looking for us. Searching back and forth, sooner or later they'll reveal more flaws. Besides, Good Brother's hand will point us in the right direction. But we probably need to move faster too. Only a right hand and a head remain—next, we must get ahead of them as well.'

The two of them traveled southwest. This time, the destination guided by the left hand was Eastern Shu, shrouded in dense fog.

A ghost city that everyone in the area feared and avoided at all costs.