Grass and Trees, Part Eight (10)

Lan Wangji's sword opened a line across Xue Yang's chest, and the blood that sprang was not the only thing the stroke claimed, for Fuxue's tip had flicked away the Spirit-Locking Pouch he kept tucked against his breast. Wei Wuxian, who could not see clearly, called out, 'Xue Yang! What is it you want back? Shuanghua? Shuanghua was never your sword. By what right do you say give it back? Have you no shame?'

Xue Yang broke into laughter. 'Senior Wei, you really don't pull your punches.'

'Laugh,' Wei Wuxian said. 'Go on, laugh yourself to death — you'll still never piece together Xiao Xingchen's Remnant Soul. The man was sickened to the bone by you, and still you insist on dragging him back to play your games.'

Xue Yang laughed suddenly, then suddenly snarled, 'Who wants to play games with him!'

'Then why,' Wei Wuxian said, 'were you so eager to kneel and beg me to mend his Soul?'

A man as sharp as Xue Yang could hardly fail to know that Wei Wuxian was needling him on purpose — first to make him lose himself in rage, second to make him shout and curse, so that Lan Wangji could fix his position by the sound and strike — and yet he could not help answering, line after line. With venom in his voice he said, 'For what? Hah! As if you don't know. I mean to make him a Fierce Corpse, an evil thing, bound to my command. He wanted so badly to be a man of high and noble purity? Then I'll make him kill without end, never to know a moment's peace!'

'Oh?' Wei Wuxian said. 'You hate him this much? Then why did you go and kill Chang Ping?'

Xue Yang gave a scornful laugh. 'Why did I kill Chang Ping? Need you even ask, Yiling Patriarch? Didn't I tell you? I said I'd kill the whole Liyang Chang Clan, that I wouldn't leave so much as a dog of theirs alive!'

Every word he spoke was as good as calling out his own position, and the sound of a blade running through flesh came again and again, yet Xue Yang's capacity to bear wound and pain was beyond that of ordinary men — Wei Wuxian had witnessed as much within the Empathy, how even with a sword driven clean through his belly the man could chat and jest as though nothing were amiss. Wei Wuxian went on, 'That's a fine reason you've found, but the dates don't match. A man like you, who repays a glare a thousandfold, who works swift and ruthless — if you truly meant to wipe out a family, why would the deed be put off for years on end? Why you really went to kill Chang Ping, you know perfectly well in your own heart.'

'Then say it,' Xue Yang said. 'What is it I know in my heart? What do I know?!'

The last line he roared. Wei Wuxian said, 'Kill him you did — but why must you use the Death by a Thousand Cuts, the sentence that means punishment? If this was vengeance for yourself, why use Shuanghua and not your own Jiangzai? And why, of all things, gouge out Chang Ping's eyes to make him like Xiao Xingchen?'

Xue Yang's voice tore ragged. 'Nonsense! All of it nonsense! In taking vengeance, was I supposed to let him die in comfort?!'

'You were indeed taking vengeance,' Wei Wuxian said. 'But for whom, in the end, were you avenging? How absurd. If you truly wanted vengeance, the one most deserving of a thousand cuts is yourself!'

Two sharp whistles split the air, hurtling at his face. Wei Wuxian did not stir; Wen Ning flashed in front of him and caught two Skull-Piercing Nails glinting with a sinister black light. Xue Yang gave a hair-raising laugh, like the cry of a night owl, then cut it off abruptly and fell silent, paying him no more heed, returning to grapple with Lan Wangji through the fog. Wei Wuxian thought, 'This little thug's grip on life is too tenacious — he seems to feel no pain at all, as if a wound anywhere is nothing to him. Let him speak just a couple more lines, let Lan Zhan run him through a few more times — I refuse to believe that with his hands and feet cut off he'd still be leaping about. A pity he won't take the bait anymore!'

Just then, through the fog came a crisp clatter of a Bamboo Pole striking stone.

His thoughts turning like lightning, Wei Wuxian shouted, 'Lan Zhan — strike where the Bamboo Pole sounds!'

Lan Wangji's sword went out at once. Xue Yang let out a muffled grunt. A moment later the Bamboo Pole rang out again, abruptly, from another place several yards off!

Lan Wangji kept thrusting toward the source of the sound. Xue Yang said coldly, 'Little blind girl — following at my back, aren't you afraid I'll crush you?'

Ever since Xue Yang had murdered her, A-Qing had kept dodging and hiding, never letting him find her. For some reason Xue Yang had paid little mind to this lone wandering ghost, as though he reckoned her too trifling to fear. But now, through the fog, A-Qing clung at Xue Yang's back like a shadow, beating the Bamboo Pole rap after rap, betraying his position, pointing Lan Wangji toward where to strike!

Xue Yang's footwork was lightning-quick; in the space of a breath he would surface somewhere new. Yet A-Qing had been no slow runner in life either, and as a Yin Soul she stayed glued to him step for step, a curse fastened to his back, the Bamboo Pole in her hand hammering the ground without pause. That clattering rattled near, then far, left, then right, before, then behind — impossible to throw off, impossible to shake. And the moment it sounded, Fuxue's edge came with it!

Where before Xue Yang had moved through the fog like a fish in water, free to hide and free to strike from ambush, now he was forced to split his attention to deal with A-Qing. He swore, and with a sharp backward fling of his arm hurled a Paper Talisman — and it was that single distraction that, amid A-Qing's strange shriek, let Fuxue pierce his chest!

Though A-Qing's Yin Soul had been shattered by Xue Yang's Paper Talisman, and no more Bamboo Pole struck the ground to betray his trail, that one stroke had already found a vital spot, and Xue Yang could no longer come and go like a phantom, impossible to pin down!

From within the fog came several coughs of blood. Wei Wuxian flung out an empty Spirit-Locking Pouch to salvage what it could of A-Qing's Soul. Xue Yang dragged his heavy steps a few paces, then lunged abruptly forward, hand outstretched, roaring, 'Give it to me!'

Fuxue's blue light came down, and Lan Wangji severed one of his arms clean off.

Blood sprayed in a wild arc, and a great swath of the dim white fog before Wei Wuxian was dyed crimson; the reek of blood pressed down from every side, each breath thick with the damp taste of rust — yet he had no thought to spare for any of it, intent only on gathering and absorbing A-Qing's scattered Yin Soul. Over there, though Xue Yang still gave no cry of pain, there came the heavy thud of knees hitting the ground. He seemed to have lost too much blood; at last he could walk no farther, and crumpled down on his knees.

Lan Wangji summoned Fuxue once more; the next stroke would take Xue Yang's head clean from his shoulders!

Who could have foreseen that at this very moment, a column of blue flame would erupt skyward through the white fog.

The curse-fire of a Teleportation Talisman!

Knowing in his heart that things had gone badly, Wei Wuxian heedless of the peril in the fog rushed across. In that rush he nearly slipped, for the ground where the reek of blood was thickest ran wet and slick, all of it gushed from the stump of Xue Yang's arm.

Yet of Xue Yang himself there was no trace.

Lan Wangji came over, and Wei Wuxian said, 'The gravedigger?'

Xue Yang had been struck in a vital place by Fuxue and had lost an arm besides; by the look of the bleeding, his death was certain, and he could not possibly have had the spare strength or Spiritual Power left to use a Teleportation Talisman. Lan Wangji gave a slight nod. 'I ran that gravedigger through three times — he was nearly mine to take alive, but a great press of Walking Corpses came on, and let him slip away.'

Wei Wuxian said gravely, 'That gravedigger had taken a sword through the body, and still spent his Spiritual Power so dearly to carry off Xue Yang's corpse — I fear he too knows Xue Yang, knows what he is. Carrying off the body... it's to search it for the Stygian Tiger Seal.'

Rumor held that after Jin Guangyao had Xue Yang quietly disposed of, the Stygian Tiger Seal vanished, its whereabouts unknown. But now it seemed nine parts likely the Seal had been on him all along. Yi City was a roost for thousands upon thousands of Living Corpses, Walking Corpses, even Fierce Corpses — Corpse Poison Powder or Skull-Piercing Nails alone could scarcely have held them in check. Only the Stygian Tiger Seal could explain how Xue Yang could command them at will, how they obeyed his every word, hurling themselves forward wave on wave. A man so suspicious and cunning would surely never set the Stygian Tiger Seal anywhere out of his own sight; only hidden on his person, within reach at every moment, would give him a sense of safety. For the gravedigger to carry off his body was very nearly to carry off the Stygian Tiger Seal.

This was no small matter, and Wei Wuxian's tone was heavy. 'Things being as they are, we can only hope that the Stygian Tiger Seal Xue Yang reforged was of limited power.'

Just then Lan Wangji tossed something lightly to him.

Wei Wuxian caught it offhand. 'What's this?'

'The right hand,' Lan Wangji said.

What he had thrown was a brand-new Evil-Sealing Qiankun Pouch, and only now did Wei Wuxian recall their purpose in coming to Yi City. His spirits lifted. 'Our good brother's right hand?'

'Mm,' said Lan Wangji.

Amid the gravedigger, the swarms of Walking Corpses, and the bewildering demon-fog, Lan Wangji had found a moment all the same to retrieve the corpse's right hand without a hitch, and Wei Wuxian was wholly won over, lavishing praise without restraint. 'Worthy of Hanguang-Jun! With this we've stolen another march on them. A shame it isn't the head — I did want a look at what our good brother looks like — but that won't be long now either... Where's Song Lan?'

With Xue Yang's corpse gone, the white fog flowed faster and seemed to thin a little, so that seeing was no longer so hard. It was for this reason that Wei Wuxian suddenly noticed Song Lan was nowhere to be seen. In the place where he had lain, only Wen Ning still crouched on the ground, staring blankly over their way.

Lan Wangji laid his hand on the hilt of Fuxue, just sheathed, and Wei Wuxian said, 'It's all right. No need to be on guard. Song Lan — that Fierce Corpse from just now — he ought to have no intent to attack, or Wen Ning wouldn't have failed to warn us. Most likely his wits have come back to him and he's gone off on his own.'

He gave a soft whistle, and Wen Ning bowed his head, rose to his feet, and at the sound withdrew, his figure vanishing into the white fog. The dragging clatter of chains receded by degrees, and Lan Wangji said nothing more, only calmly, 'Let's go.'

They were just about to set off when Wei Wuxian said suddenly, 'Wait.'

In the pool of blood he had seen a single, solitary thing.

A severed left hand. Four fingers clenched tight, the little finger missing.

The fist of this hand was clenched very hard. Wei Wuxian crouched down and, with all his strength, pried it open one finger at a time. When it came open, he found cupped in the palm a single small sweet.

The sweet had gone faintly black; surely it could no longer be eaten.

Held too tightly, it had already crumbled a little.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji returned together to the Coffin Home. The great door stood open, and sure enough, Song Lan stood beside the coffin where Xiao Xingchen lay, head bowed, gazing down into it.

The young men of the various clans had all drawn their swords and pressed together in a knot off to one side, watching warily the Fierce Corpse that had attacked them only moments before; at the sight of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji returning they looked like men granted a reprieve, yet dared not cry out, as if afraid of waking or angering Song Lan. Wei Wuxian stepped over the threshold into the Coffin Home and made the introduction for Lan Wangji. 'Song Lan — the Daoist Song Zichen.'

Song Lan, standing by the coffin, raised his head and turned his gaze toward them. Lan Wangji lifted the hem of his robe lightly and, with graceful, reserved bearing, stepped over the high threshold, inclining his head a little.

Song Lan's wits had returned, and his pupils had settled into place; within their sockets were a pair of clear, lucid black eyes.

In these eyes, which had been Xiao Xingchen's, was a sorrow beyond all telling.

And so, without need to ask anything further, Wei Wuxian knew. In all the time he had been driven as a Fierce Corpse by Xue Yang, he had seen everything, and remembered everything.

To ask more, to say more, would only heap up helplessness and pain.

After a silence, Wei Wuxian drew out two equally small, slight Spirit-Locking Pouches and held them out to him. 'The Daoist Xiao Xingchen. And Miss A-Qing.'

Terrified of Xue Yang though A-Qing had been, moments ago she had still clung tight to the very murderer who had butchered her with his own hands, leaving him no way to shake her off or hide, until Fuxue ran him through the chest and he met his reckoning. She had been struck nearly to nothing by a vicious Talisman Casting from Xue Yang, and Wei Wuxian, scraping and gathering here and there, exhausting every trick he had, had only just managed to recover a little of her. Now, shattered into scattered fragments, she was much like Xiao Xingchen.

Two feeble Souls, each curled within a Spirit-Locking Pouch, as though even a slightly harder jolt would scatter them inside the bag. Song Lan's hands trembled faintly as he took them, cradling them in his palms, not daring even to hold them by the tassels, for fear of jostling them to ruin.

Wei Wuxian said, 'Daoist Song, the Daoist Xiao Xingchen's body — what do you mean to do with it?'

Cradling the two Spirit-Locking Pouches carefully in one hand, Song Lan drew Fuxue with the other and wrote two lines upon the ground: 'Cremate the body. Tend the Soul to rest.'

Xiao Xingchen's Soul, shattered as it was, could surely never return to the body again, so cremation was just as well. Let the body disperse, leaving only the pure Soul, tended slowly to rest — and perhaps one day it might yet return to the world.

Wei Wuxian nodded, then said, 'And what do you mean to do from here on?'

Song Lan wrote: 'Bear Shuanghua, walk the roads of the world. As one with Xingchen, root out demons and slay the evil.'

He paused, then wrote further: 'When he wakes, tell him: I'm sorry. The fault was never yours.'

These were the words he had not been able to say to Xiao Xingchen while he lived.

The demon-fog of Yi City thinned by degrees, until the long streets and forking roads could be roughly made out. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian led their band of clan youths out of that desolate Ghost City. At the city gate Song Lan took his leave of them.

He was still in that one black Daoist robe, alone, two swords on his back — Shuanghua and Fuxue — and two Souls in his keeping — Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing — as he set out upon another road.

Not the road by which they had come to Yi City.

Lan Sizhui gazed after his retreating figure, lost in thought a while, then said, ''Bright moon, clear wind — Xiao Xingchen; proud of snow, defiant of frost — Song Zichen'... I wonder whether the two of them will ever have a day to meet again.'

Walking along the weed-choked path, Wei Wuxian happened upon a patch of grass and thought, 'It was here, once, that Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing carried Xue Yang back to safety.'

Lan Jingyi said, 'Now you really have to tell us — what exactly did you see in the Empathy? How could that man be Xue Yang? Why was he impersonating Xiao Xingchen?'

'And another thing, and another — that just now, was that the Ghost General? Where's the Ghost General gone now? How come we didn't see him? Is he still in Yi City? How did he appear out of nowhere like that?'

Wei Wuxian pretended not to hear the second question and said, 'As for this — well, it's a very complicated story...'

By the time he had finished telling it along the way, gloom and grief had settled over those beside him, and not a single one of them remembered the Ghost General any longer.

Lan Jingyi was the first to start crying. 'How can there be such a thing in this world!'

Jin Ling raged, 'That Xue Yang — scum! Filth! He died far too cheaply! If Fairy were here, I'd set Fairy on him to bite him to death!'

A chill ran through Wei Wuxian's heart: if Fairy were here, the likelihood was that before Xue Yang was ever bitten to death, he himself would be frightened to death first.

That youth who had praised A-Qing while peeping through the crack of the door beat his chest and stamped his feet. 'Miss A-Qing — oh, Miss A-Qing!'

Lan Jingyi wept the loudest, utterly losing his composure, yet this time no one reminded him to keep quiet, for Lan Sizhui's eyes had reddened too, and luckily Lan Wangji had not forbidden him to speak. Snot and tears streaming down his face, Lan Jingyi proposed, 'Let's go burn some Joss Paper for the Daoist Xiao Xingchen and Miss A-Qing. Isn't there a village at the crossroads up ahead? Let's go buy a few things and make them an offering.'

The others all chimed in. 'Yes, yes, good!'

Talking thus they came to the village at the Stone Tablet Crossroads, and Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui ran in without delay, buying up a jumble of incense sticks, scented candles, and red and yellow Joss Paper. Going off to one side, they built a windscreen of sorts from earth and clay brick, and the whole pack of young men squatted in a ring on the ground and set to burning the Joss Paper, murmuring under their breath as they burned. Wei Wuxian's own mood had not been light to begin with — he had scarcely cracked a single quip along the road — and at this sight he truly could not hold back, and said to Lan Wangji, 'Hanguang-Jun, look at them, doing this right at someone's doorstep, and you won't even stop them?'

Lan Wangji said mildly, 'You go stop them.'

'Fine,' Wei Wuxian said. 'I'll discipline them for you.'

So off he went. 'I'm not mistaken, am I? Every one of you is the child of a Cultivation Clan, and your fathers and mothers and uncles never taught you that the dead can't receive Joss Paper? They're dead — what use have they for money? It won't reach them. And besides, this is someone else's doorstep, and here you are burning...'

Lan Jingyi waved a hand. 'Off, off, you're blocking the wind. It won't catch now. And anyway, you've never died, so how would you know the dead can't receive Joss Paper?'

Another youth, his face streaming with tears and smeared with soot, lifted it up and chimed in. 'Exactly. How would you know? What if they can receive it?'

Wei Wuxian murmured, 'How would I know?'

Of course he knew!

In all those dozen-odd years he had been dead, he had never once received a single sheet of Joss Paper!

Lan Jingyi drove another knife into his heart. 'Even if you couldn't receive it, that'd surely just be because nobody burned any for you.'

Wei Wuxian searched his own heart. 'How could that be? Was I really such a failure? Not one single person willing to burn Joss Paper for me? Could it truly be that I never received any because no one burned any?'

The more he thought, the more impossible it seemed, and he turned his head and asked Lan Wangji quietly, 'Hanguang-Jun, did you ever burn Joss Paper for me? Surely you, at least, burned some for me?'

Lan Wangji glanced at him, then bowed his head to brush a fleck of paper-ash from beneath his sleeve, and gazed quietly off into the distance, saying not a word.

Watching the calm of his profile, Wei Wuxian thought, 'It can't be?'

Truly not, not even once?!

Just then a villager came over with a crude bow slung on his back, displeased. 'Why are you burning that here? This is my doorstep — it's terrible luck!'

'See?' said Wei Wuxian. 'Told off, aren't you?'

These young men had never done such a thing before and had not known that burning Joss Paper at someone's door was ill-omened, and they apologized over and over. Lan Sizhui hastened to wipe his face and said, 'Is this your doorstep?'

The villager said, 'Hey now, what kind of talk is that from a youngster? Three generations of my family have lived here — if it isn't mine, is it yours?'

Hearing his tone, Jin Ling bristled and made to rise. 'Watch how you speak.'

Wei Wuxian pressed a hand to his head and pushed him back down. Lan Sizhui said again, 'I see. I'm sorry — my question just now meant nothing by it. It's only that when we passed this house last time, the one we saw here was a different hunter, which is why I asked.'

But the villager said blankly, 'A different hunter? What other one?'

He held up three fingers. 'Three generations, a single heir each — I'm the only one, no brothers! My father died long ago, I've taken no wife and fathered no child. Where would another hunter come from?'

Lan Jingyi said, 'There really was!' He stood up too. 'Bundled up tight, with a big hat, sitting right there in your courtyard with his head down mending a bow, as though he were about to go out hunting. When we got here we even asked him the way. It was he who pointed us toward Yi City!'

The villager spat. 'Rubbish! You really saw someone sitting in my courtyard? There's no such man in my house! That god-forsaken hole of a Yi City — it'd kill the very ghosts — and he pointed you down that road? Wanting to send you to your deaths, more like! What you saw was a ghost!'

He spat several times in a row, spitting out the ill luck, then shook his head, turned, and walked off, leaving the pack of young men staring at one another. Lan Jingyi was still protesting, 'He really was sitting in this courtyard, I remember it clearly...'

Wei Wuxian said a few brief words to Lan Wangji, then turned back. 'Understand now? You were lured to Yi City. The hunter who pointed you the way was no villager from here at all — he was someone with sinister designs in disguise.'

Jin Ling said, 'From the start — the cats killed all along the way, the bodies thrown out — was someone deliberately steering us toward this place? That false hunter, was he the one doing it all?'

'Eight or nine parts out of ten,' said Wei Wuxian.

Lan Sizhui said, puzzled, 'Why would he go to such lengths to lure us to Yi City?'

Wei Wuxian said, 'I don't know yet, but from now on you must take the greatest care. If you meet with anything so uncanny again, don't go investigating on your own — contact your clan first, send more hands, act together. If Hanguang-Jun hadn't happened to be in Yi City this time, your little lives would have been forfeit.'

At the thought of what might have become of them had they been trapped within Yi City, the hairs stood up on more than a few backs. Whether surrounded by a swarm of corpses, or facing that living devil Xue Yang, the prospect was enough to chill the blood.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian led their band of clan youths on a while, and as dusk drew near they reached the town where they had left their dog and donkey.

The town was bright with lamplight and loud with the noise of voices. The thought rose in more than one of them: now this is a place where the living dwell.

Wei Wuxian threw open his arms toward the dappled donkey and called, 'Little Apple!'

Little Apple brayed at him in a fury, and the next moment Wei Wuxian heard a burst of barking and at once darted behind Lan Wangji. Fairy had come charging over too, and dog and donkey stood facing off, baring their teeth at each other.

Lan Wangji said, 'Tie it up. Eat.'

Dragging along a Wei Wuxian all but glued to his back, he headed up to the second floor under Chasheng's guidance. Jin Ling and the others made to follow, but Lan Wangji turned and swept them with a glance of uncertain meaning. Lan Sizhui at once said to the rest, 'The elders' table and the youngsters' table should be kept apart — let's stay on the first floor.'

Lan Wangji gave a slight nod and went on up, his expression cool and distant. Jin Ling hesitated on the stairs, neither up nor down, and Wei Wuxian looked back with a grin. 'Grown-ups and children keep apart. Some things are better off not seen by you lot.'

Jin Ling pursed his lips. 'Who wants to see!'

Lan Wangji had a table set on the first floor for the band of clan youths, while he and Wei Wuxian took a private room on the second floor, seated facing each other.

Wei Wuxian said, 'Hanguang-Jun, take my word — your clan must not take on the cleaning-up of Yi City all by itself. A city that size, if it's truly to be cleared, will drain resources on every front and be no end of trouble. Central Shu was never the Gusu Lan Clan's territory to govern. Count up that crowd of youngsters downstairs, see which clans they hail from, reckon each of their families in for a share — those who ought to put in the labor still have to put it in.'

Lan Wangji said, 'It can be considered.'

Wei Wuxian said, 'Consider it well. Everyone loves to scramble forward when there's prey to be had, and shove the burden back and forth when there's responsibility to bear. You take this loss today, and the spoiled lot of them won't necessarily thank you or grasp the height of your principles. Do it often enough and people will instead come to feel that, whenever trouble strikes, your stepping forward is only to be expected. That's just the way of the world.'

He paused, then added, 'Still, it was a stroke of bad luck — Yi City is too remote, and there was no Watchtower set up there, of all places, or else Jin Ling, Sizhui and the rest wouldn't have blundered in, and Miss A-Qing's and the Daoist Xiao Xingchen's Souls wouldn't have had to wait so many years to see the light of day again.'

The Mystic Sect Clans, great and small, were scattered like stars across the land, most dwelling in bustling cities at the crossing of roads, or in scenic spirit-lands of clear water and fair hills; yet there were remote and barren places where no clan was willing to take up post, and accomplished rogue cultivators rarely wandered as far. So when demons and Evil Spirits rose to wreak havoc in such places, the common folk there suffered bitterly with nowhere to turn for help. While Jin Guangshan, the former clan head of the Lanling Jin Clan, still lived, Jin Guangyao had once raised the idea of addressing this, but because the expense was so great, Jin Guangshan took no eager view of it, and with the Lanling Jin Clan's authority then not yet commanding enough, it went unheeded and came to nothing.

Once Jin Guangyao had formally succeeded as clan head and ascended to the office of Chief Cultivator, he set about gathering and allotting manpower and materials from the various clans, and put the old plan into motion. At first the voices of opposition ran high, and more than a few questioned whether the Lanling Jin Clan meant to profit by it and line its own pockets. Behind a smiling face Jin Guangyao ground away at it for a full five years, in those five years forging alliances with countless men and falling out with countless others, using carrot and stick, exhausting every means, until by sheer force of will he ground the thing through and built more than twelve hundred Watchtowers.

These Watchtowers were distributed throughout those remote and barren places, each one assigned disciples drawn from the various clans, to act at once should any uncanny sign appear, and, if they could not resolve it, to send out word swiftly and seek the help of other clans or rogue cultivators. Should the cultivators who came to render aid demand payment that the locals could not bear, what the Lanling Jin Clan raised each year was enough to cover it.

All this came about after the Yiling Patriarch's time, and it was only as the two of them passed several Watchtowers along their travels that Wei Wuxian heard the whole of it from Lan Wangji. Word had it that Koi Tower was even now preparing a second batch of Watchtowers, expanding the number to three thousand to widen their reach further. Though, once this batch was completed, the Watchtowers proved their worth so plainly that before long they won wide praise, the voices of doubt and derision had never once ceased — and so it would surely be another vast and tumultuous upheaval.

Before long the dishes came up, and the wine came up too. Wei Wuxian let his eyes drift, seemingly idle, across the table; nearly half of it was a fiery red. He watched where Lan Wangji's chopsticks went and found that he reached mostly for the lighter dishes, only now and then toward the bright-red plates, and even those went into his mouth without the least change of expression — and something stirred faintly in his heart. Noticing his gaze, Lan Wangji asked, 'What is it.'

Wei Wuxian poured a cup slowly and said, 'I felt like having someone to drink with me.'