Work Text:
When they stormed the Burial Mounds, they found them empty.
A whole army of cultivators all baying for blood, only to find themselves alone amongst the dead. They set upon the small huts and gardens in frustration, razing everything to the ground. But it wasn’t enough.
They turned on each other. Each sect blamed another for allowing Yiling Laozu to escape. The resentment fed off their anger, and it didn’t take long for blood to spill. Only further feeding into the resentful energy of the Burial Mounds.
Later, they would say it was a curse left behind by Wei Wuxian to get them to destroy each other. But those that were there knew the truth, and carried it like a burden around their necks. Their own anger had been responsible.
It was the first doubt casted in Lan Xichen’s mind. He had seen how quickly the sects had turned on each other, how they used Wei Wuxian as their convenient scapegoat. The doubts quickly grew, all of them centered around Wei Wuxian. How could a whole army disappear without a trace? They’d need horses or swords, all of which they would have been able to trace. Instead there was nothing.
It was because of these doubts he found himself in front of his brother’s home. His uncle had said Lan Wangji should be banned from hearing any information about Wei Wuxian. His mind was delicate, and now so was his body. They had no idea what the information would do to him.
But Lan Xichen needed to know.
Lan Wangji had been to Yiling. He’d met Wei Wuxian there. He’d gone to the Burial Mounds, he must have seen the army. He must have some clue of how it could disappear without a trace. Surely he could explain it.
The Jingshi stank of blood. The scent was a bitter reminder of why his brother’s back was flayed open. For drawing the blood of your elders, you must pay it in kind. Thirty three lashes would have killed a lesser cultivator, yet his brother had survived. For what? Lan Xichen had demanded his brother answer him, but all he’d gotten was a single name.
Wei Ying .
It was only as he stared at his brother’s back, watching the blood slowly seep through the white bandages that he wondered if his Uncle was right. If he should really be bringing up Wei Wuxian while his brother was in this condition. But Lan Xichen’s curiosity burned. If Wei Wuxian’s army was as terrible as Jin Guangyao promised him it was, the cultivation world needed to know where it was. He wasn’t sure if they could survive another war.
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen breathed softly as he knelt by his brother’s side. He picked up the dipper in the bucket next to the bed, gently offering his brother a sip of water. “If you are feeling up to it, I have a few questions.” He murmured.
His brother’s eyes only blankly looked back at him. The same blank look he’d given him ever since Lan Xichen told him he was going to the Siege on the Burial Mounds. He didn’t move his head away, so Lan Xichen took it as acceptance.
“When we got to the Burial Mounds,” Lan Xichen spoke softly. “Wei Wuxian was gone. There was no trace of his army. Did he have an escape route, maybe an invention to obscure them from us?”
He saw his brother’s hand curl into a fist. The blank stare turned into a glare.
“There was no army.” Lan Wangji spoke, his voice sounding hollow.
“But Jin Guangyao sa-”
“He lied.”
Lan Wangji’s head lifted, his body beginning to shake from the effort. Still, his brother made no sounds of pain. It dropped back to the cushion, now facing away from Lan Xichen. He understood what it meant.
This conversation was over.
Lan Xichen sighed as he paused at the threshold to his brother’s home. Would Jin Guangyao really lie to him? He had seemed so sure, so set on the threat Wei Wuxian cast over the cultivation world. But his brother.
His brother.
He looked back over his shoulder at where Lan Wangji was resting on the bed. Wei Wuxian had a hold over him. Whether because the crush Lan Wangji had harbored since they were teens, or the dark spells Wei Wuxian was so fond of. Could he really trust his brother in regards to Wei Wuxian? The man had made his brother draw his own blade against his family.
He sighed again, this time in the fresh air outside of the Jingshi . Lan Xichen would just have to try again tomorrow. His brother wasn’t the only stubborn one in the family. It might take weeks or months, but eventually Lan Wangji would tell him.
Except the chance would never come.
He would be woken up shortly after midnight by a panicked healer. He’d assumed it would be news that Lan Wangji had ripped open his stitches again. Or that he’d taken another turn for the worse. That they were waking him up to give spiritual energy, he and his uncle were the few willing after what Lan Wangji had done. Nothing prepared him for the news that fell from the healer's lips.
Lan Wangji was gone.
Lan Xichen had arrived at the Jingshi to find nothing but blood stains. Bile rose in his throat as he noticed both Bichen and Wangji were gone from their stands. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his brain reminded him that his brother couldn’t have gotten very far. He could barely lift his own arm to drink or eat, let alone stand and walk. He quietly organized a search party.
By dawn the whole Cloud Recesses knew that Lan Wangji wasn’t within its walls.
The Lans did what they did best, organize. Dozens of search teams were sent off in every direction. Lan Qiren remained in the Cloud Recesses to organize and in case Lan Wangji would return. Lan Xichen led his own search team.
He led it to Yiling.
It was the only place he could think of his brother going. Wei Wuxian was the only thing that could have given him the strength to get out of that bed. Yet when they arrived in Yiling, they found no sight of him. No one in the town could tell them anything, or they didn’t want to. Lan Xichen could see the distrust in their eyes, the way mothers shooed their children inside at the first sign of cultivators. The bloodshed of the Burial Mounds still fresh in their minds.
They methodically combed through the area, from the Burial Mounds to the surrounding farms. Every field and farm house was searched. Lan Xichen found his frustration growing each day. There should be something, his brother was severely wounded! Yet there was no blood trail, no bloody bandages, no visits to the local healers.
After a month, Lan Qiren came to personally bring him home. Lan Xichen had stalled, only to have his Uncle tell him what he didn’t want to hear. If Lan Wangji had wanted to be found, they would have him by now. The only thing they could do was wait for him to come home.
And so Lan Xichen waited.
He tried to turn his attention back to the cultivation world. A world still gripped by panic. Everyone was waiting for the day the Yiling Laozu would emerge from the shadows with his army of the dead. They say it was that panic that pushed Jin Guangshan to his early grave.
But the day never came.
And so the cultivation world moved on. Nie Mingjue passed, finally subscumming to a qi deviation. Nie Huaisang took his place, as unprepared and as unwilling as a Sect Leader could be. Lan Xichen couldn’t help but take him under his wing.
After all, Nie Huaisang was without an older brother and after all these years Lan Xichen still hadn’t found his own. He was unlike Lan Wangji in every way, just as Lan Xichen was far from being Nie Mingjue. Together they began to heal.
Time went on.
Lan Xichen didn’t think of how much time until he was called to his uncle’s bedside. He had known his uncle had given up his aspirations of immortality long ago, following his passion for teaching. It was another matter to see him bedridden, his own mind failing him. It broke his heart when he asked after Lan Wangji. Unable to tell his uncle what he had forgotten, Lan Xichen said his brother was away, night hunting.
“Such a good boy,” Lan Qiren had sighed. “The ancestors will forgive me for the pride you two bring me.”
With a final hand pat, his Uncle was gone.
And time went on.
It wasn’t until Jin Guangyao began to grey that Lan Xichen realized it wasn’t moving on for him. A sense of terror settled over him as Nie Huaisang came wailing to him over grey hairs at a discussion conference. It left him stunned in a garden of Koi Tower, staring at his own ageless reflection in a pond. He’d already lost two brothers, now he’d just learned the death sentence on the remaining two.
Why would anyone choose immortality? Why would they choose to remain behind as their loved ones aged and died?
“You too?” A gruff voice broke through Lan Xichen’s spiral.
Lan Xichen uncharacteristically jerked, finding Jiang Wanyin lingering at the edge of the garden. His eyes widened as he took in the man, realizing like himself the man was untouched by the grasp of time. He remained wordless as Jiang Wanyin took a seat next to him.
“When did you?”
“Don’t know,” Jiang Wanyin shrugged. “Noticed it a few years ago.”
“Do you think it’s permanent?” Lan Xichen questioned softly.
“I’m not going to go test the theory,” Jiang Wanyin snorted back.
“So you’re going to choose to die,” Lan Xichen exhaled, a relief that he wasn’t the only one to choose it. He got a blank look.
“No, of course not!” Jiang Wanyin huffed. “I meant I wasn’t going to go see if I could die of mortal wounds.”
“Oh,” Lan XIchen felt a flush of embarrassment.
“Would it be that bad?” Jiang Wanyin questioned. “Living forever?”
“Living alone forever,” Lan Xichen sighed.
“Alone?” Jiang Wanyin questioned. “A sect leader is never alone.”
Lan Xichen blinked at him. Before he could think of a response, a voice called out.
“Sect Leader Jiang!” Lan Xichen watched a young boy come scurrying out into the garden. His eyes widened at the sight of Lan Xichen, hurrying to make a salute. “Sect Leader Lan.”
“What is it?” Jiang Wanyin questioned, his back straightening.
“8th shidi is drunk,” The disciple lowered his voice with a glance towards Jiang Wanyin. “He’s trying to climb the tower. None of us can stop him.”
“Well, we better go stop him.” Jiang Wanyin sighed, despite it Lan Xichen could see the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. He glanced over to Lan Xichen. “Kids, am I right?” He offered fondly.
Lan Xichen blinked. A sect leader is never alone . As if to prove Jiang Wanyin’s point, a Lan Disciple came looking for him. Lan Jingyi was his name, but Lan Xichen blinked at him for a moment. Who had his parents been? What did the boy want to specialize in? He used to know all the juniors, even the babies. When had he stopped caring?
“Lan Jingyi, how are your studies?” He questioned as they walked off.
And so it began.
Generation after generation of Lan disciples. He took to them like they were his own, each time a generation began to age he felt that thought. The thought to go with them, to move on. Each time he’d find a small smiles latching onto his legs asking if he wanted to go see the bunnies.
China’s borders fluctuated, dynasties rose and fell. The outside world came to call, and much like the country they lived in the cultivation world shut it out. They focused on the creatures within China’s borders, keeping to their age-old job.
A job they did too well. As the amount of creatures that went bump in the night waned, the interest in being a cultivator diminished. Before they knew it, yao and fierce corpses were being relegated to folk tales. Sects began turning their attention elsewhere. The Jins, much to an ageless Jin Rulan’s disappointment, turned to politics. The Nies turned to industry, casting metal machines instead of the sabres they used to be so famous for. Smaller sects merely became families, the great halls that once trained disciples now hosting only weddings and other family get-togethers.
As for the Cloud Recesses? Lan Xichen turned it into a school, taking on those still interested in learning the ancient art of Cultivation. Lotus Pier had followed suit, only to close a few decades later. Lan Xichen and Lan Jingyi, another who’d escaped the grasp of time, struggled to keep the Cloud Recesses from following. In the end, it transformed into Cloud Recess Academy. Its focus no longer on cultivation, but on education. Its doors open to all.
Amongst it all, new creatures began creeping over the borders. Each one was stranger than the last, leaving the few remaining cultivators struggling to counter each problem the monsters brought. Lan Xichen found himself banding together with Jiang Wanyin, Jin Rulan, Lan Jingyi and a few other immortal cultivators counter them.
And thus the Secret Society of the Cloud Recesses was born, or so Lan Jingyi liked to call it. A small group of immortals working to not only fight evil, but figure out how it worked. Lan Xichen found himself spending more time in the library, maintaining what they knew and binding new information on what they encountered in the fields. Jiang Wanyin became a teacher, having a natural knack for recognizing talent in students. Students he’d train to become their next generation of cultivators. Lan Jingyi and Jin Rulan took to the field, so it was unsurprising when they brought the first news of it.
Monster Hunters.
Their first interaction with them had been a pair, husband and wife, that had tracked a creature they called a vampire over the Chinese border from Russia. Lan Jingyi and his team had made short work of it, leaving the hunters amazed with their cultivation. Lan Jingyi had asked what they were planning to fight with the monster, they produced wooden stakes and garlic.
Lan Jingyi had almost died laughing on the spot. Until the vampire he’d ‘dispatched’ came back to life, taking down a junior before the monster hunters managed to stake the creature. It dissolved into ashes, confirming its demise.
The damage had been done. Lan Jingyi’s laughter, and Jin Rulan’s bristly nature, established the idea that cultivators were a stuffy lot. They were seen as unwilling to share their knowledge with others, a reputation that was hard to shake no matter how hard they tried.
It took centuries for them to gain another chance to prove their reputation wrong.
It came in the form of an invitation to an event that reminded Lan Xichen of the discussion conferences of old. A meeting of hunters, those who fought the unnatural with wits instead of qi . The only stipulation? A demonstration of the cultivation. Open access to the knowledge they held.
An agreement Lan Xichen was more than happy to make.
Which is how they found themselves at an out of season ski resort in the middle of the United States. The five of them, Lan Xichen, Jiang Wanyin, Lan Jingyi, Jin Rulan and Ouyang Zizhen, had faced raging yao and demonic ghosts. Yet all of them nervously shifted as they stared up at the building.
It was Jiang Wanyin who led the group in, after a loud scoff after glancing at the rest of the group. A young woman greeted them at the door, a friendly smile as she asked for their names. The smile grew once they gave them.
“The cultivators!” She exclaimed. “I should have guessed from the lack of luggage, I do hope your demonstrations include how to make one of those handy bags. What are they called? Quiwking? Quwaking?”
“Qiankun?” Lan Xichen offered with a confused lilt.
“That’s it!” She grinned. “Really nifty how you can shove so much crap in one of those. I hear you can even get it through security.”
“They have their advantages,” Lan Xichen nodded. “I am surprised you’ve heard about them.”
“Ah, the old man is a wealth of information.” She waved off. “I’m Stella by the way, Stella Stoker.”
“As in Bram Stoker?” Lan Jingyi perked up, ever the connoisseur of the strange and unusual.
“That’s the great-great-grandpa,” Stella Stoker sighed. “Trying to recruit monster hunters through fiction, too bad he wasn’t too great at it himself. Well you’re all on the docket for a little demonstration tonight, so I’ll let you all get settled in. If you need anything come find me or my wife -Helena Helsing. Everyone else can be a bit prickly. Hazards of the job.”
“I don’t like this,” Jiang Wanyin was muttering hours later as they were setting up their display. His grip tightened on Sandu as he held it in his crossed arms.
“We brought unclaimed swords, remember?” Lan Jingyi told him as he dug around in his qiankun pouch.
“We’re just offering information without any guarantee we’ll get any in return!” Jiang Wanyin huffed. “What if they’re all fakes? I mean Stella Stoker? What kind of name is that? For all we know she’s just a Stoker groupy.”
“Then they’ll want to learn,” Lan Xichen reminded. “When was the last time you found someone worth recruiting?”
“You think there will be someone here?” Jiang Wanyin snorted. “They’re all going to be adults! They’ll probably never form a core.”
“Life expectancies are longer now,” Lan Xichen reminded him. “All I’m asking is to keep an open mind. They might surprise you.”
“Doubtful,” Jiang Wanyin snorted.
“Of course no one can surprise the great Sandu Shengshou,” Lan Xichen teased as he stepped closer. “Great Immortal of China.”
“Doesn’t seem to stop you from trying,” Jiang Wanyin cocked his eyebrow. “Or was I not to notice my room was ‘accidently’ booked away from everyone elses?”
“I know better than to try to sneak that past you,” Lan Xichen hummed with a smile. “But Ouyang Zizhen?”
“You’d think after having his heart broken dozens of times he’d give up on that romantic crap,” Jiang Wanyin snorted.
“Don’t you find it interesting it’s us he’s trying on instead of Lan Jingyi and Jin Rulan?” Lan Xichen quirked his eyebrow up.
“That’s because-” Jiang Wanyin started only to break off. “What the hell are you doing with that?” He growled.
Lan Xichen’s head whipped to look at what had made Jiang Wanyin so mad. His eyes widening as he saw the distinctive wooden handle and sheath poking out from the collection of swords Jin Rulan had in his arms. Suddenly he was back on Biling Lake, chuckling to himself over his brother’s annoyance over a simple name.
“We said we were going to put swords out for people to handle!” Jin Rulan’s voice soared as he defended himself.
“Not with that one,” Jiang Wanyin growled as he stalked over, grabbing Suibian from Jin Rulan.
“ Jiujiu! It’s just an old sword!” Jin Rulan rolled his eyes. “I won’t even open!”
“What do you mea-”
“I see you found the ballroom alright!” Stella Stoker’s voice cut through everything. “You’ve got a bit of a crowd forming outside. Mind if I let them in?”
“Of course,” Lan Xichen smiled, glancing at the furrow in Jiang Wanyin’s brow. “We can answer some questions, or start the demonstration early.”
“We’ll have to hold off on the demonstration,” Stella Stoker smiled. “The other demonstrators aren’t here.” She offered an explanation as she moved back to the door. “Come on in,” She waved to the people on the other side.
Before Lan Xichen could have a chance to question her, he was shaking hands and making introductions. The names flew past; Summers, Winchester, Helsing, Constantine, too many to keep track of. He managed to slowly make his way back to Stella Stoker, but with each conversation Lan Xichen felt his confusion grow. Although the attendees were baffled by cultivation, they had knowledge of some of the tools. To his knowledge, no one outside of China practiced it. He supposed over time someone might have slipped out. Started practicing abroad, but why hadn’t they heard about them?
“Mrs. Stoker,” Lan Xichen started when he got close enough. He saw Jiang Wanyin finish up his own conversation, setting Suibian on the plastic table as he joined them.
“Please, Stella,” She smiled in return. “Mrs. Stoker makes me sound old.”
“You mentioned other demonstrators?” Lan Xichen prodded.
“Yes, their plan was running a little late. A case ran long in Prague-”
Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sound of rattling. Both JIang Wanyin and Lan Xichen turned, their gazes falling on Suibian as it rattled against the table. Just as Lan Xichen was about to question Jiang Wanyin, the blade went shooting out of the sheath. Their heads whipped to follow it’s trajectory, his head stuttering to a stop as they saw who was at the other end of it.
“Hello old friend,” Wei Wuxian murmured as his eyes followed the length of the blade. They flicked to Lan Xichen and Jiang Wanyin as it reached the end. “It’s been a while.”
But Lan Xichen could even register it, because next to Wei Wuxian.
Was Lan Wangji.
His brother had aged. It was the first thought that crossed Lan Xichen’s mind. When he’d left he was barely 23, now he looked at least thirty. He was dressed simply in black and blue, the clothes utilitarian in nature. HIs hair was still long, although currently tied up in a bun, a few pieces framing his face. Lan Xichen’s gaze fell to his brother’s forehead, finding it empty.
He still wore his own ribbon, centuries of tradition were hard to shake. It was ridiculous, after centuries his brother was in front of him and he was caught up on the fact he no longer wore his forehead ribbon. Perhaps it was because it felt like a slap in the face, the sign that his brother had truly broken with his own family. He felt anger well in his chest as he looked at the man next to his brother, the one responsible for it all.
Wei Wuxian.
He’d gotten old. In contrast to Lan Wangji, he looked to be well past thirty. The hair at his temples had gone grey, stark against the black of the rest of his long black hair. He was dressed in red and black, the colors he always favored. They were utilitarian like Lan Wangji’s, but a few aesthetic flares had been included here and there. Most notably the leather jacket.
“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Wanyin hissed.
“Jiang Wanyin.”
Lan Xichen saw Jiang Wanyin physically recoil.
“ Baba , do you know them?” Lan Xichen’s eyes moved to the man flanking Wei Wuxian’s other side.
“A-Yuan, meet Sect Leaders Lan and Jiang.” Wei Wuxian’s head tilted, his grey eyes remaining on the two of them.
“ A-die? ” The young man’s eyes went wide as he looked to Lan Wangji.
Lan Xichen’s heart stuttered to a stop. A-die? He looked over at the young boy with new eyes. He had a kind face, the faint trace of a smile on it. There was something familiar about his face, but Lan Xichen couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was a familial resemblance to Wei Wuxian?
“Mn,” Lan Wangji answered. Lan Xichen saw the young man straighten, his face growing guarded.
“About time you showed up, old man!” Stella Stoker’s voice cut through the tension in the room. Lan Xichen had to wonder if it was on purpose.
“Old man!” Wei Wuxian gasped, his entire demeanor shifting. The playful boy Lan Xichen remembered from his time at the Cloud Recesses taking over. “How would you feel if I started calling you kid all the time!”
“You do,” Stella Stoker rolled her eyes.”Or did you forget that too?”
“Listen young lady,” Wei Wuxian moved, as if he had completely forgotten he was holding a sword in his hand. Pointing the blade lackadaisically at her. “You try living for a few centuries and remember the name of everyone you meet. Especially monster hunters! Half of you die before you're thirty!”
“Wangji and Yuan have no problem with it!” Stella Stoker’s lips stretched into a grin. Giving the feeling it was more friendly banter than a real argument. “I think it’s just because you're older than they are.”
“I will have you know Lan Zhan is older than I am by months,” Wei Wuxian shot back.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. “His memory has always been poor.”
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian practically shrieked.
“Knew it!” A man in a flannel shirt called. “Pay up!” He held his hand out to the taller man next to him in a matching flannel.
“Well excuse me for having a few faults,” Wei Wuxian huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m the only person to cultivate a golden core, twice!”
“Now why would you have to cultivate a second one?” Jiang Wanyin snapped.
Lan Xichen watched Wei Wuxian freeze, as if he’d completely forgotten Jiang Wanyin and Lan Xichen were still here. A nervous grin filled his face as he looked over at them. HIs chest rose as he took a deep breath.
“Don’t even think about lying to me,” Jiang Wanyin cut off his next attempt to talk. Lan Xichen saw something flash across Wei Wuxian’s face as he paused.
“So you do know each other,” Stella Stoker hummed.
“A warning would have been nice,” Wei Wuxian hissed at her.
“You still made a dramatic entrance regardless,” She snorted back.
“ Baba always makes a dramatic entrance,” The boy, A-Yuan, spoke up. Wei Wuxian gasped, holding a hand to his chest in a mock injury as he staggered into Lan Wangji.
“Lan Zhan, our baby boy has grown so cruel,” He fake swooned. Lan Xichen’s eyes caught on his wrist as it flew up to press against his forehead, his heart stopping as he saw an embroidered white ribbon there. His eyes flew back to Lan Wangji, finding his brother’s gaze adoringly locked onto the man in his arms.
“Mn, very cruel,” Lan Wangji replied with an even tone.
“Stop deflecting, damn it!” Jiang Wanyin growled, lightning crackling around him as Zidian sparked. Lan Xichen watched his brother’s eyes raise, glaring at Jiang Wanyin.
More importantly the room around them shifted, guns and stakes emerging from under shirts and boots.
“Perhaps we should discuss this privately,” Lan Xichen quickly interjected.
“Does that mean the demonstration is canceled?” Someone called out.
“Perhaps we can reschedule,” Lan Xichen glanced at Stella Stoker. “We have much to discuss.” He added, his gaze flickering back to his brother.
“Usual conference rules apply,” Stella Stoker’s gaze shifted between the two of them. “No extensive property damage and no murdering each other. I’d like to actually get my deposit back this year.”
She turned, and the crowd slowly began to drift after her. A few lingered, as if hoping a fight might break out. Lan Xichen looked back to his brother, his eyes lingering on the face he thought he’d never see again.
He received merely a cool gaze in return. Lan Xichen felt his heart fall at the sight of it, as it could only mean two things. Either he’d lost his ability to read his brother’s emotions, or that his brother still harbored resentment towards him after all these years.
“Who wants a drink?” Wei Wuxian chuckled nervously. “I’ve got a feeling this will be a long conversation.”
“You think!?”